On The Flip Side Chapter 14 Sunny Afternoon, a lazytown fanfic

Chapter Fourteen - Sunny Afternoon

Bessie shrank back into her chair as the man she had known as Doctor Kaye stepped forward from behind the desk.

"You're going to find yourself unable to move from that chair for a while," he said casually. "At least, until I tell you you're free to leave. Oh, and you're also going to have to tell me the absolute truth as long as you remain in this room. Nothing more sinister than a little light hypnosis, old girl, but certainly sufficient to keep you here while I bask in the pleasure of a job well done."

She tried to move, but discovered that she was, indeed, unable to leave the chair.

"How…" she whispered.

"How did I do it?" Robbie smiled mirthlessly. "Why, Lizzie, my dear, you know how I did it. He could fool you into thinking he was anyone, I believe you said. The apparel oft acclaims the man, you know, and I've got very, very good at disguising myself over the years. Then, of course, you were desperate for someone to talk to. There really was no-one else in the world who would want to listen to the sad, pathetic tale of a dried-up, dried-out recovering alcoholic with nothing worthwhile to show for her time on this earth."

There were tears pouring down her cheeks, leaving furrows in her make-up.

"But I wanted to hear it," he said, leaning closer to her. "I've been waiting for years to hear your confession, Lizzie. For the chance to show you that it's you who's been the real villain of the piece all these years. Tell me, girlfriend; are you upset because I fooled you? Or because I told you the truth?"

"Was it really true?" she asked, bowing her head.

"Was what really true? Which part of my careful analysis of your shortcomings do you want to dispute?…No, I thought so. That's what really kills you, isn't it? That I know you so well. That after all these years of hiding your true self away, it's the man you've looked down on for more than twenty years who sees you are you really are. You've had the power over everyone for so long, you've forgotten what it's like to be powerless. But…" he leaned close enough over her for her to feel his breath on her cheek. "Now you know how it feels…don't you?"

She stared at him in terror.

"Oh, Good God, woman, don't flatter yourself," he said irritably. "I'm not interested in that kind of power. Even if you were my type - which I think we both know you're not - your particular brand of naïve charm faded away years ago. No, no, no, I'm going for a much more - exquisite revenge than the simple exercise of physical strength. I think you know I've always believed in the power of brain over brawn."

"You're a complete monster," she told him breathlessly.

"Oh, yes, you're right. That's exactly what I am. And so are you. Would it be too completely playground of me to point out that it takes one to know one? But today…I'm going to redeem myself. Just a little bit. You see, Lizzie…it's been so much fun, listening to you bare your soul, watching you squirm and wriggle and finally confess to your very deepest and ugliest secrets, and this afternoon I'm feeling generous. Maybe it's your lovely niece's influence shining a light into the darkness of my soul, I don't know, but I actually think I want to spread the joy a little." As he spoke, he opened a panel in the front of the desk and removed three tapes from the recording equipment hidden within.

"Three copies, Lizzie darling," he said meaningfully. "The edited highlights of our delightfully intime little chats. Oh, I've enjoyed putting these together. Mix tapes never were my thing, but this one I found…perfectly delightful. Want to guess who I'm going to send them too? Who have you upset and abused the most in our charming little town? Who would most enjoy the chance to have you under their thumb? Can you guess?…Dear me, you're even more stupid than I always suspected…" He took out a large black marker pen and began to address three envelopes.

"Number one," he said, licking the flap and sticking it down. "Sportacus. I imagine he's not your biggest fan right now, don't you? Not that he'll bear a grudge for the supercilious way you behave to him, of course. Not even for that whole never-darken-the-doors-of-this-town-again fiasco you put him through. But the way you treat his wife…and his daughter…well, I imagine even the Above Average Dimwit has his limits, and you might be about to find out that you've tipped him over the edge. Nonetheless, I will admit he's kind of my outside chance here. Something tells me he just doesn't have it in him to really take advantage of this enormous stick to beat you with that I'm about to hand to him." He reached for the second envelope.

"Number two," he said, writing busily. "Want to take a guess, Lizzie? No…? Well, then, I'll tell you. I'm sending the second copy to dear little Stephanie! Now there's someone who really deserves the opportunity to exact a bit of revenge…"

"Is that who this is all about?" asked Bessie, finding her voice at last. "You keep coming back to her…you kept mentioning her in your letters…"

"Oh, you think I'm in love with her? Well, I will confess that there's something about her that softens even the shrivelled blackness of my own poor excuse for a heart." He shrugged. "But there are all kinds of love in this world, Bessie, and I can assure you that I have no interest in squirming my way into her bed. Not since Sportacus has had his hands all over her, anyway. No, I like to think of myself as…her wicked uncle. Her wicked uncle who tries to get her into a corner at parties so he can interfere with her a little, but who still comes through in a crisis. I wonder if she'll have the good sense to make the most of the chance to torture you a little."

"She wouldn't do anything to hurt me," said Bessie stubbornly.

"No? Well, you're probably right, my dear, except that she doesn't actually have to do anything at all, does she? Nothing other than listen to you talk. Because once she hears all the nasty little details of your life, once she knows about the baby you aborted and the men you screwed for bit-parts and the sham of your marriage…well, I don't imagine that sanctimonious look you like to give her down your nose is going to cut much ice any more, is it? Think she'll be desperate for your approval once she knows who you are, hmm? Are you looking forward to knowing she pities and despises you?" He tossed the envelope onto his desk.

"And now number three…oh, Lizzie, this is the one I'm really looking forward to. Your husband! It's going to be a long, cold night in your house when he discovers how much you've been enjoying seeing him crawl all these years. He worships you, you know…and now he's about to find out who he's really been devoted to. Does he know you used to give it away in return for fifteen minutes of fame, by the way? I don't imagine those once-a-month visits to your, ahem, inner sanctum are going to seem quite so special to him once he's listened to your confession." He tossed the final envelope onto the pile.

"Lizzie, my dear old friend," he said gently, leaning elegantly against the desk, "you should see the look on your face. It's been such an unbelievable pleasure spending time with you like this. I think I can finally find it in my heart to forgive you at last. Because now you understand, don't you? You understand that you've spent your life crashing through everyone else's path like a wrecking ball, destroying everything you come across."

She looked up at him with pleading blue eyes.

"But I never meant to," she said at last. "I didn't know, Robbie, I didn't realise about you and him…I love Stephanie, I just wanted her to be happy…"

"And did you make her happy?" asked Robbie, almost tenderly. "That's the thing, you see, Bessie. I'm not interested in motives. I'm interested in outcomes. And the outcome of your existence to date has been nothing but misery. The world, Bessie dear, would be a much better place without you in it."

"Are you - are you going to kill me, Robbie?"

"Well, it did cross my mind," he admitted. "Alas, as I may have mentioned before, I can't. Most unfortunately for us both, I promised I wouldn't. But then again, how much fun could that possibly be? Just think of the work involved. Imagine the mess, Lizzie, all over my nice rented wooden floor…imagine the trouble of getting rid of the body. Much more fun to just…hand over the decision to everyone else. Because I can assure you, Lizzie, that these tapes will be in the hands of their rightful owners long before you get back to Lazytown, and once they've listened to them, nothing will ever be the same for you again. Your days of power are finished, Elizabeth Meanswell. If I were you, I'd go and have a drink to celebrate." He waved a hand. "You're free to go, my dear. Have a wonderful day, won't you?"Bessie suddenly found that she could stand. Slowly and unsteadily, she walked to the door.

"Just one more thing before you go, Lizzie…how does it feel to really know yourself? To have the freedom to put down the burden of being someone you're not? Do you feel terrible, Lizzie, do you hate yourself and wish you'd never been born? Or do you actually feel…free?"

She closed the door quietly behind her.

Robbie sat down in the large leather chair behind the desk he had chosen with infinite care from an antiques store in Metropolis.

"Frailty, thy name is woman," he said to himself, lying back in his chair and twirling thoughtfully around. "Oh, Robbie, Robbie, Robbie, you really are such a bad, bad little boy…but doesn't it feel good?" The ceiling had a beautiful moulded plaster rose around the light fitting, and he could see traces of gilt on its surface. There was only one other thing which had ever given him such a deeply exquisite sense of peace…

Spurred on by the memory, he picked up the phone and dialled a Metropolis number, fumbling in his pocket for his membership card.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I'd like to make a booking…yes, for tonight, please." He reeled off his membership number.

"Mr Rotten?" asked the voice at the other end of the phone. "I'm very glad you got in touch with us, sir; we've been trying to contact you for two days."

"Is there a problem?"

"Merely a…security precaution, Mr Rotten. I regret to say we've had a potential… breach of medical protocol."

He felt his heart thumping in his chest.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"One of the escorts who works here was caught moonlighting down in California. In the Industry, you know; not Hollywood, but close by, if you know what I mean? Unfortunately he was…working…bareback, and one of the actors he worked with has just turned up positive. We've had to fire him, of course, along with all of the boys who've spent time with him. They all swear they were never together, of course, but naturally we don't rely on that.""This is all very interesting, but I really don't see what it has to do with me," said Robbie, feigning a calmness he didn't feel.

"One of the boys we've had to let go was the young man you've been requesting for quite a while now…David. The one with the beautiful green eyes?""Oh, yes, I remember…well, that does put a different complexion on things." Keep calm, it might mean nothing. They're tested every month. So are you. Although of course it does take six months to show up sometimes…God damn it, all these years of being careful and paying through the nose for a clean no-strings fuck, and now this… "I sincerely hope you're not going to tell me he was the boy caught on camera."

"No, Mr Rotten. But, as they were close friends, and as boys will be boys…we felt it was a wise precaution."

"As you say," said Robbie casually.

"Mr Rotten…I'm sure you'll understand that we have to take the utmost precautions with the health of our clients, and therefore we are going to be unable to place any bookings for you for the next six months. Naturally we will refund your membership costs for this time, and we will be delighted to welcome you back as soon as the waiting period is over and you are able to present us with proof of your negative status. Mr Rotten? Do you understand what I've explained to you?"

"Perfectly, thank you," he said. "I'll look forward to receiving my refund." He put the phone gently back in its cradle and tapped on the table with his long fingers.What are the odds? Not huge; negligible really. He was clean every time. Saw his certificate. He might never have even been with that boy who went down to California, and as for him, the poor silly moonlighting fool…he might have been lucky too, you never know. Just because he was with someone who turned up positive, doesn't mean he is. But once it's in the system, you can't be sure who's safe and who isn't…I could be fine. Or I could be living with a death sentence. When was the last time I was with David…? Just over a week ago. One week gone already, twenty-five left before I know for a fact whether I'm a lucky bastard or a dead one…

He sat back down in his chair and tried to tell himself that it was going to be all right. When the courier came as arranged, riding an Indian motorbike and dressed from head to toe in black leather, he handed over the three envelopes with a smile and a large tip. But the sweetness had gone out of his long-planned victory over Bessie.

She got into her car and turned the key mechanically, not knowing where she was going to go. Her head was reeling with shock and shame. She didn't even want to think about those deadly tapes making their way to Lazytown, or about which of the many, many damning things she had said to Robbie he had chosen to broadcast to the world. And yet, and yet…the last words he had said to her ran hauntingly through her head Do you actually feel free? Do you, Lizzie, do you?

"I need a drink," she said out loud to herself. "I need a huge, icy-cold gin and tonic in a frosted glass with a slice of lime on the side. I really, really need one. There's no way I can get through this without it."

Yes…free. Free to put down this burden of pretending I'm anything other than a worn-down alcoholic who can't stay sober any longer. You've done this one thing for me, Robbie…I don't have to fight it any more.

She put the car in gear and drove fifteen or twenty blocks, until she spotted the discreet illuminated sign over the doorway. She paused on the doorstep, then took out her mobile phone and dialled.

"Gina?" she said. "It's Bessie."

"Bessie Meanswell, my Lord! It's good to speak to you. It's been weeks, girl. Figured you'd relapsed…or found another sponsor. You been okay?"

"I've been fine, Gina. I did what you recommended: I've been seeing a therapist."

"Yeah? Good for you. How's it been going?"

"It's been going well," she said calmly. "He helped me to understand who I really am…what's been the problem all these years. And now…I'm about to walk into a bar. I'm giving up being sober, Gina. I can't face living like this one minute longer." She closed the phone on Gina's appalled protests and walked in through the door.

The courier sped out of Smallville and down the road to Lazytown. Since the monorail had opened, there was very little traffic on the winding country road, and he enjoyed the sensation of freedom as he let the throttle of the bike open wide and heard the engine roar.

What a strange guy that Doctor Kaye is, he thought to himself. A thousand bucks to deliver three packages…

"Take one package to the Mayor of Lazytown," Doctor Kaye said. "You'll find him at the Town Hall. You can't miss it, it's in the main square." Well, that one would be easy enough.

"The second one is to go to a friend of mine…you'll recognise her if you see her, she's got bright pink hair and a disgusting little brat of a baby in tow. I've put her address on the front of the envelope. And the third one…" Doctor Kaye had given him an odd smile. "You're looking for a man dressed in a blue tracksuit and a ridiculous hat, charging about the town like a madman rescuing people. If you can't find him, just…fall off your bike or something, and he'll find you. Got it?"

Completely insane, thought the courier…but a damn good payer.

Ziggy looked at the under-fourteens football team in despair.

"Come on, you guys," he said imploringly. "Please concentrate. You have to work on your agility, otherwise you're never going to get any better."

"But we don't want to get better," said Peter, smiling sweetly up at Ziggy. "We just want to have fun. And all that circuit training isn't fun at all." The rest of the team murmured in agreement. "Can we take a break now, please? I brought doughnuts…"

"Oh, all right," said Ziggy, defeated. "Back in fifteen minutes, okay?"

Behind and above him, he heard the whir of the airship's engines and looked up eagerly as Sportacus climbed down the ladder.

"Is everything okay, Ziggy?" he asked, smiling. He had never lost his affection for Ziggy, whose lanky adolescent frame concealed the charming and clueless small boy he essentially remained.

"It's so great to see you! I'm supposed to be coaching the football team, but they won't do anything I ask them to…and now they're off eating doughnuts…"

"Hmmm. Well, Ziggy, that's not really the best snack when you're exercising, but it's not the end of the world…why don't I bring them some bananas instead of those doughnuts, and we'll see if we can work with them together? If that's all right by you, of course."

"If it's all right?" repeated Ziggy incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Yes, please! Wow, I don't know what I'd do without you…"

He smiled kindly.

"You're doing great, Ziggy. All it takes is a little more practice. Hey, kids, how are you doing?"

As they cheered joyfully and abandoned their box of doughnuts, he felt a faint tremble from his crystal, a shiver so slight that he could almost believe he had imagined it. Instinctively he looked around him, but he could see nothing wrong. He knew it was a warning, but until he was given more direction there was nothing he could do about it…a football flew through the air towards him, and without thinking about he put out his hand and caught it effortlessly. In the distance he could hear the town clock striking one.

"Nice throw!" he said, smiling. "Now watch how Ziggy does it…"

The courier pulled up outside the town hall, his motorbike shattering the peace of the square. Without removing his helmet, he went in through the door.

"Package for Mayor Meanswell?" he asked, peering through his visor.

"Oh my goodness," said the Mayor mildly. "That must be for me…thank you. Do I need to sign for it? No? Would you like a cup of tea, since you're here? Well, thank you for calling by our little town, do come again…" he peered at the envelope in puzzlement.

Inside was a cassette tape, and a note:

For the exclusive attention of Mayor Milford Meanswell. To be played AT HOME ONLY.

He looked around his office. It was just exactly one o'clock; time to stop for lunch. He could slip home with this tape, whatever it was, and listen to it over a sandwich in the kitchen with Bessie…but no, she'd said she had a lunch date with a friend in Smallville, and would be gone all day. Besides, there were piles of paperwork on his desk, as there always seemed to be since Bessie had stopped working for him to take over what she described as "running our home". He could leave the paperwork, of course, until tomorrow, or the next day, but…

Absent-mindedly he tucked the tape into his inside pocket and turned, sighing, to a stack of invoices that needed paying.

"Can I get another one of these, please?" asked Bessie, waving her glass in the direction of the bar-tender. She was pleased to discover that, despite the fact that this would be her seventh refill, her words were slurred only a little.

"No problem," said the barman disinterestedly, taking her glass and fetching a fresh one.

The first one had been exquisite, everything she had dreamed about and longed for all the long days and nights of her sobriety. She had actually moaned with pleasure as the first inch of gin trickled smoothly down the back of her throat, and had held the glass against her forehead to feel the condensation cooling the burning in her skin. The second one had cleared her head, making her feel as if she was coming back to life and light again after a long, suffocating time smothering in the dark. The third was simply for greed, because she had forgotten how good it felt to feel the warmth and the weakness spreading out from her stomach to the very tips of her fingers, blurring the edges of thought. After that, she had been unable to stop; she knew she would keep going until someone told her no or until she simply slid off the bar-stool.

"Have to make this the last one, though," said the barman, looking at her warningly. "The cops don't like it if the customers pass out on the sidewalk." Especially not at one o'clock in the afternoon, he thought to himself, but didn't say it.

Bessie shrugged affably. She knew she could find another bar, where the staff were a little less concerned for their reputation. All the old tricks she had learned so well over so many years were coming back to her now…putting her hand into her bag for some money, she found her fingers closing over the small aspirin bottle where she had concealed Robbie's Demerol.

I wonder what would happen? she thought. Maybe later…

The courier rode up to the neat, pretty little house and knocked on the door. A very beautiful girl of about twenty, with bright pink hair that fell almost to her waist, opened the door. Clinging to her hip was a baby.

"Hello," she said curiously.

"Package for you," he said, holding out the envelope. She took it with a smile.

"Thank you…who is it from?"

"Dr Kaye, over in Smallville."

"Dr Kaye?" she looked blank. "But I don't know anyone called Dr Kaye…are you sure you meant to deliver it to me?"

He smiled behind his visor.

"Is there anyone else in town with hair like yours?"

She blushed a little and lowered her head so that her extraordinary mane of hair fell over her face.

"Thank you, anyway," she said. "Wave goodbye, Emma."

Once again, he felt that faint tug around his heart, the smallest warning that all was not well in the town. Twice in half an hour, he thought. What is happening? What am I missing? Where is it that I should be?

"Okay, lady," said the barman gently. "I think it's time for me to see you out." He guided her off the bar-stool and out of the door, amazed that she was still able to stand. "Jesus, I hope you're not actually planning to drive, are you?"

"No, no, no," she said grandly, waving a hand. "I'll just pop around the corner to see a friend I haven't seen for a while…and then I shall be taking the monorail back home. Don't you worry about me, young man." Walking carefully to maintain her balance on her precarious heels, she made her way around the corner.

I wasn't worrying about you, he thought, sighing. He had a heavily pregnant wife at home, and the knowledge that he was about to be responsible for a small and infinitely precious life made him painfully aware of the endless dangers lurking around every corner.

Bessie waited for five minutes, leaning against the wall and enjoying the sensation of floating in a gentle cocoon of warmth and comfort. The encounter with Robbie seemed long ago and far away…

…the tapes, she thought, suddenly remembering. Those goddamn tapes. Bad enough that he knows, but he said he'd send them to…oh, no. Got to get home. Got to try and find them…explain… fuzzily, she staggered back around the corner and climbed into her car.

And again there was the tremor from the crystal, the sensation deep inside his chest…but this time he couldn't concentrate on it because there was a man dressed from head to toe in black leather, wearing a motorcycle helmet and walking across the field.

"I think this must be for you, mate," he said, and even though he didn't take off his helmet Sportacus could hear the smile in his voice. He took the envelope in perplexity, noticing that it was addressed to Sporta-freak.

"Thank you," he said. "What is it?"

"No idea," said the courier. "I just bring the packages. Be seeing you." He walked back across the playing-field to his motorbike, looking menacing and out of place in the bright, innocent sunshine of Lazytown.

"So…David…are you from this Lazytown place you're headed to?" asked the lorry driver, smiling.

"No. I'm just…looking for someone."

"And is he expecting you, or is there any chance of you being a little…delayed?" The man's hand left the steering-wheel and rested gently on David's leg.

"I think I'll get out here, thank you," said David firmly.

"Now, come on, play fair. I've brought you almost all the way into town, the least you can do is give me a little something in return."

"I've just been kicked out of a gay brothel for being a potential HIV risk," said David, smiling. "I won't know for another six months if I've got away with it. You really want to take a chance on my status?"

The lorry driver flinched and put the brakes on.

"Out," he said shortly. David jumped lightly down from the cab. He would walk the rest of the way.

She could feel the car weaving wildly as she set off down the road. Fortunately it was a slow, sleepy, summer afternoon and there was hardly any traffic. She had driven when she was drunker than this many times; she would manage. If anything, she thought, the alcohol sharpened her driving skills, made her more alert to the dangers around her…she just needed to keep the damn steering wheel from drifting away from her and taking her over the white line…grimly she pulled it straight again and continued down the road.

Thank God that job's over, thought the courier to himself. What a completely weird place. Can't imagine what it's like to live there…bet they don't get too many bikers, that's for goddamn sure. The bike was purring under him, and he opened it out to full throttle and let the joy of the open road take over.

"That went really well, Sportacus…you're amazing," said Ziggy cheerfully as they tidied away the equipment. "I don't suppose you do dating advice as well, do you? I'm taking Marie out tonight. It's the first time in ages she's taken any notice of me, I don't want to mess it up…"

Sportacus laughed.

"I think that is one area you're going to have to figure out for yourself," he said firmly.

"But you and Stephanie are so happy…you must have some good tips…"

"No, Ziggy, I can assure you that I don't. Just be yourself and I'm sure it will all be fine."

"But honestly, how do you get a girl to - "

"Ziggy," said Sportacus warningly.

"I'm not asking you about you and Stephanie…"

"Good, because I am absolutely not discussing - "

"I just want to know what girls like…wow. Is everything all right?"

The crystal on his chest was bleeping frantically, the light shining a brilliant, burning white. He found himself clutching his chest with the pain of its urgent summons.

"I've never seen it go off quite like that before," said Ziggy, quite shocked. "Is someone in trouble, then?"

"Very serious trouble," said Sportacus, grim-faced, and ran to the airship.

She was on the home straight now; she could see the houses of Lazytown in the distance. She sang a little to herself as she drove, enjoying the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair.

Then out of nowhere a huge, threatening black shape was tearing towards her, and the roar of the engine was almost drowned out by the roaring in her ears. She swerved wildly to avoid it, and was briefly aware of the rider sticking his middle finger threateningly up at her as he roared past, missing her by inches. She barely had time to feel angry with him before the second horror was upon her -

- there on the road in front of her, a young man no older than Stephanie, his face white and terrified as he saw death coming towards him -

- she slammed on the brakes and swerved, but the car was fighting her every inch of the way, and she knew there was no way she could avoid hitting him -

- and then she felt the impact all the way through the body of the car and up through her own flesh and bones, and she was blinded by the sudden explosion of the airbag, and as the car finally came to a halt she was sobbing in the terrible knowledge that she had hit him, and he must be lying somewhere on the road -

- this is what Robbie meant when he said I was a monster - he's right, the world would be a better place without me -

- she climbed out of the car, grabbed her handbag, and without looking behind her, ran away from the road. After a minute or so the horror and the alcohol caught up with her, and she stumbled, and fell on her face into the soft, green grass beneath her feet.