A/N: I apologise most profusely for the lateness of this update. I could blame a lot of things but I won't. Instead I shall say "Whoops" and hope you shall all forgive me. Thank you, THANK YOU, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story, the support has been overwhelming and I am more than sorry that I have been unable to get back to you all. I will try and find a way to at some point though, Brownie's Honour. If you're still bearing with me, here's Chapter 14. :) -Sky.

Chapter 14 – Bodies

Timmy's house was empty when he finally arrived home. He didn't mind, but the gaping hole that was left where Cosmo and Wanda used to be was all too evident for his liking. He had seen Vicky safely back home, much to Tootie's delight, but Timmy had been left feeling somewhat unsatisfied with the way that things had turned out. After that last question, Vicky had gone very quiet and refused to commit herself to anything more than shaking or nodding her head. Timmy had tried to cover up the silence between them by talking a mile a minute, but it was clear to him by the way that Vicky wouldn't look into his eyes that she wasn't really listening, and he had given up, allowing them both to lapse into a rather uncomfortable silence. Vicky had seemed on the verge of saying something to him the whole time they were walking, but in the end she had flaked out of it and shuffled into her house with her tail between her legs.

Timmy had watched her until she had shut the front door, the whole time wanting to call out to her and make her come back, to finish their conversation like grown-ups, but he had stopped himself, mostly out of embarrassment. He really didn't know what to say apart form her name and besides, Chester was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to leave the front lawn of their former babysitter and return to the trailer park to pick up what remained of there poor blonde boy's belongings. Timmy had ducked out of this, which added to the weight on his chest, but he was so tired he could barely stand and Chester, ever the best friend, had ordered him to go home before his eyes turned to dust.

Timmy lay on his bed with his arms stretched out so they touched the edges and stared at the ceiling. He had been asking himself the same question over and over on the way home, as a tiny nagging voice in the back of his head that refused to back down. Why had she seemed so worked up about a question that wasn't really that big of a deal? After all, wasn't it obvious to the girl that Timmy didn't hate her? Couldn't she see how at ease he was when she was around, and how much more he seemed to smile? Didn't she know that the last thing on Timmy's mind was running whenever she came by, and that yes, he really did want to be her friend? Didn't she notice the way Timmy had started looking at her? Couldn't she understand that Timmy wanted her?

Timmy screwed up his eyes and tried to block the thought from his mind. If the thought made him uncomfortable it was nothing to the fact that he wasn't really surprised it was there. He imagined that if he told Chester of the way he felt, the boy would react with a mixture of shock and disgust, but when Timmy had finally realised the truth it hadn't overwhelmed him. It was as though it had always been there in his head, quiet and hidden and waiting for the day when it would gently introduce itself to Timmy's conscience. It felt inexplicably right.

He relaxed his eyes but allowed them to remain shut. Gently, like sinking into a warm bath, Timmy fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that promised to keep him safe from the world, at least for the next few hours.

-

Cosmo couldn't tell if it was night or day inside his tiny cell. The whole complex was lit by soul sapping artificial light, and just because the guards turned them off it didn't mean it was night time. Cosmo had heard stories of prison wardens trying to mess up the convict's body clocks to drive them insane, but at the time he had been certain it was only humans who had it in them to do that to each other. Until he and his wife had been sealed inside this living nightmare, he hadn't known that there were fairies in any world that could be so cruel. He felt tired and anxious, and though he desperately wanted to sleep he was haunted by the echoes of prisoners passed, the ones who had been locked up and shut down and told to be quiet like good boys and girls, and he briefly wondered if they, too, had really done anything wrong.

About ten minutes ago, or it could have been half a day, Cosmo had felt his unwished magic melt away. He was still yet to suffer any consequences, and he wondered how much longer he had left. A tiny glimmer of hope in his mind made him think that perhaps maybe he had gotten away with it. The evidence was gone now and what was done was done, and as far as he knew no one had been hurt. If he kept this little secret to himself then perhaps no one need ever know at all.

He rested his head against the metal bars again, letting their biting cold flash through his exhausted frame and shock some life back into him. He sighed and closed his eyes.

He wanted Wanda.

-

Vicky had sat and stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, and she had come to the conclusion that she didn't like what she saw. She didn't like the fragile, vulnerable girl staring back at her, the weakness radiating off of her in waves. She didn't like the dark circles under her eyes and the way that her hair hung in threads, betraying to the world the brutal truth that she was falling apart. She didn't like the twitching, nervous way that her eyes darted about her face, as though expecting to find something to knock her back and she absolutely hated the way that when she smiled, she felt like she was lying. With a final sigh she tugged the door of the medicine cabinet open, throwing the mirror to an angle where all it reflected was the baron whiteness of the bathroom door.

She knew she should be feeling happier, she thought as she filled the sink with warm water. She knew that she should be smiling the brave smile of a survivor, of one who had come through great hardships, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She was glad, more than she could put into words, that Timmy had forgiven her, but it made her feel bad to think it had all been so easy. She felt as though she had barely suffered at all when in her soul she believed she should be in Hell for the way she used to be. She took her soap down from the cabinet and began to wash her face. He hadn't even shouted once.

There was a party at Vicky's house tonight, and she didn't even know why. It was probably just some lame thing her parents were throwing to reassure themselves that they still had friends. Vicky snorted, thinking they probably knew more people that she realised as they spent hardly any time at the house anymore. In their minds Tootie was smart enough too look after herself and Vicky just wouldn't let them take care of her. She knew she was a burden on their hospitality now, and that they were just counting down the days until she would just pack her bags and go, and it tore at her like ravaging claws. But she had made sure that bridge stayed firmly burnt a long time ago and part of her had given up hope of ever being able to cross it again.

Downstairs she could hear the clumsy sounds of her father dropping things and trying to pin up decorations on his rickety old step ladder while her mother shouted at him to be careful. For a fleeting moment, she considered going to help, but there was no willingness to in either her mind or her body. She was exhausted. She washed the last of the soap from her face and pulled the plug from the basin. For a few moments she stood, transfixed by the water as it swirled down the plughole, her mind blissfully empty for a little while, but as the last drop disappeared into the black abyss she returned to her senses and went to her room.

On her pillow, looking as though it had been purposely placed there, lay her stuffed bear. She couldn't remember buying it or having it bought for her; it was just one of those things she had always had and never had the heart to throw out, even in her darker days. For some reason she was attached to it in a way even she thought was childish, but she adored it. It was raggedy and frayed, and it had never been blessed with a name, but she loved it nonetheless. What she loved the most about it, however, was its eyes. They were shiny and black, and they were outlined in a dark, blood red colour that didn't seem to sit to well with the rest of the design. The eyes were cold and empty and hard, and Vicky had always found herself drawn to them. They reminded her that just because you could love something it didn't make you good. Love is a warm thing to have within you, but it isn't a warmth you have made, and that was just how Vicky felt. Even now, as she had grown softer and nicer she knew that deep down she was a cynical, mean girl who had simply fallen in love. Perhaps she always would be, but then it would just be another thing to hide.

She picked the bear up and held it to her chest. Often she had spoken to it as though it were Timmy, just so she could say at night all the things that welled up in her during the day, but she wasn't fool enough to think it mattered. After all, it was just cloth and stuffing and two small, beady eyes, and it could never soothe her troubles. She placed it on her bedside table and slipped beneath her duvet, wishing she were being held.

-

When Timmy was awoken by someone hammering fiercely on his front door, it was pitch black outside. He struggled to his feet, straightening his hat as he did so and waited for eyes to adjust to the dark. The incessant knocking continued as he tried to feel his way downstairs, and by this point Timmy was becoming increasingly irritated.

"All right, all right, I'm coming!" he yelled as he carefully made his way to the front door. He fumbled with the latch for a few moments before twisting the handle. The door swung open in a rush, and into the room toppled his parents who were clearly roaring drunk and had been leaning on the door for supported. Timmy's mother giggled as she and her husband fell to the floor with their arms tightly clamped around one another, while his father made shushing noises that were themselves quite loud. Timmy rolled his eyes at the ceiling and waited until they had picked themselves up before shutting the door to avoid slamming it on their feet.

"Been anywhere nice?" he said dryly, even though he knew they weren't listening. He shrugged and turned back to the stairs, but his mother called him back.

"Oh, Timmy, we had the best time at Vicky's house," she squealed, giggling as Timmy's father buried his face in her neck. "Her parents throw the best parties! I wonder why you weren't invited?" This sentence seemed to make her laugh even harder and she and her husband dissolved into a fit of giggles before stumbling over to the sofa to collapse. Timmy sighed and was about to head back upstairs when he realised that his parents were getting quite involved in one another and if he stayed in the house he was liable to be privy to a show he didn't much want to hear. Stubbornly, he turned on his heels and headed out of the front door, not caring what the time was. His parents, as usual, raised no objections.

He knew where he was going before his feet had even thought of subconsciously steering him there. The fact that there was a loud, raucous, alcohol fuelled party going on at Vicky's was bound to make the poor girl feel worse than usual, and though he hated to admit it Timmy had spent the whole time he was away from her mentally waiting for a time when he would get to see her again.

When he arrived at Vicky's house it was evident that the party was in full swing. The front door was wide open, spilling out lights, loud music and drunken revellers. Timmy was uncertain but he thought he recognised Mr. Crocker, passed out on the front lawn as he negotiated his way up the garden path. He had to press by two adults he didn't recognise who were standing close together and crowding the doorframe, and he tried not to look at the stairs that were littered with tired looking people with drinks clutched loosely between their fingers.

He squeezed himself into the front room and immediately began scanning the faces for Vicky. He hoped against hope that she hadn't gotten herself a drink at any point, because she really didn't need that. He doubted she would be able to stop herself when it was so readily available and free. She wasn't in the lounge, and she didn't turn up in the kitchen when he searched that either.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that she would probably be shut up in her room, trying to keep everyone out with her head under a pillow to block out the noise. He had a strong feeling that Tootie would be at Chester's trailer tonight, as his father was still locked up and he would be glad of the company. Timmy smirked as he climbed over the bodies on the stairs, and decided it really was none of his business what Chester did with Tootie, as long as he treated her right.

When he reached the landing Timmy was surprised to find that he remembered straight away which room was Vicky's. He knocked gently on the door, but he could barely hear the sound himself over the sounds of the stereo downstairs. He knocked again, a little louder this time, and decided it would be better to identify himself or Vicky would never let him in.

"Vicky? Vicky, are you in there? It's me, Timmy." The door opened the tinniest of cracks and Timmy could just make out a small, frightened eye, peering out at him from behind a curtain of lank red hair. When she was satisfied that Timmy really was who he claimed to be, she opened her door just wide enough for him to slip through and shut it the second he was out of the hallway.

Inside her room it was too dark to see by, and Timmy didn't bother asking why. Despite the fact that the door was firmly shut, the loud thud of the music was almost deafening. "Are you all right?" Timmy asked.

"What?" Vicky shouted back, leaning in closer in the hope of picking up the last strains of Timmy's question.

"I said, are you all right?" Timmy asked again, a lot louder this time. In the dark he could barely make out the shadows of Vicky shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders to show that she couldn't hear what he was saying. Timmy rolled his eyes and sighed angrily, before reaching out and grabbing Vicky's hand tightly in his own. He thought he felt her fingers curl underneath his as he wrenched the door open, but as light flooded the room and he could finally see her face, Timmy couldn't read anything in Vicky's expression at all.

He pulled her into the hallway, throwing her a warning look with his eyes to be careful not to trip over anybody. Gently, he led her down the stairs and through the front door, squeezing by the drunken couple once again to escape into the peace and quiet of the cool night air.

They walked for just a few minutes, with Timmy leading the red head by the hand a few paces in front of her. Timmy wasn't exactly certain why he hadn't stopped yet, and it was only when Vicky finally spoke that he halted his stride.

"I'm cold," she said meekly. Timmy turned to look at her, and then promptly dropped her hand from his in shock. As it had been so dark in her room, Timmy hadn't noticed that Vicky was dressed only in the short nightgown that she had borrowed from Tootie. She was visibly shaking from the chill and it was clear to Timmy that she was only biting on her bottom lip so hard to stop her teeth from chattering. He reached up to remove his coat, and it was only then that he remembered not taking it back from Vicky earlier that day. Vicky bundled her arms around herself, clearly nervous and embarrassed about being so exposed in the middle of the street.

"Come on," Timmy said, suddenly also feeling quite warm and flushed and trying very hard to look anywhere but at Vicky, "we can go to my house."

Vicky nodded gratefully and the pair began to walk, with Vicky trying to hide in the shadows that were being cast by the streetlights. As Timmy's house cropped up on the horizon, it occurred to him that his parents were probably still inside, doing whatever it is that parents do when their children aren't home. He stopped dead in his tracks and Vicky, who had clearly been relieved to see a warm sight at last, stopped dead and shivered pointedly.

"Sorry," Timmy said, smiling nervously and directing his eyes at the ground. "My parents came home from yours really drunk and now, well, God knows what they're up to." Vicky nodded stiffly, and turned around to head back to her house. Timmy put his hand on the freezing cold skin of her arm to stop her.

"Wait," he said softly. "I know it's not exactly a palace, but if you want we can wait in my tree house until the party at yours has sort of died down. I'll brave running into my house at some point to fetch you some clothes, too." Vicky sniffed by way of reply, and the pair headed up to Timmy's house before ducking around the side of it into his back yard.

Timmy hadn't been inside his tree house in years, but it had held up well. Timmy knew that the only real reason for this was because it had become ingrained with so much magic over the years that it was probably now more solid than most houses. The pair stood at the base of the tree, and Timmy pointed at the ladder, just to indicate that it was 'lady's first'.

Vicky shook her head. "You go first," she said stubbornly. Timmy sighed and hunched his shoulders.

"It's perfectly safe," he reassured her.

"I don't care," Vicky said. "You go up first."

"Why?" Timmy demanded. Vicky pointed to the hem of her nightdress by way of reply, and Timmy made the mistake of following the path of her finger with his eyes. He felt himself going very red, before clearing his throat nervously and tearing his eyes away from Vicky's pale legs.

"Oh yeah," he said lamely, and began climbing the tree quicker than was really necessary.

Once they were inside the tree house, Timmy soon found the old battery powered lantern that, much to his delight, still worked. It didn't cast much light, by any means, but it was enough for Timmy to see by and the perfect amount for Vicky to hide from. She stepped back into a corner of the wooden house, and immediately put her foot on something soft, which made her jump with shock.

"What is it?" Timmy asked anxiously. Vicky bent down to pick up whatever it was she had trodden on. It was a couple of sleeping bags wrapped in plastic, emblazoned with images of The Crimson Chin and Maho Mushi. Timmy grinned stupidly at them, before taking them from Vicky and examining them fondly.

"I can't believe they're still up here," he said, tearing the plastic from the outside and unfurling them. A stale sort of smell rose up to greet them, but other than that both sleeping bags looked perfectly fine. Timmy unzipped The Crimson Chin one fully and threw it around Vicky's shoulders, as it was only child size and at her height she would never fit inside it. She closed her eyes and drew it tightly around her while Timmy unzipped the other sleeping bag, before promptly throwing that around her shoulders as well.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked Timmy in a small voice.

"A little," he replied honestly as he stood before her in his thin t-shirt, "but you're colder."

"Thanks," she said, giving a little sniff.

-

In his office, Jupitus Starr was watching the Magic Metres. He liked to watch them as the ticked gently, the small needles edging ever closer to coming full circle, the tiny counters beside them totting up another number every now and then. He liked to watch them, because they were in order, and Jupitus Starr liked it when things were in order. He leaned back in his chair a picked up his mug of coffee, with his small blue eyes still fixed on the dials.

Suddenly, small fairy dressed in a white shirt and purple tie appeared on his left with a gentle poof. Jupitus Starr didn't flinch, and neither did his eyes stray from the metres as they continued to tick out their gentle rhythm.

"Got the numbers here for last week, Mr. Starr," the fairy cheerfully. Jupitus's expression didn't change as he reached out and took the scarp of paper from his assistant's hands. "Everything's normal," the fairy continued, clearly used to the way he was blanked whenever he went into his superior's office. "We had a slight fluctuation a few days ago, but it seems to have evened itself out now," the fairy said lightly.

Suddenly, Jupitus's head snapped up. "We had what?" he growled in a deep, menacing voice.

"Uh, a fluctuation," the fairy stuttered nervously, having been caught off his guard. "It was only a tiny one, somewhere on Earth, but it's all smoothed out now, I swear."

"Do we know where it came from?" asked Jupitus, now staring his assistant down. "I mean, do those knuckleheads in Tracking and Location have anything a bit less vague than 'somewhere on Earth'?"

The fairy assistant gulped. He wasn't used to getting shouted at like this. "Um, we think it was a small town in the U.S." he said in a trembling voice.

"Which one?" demanded Jupitus. "Which small town?"

"We, er, we don't know," the assistant admitted, and then closed his eyes to brace himself for whatever was coming next.

As it happened, it was no worse than having last week's numbers thrust back into his hands, and he carefully cracked open one eye to see if the coast was clear or if it was really just a trick.

"Now listening to me..." Jupitus trailed off, clearly trying to remember his assistant's name.

"Skitch," the worried fairy replied.

"Skitch. I want you to take this bit of paper down to the boys in T and L, I want you to find who's in charge, and I want you to STAPLE IT TO HIS FOREHEAD! I do not like fluctuations! I do not like vague information! Now, I want this fairy's identity, I want it on my desk, and I want it in the next few hours! Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Starr, sir," Skitch said quickly, before disappearing in a very relieved poof of amber smoke.

Jupitus cleared his throat and brought his mug of coffee to his lips, before settling his eyes on his precious dials once again.

-

Neither of them had said anything for about half an hour. Vicky had huddled herself and her sleeping bags in the corner of the tree house, and had rested her head against the wooden wall. Timmy was sitting on an upturned box he had found with his chin in his hands, staring at the dull lantern light that was growing weaker by the second as the batteries drained. The wind was picking up outside but thankfully there were no gaps in the tree house for it whip through. Timmy stood up and turned to Vicky.

"I'm going to go inside, just to see if the coast is clear," he said to Vicky, although he was uncertain if she was asleep or not.

"Ok," she replied faintly, trying to hide from her voice the fear that once he had escaped from her company Timmy wouldn't return.

"You hungry?" he asked as he put his foot on the top rung of the ladder. Vicky smiled to herself in the dark. He wasn't talking like someone who planned to run away from her, and she knew exactly what that sounded like.

"A little," she replied. She watched Timmy until she could see him no more, and then she strained her ears until she heard the sound of his back door being softly closed. She assumed that his parents must be asleep now, and Timmy was going to do everything in his power not to wake them up. Vicky sighed and felt a pang of guilt for Timmy. It was her fault her parents didn't really care about her, she had made it that way, but Timmy didn't deserve the neglectful way his parents treated him, even if he was old enough to look after himself.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling her fringe down to cover her eyes. She had been cutting her own hair since she was twelve, and yet the uneven lines told hair she still wasn't any good at it. She sighed and roughly pulled the band that held it in it's usual ponytail from her hair, flinging it across the floor of the tree house and into the shadows where she could no longer see it. She shook her head, letting her hair fall where it wanted on her shoulders, and was immediately irritated by the way it made them itch. She sighed, and listened to her stomach growl.

About ten minutes later Timmy returned, with not only food but also a new lantern and fresh batteries for the old one. He was also carrying a backpack, which he threw on the floor beside Vicky and began setting up the lanterns. Vicky picked up the backpack and unzipped it.

"Sorry there's nothing girly," he said. "My mom won't let me wear dresses anymore."

Vicky laughed and pulled out an old t-shirt shirt of Timmy's and a pair of faded blue jeans that were full of holes. She got to her feet and was halfway through throwing off her thin nightgown when she remembered that Timmy was just three feet away.

"Close your eyes," she warned. Timmy's first instinct was to turn around, and when he did the first thing he met was Vicky, now bathed in the brighter lantern light, with the hem of her nightgown bunched up in her hands just below her hips.

"Oh, man, sorry!" he said, quickly turning his head and screwing up his eyes, trying to ignore the image that seemed to be permanently burnt on the inside of his eyelids. Vicky narrowed her eyes at the back of her head and quickly removed her nightgown, pulling on her jeans fast before Timmy had the nerve to turn around. They were quite long, even on Vicky, and extremely baggy. She had to rely on her hips to hold them up. The t-shirt was also quite baggy, and dark blue in colour with a smiling face printed in the centre. She pulled her hair out of the neck of it and tossed the nightgown into the now empty backpack.

"Ok, you can look now," she said heavily, wishing that it wasn't so bright and that she didn't look so bad. Timmy turned his head and looked at the girl before him. His face broke into a smile.

"Cute," he said, before he could stop himself. Vicky looked awkward, and, after a moments pause in which she refused to look at Timmy, quickly ducked under her sleeping bag once more.

"I, er, I bought chips," he said. "It's all we have in the house." He threw the large bag at Vicky, who caught it one handed and opened them.

"Thanks," she said, and Timmy wasn't sure if she was thanking him for the food, the shelter, the clothes or the company that night.

-

The bag of chips didn't last long between the pair of them, but both of them felt so tired that it didn't really matter. Timmy went and sat in the opposite corner to Vicky and closed his eyes, with his arms folded in front of him. He was so tired he was almost on the verge of nodding off when something soft hit him gently in the face. He jerked awake in shock and looked down as the Maho Mushi sleeping bag slid down his frame. He looked up at Vicky.

"You'll freeze," she said simply, before turning down the lantern and snuggling up in her own bag. Timmy tucked the sleeping bag around himself and shut his eyes once more and drifted off to sleep.

-

Jupitus Starr smiled. On his desk there was a small yellow note that he read and re-read as though it were a very entertaining story, but it contained just three numbers and one word.

One. Six. Nine. (Cosmo).