With the exception of sports stadiums and concert venues, the hospital was the loudest place Stephanie had ever been to. There were the never-ending beeps and chimes of the various machines monitoring her. There was the constant flow of people walking back and forth: steps, steps, steps. There were the multiple conversations in the hallway: orderlies gossiping, nurses venting to one another, doctors trying to assuage the fears of families, families complaining amongst themselves. None of these people seemed to understand how loud they were—in spite all everyone constantly telling her to "get some rest."
The worst of it all, however, where the sounds of the patients in the rooms near her. Lazytown was a small hospital (comparatively), so there were no separate floors for things like post-op, gerontology, ob-gyn, and others. She lay there, listening to a young girl, a few years younger than her, weeping from both the pain of giving birth and her family abandoning her. She heard an old man, probably suffering from dementia, constantly crying out for someone to free him. There was a woman coughing raggedly for hours.
They were all trapped there, together. Stephanie tried to keep that in mind as she found her patience wearing thin.
Stephanie was guarded every moment during her stay; Sheriff Knobbs made sure that she knew who was guarding her every moment and he kept it consistent. Officer Obtuse was with her from 6 am to noon, then it was Officer Gleason from noon to 6 pm, then Officer Welles from 6 pm to midnight, and finally Officer Simonds from midnight to 6 am. They were there to protect her, she tried to remember; they weren't there to keep her company. She had to cope with her loneliness on her own.
Her fairly regular visits from various people helped with this, somewhat. Seeing Uncle Milford after she'd been rescued did a world of good in helping to maintain her morale. She didn't even mind having Officer Obtuse or Sheriff Knobbs coming to talk to her. Having to tell her story over and over again got a tiresome, though. She tried to keep in mind that they authorities weren't making her do this to torment her, but rather to gather as many clues as they could, to constantly look at every angle, to coax out the smallest of details that she might have overlooked that would, hopefully, lead to justice.
It was wonderful when her friends came to visit. Trixie came bounding in first. She grabbed one of her hands, squeezed it, and said, "Damn, Pinky! You look awful!"
"Trixie! Really?" Stingy snapped at her. Then he leaned over and kissed Stephanie's cheek. "Hi, hon."
"Ha! That's okay. I needed the laugh," Stephanie said. "Thanks for coming to see me, guys."
"Of course, Steph. We're so glad you're okay," Pixel said.
"You are okay…right, Babe?" Trixie asked.
"Oh yeah," Stephanie said with a wave of her hand. "Just another couple of days and I'll be going home. I'll have to stay off my feet for a while because of my ankle, but I'm golden." Stephanie smiled, then looked over at the door, where Ziggy was hanging back. His face was set into a deep frown. "Ziggy? Aren't you going to come over and say hi?"
The blonde boy looked down at the floor. "I don't want to get in the way."
"Ziggy, don't be stupid." Trixie grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into the room. Ziggy scowled and rolled his eyes, but he finally consented to stand at the foot of Stephanie's bed.
"Oh, before I forget!" Trixie reached into the large bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out Stephanie's pink robe. "Bessie wanted me to bring this to you."
"Yesss! This is awesome! These hospital gowns are the pits." Stephanie struggled a bit to get the robe around herself.
Stingy frowned slightly. "Sorry about all this, Steph. You came here to rest and relax, and…well…" he trailed off.
"It could have been worse, I guess. I'm just so happy that you're all here! Uncle Milford told me about what you all did to help." Stephanie sighed. "Thank you, guys. I'm so lucky to have you."
"I can't. I'm sorry. I can't do this." Ziggy started to walk away.
"Ziggy! Wha—where are you going?" Stephanie called.
He stopped and turned to look at her, his eyes beginning to water. "This is all my fault! You're here because of me!"
"Oh, God Ziggy—quit being an idiot," Trixie told him.
"I'm not, damn it! Steph, if I hadn't been so jealous, if I'd just walked you home, this would never have happened." Ziggy gestured at the others. "None of them will admit it, but it's true! I let you walk home alone and look what happened!"
"Ziggy, come here. Come on." Reluctantly the boy walked over and knelt next to the bed. Stephanie took his face in her hands. "I don't want you to spend another moment blaming yourself for this. The fact is, someone had it out for me. If they couldn't take me when they did, they'd find another time to do it. Someone was determined to get me."
"But…"
"No buts. I'm glad you weren't with me, Zig. Who knows what could have happened to you if had been? You could have been seriously hurt—or worse. And I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. So please—stop it. Okay?"
Ziggy sniffled and smiled. "Okay. I love you, Steph."
"And I love you." Stephanie held him to her heart for a moment. "I love all of you," she added.
After a moment of hugs, Trixie wiped the tears away and said, "Okay, enough of this mushy crap! Let's plan our next 'Pizza and Secret-Stash Liquor Night'! I call Stingy's house!"
After a bit of goading, Stingy finally relented to hosting.
Seeing her friends also meant Stephanie saw her friends' parents. Ziggy's parents were the first, as expected. Mrs. Rumbaugh spent nearly the entire time she was there fussing over her: was the boot on her foot bearable? Were the nurses treating her well? Was the food up to standard? Mr. Rumbaugh stood quietly in the corner most of the time, gently scolding his wife for her fussing every now and then, but when it came time to leave, he kissed Stephanie's cheek and said, "We love you, Darlin'. Come home real soon, ya hear?"
Trixie's parents were the next set. Mrs. Diamond sat on the edge of Stephanie's bed and raved about their time in New York and the fact that Nathan had finally proposed to his girlfriend. "Oh, finally! The boy's putting down roots. We're just thrilled, aren't we, Ira?"
"Mmm," Trixie's father grunted in response, as he flipped through every channel on the television. "You've got the baseball channel here, Stephanie. That's some luck."
"Ira!" Mrs. Diamond chastised her husband. "Stephanie was kidnapped and left for dead! Show a little understanding." Stephanie looked away uncomfortably.
"Hey, I'm just saying—there's at least one silver lining to all of this! I didn't know Lazytown Hospital sprung for all the premium channels. Stephanie, sweetheart. You know I care."
"Oh honestly! Sometimes you can be so insensitive." Ellen Diamond turned back to Stephanie with a smile. "Stephanie, darling, tell me the truth: don't you think Jones Island is a far better wedding spot than Long Island?"
"Um," Stephanie replied.
Stingy's mother visited next, along with Mr. Rumbaugh, surprisingly. Ziggy's father tipped his hat to Stephanie, but stood outside, allowing Adana to sit with her in confidence. "Oh we're becoming quite good friends, the Rumbaughs and I!" Adana gushed. "All of their grandchildren are now in town, so I've taken to entertaining the eldest. It's been quite the adventure—two of the little girls, Kathy and Melinda, they've been having sweet little tea parties with me in the afternoons. And Careworn's been teaching young Ned how to fence. It's been lovely."
Stephanie smiled and took Adana's hand. "I'm so glad to hear that, Mrs. Worthmore."
"Stephanie, I want you to know that I've been praying for you every night. I hope you can go home to your family soon."
"Thank you, Mrs. Worthmore. I hope so too."
Pixel's mother, Miranda, was the last of the parents. She just sat there, in her quiet way, stroking Stephanie's hand and watching the television with her. She barely said a whole sentence while she was there, but right before she left, Miranda turned and said, "I think you're the strongest person I know, Stephanie. If I were half as strong as you…the things I could do." She smiled softly and disappeared out the door. Stephanie smiled and blinked away a tear before it could fall.
Aunt Bessie finally came to see her, and it was wonderful. They talked—they really talked, the way they hadn't before. Stephanie felt like she'd finally connected with her aunt in the way that she never had before, even though they'd known each other for years. When Aunt Bessie had to leave, it pulled at her heart in a way that seeing any of her other visits hadn't when they'd left her. Stephanie truly wanted to get up from that bed and go home with her.
Soon enough, she told herself.
The second-to-last day Stephanie was there, Maven came to visit.
Stephanie shouldn't have been too surprised by that. She knew her disappearance and rescue had been a major shakeup in the town, and it would only make sense that the Mayor would want to check on her. Still, Stephanie was caught a bit off-guard when the beautiful politician entered her room, carrying a white embossed shopping bag and wearing a sharp blue pinstripe suit. It made Stephanie all the more aware how debilitating her ordeal had been; she felt haggard and hideous.
Still, Stephanie automatically shifted to "professional mode" when Maven smiled nervously and said, "Hi there. Would you mind having some company?"
"Not at all. Would you like to sit down?"
"Yes, thank you. I've heard from Milford and Bessie that you're feeling much better, maybe just a little tired. Does that sound accurate?"
Stephanie shrugged. "For the most part. My ankle aches a bit, and I'm getting a little stir crazy just lying here all day."
"I can imagine." Maven tucked a stray lock of scarlet hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. "We're doing everything we can to find the people who did this to you, Stephanie. We…don't have much to go on, I'm sorry to say, but we have a couple of leads. I'm sure Sportacus has filled you in on some of it when he's visited?"
Stephanie's face fell. "He hasn't come by to see me."
Maven groaned and closed her eyes. "Sportacus," she muttered in irritation. She shook her head, and continued. "Two local boys were given bribes to provide misleading information to us. One of them…was Teddy Fung. He came to my office the night you disappeared and told us he'd seen you walking out of town and got into a car driven by a man."
"What? He said that?"
"Like I said, he was paid to lie. Based on the description that he and the other boy provided, it was the same man that approached them both. We're having the State Police create a composite sketch and circulate it, but so far no one's been able to place him."
Stephanie was silent for a moment. "When you have the sketch completed, can I see it?"
"Yes, of course. Do you remember seeing someone when you were taken?"
"Not when I was taken, but a couple days before this happened, I noticed a man on two separate occasions watching me: once when I was at a restaurant in Technopolis, and once when I was at the docks—the night of the fire. Maybe it was the same guy."
"You think someone was following you? Have you told Sheriff Knobbs?"
"Well, no. I hadn't really even thought of it until now."
Maven looked at her with sympathy. "I understand. It's been a lot to process in the last few days. But I'm going to tell Sheriff Knobbs what you told me, and he'll probably want to speak with you."
"That's fine. He knows where to find me. I'm not going anywhere." Stephanie smiled wryly.
"Yes, I guess that's true." Maven stopped at this point, seemingly thinking to herself.
Stephanie leaned forward slightly. "Maven? Is something wrong?"
Maven looked at her for a moment, clearly conflicted. Then the mayor got up and walked to the window. "Stephanie…I have to apologize to you."
Oh good, another apology for me to receive and accept, Stephanie thought sardonically to herself. To Maven, she asked—naturally—"For what?"
"I…haven't thought very kindly of you. When you and Bessie fought—well, you see…I haven't had a lot of friends in my life—real friends, that is. Oh, I have colleagues and contacts through networking and such, but no true friends on an emotional level. Until Bessie. She's what I would call…my best friend. Aside from Sportacus, of course. And when you and Bessie fought and she was so upset, I made you out to be the bad guy in my mind. It's childish, I know—but she was so hurt, and when you left home and went to stay with your friends, I thought you were being disrespectful and irresponsible.
"And then when Sportacus and I were on vacation and we came back because he thought something had happened to you, I just blew it off, because I figured you'd just decided to leave Lazytown without a word. I was—really resentful at first, that I had to shorten our trip to come back here. But then we found out what actually happened, and…" Maven put her hand to her mouth, and went to sit back down in the chair. "I thought the worst of you, Stephanie, and you didn't deserve that. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. And that I hope you can forgive me."
"Maven. Of course I can. I appreciate that you care for Aunt Bessie so much. And I know she values her friendship with you too."
"That's nice to know. Oh! I almost forgot." Maven reached into the bag at her feet and pulled out a box wrapped in gold foil. I brought these for you."
Stephanie took the box from Maven and unwrapped it. "Ooh, Lake Grigio Chocolates! Thank you, Maven. I love these. Oh, and they're peanut butter—those are the best!"
"They absolutely are. But I'm partial to their butter caramel too."
"Yeah those are pretty awesome too. Here, have some."
"Oh, well…I guess one won't hurt. But don't tell Sportacus. He thinks I eat as healthy as him." Maven winked as she bit into one of the candies.
"Your secret's safe with me," Stephanie replied.
Some hours after Maven visited, Stephanie was coming back from having bloodwork done and found a man she didn't recognize standing by the window in the far corner of her room. Frowning, she looked at Officer Gleason, who didn't seem perturbed by it. "He's with the State Police, Miss," he told her.
"Can I help you?" Stephanie called as she wheeled herself into the room.
The man turned around. He was a young guy, by Stephanie's estimation—maybe just a few years older than her. He was tall and lean, with dark blonde hair and a beard just a shade or two darker than that. When he saw her, he gave a light chuckle deep in the back of his throat and said, "Good evening! Sorry to drop in like this. Miss Stephanie Meanswell?"
"Yes, that's me."
"I'm Detective Tretoro. Brent Tretoro, that is. I'd like to talk to you. If that's okay." The chuckle in his throat lingered as he showed her his badge and shook her hand. His jovial nature made Stephanie think he must have been a surfer or a frat boy in his younger days.
"That's fine. Everyone wants to talk to me."
"Haha, yeah, I bet! So, uh…how do you feel?"
"Better than before. My ankle's going to need time to heal, hence the scooter." She gestured to the wheeled platform. She looked at him, more closely this time. "Do I know you? Have we met?"
Detective Tretoro frowned. "Maybe? You might have seen me in passing. I used to live in Lazytown! Moved away right before high school, but I came back every couple of years to visit."
"I see. Well, let me just get myself back in bed. I'm not supposed to be on my feet for too long."
"Oh sure! Here let me help." Detective Tretoro held her hips and helped her slide into the bed. Stephanie didn't look him in the eye as he did this. There was something about his touch…it brought the blood to her cheeks. Stephanie cleared her throat and shifted into professional mode. "So, what information can I provide you with, Detective?"
"Well, let's see here." He rolled up the coffee-brown sleeves of his dress shirt and settled himself into the chair with a pad and pencil. "I already read the reports from Officer Obtuse and Sheriff Knobbs' group, so I won't ask you rehash the whole story of your abduction. What I will ask is, has anyone…unusual come to see you since you've been here?"
"You'll have to be a little more specific. The whole situation has been unusual."
"Haha, yeah I'm sure it has. What I mean is, have you seen anyone suspicious lurking around your room? Someone that you don't know—and who hasn't introduced themselves?"
"Not that I recall."
"And before this all happened; did you notice anyone following you?"
"Actually, yes."
"What did he look like?"
"It looked like a group of men. They were all dressed very nicely and looked Mediterranean. I saw them twice: both a couple days before I was taken, when I was at public venues."
"Oh. They were foreign, then?"
"Yep. And they looked like they were sketching something or writing something."
"I see." Detective Tretoro seemed unimpressed.
"So…do you want me to describe them to you?"
"Describe them? Oh, yeah, sure." He got out a pad of paper and took down Stephanie's description.
"Did you have any other questions for me, Detective?" She asked after she told him about the men she'd seen.
"Yes, if you don't mind. Do you plan to stay here?"
"Hopefully not for too much longer. Dr. Bonebreak said I should be able to return home in the next day or so…"
"No, sorry, that's not what I meant. I meant, are you planning to stay in Lazytown?"
"Probably until I have to go back to college for the fall, yes. Why?"
"Just that…this might not be the safest place for you. The ones you perpetrated this crime against you are still at large, and based on the fact that the attack was so well-planned and carried out, Lazytown is probably not prepared to handle this sort of threat."
"So are you saying? That I was targeted by some sort of…crime syndicate?"
Detective Tretoro's deep brown eyes bore into hers. "That's exactly what I'm saying. We're still trying to figure out why, but you've been targeted by very powerful, very connected people. For the sake of your well-being, I think you should strongly consider relocating somewhere else—and not coming back here again."
"But…my family is here. My friends are here."
"I understand that, but we're talking about your life. I think that if your friends and family want the best for you, they'll understand this."
Stephanie held her head in her hands, trying to process this. Detective Tretoro sighed and added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't want you to get hurt again."
"Was there anything else?" she asked him.
"No. Well…yes, there is one other thing. How well do you know Robbie Rotten? That is, what do you think of him?"
"Robbie? Well, I've known him for quite some time, since I was a little girl living here. What do I think of him—that's tough to say. He's…well, he's moody, cantankerous, arrogant—but brilliant. Why?"
The young detective shifted his eyes around the room and gave out a light, nervous laugh. "It's possible that he might have information that would help our investigation. Based on what little we know about his past…he might know the people behind your attack. I was just trying to gauge…how cooperative you think he might be."
"Hmm. I know Sportacus has been trying for years to get Robbie to change his ways and be more of a neighbor to everyone, but it hasn't worked."
Detective Tretoro's expression changed to something that was difficult to read. "I suppose if anyone would have been successful, it would have been Sportacus, wouldn't it?" He stood up, suddenly. "I think that's all I need to know, Miss Meanswell. Thank you very much for you time." He held out his hand, and when Stephanie took it, he placed his hand over hers. "Just think about what I told you, okay?"
Stephanie slipped her hand out of his, once again feeling the warm of a blush on her cheeks. "I will. Good night, Detective."
That same night, after the cop left, Stephanie dreamt she was back under that bridge. She couldn't move, and it was so dark, and so hot. "Help," she whispered. It was getting harder to breathe. "Help," she called again.
Finally she heard something—like a rain shower. Was it raining on the bridge? Stephanie tried to feel around her, but her hands met smooth walls. Still the rain fell. It sounded hard and crumbly, like there was perhaps snow mixed in. She felt all around her, and realized she had much less room to move than she did before. The top of the bridge was right above her, just a few inches. She ran her hands over it, then started pounding on it. More rain fell over the bridge. She bit back a sob and tried to feel around some more, trying to figure out if there was some sort of escape. She brought her hands over her head, and realized something.
There was a wall behind her head.
Stephanie stretched her legs, and her foot hit a wall there too. There was another shower of something overhead.
She wasn't under a bridge; she was in a box. She was in a coffin!
That wasn't rain falling. It was dirt being thrown on top.
"Oh no! Help! Please! I'm alive! I'm alive!" she screamed.
There was silence for a while. She didn't know how long. Then there was a voice: clear, cold, professional. It said, "It's done. The target has been neutralized."
She awoke, sweating and panting, heart racing. Catching her breath, she sat up in her bed and called out, "Officer Simonds?"
The friendly face of Officer Simonds peaked into her room. "I'm here, Miss," he assured her.
On her last full day in the hospital, Sportacus finally came to visit.
She was sitting in the recliner by the window, staring out at the parking lot. She was glad she was sitting there and not in bed; she was also glad that she was fully dressed in regular street clothes and not a gown. She didn't want his pity.
His entrance into her room was cautious—full of dread—as though he were going to a funeral. He leaned forward slightly as he approached her. "Stephanie?" He stared at her.
She didn't answer. She glared at him, jaw set tightly in a grimace. Every bit of hospitality she'd had for all the other people who traipsed in and out of her room had run dry. And even if she had any, she was far too angry to summon it.
Sportacus knew this. He sighed, deeply, then clasped his hands in front of him. "I'm so sorry."
She still didn't answer. She merely re-crossed her arms and looked at him.
He tried again. "I know I let you down. This is all my fault. If I hadn't left Lazytown…"
Stephanie frowned in confusion, cocking her head slightly.
"I swore to protect you, and I failed. I know you're angry at me for this…" Stephanie shook her head as he said this, but he continued. "You'd be safe if it weren't for me. I have a duty to this town, and I decided to go off and leave everyone unprotected, and you got hurt…I'd understand if you never wanted to see me again." He started to turn around.
"Stop!"
He turned around and looked at her. "That's not why I'm angry, you dope!" Stephanie braced her hands of the arms of her chair as though she were going to get up, but she stopped herself, remembering her foot. "What happened to me was not your fault. If you think that I'm angry because you took a vacation…God, Sportacus." She gritted her teeth and looked away.
"If that's not it…then why…"
"Do you know how long I've been here? Almost four days! I'm going home tomorrow, God willing. And now—now!—you finally decide to come see me?"
"I know. Maven told me you wanted to see me."
"Maven had to tell you…Jesus Christ." Stephanie tugged at her hair. "Anything to avoid me, right?"
"Avoid you? No! No, Stephanie, it's not that! I really care about you! I…"
"You care? Well, you have a funny way of showing it!"
"Stephanie, please." He walked to her and sat by her side on the bed. "I've spent day and night looking for clues, following up on leads, interrogating people." Memories of Teddy and that other boy, Vic, flew through his mind. "I was trying to do what was best for you."
"What was best." Stephanie repeated these words, shaking her head while looking at the ceiling. "Sportacus, did it ever occur to you that what I needed most was to have you here with me, standing by my side?"
"I…," he didn't have a quick answer to this. He looked into her pleading eyes, and felt those feelings he shouldn't have, coming to the surface. "I have to bring the person who did this to you to justice."
"You and the entire County Sheriff's department! Why are you acting like all of this rests on your shoulders?"
"Because it does!" he burst out. "Because...I can't let what happened happen here."
"Gloriana?" Stephanie asked.
"How do you know about her?"
She shrugged. "Uncle Milford told me."
"What did he tell you?"
"That there was a horrible fire in the town she was protecting, and people died. And that she never forgave herself."
He nodded. "It all started playing out the way it did with her. I went away…with Maven…and then this happened to you. I let my guard down. If I'd just…"
Stephanie put her hands over her ears. "Please, please, just stop. I've heard it from Aunt Bessie. I've heard it from Ziggy. Enough! Someone targeted me. Someone with a lot of resources and a plan. Someone was waiting for just the perfect moment…and they found it." Stephanie took his hand. "I'm here. I'm okay. You found me and made sure I got the help I needed. I'll be fine. But I can't stand being treated like some weak, fragile thing that has to be kept under glass and kept at arm's length! I…I miss you, Sportacus! I need you—not your protection, not your pity—you!"
Sportacus felt like his heart was going to burst, like all of his emotions were building in his throat. But he swallowed them down and said, "Stephanie, I'm so sorry. You know you mean the world to me. But I'm with Maven…"
"I know, Sportacus!" Stephanie shouted. She shouted so loudly, in fact, that Officer Welles stuck his head into the room for a moment. She closed her eyes and exhaled. "I know," she said in a softer voice. "And it's okay. Your friendship is enough for me. You might find this hard to believe, but I have no desire to steal another woman's boyfriend."
He stared at her for a moment.
"What?" she asked him.
"I've been doing something. I didn't realize I'd been doing it until now."
"What's that?"
"Every time I look at you, I've been looking for her."
It took Stephanie a moment to figure out what Sportacus meant. They stared at each other in silence. The heart monitor beeped steadily. The bed made a growling noise as it vibrated, meaning to prevent sores. In the hallway a nurse shouted at another that they needed a saline drip in Room 128.
Sportacus did what many of us do when they see someone they hadn't seen in a while, who'd aged dramatically—he was looking for those features that were recognizable and familiar. Something that would be a touchstone, that would make one feel like they hadn't lost something. He was looking for the little girl he'd known every time he looked at Stephanie.
She shook her head. "I loved my childhood. I loved being her. But I'm not her anymore. You have to accept that."
"I…I thought I had. But I think that now, for the very first time, I'm not seeing her anymore."
They sat together and talked for a long time—longer than any of the conversations they'd had collectively since she'd returned. She gave him the in-depth story of her time under the bridge, including the mysterious creature that helped her. Sportacus admitted something that she hadn't realized, that shocked her: it had been Robbie Rotten who'd found her first, not him.
Sportacus told her about his investigation and talking to Teddy and Vic. He pitied them, he told her. They were both given bribes, they were preyed on because of their desperation. The boy from Parched Falls especially. It had taken a while to break down the boy's defenses—even after Sportacus dragged him to Sheriff Knobbs' office. Eventually, though, his tough talk and smug attitude faded and he cracked.
"Screw all of you!" Vic burst out, tears welling in his eyes. "You don't know what it's like in our town! There's no big brother to play baseball with, no happy adults giving you candy and good advice! In our town, everyone just drinks. And if you're lucky, your parents are too wrapped up in their own messes to slap you around! That money was gonna get me out of this place!"
Not that Teddy's story wasn't heartbreaking. It stemmed more from his parents, who just held each other's hands and stared at the ground. "Where did we go wrong?" Mrs. Fung asked, to no one in particular. "How did our son turn into a person who could be a part of something like this?"
Sheriff Knobbs agreed to work with the State so that Teddy and Vic could get plea deals in exchange for providing all the information they could. Sportacus shook his head. "I never realized how bad it was in Parched Falls."
"I didn't either. And I didn't realize how desperate Teddy was. I feel bad for both of them," Stephanie told him.
Sportacus just smiled. It was a remarkable woman who could feel sympathy for people who profited from her suffering.
"There's something I don't understand," Stephanie said quietly.
"What's that?"
"You said you were out of town with Maven when I was…you know. But your crystal was out of range, and nobody from town let you know what happened. How did you know to come back just when everyone figured out something was wrong?"
Sportacus sighed and took her hand in his. "I really don't know for sure. I also had a strong feeling that I knew where you were, although I didn't act on it. I think…that it's part of being a guardian. It's only happened a couple of other times in our history; it's so rare that I think most of us just pass off the events as myths."
"What are you talking about?"
"As guardians, we are supposed to rely on the technology we're given to do our jobs: our crystals and our airships. But it's also possible for us to form connections with others—and these connections are so strong that we can sense when the person we're connected to is in trouble, even when they're far away."
Stephanie felt herself blush under his gaze. "So you think that somehow…you and I are connected this way?"
"Maybe so. I felt it the night that you were attacked in Ocean City. I didn't know what was wrong, and I didn't know it was you…but I felt it. Oh Stephanie, I wish I could have protected you…protected you from everything. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself." He hung his head.
Stephanie thought for a moment, then, on a whim, she reached over and pulled the cap off of his head and ran her fingers through his reddish-brown hair. "Is it any consolation that I forgive you?"
Sportacus took her hand from his hair and held it to his tear-stained cheek.
The next day came far too slowly for Stephanie's liking. It was hours until she was finally clear to be discharged. They examined her with exceptional thoroughness, ensuring that her ankle was healing properly and that the boot would be sufficient for helping her to heal. They made her take one more urine test to guarantee the drugs were fully out of her system. Doctor Bonebreak went over an entire recovery plan with her, noting all of her follow up exams, nutrition plan, exercise plan—the works.
Finally they allowed her to dress and prepare for departure. Bessie and Trixie pounced on her almost immediately: wiping her down, lotioning her skin, combing her hair, dressing her. They wouldn't let her do a thing for herself.
"What do you think, Bessie? Black ballet flat, or white flip flop?" Trixie asked Bessie while the latter was plaiting Stephanie's hair.
"Hm. I'd say the flip flop, dear. The boot she's wearing has a bit of a lift."
"Good choice!" Trixie knelt down and slip the thong shoe on Stephanie's foot.
"Are you two going to let me do anything for myself?" Stephanie complained.
"Oh, come on, Pinky! You've been through something traumatic. Just let us pamper you a bit, and then you can go back to being the proud, independent lioness you've always been. Right, Bessie?"
"That's right, dear! Oh Stephanie! Your hair is just lovely in a braid. You should wear it like this more often."
Stephanie rolled her eyes. She was glad that her aunt and Trixie had finally become friends, but she wasn't crazy about them ganging up on her. Just then, Sportacus and Milford entered the room. Sportacus smiled at Stephanie, which she returned shyly. "Are you ready to go home? I told Sheriff Knobbs I'd escort you home myself. All of you, that is," Sportacus added, nodding to Milford and Bessie.
"I'm more than ready," Stephanie announced with a smile.
Lisa, the nurse who'd cared for Stephanie the most since she'd first arrived in the ER, was waiting outside the door. Stephanie wrapped her arms around her. "Thank you for taking care of me when I couldn't," she told her.
"All in a day's work, Baby," Lisa told her. "You take care of yourself, hear me?"
Sheriff Knobbs shook her hand. "We'll be in touch, Stephanie. We're not giving up until we find the people who did this—you can count on that."
Stephanie thanked him and continued on to the door. The boot around her foot still weighed her down, but she all but forgot it when she felt the warm heat of the sun, splashing her skin as she made it to Uncle Milford's car. She was free.
Home, at last. Stephanie almost felt the way she did several weeks ago when she first came to Lazytown: everything a little new and strange. She thought of how so much had happened since the night of her fight with Aunt Bessie. There were feelings of remorse, of regret—but she pushed them away. This was a happy moment for them. She wasn't going to spoil it with memories of what had been.
The Sheriff's office was going to have a patrol car drive around their neighborhood during the nights for a period of time to be determined later. Sportacus would take day shifts as well, patrolling both on foot and with his airship on autopilot, sending a constant stream of data to his watch.
Dinner was one of the many frozen and reheated casseroles that their friends and neighbors had offered to them over the course of the last few days. The meal was eaten mostly in silence; Stephanie tried not to notice her aunt's soft, shining eyes or her uncle's habit of coughing uncomfortably. After dinner, Stephanie announced that she was feeling tired and wanted to turn in early.
"Already, dear? Are you sure? Perhaps we could watch a movie, or play a game of Uno, or…" Uncle Milford trailed off, defeated long before he'd even finished his sentence.
"Maybe tomorrow, Uncle Milford. Right now I…I'd just like to rest in my own bed."
"Of course, Stephanie. We understand," Aunt Bessie told her, although she seemed to be struggling to say the words.
Stephanie slowly made the climb up the stairs, sensing that her uncle was right behind her in case she faltered. But she didn't. She got to her room and quietly shut the door behind her. She breathed in the cool, lifeless air in her bedroom and noted the neatness and order of everything in it.
She looked down at her foot despondently. At least she didn't have to shower that night. Lisa had helped her bathe before she'd been discharged. Uncle Milford told her that Randy Paisley had given them a shower chair so she wouldn't have to stand. Carefully she undressed and got into her pajamas, wincing a little from the effort.
She sat down on the bed, running her fingers over the cool plushness of the cherry pink coverlet. She was tired—exhausted, even—but not sleepy. She gazed around her room and tried to remember how lucky she was. She'd been rescued, and was mostly unharmed. In six weeks, her ankle would most likely be fully healed and she wouldn't suffer any lasting effects from it. No one else had been harmed—whoever it was, was only after her.
They were only after her.
And they were still out there. Brent Tretoro's warnings came back to her.
But Sportacus and Officer Obtuse and the entire County Sheriff's department and even the State Police were looking for the people that did this to her! She was perfectly safe, perfectly…
She was humiliated all of a sudden, thinking of all these people in this town and beyond knowing what she'd gone through, pitying her for it, talking about her.
She felt shame-so much of it, in fact, that it feels like something hot and thick and bitter running down her throat, and it chokes her. She never minded attention (she'd loved to dance and perform, once), but only when it was her choice, when she commanded it. But that had been taken away from her.
She thought back to her time in the hospital, to when she was groggy but still painfully lucid. She could only lie there while they examined her, while she was swabbed for the required rape kit. Being asked the same questions over and over when all she wanted to do was rest. She'd tried hard not to let it bother her when she had to let the nurses and techs do things for her. She was a professional in the sciences too—they were only trying to help her. She pretended it wasn't a big deal when she needed help going to the toilet or when her period started and she'd bled into the bed and had to be cleaned up, or when someone had to help her eat. All temporary.
Stephanie breathed in deeply and smoothed back her hair, noting that it was finally beginning to regain its silky weightiness that she was accustomed to. She was really very fortunate. Being young, her body would bounce back fast. She had people who loved her, who would help her. People who hadn't given up until she was found. Who could ask for more?
She couldn't spend another moment in that room. Too much silence. Too much loneliness. She'd never minded being alone; in fact, she often loved it. But she couldn't stand it now. She needed another person, someone, anyone. She needed to know she wasn't alone.
She was soon up and leaving her room and limping down the hall, following the sound of voices speaking softly. Her knock on their door was answered quickly with a call to enter.
Her aunt and uncle were sitting on the bed, side by side. Watching her with a mixture of worry and hope. "Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, but…" Stephanie trailed off. She thought of leaving, feeling like she'd imposed on them. But she didn't want to leave. For the first time, she didn't want to be polite and reserved.
She could feel her walls coming down, and her body started to tremble. A sob escaped her throat, and though her lips tried to form words, nothing came out but cries.
Uncle Milford was at her side in an instant, leading her to the bed. Aunt Bessie pulled back the covers and they helped her in, removing her boot and gently moving her foot underneath the blankets. She was still crying as they both got in beside her, their arms wrapping around her. And even though she couldn't seem to stop, even though the weight of her pain was overwhelming, she'd never felt so loved in all of her life.