"Dark Heart"
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Author's Note: This is an alternate Puritan Universe, okay? That's why Rebecca and everyone can use common phrases from today that weren't around then, and should cover for any other mistakes I may make. We cool? We cool.
This fic is an odd attempt to reconcile the three Care Bear movies to each other; their current state is rather lacking in continuity. Therefore, if you haven't seen at least Care Bears II (the one with all the cute little cubs and the camp and Dark Heart), you will likely have very little idea what I'm talking about.
Finally, this fic is very, very different from anything else I've ever written. If you are very religious, or are very supportive of the Puritan ways, please don't read unless you have a very open mind. If any of my audience is still left, please review!
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The colonists had been Puritans, and it was possible that the plague had spread as it had because of the level of uncaring and fatalism. Their leader, John Williams, had stressed how God's will had befallen them, and that it was useless to fight when the devil was so clearly at hand. Those stricken were hidden away in dark bedrooms, where anxious relatives tried to shoo the Devil away with nosegays and prayers.
Of the two, nosegays would most likely have been most effective, for flowers made this particular devil sneeze. Humans on their knees praying for salvation to a non-existent deity made him laugh.
Denied fresh air and any real sustenance, those stricken quickly withered away. Rebecca had lived in a poor hut since her parents had been cast out. Rachel and Benjamin had preached loving and caring, which was all very well, but they also practiced it, which was not. They had been caught at the docks assisting a Jew to unload his luggage. The Jew was a well-known heretic, and when Rachel and Ben went so far as to accept tea with him they became heretics as well.
Branded and whipped, they were sent away, but their child was kept to be 'saved.' So far, being saved meant poor living conditions and serving the whims of her 'betters.'
Because she mostly avoided contact with the others if she could help it, and since she would not give in to fate and die when she did contract the disease, she lived.
When she was healed Rebecca emerged from the hut and was witness to the carnage the plague had left. The cemetery had outgrown its fence, and a stink arose from most of the houses. Rebecca did not dare to look into any of the homes, for fear of what she would find, but instead gathered what she could from her home and made ready to leave.
It was as she was leaving she saw the horse. It whinnied and strained at its hitching post. The grass around it was cropped short.
Rebecca freed the creature and it followed her docilely as she continued to trudge through what had once been a semi-prosperous village. That was, until she neared a rather ordinary dwelling and the horse made as if to go inside. She couldn't imagine why until she heard the baby's cry.
Holding her breath, she went inside the house to find, not a baby, but a small toddler, maybe two years old, crying desolately near a lumpy mass on the bed. Rebecca carried the child outside, and covered the dead face on the bed with the sheet. She would have left immediately then if the horse had not then led her straight to yet another home, with yet another crying child.
Wonderful, Rebecca thought. While she loved little children, she did not know how she would manage with only herself; with a horse and two toddlers, not yet talking, was approaching the unthinkable. And still the horse led her to another dwelling, this time a hut like the one she herself had lived in.
By the time the horse seemed done finding little children from about the camp and wandered off somewhere else, Rebecca had massed about ten of them underneath an apple tree on the northern side of town. She had not known that so many little ones had been born in the colony, but they all must have, as Rockville had only been established some four years ago.
She hadn't the foggiest idea how she was to care for them all. No sooner had she had that thought when the horse came back from wherever it had been, dragging something behind it.
'It' was a sled of sorts, with a wide assortment of baby animals asleep on it. She spotted a kitten, a puppy, a pig, and some that she had only read about, but must be a penguin or baby elephant. Rebecca blinked. What was she going to do with a baby elephant?
The horse now seemed content to stand still, and gazed at her questioningly. She stared back at it. "I really hope you're done finding things, because I don't know what to do with one of these guys."
Rebecca could have sworn the horse somehow managed to roll its eyes at her, and nodded with its head toward a boat in the harbor. She frowned. Where had the boat come from? For that matter, where had the harbor come from? The apple trees were far from it, and she didn't recall moving.
She shook her head. This was very strange. The horse - she really ought to name the horse if it was going to be around much longer, but she couldn't think of any good names just then - the horse began to haul its sleepy passengers onto the ship. It went up a gangplank that seemed to have been lowered just for that purpose. She began to wonder how on earth the horse knew what the heck it was doing at that point, but she followed anyways.
Rebecca herded the children up the ramp, carrying two that could not yet walk, and as soon as they were all on board, the gangplank hoisted itself up and the ship set sail.
Rebecca decided that was rather convenient and began to search below decks for somewhere to store all her little followers, and put them all to sleep in the beds that had awaited them. The animals went side by side the human children.
Exhausted by now, she fell into a larger bed separated slightly from the others, and was asleep almost instantly, though she ever had troubles falling asleep before.
Of course, while she slept the trials of the day took out their toll on her, and she had the oddest feeling someone was calling to her, asking her to do something.
"Not now," she murmured in her sleep. "Too tired." The feeling seemed to accept that and left.
The next day Rebecca wondered how she was to care for all those now in her charge. She didn't even know what half of them ate, and where food was kept besides. The children all seemed to know what they were doing, and those that could walk would make their way to what Rebecca came to think of as the galley, where they found bottles or hay or cat food or whatever well within reach. The little ones left that could not do for themselves quite yet she fed and placed into a crib on the deck where they could enjoy the fresh air and the company of everyone else roaming around.
The horse seemed content to lie in the sun and have his tail pulled on by inquisitive fingers, so that when Rebecca finally made it to bed that evening, she did not fall asleep so readily, and was in a half-slumbering state when the feeling came back.
Rebecca still did not want to talk, but it pressed insistently, so she asked it what it wanted.
When it told her it wanted her to create gods from those on the ship, she stared at it as she had when the horse had brought her to the children. There was only one god, though she wasn't sure she had such confidence in him any more. After much arguing, she finally decided to humor the insistent voice in the hopes it would go away. Her elders would never have approved, but when had God ever appeared to her? Still, when the feeling, now more of a voice, continued, she exploded.
"You want me to do what?!"
"Look, I don't have all day to explain this, alright? It's an old contract dating from about 4,087 BC. Every hundred years one individual is offered the opportunity to give up their form and become a god of their chosen field."
"Give up my form?"
"Never mind that part. Like, you could pick anything you want, and its powers will be given to you. Love, Beauty, War, Bubblegum..."
"Bubblegum?"
"Never mind, it hasn't been invented yet. Just pick something, okay?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Need I point out you are on a boat with a horse and a score of children, some not even human, whom you don't even know how to take care of? Not only that, but that you have absolutely no idea what is going on and if you stop to think about any of this your head will explode? As a god, you could choose to save them. Just hurry up already."
"Who else has chosen to follow this path?"
"Ever heard of Da Vinci? God of Knowledge. Mozart? God of Music. Henry Ford? God of Commercialism. Washington Carver? God of Peanuts. I could go on."
"I know not who many of these people are, but I do know that Mozart was no god. He died, poor and buried in a common grave."
"Ah, that would be because they took the gift, but refused to give up their forms for it, and so remained common mortals."
"What is this giving up of form of which you so continually speak?"
"Nothing painless. You would still have a body. You just wouldn't be quite as you are now. Nothing bad at all."
"And I can pick anything I want?"
"Anything you can think of."
"I want to be god of caring."
"Caring?" The voice sounded incredulous. "Are you sure? I mean, I thought peanuts was a little odd, but come on, caring?"
"It is in honor of my mother and father."
"Whatever. Okay, you're the God of Caring. Poof. Congratulations."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. Can we get on with this?"
"What do I do next?"
"Reach into this bowl and pull out a piece of paper."
"You use paper for such a thing as this?"
"You ask too many questions, you know that? Just do it."
"Okay." Rebecca reached in a hand. She fished around a little, just to feel she had had something to do with the outcome, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She opened it. It read 'Bear.'
"Bear?"
"Oh, that's a good one. You're very lucky. Well, it'll all be taken care of when you wake up."
"Wait! What about all of my friends on board?"
"You meant the horse, or the screaming children?"
"Well," she said, a little miffed, since she had come to regard the horse as a friend, "Yes. Both, I mean."
"Okay, they can join you. No problem. Poof, poof. Just because you've been so great about this and all."
"That's not exactly what I had in mind-."
Too late. The voice, or whatever it had been, was gone. Rebecca went to sleep.
"Oh, and one more thing."
Well, maybe not gone after all.
"You have to pick a new name. It's to distance yourself from your old life or whatever. Something appropriate to your new station. May I recommend True Heart? Corny, I know, but I do believe it would just suit you."
Then it was gone for good.
Okay.
Rebecca finally went to sleep for the night.
When she woke up next, she had a rather large surprise in store for her.
***
"Oh, my goodness."
Rebecca stared at her furry hand for a moment in shock before she began screaming.
"Ahhhhh! I'm furry! I only have four fingers! I'm shorter! What the heck happened?!"
Rebecca found a mirror and stared. She was a pastel bear with a white tummy, and she was scared out of her wits.
So she did the most reasonable thing she could think of. She ran screaming around her cabin yelling insanely.
It didn't help when the door opened and an odd purple horse standing on its hind legs asked her what was the matter. It looked very concerned until it itself got a look in the mirror, and also began screaming.
Of course, the noise woke the babies.
***
When Rebecca had finally gotten the last child back to sleep, a Herculean task, she and the horse, or what had been a horse yesterday, met in her cabin to discuss their day. It helped that the horse had somehow acquired a complete command of English.
"Okay," Rebecca began. "Let's think about this rationally. For some reason, everyone on board has somehow become intensely cute, and anyone human, a bear. All the animals have suddenly become very short, and we're all pastel. You can now speak English, and some voice last night told me we're the new gods of caring for some inane reason. You follow me so far?"
"Nope."
"Drat. Neither did I."
"Do you think we ought to do anything?"
"You mean other than act as nannies to a ship of ten screaming kids-bears and ten assorted baby animals in the middle of an ocean?"
"Now that you mention it, yeah."
"I have no idea. Oh, wait, the stupid voice - you know, the one I told you about?"
"You sure that wasn't just some weird nightmare?"
"Do you have a better explanation for why we all look like we belong on Hallmark cards, whatever those are?"
"No... Carry on."
"Anyways, the voice said I have to pick a new name. To distance me from my past life or somesuch. I assume this would also go for you, except you never had a name to begin with."
"Great. Did it have any suggestions?"
Rebecca grimaced. "True Heart."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope."
"I kinda like It though. It's weird, but it does suit you."
"Why does everyone keep telling me that?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, you still need a name. And if I'm stuck with True Heart, you get Noble Heart. I'm not going to be corny all by myself."
"What ever. The last kid I knew called me 'Mr. Popo,' so I guess anything's better than that."
"You do realize you have just given me blackmail material for the rest of your life?"
"What? Oh... dang."
"What say we name the brats in the morning?"
"Sure. It's not like we can just call them brats. They have to be something."
"Just so long as this doesn't get any more weird than it already is."
Of course, it did.
***
The next day, after exhausting the cornfields in an effort to come up with names for the little bears and other animals, 'Noble Heart' and 'True Heart,' as they figured they might as well start calling each other, flopped down onto the lounge chairs somewhere on the deck. They had quickly adapted themselves to all the creature comforts the boat provided, although Noble Heart was still tinkering with the satellite dish, trying to figure out why someone would put a bowl anywhere other than a table.
"Hey, True Heart."
"Did you say something, Mr. Po- Noble heart?" True Heart thought the voice had a ring of familiarity to it.
"Nope."
"Did you hear someone just call my name?"
"Yep."
"Oh good. Than I'm not crazy." True Heart tried to go back to sleep.
"I've got a little surprise for you." Nah. There was no voice. No voice at all.
"It turns out someone's just a tad grumpy about what you've been doing," the voice continued. "So you're going to have to do something about that."
True Heart flopped back over. "Do you ever bring any good news?"
"Depends on how you define good news."
"Do you ever bring any news that isn't completely weird and no one in their right minds would ever believe it except we have to because we're cute and pastel now?" Noble Heart inquired.
"Um... Don't think so."
"Just checking."
"So what's the problem?" True Heart asked.
"It seems the God of Apathy and Hate has a problem with you."
"Wouldn't apathy and hate be mutually exclusive?" Noble Heart wanted to know.
"I dunno, wasn't my job. Anyways, just so you know, he might be wandering around, periodically trying to destroy you and all good feelings in the world. Just so you know."
"Please tell me you're kidding," said True Heart.
"Nope. Just thought I'd warn ya. I'll have you know I don't do this for all my clients. You're getting special treatment here."
"Thank you ever so much," said True heart.
"You're welcome." The voice was far too chipper. "Well, I'm off again. Have a nice day."
"That was so not news I wanted to hear today," said True Heart.
"Do you suppose that big red serpent-like thing over there might be a problem?"
True Heart looked to see where Noble Heart was pointing.
"Given our luck lately? Yeah."
"That's what I thought. Well, I guess we ought to go make sure the brats are all secured and then get the heck out of here."
"That's what I was thinking."
And then other stuff happened...
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