Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.

Chapter Ten-- "One More Night"

Contrary to Timmy's belief that his teacher would be in a frenzied rush to get to work, Crocker took his time coming to the school. He had big plans for today. It would take a genius to figure out that Timmy Turner had fairy godparents--and he's that genius. He knew he was right. If only he could prove it.

His thoughts were interrupted with an extremely unwanted jolt when his mother stood waiting for him just inside the building. He didn't look at all surprised though. He somehow expected her to show up sooner or later--if she ever got enough sense to figure out where to find him for sure.

"Mother, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice monotonous and indifferent, but each word clipped so one would get the idea he was not pleased to see her.

"I've come to take you home," she replied, "Or to the mental institution--if it comes down to it."

"You can't take me anywhere!" Crocker snapped, abandoning self-control much earlier in the argument than before, "I don't need you--or anyone else for that matter! So you can take your motherly, uh...motherliness and...shove it up your nose!"

"Why I never!"

"That makes two of us," Crocker hissed, getting in her face, then turning on his heel to step around her and head to his classroom. He had no clue his mother was following him until...

"All right," she continued, "If you don't want to come home, I won't make you."

"What?!" Timmy exploded, horrified at this unexpected turn of events, "No! You--you have to make him! You don't understand what's going on here! Your son is living--"

"The life of Reilly!" Crocker interrupted, clapping a hand over Timmy's mouth.

"As long as you're happy," his mother sniffled sadly, "That's all that matters to me. I love you, Denzel..."

Crocker was oblivious to the fact that his mouth was hanging open in shock. He almost felt compelled to go after her as she turned and left, but he stopped himself and made a conscious effort to fight off the shock and retain his bitter, callous demeanor.

"Back to your desk, Turner!" he barked, dropping Timmy on the floor and violently pointing toward the said location, "We have tests to do and I don't have all day!"

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That night, lying wide awake on the roll-away bed in the Turner's living room, Crocker was ridden with guilt. Yes, the man had a conscience and he desperately wished he didn't. He had already pieced together Timmy's involvement in his mother's showing up at the school and how he would love to strangle that little meddling brat, but the big question still remained. Could he withstand the guilt and perhaps rise above it and go on with his life?

Upstairs, Timmy was still awake as well. He wasn't feeling guilty though. He was frustrated. His attempt at getting Crocker out of his home life had failed. He was surprised Crocker hadn't presented a big fat "Super F" to him for his efforts--not that he wanted one.

Meanwhile, Crocker finally managed to doze off, but his vague dreams were haunted by his mother. He hated to admit it, but she did try her best. She was probably the only person who'd remained consistent throughout his entire life. Everyone else had changed--turned against him, mocked him, betrayed him--but not his mother. True, she'd had her faults and she hadn't been there for him during his childhood, but the few times she was around, she was always the same.

It was then and there that a heavy realization hit Crocker like a ton of bricks--he needed his mother. As much as he hated to admit it, she was the only secure, unchanging figure in his life and--with the mental and emotional afflictions he suffered--he desperately needed that sense of security...even if the giver of the security proved to be a royal pain in the neck ninety percent of the time. At last, his mind was made up.

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After pondering things half the night, Timmy had come up with an ultimatum which he intended to present to Crocker the following morning. He'd decided that he might be able to scare Crocker out with a threat. If he didn't go home, Timmy would call the asylum on him and have him degraded and hauled off in a straitjacket to spend an extended period of time in solitary confinement in a padded room.

The next morning, he marched down the stairs to confront his crazy teacher, but he was completely caught off guard when Crocker beat him to the punch.

"Good morning, Turner," he said, sarcasm dripping from his insincere greeting, "Before you cower before me and whimper and whine simply because I am capable of intimidating you, I have something to say: I'm leaving!"

Timmy was knocked off balance when Crocker snapped the final words in his face, hard enough to give him a bad hair day.

"I'm sick to death of sleeping on that rock that dares to call itself a bed!" he continued, lying through his teeth as the roll-away bed was actually more tolerable than his own rickety, sagging mattress at home, "I'm sick of the incessant stupidity of your parents! I'm sick of the bathroom smelling like raw sewage every time your father comes out of it! I'm sick of--"

"Everything?" Timmy suggested hesitantly.

"In a word--yes!" Crocker barked, "So I'll be leaving now. It's been real, it's been fun, but it ain't been real fun. I'll see you at school. Good day."

With that, Crocker took his belongings and stomped out the door, being sure to slam it on the way out. Timmy stood in complete shock for a few fleeting moments before he burst into wild cheering and hysterical laughter--which Cosmo and Wanda were happy to join in on.

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"Denzel?" Crocker's mother looked astonished when she found her son standing on her doorstep.

"Mother, I just want to say that...I'm...s--" Crocker grimaced as the apology was already more difficult than he'd anticipated. He couldn't remember the last time he apologized to anyone--much less his mother.

"Yes?"

"I just want to tell you that...I'm very...sor--sor--"

"Sorry?" she asked hopefully, trying to help him finish the sentence without hurting himself.

"Yes," Crocker muttered peevishly, having a pretty good idea of the events that would follow that confession.

"Ah, the prodigal has returned!" his mother exclaimed, flinging her arms around him and causing his spine to crunch loudly, "Now will you help Mommy with her dresses?"

Crocker seethed inwardly. He'd fully expected that, but he was hoping against hope that it wouldn't happen. Of course, Murphy's Law is the story of his life. Swallowing his pride--and nearly choking on it--he heaved a sigh of resignation.

"Do I really have a choice?"

---The End---