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

Chapter Five-- "Shadows Of A Man"

Geraldine Waxelplax's invitation to return and her out of character behavior really left Crocker reeling. He knew as well as anyone that no one liked him at the school--much less missed him. Her reaching out to him was too much for his unstable mind to grasp without the paranoid suspicion. Was she setting him up? Did she really mean what she said? Was she expressing pity?

"I don't need her pity," he grumbled as he clocked out and dragged himself into his van for the drive home, "No one needs to worry for me. I'm all right."

He ignored the question that gnawed at the back of his mind: Am I all right?

As the thought remained persistent, demanding his acknowledgement to no avail, Crocker fell deep into memories that quickly became vivid flashbacks. He was no longer sitting behind the wheel of his fairy-detection van. He was visiting the past once again.

---------------

After the whole humiliating scene in Dimmsdale University's auditorium, Crocker went in search of his girlfriend. She had a way of comforting him with her quiet understanding at times such as these. He searched up and down the halls and practically swept the entire campus, seeking, but never finding. He knew he'd seen her in the audience. Where had she disappeared to?

"I suppose I'll see her at Sheldon's party tomorrow night," he sighed as evening fell and he still had not found her. The campus was deserted and a chilly March wind was blowing. Shuddering both from the chill and the memories of his most recent humiliation, Denzel Crocker turned toward home.

He wasn't permitted to live in a dorm like most of the other college students. From his childhood, he was labeled a borderline mental case and the safest place for him to be--for the sake of other citizens--was his own home not far from the campus. As he parked his dilapidated, used $500 van in his driveway, the bumper fell unceremoniously to the concrete, unnoticed by him as he was in too heavy an emotional slump to care.

"How was the big speech, Denzel?" his mother asked as he dragged his feet through the door.

"Don't ask," Crocker sighed despondently, dropping his jacket on the floor near the coat rack and ascending the stairs as though his feet were encased in concrete blocks. His mother looked concerned, but didn't press the issue.

In the silent solitude of his barren room, he reflected on the day's events, his spirit sinking to an all-time low as the laughter echoed in his mind--the pain of rejection becoming more real than ever.

"Stop laughing at me!" he cried into the stillness, beating his temples with clenched fists as though trying to knock the sound from his memory.

In sheer emotional exhaustion, he passed out on his bed, retreating to the oblivion only sleep could offer him. His mother came up to check on him roughly an hour later and gazed at his frail, dejected form with pity. How she wished she knew what had happened to cause him to be as he was. Pushing the depressing thoughts from her mind, she gently draped a quilt over her son and left the room, flicking the light off as she departed.

The next day, Crocker went to classes, then shifted gears--sort of--to accomplish his tasks at work and, by evening, he was ready to drop. Still, he mustered enough energy to uphold his obligation to go to Sheldon Dinkleburg's party with Geraldine in spite of the fact that--at the moment--he wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. If he felt that way before the party, he was destined to feel much worse later on.

He arrived at Dinkleburg's place fashionably late, his van still short one bumper. Originally, he'd stopped by Geraldine's dorm to pick her up, but she wasn't there, so he guessed she must have headed to the party alone due to his lateness.

He was right. Geraldine was at the party one half hour prior to his arrival. She looked apprehensive--like something was weighing on her mind even as she stood talking and laughing with Dinkleburg. Crocker could sense an ominous feel in the air as he approached her.

"Evening, Geraldine," he smiled, trying desperately to put yesterday's events out of his mind and have a good time as he handed her a single, slightly wilted carnation.

"Denzel," Geraldine said hesitantly, accepting the flower and looking at him with a solemn expression, "There's...something I need to tell you."

"And?" Crocker's expression dropped. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what was coming.

"And you're probably not going to like it."

Well, at least his suspicions were confirmed with that statement.

"Denzel...I don't know how to say this, but..." she bit her lower lip and looked down at the floor, silently praying her next words wouldn't hurt him as much as she knew they would, "Things aren't going to work out. You and I...we just don't blend very well anymore."

She paused, allowing Crocker time to absorb what she'd said. He stood expressionless, staring at her in hollow disbelief as her words sank in. He could only think to word one response.

"Why?"

"It's over, Denzel," Geraldine continued, forcing herself to become firm, "Your performance in the auditorium yesterday proved to me that everyone was right all those years--you're crazy and you need professional help."

"Well, fine," Crocker's response was desperate, "I'll get professional help! You don't have to break up with me--"

"Yes, I do," Geraldine replied, pulling him aside to talk to him privately, "I can't have people thinking I'm in love with a mental case, Denzel. I have a reputation to keep. I...hope you understand."

"Yeah," Crocker forced a bright tone and an understanding smile, masking the hurt, "I understand. No worries...but...you're sure it's over?"

"It's over, Denzel. I'm sorry."

Crocker stared after her as she left him to go to the other side of the room and mingle--far away from him. He could only stand in complete shock. As if that wasn't enough to crush him, Elton John's "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" began softly playing from the gigantic speakers on Dinkleburg's brand new stereo--which he'd purchased with the college grants that were originally intended to be given to Crocker. In fact, the party was thrown to celebrate his sudden wealth.

As the lyrics to the song penetrated him painfully, Denzel Crocker turned and left the party and--sadly--not a soul was aware of his departure.

---------------

Crocker was jolted back to the present when someone behind him blared his horn impatiently. The traffic light was green and had been so for quite some time, but by the time Crocker realized that, it turned red. No doubt, the people in the backup behind him were furious. He struggled to remain in the present as he waited for the light to change again.

When he finally arrived at the house, he barely acknowledged his mother with more than an incoherent grumble as he headed upstairs. He was too exhausted and disturbed to eat, so he chose to go another night without dinner--much to his mother's concern. He'd been skipping dinner more often than usual lately and she guessed it was because of the depression that seemed to cloud his eyes.

Crocker made it a point to crash the instant he was in his room. He collapsed on the bed and immediately fell into a fitful sleep the instant his head hit the pillow. Sleep had never come so quickly without a sedative before and he wished it hadn't. At least when sleep was induced by a sedative, it was untouched by dreams. He twitched and convulsed and muttered as ghosts of the past haunted his restless slumber--ghosts he thought he'd dealt with long ago...only to find out they still lingered in the shadows of his subconscious mind.