Author's Note: In seven days, it will be my birthday. Yay! August 2nd, I'll be seventeen. Go me! Anyway, if you want to give me any presents, like the wonderful gift of illustrations or fanart, I'd love it. If not, just review, okay? I like reviews. ;)
Oh, and one final note before the lengthy disclaimer- there is a lemon in this chapter. Unfortunately for all you horny people out there, it's not in this version. I can't put it on without being thrown off for sure. So, if you really want a peek at it, go to , okay? Sorry, folks.
Disclaimer: Well, although I'd love to say I owned Fairly Oddparents (and then all the money I spend on its merchandise would go straight back to me), I don't. Although I approve of the Timmy/Tootie marriage thing when they get older (apparently, they do, according to what my sources tell me of their kids since I still haven't seen Channel Chasers), I had nothing to do with it. In short, I don't own, you don't sue.
Chapter Eight: Needful Things
She was drowning. Not literally, mind you, but figuratively. Her mind sought to acquire some peace, peace she knew she must seek alone.
For she was alone, in all sense of the word except the physical. Juandissimo slept next to her, unencumbered by painful revelations. She hadn't bothered to tell him anything of today (fortunately for her, Juan was at Fairy World when she returned and she could safely store the wand). Instead, all her actions weighed down up on her horribly and she was unable to sleep.
Sighing heavily, Wand decided to try to fathom her so-called inexplicable attraction to the whiny green haired fairy whose name continued to evade her. She was going to Dimmsdale.
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(Timmy Turner's house, Timmy's room, 4:50 p.m. PST)
"So, uh, what do you wanna do?" Cosmo asked, now paying exquisite (and, at times, excruciating) attention to his godson. After their lunch (Timmy hadn't eaten much and Cosmo, disguised as a human, had to pester him to at least gnaw on his grilled cheese sandwich before Cosmo devoured it), Timmy was listless, wandering the streets. Apparently, he'd never figured on doing much of anything today- death tends to be rather final.
"Why did you save me?" Timmy asked and flung him on the bed. "You didn't seem to care before."
"Yeah, I did-" But he was cut off mid-sentence.
"The Other tried to kill him, didn't he?" Sitting up, Timmy folded his arms across his chest and smirked. Lorenzo had quite a way with words. And knives, and dark magic, and a little of necromancy…
Finding no suitable reply, Cosmo floated over and slung an arm about his shoulders. Wow, he'd never realized how emaciated Timmy had become. He hadn't regained the weight lost due to Lorenzo and had continuously lost since. All the kid was now was practically skin and bones.
"You look like the mummy you were on Halloween when you were and you wished 'everything was real and scary' and it happened and-"
Perhaps avoiding another grammatical atrocity, Timmy shrugged off Cosmo's proffered arm and stood by the window. Something black kept fluttering by, trying to notice but not be noticed. An odd sensation told him this was Wanda and he longed to talk to her. Even if Cosmo couldn't seem to reach her, perhaps he stood a chance. (And pigs will fly- keep dreaming, Timmy).
Abruptly, Timmy let out a shaky laugh and Cosmo, poofing by his side, stared at him in bewilderment. What was so funny? Was there something he was missing?
"I can finally empathize with Crocker. I don't remember the last time I was happy."
Cosmo bit his lower lip and threw himself atop Timmy. Now that he realized how painful the last few months were for his godson and the nature of his comments, it stung him to think he would consider something like that. Even if it meant holding him about the midsection until he turned eighteen, Cosmo would not let Timmy get into a situation like that again. He was his godfather, dammit, and he'd shirked his duties.
"I thought that if I had my parents back, I'd be happy. Maybe that was just Lorenzo wanted me to think. I don't know. All I know is, courtesy of the What-If Spell, it never would have worked anyway. It just made you guys hate me."
"We don't hate you!" Cosmo blubbered somewhere in Timmy's scarcely present stomach. Hmm, he hadn't noticed that, while he grew, Cosmo remained the same. He was already a few inches taller than the fairy, how tall would he be when he was eighteen? (Presuming, of course, he lived to be that age which was always a gamble with The Other around).
Timmy bit back the obvious retort "Wanda hates me, now", and rolled his eyes. Typical- Cosmo could whine and wail all he wanted but Timmy had to keep it all bottled up inside. He couldn't take it anymore and all the feelings, thoughts, and pain tumbled out of him like an unfettered dam.
"Yeah, you did. The only person who ever liked me then was Lorenzo because I was his little servant boy. I did all his dirty work. I let him do anything he wanted to me…" He broke off with a muffled sob. Although he really wanted to tell Cosmo everything, it was far too painful and besides, this was Cosmo he was talking about. Cosmo had the maturity of a four year old.
The green haired fairy, now acutely aware of his godson's moods, hugged him tighter, feeling his bones as he did. Okay, so he wasn't as smart as his wife or, ¾ of the time, capable of handling anything whatsoever. But he would strive to focus on him because he felt he needed this more than he needed to name and chase after a new pet.
"Go ahead," Cosmo said, no trace of humor in his voice. Yes, he was disturbed by that too.
"What?" Timmy choked in surprise. "You actually care? You…you'll pay attention to me? You'll listen?"
Realizing yet again that any spoken reply would ruin the mood, he merely nodded as his godson bore his burden and quite a burden it was, too. He didn't see how Timmy could handle his past so adeptly (he'd forgotten about the suicide attempt and the clouding of his mind while he was under Lorenzo's roof).
"I guess I'll never know why I agreed to the 'deal'. I was so desperate to have my parents back that I wanted everything he said to be true. You guys were so deadset against them (now I know why…). I wanted to prove you wrong. I guess I wanted to justify everything my parents put me through.
"Part of me didn't take Lorenzo seriously. When I could think for myself, in the beginning, he made it sound so reasonable, like I wasn't training to kill you guys-" (Cosmo shuddered in horror)- "just 'amend some vast injustice'. The scary thing was, I believed him, hook, line, and sinker.
"I don't know exactly when I stopped thinking for myself and Lorenzo did it for me. He dictated my every move and I only had a vague sense of what I was doing, mostly poisoned by his ideas. I could feel myself grow colder and colder, pushing you guys away and striking out at Wanda. To him, she was this horrible 'frach', never to be trusted or loved.
"And, god, how he hated Tootie. He'd tell me every night how he'd kill her, slowly and painfully and a different way each time. But what he said wasn't nearly as bad as what he did…" Timmy broke off at the point he was most anxious about and he glanced down at Cosmo, bawling.
"Go ahead," Cosmo murmured, barely audible. He stretched a little to caress Timmy's cheek and then relaxed, laying his head on Timmy's chest. Unfortunately, this reminded the pre-teen of Lorenzo's 'nightly activities' and he froze.
Shaking his head and recalling Lorenzo wrapping his arms about him just as Cosmo had and laying his head on his chest (he did this nearly every night), Timmy pulled himself out of his godfather's grasp and threw himself back on the bed. He could feel Cosmo's hurt gaze on him. Still, even though he knew it was unduly cruel to do this to him and he didn't know why he was doing it, the bit of strife he was suffering right now was nothing compared to Timmy's agony.
Burying his head in the pillow, he sobbed brokenly, shoulders shaking violently. Cosmo didn't dare approach him- he was too scared and stunned.
"He'd…he'd…at night…he'd do things to me. He…he called them my rewards…all the Timmy you can fuck…He even made a game out of it, seeing how many times he could do it in one night and then trying to beat that record…"
Cosmo blinked, transfixed by the horror. He still floated by the window, but his eyes were rooted to Timmy. Had he swiveled his head, he'd have seen Wanda, fingers pressed to the window and looking pained.
"And…if I was 'bad', it'd be so much worse…" A howl of misery arose and he was unable to speak. Cosmo swallowed hard and cautiously made his way to him. He wasn't sure how much Timmy would let him do.
"Can, can I touch you?" Gingerly, since the boy didn't respond, Cosmo placed a hand on his shoulders. This touch was acceptable and he sighed, relieved. Poor Cosmo was too naïve to recognize the difference between a hug and placing your head on somebody's chest, something that might, given someone with Timmy's recent history, be construed as sexual.
Turning his tear streaked face so he could gaze at Cosmo, the corners of his lips picked up. However, upon realizing the burning urgency of these particular memories, they fell again and he moaned. I have to tell him, I have to tell someone.
"He'd…he'd…force me to give him head…That's not even the worst part…I had to do all these twisted things and…and…at times, fuck him…"
Cosmo, sobbing so hard he couldn't see straight, flung himself on Timmy's back and held him tightly. Timmy was shaking so badly, Cosmo was afraid he was afraid he was having some sort of seizure. God, he wished, they both wished, Wanda was here to make things better.
There was a loud bang and Timmy rolled over, correcting Cosmo as he did so to keep from sitting on him. (Cosmo was, after all, beneath him now). What on earth could that have been?
Wanda, like a deer caught in the headlights, stood on the tree branch and tears cascaded down her face. (She'd heard every word Timmy said). Instead of the tears leaving trails, it restored some of her skin to normal. Her heart went out to this Timmy, who rang some distant bells.
"Wanda?" Timmy whispered. She looked so different-this was the first time he'd seen her up close since she'd been kidnapped and it shocked him. She was nearly jet black except for the pink patches of skin and spare bits of pink hair her tears had touched. Even with the change, she felt like Wanda to him, it was hard to explain.
Cosmo waved his wand and the window opened. Wanda tensed, ready to poof off. She knew she should have taken greater precautions but secretly, she'd wanted to be discovered. This same part of her desiring to be caught also wanted to comfort Timmy and hold him close to her.
But where had these feelings come from? Surely she hadn't possessed them prior to seeing him and she couldn't recall ever seeing him in her life. If that was so, why was she expecting to float off this branch and over to him?
Wait- float? She didn't have wings anymore. If she went any further on the tree limb, she'd plummet. Why weren't her legs comprehending this?
"Wanda!" Cosmo screamed and quickly shot out of the room to catch her. He was just in the nick of time, too- a few more seconds and she would have broken something. That marked a first, Cosmo rarely rescued his wife from anything, much less physical harm.
Where are her wings? What happened to her? Ugh, if I were Cosmo, I'd watch out. Fairies don't turn black for no reason.
Like before, Wanda delighted in her skin touching his. A tingle ran up and down her arms and it was like nothing she'd encountered before. She wanted to taste him, this forbidden fruit, one more time.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him for a ravenous kiss Cosmo eagerly returned. Pleasant sparks flew and she shifted her arms from his neck to his waist to minimize the space between them. She was losing her sanity to him but she didn't care. Anything was losing if it meant gaining him.
What are you doing?! Juandissimo screamed, rubbing her mind raw because he'd fabricated a bond in order to communicate with her. If it weren't for the sheer rapture of Cosmo's lips on hers and his touch, she'd scream from Juan's abuse of telepathy. For instance, he was trying to see exactly what she'd done by pillaging her mind.
Get the hell out of my wife's head! Cosmo retorted, able to hear Juandissimo because of his link with her. Unfortunately for her, that mean she acted as liaison and they screamed at each other through her. Nevertheless, she really didn't understand how they knew each other because she hardly knew the green fairy herself.
Why don't you get out of my wife's head? Juan countered, bristling.
If she's your wife, why is she holding onto me and making out with me? Cosmo sent and pressed her closer to him. He could feel the stirrings of a heartbeat beneath his own.
Unfamiliar with telepathy, Juan accidentally sent a private thought. Slut. Why couldn't she have been content with just me?
However, before Cosmo could sufficiently curse him out, Wanda was transported from his arms to Marseilles. No, he'd been so close! Damn Juandissimo! Already his arms felt so empty…
"Wanda!" Cosmo screamed and several birds took flight in protest. Apparently, living near Vicky or Timmy's house was an occupational hazard for birds.
Sinking slowly to the ground, Cosmo began to cry anew for his loss. For a few blissful moments, Wanda had been his again. He'd held in his arms and everything was right in the world. Then, of course, he had to steal her away again!
"Wanda…" He whimpered, clutching the hard ground and its few stalks mournfully. "Wanda…"
Standing by the window and watching him, Timmy muttered, "Nice of you to drop by, Wanda. Always a pleasure."
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(A chateau in Marseilles, 2:45 a.m.)
Wanda glared hatefully at Juandissimo. She could still feel Cosmo's lips on hers and his taste, a little like cheese. How dare he steal her away from him! Didn't he want her to be happy?
Juandissimo slammed his fist into night table- he was unsure who he was more infuriated with. For one, he was angry at Cosmo (first for existing), for eliciting such a strong reaction in her and then making out with her. However, Wanda too shared the blame- she'd initiated the kiss and appeared to be falling for him all over again. Goddammit- maybe he should have listened to Lorenzo and just killed Cosmo. That would certainly have solved his dilemma.
Finally, though, he remember something and yanked her by the wrist, poofing them both to a long forgotten tree by the river. Wanda bit back a moan- how had he learned about the pictures? No! She needed them, like she needed that green haired fairy's lips on hers, his hands on her back, him melting into her…
Juandissimo stared into her face, troubled by what he saw. Of course he was no fool, he was well acquainted with that look. Many of his customers wore that look upon being serviced by him, however it was him they were fantasizing about. Wanda, obviously, wasn't.
Shoving himself as harshly as possible into her mind room, Juan stumbled upon an unpleasant scene. Wanda was imagining Cosmo slowly undressing her (her mental projection, oddly enough, was exactly as she was before he'd kidnapped her). She was elated as she too slowly undressed him, tantalizing him in a bizarre but rather artistic dance of sex.
"Enough!" Juan screamed and the fantasy Cosmo as well as her projection vanished. She reappeared in her current form and folded her arms across her chest. Anger emanated from her narrowed eyes.
"Do you enjoy making me miserable? Does it comfort you to separate me from someone who might love me more than himself? Are you happy now? Are you, you selfish, conceited prig? Are you?" Wanda taunted and threw a mental book at him.
"I'll be happy soon, never fear." With a bright purple flash, he was gone and Wanda regained consciousness1. Still, his words made her ponder. What was he going to do with her pictures? Unless…
Now that both were conscious, Juan pointed Cosmo's wand, something he was holding so tightly he was precariously close to breaking it (another item he'd discovered while 'rummaging' her mind) and the shoebox floated up and into his waiting arms. He scowled, his contempt for its contents evident. Well, at least they would be downstream soon.
Smirking, he threw the box up and it splashed down into the rapidly rolling river. Good riddance to bad rubbish- perhaps now she'd stop soul searching and cease seeking Cosmo. Nevertheless, he lamented the many flaws in his plan.
For example, they should have gone to Spain and not Marseilles. However Marseilles was romantic and Spain far too predictable. If only he'd know she and Cosmo had had a godchild move here from the States.
Another thing- he should have created a place for Cosmo in Wanda's memories. That way, when she did remember him, she'd think he was dead or otherwise incapacitated. Then she wouldn't have sought him out at all.
But none of this mattered anymore. By casting these incriminating photos into the water, he was purging her of her true history and of Cosmo again. Cosmo just wouldn't go away, would he? No matter how hard he tried to get her to forget him, part of her held to him so strongly he couldn't shake it. She still loved him, even if she couldn't remember him. At any rate, Wanda wasn't likely to plunge into the river to fetch the shots, was she?
She'd watched him throw the box with all his might into the river. Her history was sinking to its depths and she couldn't stand it. Even if it didn't feel like the one she remembered, she somehow felt it was the real past. She had to get them back, no matter what and she dove headlong into the river.
All the pictures, upon reaching the water, soaked thoroughly and disintegrated. However, one remained, perfectly intact despite the damaging water, thanks to a little foresight on Wanda's part. It showed Cosmo wrapping his arms firmly about her waist and kissing her on the cheek while she laughed. Recovering it, she shoved it into her pants' right front pocket.
Just as she reached the side, she strained to pull herself ashore with no help from her "husband". Instead, he glowered at her and snapped Cosmo's wand in half, relishing the feel of it breaking and thinking of doing the same to Cosmo's neck. Both ends sailed through the air and splashed into the river, far from her. There was a sense of cool, collected anger in the rigidity of his shoulders and he struggled against an eruption of his seldom seen but powerful temper.
"If you ever seen this buffoon again," Juan threatened, watching Wanda gasp and arrive on dry land, "I'll kill him."
Wanda, who wasn't expecting such a dire consequence, gaped at him for a few seconds before retorting. Her hands were balled in fists and she yearned to make him endure the anguish she had when she was cruelly ripped from Cosmo's grasp. God, she'd make him pay. Images of his head skewered and on a pike filled her head and she smirked happily.
"If you want to kill him, you'll have to do it through me," she said coldly. "And you won't keep me from seeing him. If you don't like, tough shit. I love him."
With that, she kneed him in the groin and vanished. Her point was made- the Devil himself couldn't keep her from Cosmo. More would have to be done, like spasms…
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(Vicky's basement, 11:30 p.m. PST)
A lot of pillows were acquiring holes. Mark had noticed this as of late but kept mum. If Vicky didn't wish to discuss why she mutilated the cotton comforters (he was growing accustomed to human life), then it wasn't his place to ask.
"Dearest Vicky, isn't it customary for two to play ping-pong?" Mark inquired innocently as she smashed the small, plastic ball repeatedly into the wall. Every time it rebounded, she'd smack it even harder back. At the rate she was going, it'd soon return at such a velocity she'd either have to prepare her paddle to be shattered or duck for cover.
He approached the table cautiously and sighed. Perhaps it wasn't his place to ask, but Vicky's behavior concerned him. She seemed very upset over something and he worried it was him. He had, after all, barged in and interrupted her life. Perhaps she didn't want him there and didn't know how to express herself. Perhaps she found him repulsive. (But how could that be when he was human, her species?)
Dropping the formalities, Mark said plainly, "What's wrong? You've barely said a word to me in the past months and you're evasive in telepathy too. Not to mention all the pillows and cushions are full of holes. Is it me?"
Vicky shook her head and then gasped. Mark barely had time to recognize the item hurtling towards his forehead before she threw herself atop him. The ball crashed into the wall on the opposite side but his attention wasn't focused there.
Her warm body was directly atop his and a blush spread across her face. It was him, but not in the way he'd anticipated. The reason she'd punched all those pillows, abused the various electronics, and stayed so silent was she was frustrated. She liked him but didn't know how to say so or else was unable to confront him.
"I'm going to get up," Vicky whispered. "Before we do something…" Not that I don't want you to do anything. I really, really do. I want you to make love to me and make me scream your name. I want you to make me forget The Other ever existed. I want you inside me.
"That's pretty specific," Mark said with a laugh. "Want a cherry on top or will I suffice?"
Vicky went scarlet and began to rise. However, Mark, figuring as much, grabbed her wrist and gently drew her to him. She gazed back at him, eyes wide and full of terror.
I won't hurt you. If I were going to, I would have done so already, wouldn't I? I know you're vulnerable because of The Other, but I'd sooner die than do what he did to you. I love you, Vicky.
I think I love you too, Vicky sent, again accidentally. Oh, God, what am I doing? Why am I saying all this?
Tenderly placing her into a sitting position and staring straight into her eyes, Mark said, slowly and succinctly, everything she needed to hear. Of course, it was the truth, he communicated in it telepathy as well to ensure she understood this. She needed to trust him.
You're saying this because you think this. You've kept them bottled up for so long, your subconscious took over for you and forced you to find someway to express them. You're scared because of Lorenzo did to you and you think, because I'm a guy, that I'll take from you as well.
This isn't true. Lorenzo is no man, he is a beast, slave to his passions. He could never love you, though he might pretend to try.
There is a difference between making love and being raped. Making love is consensual and a beautiful thing. It happens when two people love each other and want to show themselves the magnitude of their devotion. However, rape is painful, forceful sex that brings only brief satisfaction for one person. I want to make love to you and I think you want me to, but I will wait until you're ready.
I guess the question now becomes- are you ready? You're so vulnerable right now and I may bring back memories best left forgotten. Do you love me enough to try?
Vicky stared, mouth agape. Mark took her hand and held it, awaiting her answer. The loudest thing in the room was the clock, for both living occupants held their breath.
Softly, she murmured, "Yes. Take me."
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(Fairy World, war preparation room, 4:00 a.m. EST)
Frank stifled a yawn and stretched. It was way too early in the morning to contemplate anti-fairies, but they had no choice. All their leads were turning up dry, their videos were vanishing even under the closest surveillance, and the fairies assigned to sentry duty never returned. They needed answers and they needed them now. There was only option left to them, but, in Frank's opinion, it was far too risky.
"Mind searches are illegal!" Frank screeched down the table at a pretty, petite, auburn fairy. "The last fairy to undergo one went into epileptic shock! Who knows how it could affect a human boy!"
"We have no choice, puny fairy. Every single record of this anti-fairy is gone. The only person who knows how to defeat him is his sire and he is, yes, a human boy. I know it's illegal, I made that law myself. But I will lift it this once and only this once," Jorgen snapped, also exhausted by hiding it remarkably well. Most fairies assumed he was acting his normal self.
"But sir," Frank protested, "he could die!"
"Well, then," Jorgen said with a nasty smile, "I guess you'd better not let that happen. Meeting adjourned."
As the rest filed out, Frank stared at the mahogany table. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
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(Lorenzo DeMedici's fabulous mansion, library, 1:25 a.m. PST)
We'll choke the rivers with their dead. What an apt expression, considering the slaughter of Fairy World. Ah, what a bloodbath. I wonder if the frach2 will cry when their husbands are found in pieces and drained of their magic. Fear the anti-fairy, bitches and gentleman!
What guards, though. They can scarcely guard their wands, much less precious documents. Incompetence comes in more forms than a green haired idiot.
Speaking of 'precious documents', how dare they launch an investigation against me! I'll massacre every last one of them! Foolish fairies- they shall ne'er live to see the day when the sun went away. Darkness falls as the curtain calls. End Act 3, Part One.
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1When people go to visit others in mind rooms, they're unconscious. I should have clarified this before. It is impossible to have a mind projection and still function outside. So, in all scenes prior to, in, and post this chapter using mind rooms, it is presumed they're unconscious. There are a few exceptions to the rule, like sex, but, for the most part, this is true.
2Just a little bit of mindless trivia- the plural of frach is frach. Frach is a word like "fish", the plural of it is the same as the singular.