Author's Note: I hope doesn't screw up my carefully placed symbols. If it does, well, reader, you've been forewarned.
Disclaimer: Ah, the standard. If I owned FOP, I wouldn't be so violent, would I? Well, of course I would! But Nick wouldn't air it.
Chapter Eleven: Couple Therapy
(Timmy Turner's room, 6:50 a.m. PST)
"I can't believe it's you! Well, of course I know it's you, but you're here! Here!" Timmy gushed to an oblivious Tootie. (She was still dead to the world). His heart raced just thinking about it.
"I thought something happened to you! God, I was so worried! But now you're back and you won't ever leave me again."
At these words, Tootie stirred, blinking back tears. Pain threatened to suffocate her, but she had to pretend to be happy for him. After all, he was miserable enough for both of them.
"Hey," Tootie said softly, grimacing because of the whip marks. Plastering a humungous fake smile on, she forced herself to stop projecting just in case he caught onto something. She wanted her brief homecoming to be enjoyable for him, even if it wasn't for her.
"Were you crying?" Sitting up, he cradled her, tenderly stroking her face. A pleasurable shiver ran down his spine, and his heart leapt. She was finally back, he could finally hold her. Oh, how he'd missed her!
"No, what makes you think that?" Tootie said, strained. If he figured out why she was so dejected, he might be able to pry more than she was permitted to tell. So, as much as she'd love to unburden herself, she couldn't. She had to lie to him every minute, every second of every day she was here, so goddamn Fairy World wouldn't throw a hissy fit. After all, it wouldn't do to upset those who'd just so recently vied with Vicky for the place of best way to ruin a life.
"There are trails of tears on your face," Timmy murmured, tracing them with his finger. He didn't even notice that her head was on his chest, all he cared about was her presence, her touch, her feel, her smell. It all filled him with calm, calm he hadn't experienced for quite some time.
At least it's not that bad yet. When he starts asking where I was and how I got those marks, I'm dead. What am I supposed to say to that?
"Those were, uh, tears of happiness!" Tootie lied, feeling tears rise to the surface yet again. When she was free of the burden of a mission, Lorelei's death weighed down on her like a sack of bricks. Compile to that the guilt of deceiving him and she just wished she could bury her head in his chest and bawl.
"Don't lie to me. Where were you for the past three months? Where did you get those marks? What's going on, Tootie? Who's Lorelei? Why did you say you killed someone?" Timmy snapped, the questions coming rapid-fire. Before she could even open her mouth for another lie, more came. Suddenly, he couldn't stand holding her, her touch burned him. He jumped up, shoving her off.
"You just left me here! I could have died, dammit! Don't you care about me? I needed you and you just vanished on me!
"Do you know what my life's been like? It's been hell! What gives you the right to do this to me? What gives you the right to treat me like shit?"
"What gives you the right to pass judgment on me like this? Don't you think I wanted to be there for you? Don't you think it tore me apart that I couldn't? I wish I could have been there!" Tootie sobbed, unable to contain her tears in the face of all these accusations.
Timmy froze, indecisive. It was Cal's murder all over again, and he was just listening for someone to tell him what to do. Should he listen to his instinct and stop, at least for the moment? Should he carry on, heedless of her feelings?
"God, you have no idea what it's been like. None at all. I had to…I had to…"
{Stop there.} Cal sent, taking Tootie aback. {If you go further, you'll be in greater trouble than you ever dreamed possible.}
What are you doing in my head? Why can't you leave me alone? I can't stand any more of this. I need to vent but I can't. Why? What did I do to deserve this?
"You had to what?" Timmy said coldly. "What's more important than your true love attempting suicide because you weren't there? Tell me, I'm all ears."
Instead of replying and perhaps betraying herself, Tootie wailed, flinging herself at him. Timmy fell over, intuitively holding her as she did so. All he could hear was muffled sobs; he caressed her back, quivering.
"What the hell happened to you?" Timmy whispered, kissing the top of her head. For the moment, all his frustration faded. He couldn't stay mad at her while she was howling in misery.
They remained silent for a moment, Tootie unconsciously projecting. Although he didn't catch the events surrounding her emotions, he got a blast of everything she was feeling. No wonder she was so miserable; his head reeled from it all.
Cosmo, floating over them but lost in the past, transformed into one animal after another. No matter how many times he did, there was no pink one to accompany him. Still, he behaved as though there were. The thought depressed him almost as much as Tootie's actions.
"Are you all right?" Timmy murmured, stroking her hair. For now, it seemed as though he'd pacified her. He couldn't recall what had made her react like this in the first place; he was so concerned about her.
((What's the point of lying to you?)) Tootie sent, lifting her tear streaked face. ((But I still can't tell you the truth!))
((The truth about what?)) Timmy replied, lovingly cupping her chin in his palm. Drawing her closer to him and shifting position so he could reach, he kissed her, this time while she was awake.
To avoid this again, she kissed him back passionately, drawing her arms around his neck. All she had to do was keep her mind clear. That was easy, right? No problem…
((You know you can still talk to me in telepathy, right? Even though we're kissing?))
How much can I tell him? Tootie thought, knowing Cal would reply.
{Ooh! Is he your boyfriend? He's cute! But what's with the silly pink hat? And he's starved.} Daniela sent shyly. (Barely perceptible, she floated as a ghost beside her. Timmy didn't notice).
Tootie thanked her lucky stars Timmy couldn't hear his girlfriend had recently become a schizoid. She had enough to deal with without him eavesdropping on two dead fairies. Besides, they might inadvertently reveal something too. Jeez, she hadn't thought her trip home would be fraught with such concealment.
{I'm checking…I think you can tell him it's for Fairy World, but little else. You can't give him any details at all.} Cal, now a specter like his girlfriend, was also just out of the range of sight for Timmy.
Under penalty of what?
{You don't want to know.}
Fine. I'm sick of the secrecy shit, but you know what? I'm just going to act like I'm happy. Because no one seems to care if I'm not!
{That isn't true!} Cal protested. {I care.}
Fuck off, Cal. You got me into this mess.
{It's hardly my fault!}
You're right. It's my fault for getting involved with Timmy at all. If I'd just fell in love with someone else, I'd be happy right now. I wouldn't have to deal with-
{Your parents would still be dead. No matter what, you'd be involved.}
Not if Vicky wasn't born!
{I'm not in the mood for It's a Wonderful Life. I know how much this hurts you; I am in your mind. I wish I could help you but I can't. The least you can do is stop blaming me!}
You're right…But I wish I could still tell him more than that.
{Well, at least he has someone to blame now.} With that, both vanished.
Yeah.
"Tootie?" Timmy murmured, afraid to ruin the moment by raising his voice. (Eventually, they'd required oxygen). He wanted to know so many things, all at once. Perhaps he could try telepathy, it wasn't possible to lie there, was it? No, of course not.
Again, she'd laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It pacified her yet produced thoughts of a sexual nature. While she preferred them to the other ideas troubling her, she was only twelve. She barely knew her body, why would she want to do something she might regret and ruin her life (even more so than it already was)?
"Timmy…" Tootie whispered. "My Timmy…I love you…"
"I love you too…"
There's a 'but' coming along, I can feel it. Maybe he'll just forget about-Oh, shit! Why I did say "my"? I hope he doesn't notice.
"Why did you say 'my'?" Timmy asked, sitting up. Every muscle tightened, he was returning to his previous rant. Damn, why couldn't he just construe 'my' to indicate possession?
"Uh, I said it because you're mine," Tootie said, far too quickly. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her and stood apart, glancing out the window. (Cosmo had returned to the tree house and now believed he was in the disco era).
"No, you said it as though there were more of me. That isn't possible. You're lying to me.
Where were you for three months? Where did you get those marks? What the hell is going on?!"
"Where was I?" Tootie retorted. "I'll tell you where I was! In hell. Oh, you think you have it bad, let me tell you something.
"Hell is a world without you. Hell is never knowing if you're going to return home. Hell is living every moment afraid you're going to die and I'm not going to be there for you.
"Timmy Turner, this is hell. I can't tell you where I was for three months, two days to me. I can't tell you where I'm going to be two days from now-"
"What the hell do you mean, 'two days from now'? You're not going anywhere!" Timmy snapped desperately. Turning away from the window, Tootie spotted a few errant tears.
"I…I have to. It's not my choice, it's Fairy World's. They…they tell me what to do and I do it. I'm their little Nazi." And that's exactly how I feel about it. I kill who they tell me to kill, do what they tell me to do, live how they want me to, and I'll die how they want me. I have no free will at all.
Stunned at this proclamation, Timmy decided to disbelieve it. And, for the remainder of her time home, would continue to badger her about her whereabouts, what she was doing while she was there, and where the marks came from. Perhaps, one of these days, he'd learn- never pester someone precariously close to a mental breakdown.
(Vicky's basement, 7:13 a.m. PST)
"We're going out." Throwing on some clothing, Mark dressed quickly and glanced at his lover. Of course, he hadn't expected an enthusiastic reply, but he'd at least figured she'd refrain from scathing glares. He was right, she needed to get the hell out of this place.
From what he could establish, Vicky had penned herself up in here for over six months, barely straying more than ten paces from the house. He knew what she feared- Lorenzo. Well, with him here, she'd be safe. He'd lay his life on the line for her.
Snatching the keys to his vehicle (which converted itself to whatever was convenient for him), Mark, meeting Vicky's glare without winching, leaned on the kitchen counter. No matter how long it took her to realize this was good for her, he'd wait. After all, he'd waited two years to see her again; what were a few hours to him? And she really had to get out of there, before she decided to raise a family in the basement.
"You can go out," Vicky said accusingly. "I'll stay here." Where I'm safe from The Other. Besides, what's so great about the outside? It's just nature.
"I'm not leaving without you," Mark said sternly, "even if I have to clothe you myself."
"Like a baby?" Vicky retorted, folding her arms across her bare chest. While part of her was humbled by his devotion, another was irritated. How dare he try this! If he really knew what was best for her, then he'd know she was better off here, in a world she could control. She didn't need the rest of the world, either. Her world was here.
"Like a baby," Mark repeated with the patience of a saint. In a sense, she was like an infant- she was terrified of new things and longed to cling to her security blanket. While he didn't mind filling this role, he knew she had to learn how to deal with people again. (And he really wasn't people, anyway).
"I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I'm not biting. What the hell is out there that I can't get here free, safe? I can live here and-"
"Can you do everything here?" Mark replied, keeping his tone neutral.
"Of course!" Vicky snapped, bewildered. "What can't I do here?"
"Can you see the sun through the window? Can you feel the caress of the wind on your face? Can you taste the snow on your tongue? Can you smell the sweet scent of rain? You're so isolated in your little world of yours, you can't remember what it's like to watch the leaves change, or for the snow to fall. Do you even remember what nature is?
"No more delaying. We're going out, even if it means I have to force you up the stairs and out the door."
"Go ahead," Vicky spat, not expecting him to follow through on that threat. She commanded a certain amount of respect. No one was going to dress her, drag her up the stairs, or anything of that sort in her house.
No one except Mark.
(Tootie's room, 7:30 a.m. PST)
"Oh, god, I'm going to be late! This is the first time I've been to school in three months (apparently) and I'm going to be late!" Tootie, throwing various items in her bag while Cal attempted to pacify her, scowled.
"And that means I have to deal with-"
"Oh, you're coming to school?" Timmy said coldly, standing in the doorway. Slung over his shoulder casually was his own pink packed bag, resplendent with homework he had yet to finish.
"What do you mean? Of course I'm coming to school! If only I could find my damn Chemistry book…" Still strewing about her clothing, manga, and a Butch Hartman autographed picture, Tootie was only half listening so she missed the hostility in his voice.
"I thought you were going to ditch school, tell no one, and then just make me worry like you did for the past three months. Then you'd turn up at home with whip marks and you won't explain those either, but you'll give a lame excuse like Fairy World made you do it."
Quivering with rage at the accusation, Tootie finally resigned herself to the fact she might have left her Chem book at the library the day she left. She crammed three months worth of homework in her page (thanks to Cal, who could grant small favors for her if she didn't ask too much and held the transistor when she made the wish) and pivoted. Anger emanated from her petite frame.
"Why don't you just shut up. That isn't a question, that's a suggestion." I thought my trip home was going to be happy. I thought Timmy would never stop holding me, and never once did I think he was going to make me feel worse than I already do.
"How about this? I'll shut up when you tell me where you were all that time? And, while you're at it, tell me where you got those marks. Go ahead, take all the time you need. After all, I've been waiting for three months for answers."
Striding into the room, Timmy took no notice of the chaos, instead, he narrowed the distance between them so much they were nose to nose. He could see tears swimming in her eyes, but the part of him that cared was temporarily out of commission. The most important thing to him was her responses, not empathy.
"I can't tell you!" Tootie exploded, blinking back tears. "Why can't you just leave me alone?!"
"Because," Timmy snapped, catching her elbow and yanking her as close as possible to him, "I want to know. Now."
Hmm, a scrutinize of her face indicated lines of worry, poor sleeping habits (accrued through the time before and after), and fear. She was hiding something, he knew it. He wouldn't rest until he found out what it was.
"I wish I could tell you…" Tootie whispered, shifting her gaze to the floor. Timmy, placing his hands on either side of her head, forced her to look into his eyes. From the depths of them, he saw great sorrow.
"Then why can't you?" Cupping the small of her neck, Timmy kissed her tenderly. Her heartbeat tripled; to try to add to the affection (perhaps that's all she needed), he wrapped his arms around her waist, eliminating any space between them.
((Stop. You're doing this so I'll talk and I told you, I can't!)) Her message hadn't come a minute too soon. Timmy, making out wildly with her, was about to fall atop the bed (and her).
Breaking the kiss, furious, Timmy snapped, "Why the hell not? I almost killed myself because you weren't there!"
"I'm sorry, dammit!" Shoving him off her, she snatched her bag and ran out the door. Timmy followed suit, any angrier and he would have breathed fire.
"Since when is saying you're sorry good enough justification for something? You just abandoned me and I'm supposed to say, 'I'm so glad you're back I don't care where the hell you went'?" Timmy retorted, wrapping his left arm around her waist and smelling her hair, which wasn't as pleasant as he'd thought. It smelled of death and blood.
Even though he was livid, he still couldn't keep his hands off her. It seemed no matter how angry he was, he still wanted her. After all, she had told him she was only returning briefly (not if he had something to do with it, of course).
"It'd be nice!" Tootie hissed, about to add something else when the two, walking down the stairs, halted.
"Well, well," Vicky said, Mark's arms wrapped about her for a different reason. He was afraid she'd bolt if he let go.
"Uh, hi, Vicky…" Tootie said sheepishly, failing to extract Timmy from her. To the contrary, he was nuzzling her neck. What a hypocrite.
"Is that all you're going to say to me?" Vicky snapped, shoving Mark off her. She marched up the stairs, and, prying Timmy off, glared at her little sister.
"I thought this might be your proper welcome." Drawing her hand back, she slapped her so hard Tootie spun backwards, landing undignified on the step. If Tootie thought she was angry with Timmy, this was nothing compared to Vicky's fury at her sister.
"Where the hell were you?" Vicky snapped, glowering at her. "No note, nothing! I thought something happened to you!"
"Yeah," Timmy chimed in. "You had us worried sick!"
Mark, feeling out of place, shuffled his feet and watched his lover extort her vengeance upon her sibling. He had nothing to do with this, nor did he wish to inflict any more suffering on her than she apparently had. Hmm, in retrospect, he probably should have exited through the basement entrance as opposed to through the house.
Fighting the howl of misery rising in her chest, Tootie merely shook her head at them. Outwardly, no signs of her pain showed, safe for one small detail- her knuckles were white. Otherwise, she was concealing her emotions pretty well.
"Come on, now you're surrounded. Spill," Timmy said cruelly, offering to help her to her feet. She declined with a glare.
"I told you and I'll tell you," Tootie said, shooting a nasty look at her sister, "I'm forbidden to say anything. I wish I could tell you-"
"Then I'll make you. Cosmo?" Timmy called, forgetting perhaps on purpose his godfather's state.
Cosmo didn't show, predictably. Growing desperate, Timmy proceeded to call him twenty times until Vicky, sick of it, slapped him too. She was irritated at the whole idea of leaving the house and this just compounded it.
"What the hell?" Timmy cried, hand on his wounded cheek. "Why are you slapping me? I didn't do anything!"
"Didn't you?" Vicky retorted, extremely high strung. "Can't you tell by now that your godfather isn't coming? He-"
"He lost his grip on reality! Are you happy now?" Timmy hissed, Tootie forgotten for now. This suited her perfectly- she picked herself up, shouldered her bag, and quietly snuck out the door.
"Well, I'm sorry that you can't have all your wishes granted-" Vicky snapped, fists balled.
"I'm sorry I have to deal with you," Timmy snapped scathingly, following Tootie out the door. They'd skipped breakfast (no time) and the bus was arriving. If he wanted to skip The Other's lecture, he had to leave now.
Stunned, the red head girl stood in the doorway, watching her little sister for the first time in three months saunter up to the bus. If she was going to speak with her, she'd better do it now, before she lost her chance. Besides, Mark had that funky transforming dealie, he could take her if need be.
"Tootie!" Vicky yelled, bolting out the door. But it was too late. By the time she reached her, she was already on board.
"Damn."
(On the bus, 7:45 a.m. PST)
At least if they were going to be late, they wouldn't be the only ones today. For some unfathomable reason, perhaps due to the antiquity of their buses, the engine had taken forever to turn over this morning. Therefore, it came a half hour late. Hmm, maybe they'd have a group lecture or something.
Tootie selected a seat in the back, her customary seat. She wanted to be alone. It was ironic- the first day back, all she wanted to do was avoid Timmy and his questions. Those painfully poignant questions, the ones she couldn't, for the live of her, answer.
"You're not getting away that easily," Timmy informed her, sitting next to her. Her face was pressed against the glass, so he couldn't see the tears streaming down her face nor the grimace of pain on her face. She was putting up a brave front, but the wounds she'd incurred caused her agony.
"Go away," she murmured, biting back the tremors threatening to quake her. Her shoulders shook with them. She didn't know what was worse- staying here with her vehemently seeking answers Timmy or putting her life on the line and never knowing if she was going to see him again.
"No." However, ere he had an opportunity to spin her away from the window, A.J. and Chester strolled down the aisle and spotted. Good, well at least he now had some more backup. Between them, they might be able to break her defenses.
"Tootie!" A.J. and Chester said in unison, sliding into the conveniently empty seat next to them.
"Where were you?!" A.J. asked, frowning. "It was as if you dropped off the face of the earth!"
"I wish I had," Tootie said dully.
A.J. uttered a soft 'huh'. In his stead, Chester resumed questioning, not deterred by Tootie's peculiar response. Besides, Timmy was pleading him with his eyes to try to get her to confess.
"We were worried," Chester said, acknowledging this was something Timmy wanted him to say. While he himself hadn't been worried, Timmy had been, at least, from what he could tell from afar. This was the first time in a while he too hadn't sought solitude.
"You and the rest of the world. Leave me alone!"
"What are you hiding?" A.J., recovering, queried. "Are you forbidden to tell us where you were because someone threatened you?"
"Yes, that's it," Tootie agreed hastily, maintaining her level tone despite the tears pouring down her face. All she really longed for was to do as she had a few moments ago- bury her head in Timmy's chest and sob. She couldn't hand all this!
Why did you have to send me home? Tootie moaned, her mental projection wailing. What's so great about being barraged with questions?
{Fairy World-} Cal sent, floating above again but still only visible to her. (Humans just don't look closely enough).
Fuck Fairy World! Let me guess, they wanted me to go home so they could plan a nice two-day vacation for themselves?
{Not quite. Look, this is the problem with government and armies. They often step on their foot soldiers. }
Are you saying they don't care if I live or die?
{Of course they do. But only if affects Timmy…}
What the hell! I'm only important if I keep Timmy from committing suicide? Thanks. Now I feel loved.
{Don't think about it like that. Preferably, you should refrain from thinking about missions while you're here. Try to enjoy yourself.}
Oh, that'll be easy when I'm being grilled. Why the hell couldn't they have given me a clever cover story at least?
{It's government. Ours is not to question, ours is to vote more often so incompetents run the world.}
I didn't think you guys voted.
{We don't. I was referring to the upcoming presidential election.} Smirking slightly, Cal quieted down, deciding to observe the action from her mind again.
Meanwhile, all three boys continued their onslaught. Finally, weary of pressing her face against the cold glass, she turned her head so all could see the tears. This halted two of the three, but not Timmy.
"I'm sorry…" A.J. murmured. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't make you."
"Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm just glad you're back," Chester added, shooting Timmy a dirty look. He knew that expression- the boy was up to no good. Why couldn't he just let the subject drop?
"Why are you crying? All you've done since you got home was cry. What the hell could have been that bad?" Timmy snapped, blind to Tootie's gasps of pain and sobs.
"Timmy, please…leave me alone…" Tootie whimpered, removing her backpack so she could clutch it to her chest.
"Yeah, dude, you're making her cry. Cut it out!" Chester reprimanded.
"Are you going to be okay?" A.J. inquired, offering her a tissue. His eyes narrowed- why did it appear as though she had a huge bloodstain on her shirt, as though she was bleeding from the abdomen and breast?
Suddenly, the bus lurched to a stop. Tootie, sighing in relief, shoved past Timmy, darting down the aisle. Tears streamed in her wake.
Unfortunately, since they were seated in the back and Tootie had squeezed her painful way through every person in front, they'd lost her. A.J. and Chester glared at the pink-hatted boy. Why did he persist in being so unduly cruel to her? All right, they understood he was her boyfriend, but what was so important? (Bare in mind they didn't know about the suicide attempt, Wanda's disappearance, and everything Lorenzo had done to him).
When the bus emptied out, Tootie was nowhere to be seen. Timmy thought he had a good idea where she'd gone, though. There was a copse of trees to the left of the school, and, in the seventy-degree winter they had now, a good place to seek solace.
Carefully treading the grass so as not to startle her, Timmy halted ten feet before her. For now, he should think out a plan of attack. Or, rather, he would have if he hadn't spotted something odd.
Floating next to her (as she sat in the grass under the tree), specters, were Cal and a female fairy he didn't recognize. Tootie's eyes were shut and she appeared to be conferring with them, only her mouth didn't move nor did theirs. If he had concentrated a little less on his fury and a little more on her when she spoke to them before in his presence, he would have noticed them.
"Tootie?" Timmy whispered, awe struck. In Tootie's hands was the transistor, flickering to a reel of film. He was too far away to make out the people on it, but it held some significance to her.
((I don't understand how it was right what I did.)) Tootie sent, sobbing unabated. ((She was a human, for the most part. She loved, she cared about her lover, she-))
Like the softest caress, Timmy heard, distantly, Cal reply (because she'd unwittingly opened herself up when she accidentally sent him that message), {She had to die, I'm sorry. If she hadn't died, then Timmy surely would have as well the rest. You had to do it.}
((Then why do I feel so rotten? How can you justify murder, Cal? Is there a nice way to put it? God, now I sound like Loreto, I mean, Lorelei, er, Lorenzo. Man, my head hurts! Why are there so many Lor names?))
"What the hell is going on?!" Timmy snapped, and the two fairy figments vanished again, leaving only her. Marching up to her, he yanked her up by the scruff of her neck.
"You killed someone?" Pulling up her shirt a little, he shook her. In the bright light of morning, however, her whip marks looked worse than before and he dropped her in surprise. Unfortunately, she didn't land gracefully, her legs folded beneath her when she hit.
Tootie, blanching, swooped down to retrieve the transistor, but Timmy was quicker. Ere it completely left her, a scene presented itself. An older version of Tootie impaling a girl that could have been her duplicate. What the hell?
"No!" She howled, fighting to rise and bolt, but her legs weren't cooperating. Instead, they opted to become jelly and she sank to the ground. By now, she was sobbing so hard she could no longer see and trembling violently.
No words would come to him, no complaints. Remorse filled him; he really had made her cry, hadn't he? For three months, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her and here he was, generating even more misery for her to wade through. He couldn't take it.
Sinking to the ground as well, he wrapped his arms around her, permitting her to wail against his chest. There they remained for a moment, heedless of the bell schedule. All there was and would be was them.
Stroking her hair, Timmy listened to her wail words, phrases that baffled him. It all was utter rubbish, ravings of a lunatic. Whatever's got her so worked up must've scrambled something in there. I mean, really, a world like that book? C'mon!
Finally, she froze, terrified she'd revealed too much. Pushing at his chest, she fled, arriving at her class just in time for the bell to ring. Timmy rose, alone and befuddled.
"What the hell is going on?!"
(The driveway, 8:40 a.m. PST)
Too bad he hadn't brought some sort of shield with him. He'd never suspected nearly this many punches to rain down upon him, nor this many threats. She hated him, she said, for forcing her to do this. She wanted him to know that.
Sighing heavily, Mark converted the spaceship to a motorcycle, a pleasant plain red one. Two helmets came equipped, both black. He removed one, crammed it down on her head, and hooked it up for her. Nothing she was going to do was voluntary.
Placing the second atop his own head, Mark hoisted her up off her feet and gently rested her on the seat. He then revved the engine once or twice, reveling in its power, and they took off.
The insults didn't cease. Despite the fact she was holding for dear life to him and her eyes were shut tight, Vicky continued to berate him. Partly for the thrill and partly to quiet her, he took a few tight turns and she squealed. Heh, that was better.
((I hate him. I can't believe he's doing this to me! Me! He said he loved me! Anyone who loved me wouldn't do this! He'd let me-)) Vicky accidentally sent.
((I'd let you do what? Live a sheltered life in the house? It's not healthy and you know it!))
They drove by the middle school where the only children outside were the ones with the misfortune to be late or who were in Gifoalski's first period, a frightening prospect. Unfortunately, those outside were former students and Vicky, with her eyes clamped shut, didn't notice this until she slammed her feet down on the brakes over Mark's and they nearly fell over. Grand, he had wanted to avoid incidents, not instigate them.
"Hey, look! It's Icky Vicky!" One of them, a small black boy with curly hair, a maroon t-shirt, and blue jeans, called.
"Icky with a Vicky!" His friend, a petite redhead with freckles and a sundress on, crooned.
"The supreme bitch of all that is!"
Soon the comments became impossible to discern the source- they came from everyone. Vicky, woozy from the ride, grimaced, clinging for the moment to Mark. He steadied her, caressing her cheek.
"What's the matter, Icky Vicky? Can't you fight us anymore? We thought you were the bitchiest bitch that ever lived. What, are you scared?" Soon, the children chanted this, storming the fence much to Gifoalski's chagrin. He faded into the shadows, preferring not to fight an angry mob.
((Let's get out of here. Now!)) Vicky sent urgently, her eyes wide and glued to the menaces that she used to menace.
((I can't. You're holding me so tightly; I can't breathe, much less put our motorcycle up.))
Realizing this but not caring in the slightest, Vicky clung to him (although she let up a tad so he could breathe). She didn't want to be out here, now he knew why. All this angry children…
"Aw, isn't that cute? Vicky's scared of us! Why, are we a bad date?" They taunted, Vicky growing pale.
"Or can't you get any dates any more?"
((I'm afraid you're going to have let go of me for a minute so we can get out of here.))
((All right…)) Releasing him reluctantly, Vicky bit her lip, watching the children storm up to her. Even though she knew she was in way over her head, she had to stay strong. They were afraid of her, weren't they? Couldn't she use that?
Or not. "Get her!" They charged, tackling her to the ground and pummeling her senseless. Vicky could barely get one child off before ten more took their place. It was a bloody massacre.
Cursing his luck, Mark placed the motorcycle back up and held out a phaser. One by one, he shocked them into retreat. Those still conscious flipped them the finger, indicating Vicky was going to get hers. The rest, well, that wasn't his problem.
"Dearest Vicky, are you all right?" Mark murmured, helping her to her feet. Two black eyes had surfaced, as well as a fat lip, and various bruises.
"I'm fine!" Vicky snapped, far from it. "I told you this was a horrible idea! But you had to go and haul me off, out of the house for what? To be mauled by some brats?!"
"My dearest Vicky, I'm sorry. I didn't intend to stop here, but if you hadn't slammed my foot down on the brake, we wouldn't have stopped," He reminded her gently.
"Well, how is that my fault?" Vicky snapped, glaring at him. "I couldn't see where we were going-"
"Because you had your eyes shut!" Mark retorted, losing his patience with her. Everything today had been one hell of a fight. And she couldn't admit when she was wrong, either.
"I told you I didn't want to come here! I wanted to stay in the house and-"
"And what? Become a hermit?"
"If you don't like it, you can leave me! Just abandon me like everyone else! I don't care; I don't need anyone but myself!" Scoffing, Vicky sauntered off, heedless of where she was going.
Stunned, Mark watched her until he suddenly recalled she was furious, alone, and vulnerable. Damn, how could he have been so stupid? And he didn't even know the lay out of the town…
(Lorenzo's office, 9:00 a.m. PST, [bored out of his mind]).
"Okay, I got it. Late, yeah. Whatever. Can we just skip the damn lecture?" Timmy muttered, propping his head up on his palm. He slumped in The Other's plush red chair, waiting for Lorenzo to shut up. The sooner he shut up, the sooner he could salvage what was left of first (if there was any left- he'd had to sneak in through the girls' bathroom window).
"Of course not. You were late and tardiness must be punished," Lorenzo drawled, shutting the door behind him. Did Timmy honestly expect to skip the speech? This was his love, how could he pass on a few minutes alone with him?
"Just punish me already and-" Timmy halted, memories of before flickering through his mind. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to suggest that, given their history. The door was shut and he wasn't terribly certain sound could travel through the walls.
"There's plenty of time for that," The Other said, a smile curling his lips. Sitting atop his desk, he peered down at his sire. Timmy shrank back inherently.
"You know, I have class-" Timmy began, praying Lorenzo would agree and forgo whatever he had in mind. Distant telepathy didn't bring Cosmo closer to him; in fact, Timmy wasn't sure Cosmo knew who he was anymore. The moments of lucidity were few and far between.
"I've taken the liberty of canceling your next three classes, right up to lunch. Come now, wouldn't you rather talk than sit through those boorish wastes of time?" Lorenzo smirked, restraining himself with great difficulty. Somehow, the same insane lustful part of him insisted that this talk would go better if Timmy was in his arms while he gave it. For Timmy's sake, he was striving to keep his hands to himself.
"Not really," Timmy said, looking anywhere but at him. Lorenzo, hopping off the table, placed his hands on either side of his head, forcing him to look into his eyes. Now he was kneeling before him, but fortunately keeping his touch chaste.
"You're still cutting yourself. When you do anything to yourself, either intentional or accidental, a mirror of it appears on me. You're just not doing it anywhere anyone might think to look."
Timmy began to refute this, but Lorenzo, with a great effort, wrenched his hands from his face as though removing the part of what he feared might permit him to speak more freely.
"Why does it matter to you? Because you'll die if I do? I think the world would be better off if-"
"The world would end if you killed yourself, Timmy. I'm not exaggerating, either. I've been, well, never you mind how I found out, but if you die, there will be-"
"Spare me the bullshit. No one will care if I die, only you and-"
((That's not true.))
((Are you listening to this or something? Why should you care about me, after you left me for three months without saying a word?))
((Please.)) Subconsciously relieving stress, Tootie inadvertently sent a recent memory of hers, a man resembling Crocker only better looking beating the living crap out of her. It stunned Timmy so much, he fell out of his chair. The emotions conveyed in there were so real, coupled with its transmission, told him must have actually happened.
"Timmy!" Leaning forward, Lorenzo caught him deftly, smoothing his hair back. Timmy, dazed, allowed him to hold him for a few seconds.
Predictably, the moment didn't last and, pushing at his chest, Timmy managed to escape for about five feet. The door was locked and no amount of ramming would open it. Of course now he had a headache to boot.
Amused, Lorenzo watched Timmy, despite a raging headache, continue to ram the door. He decided to make it easier- the next Timmy did so, he opened the door. Unfortunately, Timmy hadn't seen the door open and collided into the wall.
"Are you all right?" Lorenzo inquired, smirking. While he was concerned for Timmy's safety, a little knocking around every once and again couldn't harm him terribly, could it?
"I'm fine!" Timmy snapped, darting not towards his class but to Tootie's. He had to have a talk with her.
(Somewhere downtown, Dimmsdale, 9:38 a.m. PST)
If you don't like it, you can leave me! Just abandon me like everyone else! I don't care; I don't need anyone but myself! These words reverberated in her mind, punctuating every step she took. Now that some of the steam had run out, they were cold, numbing.
Why was I so hasty? I don't even know where I am! To the untrained eye, however, it appeared to be the bad side of town. Buildings were unkempt, graffiti was everywhere, bums leaned on the grimy sidewalks, and the stench was unbearable. Worse still, gangs roamed the streets in broad daylight- some of them gave her a knowing wink and she shuddered.
Footsteps resounded- Vicky pivoted, her fists held up defensively. A man with a black hooded cowl stood behind her, a gun in his belt. A knife was in his right hand, one he quickly pressed against her throat.
Memories of The Other flashed through her mind, memories she yearned to forget. Well, there was only one way to keep from being a victim again- fight back. But was she strong enough to do it?
Mustering her courage, Vicky said in a voice that previously sent shivers down her charges' spines, "Leave me the fuck alone and your balls won't be ripped off."
He recognized her instantly- Icky Vicky. Hell, she'd babysat his younger brother- he was still traumatized. No way would he tangle with her.
So, yelping like a kitten, he removed the knife and ran off. She'd done it! She'd vanquished someone on her own, without anyone's help! She felt empowered.
"I just wish it felt better," Vicky muttered, drawing her arms about herself. Do I always rely on cruelty to solve my problems? I did it to Mark and I've done it all my life to everyone. Why do I push people away?
Not that that guy was someone I'd want to get chummy with, but still. I always act so intimidating while the truth is I'm scared out of my wits. I just can't tell anyone.
"Mark?" Vicky whispered, the wind catching his name and carrying it. "I'm sorry…"
"I know."
Pivoting on her heel, Mark stood a few feet behind her, his vehicle now a motorized scooter. Arms folded across his chest, he approached her cautiously. The flush of victory was still upon her, and, with a pang, he wondered if she were correct. Perhaps she really didn't need him.
"I suppose I'll meet up with you later," Mark murmured, halting. "You can take care of yourself, you don't need me."
"I don't need you, but I want you. I want you to keep me from becoming the monster you fell in love with. I want to be normal, well, as normal as could be expected, given the circumstances," Vicky whispered back, placing her hands on his face. Even now, after they'd consecrated their love, her heartbeat still tripled around him.
"And I want whatever you want," Mark replied, placing his arms around her neck and bending down for a kiss.
"But don't you miss how I used to be? How I used to terrorize the kids? Make them scream?" Vicky shivered remorsefully. To think, a being seemingly without a soul had given her one. Bizarre.
"Do you?" ((Believe it or not, dearest Vicky, both of us have changed in the past few months, more than you realize.))
"I miss Tootie, that's who I miss." Resting her head on his shoulder, Vicky sighed. "I can't believe she just up and vanished for three months, came back and refuses to tell us where the hell she went."
Mark shook his head. He suspected Tootie's problems were government related, an area best left untangled with. Of course, he said nothing, lest he worry her.
"I think ice cream and a safe roadway beckons, my love."
"Yeah…How did you know where to find me?" Vicky queried, watching Yugopotamian technology convert into a moped.
"Screams of 'Icky Vicky'," Mark said with a smirk. Actually, I tracked your emotions, but that's too complicated for you just yet.
"Ah," Vicky replied, wrapping her arms around him. "Still got it, don't I?"
Yes and Chip Skylark is still popular. Chuckling dryly to himself, Mark abstained from replying, they merely rode along in silence, Vicky listening to his heartbeat.
(The bad part of town, 9:50 a.m. PST)
He had sick leave. Actually, he had whatever he damn well wanted- he was the principal. The only thing he didn't have was Timmy…and Vicky.
For some unfathomable reason, whenever he saw Mark and Vicky, a fit of jealousy seized him. Why he should react thus was beyond him, but it was present, nonetheless. By the right of conquest, she should be his, anyway. He'd deflowered her, she was his.
Fists balled, Lorenzo hotwired a car and decided to trail them. He had nothing better to do, anyway. (That was his story and he was sticking to it).
Cheeks burning fiercely, The Other started it up, flooring it. The thought had never occurred to him and wouldn't for some time- he was also in love with Vicky.
(Gym class, 2:10 p.m. PST)
I'm back in this world and for what? To be subjected to another ball buster? Cock conundrum? Timmy's persecution? Tootie thought, sighing heavily. Timmy was far to the side, avoiding her. When she'd failed to answer him during his grueling cross-examination at lunch, things had gotten ugly. And now, she was just waiting for the day to be over, so she could do something, anything, alone.
"For a little bit of fun-" Gifoalski began, smirking. If pink-hatted queer was back with his girlfriend, why was Garia moving on her? She seemed to accept the comfort or whatever it was he was doing with his arms wrapped around her.
((Why are you letting him do that?!)) Timmy snapped.
((Why do you care?)) Tootie sent back, mental voice dripping with sarcasm. ((I thought the only thing that made you happy was asking millions of questions that I'm forbidden to answer!))
((And I thought the only thing that made you happy was me, bleeding to death because you obviously don't care if I live or die!))
((Stop!)) Tootie sobbed, breaking down outwardly too. Gary glared daggers at Timmy, threatening him with his eyes the best he could since he and Timmy didn't possess telepathy.
((Make me.))
"Well, while I hate to break up the love fest, I believe we have a class," Gifoalski snapped, shoving Tootie and Gary apart. Tears streamed down her face, rendering an repugnant look of delight on the fat, balding gym teacher's face. A new victim, he was always up for torture.
"Now, I believe it's time for couple dodgeball. That is, two people, boy and girl, must work together to defeat other teams. I'll choose the first couple." Gifoalski, his eyes lingering over A.J. and Trixie, opted to choose a far more entertaining couple.
"Turner and Tootie, get up there."
Shooting her a nasty look, Timmy retrieved a dodgeball- he looked as though he wanted nothing more than to clobber her with it and gain some truth. Tootie, on the other hand, wished she were elsewhere. The least Gifoalski could have done, if he had any humanity, would have been to put me on a different team…
So the war began. Tootie was strongly reminded of past circumstances, circumstances she lamented ever experiencing. Timmy wasn't defending her, either, but berating her and pretending, when Gifoalski looked, as though nothing was different. He had the nerve to kiss her in front of him.
((I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull, but if you ever kiss me after telling me what to do, your jaw and your skull be permanently disconnected,)) Tootie hissed, dodging yet another red atrocity.
((I could say the same for you.))
((You'd dare raise your hand to a girl?))
((What's so girly about you?)) Timmy retorted, knowing he was hitting low but he had nothing else. She wouldn't respond to anything else.
((I'm not in the mood for this!)) Tootie growled, narrowly avoiding another. She had to grab hold of Timmy in order to do this, dragging him down.
((I'm not in the mood for you! You and your bullshit about Fairy World! I don't believe a word of it! You're lying just because you don't want to admit that you like seeing me suffer!))
Catching a ball sent her way by Trixie (yes, she knew this wasn't legal, but she could care less), she clobbered Timmy with it. In response, Timmy, wincing (the ball was very hard), tackled her. They rolled around in the dirt, kicking and punching.
Drawing his hand back (and completely unaware of what he was doing), Timmy socked her in the stomach. Tootie, about to punch him in the side of the head, ceased. Pain ran up and down her and she screamed.
Timmy, stunned, gazed at his hand- blood, Tootie's blood. When he punched her, he'd opened up one of her lashings. No wonder she was screaming, it had to hurt like a bitch.
"I'm so sorry, Tootie," Timmy murmured, caressing her face. She pushed him away, sobbing.
"Stay away from me!" Running off, she vanished into the nearby woods. (Woods surrounded the school).
He began to go after her when Gifoalski, beaming, struck him with no less than five balls. The last thing he remembered as her blood on his fist and her tears. He was a monster.
(Boston, 6:10 p.m. PST)
Sophie hadn't had any luck yet. Nevertheless, she wouldn't give up. Conceding defeat was letting Juan win, something she couldn't tolerate.
Wanda was slowly growing weaker, her thoughts concerning Cosmo involuntary as were the seizures accompanying them. Sophie knew how Juan treated her in that condition and it sickened her. She just prayed Wanda didn't get pregnant, because that would be the end of her. No way could she support a loveless child.
So she'd plod onward. A lead had to turn up, even in an unlikely place. She just had to have a little faith…