Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, as usual, and everyone who added my story to their list of favorites. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Loath as I am to admit it, I am the Lindberg baby! (I can't be, actually, because the baby was a boy, wasn't it?) I mean, no, I don't own FOP.

Chapter Fourteen: For the Dreamers

"You must maintain a physical contact," Wanda advises her godson, fingers tightly entwined with Tootie's. Naturally, she's aware her statement is redundant, but she's repeating it for Cosmo's benefit. The last time they visited each other's dreams, Cosmo had left her dangling off a cliff because he'd found a passing ladybug more important. She must ensure Timmy does not do the same…it could be fatal.

Cosmo's expression is grim and he barely cracks a smile, never mind a joke. Although he tells Timmy Tootie will pull through, he himself fails to agree. One of their godchildren fell into a state similar to hers…and never recovered. It's depressing for everyone involved, not to mention fairly hopeless. But he and Wanda haven't the heart to inform him. Sooner or later, he'll discover it on his own.

"She'll live, won't she?" Timmy says, voice breaking midway. Scanning the room, his gaze falls upon the fairies. Urgently, he pleads with them to placate him, even if it's a lie. Lies can cocoon you, snuggle you in their warmth…believing Tootie will recover is essential to him. Then again, maybe it's time for him to grow up- saying and believing something will happen, wishing for it, will not make it so.

Stoically, she replies, "That's why you're entering her dreams, isn't it? Just in case?"

No, you're entering her dreams to renew her will to live. Holding her hand and talking to her here is not a good enough incentive to awaken her. As far as she's concerned, you coexist in her dreams, where she stands a chance at you.

Why dwell in this world, where she thinks you'll just fall for a cheap floozy again? She loves you, but it's not sufficient to rouse her. After all, if you don't love her back, what's there for her? Beatings? Mental abuse? She'd rather die than live to be molested, abused, and be bereft of a future. Sport, she's lost all hope.

However, Wanda speaks none of this. Already, Timmy deals with a burden; she needn't add to it. Again, another person protecting him from the truth…Conversely, if he were apprised, he'd give up. Wanda's too attached to Tootie to permit her to perish so easily…and like it or lump it, Timmy's her only chance.

Instead of sheltering you so much, I really should tell you the truth. In a few months, we'll leave you, but did we raise you right? By treating you like a child, how will you be able to deal with the world? Adults are more forward with their motives and actions.

Did we do our job? When you forget us, will the morals we imparted remain? Fairy godparents don't just grant wishes and make their children reliant on a magical solution, we strive to ensure you have human ways to deal with problems. However, by treating you as we have, are we completing our obligation? Are we doing right by you?

This is why fairies cannot raise young while acting as a godparent. Baby fairies cause too many magical maladies…and the lessons they must learn are counter-productive to humans. They conflict greatly.

I wish I could say Tootie's speech didn't frighten me. Her behavior…she's prepared to die. Timmy may need more than dreams to help her- he may require a reversal of time.

"Wanda?" Timmy inquires, head cocked to the right. "Are you okay? You kind of drifted off there for a few minutes."

"Deep thoughts, huh?" Cosmo asks, slipping a possessive arm about her waist. "Deep thinking hurts my head."

"That's no surprise," Wanda replies dryly, kissing him on the cheek affectionately. "Any type of thinking hurts your head."

"Right!" Cosmo says brightly, temporarily forgetting Timmy's present, holding Tootie's hand tightly and glowering. Maybe another time.

"Can we just get started? Make with the magic!" Timmy snarls, gripping her hand, already lukewarm. Her breath has slowed down to the rate where, if she isn't aided mentally soon, the machine will breathe for her. She's consciously killing herself.

Biting back a sarcastic reply (this is neither the time nor the place, not to mention she must elbow Cosmo to prevent any stupidity), Wanda says demurely, "Yes, yes. You wish it, we grant it."

Coordinated, they wave their wands; a series of purple, pink, green, blue, and gold sparks descend. Timmy sees a barrier placed before the room, preventing any doctors and nurses from intruding. Then, the world fades away…

-----

For once, Trixie and Veronica aren't the only ones discussed in gossip. Eventually, everyone discovered Tootie's condition and now they chat amiably, predicting when she'll die. At least they've forgotten about them, for the moment.

"Ten bucks she'll be dead by tomorrow!" The new head cheerleader croons. An unreasonable anger seizes Trixie- she protected her identity

and Veronica's; she doesn't deserve to be torn down just because she isn't there to defend herself. Even if she might truly be on the brink of death, taking bets on when that might be is unduly cruel.

Squeezing her hand tightly, Trixie purses her lips and approaches them. Already hatred rises like heat off a grilled commodity, but she decides she no longer cares. Let them rain scorn; haven't they endured the worst? They're too strong to give in, come what may.

"Oh, look, it's the lesbo loves! Come to gay us up? But don't touch us, it might be contagious," Courtney, newly appointed head (cheerleader), croons with glee. Around her swarm the rest, snickering or otherwise heckling the girls. You've been ostracized, now feel the repercussions. We hate you because you're different, we hate ourselves because we're all alike.

"Knock it off, Cour the whore," Trixie hisses; several compatriots gasp. Clearly, they've forgotten that, while Trixie and Veronica are public enemy number one, they too possess the power to bring misery. After all, until recently, they viewed them as friends…sharing all their precious secrets.

"And leave Tootie the hell alone," Veronica adds, leaning on her. Together, they represent a unified front, which is more than can be said for the cheerleaders. In their instance, they're united only as long as their interests are.

"Why the hell should I listen to you?" Courtney retorts, pivoting on her heel, away from them. Trixie smirks- she's afraid of them. She's afraid of what she doesn't understand…or worse, what she comprehends all too well. Nothing like fear of the norm.

"Why? I'll give you a few reasons: Jason, Andrew, Michael, Ryan, Joey, Steven, Fernando, Dustin, Christian, Kyle and…" She pauses deliciously, noting maliciously how Courtney's face blanched. Ten boys is quite a record, isn't it? Ah, but she saved the best for last.

"…Janet," Trixie finishes, causing both Courtney's and Janet's faces to pale. Hmm, bet they didn't think she'd remember that little tidbit, did they? It's one thing to carry the label of homosexual, but it's quite another to be referred to as bisexual. In many ways, high school cheerleaders regard that as heinous, sleeping with both girls and guys.

"That's right, folks, Courtney Griffin's bi-" Trixie cackles, enjoying the power high. Veronica scowls at her, disapproving of her mode of revenge. They willingly subjected themselves to the jackals, Courtney did not. All they'd desired was an exoneration of Tootie, not to tarnish everyone else's reputation.

"Stop," Veronica murmurs. "The damage has been done."

Burning with fury, Courtney glowers at Trixie and Veronica, but dares not touch them. There is something holy in the damning, something she will not challenge. They are holy hell, sanctified with their surety in their sexuality (unlike she, entangled in her web of lies) and devil's angels. No, she will leave Tootie alone…

"Anyone else?" Trixie inquires sweetly, wincing at the pressure Veronica applies to her hand. Any tighter and she'll break it.

As a unit, the cheerleaders retreat, horrified. No more bets on Tootie's death are placed that day, for entirely too much of the idle gossip repeated in cheerleading practice is neither idle nor gossip.

-----

A.J.'s a gentleman, damn it. He knows he shouldn't have feigned disgust just to allow Timmy a few minutes with Tootie, but he knows that's exactly who she wants to see right now. Only him, not the real knight in shining armor. It pains him, but he keeps his mouth shut. Right now, he's nearly suffocated in anxiety…

Around them, doctors rush back and forth, chattering about her. He doesn't fancy what he hears, either- from the sounds of it, Tootie's

slipped in a coma. They'd like to find out more, but something's impeding their progress. It's almost like a magical wall of some kind, but that's preposterous. Ah, well, they'll check on her later. After all, it's not as if she's going somewhere.

However, if there's a barrier around her room, he can't possibly cut Timmy's time short to speak to Tootie again. Conversely, even if he did get in, there's no guarantee she'll hear what he's saying anyway. Hmm, but maybe if he tries hard enough, he can break her sleep. Maybe it's not just Timmy she wants, but to know someone loves her enough to dedicate themselves to her awakening and subsequent recovery. It's worth a shot, is it not?

Sighing heavily, he clangs the change around in his pocket, reminding him he hasn't eaten any sort of meal since lunch. (If one could really call lunch a meal, given high school cafeteria food). Nevertheless, he's lost his appetite- someone you love dying tends to do that to a person.

Pacing, he finds his way back to her room, which is indeed enshrouded in an unknown barrier. Punching it and striking it at random do no

good, but he could swear fairy magic entombs its occupants. Grr…that means Timmy and Tootie are in there alone, and, in her situation, she might be liable to say anything to him, anything at all.

An echo of a recent conversation resounds, perhaps activated by his thought processes. It chills him to the core, hearing Tootie so desperate for him to make love to her, she's offering herself up. She places no further value on herself than a dildo would. In her mind, she's not even worth whatever a prostitute makes.

"Tootie…" A.J. breathes, biting his lip. Damn it, he has to get in there and keep Timmy from taking her up on her offer. Not that he really thinks he would, mind you, but being with Trixie Tang can do odd things. And Tootie's always had it bad for him.

Logically speaking…well, this barrier defies all sense of logic, so that went down the drain. What's left? How on earth can he get in there and protect Tootie from herself?

Sitting beside the room, A.J. places his fist beneath his chin and contemplates. However, lulled by the trance-like state induced, he soon falls asleep.

-----

Timmy knew one thing right off the bat- he didn't like Tootie's dream at all. Specters of the past haunted her- Vicky, as a ghost, swooped down to throw fire at her, shards of glass, and broken porcelain. Around him, a fireball sun lit up the world, the ground was cracked and arid, and when the wind picked up, it screamed obscenities at Tootie.

"Tootie?" Timmy called softly, walking towards her. Clouds of dust arose and he choked, but it was nothing compared to her, currently being whipped by Vicky, holding a whip with Ricky's face on the handle.

The whip fell upon her shoulder, cracking it instantly. Vicky rose her arm for another lash, but Timmy jumped in the way, knocking her to the side. Her sister fell to the ground, lifeless. Okay…

"Timmy? What are you doing here? This is my dream." Pressing her palm against her bleeding shoulder, she stepped away from him. He stepped forward, massaging her shoulder. They stared at each other for a second.

"You call this a dream? This is more like a nightmare," Timmy countered, kneading her bleeding shoulder in his hands. She sighed softly, shivering with pleasure.

"I don't know about that…" She trailed off, suddenly remembering something. Unfortunately for him, it was her resentment of the situation he didn't help at all and the aid he didn't offer.

"So when Vicky visits your dreams normally, you think it's a good thing?" Timmy inquired, glancing at her oddly. Moving away, she created a vibrant, verdant playground where the grass blew softly in the warm breeze. She descended upon a swing and, nonchalantly, rocked back and forth.

The blue sky, cloudless, illuminated her, elevating her, in Timmy's opinion, to the level of an angel. That was not too hard a conclusion to reach, either, because she was levitating above the seat. Hey, it was her dream, was it not?

Biting her lip, she decided how to best phrase herself. Timmy sat on a seat beside her, taking one of her hands into his own. Again, pleasure overwhelmed her, but that wasn't the point of this. She had to rant and rave against him, not enjoy his company.

"Toot…" He breathed, shifting and cupping her chin in his palm. Their eyes met and she longed to kiss him, but, instead, she finally collected herself, pushing him away. Now, of course, he was confused.

"Don't 'Toot' me, mister! You were so busy fucking Trixie, you didn't give a shit about me! I almost died, damn it, and you were too busy to notice! Didn't you hear A.J. tell you what was up? Didn't you care?

"For five years, Timmy, five horrible, horrible years, I was trapped in that house. But now I'm free. Aren't you glad? I can't bug you anymore in real life, and, if you hadn't followed me into dream world, I wouldn't be able to bug you there, either!" Tootie screams, her hair briefly converting to flames. She begins to pace the sand area, clouds of dust kicking up again.

"What do you mean 'bug me'? You aren't bugging me…" Timmy replied, missing the point. She halted, pivoted, and placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning her face dangerously close to his.

"I mean being alive. My being alive seems to bug, doesn't it? That has to be the reason why you didn't bother to check up on me, even when Vicky brought you to the house. You never said as much as 'hello' to me…in your opinion, it was best if I didn't exist!

"Now you're acting nice to me, maybe because you feel guilty, I don't know. I bet it's more that you can't get the girl you want anymore, so you'll find another pretty girl. In the meantime, you can have me outside here, go crazy…I'll just die. It's of no consequence to me- in fact, it'll be easier than living." Biting her lip, she fought back a flood of tears, but why would she be crying? It was the truth, wasn't it?

"You have no idea what it is to suffer, Timmy Turner. You have no idea what it is to wake up every day and wish you were dead. You don't know how much I prayed for this, that Vicky and Ricky would force me so hard, I'd break. I wanted to be dead, and I got my wish- but only if you let me rest in peace.

"But you couldn't do that, could you? You have a hero complex, or something, and you have to save me, even if I don't want to be saved.

"I'm not a fool, I know you'll never love me. I knew it when we were ten and I know it now- I have nothing to offer you.

"So, if you have any decency at all, you'll just leave me the hell alone!" Spitting in his face, she expelled him from her dreams.

-----

He lands, hard, on the floor. Cosmo and Wanda glance down at him worriedly.

"She kicked me out…" Timmy says dejectedly.

"We know."

"What am I supposed to do now?" He moans, feeling his cheek, where her spit had landed. Oddly enough, there really is spit there.

"Try harder," Wanda says grimly and sends him back in.