Author's Note: This chapter makes reference to Shrouded Silhouettes, chapter three. By now, I'm going to assume that you, the reader, are reading both. If you not, 'it's on you, not me'. And you'll be mighty confused…
Oh, and thank you to everyone that reviewed. Appreciate it. (I'd wink, but it'll be taken out).
Disclaimer: FOP will never be mine. Deal with it.
Chapter Two: Sleepless in Dimmsdale
Vicky tossed and turned, but did not sleep. Over the passing months, sleep had been a rarity and then, finally, non-existent. It was always something keeping her up at night, robbing her of that which she so sorely desired.
If she turned her head, she saw her husband, snoring comfortably. Of course he could sleep- he didn't have a ten-pound weight rolling around like a bowling bowl in his stomach. (Even if it wasn't ten pounds, it certainly felt that way).
Anger seized her again, as it usually did. By now, she'd grown accustomed to fury surging through her, causing her to strike out at anyone randomly. She'd progressed beyond Icky Vicky; beyond anything she'd ever been before…and, now, exhausted and apathetic, she let everyone have it. It didn't matter who they were, what they'd done through; they were all fair game.
Take Tootie for example, the rotten little runt that ran away for months at a time. When she came back here, she'd show her just what she thought of her. No one abandoned her, especially not her baby sister. She'd show her- after all, it was her fault she'd become pregnant. If she hadn't left for months at a time, she wouldn't have been alone in the basement with only her hormones and Mark to keep her company.
Thoughts of how she'd torture her entered her head. For one thing, Tootie wasn't going to escape without a beating. She'd return every ounce of emotional pain she'd delivered on her and then some.
Hmph…little brat. How dare she make her worry about her! Who did she think she was, walking out like that?
When she got her hands on her…
Mark awoke with a start and glanced over at her. During pregnancy, telepathy was the strongest ever, since their link had forged a person composed of, essentially, themselves. Since it resided within Vicky, her feelings, her emotions, conveyed so strongly over the link, reached Mark even within his dreams. The venomous nature startled him so much, he awoke.
"Dearest Vicky…" He yawned, stretching his arms and touching her shoulder. He glanced over at the clock, which read three a.m. What an ungodly hour…
"It is three o'clock…can you please calm down and go back to sleep?" Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he forced a drowsy smile, one she did not return.
"If you ever touch me, ever again, I'll rip off your balls, hard boil them, and cram them down your throat," Vicky growled, shoving his hand off her. Her frame shook with anger- so far, all through this mistake; he'd persisted in touching her. As far as she was concerned, entirely too much touching had occurred in the first place.
((Vicky…)) Mark sent with a sigh, although deigning not to touch her. It was hard to tell, these days, when she'd let him or not. (Although, most of the time, it was safe to say she wouldn't).
((I can take away the discomfort from your pregnancy and bear all the ills you bear now. Despite the fact you will remain pregnant, you will finally be able to sleep.))
Very gently, his hand brushed hers. She didn't smack him, thankfully, so he grasped her hand in his and squeezed gently. Although she seriously pissed off everyone else in the house, he could still tolerate her. After all, it was this form of her he'd fallen in love with, give or take a little malevolence.
"And what kind of trick is that? Voodoo magic?" She countered, removing her hand from his. Gain a step, slip back two…
((It comes from telepathy…please let me feel what you feel. I'm not saying I'll enjoy it, but you need to sleep- for all our sakes,)) He sent, touching her hand again. In order for this to work, contact had to be made. Ye gods, though, her hand was hot.
And for everyone's sanity…I don't need you flipping out on poor Tootie when she returns, I really don't, He thought, gazing past her into the recollections of her possible attacks on her sister. All of them, quite violent, caused him to shudder. Whenever that girl came home, all sides assaulted her. If he knew her better, he'd pity her.
But for now, managing Vicky took up a great deal of his time. He always had to be there, making sure she didn't go hog wild on anyone. And, since Timmy was the last person she'd seen, this she was certain of, he bore the brunt of her anger…unrelated to himself, of course.
He himself couldn't fathom her hatred for him. All he knew was it went far back into the past…but how far back he couldn't tell. Whenever he asked, she'd sock him hard in the balls and then change the subject.
That reminded him- he had to find a way to keep her from abusing him so much. He wasn't a plush doll; it really did hurt when she mangled him. And, since he was the one trying to maintain control, he wound up being whacked the most.
Sometimes, she'd apologize, but oftentimes, she'd smirk and tell him that if he didn't want it to hurt, he shouldn't have been born with balls. This, of course, made very little sense, but, seeing as she was pregnant, and, at the rate she was going, incapable of rationality, he let it slide. Besides, starting up an argument with her was like starting an argument up with Attila the Hun- better left unsaid.
Nothing he ever said seemed to be taken the right way, either. No matter what he said or did, nothing was good enough. Immediately, she'd take umbrage and he'd have to take cover, lest she strike him again.
Even though Mark had come from a warring planet, when he'd turned human, his instincts had changed. Combining with the fact he didn't wish to harm Vicky, he couldn't imagine harming anything anymore. (A thought that saddened him tremendously, were he able to think about it without Vicky charging off at her next victim).
Her brutal assaults upset him, to say the least. Most of the time, there was little or no provocation…and the results were bloody. When he finally managed to pull her off, the victim usually sported some sort of bloody appendage and was swearing up and down for revenge.
All the more reason to worry about Tootie, though. If she could beat Timmy over something trivial, what did it spell for her sister? As shown in the past, she had little compassion for anyone…and Tootie was no exception. In fact, by being her sister, it made her even more susceptible to abuse.
Meanwhile, Vicky mulled over his proposition. If it did in fact work, why not? In fact, let him deliver the kid, while he was at it. It was his thing that turned her into this.
With a wicked smile he disliked, she turned to him and said, "Well…if you're sure…"
She's up to something…
Grabbing her hand, he squeezed it, to start the link, when she absolutely bombarded him with her feelings, emotions, discomforts, and everything. This time, unlike before, he knew she was doing it on purpose…and it hurt like a bitch, too. Agony burst like fire in his mind and he fell to the bed, clutching his head between his hands.
For a good hour this went on, her absolutely massacring him with all these painful revelations. By the time she'd exhausted herself into sleep, he couldn't think. Every time he tried to do anything, even close his eyes, his senses were assailed.
It was going to be a long and acutely painful night…
-
Tootie stood blearily in the empty, darkened top floor of Dimmsdale's Public Library. She didn't think she had enough strength to walk out of here, much less walk home. Everything, the weakening of her defenses, finally sleeping with him only to be betrayed, and the trial had worn her out. All she wanted to do was shuffle home, collapse into his arms, and forget the woes of another world.
Without the transistor (and the aid of Cal…although not Daniela, who didn't appear to like her), she nearly fell down the stairs. She perched in the dark on a step and shuddered at the silence. Libraries, for her, were creepy enough with the librarians skulking around, but in the dead of night, nothing disturbed her further. And, given her emotional state, she was too exhausted to care. She'd sleep right here if she were given the opportunity.
Maybe she could spend a night here. It wasn't as though Timmy would notice another night…considering, according to Cal, she'd been gone five months. Unfortunately, this meant he had more ammunition against her, since he refused to believe anything she had to say. The longer she was gone, the worse she was in his eyes.
She couldn't do anything about it, either. How on earth was she supposed to know how long she was going to be gone? Was the time missing relative to how far the universe was from her own? Or did it have to do with how far the universe was as far as deterioration?
If she weren't so tired, she'd give it more thought. After all, it was certain she'd be alone during her stay here…however long that was. Jorgen hadn't seemed particularly poised to suddenly reappoint her. After all, she'd broken the one rule that he'd set out for her.
But was that entirely her fault? When she'd come home, after an absence she couldn't control, all she'd encountered was hatred. How on earth did they expect her to react when she was forced to become a soldier and then came home to abuse? Was she supposed to be happy?
Very carefully, she, not trusting her legs, slid down the stairs, one step at a time. At least with the rug, it wasn't as bad. Slowly…if she just made her way down charily, she'd be fine. No slip-ups…
Did Gary notice her absences as much as Timmy? Did he care? He claimed to care for her, but, after Timmy's heinous treatment, how could she be sure? Did anyone really care about her?
After all, her own sister, who admittedly had a tendency towards wickedness, blamed her pregnancy on her. Of course, since she'd just found out, she probably wasn't in a sane state of mind when she blamed her, but even so. It wasn't as though Tootie was calm either…and if it were up to her, she'd prevent her from ever becoming pregnant. She pitied the kid she had…there was no way she could be a good mother.
A sinking feeling settled in the base of her stomach. If Vicky was that bad the day she discovered her pregnancy, what could she be like now? She definitely wouldn't welcome her with open arms, which was for certain.
If only she could return to her own universe without meeting anyone she knew. Yes, she recognized the irony in that, returning home yet remaining a stranger. However, given the way she was bound to be received, she'd rather wander the streets.
Hunger gnawed at her- even though she'd only been gone, in her mind, three days, and those three days enabled her stomach to clamor for food. She'd never been less hungry in her life.
In fact, she'd never been less anything in her life. All she wanted to do was curl under a rock and live out of the rest of her miserable life. She'd never have any kids, she'd never be happy, so why bother to try?
Very weakly, afraid of the answer, she sent, ((Timmy? Timmy, are you awake?)) (As she had no idea of the time).
There was no response and she hung her head. Of course he wouldn't respond. Why should he? He hated her guts, he'd told her as much. The last time they'd spoken, he'd called her a crybaby and then had the gall to try to kiss her. What a dick.
But he was hers…or so she thought. For all she knew, he could have moved onto Trixie…tasted her…Just the thought of them together, like they had been before, while he was under Lorenzo's control, brought tears to her eyes. As angry as she was with him, as upset as he made her, as much as she hated it, she loved him dearly. Trixie and Timmy together made her feel as though her heart had fallen out and Vicky trampled on it.
Very carefully, she rose to her feet, ungainly though she was, and nearly fell over again. Where was Cal when she needed him? The last time she'd returned home, he'd been there to talk her through what had happened. Why had he skipped out on her?
Because no one cares about you, a voice whispered in her head. This was, as usual, the nasty little voice in her head. Recently, to keep her sanity, she'd begun to listen to it. It told her everything that she needed to know, like why everyone treated her like they did. They all hated her.
No one ever cared about you. Timmy lied…isn't that clear? He's never been nice to you, never. When he couldn't use you, he used Trixie. And when you came back, all he wanted was you in bed with him. That's all he's good for, being a jerk.
Tootie shook her head, blinking back tears. No, she'd promised she'd never cry over Timmy again. He wasn't worth her tears…so why were they coming? Why did it hurt so much to think that Timmy could possibly be lying?
((Timmy…please wake up…)) She sent again, weakly. If he was asleep and woke him, he'd probably be angrier with her than anything else she could do. She had no right to seek him out…she had no right to anything.
Once again, there was no response. Angrily, she brushed away the tears that sprang up again. At this rate, she was ready to beat herself up over this.
Get a grip, Toot. No one loves you, especially him. Get over it.
Feeling as though her arms were leaden, she pushed open the door. Unfortunately, it only budged an inch, acting as sluggish as she was. Damn door.
Cold air brushed past her and she wondered what month it was. Let's see…the last time she was home, it was about March. But the cold air brushing past her wasn't chilly; instead, it was rather balmy. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she'd say it was about July.
This meant she'd missed Timmy's birthday…just another reason for him to hate her. If Wanda hadn't returned, that meant he'd spent it alone, with only Cosmo to keep him company (some company that was).
What a miserable birthday…much like her own. She hadn't even been in this universe for her own birthday; she'd turned thirteen alone. No one had known it was her birthday, and she hadn't said a word. She'd let it slip by, like so many other things.
Twilight, the perfect hour to muse. With Cal and Daniela away and Timmy not answering, all she had were her thoughts. With no one to contradict her, she was free to hate herself to her heart's desire.
She was the perfect soldier in a war she was dragged into fighting. This meant sparing herself the precious feelings she'd prided herself on before and becoming someone she'd formerly hated, but now understood- Vicky. Although she hadn't grown up as cold and alone as her, she recognized apathy when she saw it.
But, in her heart of hearts, she didn't want to be alone like her. She wasn't like her; she'd never wanted to hate people. All she'd wanted was love…and, in the absence of it, what was she to do?
Vicky had grown up cruel, malicious, and the epitome of everything Tootie had never wanted to be. Since their parents were too afraid of her to properly punish her, she'd become unruly and believed she could step on everyone.
But Tootie didn't know why she'd been vindictive in the first place. What could influence her at such an early age? What had she been privy to that Tootie hadn't? Moreover, why was it her introduction hadn't made Vicky try to win her over to her side? Why did she hate her immediately?
A cold anger seized her- what right had Vicky to be apathetic? If she'd wanted to, she could have garnered all her parents' love and affection. If she'd been pleasant just once, Tootie was sure she could have had any boy she wanted. There was no reason, as far as she could see, for her actions.
She hadn't grown up with parents too terrified to touch her. She hadn't been systematically deprived of everything that gave her joy. She hadn't an older sister dedicated to making every single moment of her childhood pure misery.
And she hadn't finally discovered the boy she'd longed for so long, the only boy that she'd ever wanted, liked her only to turn on her. She didn't know what it was like to wake up screaming because of what she'd done to others, things she hadn't even wanted to do. She didn't have someone else's death hanging over her head.
She had the person just for her, the person that loved her. In fact, they'd even had a child together…if she'd given birth already, which Tootie did not know yet. But she'd made a family with the person that made her whole…and what had Tootie made? A big mess.
God, what Tootie would have given to be there for him when he was suicidal. He had no idea how badly she wanted him, how much she still wanted him, even after the way he treated her. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him, although, at this rate, she wouldn't tell him that. He didn't deserve to know.
For the first time in her life, though, she realized she was jealous of her older sister. No matter how cold, cruel, and malevolent she was, she had everything Tootie had ever dreamed of. And, of course, she didn't appreciate one bit of it.
Why should she? She was much happier ridding others of that which gave them joy than anything else. Leeches were kinder.
((Timmy!)) Tootie cried, stopping by a lamppost. Her feet dragged terribly and her legs buckled under her. Perhaps the transistor could convert into a vehicle to take her home…now, if only she could recall where she'd put it.
((Timmy…I'm here…don't you care?)) Please care…please say that you love me…that I didn't do what I did in vain…
I wish it'd been you…God, I wish we'd done that…
Can't you see what happens when I'm not with you? I fall apart. Already, I'm ripping at the seams.
Yet again, there was no response and her heart sank. Tears blinded her vision- no; she swore she'd never cry over him again. He wasn't worth it, damn it. He was worthless…no one deserved to make her cry.
Clinging to the lamppost, she sobbed her heart out. True, no one deserved to make her cry and she'd sworn to herself that she'd never cry over him again, but how could he treat her like this? And crying was fine…as long as she didn't get caught.
As soon as she accepted this as a veritable truth, she broke down entirely. Sobs wracked her frame and her vision blurred from tears. Why couldn't Timmy see how much she needed him? Why did he have to be so damn selfish?
Around her, nothing hooted, chirped, or otherwise commented and, through a cloudy gaze, she recognized the place with a shudder. It looked as though it hadn't been inhabited in months, but it still felt the same. Glancing upon it sent a chill down her spine and a rather unsettling nausea. Yes, this place held many recollections for her, none of them in the slightest bit pleasant.
Forcing herself up, she staggered for a few steps before collapsing again. She didn't know how she'd done it, but she'd managed to lose strength right in front of The Other's mansion. Perhaps there was just something about this place that drew your energy.
Like he'd drawn Timmy's oh-so long ago. Back when Timmy lived here, when he'd connived to kill his godparents. She had no idea what he'd done to him, since she'd never had the opportunity to talk to him about it, considering her damn missions.
Which reminded her- he'd never been kind to her, had he? Whenever he had acted nice, the reason was always two-fold. Maybe she wasn't worthy of him…or he wasn't worthy of her. With the tears cascading down her front, she was more likely to believe the former.
After all, he could have the pick of the litter, now that the whining brat was out of the way. If he didn't believe in telepathy like the Timmy in the last universe, with Katrina, then she could be in real danger of losing him. Again, her heart panged.
School was an ample time for them to meet and lament, or whatever it was he was doing. They would see each other at least twice a day, if she were only in his lunch and gym, and perhaps more. It wasn't inconceivable (although it was rather painful) that he might turn to her for comfort…and she might give it to him. After all, Tootie herself had been weak enough to fall for the concept of 'comfort'.
Speaking of comfort, there was slim comfort in the fact that, if the school year had indeed ended, she'd missed Gifoalski by a few months. Unfortunately, there was always next year…provided something hadn't happened to him. For some odd reason, she could easily imagine someone really socking it to him, perhaps in a lethal way.
Unfortunately, although the gym teacher had been priggish, nasty, and perhaps a pedophile, she didn't really care what happened to him. It wasn't as though, in those days when she'd ventured off into other worlds (here, it was months), she'd wasted her time thinking about school. School, in her mind, was an extra-curricular activity…and the real subject she had to pass was surviving all those horrible days in alternate universes.
For a split second, she thought she felt something tug in her mind. It only lasted briefly, however, but it gave her a spark of hope. Timmy, for all she knew, could be fast asleep and his response was a subconscious one. Even if it was, it meant he could receive her and maybe, just maybe, he could find it in his heart to forgive her.
No…she was too much of a dreamer. He'd never forgive her for this, if she could find the words to describe exactly what she was doing.
But she had two people to tell about her missions, right? So why not him? If he knew…then he'd forgive her. He'd have to.
Honesty was the best policy…and God, how she'd yearned to be honest with him. To have him finally understand her and then, believe her…it'd be like a dream come true.
Something scurried over her subconscious and scanned her memories. She blinked furiously, her tears abating somewhat. What on earth? Who could have access to this?
Unless…No!
Gripping the transistor, which Jorgen had neglected to take from her, she concentrated hard on the steel rod in her hands. In its stagnant form, it looked perfectly ordinary. However, in her hands, she converted it into something that, if Timmy weren't conscious to transmit, would show her his thoughts regarding her.
Like most things the transistor turned into, she hadn't known they'd existed until the instant they materialized. Useful device Lorenzo had stolen and, in the hands of someone with good intentions, a lifesaver.
After a few seconds, his actual projection appeared. He was, as she'd thought, asleep. However, the projection vanished, replaced by his mental one. This one wore an ugly look, his wrists scarred from slashes and his bones showing.
Had all this happened in her absence? But cutting, how could he do that? Why would he want to hurt himself?
Abruptly, the projection opened its mouth and spoke. Instead of being grateful for her presence, it uttered the one thing weighing most heavily on her mind. The bottom dropped out of her stomach and, although she'd sought to rise again, she fell.
"Whore," His mental projection spat at her and she gasped. No…he'd seen it…
Responding to an unconscious, unspoken thought, the transistor converted itself to a teleportation pod. Maybe if she woke him up, she could get to the bottom of this. She could interrogate him and finally, tell him the truth.
If only she weren't so tired- all she wanted was a nice, long slumber… for the rest of eternity. Like before, she could fall asleep anywhere, be it in the library or on the streets of Dimmsdale. All that mattered was she'd finally rest.
Just for a second, she closed her eyes…and immediately fell asleep. The transistor fell from her hands and became a beckon, begging anyone within the vicinity to come to her rescue. Soon, she'd find out how true her hypothesis was.
-
Gary, awakened by an odd, high-pitched shriek, jerked under his slide. Hmm…well, this was peculiar. Why on earth would he awake randomly?
He'd been in the midst of a nice dream, too, a rather pleasant one. Tootie had returned from wherever she'd been and immediately abandoned Timmy for him. She'd flung him aside and then started making out with Gary. He'd just placed his hands on her hips and slid them inward when he'd awoken.
He smiled softly, rubbing his eyes. Wouldn't it be grand if his dream turned into reality? If she was indeed back from whence she'd came and the person she saw stole her heart?
Of course, they both knew her heart had already been stolen by one Timmy Turner, but there was always hope of stealing it again. After all, with the way he'd treated her lately, whom else did she have to turn to?
One thing was for certain; however- he'd best locate her before his nemesis did. The last time, when he'd found her too late, she'd fled the scene. Whatever moronic thing he'd done or said had caused irreparable damage- and Gary had to prevent it from occurring again. She had to know someone cared about her, even if it wasn't Timmy.
He wasn't good for her anyway, making her cry like that. Every time he saw her crying over him, he wanted to run up to the jerk and rip his balls out, trample on them a bit. How dare he hurt such a sweet girl!
Did he really care about her the way he thought, though? Whenever he thought about her, he wanted to protect her from harm, but why? Had she stolen his heart, or were there other reasons?
An inclination to blame Timmy presented itself. After all, Timmy was his sire and any of his feelings or emotions, suppressed when he was released but still prevalent, could have been released as well. For all he knew, he could have had a thing for Tootie back then, but hid it. Telepathy only occurred in soul mates…so maybe he'd felt an attraction to her three years ago. Since Gary was part of him, the feelings towards Tootie could easily be shared.
Another possibility appeared- he only wanted Tootie because it would hurt Timmy terribly. The further he got with her, the more it'd hurt him. And, if he could sleep with her, Timmy would be devastated. He'd achieve what he knew Timmy wanted badly, even if he couldn't stop arguing with her. If he could swallow his pride, Gary knew Timmy'd do anything to taste her.
But did he want her as a conquest or something more? Already, Tootie would return in an unstable emotional state. If he tried (probably not that hard, either), he could probably have her.
However, something told him he didn't want her just because his hormones had kicked in. She meant more to him than that…which was why he had to keep her to himself. Timmy was no good for her and, in time, she'd realize this.
Yawning and stretching, he jumped to his feet and decided the best way to wake up was to go for a quick jog to locate her. It wasn't as though he'd been sleeping terribly deeply, anyway- sleeping under a slide tended to make you a little leery.
And, when he did find Toot, perhaps he could sneak into Timmy's house and take a shower. Smelling badly, not cool. (He hadn't a shower in a while, no wonder he reeked).
As it was summer, the early morning breeze was none too cold, although it felt a trifle odd jogging in the middle of the night. But, as he reminded himself steely, this was for Tootie's benefit and not his. She could clearly not survive living on the streets, whereas he could. Besides, if she had a place to go, it was his job to make sure she got there safe.
His feet pounded the pavement, the only sounds made in the bitter dark of night. Before long, his legs took him to another place he'd wished he'd never see again- Lorenzo DeMedici's old, creepy mansion. No one knew exactly what happened to him, only that, a few days after school ended, he'd vanished. Many a rumor floated around, and, after a while, they had a funeral for him with an empty casket.
The recollection caused Gary to smirk. If indeed he'd died, that meant Timmy had finally stopped him, once and for all. Although he could care less either way, he knew Lorenzo disliked Tootie immensely and his death might prevent one more person from harming Tootie.
There she lay, her frame thin and emotionally fragile. Just the sight of her took his breath away…he moved closer. In the darkness, she almost blended in with the sidewalk.
"Tootie…" Gary breathed, for once not bothering to shorten her name any more than it was already. He knelt down to her and stroked her hair. God…just as gorgeous as the last time he'd seen her.
Tenderly, like a lover's touch, he scooped her up into his arms. Her head lolled from side to side, ultimately resting on his chest and, for a brief second, he wondered why he should bother taking her to Turner's at all. All he'd do was abuse her. Wouldn't she be safer out here, with him?
Tears brimmed beneath her eyes; he brushed them away from her eyelids. Whatever she dreamt about that caused her pain; he'd do anything to fix it. And, of course, he thought he had a damn good idea why she was suffering.
Which brought him back to his previous point- why return her to a place where she was doomed to suffer? What kind of person would he be to place her in a home that abused her? How on earth could he sleep at night knowing Tim-Tim made her cry?
And cry she did. Whatever on earth she was dreaming about, it appeared to cause her a great deal of grief. Tears welled up in her eyes, and, when he wasn't brushing them away, they slid down her cheeks.
His heart ached for her…and his fists clenched in rage. He didn't care if Timmy was dreaming of his parents taking him to Disney World; he'd wake up to a punch first thing. No one got away with treating her like this, no one!
"Timmy…" She breathed, unconsciously stroking his face. Grand, another instance where she thought he was him. Well, she could think that all she wanted until he got somewhere safer.
Carefully, he walked the best way he knew how to Timmy's house. Although he hated his guts, as long as he kept a strict eye on him (and maybe shoved him down a flight of stairs so he couldn't hurt her), she might be all right. Sure, there might be Vicky as well, but he'd deal with that when it came up.
For some unfathomable reason, she felt lighter to him; even though he had to profess he hadn't spent much time holding her before. (That was all going to change, however. The only Timmy would be left holding was his severed balls when he was done with him).
She continued to whisper his name, tears springing to her eyes, but she did not rouse. In more ways than one, she looked drained. Apparently, she was so tired; she didn't realize he was carrying her through Dimmsdale.
There was something odd about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as though something had changed about her, but not here. In a different world, perhaps.
Before long, he halted, in Dimmsdale Park. Despite her airy weight in his arms, she really did weigh something and he couldn't possibly lug her all across town in one go. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to just rest here for a minute…
Lying on the bench, his arms tightly wrapped about her as she, in her slumber, clutched him; he shut his eyes for a minute…
-
The being formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty paced the hardwood floor of Lorenzo's abandoned mansion. Every once in a while, his eyes would flash in dull, empty anger, and he'd mutter something under his breath in French. The words were meaningless in common day French, but they carried a dark connotation. Months had passed since his beloved had been laid to waste by Cosmo, and he hadn't forgotten.
His blonde hair fell down to his shoulders now, but he cared little. In fact, he barely remembered to care for anything but his lost love and his hatred for Cosmo. When Eschcolex dined upon his soul, the only thing left was the pain he'd felt at the moment. His sole purpose was to destroy the one who had destroyed his love.
If one glanced into his eyes, they'd have recoiled in disgust. Instead of his cold blue gaze, they were now bottomless pits, devoid of any life. In fact, were it not for the fact that Eschcolex had animated him for his amusement (toying with fairies, when he could, proved to be quite enjoyable), he'd be dead. Soulless creatures did not survive for more than a few weeks and Remy was only kept alive by stolen magic.
However, although Remy and the fairies were interesting, he didn't hang around. There were other souls to steal, other beings to manipulate. The longer he stayed here, the more he missed.
So he'd left Remy here, although the boy could no longer remember the significance of the mansion. In fact, the only two names registering were "Cosmo" and "Juandissimo. Even their utterance registered minimally.
"Merde," The towheaded boy muttered, casually kicking aside a book in the library. It fell open on its spine and the boy scoffed. Foolish anti fairy magic, completely powerless. The only power lay in totally disabling your opponent and then laying claim to their essence.
Oh, how he wanted one of his own. It did not matter whose it was (preferably Cosmo's), but to have that power back…
If he acquired a soul, that did not mean he was alive again. To the contrary, Remy Buxaplenty would never live again. Whenever Eschcolex grew weary of him, his body would halt in its functions and he would cease existing. This was all part of the fine print of their contract.
However, acquiring a soul meant he could kill its owner. If Cosmo's beloved did not retrieve it in a timely manner, Cosmo would fall into a premature rigor mortis and he could steal his breath. In one split second, he could cut off his oxygen supply and, devoid of a soul; he would be unable to fight back.
The thought of Cosmo dying did not fill him with the sort of malicious glee The Other had in the past. No emotions flooded his senses, for there were none to be had. He was going to kill Cosmo because this was his mission. There was no other reason.
Fortunately, time was his ally. He'd bide his time…take it when he was the closest to her. Then they'd see…they'd all see…
Remy Buxaplenty laughed hollowly and, around him, echoed the sounds of death.
-
Timmy Turner's dreams were not as pleasant as Tootie might have thought. He tossed and turned, hearing her telepathy but uncertain as to whether he'd conjectured it or whether it was real. Whatever the case, her voice haunted him.
Dreams, like memories, flooded his subconscious. Although he supposedly slept through the whole night, he woke up more tired than when he'd gone to sleep.
-
Lorenzo DeMedici paced his small mirror and sighed heavily. One of these days, he'd force the truth out of her. And, if he lived to tell the tale, she'd be happier.
For some odd reason, her happiness was more important to him than it had ever been. For God's sake, he'd spent most of his life trying to kill her! Why on earth should he care whether or not she was happy?
Maybe he wanted her to be happy because she was Timmy's fairy godmother. That was probably it…
But that didn't explain why he'd deliberately provoked her. He only provoked people he liked like that, which would mean he liked her…
Scowling at himself, he sat down on the stone floor of his chamber and pondered this. There was no way he was attracted to the fairy that given him the most trouble. Simply put, it was impossible.
Besides, they were two different creatures. He was a half human, half anti fairy, and she was completely light. Well, almost- she still had the dark aura about her. Darkness…
Perhaps it wasn't her he was attracted to, but the dark magic lingering about her. All the could bes...
Sleep overtook him before he could deny anything more.