Author's Note/Disclaimer: I won't lie. I procrastinated on TOS and I apologize. A lot. But Nightmare, No Bounds, and whatever else I've been working on at the time. On one hand, I got a lot done for that, but, on the other, I neglected TOS and I'm sorry.
Fairly Oddparents is not mine. You won't hear that for too much longer, either.
Chapter Fifteen: Tests and Ordeals
The light blinded others to the truth. Darkness provided nourishment, security, sanctity, and sanity. Light obfuscated the issues and the darkness left enemies groping blindly. Light burned and darkness soothed. In the darkness lay peace and absolute death. With every cell in her body, she craved the darkness.
Lorenzo DeMedici folded his arms across his chest and leaned over the couch's side to watch Timmy. Months had passed, uneventful except for the intriguing love triangle. Wanda had habitually popped in to ensure no one had killed each other yet, though she hadn't needed to. As he spent more and more time alone, he found himself growing closer to a conclusion. What must be done. If Timmy wanted him dead, perhaps the best thing was…
"What the hell are you staring at?" Timmy snapped, brushing a single lock of creamy chestnut hair away from his beautiful cerulean eyes. Lorenzo stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the porcelain like skin, how his cheekbones accentuated his face, and those flawed buckteeth only further demarked him as a god. Though he remained lean, his skin no longer dangled off the bone like a bungee jumper and his complexion accrued a healthier tone. In fact, he resembled the naïve, gullible Timmy Turner he'd seduced. At the recollection, his heart skipped a beat and his normally tight jeans shrunk a little more. God, he wanted him.
Today he donned all black, including a turtleneck despite the stifling heat of an Indian summer. It ended neatly at his chin and what a sculptured chin it was. Not thick and bulbous like his father's, but rounded to a slight point. He remembered trailing kisses down that chin, crossing his Adam's apple, and heading for his shoulder bones. Shoulder bones which were clearly defined, despite the sweater concealing them. The stitching and bones matched perfectly, causing him to imagine caressing both before sliding his hands underneath to splay his fingers across a silky soft stomach.
A very large, sharp rock struck Lorenzo in the forehead and he winced, rubbing the spot gingerly. It bled and he swore, running into the kitchen to cot the flow. Timmy snickered, sliding down the banister (Wanda loathed that and predicted he'd crash into something sooner or later). He got caught on the polished edge, however, and stifled a cry- his pants were riding up painfully in the crotch. Once Lorenzo, pressing a hand towel to his wound, strode out, it was his turn to snicker appreciatively. Timmy Turner, technical genius.
"I pity any children you'll have, Timothy. With any luck, they'll inherit your sense of recklessness and careen down banisters only to damage their genitalia. Ah, but that's supposing you haven't caused irreconcilable harm to your own. Have you?" he smirked, cocking his head.
"Would you like a test run to ensure everything is in proper, functioning order?"
Falling off and onto the carpeted stairs, his head struck one in particular. Truthfully, he wasn't certain he longed to laugh at his foolishness or rush to his aid. On one hand, if he did the latter, he'd be able to touch him for a few precious seconds. A grin blossomed and, hastily tossing aside the towel, he darted to the bottom. Timmy, despite his newfound headache, scrambled backwards to evade him. Of course, he forgot his anti self was not only larger, but faster. Within seconds, he'd captured him to press against his chest. All the color drained from Timmy's face and, momentarily he didn't even fight. He thought he was going to be nauseous.
"No Wanda to save you," he crooned. "No Cosmo to perform an idiot's rescue. No Tootie to pine after you. No Gary to laugh at your failure. There's only me. Who you gonna call, Timmy?"
Timmy squirmed, kicking madly and elbowing him in the stomach. Lorenzo fought to hold on, but when he scored a shot into his privates, he bellowed and released him. Pure, unadulterated hatred burned in the thirteen year old's eyes. He looked fully capable of ripping him apart with his bare hands. Lorenzo retreated, but eased into a defensive position. This was like their sparring before, no different. Naturally, Lorenzo was now magic-less, but that hardly changed much. Physical fights required no magic, anyway.
Timmy lunged and Lorenzo sidestepped him neatly, but the brown haired boy was not stupid enough to charge into the couch. Instead, his eyes darted back and forth to locate a weapon. Retrieving the fire stoker, he hefted it and thrust forward, nearly hitting him square in the chest. A little panicked now, he snatched a thick pillow to parlay the attacks. Timmy scoffed, thrusting at his crotch, then swiping at his neck. Lorenzo ducked just in time for the stoker to graze a bookshelf and the TV antennae. The wire twanged.
Lorenzo back-stepped, kicking Timmy in the knee just as he dove forward. The attack caught the boy off balance and he landed hard on his stomach on the rug. Eyes narrowed loathsomely, he stabbed at his ankles, but he stepped on the metal. Timmy swept it out from under him and it was Lor's time to fall onto the rug. This temporary disability enabled him to leap to his feet and dig it into his neck, namely his jugular vein. Heart fluttering madly now, Lorenzo DeMedici looked into his assailant's blue eyes and saw only murderous intent, no mercy.
"I willkill you. I will avenge everyone you hurt and murdered thoughtlessly. I willmake you suffer for every wrong-doing you've committed, every atrocity you've done to me. I will make you pleadfor mercy, begfor death…and not deliver it. Then, when you least expect it, I will strike you down. I will hear your howls into the night," he hissed, digging it into his neck. To his astonishment, the anti fairy smirked, shoving it and him backwards. The lapse in pressure gave him the chance to rise again and that he did, snatching a rather large and threatening butcher knife.
"Then why must you waste my time delivering fallacies and ultimatums? Come now, child, let us dance," he replied, waving the blade. Its edges blurred as his wrist expertly twisted and manipulated it. Timmy's eyes were drawn to it like moths to a flame.
The stoker shuddered upon Lorenzo's attack and Timmy suddenly snapped to attention to slam into the cabinet. His powerhouse kick struck him in the side and his head rebounded. Lorenzo, since he knew his opponent would spare him nothing, darted forward to press the tip into his throat. Leaden blood pooled on the knife and, shocked, his eyes widened.
"You ask me to kill you. I love you, but if you persist, I will give you your wish. En garde, Timmy Turner. Stand up," he growled, spinning the tip and creating a rounded wound. Timmy squawked, but his eyes hardened determinedly. Ducking his head, he crawled beneath the blade's reach and karate chopped his legs. Lor stumbled, but maintained his balance. He kicked him brutally in the chest, hard enough for Timmy to spit up blood.
"Get up, fool. I did not waste my time teaching a coward who whimpers pitifully at the sight of a weapon. Get up now or never again," he snarled, the months of pent-up sexual frustration, self anger, and resentment of the situation he'd been forced into contorting his rage into homicide. If the object of his affections preferred this, then so be it. Let no one said he had not warned him.
Timmy shoved harshly against the carpet, spat at Lorenzo's feet, and roared in rage. Fists clenched, he snatched his weapon only to find it pinned beneath his opponent's foot. He attempted to wrench it out only to be kicked in the chest again, this time an inch or so away from his throat. He fell backwards, seeing stars. Lorenzo snarled again, stomping.
"Get up, bitch. Get up and face me like a man. Or would you rather you faced me like your father did, a body part strewn across the road thanks to an explosion? I can arrange that, you know," he chided and Timmy surged, no longer caring about the loss of a suitable defense. He spurted backwards, then forwards again, leaping up and landing his foot squarely in the middle of his chest. Lorenzo stumbled, but Timmy wasn't finished. He delivered countless kicks, punches, and head butts, slamming him into the wall. Lorenzo swallowed hard, cornered but still with the blade.
Timmy raised a fist to pound on his chest, but Lorenzo swiftly sliced through the air and flesh. However, the knife plunged an inch before Timmy shrieked, attacking him with the other fist as his right bled furiously. He elbowed him and, in a haze, spun around, but lost his footing. Lorenzo seized him in both arms, hefted the blade up to his throat, and felt him shudder violently. He smirked, kissing the top of his head.
"Hmm. Raping you at knife point. Never done that before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" he said coldly and a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. One of his hands snaked out and squeezed his wrist painfully, until the bones grinded together and finally broke. Crying out, he dropped the knife; Timmy pivoted, head butted him in the stomach, and then, raising both fists like he was about to serve a volleyball, attempted to pound him in the chest. At least, he would have succeeded were it not for Lorenzo moving away at the last split second. They slammed hard into the plaster, cracking it and creating an enormous hole. What Lorenzo wouldn't give for the ability to heal himself right now!
Teeth gritted, attempting to drown out the agony, he regained a defensive stance. Timmy spun around, a tad too fast, and shook his head dizzily. Balling his uninjured hand, he hammered it into the side of his head. Blood pooled on his knuckles and he grinned, watching him tumble and then lay rather still. He wasn't unconscious, but he was hardly in the position to fight back. Excellent.
Lorenzo knelt down and straddled him. Bleeding and petrified, Timmy pushed against his chest in a vain attempt to stave him off. No, he'd been waiting too long. He couldn't…wouldn't be shoved away. He thrust his left hand beneath his shirt, stroked his flat stomach, and moved up to his nipples. Leaning forward, he captured his lips in a kiss and tasted the salty, tangy treat of tears. Timmy was crying.
"Wanda…" he moaned, head lolling. "Wanda…"
He snickered, certain she'd ignore his call. Cupping the back of his head in his left hand, he smashed his lips against his and ground himself against him. He let it drop to touch his pants' zip…when a wand point dug fiercely into his spine. Magical sparks shot onto his clothing and he swore, rolling off and accidentally bending his broken wrist behind his back. Pain arched through his body.
"What is going on here?" Wanda hissed and Timmy, no longer powerless, sprung up (and instantly regretted it). He snatched the knife off the carpet and would have stabbed his creation in the chest were it not for the pink aura paralyzing his arm. Bewildered, he craned his neck to see her glare at the duo. Her hair was darker than usual and her wings were tattered, like she'd been mauled by an animal.
"Should I let you two kill each other off and save myself the trouble of disentangling you every time? Timmy, I am not your secret weapon- how dare you use me to slip in a finishing blow. Lorenzo…I don't know what to say to you. I really don't," she sighed, lowering herself onto the couch. Her wings fluttered and vanished entirely, darkening her complexion, eyes, and hair another notch.
"I don't have time for this," she snapped, waving her wand and healing them instantly. She then cast a spell to freeze them if another possibly lethal situation occurred, and poofed out as abruptly as she arrived.
The void, terrifying to most, but to someone as determined as her, her legs merely quaked and her wand hand threatened to expel its weapon. She glanced at Sophie, who smiled weakly and supposedly comfortingly. The last time she'd returned, she'd been so pale, her goddaughter had panicked. This was a great burden for one so young, but she wouldn't trust anyone else to it. Timmy was obviously incapable of keeping a cool head, Lorenzo had never been an option in the first place, and Tootie was off during Fairy World's bidding. Still, at least Sophie was willing to do whatever it took to tether her to this reality. She appreciated that.
When she touched his brow, she immediately cringed. Over the past few weeks, it'd grown increasingly clammy and rather unpleasant. She knew the longer she delayed, the sooner the inevitable was to occur. And she also knew that this wasn't her first battle, either- even if she retrieved his soul and reunited her lost part, she had Eschcolex and his apprentice to contend with. It made convincing Timmy not to murder them, in retrospect, sound like a walk in the park. At least then, she had Cosmo.
"There-there's no other way, right?" she squeaked, hair draping over her right shoulder. "I mean, you can't just magick him here and-"
"No, Sophie," Wanda replied sternly, offering her the largest smile she could muster, which was a mere twisting of the lips. She hugged her tightly, clenched her eyes and teeth, waved her wand once, and returned.
She shivered, yearning to rub her hands along her goose pimpled arms. Lamentably, the cold sprang not from a temperature decrease but an ache in her soul. She drifted purposefully forward, praying a spell she'd enacted while Sophie slept led her to Juandissimo and not astray. Heaven knew she'd wasted enough time on impracticalities and twiddling her thumbs. Though she dreaded the inevitable interaction, she knew it necessary. She held her head jauntily high, belying the confidence left in the real world. Her spell had also restored other creatures' memories as well and, because of this, one might pave the way if her own instincts proved faulty. Literally, her task required her to take a shot in the dark.
Another shiver, but of a different nature. She spun, narrowing her eyes at the very pale pink accompanied by the scent of death and decay. How the odor traveled here was beyond her, but she recognized it nonetheless. Rather typical of them to travel together- but Blonda had always been a daddy's girl. Both had perished before Lorenzo became a dot on the radar, Big Daddy thanks to a business deal gone awry and Blonda…actually, she'd no idea why Blonda died. The funeral had shed no light on the matter and the sudden shock she'd experienced through their particular bond startled her, but explained nothing.
Twins possessed their own bond, much like creator and creation. In this instance, the feelings conveyed were far weaker than the mental bond of telepathy (shared by both creator/creation and soul mates alike, but varying in strength and acuity). As physical and emotional distance took its toll on their relationship, they shared less and less. In fact, her death was the first sensation she'd received of her in years. Yet now here she was and, if she desired, she might inquiry the why. It passed through her mind to do so, but, again, another waste. The answers to some of life's mysteries must remain that way, for the sake of Cosmo.
Big Daddy scrutinized her and what little color remained in that blanched, apparition's face fled. He floated ahead and clasped her hands in his. In all seriousness, he leaned forward, embraced her, and gestured towards their surroundings. Blonda nodded as he spoke and added nothing. A very thin tendril linked the two's wrists so that when Big Daddy sprang forward to hug her, she jerked as well. If Wanda had brought Sophie along for the ride, she would have been able to say without a grain of uncertainty that Blonda's death had been linked to her father's. Hence, the spiritual bond between the two.
"I knew it," Big Daddy murmured, shaking his head in disgust. "I knew he would drive you to suicide."
Furious, she shoved him away and her pink eyes blazed. She longed for her wand, but perhaps her words would serve better. Still, the void clearly allowed for a level of solidity. Her temper forever at the breaking point thanks to Timmy's quarrels, Tootie's troubles, Lorenzo, and the incredible taxation of locating Cosmo and herself, she acted on what she'd always desired to do, if only she'd the conviction. Drawing her hand back, she slapped him hard for all the times he'd ever insulted Cosmo to her face, for all the insinuations that he couldn't love her because he was too stupid, for all the attempts he'd made on his life, and all the balled up anger she'd ever experienced towards him but kept hidden. If they were in the real world, she most definitely would have broken something.
Blonda's eyes widened while her father staggered, stunned by his eldest daughter's outrageous behavior. All the words she'd never expressed poured out in a molten flow of fury that transformed her pink aura from a thin veil to a fire that stretched out and hit other, less capable fairies. Meanwhile, if she'd shifted her head a fraction behind, she might have seen her soul's other half look on interestedly. It soared away when Blonda caught a glimpse, however.
"I'm here to rescue him, thank you very much. I know you never approved of him, Daddy, but he's my true love. You never wanted to hear that and I'm sorry you couldn't get over it, but now is not the time to badger me. In fact, it was never the time to bother me about my choice in husbands. You know why? Because no matter what, I'll stick by him.
"You know why? Because he wasn't conceited, priggish, and a complete jerk like Juandissimo. Cosmo might be less than average at times, but he loves me. And, to someone who destroyed love and hope on a regular basis, you could never understand. You never will understand, either. When this spell wears off, you'll float aimlessly away, unable to understand why I came to you in the first place. And I'd pity you. But I've nary the time."
Her words, more powerful indeed than the blow, struck a chord on their own. Finished with him, she turned towards her sister, who offered the first genuine smile she'd seen in years. The corners of Wanda's lips twisted up, but she was unable to return the gesture. Instead, she directed her question at her and, to her relief; she answered her simply and accurately. Despite her sister's failings (as everyone possessed them), she'd never betrayed her.
"Do you know where I can find Juandissimo?" she inquired politely, ignoring her father, who drifted in a state akin to comatose.
"Yes," Blonda answered swiftly, pointing northwards or whatever passed for north in this place. "I know this may not be the best time or advice, but be careful."
Wanda nodded, hoping the general direction would become clearer as she traveled along. Yet her family had sought her out, perhaps because she continued to live and breathe. It stood to reason that if she traversed far enough, Juandissimo might seek her out as well. And finish what he started, she thought, but dared not voice.
"Thank you," she replied and, because she felt obligated, she hugged her tightly. The embrace was returned, albeit with the unrestrained arm. Then, unable to face the pain of the stark reality that her entire family was dead, she passed on ahead.
She continued, colliding into something rather solid, but, unfortunately, soft as well. Blinking in confusion, she glanced up to find yet another unpleasant figure from her past. Unlike Big Daddy and Blonda, her teal aura shone dimly alone. No husband clutched her arm like some of the others, no lover to support her, and, to her immense relief, no son to mollify her. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a brilliant pink aura glide in and out. It flitted away too quickly to discern entirely who, but she knew innately. The bizarre notion, that these meetings were no coincidence, caused her to wonder if she was being tested by her other half. She certainly hoped not- mind games were not exactly an arena she relished. Her darker half, perhaps, but not her patience waning and her anxiety at this level. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions.
"Mama Cosma," Wanda greeted through clenched teeth, remembering the details of her death all too well. This, too, had happened before Lorenzo, but not his awakening. She'd died in Timmy's eleventh year through a rather risky and nearly impossible procedure- trying to reanimate her dead husband. The magical spell had, instead of returning whatever fragments remained of Daniel's soul, rebounded upon her and ripped hers out, subjecting it to the void. In due time, her body perished, unable to sustain any sort of life bereft of a link and way to return her essence to her.
"Why, hello, cuckolding daughter-in-law of mine who never should have touched my precious Cosmo-lolo in the first place," she replied, eyes narrowed. The rest of her statement was ordinary enough, but 'cuckolding'? She'd died way before the mess with Juandissimo and, therefore, should not know a thing. Unless she was merely trying to inflict damage without preconception, then Wanda could overlook it as a stray insult. But something in her eyes told her this was not the case.
"I beg your pardon?" Wanda replied, speaking through clenched teeth. Of course, she normally spoke this way when Mama Cosma lived, but the compacted insult irritated her greatly. Behind her, the ghostly second half shook its head in disapproval and then vanished, utterly unseen by either individual.
Nodding her head towards the vast expanse Wanda had yet to travel, a very nasty smirk covered her face. She held her head haughtily, like the pink haired fairy was beneath her. Wanda slowly counted to ten mentally, bracing herself for the catty remarks entailing. She barely steeled herself for thirty seconds before the first one exploded.
"Juandissimo told me all about it. How you begged and pleaded with him to take you. How you shoved my precious Cosmo away until he cried. How you hurt him. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I warned my Cosmo you were bad news. But no, he had to run off and act like he knew better," she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. Wanda glared, tempted to slap her like she had her father, but she sensed this goading served a purpose. Still, she was in her way and she badly needed to see the source of her frustrations. Mama Cosma was just a distraction.
"And now, look where he is. In this void with his mother. Ah, but at least we'll be united," she finished, smiling benignly. Wanda yearned to wipe that smile clear off her face and send it and her into next Wednesday. Nonetheless, she knew better. While her confrontation with her father had been a result of never expressing her feelings about him, she'd habitually told Mama Cosma what she felt of her. Her death hadn't changed things too much.
"No, you won't," Wanda replied flatly. "You will never be with him because he's my love. Tell me where you heard that awful racket of lies and begone."
Smirking, confident she'd won, Mama Cosma replied, "Why should I do that? So you can be reunited with your real lover?"
Shaking furiously, she snapped, "You know what? I'll find him myself."
The air temperature, which she'd always assumed was null, dropped enough to see her breath. She rubbed her hands along her arms, but the cold penetrated her soul. It was the frigidity of heartless, senseless violence and rape. It fed off her anxieties, frustrations, and securities and reduced her to a shell of her former fairy self. Yet here she was, careening towards its gaping maw. She clenched her eyes shut, permitted a single tear to slide down her cheek unabated, and urged herself onward. Once again, the pink flash, but gone before she named it.
He postured, impossibly alive and despicably attractive. Silky raven locks swayed in a perpetual breeze and his muscles rippled like waves in a pond. His strong jaw worked fiercely as he admired himself in a makeshift mirror. Dead, yes, but still as narcissistic and conceited as always. The only indication he perished at all was the large, blood stained spot in his chest where Cosmo's sword pierced him. She wanted to laugh, mock him derisively, but it hurt too much.
His beautiful magenta eyes scanned the perimeter, but missed her entirely. They instead glimpsed her other half, lingering just beyond mortal eyesight. His face blanched and the fingers grasping his mirror clenched it tightly, breaking the plastic handle. His eyes shifted madly, the look of someone on the brink of capture for a wrong-doing. Nervously, he bowed, but her stern expression never wavered. Panicking, he shot forward and straight into the real deal, who hadn't witnessed the second half of this. She stared at him quizzically and, when she did, her light dissipated, invisible but still lurking in the shadows.
"Mi amor," Juandissimo said, his anxiety lingering. However, at the sight of her darkened hair and features, he gained new hope. She glanced down and discovered herself to be identical to the fairy he'd ransacked. An uneasy feeling developed in the pit of her stomach.
"I have missed you," he said, grinning viciously. She yearned to flee, but her body froze head to foot. Now that she was here, she wished she wasn't. She had the sense she was shaking like a leaf in real life and Sophie was running around the room like a madwoman to find a cure. Poor girl.
"Juandissimo…" she started, but words failed her. She stared, clueless, aware that all the time she'd pursued him, she'd never fully conceptualized what she'd say. She figured locating him would be the difficult part and, magically, she'd find exactly what she searched for. She never anticipated delivering any sort of speech, particularly not to someone who petrified her beyond words. But that was part of it too, wasn't it? She had to face her fears and if not now, then when? She had to face the creature that stole so much from her and tell him to stop haunting her dreams, stop screwing up her life, and return Cosmo to her.
"Yes, mi amor? My beloved?" he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. She chanted mentally, He can't hurt you. Not here. Not ever. Don't let him.
He nuzzled her neck and the paralysis swept her mouth too. Stubbornly, she wrenched it open again and concentrated on the one thing that might stop him. The one thing that given her a weapon before. Might it help now? It was her only shot. She could distract him now, gather her wits about her later, and then fend him off.
"Cosmo," she said aloud and he stopped, confused. "I'm doing this for Cosmo. Cosmo."
It might have been one name, but it gave her more power than she realized. In the absence of her other half, hewas her light. Hewas the one who made godparenting less of a chore and more of a labor of love. Hewas the reason she hadn't become her father's daughter.When she needed him the most, hestabilized and comforted her like no one else. And only she, not Juandissimo, had the right to judge what she was worth.
"Not you," she spoke slowly, gathering strength. "You don't have the right to take my life away from me. You don't have the right to hurt me anymore. They say people can only hurt you if you let them. I refuse to let you hurt me again, Juandissimo. Dead or not, your power over me is over. I will not be your puppet.
"My life, my heart, my body, my love, and, most importantly, my soul are mine. The only fairy who can lay claim to them is Cosmo, never you. Now, if you don't mind, I have a world to save- mine."
Then, the world around her vanished.
"Well played, my dear," a voice called, and, rubbing the back of her head gingerly, she sat up and opened her eyes only to find herself on the floor of her mind room. Blinking, she stared at the hand proffering help and its owner, her other half. Then she saw the swirling edges beyond her fireplace and the overall gloom of the room. The corners peeled away, replaced by darkness. She whirled around to discover herself back in the void, but still attended by herself. Bewildered, she gawked as she summoned replicas of Big Daddy, Mama Cosma, and Blonda. They hung limply, merely projections of their dead selves.
"Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the rest. One out of four a game of hearts does not win," she said delicately, inscribing an X on their chests. The wand sparkles, materializing from an invisible wand, danced lightly in the darkness. Wanda, befuddled, stared blankly.
"You lose, Wanda. These three, they were a test. You failed. You have shown through your temperament that you are not the fairy Cosmo fell in love with. You displayed violence against your father, apathy towards your sister, and, instead of facing Mama Cosma head on, you ignored her. There is no possibility for a rematch or another trial."
Wanda turned the words slowly over in her head, all the while glancing at her other self, who floated there patiently. When she discovered her focus, she smiled serenely.
"I…I can't get Cosmo back?" she replied dumbly, but the other shook her head. "Then what…?"
Gently, she pressed her finger to her lips and Wanda fell silent. She then grinned, waved her invisible wand, and a swirling vortex appeared. Given her experience with anything resembling that, she had to say she wasn't exactly eager to fling herself in. Swallowing hard, she glanced up at her other self expectantly, but she never enunciated herself properly.
All she said was, "Then I wish you the best of luck in the bonus round."
Whatever she anticipated after landing face first, fresh out of the vortex, it wasn't grass. Spitting it out, she pushed herself up to peer curiously at her new surroundings. While fairies enjoyed their fair share of supernatural phenomena, she could safely say without a grain of doubt or dissension this past year and a half had been the single most taxing, brain-racking, and magically fostered hell she'd ever encountered. Why couldn't she have had a normal godchild? One who wished for toys and candy instead…
At first glance, this appeared to be similar to one of the universes Tootie told her about, but she doubted Jorgen would suffer her to this. Besides, this wasn't his concoction. It was her other half's, whatever she was up to. Frowning lightly, she started walking since her wings were strangely absent. In fact, her whole body felt a great deal heavier, like a human.
A dirt path lay to her right and, bereft of anything else, she traveled along it. Soon, she found herself in a city not unlike Fairy Square. High, blank buildings rose on both sides and their features were grey and generic. They towered high above, into the cloud cover. Whoever designed this city hadn't put very much effort into it, but at least it reaffirmed the notion this was not an actual place. Stepping into a puddle, she peered curiously at her appearance- human, indeed. No magic crackling at her fingertips, no spells to aid her- whatever her task required, she must do it naturally or pay the price.
Suddenly, fairies and humans spurted past her in a desperate attempt to flee the fire red dragon breathing fire upon their home. His majestic wings spread far, but in actuality, he stood barely bigger than a horse. Still, weaponless and terrified, the creatures sped past to prevent becoming barbecued. Yet in one building, one denizen refused to budge. Rocking back and forth, he catcalled the dragon and waved one obscene finger at him. The dragon, however, paid him little mind, and flew off to terrorize another group. As a passing memento to a pest, he exhaled once more and the building caught fire.
"You must save him," her voice echoed.
"Oh, no," she murmured, shaking her head and staring up at the window. "No, no, no."
Lorenzo DeMedici poked his head out and called down to Wanda. "Why, hello, Wanda. Nice day, isn't it? I hardly fancy being fried to a crisp, so if you please, a rescue might be in order. If not, well, when I fling myself out the twentieth story window, I shall be certain to send my flame riddled corpse atop your glorious hair and bring you along with me.
"Don't mind me. I'm just the damsel in distress."
Wanda sighed and stared at the sun, which accrued her features. She paced, weighing the consequences of her actions. If she rescued him, she'd save a life, but one that had brought her and her family much sorrow. He was Timmy's creation, but his death would benefit everyone. He had no magical ties to Timmy and therefore, if he died, he wouldn't hurt him. The reasons to leave him be far outweighed that to deliver him into safety's arms. He wasn't her godchild, she had no emotional ties to him and though he'd saved her, he'd also tried to kill her and, when that didn't work, sent Timmy after them. His whole existence ensured misery and never-ending anguish.
If she stepped away and waited for him to die, all of their problems would be finished. But how fair would that be to him? Despite all his setbacks, despite all the times he came onto her, all the arguments and fights he propitiated, he really was trying to reform. Despite everything, there was the possibility he wanted to change. Should she let him die without trying to make amends? Who truly dictated one's destiny? Could she, in full conscience, deny him life because of his past deeds without considering his future? What about second chances? What about the side of him that was Timmy? If she let him die, was she killing part of her godson? An evil side, definitely, but part of him nonetheless.
Sighing heavily, she gritted her teeth and ran into the apartment complex. The acrid smell of smoke burned her lungs and flames pranced around the stairwell and then the doorway. If she wanted to turn back, she'd die. Lovely.
Climbing, climbing, forever climbing up the stairs while her lungs ached, her eyes teared, and her body increasingly weakened. She stumbled on the ninth, forced herself upright, and continued on. Meanwhile, as clear as a bell, came Lorenzo's voice. He was the most annoying victim she'd ever had the misfortune to meet. If he didn't shut up in about ten seconds…
A beam, collapsing thanks to age, tumbled to the floor before her eyes and blocked the stairwell. Smoke, thick and sulfurous, arrested her breathing. Meanwhile, the deadly dance snapped and exploded at her back and she fell to her knees, unable to stand. How to reach him now? At least the air, sweet and fresher, near the floor assuaged her sore lungs. Yet the fact remained- the stairwell was the only way to climb, was it not? A voice whispered in her head, Not entirely.
Shaking her head ruefully, she reflected her other self had to up the ante. Perhaps she deduced the higher the stakes, the less likely Wanda would risk life and limb to save Lorenzo. Conversely, however, she'd calculated the measure of this bonus round and its ultimate goal. Lorenzo's life was paltry compared to her true mission and, despite whatever hell she endured to restore him to Dimmsdale to annoy Timmy once more, Cosmo was the true objective. The thought cheered her considerably, since she'd entertained doubts in this level about delivering him and, were this real life, might have deliberated long enough to let him perish. Or would she? She no longer knew herself quite as well as she thought.
Scanning the area, she spotted a fire escape and, shattering the glass with a well placed punch that embedded shards in her fist (but oddly didn't pain her), she wended her way upwards. Outside, the fresh air battled with the smoke and smog to provide both relief and irritation. Rusted rungs threatened to drop her weight, but she clung to the railing desperately. One collapsed entirely, but since she doubted she'd be going down as well, she paid it little mind. With a single minded intensity, she slowly worked.
At long last, yanking herself up onto the rotting wood, she found herself helped not by Lorenzo, but her other self. The burning building vanished, replaced by her mind room once more. Exhaling shakily, coughing erratically, she wiped at her burning eyes. A pink flash flitted about the room while she collected herself, aided by the again invisible/imaginary wand.
"You have passed," she dictated and Wanda sighed in relief. "But there is one more task.
"You must face Eschcolex and Remy, for they hold the keys to Cosmo's soul."
Groaning, she collapsed onto her elbows again. Why couldn't she just sleep?