Author's Note: It's surreal. It really is. This part alone took me nearly a year because I lost interest, owned up to my responsibility, and then didn't again. But that's enough reminiscing. You'll hear more in my letter on DeviantArt to the fans.
For quite possibly the last time, Fairly Oddparents does not belong to me.
Chapter Sixteen: The End
Darkness always pervaded the void. Thus, when Wanda awoke, drained of both magic and emotional strength, the light battered her pupils. Sophie knelt beside her and, gently enveloping her in an embrace, positioned herself on the bed next to Cosmo. Nothing had changed in his physical state since her last venture, but since she knew Eschcolex and Remy would be keener now than ever to grab the lingering part of his soul she laid claim to, it relieved her to see his pale, clammy forehead and detect a very faint heartbeat. Clasping his hand tightly, she brought it to her lips and kissed it tenderly. The reaction occurred so abruptly, she at first didn't realize what was going on. A minute touch, hardly noticeable to anyone else, but his fingertips grazed her cheek. She smiled grimly- if those two wanted the rest of him, they'd have to kill her first.
Sophie uncovered a small, wicker handbasket and opened it, revealing bread, fruits, and jams. She'd about thirty bucks saved and promptly converted it to euros. Any other food she needed she relied on charity…or used Wanda's wand and invoked a spell. Slight fairy blood ran through her veins, enough to permit minimal magic. Yet the most miniscule mental chant to a fairy exhausted her, so she only relied on it as a last resort. Doing it once knocked her out for the duration of the day.
Smiling weakly, she offered her a Granny Smith apple and joined her on the bed. Blinking, she gazed at the pink lines connecting the two godparents. Not only had it thickened, it had also brightened. Uncomprehendingly, she gawked at Wanda, who smiled benignly and munched her apple thoughtfully.
"You're…" she wanted to say, "more whole," but it sounded nonsensical. Wanda nodded encouragingly, releasing Cosmo's hand to seize her goddaughter's. To Sophie, who barely received affection from her, the bewilderment multiplied.
"I'm better than when you first met me," she guided patiently, retrieving her wand to check on Timmy, Lorenzo, Tootie, Gary, Vicky, and Mark simultaneously. Timmy and his anti fairy self were having what appeared to be a very stilted conversation; Tootie and Gary were arguing animatedly while a phantom Cal shook his head and another unknown fairy merely smirked; and Vicky, about a month or less away from giving birth, sulked while her husband worked ardently. No one was murdering each other (Tootie looked homicidal, however), no one was in desperate need of her companionship, and all was about as peaceful as it got in that house.
Soothed, she sighed happily and glanced once more at her goddaughter. The wand jumped, indicating she wasn't the last creature to use it. Wands detected similar magical signatures (Cosmo, because of their telepathy, could utilize hers without too much difficulty), but Sophie's differed more than it was accustomed to. Like a skittish dog, it rolled over in her palm and whimpered, then fell silent. Wands had odd temperaments.
"Where did you get this food, sweetie?" she inquired gently, communicating nonverbally that she wasn't angry, just curious. Nonetheless, she innately cringed like she'd been rapped on the hand. Despite what she now saw, she still feared her.
"I, uh…" she searched the ceiling like a cue card would drop down and provide her the proper response. Naturally, none did.
"Internet?" she offered plaintively and, to her astonishment, Wanda burst out laughing. Not that her response was uproarious, but due to the stress combined with the absurdity, she found herself unable to stop. Sophie stared blankly, watching her godmother roll across the bed in mirth and clutch her sides. She'd never heard her laugh like this- it had an almost musical quality and was highly infectious. When both settled down, Wanda wiped a gleeful tear away.
"It's been a while since I heard that particular excuse," she replied, grinning.
Upon Sophie's bafflement, she added, "It was one of Timmy's favorite lines. People bought it, too."
Sophie wondered what ridiculous things he'd wished for and explained with that. Who on earth was thick enough to believe that every time? Sure, one could purchase a lot of things online, but come on. There was a limit somewhere.
"Now," she said seriously, "where did you really get this?"
Swallowing guiltily, she answered, "I might've…might've…"
In a rather small voice, she mumbled, "conjured it up."
Wanda's eyes widened and she glanced around the room. Because her eyes had been adjusting to the light, she'd missed the new decorations. Pink drapes hung over the mullioned windows; a warm, shaggy brown rug covered the stone floor; the bedsheets themselves had changed to pink pillowcases and green blankets; a portrait of a faerie boy with black hair, dark brown eyes, a spaded tail, and onyx, leathery, dragon-like wings. The boy grinned cockily, eyes sparkling mischievously. Though his countenance suggested dark magick, light clung to his black clothes and aura. He appeared to be rather young, and, when Sophie's eyes joined hers, she blushed at his aesthetically pleasing elven like features.
"You've been busy," she remarked, smirking. "Who's the faerie in the picture?"
"His name is Deborvak. I dunno what it means, but…" she trailed off, clearly embarrassed.
"I like the decorum," she replied, beaming at her. Warmth blossomed in Sophie's chest and she blushed profusely.
"I-I thought you w-would," she said, stammering in her excitement. "I mean, your room in the treehouse is sorta, you know…"
Wanda nodded, taking her aback once more when she hugged her tightly. The grin faded, replaced by a compassionate and pensive expression. She glanced into her eyes and, abashed, Sophie stared at the comforter. She wished mentally she'd cease blushing so hard- it started to vex her.
"I must talk to Jorgen about you. Even if we can restore your parents' memories, I think you'd be happier in Fairy World," she said and Sophie squealed, bolting upright and hugging her tightly, stealing her breath away.
"You mean it? But, how do you know it's gonna work? I don't have enough magick, do I? Can't I have my parents back and still practice magick? Do I really have what it takes?" she yammered and Wanda chuckled, reminded of Tootie's rambling.
"Let's just say he owes us quite a few favors," she responded, smiling. "As for the rest, we'll have to wait and see. I can't tell you off the top of my head how powerful Juandissimo's spell was. It might be irreversible, hun."
Sophie's spirits, as quickly as they'd risen, plummeted to the floor below. Stricken, she glanced at Wanda, nodding solemnly. Permanent? Why? All she'd ever wanted was someone to befriend her, make her days a little easier to live, and love her like her parents tried, but never quite accomplished because of their inability to truly understand her. In essence, she'd desired a companion, but what she'd received was nothing less than hell. She wanted to hate Wanda for what she'd inadvertently caused, but it wasn't her fault, nor was it in the small girl to despise people who carried no blame themselves. She wanted to hate Juandissimo, but what was the point in hating the dead? What was done was done. If her childhood was ruined by her fairy godparents (wasn't that ironic?), then she had to cope. Even so, all of this was a terrible burden to a nine year old who hadn't had it easy to begin with.
An arm wrapped around her and, wordlessly, she rocked her back and forth. Sophie, who had hoped she wouldn't cry, burst into tears. Hot and salty, they poured down her cheeks and soiled the sheets.
"We will make this right, Soph. Trust me. I'm your fairy godmother," she said and smiled weakly. Sophie had never heard a promise sound flimsier in her life.
Eyes met, followed by an impregnable silence and a heated, baleful stare on the part of a certain pink hatted brown haired boy. Lorenzo tapped his foot impatiently, longing to expunge what plagued him, yet avoiding it all the same. Naturally, Timmy's hostility only heightened his discomfort, an almost certain ploy on the teen's part. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard, and sought a place to begin. When five minutes passed with nary a sound, Timmy pushed against the kitchen table to stand, but Lorenzo bid him stay. This he did, glowering at the placemat and bidding it to catch fire. Naturally, because he was a human and not a fairy, it did not.
"Well?" he snapped, kicking him in the shin. Lorenzo hissed, icy cerulean eyes narrowing, but he did not capitulate to his desire to kick him swiftly elsewhere. Instead, like a cat, he curled his legs underneath him (with difficulty, given their length) and cast his sire a shrewd glance. As usual, Timmy trembled in barely concealable fury and ground his teeth finely. He was glad the telepathy bond had been shed after his rebirth- he did not fancy a glimpse of his inner thoughts. He somehow envisioned them to involve him burning merrily while Timmy danced heartily.
"Well, exact, proper enunciation lies in lending me time to elucidate myself," he retorted, yet forced amiability. The smile fixated on his face resembled a pumpkin's in October for all its naturalness. Most of those words sailed over Timmy's head and into the great beyond and, like his creation; he began to tap his foot, but far louder and more agitatedly. Lorenzo partook in a fantasy momentarily where he broke said foot and then dangled him upside down by that leg while he screamed. See, he wasn't the only one who mentally torture another. Nonetheless, if he verbalized his thoughts, Timmy would undoubtedly jump on him and attempt to throttle him, replaying the many fights and near seductions occurring in Wanda's absence. Wanda scarcely had the energy now to tell them to stop, much less interfere.
"Time's up," he snarled, pushing against the table again. "Whenever you feel like telling me you're about to murder Wanda again, do let me know."
"Quiet, fool. I have something important to tell you…and it does not involve the frach," he growled and at the last word, Timmy growled himself, strangely protective over the small fairy who had at least tried to help him out in the past two years even if this went greatly beyond her experiences as a godmother. The separation had given him time to evaluate her importance to him and, in spite of everything, he knew she was the only mother he had and, beyond his preferences for his maternal parents, probably the best. She didn't deserve his condescension, particularly when she had magic and he had none.
"Why should I believe you?" he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "In case you haven't noticed, you haven't exactly been sincere in your 'confessions'. You told me Cosmo and Wanda needed to be dead in order for my parents to return and, according to the What-If Spell, you only wanted them gone so you could keep me for yourself. You told me females weren't to be trusted and Tootie, despite all the shit I put her through, still loves me. You're wrong about everything and a murderer and rapist."
Recalling Tootie caused his heart to race, pants to constrict, and his palms to sweat. In between missions, her last one involving a Lorenzo counterpart that made him appreciate his godparents' relentlessness, she rested upstairs. If it weren't for his brashness in following her, she might never have forgiven him…or even survived her last mission. She might owe him her life, but he never brought that up. Indeed, he was grateful she'd let bygones be bygones, while he still gave himself a hard time for causing her to do all those things in her missions and just generally ruining her life.
"Where have you been the last two years?" Lorenzo replied, leaning his chair back and rocking it. Timmy watched the momentum and sincerely hoped it dispelled the anti fairy and he landed on his head, cracking it on the floor. He fought a snicker.
In the midst of his ruminations, an irritated mental message interrupted. He glanced immediately towards the nearly hidden stairs and the only person to enter his mind, Tootie. He'd be prepared to bet that scoundrel, Gary, had found a way into his house to pester Tootie. Damn imaginary boy, always trying to put the moves on his girlfriend. Couldn't he get the hint no one wanted him, least of all his creator?
((How could something that came out of you be so infuriating?)) Tootie sent, fuming. He sensed her vexation, but he bit back a laugh. At least she understood his views on him.
Still, she brought up a good point, he thought as he glanced at Lorenzo. Nothing good came out of his mind; everyone inevitably rebelled Perhaps he'd best not wish anything he thought was a good idea, since he'd been proven incredibly wrong. Then again, at this stage in the game, he'd just be glad to have both godparents alive and normal again.
((Because the two human-like creatures who did both want me dead? I never knew I hated myself that much,)) he replied, eyeing Lorenzo warily. The anti fairy scowled, recognizing the glazed look communicating telepathy. Slamming his fists onto the table, he jerked Timmy back to attention. Furious, he glared while his anti self snickered appreciatively.
((Either that, or you need to stop imagining such bad ideas. It's a good thing you're not the boy genius,)) she sent back. ((And I think it's because you treat parts of yourself so poorly, they snap.))
Lorenzo, losing patience, stopped rocking, shoved the chair back from the table, strode over, and gripped both sides of his head between his hands. He snarled at his sire and leaned close enough for their noses to touch. Timmy gagged, recoiling, but his grasp increased, to the point where he heard his cheekbones creaking and clamoring for release. He'd forgotten his inhuman strength, though it only made him keener to escape.
"Listen to me. This is important. Your girlfriend/lover/playmate can wait," he growled, dropping his hands to his shoulders and rattling him. His back struck the chair and sent a shockwave through his system.
"What?" he snarled. "You're pregnant? I knew Icky Vicky was contagious. Now I have to deal with your mood swings too?"
"Don't be stupid," he retorted. "While I realize asking you to act intelligent merits a new set of writers, I ask for you to suspend your idiocy for a few minutes. You might learn something."
Pausing dramatically, he scrutinized his surroundings and remembered Tootie holding him down while clutching Timmy's hands. He recalled burning Timmy's floor while constructing a weak magical acid; shaking Cosmo down in the treehouse; threatening Wanda in the basement; meeting Vicky in this very kitchen; being encased in the mirror on the staircase; spying on Timmy in his bedroom and carving up his face; sneaking peeks at Vicky in the basement, threatening her and the subsequent beating that Mark gave him for that; the agony of being exorcised; and then, of course, all of Timmy's memories as well. He never realized how seeped in history the smallest thing was, from the counter to the skillet upon the stove. Momentarily, his throat closed up and he shut his eyes, beckoning the past to fly away and permit him now to speak his piece. It did and, breathing shallowly, he continued.
"I'm leaving Dimmsdale, Timmy. Do not send any long search parties in my absence nor create another "The Other" in my lieu. This adventure has been long and perilous and now, it draws to a close. Do not immediately start sobbing brokenly," he said dryly, aware that if anything, his sire would shriek enraptured and throw a wild party. The notion stung, but he knew there was no chance of Timmy either returning his feelings or, minimally, sparing them. He braced himself for the impact.
The words penetrated Timmy's brain, but they entered rather sluggishly. He thought he'd heard him say "leaving Dimmsdale", but that was incomprehensible. Blinking dumbly, he mouthed his words in the hopes it'd further illuminate their meaning. Vanishing from his town would make him happy, an idea he'd sought against since his creation. Therefore, this had to be a trick. Yet he'd never bamboozled him this way- yes, he'd lied, but it was more a manipulation of the truth than completely incorrect. Nonetheless, why would he fabricate something obviously so important? Bewildered, his eyes swept the floor and eventually returned to him.
Five minutes of silence dragged on and Lorenzo rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if imploring the gods to grant him patience. He said nothing, however, preferring to let his words impact him in whichever way Timmy chose. To pass the time, he drummed his fingers on the wood, contemplated Wanda's fate at the moment, and what he might do after departing his life, essentially. The silence became unbearable, an oppression. He wished he'd speak, either affirming or rejecting his decision.
If Timmy cared, in the highly unlikelihood of that, he'd realize how much this pained him. Living elsewhere meant separating from his beloved and everything that had helped form him, not to mention his satisfaction derived from them. Why would anyone do that unless they had a very good reason? And yet, he did. It was time to put aside the past and allow him to live his life. If it meant Lorenzo was no longer part of the picture, then, what choice did he have?
"I…" Lorenzo began to break the hush, but trailed off, studying the ceiling and its intricacies before continuing. "I need to stop hurting you. I know there's no point in apologizing because you won't believe me. I also remaining here means I cannot control myself. For the sake of your sanity, peace, and salvaging your childhood, I must be gone."
The extraordinary news dumbfounded him and he sat, uncertain what to say or do or where to commence. Part longed to cheer, jauntily roll his hips and boast he'd never molest him again. Yet that part strangely remained subdued, bewildered by the implications. Wordlessly, he rose from his chair, pushed it back, marched out the kitchen door, dazedly mounted the stairs, opened his door, and flopped, spread eagle, onto his bed. Tootie would come. She had to. For now, he'd simply lie in wait.
"Fuck off," Tootie hissed, kicking Gary towards the door. The problem was (a), she'd been trying to throw him out for the past twenty minutes to no avail and (b), he'd entrenched himself in her room. She wanted to slug him, she really did. It might not solve anything, but it'd make her feel a lot better. Given the past few months, she was no stranger to the powerful urge to smack the hell out of someone until they figured out they were mistreating her or misrepresenting the situation. One aggravation per universe was enough for her, thank you very much. And look, both creatures were magical in nature. Coincidence? She thought not.
Since Timmy unearthed her secret, she'd managed to waylay Gary more often since he disliked running into his creator, particularly when they were in the middle of an 'interesting' interaction (a.k.a., making out). Nonetheless, the method wasn't foolproof, as was evident now. He needed her too, and Gary's refusal to 'go to hell in a handbasket' grated on every nerve. She wondered occasionally whether his propensity at disobliging her came from a desire to tick her off. If so, he'd certainly made the wrong choice, because provoking Tootie was like antagonizing a bit pull. No longer completely sweet, naïve, and gullible, she was still prone to snapping, regardless of her new patched relationship with Timmy. Perhaps he derived his reasoning from jealousy- he, after all, couldn't even catch the echoes of their conversations. Whatever the case, she'd dearly like to fling him out the second story window.
"Not a chance," Gary smirked and she did the only thing that came to mind- kneeing him in the crotch. He'd prostrated himself mockingly in front of her doorway, after all, and she'd positioned herself accordingly. It wasn't her fault his testicles got in the way, now, was it?
And, like a wounded animal, down he went, moaning and clutching his genitals. Lying on the carpet and writhing in pain, the image was too much. Throwing back her head, she burst into gales of laughter, naturally at his expense. Gary, too busy nursing his wounded pride and balls to complain, uttered gibberish. She smirked, stepping over him but 'accidentally' brought her foot too far back and kicked him upside the head and proceeded to Timmy's room. Her snickering filled the otherwise noiseless hall.
((You know that hurts like having a bull ram you into a tree, right?)) Timmy chided her and she chuckled. A bull? Well, dealing with his bull had made her want to ram him into a nearby tree, so why not? It wasn't her fault he was created with balls and not other, cleaner equipment. He should have chosen to be a girl.
((How do you know what I did?)) she responded, opening the door. ((All you heard were the cries of an injured ego.))
"Because I habitually feel his pain," Timmy said and, leaping off the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair to sniff the lilac shampoo she used. She reminded him more of a rare rose, surviving the tundra or desert. To behold her was to behold perfection, albeit marred slightly by her minute flaws. Yet those flaws were somehow less significant in light of everything she meant to him. To believe even one's flaws are beautiful is the mark of true love, alas, and Timmy had fallen badly.
Sighing happily, she spun and wrapped her arms around his waist. He'd gained weight at her admonishing and finally, had managed to look somewhat more like he had before last September, before Lorenzo connived him. The scars of his suicide attempts and general slashing had started to fade as well, but not nearly enough to comfort her. She'd told Wanda her suspicions and the two had confronted him one last time, forcing him to throw out all the razors and anything else he might use to hurt himself. Blades were dulled until she could trust him again.
((I love you,)) he murmured and his affection flowed into their link. She smiled, returning the emotion and nuzzling him. Maintaining open communication was the key to preventing any lapses, both in judgment or otherwise, and since no one else was around to keep an eye on him, it behooved her to care for him. She didn't mind, naturally, but now that she was the rock in the family, she comprehended Wanda's difficulties anew. Between Timmy and Lorenzo, she often had a handful.
Leading her to the bed, he held her close like a fragile porcelain figure, prone to breaking by the slightest ill wind. In his arms, her heartbeat mollified him like the radiant heat of her body. The two lay on his mattress and, twisting, she maneuvered herself so her head lay on his chest; he wrapped his arms around her possessively, as if daring Gary to intrude. Nonetheless, after his recent 'encounter', she doubted he'd be in a hurry to deal with her again. At least, she certainly hoped so. Unless he was a glutton for punishment.
((And I love you, Timmy. But something's up.)) She kissed his cheek and shut her eyes, diminishing the world until it consisted of just them. At peace, she listened his steady heart and clockwork breaths, rising and lowering her human pillow. They usually cuddled, his acquiescence, but she knew he secretly enjoyed it too. Months of desiring closeness only to shove it away turned him desperate for any sort of contact.
"Lorenzo…" he whispered and explained, ((he's leaving Dimmsdale, Toot. And that should make me happy. Or, at least, make me something. But it doesn't. I don't know why.))
Gnawing her lip reflectively, she contemplated the matter like it was a life or death situation. His breath tickled the top of her head and she smiled despite herself, wrapping her arms around his waist and running a hand along his back. Sometimes, she had to assert he belonged to her and this wasn't a crazy dream. What a nightmare it'd be in that case, but at least one part had worked out well. God, she loved him.
((You don't believe him, maybe?)) she put in after a few minutes. ((Or you're shell shocked?))
He said nothing and she plunged onward.
((He's put you through hell and you don't know what to expect anymore. He's tricked you in the past and, yet, if he is telling the truth, the concept of him missing is incomprehensible. He's molded your life negatively, yes, but he impacted you hugely. You've grown accustomed to him and you might disdain him, but you're used to his existence.)) she hypothesized and her only response was a blank look. Rolling her eyes, she tried to figure out how plainer she could express herself, but that wasn't the issue. He was failing miserably at imagining a world without Lorenzo.
((I know you'd rather jump off a cliff than keep him around; I'm just making a point.))
((Do you think I ought to ask him to stay?)) he blurted and slapped his forehead. Why would he think that, much less vocalize it? What was wrong with him? He didn't want him alive, much less in the same house. Was it guilt? Why should he feel guilty over someone who had caused him so much grief?
((I think you ought to do whatever you think is right. He's done enough damage to last a lifetime, but it's not for me to decide. He's a part of you, Timmy. He's your creation and that alone entitles you to decide his fate if you choose,)) she replied simply, opening her eyes, rising, and opening the window. A cool breeze permeated the room, but when she glanced out, she saw the ominously empty treehouse and swallowed hard, glancing away. Where was she? What could she be doing now? Would she return?
Her words resonated through his mind and he frowned, pondering this carefully. Other than their breathing, one could have heard a pin drop, it was so quiet. Tootie pivoted, glancing at him wordlessly but adding nothing. She'd done all she could, technically. The choice was his and his alone. No one could influence it any more.
((I think I need some time to mull it over,)) he sent finally, shutting his eyes. He fell asleep immediately.
One month, maybe less depending on if her water broke or not. And because the world was out to get her, the baby came early. Vicky had two weeks before her life changed forever.
"You…you won't die, will you?" Sophie asked agitatedly. She stroked Wanda's hair and hugged her tightly. A few minutes ago, she'd informed her she was going to in to retrieve Cosmo and defeat Remy and Eschcolex. It hadn't taken the nine year old very long to panic and now, she had to gently apprise of the notion that while she might not die, she also might never return. However, putting that mildly without further freaking her out was harder than she predicted. Already, the girl had a stranglehold. She awkwardly patted the top of her head and thanked evolution fairies needed less air than humans.
"I'll…" Lying came to mind, but those doe-like eyes distressed her. Disentangling herself, she clasped Sophie's hands and glanced at her urgently. Understand, she tried to send, that this is a life or death situation. Understand that though I love you and Timmy, who I'm going to have to visit next, I must do this or surrender Cosmo. Please forgive me.
"If I don't come back," she said, swallowing hard, "tell Timmy I love him and tell Tootie to contact Jorgen. She might grumble, but she'll know who you're talking about and she's the only person he has vested interest at the moment."
Sophie nodded, barely understanding much. Wanda hugged her tightly and smiled weakly, like she wasn't possibly marching off to her death. The girl paled considerably at the notion and suddenly hugged her painfully, pleading desperately. Wanda shook her head at each insistence and, holding up her wand, warned her not to interfere and that she'd return shortly after telling Timmy about this. After all, if she was going to die, he might as well know. Sophie lunged and landed empty handed on the bed beside Cosmo.
Wanda landed adroitly on her godson's bed and stroked his hair. In his sleep, the teenager moaned, but whether it came from a nightmare or a pleasant dream, she couldn't discern. She was loath to wake him, but she knew if she failed in her attempt to retrieve Cosmo and thus, never had another opportunity to speak with his godmother, he'd hate it. Tenderly, astringently aware this might be their last conversation; she shook him and called his name until he blearily awoke.
"Tootie?" he called and she shook her head, waiting for his eyes to focus. When they did, he sat up and embraced her. She permitted him a minute and then, pushing against him, she sat Indian style on the bed. Timmy blinked, taken aback.
"Wanda, what's going on? I thought you'd be looking for Cosmo-"
"I am. That's why I'm here. I thought…I thought you'd like to know that if I don't return from this sojourn, Timmy, I'm as good as dead," she choked out and his face ran through a range of emotions. Shock, dismay, fury, and protectiveness. He wrapped his arms around her like he could protect her from the world and its troubles. She let herself be held, though she began to tremble. The gravity of the situation had crashed down upon her shoulders now that she had time to think about it. She could die and leave Timmy a complete orphan, not to mention Sophie. Timmy must've sensed her thoughts, because he gripped her stronger still, a single tear trickling off his cheeks and into her hair.
Oh, don't cry, sweetie. You'll make me start, she thought disparagingly, biting her lip.
"Don't leave me, Wanda…please…" he whispered, too upset to be outraged. "There has to be another way. You can't die…you're all I have…"
He'd lost his parents twice, Wanda once before, and Cosmo. Now, he might never have Cosmo or his godmother, the only mother he had left? A lump of tears rose in his throat and he fought valiantly to keep from sobbing unabashed. She needed him to be strong, didn't she? But how could he consider that when his heart was breaking? It was such a big risk…there had to be another, less critical method. She just hadn't considered it. After all, why would she willingly walk to her massacre?
The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Wanda was a fighter, wasn't she? So she'd fight for a different spell or at least look it up, wouldn't she? He glanced into her somber pink eyes, eyes that for him had always shone compassionately (in her 'dark fairy' state, she'd rarely if ever beheld him). The seriousness within brought the truth crashing down sharply. She could die and she knew it. She also knew there was no other way, despite what he protested. She hadn't come here to hear his objections but as a courtesy and out of love. The lump doubled and he found it increasingly difficult to swallow. She loved him like he was really hers…
"Sport…there is no other way," she replied, standing to wipe his tears away. "And if I don't do it now, there won't be anything left of Cosmo to save."
So? What about me? I'm still here, Wanda…don't leave, he thought-whined, but his mouth seemed welded shut. Stay…I love you…
Throat constricted, he bent, kissed her forehead, and rocked her back and forth. She blinked, surprised, but oddly pleased. Why did it take a monumental occasion for him to affirm his feelings? Still, all good things must end and, grimacing, she slid out of his arms and stood, wand glowing. His eyes swam in tears and she fought the overwhelming urge to tell him 'everything would be fine' and 'don't worry'. But, in all conscience, like with Sophie, lying wasn't an option. Parting with him was more poignant than her scene with her goddaughter, simply because she was more attached and supported him through more strife and difficult situations.
"I love you, Timmy. And I always will. Remember that."
And, shutting her eyes, she recalled Sophie from Marseilles, deposited her in her room, and disappeared into the void.
Eschcolex waited in anticipation of the feast coming. He squeezed Remy's lifeless shoulders until they shattered, cried gleefully, and plunged himself into the void as well. First up, Remy's soul and, while it detained her, he'd relinquish the last parcel of Cosmo's soul bond to hers and then, acquire hers as well. It was a two for one sale on the fairies and he was ravenous. Licking his lips, he leered into the darkness and anticipated the tell-tale pink aura. This would be quite enjoyable.
Hugging herself, she mentally chanted that this would be the last time she journeyed into the void for the rest of her life, if all went according to plan. Conversely, if it didn't, she'd be stuck here. The thought induced shudders and, grimacing, she hoped the second version never came to pass. Shutting her eyes, she forced herself to focus on the blinding, binding green light that resonated with the bit of him she always carried. She honed in it after a few minutes, but its dullness shocked her. It flickered, faded, and then flickered again like a dying ember. Cosmo was dying here and if she didn't pull him out in time, both halves would suffer.
"Cosmo?" she called, but her voice dissipated. ((Cosmo?))
She probed the omnipresent connection, but she sensed nothing. Panicking, she spurted forward, at least, whatever resembled that. Spirits shone and then disappeared and, for a half second, she swore she saw Juandissimo trailing her. Anxiety renewed her speed; she sped ahead like a bat out of hell. Her heart thundered in her chest and though she'd long since learned how to combat nerves, she was unconsciously panicking.
She shut her eyes once more, attempted to remove any doubts, and a vortex sucked her into its clutches.
"Glad you could make it, faery," a voice cajoled and she brushed herself off, glancing around. Books towered, reaching the ceiling, barely visible in the darkness of the room. A fire in the fireplace provided the scant illumination, but otherwise, she'd entered a shadow world. She shivered, swallowing hard, and found that iron backbone she situated in dire emergencies. Steeling herself, she held up her wand (where had that come from?) and faced her opponent.
Cosmo, colors askew, floated before her. She gasped, gripping the wand tightly enough to splinter the wood. He chuckled a deep, demonic guffaw that sent her courage scurrying into a corner of the room to whimper pitifully. Her legs wobbled, but she never toppled nor retreated. Indeed, at this state, she wondered if she remembered how.
Sneering, wishing she contained half as much bravado as her voice, she snapped, "And who would you be?"
The Cosmo-like creature snickered, landing on the maroon shag rug. Extending his hand, he stroked her face, but she recoiled like he'd stabbed her. Sparks shot from her pink eyes and, were they the slings and arrows of misfortune he would have been mortally wounded. However, rather than be offended by her spurn, he cackled, spinning around and producing a black cape out of thin air. He grinned at her like a cat beaming at its latest prey and she shuddered involuntarily, but her eyes turned impassive and cool. The Wanda Juandissimo created did not back down from a challenge, especially from a man, be it fairy or otherwise.
"I'm your husband, Wanda," he replied in a voice that was far too chilly and inhuman to be his.
"You lie," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "I know my husband when I see and feel him."
The fire extinguished and, for a second, she thought she went blind. Then, burning merrily like it had never gone out, another burst of flames lit the room and, instead of Cosmo, she saw Juandissimo. Gritting her teeth, she bit back a snarl. Mind games. Mind games, so characteristic of demons. Who else would spend so much time deliberating these things? Well, Lorenzo, but he had entirely too much time anyway.
"Would you know me as well, mi amor?" the mock Juandissimo cried, reaching out to her. She held up her wand and he disintegrated, nothing more than ashes littering the floor. The fire extinguished again and, when it reappeared, Remy replaced his godfather.
The stilting way he walked, the undead look in his frigid blue eyes, and the jerkiness in his other movements told her this was the real thing. A light blue aura enveloped him and when he beheld her, she knew he lived and breathed artificially, imbued with his soul momentarily. The demon had dispersed, but his presence lingered. She couldn't pinpoint his location, but he was here, watching. Why? Why had he left his battle to his acolyte? What, he thought she'd succumb to Remy? Fat chance, not after she'd gone so far and done so much.
Yet where was Cosmo in all this? Where were they hiding him? Was he here at all or was this a ruse? Suspicions whipped through her mind and, grasping the wand Eschcolex had donated to her cause, she recalled the importance of patience. She also, was woefully unaware of the situation at hand. Her enemy knew more about her fate than she did and this made her very antsy.
"Your husband killed him, you know," Remy said petulantly, like she'd scolded him for taking a cookie out of the jar. She blinked, aware of her wings rustling and a sudden burst of telepathy shot down before she received the message. Dangerous things were afoot, but it fit- she was, after all, in the lion's den.
She ignored him and sought the location of the telepathy she'd weakly encountered. In all likelihood, Eschcolex was using him as a deploy and she'd enough of creatures putting her off, including her own second half. Holding up her wand, she cast a spell that dispelled all the dark and sent the room into staggering brightness. Remy howled, vanishing into the netherworld, never to be seen again. Wanda couldn't care less.
Wearing a black, hooded robe that obliterated his features, he descended from the ceiling and, between two scaly, skeletal fingers swung Cosmo like a pendulum. His green eyes opened briefly, his mouth moved to form "Wanda", and then he fell silent; horribly, painfully silent. All the color had drained from his face, now ashen, and his green hair hung limply, like the living dead. The part of him she possessed echoed distantly and quieted immediately. He was dying and so was she. Her legs buckled and, unable to grab anything, she tumbled onto her knees.
"Good to see a fairy paying obeisance," he called and his deep, sinister voice shook her to the very core. Cosmo's chest, which had been rising minutely, stopped entirely and the demon grinned, licking his lips. Wanda's heart stopped with her lover's and, then, painfully, restarted. No. It couldn't be…she couldn't be too late…
Timmy, surrounded by Sophie, Tootie, Lorenzo, and, strangely enough, Vicky and Mark, jumped off the bed and shook terribly. Tootie wrapped her arms around him protectively and Vicky prodded Wanda's body, clammy and cool to the touch. Sophie had managed to grab Cosmo from Marseilles and now, there was little difference in the two fairies' visage or status. To any outsider, for all extensive purposes, they could have been dead.
"You see, my dear, you're too late," he chortled, twirling Cosmo's twitching soul like a hunter waving his prized dead rabbit. The bile rose in her throat and she gulped, nauseous. Snorting at her discomfort, he flung him into the unseen walls and, along with the distinct thud as his head struck, a shimmering trail of blood accompanied. In the back of her head, a voice whispered, "mind games", but she disregarded it. Hopelessness consumed her and she hung her head, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.
"All that's left is that the last sliver you cradle," Eschcolex hissed and glided towards her. Woebegone, she glanced at Cosmo and pushed at their telepathic bond, but received static. Wait, static? That wasn't what happened before at all. Through the hood, she sensed the demon leering and, stumbling backwards; she waved her wand once more, this time willing all shadow tricks, games, and misconceptions away.
The fire turned green. Stacks of books dematerialized, contorting into comfort viridian couches; a jade lamp shone brightly on a picture of her; unlike the insurmountable piles where the ceiling was assumed but not visible, a starry moonlit displayed itself overhead. Relief flooded through her and, smiling weakly, she rested a hand on one of the couches. Eschcolex, retreating from the feebly cackling emerald blaze, backed into a statue of her and, to her astonishment, she burst out laughing at the absurdity. She was rewarded with a glare.
"Where is it?" Eschcolex growled, advancing on her. "I know you have the remnants of his soul, now give them up."
"Not if my life depended on it," she replied, smiling. "And especially not when we're in Cosmo's mind room."
Conjuring a maze in the hopes it'd distract him, she began chanting a spell to steal his victims' souls and bring them out into the open. What truly finishes a demon is not particularly poignant magic or even light- it's the removal of its prey, because a demon never fully digests its food. It relies on stolen powers to nourish itself and can never quite get enough. When the creature takes their magic back, bereft of power, a demon fades into oblivion. But she wasn't doing this just to destroy him- she needed her Cosmo back.
"Frach," he roared, enraged and escaping easily. She just prayed she'd finish her spell before he stopped her.
"(Wrongfully acquired magick, may you tear into the very being that tore into you)
"(Treat him with the same courtesy and respect displayed before)"
"(Give the devil his due)"
"(And ensure he haunts this world nevermore!)"
At the last word, Eschcolex lunged, intending to tear her limb from limb, but a rainbow poured out and, like maggots on a piece of rotting flesh, reduced him to a cloak in a matter of seconds. All except one, who glided over to her and smiled serenely. Like she'd thought when she'd first met him; he had a gorgeous smile.
"Hey, Wanda."
A month passed, Vicky's son was born, and, holding two odd muffins and one normal Fairyversary Muffin, Tootie stared out at the treehouse. Cal and Daniela, restored to full life, floated over her shoulder. Daniela twirled, unaccustomed to being a godmother or, indeed, life in general, and smiled, unable to stop. She hugged Cal tightly enough to cut into his ribs, but his eyes were on his goddaughter, not her. He wore an expression grave enough to match the reasoning behind the muffins adorned with black icing and reeking of blood and death.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Tootie?" he asked sternly. "These muffins were intended for your wishes, not your lover's or Sophie's."
"I'm positive," she replied softly, because even if she desired something else, in her heart of hearts, she knew this was the only opportunity to change anything and make at least two people she cared about happy.
Picking up one Death Muffin and wincing at the grotesque taste of chewing something resembling a dead body, she called, "I wish Timmy Turner's mother back to full life."
With a small pop, she appeared on the lawn and scratched her head in bewilderment. She glanced around, but Tootie ignored her. Taking another bite of the second muffin and cursing the foul taste in her mouth, she wished another person back to life. At least after this, the muffins would lose their magical potency and she could throw them out. She wanted to plunge toothpaste and mouth wash down her throat to forget the wretched flavor.
"I wish Timmy Turner's father back to full life."
He too popped up, blinking and breathing harshly, remembering his time as a ghost. She smirked, but shut the blinds to block out the possibilities she'd erased. A tear trickled down her cheek and she drew a ragged breath before taking a bite out of the Fairyversary muffin.
"I wish Sophie's parents remembered her and she could live with them again if she wants to."
And, then, it was done. Miserable and wailing despite herself, Tootie flung herself into her bed and buried her face in the pillows to sob.
Knocking on the door, he received no answer but strode in uninvited anyway. Sitting beside his beloved on the bed, he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. Tootie sniffled, but otherwise paid him no mind. Timmy, nonplussed, caressed the small of her back and those little hairs on the back of her neck. She'd stopped crying to stare dully into the pillow.
((Go outside,)) she sent, not trusting herself to speak. ((Your parents are waiting.))
Stunned but aware she couldn't lie in telepathy, he managed a 'huh' until she rose, shoved him towards the window, showed them in the yard, snarled, and pushed him out the door. After a few minutes deliberation, she followed, pulling on an autumn jacket. It was rather chilly out.
Timmy grinned, dashing out the front door to hug his parents, but stopped to glance at her. Though she was dejected, she offered him a plaintive smile and shrugged helplessly. They both understood she'd sacrificed her happiness for his sake and, after accepting a profuse thank you, Tootie turned away. Watching him with his parents was simply too painful.
To say everything following was a fairy tale ending would be inaccurate and unfair. Thanks to their rejuvenation process, Cosmo and Wanda no longer had to be kept a secret from Timmy's parents, which was one less burden. Vicky and Mark moved out with their son Nicky (short for Nicolas) and Lorenzo was never seen again, presumably in Boston (at least, that was what Wanda told Cosmo when she checked up on him). Sophie, after a lengthy period, decided to stay with both her parents and Wanda, since she'd grown fond to the pink fairy. Thus, on the weekends, she returned via magic to learn how to further her powers and visit everyone else.
Gary eventually gave up and left town too, presumably for a place where imaginary friends were appreciated. No one really asked other than Wanda, anyway. Timmy was glad to be rid of him and, after seeing everyone else off that troubled him, he really couldn't care. One less problem for him.
Everyone whose souls escaped Eschcolex returned to the void to spend eternity wandering. At least in their forgetfulness, disturbed spirits like Remy could find a semblance of peace.
And Tootie? Thanks to a rapping on the hand by someone more powerful than Jorgen himself, she received compensation for her selfless actions. While her parents couldn't communicate daily on the same level as Sophie's, Nicky's, Timmy's, or Cosmo and Wanda, they were granted the power to follow her as spirits and watch over her.
Leaning against the windowsill and watching Timmy's father lob a snowball at his son, she repeated the phrase so oft heard in the past few months but true nonetheless.
"It's finally over."
Fin
The Other Saga (Complete)- 1/06/04 to 2/01/06
TOS Part One- 1/6/04-2/16/04
Part Two- 3/14/04- 5/15/04
Part Three-5/23/04- 12/29/04
Part Four 2/05/05- 2/01/06
Original conception- June 2003