A/N: Just realized that the first chapter never stated this, but they're in France right now. Yep.

Chapter II: Sounds Like A Personal Problem

It was really dark—pitch black to be precise, but to be technical instead, it actually only appeared that way. Cinderella couldn't see anything because she no longer had eyes. She couldn't really freak out about that because she also had no mouth or throat to scream with. She was a pumpkin. An orange, inanimate gourd that was rarely seen outside of a farm, some dish, or in part of a wimpy type of latte on any month other than October—or November if you account for the lazy people.

Charming's demeanor resembled the pumpkin's. He was speechless, and stood dumbly, not moving, with his phone held in his hand as he gazed at the vegetable on the floor where his latest potential conquest had once stood.

Did that really just happen? He wondered. It could have been a clever—though notably quite unorthodox—trick, placing a bunch of random clothes and a pumpkin down as she ran from the room, all in the fleeting moment when he had looked down at his phone to navigate to the contacts page—No,it was ridiculous, and probably impossible...but what else could have actually happened? An adult woman turning into a pumpkin? It was absurd, though its odd occurrence at the exact second of midnight was very curious, but clearly coincidental, of course. Magic isn't real. It's the sad truth of the world. Sure it is, Charming. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

— —

He honestly wasn't sure what the hell he planned to do with a random pumpkin in the middle of spring, but the fleeting chance that the orange gourd that he was attempting to furtively hide under his arm might actually be Cinderella prevented him from slipping it into the kitchens as an anonymous present to be made into a future pie. At the same time, he wasn't really sure what he would do later if she were to somehow change back into a person. He wasn't prepared for how heavily the certainty of that revelation would fracture his understanding of reality and the universe, and so, in honor of what may have been Cinderella's last words, he acquired her address from the guest list with the help of a little thing called Google and placed the pumpkin on the doorstep of the house he was led to. Whatever was to become of that pumpkin, he no longer wanted to know.

— —

Whether or not pumpkins can actually sleep is a hard if not impossible question to answer, but upon awakening, Cinderella felt well-rested, though also quite sore. She frowned as she blinked sleepily and looked down at the concrete ground, noticing that it was very cold outside against her bare naked skin.

Bewildered terror overtook her, and she was entirely awake now. Becoming conscious of her nudity, she covered herself as she ran around to the gate that led to the back of the house, grabbed the key from its hiding place under the stone path leading to it, and swiftly unlocking and shutting it behind her before sighing in relief. She then nearly screamed in abhorrent embarrassment at the sight of a form that sat on a bench in the sizeable backyard. Upon realizing that the figure was not only passed out, but was also her clearly incompetent and apparently alchoholic fairy godmother, all of her self-conscious thoughts were eradicated as pure rancor took charge of every fiber of her willowy being.

"Hey!" She yelled, roughly shaking the dozing and snoring old woman when she didn't wake at the sound.

"Zwha? Huh? Hey yourself! What're you..." She shielded her eyes from the virgin morning sun, "Agh fuck, that's bright! What's the spell for that... Flippity, woppity...buh...?"

"Hey! I'm talking to you, Fairy!"

The extremely hungover woman finally noticed the enraged blonde before her, and she smiled dumbly, "Ah! My dear Cinderella! How was the ball?"

"A fucking nightmare, thanks to you!"

"Whaaat? But I got you the dress! The limo! I even gave you a chauffeur for it—bippity, boppity boo and all that don't you remember, dear?"

"Bippity boppity bullshit's what it was! Do you have any idea where I've been for the past several hours?"

"Well...No."

"Neither do I because I was a fucking pumpkin!"

The godmother cringed, "Ooh..."

"Exactly."

"I'm so sorry dear, I must have miss-said something with your spell, I had a few beers last night. Might've been 'bippity, boppity, burp" or something; magic is very tricky, you see. It requires lots of focus and coordination."

"Then why the fuck were you drinking?"

"I wasn't drinking, dear, I was already drunk!"

Cinderella's fists clenched and shook as she closed her eyes, wanting so badly to punch something straight through the moon, "Motherfucking-" She grabbed the fairy by the collar of her dress and dragged her up to look her dead in the eye, "You are going to make this up to me right now or so help me..."

"Ok, ok! Calm down, sister—here, why don't you put some clothes on first," she picked up her wand and swirled it around, "beppity, lopsity, loop!" A marble vase that stood next to the bench that she sat on rose into the air gently before suddenly rocketing across the yard to explode against the fence into doves, most of which died on impact with the wooden barrier. "Oops! I must be hungover still. Maybe there's a spell for fixing that-"

"No!" Cinderella smacked the old woman's wand from her hand, "No more magic, please! At least until you're sober."

The fairy spotted an unopened beer can on the ground amidst all the frighteningly large amount of empty ones, "That might be awhile, dear- oh!"

The can burst as it bounced away, kicked by Cinderella's naked foot. "Hey!"

Cinderella's hands moved to her hips defiantly. "No more alcohol for your sorry ass until you fix this!"

"Fix what? The pumpkin every night issue or the damage control for the ball?"

Cinderella's eyes widened in panic, "Wh- d-did you say every night?"

"Well yeah, that's what bippity, boppity, burp does—I think—it swaps items in accordance with the cycle of the sun and moon. I told you, magic is tricky. One wrong bit of inflection here or there and the entire thing comes out different. There's a lot of focus needed for it like I said."

"Well, then you'll need to undo the spell! Surely there's a counter incantation or something, right?"

The godmother shrugged, "Well you can't technically undo a spell, per se, but you can create a counter spell to nullify the effects, though that always gets messy and a little...glitchy sometimes. Not to mention that I also..." she grimaced, "Uh oh."

"Oh god, what the hell now?"

"To do the counter spell I need to restate the old spell exactly," she muttered.

"So?"

" I burped during your incantation, Cinderella, which probably explains why the whole pumpkin problem starts at midnight...or something. I don't know. In addition to the other components of the counterspell, I'd have to recreate that burp perfectly, or else the discrepancy could cause...complications."

"What kind of complications? I doubt they'd be that bad."

"Well...in the best case scenario, you'd only be a pumpkin for a few minutes at some particular point of the night, and in the worst case scenario you'll have some sort of monstrous and entirely different problem that could literally crop up at any time, it might even be years from now. It's either that or you'd just die instantly. The latter's quite likely, actually."

"Fucking hell..." Cinderella croaked and dropped onto the bench, burying her face in her hands as she began to sob pitifully.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't cry...here, take this," she dug around in her purse and pulled out a long, thin strip of official looking paper.

Cinderella looked up and stared at it, confused, "Is this a plane ticket?"

The godmother shrugged, "It's a sort of voucher for one I suppose. One way ticket from here to Los Angeles, California. America."

Cinderella's jaw dropped in awe as she held it with trembling, delicate but calloused fingers. She looked back up at the fairy, "Are you serious?"

She nodded, smiling, "It's the least I could do, dear, and it's not magic either! I may just be an old, immortal, magic-wielding drunk, but I'm still your fairy godmother, and I do care about you, Cinderella. Getting away from this place, especially from your stepmother, would probably be for the best."

Cinderella blushed as she bowed her head and clutched the key to her salvation to her bare chest as she smiled sincerely, "Thank you, truly." She suddenly felt somewhat embarrassed by her previous outburst, "And I'm sorry for getting so angry with you."

"Anger is an emotion, dear, and is a part of being human. On top of that, your predicament is really my fault; you were entirely justified, my dear." She returned Cinderella's sweet smile but lurched with wide eyes before vomiting all over the grass and beer cans, "Ugh. Sorry."

Feeling somewhat disheartened by the undignified interruption and also rather sympathetic towards her good-intentioned fairy godmother, Cinderella merely shook her head and walked away into the house, planning to put on some clothes, pack her few belongings—including her pet rats—and head out for a taxi and the airport before anyone else awoke.