"Cosmo!" I call cheerfully as I begin dragging my things into the hall, "I'm back!"

A green head pokes out inquiringly from within the kitchen, and I wave cheerfully. "Morning!"

A warm smile graces his face. "Wanda! You're home!"

He trundles out into the hall and grabs my bags after giving me a rib-crushing hug, clearly intent on hauling them upstairs.

I grab one of the heavier pieces of luggage when he's not looking and follow him upstairs, laughing with him while he tries to act tough.

He tosses me an annoyed glance over his shoulder. "Oh, shut up," he scolds. I can't help but grin. I love being home.

"How's Timmy? Are his grades any better, I hope?"

A sad smile flits across my husband's face. "Not quite, I'm afraid."

I sigh and shake my head. "He'll fail this year if he doesn't get his act together."

Cosmo shakes his head as he deposits my things on the bed. "To be truthful, I can't say that he really cares about it."

I roll my eyes. "Of course not. His games and all his new friends come first, but he's never going to get in a good university by playing games."

Cosmo pauses and puts down the suitcase he was going to put away. Then he turns to me, and there's something strange in his eyes. "Sometimes... sometimes I wonder if he's even going to live long enough to think about that sort of thing."

I drop the pajamas I'm holding, sudden terror shooting down my spine. What the-? "Cosmo?" I manage to ask, feeling myself tremble. Timmy...?

Cosmo looks away. "Wanda... there's alot I haven't told you in my letters." He pauses, tugging thoughtfully at his sleeves. "Things that were better left undisturbed have been awakened - and Timmy is at the heart of it all."

"What do you mean?" I whisper numbly. It should sound just like nonsense... but Cosmo can be wise when he wants to be.

He sighs heavily. "I can't explain it all - even Timmy isn't certain. And that damn other of his-"

I seize on the oddest bit of that sentence. "Other?"

He glances at me, a deep frown curving his face. "Well, to begin with... no. Timmy is... no, that doesn't make sense either." He sighs deeply and shakes his head. "But... I think there's something you should see."

I just blink at him, puzzled, as he motions me to poof into Timmy's room. He poofs in first but then comes back for me.

"It's safe. Come on in and see what Timmy has been doing."

And with that, we both poof into the room. At first all I see is the room. Mostly neat, with a few random games scattered about and his book bag lying haphazardly against his desk. I frown at the carelessness - will he ever grow up? - and absently start inspecting the bookshelves, which have a thin layer of dust covering them.

Cosmo follows me and strides forward quickly, blocking my view of the bed.

"What you need to see is right here," he murmurs cryptically, tapping on the rumpled covers with a delicate finger.

I abandon my quest to see what my boy has been reading and walked over, feeling a prickling sensation run down my skin. Something is... strange about all this. Very, very strange, even for Cosmo.

Cosmo gives me a sad smile and steps deliberately out of the way.

My godson, my little Timmy, is lying sound asleep on the bed, wearing a set of pajamas that are covered in stars. Such an innocent little angel...

And then I realize that he isn't alone.

"Who is that?" It comes out as a whisper even though I feel like I'm shouting.

Cosmo rests a heavy hand on my shoulder and stops my hands from reaching out to tear my child away from the grip of this stranger in his bed. "Him?" My husband lets out a sardonic chuckle. "He's just a boy like any other. Just a child who was forced to grow up too fast."

"What is he doing with Timmy?" I mumble thickly, still staring. Black. All in black, bearing an uncanny resemblance to my godson - almost looking like a fallen angel.

There's a sort of quiet rage in Cosmo's voice as he replies. "Sleeping."

But why in Timmy's bed? "What's his name?"

Cosmo's hand tenses on my shoulder. "He has many, but Timmy just calls him 'Nega'."

"Nega?" Who would name a child 'Nega'? But... somehow... strangely... it seems to fit.

My husband snorts disgustedly. "The darkness to Timmy's light."

I don't understand. None of this makes any sense. Nothing at all. "Why does he look like Timmy?"

Cosmo almost snarls when he speaks. "Don't you remember that one day? When he made that awful wish? He is our godson's other half."

I blink dazedly and turn to look into his smoldering eyes. That doesn't make sense. Other half? "You don't like him?" I ask hesitantly, trying for a bit of normalcy. This isn't a good sign, nor is the fierce glower he's fixing on that boy.

"I hate him." There's so much venom in those three words that I'm taken aback. Cosmo's usually so gentle and carefree...

But still - if he hates him so much, why is he letting him sleep over? "Then why...?"

"Because!" he snaps, then pauses and lowers his voice, and the venom is gone, replaced by a kind of hopeless bitterness. "Because... Timmy loves him."

My heart freezes in my chest. He can't mean that - Timmy wouldn't... couldn't... "Timmy isn't... I mean, he's not..."

Cosmo shakes his head sharply. "He liked girls, before. Remember Trixie and Tootie? But..." he sighs heavily, waving a careless hand at the bed, "Now all he sees is this boy."

I can't believe that. I won't. Timmy is innocent. But I have to ask. "They're... dating?"

Another sigh, rich with disgust. "Much too mild a word for it. They're," he cringes, "Lovers."

No! "You can't mean that!" I blurt out, clutching my hand to my chest.

Cosmo just nods his head at the bed. "Timmy is... that overwhelming innocence of his - it's true, yes, but deceptive. I've seen the way they kiss. And besides - look at them. Can't you tell? They've slept together for at least two months now."

But... but... "But Timmy's only sixteen!"

The look of long suffering on my husband's face tells me all I need to know. "His darkness is... was only sixteen too."

The boy? "Was?" I glance back - well, he certainly seems quite normal, if uncannily similar to my son. He's breathing normally and looks like any other teenager who's sleeping away a Sunday morning.

Cosmo's expression turns cold. "It's not my story to tell. You'll have to ask Timmy, although I doubt he'll tell you the full truth of the matter. He hasn't even told me all that he knows, I'm certain of that."

"What truth?"

The coldness melts into a sad smile. "About him. About his darkness. About everything."

Everything? What's everything? And, "Why is he sleeping in Timmy's bed?"

Cosmo shrugs, going cold again. "Because Timmy is."

So he just sleeps over randomly? Strange behavior... "What about his family?"

"Timmy is all he has."

That poor child! "Is he an orphan?"

Cosmo hesitates. "Of sorts."

No wonder then, that he stays here. It makes a little more sense now, but is still quite strange. "Where did he come from?"

There's an odd solemnity on his face. "From the darkness of Timmy's heart."

I blink in shock. What did he mean? "How did Timmy meet him? He vanished after the wish had taken its toll."

Cosmo tosses his head back and laughs bitterly. "Destiny."

That's not an answer, but I have a dozen questions to ask. "Where does he live?"

Cosmo shrugs. "Here."

Here? "But the only other bedrooms are in our castle. Has he been living in there?"

Another shake of the head. "No. In here, with Timmy."

Huh? "But..."

"They share a bed," Cosmo points out unhappily.

But that still makes no sense! "And the rest? Two teenage boys in the same room always cause a huge mess!"

Father shrugs. "Nega-Timmy owns very little."

That makes sense, being an orphan, but even orphans have some precious items.

I still don't understand any of this! "What grade is he in?"

A snort. "He doesn't go to school, as such."

All right, so some teenagers don't go to school. That's all right, I suppose. "Where does he work?"

"He doesn't, as such."

This is making less and less sense as we go along. "What does he do?"

An odd half smile flits across Cosmo's face. "Terrible things. Wonderful things."

I'm completely lost now. "What do you mean?"

Cosmo shakes his head. "It's complicated. Only Timmy can explain... if he even knows how."

Timmy. I turn my gaze back towards him, noting the soft curve of a smile on his lips, the easy way he's cuddled up against the boy. "...he looks happy."

Cosmo gives a soft sigh of acknowledgment. "I know. And that's what hurts the most."

I'm so damnably confused. "What do you mean?"

Cosmo sighs deeper. "You'll see it eventually... they're beautiful together, aren't they?"

I blink. Timmy is sprawled out over the bed, head resting on this other boy's side, one arm tossed out to the side, the other threaded together with the other boy's. The other boy is curled up on his side around my godson, one slender arm caught in between Timmy's, the other lying protectively across his chest.

Beautiful? Timmy has always been a lovely child... but somehow I know that isn't what Cosmo means. Cosmo is thinking of the carelessly graceful contrast of milky pale skin against a deeper shade of gold, of the delicate way their shining bangs tumble over their dozing features, of twin messy crowns of ruby-touched obsidian and burnette hair, of the gentle feeling of endless comfort that seems to curl around them. Beautiful? Breathtakingly so.

"Yes..."

Cosmo shakes his head thoughtfully. "And yet so terrible at the same time."

"What do you mean?"

Cosmo's calm emerald eyes lock on mine. "You'll see, Wanda. You'll see."

Two sleepy teenagers tangled around each other? And one of them my favorite godson?

I bite my lip as I slowly exit the room, tossing an anxious glance over my shoulder. I don't want to believe Cosmo, but... he's sharing a bed with another boy, sharing an intimacy abandoned since early childhood with a boy his own age. He's so vulnerable like this...

Timmy, my godson, what have you done?

It's early afternoon, and my Timmy has finally woken up.

"Wanda!"

From the brightness of his smile and the tightness of his hug, I have to wonder if Cosmo isn't perhaps overreacting a bit. He's still my little boy, regardless of what my husband thinks he's doing. Isn't he?

That beautiful blinding smile flashes up at me - and I can't help but wonder what it is that he's been hiding.

If Cosmo knows, then why is the other boy not here?

But I don't ask questions, I just smile for him and help him get ready for his morning.

He's run into his bathroom for his shower.

I whirl around and pin a glare on Cosmo. "Where was the other one?"

Cosmo gives me a cool look. "Back in Timmy's mind, I guess."

What the hell? "Cosmo..." I growl warningly.

"You've noticed him talking to himself before, haven't you?"

I pause. "Yeah..."

He gives me a hard look. "That other boy is much more than just a boy. He's what Timmy was talking to when you thought he was talking to himself. He's what was making Timmy so distracted those many times. He's what got Timmy into this mess in the first place!" he slams a fist against the wall in frustration, and I jump backwards.

"What...?"

"Nega. Nega-Timmy. The darkness to Timmy's light. Call him what you will, that's what Timmy unleashed. And I hate myself for encouraging him to do it."

"Cosmo..."

He gives me a long, weary look and backs up. "Just ask Timmy to coax him out. He'll come, and then you'll see what he is."

"What is he?"

He pauses on his way out of the room, regarding me with a pensive, thoughtful air. "Everything that our beloved godson is not."

He comes out of the bathroom again, his pink hat on top of his head, dressed in black and pink and wearing a smile brighter than the sun, and I can't help but hesitate before I call him nearer to the bed.

He bounces in with his usual exuberance, and I can't help but feel that I'm going to utterly kill his mood. But still... "Timmy, Cosmo told me a little bit about what has been happening since the last time I saw you. He didn't give me any details, though, so could you...?" And I wave a limp hand hoping he would get it.

The strangest expression flickers across his face for a moment. He pauses and sinks down into a beanbag chair, biting his lip as he glances shyly over at me. Then he looks down a little before whispering something.

A flash of light - dazzling enough that I have to blink stars from my eyes, and now there's a slender arm draped carelessly over my godson's shoulder.

"Wanda," Timmy says softly, settling back against the beanbag, "This is my darkness."

And my godson's shadow gives me a sly smirk, ruby eyes gleaming with calm expectation from beneath long dark lashes.

...the child really is quite remarkably darkly beautiful. To be so close to my godson, and yet so completely his opposite... what must it be like, to live to contradict another?

Timmy's fidgeting uncomfortably, but hasn't made any move to shove away Nega's arm. The expression on Nega Timmy's face is completely impassive. Is he really as cold as Cosmo supposes?

Cosmo claims... but no, not my Timmy. Not my favorite godson. He's sixteen, and not of the disposition to... to sleep around, is he?

I can't help but eye his clothes. Timmy's always been fond of a style I don't much like, but maybe, just maybe...

"Wanda?"

And I paste on a smile and nod and greet the shadow child as if he were Timmy's new best friend, and tie down the sickness in my stomach and the slow terror that's begun gnawing at my brain.

It's been three days, and I've made my decision. That boy is the most bewildering creature I've ever met - next to my godson, that is, and it makes wonderfully wretched sense, doesn't it?

They click. Like halves of a puzzle, they click, but the puzzle would be better off left unsolved, the mystery better clouded, the darkness better without the light. The past should be dead and gone - not stirring from its slumber to wreak havoc upon the waking world.

And my godson stands at the heart of it all.

I would not wish to be him - yet in daily life he seems so ignorant of his destiny. But at times he seems so keenly aware of it - how can he live such a life? How can he stand it?

Timmy just shrugs when I pose the question to him over a quiet brunch. "I'm all right," he says softly, looking the other way. "We're just fine."

"Fine? How can you be fine?"

A soft, sad smile flits across his face, and I suddenly realize how quickly he's grown up. "You just don't think about it too much, or it could drive you mad. Chasing destiny down is no big thing when destiny comes knocking at your door every other Tuesday."

I take a calming sip of my tea and try to force down the uneasiness that sparks in my chest at his quiet acceptance. "That's it? No questions, no regrets?"

He frowns into his soup. "I didn't say that. There are a thousand things I should have done better, a million things I still don't understand, a billion questions that nobody knows how to answer. Even so..." he trails off into a contemplative silence that's very unlike him, and I wonder how often he's brooded upon it.

He's quiet and alone now, so I think it's safe - but I don't know how he'll react. Still, I have to try and convince him to leave the one person I think he loves more than anyone else in his world.

God, I hope I'm ready for this.

I take in a deep breath. "And what about your darkness?"

He blinks, startled, before an unconsciously guarded expression crosses his face. "What about him?"

"How does he feel about this?"

Timmy relaxes minutely and absently caresses his own sides, eyes going blank and thoughtful - oh damn, what if he uses that bond of theirs? Can Nega hear whatever Timmy does?

"He's... accepted his fate," Timmy murmurs slowly, "He wants to keep me safe. I guess... I guess that's all that really matters to him."

Ah. "So... he cares for you?"

A soft flush tinges his features, and he looks away shyly. "He's my other half, Wanda. He doesn't really have a choice in the matter." But embarrassment drips from his words, and they ring false.

"You know, I don't think Cosmo cares for him much."

Timmy bristles. "Nobody asked him to," he mutters sullenly, still looking away.

"Do you know why that might be?"

He gives me a suspicious glance from underneath his lashes. "Does it matter?"

Does it matter? Does the fact that you've been sleeping with a psychotic spirit matter? Does it matter that you've been slipping farther and farther away from reality? Does it matter that you only talk to Cosmo and I when we directly address you? Does it matter that I found you and your darkness nestled together on the couch at three in the morning watching horror movies when you had school in four hours? Does it matter that you're failing three classes? Does anything matter to you anymore?

"It matters when my godson is spending all of his time with a murderer!"

His head snaps up and his eyes flare with a strange light. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he exclaims, shoving the remains of his breakfast away.

"Don't I? You can't tell me he hasn't killed people before!"

"It was self-defense!" he snaps, spine straightening.

I can't believe this! "How is killing an innocent a defensive maneuver? Timmy, don't you understand? He's dangerous!"

"Don't you think I know? Don't you think I know that better than anyone?" he hisses venomously, eyes narrowing.

I don't think I've ever seen him this angry. I can fight fire with fire, Timmy. I will make you see sense whether you want to or not! "How many?"

"What?" he blinks, confusion swirling into the mix of indignation and frustration that fills his voice.

I slam my palm against the table and glare into his eyes. How can he still look so innocent? "How many people has he killed?"

"It doesn't matter!"

Timmy, are you insane? "Yes it does! He should be in jail!"

His slender hands are clenched so tightly around the edge of the table that I'm surprised it isn't cracking. "He was protecting me!"

Protection? "Does protecting you mean that he has to kill anyone who tries to hurt you?"

He leaps off the chair, meeting my gaze angrily. "To him it does! You don't know how he thinks, what he knows - you don't know what it's like for us!"

Us - again with the us. My godson is not an us! "You need to get away from him."

An expression of supreme disgust crosses his flushed face, and he recoils sharply. "No! God, what are you thinking? He's my darkness! I can't, and even if I could, I wouldn't!"

This is insane! "Look at you! Why are you defending him?"

"He's a part of me! Why are you attacking us?" he shouts back.

Oh, for the love of God! "Why do you keep saying us?"

"He's my soul mate! We're... we belong together, why can't you get that?"

"Why can't you understand that he's... not at all right! He's..."

"He's my other half," he says softly, abruptly undermining everything that I was attempting to say. "He's everything that finishes me. What's wrong with that?"

"...everything. Timmy, sweetie, he's all wrong for you. You have to know that."

"No. No, I don't know that. And neither do you. But I know what he's done," he whispers, low and brittle, voice catching. Unshed tears are gleaming in his eyes.

"How can you just agree with that?"

He slams the chair back against the table, and for a moment I'm stunned by the unconscious grace and ferocity in his movement. The delicate turn of his wrist, a light-footed leap, and already he's halfway across the kitchen and glaring at me from beneath rumpled brown bangs.

"You don't understand," he hisses, visibly tensing. "You don't and you can't ever. You never did before - so don't try now. Just don't!"

"I will not live under the same roof as that murderer!"

Timmy's back straightens and his lips firm as he draws himself upright, and I can't help but think of a vengeful angel standing on the edge of eternity, oddly bathed in the warm light streaming in from the living room. Heaven or hell?

His words are simple and concise when he does speak, and I get the feeling that others have stared down this expression and faltered.

"Then leave," he states quietly, and turns and walks out the door.

I can hear his feet pounding up the stairs, and then the slam as he shuts his door.

I slump back into the chair and run a shaking hand through my hair.

Oh God. I blew it.

Ten minutes later, I drag myself upstairs, intent upon throwing myself into my bed and sleeping away the rest of this nightmare.

But a raised voice rushes down the hallway, and I pause by the door leading to the outside of our underwater castle. I can barely hear Timmy speak.

"I can't stand it! I can't! It's bad enough with Cosmo, but now Wanda's going to get on my case about you! God, it's not like I asked for this, is it? Just because all of a sudden we..."

A soft, muted interruption, the voice a shade or two deeper than Timmy's. God, it's him.

"Oh, no! No no no! It's not you, you know it isn't, how many times do I have to tell you that? You're everything to me - oh, stop smirking. I know where you're ticklish."

Another inaudible mumble while my stomach falls to my feet.

"Eee! No fair! That's light abuse! I claim - oof! Nega! Off! Off! You weigh too much!"

Mutter. I don't want to think about what they're doing.

"Ha! Gotcha! Beat that, Oh King of Darkness! No tickling, do you hear me?"

A soft chuckle. ...he laughs?

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Timmy accuses, a smile in his voice.

A slightly louder chuckle.

"Still... what else did I expect? Understanding? From anyone? From her? I must've been dreaming..."

A pause, and then I can finally hear Nega clearly. "What's wrong with dreaming?"

There's a crystalline moment of quiet before Timmy's voice sighs, soft as a spring breeze, "When the dream doesn't come true. No, hush. Don't start. I won't let even you grant me that wish, my darkness. It's not fair. Not to her and not to me. Not to anyone."

"Anyone doesn't matter, my love."

"Not to you, no. Me... I keep trying to remember to reach out, but it's like groping in the dark, and I can't find you."

"You can always find me."

"Hn. You're distracting when you're all cute and snuggly."

"Hmm..."

"No, Nega... don't..."

A soft thud. Then, breathlessly, "Why not?"

Timmy giggles. "You're impossible! I- mmph!"

Soft rustling. Then a whisper, softer than a sigh, the words burning with a strange and terrible passion. The very words I never wanted to hear my Timmy say, said to the person I never wanted him to be anywhere around. Oh God...

"I love you... until the end of time, I love you."

A sharply indrawn breath.

"You know that, don't you?" Warmth as soft as home, as overwhelming as a blazing inferno. It's Timmy - just my godson, earnest and sweet. Just lost in someone else's arms.

"My light..."

I sneak through the door to the underwater bowl- why I do it, I can't say. And there... oh God, please, not my Timmy, that is not my godson, that is not Timmy draped so carelessly on top of that murderer! Those are not his fingers intertwined with the darkness, those are not his eyes locked on the boy beneath him, that is not my godson, it cannot be my godson because my godson would never sit on someone's hips and look like that. Not like that. Not so drowsy-eyed and not that beautiful. No. No!

Then he tilts his head until his bangs are brushing his Nega's face and the beauty melts into an allure that is not my Timmy's, and oh God no! Not my godson... not my godson...

And in that exquisitely painful moment before their lips meet for what can't be the first time, the shadow breathes a single word that sends a sharp chill down my back and leaves me quaking.

"Mine," he murmurs hungrily, curling his arms tightly around Timmy, drawing him down into an embrace.

Timmy, my sweet god child, just smiles gently, letting himself be pulled, letting delicate fingertips wind into his shirt, letting himself melt into lean arms. And then Timmy kisses his darkness with all the passion and devotion of a lifelong lover, and I realize what I've lost.

He's not my godson.

Not any more.

I go back in the castle on that tenderly sickening scene and stumble numbly down the stairs. They won't notice - they didn't notice it the first time.

Cosmo was right. He was right all along.

I lost him without knowing it.

He's not my godson anymore.

I can't handle walking down the rest of the steps, so I slide down the wall and bury my face in my hands.

What kind of a godmother loses her favorite godson? What kind of a woman cannot raise her own god child? What kind of a godparent cannot wrap her innocent godson in her arms and shield him from the tantalizing call of the darkness?

I failed. I failed somehow, and I didn't even know about it. And Timmy... Timmy doesn't need me anymore. He's found someone better than I or Cosmo could ever be... he's in love with the wrong boy, he's fallen into a trap, I'm sure of it. And it's my fault for not being there, it's my fault for not raising him right, it's my fault for not forbidding him from seeing the darkness.

My little boy is all grown up now. I have nothing left to offer him.

Useless. Worthless. And it's all my own fault. If only I had... no. You can't take back the past. Can't undo what has been done. Can't act on your regrets. You can't... can't...

Oh God, what have I done?