Well, what do you know? Another update!
Thanks to everyone who has read and left a review on this story! You guys are the best!
If you're excited to see how this story progresses, well, make sure you buy some tissues for later on. I'm planning on making this as sad as possible. Mmmhmmm.
I should also mention that I'm going to be portraying Tim as slightly douche-y. In addition, Mandy won't be the meanie character in here. Rather, she's gonna be a TV host of her own show, something that reflects off the episode where they travel to the future. As for Clover and Alex, they'll be mentioned later on.
In terms of the universe they are in, Tim isn't a criminal in this one. He's rather a regular agent for WOOHP.
Enough talking, enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Totally Spies! nor Sleepless in Seattle and definitely not Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Now leave me alone, please and thank you.
"Hi, everyone! Welcome to the Samantha Show!" greeted the little girl to her pretend audience through the Sony video camera.
"I'm Samantha, how's it going? When I get older, I want to be a VJ, you know, like The Mandy Show? I think she's great! Let me tell you about myself: my hobbies are belching contests, slapping boys, messing around with Grandma, and eating chocolate!" She lowered her voice and slyly added, "And reading Mommy's letters."
She remembered something a second later. "Oh! I promised to meet with my dad today. I gotta go but I will catch you on the flip side. Over and out, yo!"
And…cut!
WOOHP Building
Samantha impatiently waited inside the WOOHP lobby. She overheard another couple fighting on the way out, the girlfriend complaining about not wanting to hear out on her boyfriend. She glanced at her wristwatch and looked around again. Samantha heard footsteps from behind her and hope flared in her heart, along with some disappointment.
In front of her face was presented three items:
A bouquet of yellow roses? Nope.
A bar of chocolate? Not now.
A little teddy bear?
Samantha accepted the last gift and cuddled with the toy. She looked up and giggled.
Tim sheepishly straightened his party hat. He wore circle sunglasses and his typical black business suit.
"Hi, Sam - ," but the child huffed out of the double glass doors.
"Hey, hey," Tim chased after her. "Look, I'm sorry."
"Dad, you can't keep doing this," Samantha complained.
"I'm sorry," Tim repeated again in a childish tone. "I was only two -," he consulted the Rolex, "two hours late." He gulped in panic. "Shit." He knew his daughter would give him an earful.
"Dad, you know that my time to wait for you is valuable. I haven't watched a single morning cartoon today."
"Ohhhh," Tim mocked.
"And I have loads of other work to complete. I am only your daughter, after all, not your wife," Samantha jolted at the last word. She bit her tongue, expecting a scolding from her father.
Instead, Tim bent down and slid the sunglasses halfway down his nose bridge as he adoringly gazed at Sam.
"Why not? I'm not only your dad, but also your mom. That's how I've been taking care of you all these years."
He gently took the teddy bear from Sam and imitated holding a baby.
Sam tapped her father for the toy back and his attention again.
"Nah," he replied.
Sam tugged at his arm.
"Nah," he resisted, still focused on the toy.
She finally pulled on his arm, forcing Tim to squat near the ground.
"Are you mad?" Sam asked.
"A little," Tim replied.
"I'm sorry," Sam apologized.
He smiled at his precious child. She was so adorable, it was hard to be mad at her.
"It's okay," Tim forgave her.
They shared their handshake - thumb to thumb and pinky to pinky formed into a formal handshake - before flicking their noses.
Tim's Home
At home, Jennifer Scam was leading her group of philosophy members.
"Ladies, this is why we learn about logic, to teach the younger children, essentially our upcoming generation, how to live life. How to develop self awareness, empathy, sympathy, and respecting others."
Among the crowd, a woman chatted loudly, rudely interrupting Jennifer's lesson. "You know, my lovely boyfriend gifted me an expensive item this past weekend, and it was truly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen…"
"TIFFANY!"
She jumped up at Jennifer's scolding.
"Since you're so chatty today, why not remind us about Descartes' philosophy for us?"
"Descartes?!" Tiffany suddenly recalled, "I actually - forgot about that." She opened a pink Japanese fan and began fanning herself.
Jennifer gasped in shock.
"Did you hear, ladies? Our Tiffany forgot about Descartes' philosophy! Tsk, tsk, what will you teach your little ones?"
As Jennifer continued her lecture, her granddaughter had entered the home.
"Grandma!" the little girl loudly greeted. Samantha ran over to give Jennifer a tight hug.
"This is my granddaughter, Samantha," Jennifer introduced to her group.
"Hello," the redhead greeted.
The ladies acknowledged the child. Except for one person.
"Hmph," Tiffany huffed.
"Hi, sexy!" Sam nudged her grandma.
The ladies burst out laughing, while Jennifer flushed red in embarrassment.
"Wow, you're really teaching your granddaughter some respect there, aren't you?" one lady remarked sarcastically, while everyone else continued giggling.
"Who taught you this?" Jennifer asked while maintaining her composure.
"Dad!" she replied confidently.
Tim pretended he didn't hear anything and headed upstairs.
"That explains it," Jennifer briefly turned to glance at her son. She rubbed Sam's arm gently. "Get ready for your school function now."
"Grandma?" Sam asked.
"Yes?"
"Letter, please?"
"Not today. You know what's tomorrow?"
"Oh," Sam realized.
"Go," Jennifer teased.
Beverly Hills Elementary School
"Here, Mom, these two seats are free," Tim allowed Jennifer to enter the row first.
"Hello, hello!" a loud voice greeted the two guests from behind.
"Hi," Tim greeted the man who could literally crush you during a match of sumo wrestling.
"Enough," the teacher commanded and the applause ceased. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the One Minute Competition…"
"What a contest, huh? Making the children babble on stage on a topic and then winning or losing. But, I am sure that our daughter, Haylee, will be first, as she is every year, right Karen?" He joined hands with his wife in agreement.
"Well, my Samantha also takes part in the competition," Tim added.
"She often wins second, no? That's okay," Charles reassured.
On the stage, the children sat in their respective seats.
"Best of luck, Haylee," Sam wished her sourly.
"Same to you," Haylee mocked back.
"Each student will have one minute to speak on their given topic. Remember, you have to complete your explanation within just a minute…" the teacher continued with the instructions of the competition.
The man leaned forward again, "So, just a minute, as in just one minute?"
"I know, it's confusing for us, too," Tim shifted in his chair, feeling uncomfortable at the man's strong grip.
"Charles, control yourself," Karen scolded her husband.
"First up is Haylee White." A child with blond pigtails and blue eyes walked to the shorter mic.
Charles stood up, clapping like it was his last day to live. "Haylee, my star!" He yelled. Even worse, the man began whistling to cheer his daughter on.
"Your topic is 'friends', and your timer starts now," the giant clock behind Haylee began ticking.
"Friends, ah, are important to me. My dad said friends can bring joy into your life. They can help when you need help the most. And my mom said to appreciate your friends, or they will, uh, tell everyone about how you downloaded an essay off the Internet for English class. "
The crowd laughed as Karen blushed crimson and Charles glared around at everyone.
"Friends is also the name of my favorite TV show. Okay, thank you."
The crowd applauded for the child. "Next up is Samantha Scam."
Sam walked over to the mic. She winked at her father, who blew her a kiss back.
"Your topic is 'family', and your timer begins now."
The timer began ticking again and Sam inhaled.
"Family, um. I know I have my daddy and Grandma. And um," a lump formed in her throat as she struggled to utter the next word. Her heart was pounding away in her chest as her stomach twisted itself into a knot.
The seconds ticked by.
"Go on," the teacher whispered.
Tears streamed down her face in sadness. She hastily wiped them away, embarrassed to start crying in front of an audience. "I'm sorry," and Sam turned her back to the crowd.
"Mom," and Sam recognized that voice.
Her father had stood up from the audience and began walking to the stage with hands in his pockets.
"Mom," he repeated, "is one such person who possesses unconditional love for the family. Who makes sacrifices to ensure we are happy and satisfied. Who, no matter the situation or circumstance, makes sure that her family is safe from danger. Unfortunately, we may not have her with us."
By now, Tim had bent down to his daughter's level on the stage. He placed an index finger on Sam's shirt above her heart. "But, we can't forget having a father and a grandma, both who are absolutely excellent people."
"Can I have a hug?" he whispered and Sam graciously embraced her heroic father.
The audience gave them a standing ovation. Charles whistled and hooted, "Oh, number one, sir, you are number one!"
Tim's Home
Tim dribbled the basketball. Jennifer wiped a couple of tears away as she set down a blue coffee cup.
She watched her son about to shoot a hoop. "Uh, Tim, you know about the Simpsons?"
"Which Simpsons?" Tim asked.
"The family in Los Angeles," she replied.
"What about them?"
"Well, their daughter got a marriage proposal."
"With who?"
"With me," Jennifer replied sarcastically.
"Then get married to her," Tim joked.
Jennifer gasped, "Shut up!"
Tim laughed as he swung his arm to make another shot.
"Apparently, the guy is very handsome and respectful. I told her, okay fine. Your daughter should go ahead and marry the guy. Did I do the right thing?"
"Yeah," Tim replied.
"I did?"
"Yes," he dunked the basketball into the hoop again.
"Really, I did?"
This time, Tim turned to Jennifer. "Yes, mom."
Jennifer felt defeated. She walked over to the benches near the window sills and Tim joined her.
"Hmph. I mean, when have I ever made a mistake? Youth these days aren't even respectful, they're mostly respectfully pretty. The Simpsons keep nagging me, sending me proposals, asking me if my son would ever get married - and - and -"
Tim wrapped an arm around Jennifer's shoulders. She squirmed around for a bit before finally relaxing on her son's shoulder.
"What's happened, Mom?" Tim asked.
"I don't know, Tim. This household just seems…empty," Jennifer admitted.
"Really? I mean, there's you. There's me, and there's Samantha. The house doesn't feel empty to me."
"True, but another thing here is that whenever I go out with my friends, their daughter-in-laws are always having mother-in-law bonding times. They spoil each other, go out, and make memories together..."
"Ohhhh. That is a big problem. You'd want a daughter-in-law to be able to spoil and love and be happy with?" In 100% honesty, there wasn't much Tim could do at the moment. He understood what his mother was talking about, but that won't happen instantly.
"No, I actually want you to be happy, son."
"I am happy, Mom."
"Would you ever get married again?"
Tim sighed. "Mom, in life, you fall in love once. You win once, get married once, and you die once. None of those happen twice."
"What about Sam? Do you ever think she needs a mom?"
Tim stood up and faced Jennifer. His eyes glistened with tears. "Sam? She's okay. She's okay because she has one thing that I don't: her mother's letters."
12 AM
Ding
Ding
Ding
"Happy birthday, Sam!" the child hopped out of bed and ran downstairs.
She dug through the presents, searching for a specific gift that always awaits her during every birthday. On top of a box wrapped in shiny gold paper was an envelope with a number '8' on the front.
She eagerly opened the casing and removed the papers with her mother's handwriting:
My lovely Samantha,
Happy birthday!
You're eight years old today! You are a big girl now! And I bet you look just like your father. With his nose, his eyes. Isn't that right Sam?
"No, I look like you," the child pouted.
Tell me, does your father still talk in his sleep? When will his bad habit ever go away?
Since you are a big girl now, I am positive you are going to understand what I am about to tell you. For your eighth birthday, I am going to narrate a story to you that took place about ten years ago. In this story, we have your father, me, and - Samantha.
"Samantha?" Sam echoed.
Yup. Skylar has one heck of a trauma dumping to do on her precious child. If you feel conflicted by this, your opinion is valid. I have some issues with trauma dumping on children, too.
However, this is fiction, and so we're gonna have to do some suspense of belief, or whatever you call it, for this piece.
Like I said, make sure to grab some tissues for the chapters that lay in the future.
Lastly, I do not wish this kind of treatment that Sam (the adult) is about to endure upon anyone. You'll see what I mean later.
Thank you for reading!
Best,
Precila