Title: Nightmares and Dreamscapes- Chapter 11/?
Fandom: Lazytown
Pairing: Sportacus/Robbie
Rating: T
Summary: There is no such thing as magic...right? However, when Robbie starts noticing something strange about Sportacus and unusual things start occurring in Lazytown, that belief just might have to be changed.
Author's Notes: Transition chapter which was a pain to write. Getting towards the real point of this story. Yes. And thank you everybody for such awesome reviews!
It was silent.
A week before, there had been a statue on the outskirts of town, dark grey stone terribly lifelike and frightening. For little less than an hour, one stone hand had been curled around a crystal. Yet after that hour, three of the fingers had been broken off and the shimmering crystal had disappeared. Before the day had completely broken, the statue had been moved to the forests, where the children of the to wnwould not stumble upon it.
It was silent. The week before, the children had been subdued due to their town "hero". He had been acting strange, saying he could not sleep. He had been tired and less energetic during the day, ending his playtime with them earlier and earlier. Their town "villain" ("misunderstood…guy!" he would correct them indignantly) had been surprisingly absent, causing no sort of tricks or pranks that, in the end, would make the children laugh even louder and smile more brightly.
(The children themselves had also been feeling exhausted themselves. Nightmares and sicknesses had been plaguing them, bringing down one child or another for a day before it moved onto another.)
Now the children were in the courtyard, all gathered around one bench. They were talking quietly with each other, horribly somber for such a bright day. They had been told of the tragedy and they were still trying to understand it. So they remained quiet, trying to somehow comprehend it.
They had all visited the hospital and had seen the still form. It had not settled well with any of them. They had all seen how their hero had been there, face drawn. He had been absent for the whole week, hiding both in his airship and at the hospital. Sometimes they would see him walking (actually walking!) back to his airship after visiting the hospital and he would be pale with shadows under tired blue eyes.
Only the small pink-haired child would approach him at this time, grasping his large hand in her slender one and talking quietly to him with a small smile. Then he would leave and vanish into his airship, the pink-haired child rejoining her friends.
It was silent.
The only sound in the sterile room was the constant beeps of the various machines hooked up to Robbie. Against the white sheets, he looked frail and washed-out. Comatose, the doctors had muttered to each other. There were no signs of a concussion and his brain activity was relatively normal (for one who has comatose that is), but there was nothing the doctors could do. They could only wait until Robbie woke up.
Sportacus, the only one privy to what had happened with the svartàlfar, knew the true reason behind Robbie's state was black magic. He had tried multiple times to heal Robbie, but his magic simply drained away until his reserves were empty. Even with the enhancing power of the Sportacus line crystal, his magic was simply hitting the wall of the magic the svartàlfar had somehow surrounded Robbie with.
Shifting in the uncomfortable plastic chair one of the kind nurses had left him, Sportacus reached out and drew his fingers lightly over the slender hand on the bed sheets. The svartàlfar was right; Robbie was just a shell this way.
Sportacus, however, had an idea.
He had seen the Elders go into minds before of the elves that had fallen too deeply into themselves through magic. The Elders would reach into the mind and see if the spirit of the person was still there or if it had been truly lost. Of course, the Elders had much power with which to do this kind of task.
But Sportacus had the crystal. The svartàlfar had wanted it because of its powers. Maybe…just maybe the crystal would be able to boost his own magic enough so that he would be able to go into Robbie's mind and try to draw his spirit out of whatever hole the svartàlfar had trapped him in.
It was early in the day now and he had rested his magic so that his reserves were at their highest point. He had spoken with the nurses when he had gotten in and one had mentioned that Mr. Rotten did not have any tests scheduled today so there would be doctors coming in and checking over the vitals, basic, routine work. Yesterday, he had talked to Mayor Meanswell and the Mayor had said that he had spoken with the parents of the children that hung around Robbie; they, as a group, had decided that the children needed a few days away from the hospital. And, as far as Sportacus knew, nobody else would be visiting during the day. He would have the whole day, alone, to attempt this.
Gently, Sportacus reached up and placed the fingers of one hand over the pale brow. If he concentrated, he could feel the oily magic swirling beneath his fingers. He ran a tendril of magic against it and winced as the black magic completely engulfed the small, radiant wisp. He fanned his fingers out, almost idly brushing away the dark strands of hair that had fallen to cover the closed eyes.
Then he shut his own eyes and concentrated, felt that undercurrent of magic. He pulled forward his own bright magic and the glowing spark of the Sportacus crystal. And then he pushed, thinking only of Robbie, brilliant and creative and prickly and in Lazytown where he belonged and not in this frighteningly sterile hospital.
That oily magic fought frantically against his, but the crystal sparked bright fire and that oily magic broke under his own. Sportacus fell into darkness.
In the hospital room, Sportacus slumped over, head against the sheets, seemingly asleep. The only sign of movement was the twitch of his fingers on Robbie's forehead.