A/N: I'm the first to admit that this chapter starts a little badly, but towards the end it turns into something I'm almost, -gulp-, proud of. So stick with it and I (sort of) guarantee you'll like the last bit of this chapter here. - Sky.

Chapter 9 – After Hours

It was five minutes from closing, yet the mall was surprisingly sparse on people. Usually the stores would be crammed with people trying to get their last few moments of retail therapy, but as the sun began to gently dip beneath the horizon the crowd in the Dimsdale Mall could be described as straggly at best. Despite all this, however, Timmy Turner still remained.

Tootie and Chester had left a long, long time ago, with Chester desperately trying to calm his girlfriend's temper. It had been a long, arduous day for them all Timmy thought, and nothing had really been accomplished. It hadn't exactly started out full of promise anyway, Timmy knew that the second her heard Vicky agree to still come along to the mall with them. He could tell from her face that she didn't really know why she was saying yes, but she had and the damage was done. In fact, the only one who seemed at all pleased by the turn of events was Tootie, who seemed to think that integrating Vicky into lives which she had already destroyed was a good thing.

The red head didn't say a word on the way to the mall, despite her sister's cajoling, and her attempts to get Timmy to confess to how he had hurt his arm was just getting on his nerves. Thankfully Chester, who only knew half the story himself, was better at reading Timmy and tried his best to divert Tootie's attention. Unfortunately, this had meant the young couple going on ahead while Timmy lagged behind, with Vicky holding back even further. Anyone who spotted them would never have guessed that they were supposed to be travelling together, and in a way, they weren't. Each one of them was far too absorbed in their own world to realise anything that happened around them.

To look at her, and to have known her for all these years, Timmy wouldn't have said that Tootie had a temper. He had always thought of her as quiet, polite, and kind. The exact opposite, in fact, of her terrifying older sister. However, after today Timmy was beginning to realise that some traits just went right down to the bone. The fiery temper that Vicky possessed resided somewhere under Tootie's sweet exterior, and it had reared it's ugly head today. Timmy swallowed as he traipsed through the near deserted mall, trying to shake off the memory but finding himself unable to block such unexpected rage from his mind.

"Hey Tootie?" The group looked up, shocked. It was pretty much the only sound they had heard Vicky make all day.

"Um, yes Vicky?" said Tootie, in the voice of someone trying and failing to cover up the sound of how awkward they felt.

"I just need to go to the bathroom, ok?" Tootie's face had fallen then. She had obviously been hoping that Vicky was going to say something meaningful, something that showed she wanted to be part of the group dynamic. Something that showed she was willing to be accepted. Timmy couldn't help but pity Tootie a little. He knew that Vicky didn't want charity; he knew that she didn't want people to reach out to her. A wave of bitterness washed over Timmy at that point. If Vicky wanted to stay in the dark pit of despair that she had fallen into, then so be it. He wasn't going to stick his neck out for someone who'd just bite his head off anyway.

"Um, ok Vicky," Tootie had replied.

After fifteen minutes of standing outside of the mall's bathrooms, Timmy and Chester had noticed that Tootie was getting restless on her feet. While they both knew it was possible that the queue was just long, or that there might be only one stall with paper or something, deep down they all knew the truth.

Vicky had skipped out.

Tootie had gone into the bathroom, but just as a formality. She told them when she came out that the bathroom was completely empty, with her eyes to the floor as she apologised for her sister's behaviour. Chester tried to reassure her while at the same time Timmy really thought it was no loss, although he didn't say it out loud. It wouldn't have mattered if he had though, as it looked like Tootie wouldn't have heard him anyway. He was shocked to see that she was trembling, still with her eyes cast down to the floor.

"Tootie, are you-" he began, but was promptly cut off.

"She always does this!" Tootie shouted to no one in particular.

"Uh, does she?" Timmy stammered, a little shocked that this was the first time he had ever heard Tootie raise her voice except to squeal. It really was quite terrifying, and so shaded with overtones of Vicky that Timmy was forced to recoil a little bit. Chester stood steadfast however; his girlfriend was his girlfriend, adorable to angry.

"I mean, she so unreliable! She never thinks about anyone except herself!" Tootie's shouts were definitely directed at no one now; her arms flailed wildly as she explained to the world how disappointing her sister was. Timmy tried to pretend that he couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. He knew Chester had seen them. His face had gone white.

After a while, as Chester tried to gently lead the distressed brunette away and take her home, Timmy could make out the faint, even sentences on the edge of her voice.

She's not how a big sister is supposed to be.

She's never going to be.

-

Timmy had considered going home too. Suddenly the mall and everything in it seemed heavy, and bright, and sharp. Everything screamed of superficial pointlessness, and the people seemed even worse, scurrying into shops to spend money they'd barely earned on things they didn't need. Shop after shop of big business at its most soul sucking, souls that were desperately needed so that people could be half-decent human beings. It was a symbol of everything that was wrong with humanity in Timmy's eyes, and she shut them, trying to block the harsh neon strips out as he made his way to the exit.

When he opened them again, something brought him back down to earth.

He knew it was just a coffee shop, he knew there was nothing to it and most of all, he knew it was no different to all the other shops that lined this monument to human greed. In fact, as the old cliché goes, it was the symbol of global dominance in the business world, right? A coffee chain on every corner, paving the streets outside with discarded polystyrene cups. But that wasn't what had caught Timmy's eye. It was just the empty space, where not too long ago a fragile girl had stood, crying silently to herself as her coffee got cold, as the world just passed her by. And still, people just passed the space by, as though Vicky had found the only place in the world where you could be truly ignored.

But Timmy had seen her that day.

And she hadn't seen him.

And suddenly it occurred to Timmy that Vicky probably hadn't gone home. It would be a stupid thing to do, considering it was pretty obvious that Tootie would have gone straight there too when she realised what her sister had done. The more he thought about it, and the more he stared at that vacant spot, the more he came to realise that Vicky probably hadn't left the mall either. While Timmy might have seen the place as a sickening display of money changing hands, Vicky probably saw it as a sanctuary. The place she came when she was down, the place that reminded her of happier times when all she had lived for was money, before all these tricky emotions showed up and forced her to question who she was.

And so Timmy had waited, until almost everyone had gone and the red head would be easier to spot in vast whiteness of the place. Until it would be easy to corner her, and get her to talk to him where she couldn't escape. Like last night he just needed to know that she was ok.

-

Timmy cast furtive glances down the rows of shops. Once again he stood opposite the bathrooms, but this time with the intention of going in. Right at the other end of the mall he could see a woman, laid down with bags but still not giving up the eternal struggle to empty her purse, but between there and here there was not another soul. He checked his watch. There were still a few minutes before closing, but already many of the shops had pulled their shutters down. The place was almost dead, at least for the night. Timmy took a deep breath and ducked into the girl's bathrooms.

Timmy would be the first to admit that he was no stranger to the bathrooms of the opposite sex. He would hope, however, that it wouldn't sound as sordid as it did in his head. His sneakers made barely a sound on the grimy blue tiles, and he was more than relieved to find that there was no one else in there. Or, at least, no one he could see.

He checked under each of the stalls for feet, before straightening up and clearing his throat. Vicky would know that someone was in there by now, even if she didn't know it was Timmy so there was no need for stealth.

"Vicky?" he called softly. Her name echoed around the cold, unfriendly room.

He hadn't expected her to answer, not in the slightest, but he had known she would react. If he hadn't been listening he would have missed it, the slight creak as she shifted, crouched on the toilet seat, shocked to hear her name called out in a familiar voice. He directed his eyes to the last stall, one with an 'OUT OF ORDER' sign tacked to the front in familiar handwriting. He walked right up to the door, but he didn't knock.

"I know you're in there," he said quietly.

There was a pause.

"How?" Vicky's voice replied, weak and scared from behind the flimsy wooden door. Timmy wasn't sure how to answer her, because in truth he didn't know.

"I just do," he finally settled on.

"How?" she asked again. Timmy sighed, and decided to take charge of the conversation. He was the one here who was going to ask the questions, not her.

"Why are you hiding in here?" he asked.

"I'm not hiding, Twerp," Vicky said defiantly, but every syllable was tinged with her own admission that this was a lie.

"Oh really?" Timmy said with a smirk. "So would you like to tell me what crouching on a toilet seat for three and a half hours is if it's not hiding?" This was met by a stoic silence from the other side of the door. Timmy smiled. She didn't have to say it; there was no one in the conversation who didn't know that Vicky was hiding. Timmy let himself slide down the door and rest on the tiles, no matter what kinds of germs they might be harbouring.

"Vicky, please tell me what's wrong," Timmy said, leaning his head against the heavily-vandalised wood.

"Nothing's wrong," Vicky said curtly. Timmy closed his eyes. He knew that there was nothing he could do to make her talk and moreover, he knew he had no right to. As he sat on the filthy floor of the girl's bathroom trying to get a girl who had once made his life hell to open up, Timmy knew that he was in the wrong. Vicky's secrets were hers, and Timmy knew why she wouldn't tell. Vicky's secrets were hurting her, and if someone made them better she felt as though she'd no longer be paying for all the bad things she had done. And she couldn't let them go, not yet. She wasn't finished atoning by a long shot.

"Ok," Timmy said, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms on them, clasping his hands together loosely.

"That's it?" came Vicky's voice, not angry but not placated either. "Ok?"

"Well, what do you want me to say Vicky?" And there was another silence, as expected. This one lasted a little longer. There were things being thought through, mostly by Vicky under the heading of what she really wanted Timmy to say. All the things she wanted to hear from his wonderful mouth, and, sadly, all the things she felt would probably never be true. Timmy hadn't come here to confess his love, he had come to pry and interfere in Vicky's own private pain. Vicky crossed her arms across her chest and lowered her feet down onto the floor.

"Go home Timmy."

"I don't want to," came the reply.

"Why not?"

"Because you're sad."

"And you want to hang around and watch?" The comment was so laced in venom that Timmy wanted to get up and leave. He wanted to yell and tell her she deserved to destroy herself, to sink into a black abyss where she could never bother anyone again. But something else had rung louder through her words. She hadn't denied what Timmy had said. In fact, she had confirmed it.

She was sad.

And now she had told Timmy.

Which was a start.

-

Vicky fell silent then, as did Timmy, who found that now he had gotten what he wanted, he didn't know what to say. He stared up to the ceiling, looking to the heavens for a way to make it through the day. He was starting to wish that he hadn't entered the girl's bathroom. Vicky's admission had magically transformed her in Timmy's eyes. She really was someone else now, someone who could, at long last, be forgiven. Timmy wanted to tell her that it was ok, that everything she had done was in the past and that it didn't have to be like that anymore. But he couldn't bring himself to say it, because it was a lie. He couldn't forgive her, not yet. The scars were still too fresh, the reality was still too real, and the new, warmer feelings he had been developing towards Vicky weren't strong enough yet.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

It wasn't exactly dark outside, but there was only a small, grubby window in the bathroom to let the dusky light in. Timmy scrambled to his feet, and heard Vicky doing the same on the other side of the door.

"Damn!" he cursed. "The mall must be closed." In fact, the mall had been closed for some time. He had been sitting on that tiled floor for longer than he realised, but Vicky was well aware of how much time had passed.

"Oh, jeez," she hissed under her breath. There was a metallic clang outside of the bathroom, followed by a muffled curse word. "Perfect," Vicky muttered.

"What?" Timmy whispered, somehow sensing that this would be a good time for him to keep his voice down.

"Cleaning lady," Vicky whispered back.

"Great, she can let us out of here." There was a strangled grown from behind the door, and before Timmy knew what was happening the latch clicked open and a hand shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt. Vicky yanked him into the stall with her and shut the door quickly, locking in ad jumping back on to the toilet.

"Quickly," she hissed, holding out her hand. Timmy took it, and clambered up onto the toilet with her. There wasn't enough room for them both, and Timmy slipped off again.

"Get up here!" she said urgently.

"I can't!" Timmy protested. "It's not big enough!" Vicky rolled her eyes and pulled him up again, but this time she wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her body. Timmy was startled for a second, but he soon realised that it would help his balance if he did the same. Hesitantly, and never sure if she would hit him, he reached up with reluctant arms and curled them delicately around Vicky's waist. She shuddered under his embrace, but just then the bathroom door swung open with a groan.

Wheels squeaked across the floor, along with the laboured breathing of someone who would much rather be at home. Timmy kept his lips tightly together, not daring to breathe and hardly noticing how he hugged Vicky tighter and tighter every time the bucket squeaked closer. He closed his eyes and hoped that she would be finished soon, completely bypassing the stall that wasn't in use.

Thump, thump, thump.

Vicky's heart beat was rapid underneath her soft cotton shirt; Timmy could hear it where his head was pressed to her chest. Still, he didn't open his eyes. Her hands were gentle on his back, yet firm, which surprised Timmy greatly. He had half expected her to be digging her nails in, squeezing him too tightly, hurting him even though she was meant to be keeping him safe.

Just like she had always done.

But she wasn't. She was holding him carefully and, though it seemed strange to think it, not just with her arms. Her whole body was in the action as if she wanted to encompass him, to smother him with her desire to keep him out of trouble and in her arms. It was warm, and it felt good to be standing there with her chin resting gently on his head as if she didn't even realise. And in spite of himself, Timmy felt himself holding her back. Not just for safety, but to give her warmth, to make her feel better. A smile played across his lips. He was happy here. He'd never been held like this in his entire life, never been embraced with so much emotion.

He felt… loved.

Something wet on his forehead brought him back to earth. He looked up at Vicky who, to his surprise, didn't turn away. She was crying, and her face was dark with regret, but she stared right into his eyes. Timmy wanted to say something, but he couldn't or he'd risk getting them both into trouble, so he just put his head back down on to her chest again and held her a little tighter.

By the time the cleaner had left, the effect had worn off a little. Timmy was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed, at the situation and at himself. Vicky too seemed to have come to her sense and was sniffing and blinking and trying to hide all traces of her tears without using her hands.

Neither of them seemed to notice that despite the awkwardness, they were still holding on to each other. The threat was gone, but still, they held each other.

After a minute or two they both came to their senses and pulled apart, Timmy slipping off the toilet seat once more but managing to stay on his feet. Vicky got down clumsily, absolutely refusing to lean on Timmy for support. They burst out of the stall in a rush and stood, face to face but looking at the floor, trying to hide their nerves.

"I should go home," Timmy said, already backing away towards the door. "It's late."

"Yeah," Vicky agreed half-heartedly.

"Oh, no," Timmy whispered. "The doors will all be locked!" Vicky's head shot up and she looked Timmy squarely in the eyes.

"If anyone finds you, they'll say you were shoplifting," she mumbled, looking back down to the floor.

"I guess so," Timmy agreed.

"I know so," Vicky said, looking up and giving Timmy and wry smile, in spite of herself. He let out a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders.

"So now what?" he asked. Vicky jabbed a finger at the window. "Won't it be locked?"

"Not for long," Vicky said demurely, reaching into her pocket and extracting a paper clip. The tension between them was electric, full of awkward pauses and things left unsaid, but Timmy couldn't help smiling as the red head went to work on the window latch.

In her own little way, Vicky really was quite amazing.