A/N - Just so you know, where I come from the legal age for 'adult situations' is sixteen, so this story doesn't seem as odd to me as it might to some of you from the U.S. or other countries where the age of consent is higher. Incidentally, this story isn't likely to contain graphic 'adult situations', but if the idea of Vicky crushing on Timmy still freaks you out, just pretend that they are two years older than I said they were. - Sky.

WARNING - Language, Betty!

Chapter 12 - Twist

When Vicky awoke, it was raining. Thick, fat drops exploded on her hot pale skin, rousing her from her uncomfortable sleep. The doorway that she was huddled in did little to protect her tall frame from the weather, but still she drew her legs up close to her body and tightly hugged her knees. Judging by the faint pink light on the grey horizon, it was still fairly early. Whoever owned the hardware store Vicky was hunched in front of had not turned up to open it yet, and Vicky hoped that the rain would have ceased before they arrived. She rubbed her eyes and pushed her sopping wet hair from her face, trying to make sense of everything that was running through her head.

At first, Vicky had been shocked to find herself outside. But then memories of last night had flooded her mind, making her stomach knot and twist. Her legs ached from where she had been running, and Vicky couldn't remember ever having run so hard in all her life. She just had to get away from Timmy, and the situation they were in, before he looked into her eyes, which would no doubt betray her. It was sick, and she knew it, but being with Timmy when he wasn't hating her was something Vicky couldn't stand. In her heart, she wanted him to shout and yell and thrash out, until the hatred had ebbed away. She wanted to be punished.

The tears were upon her before she had a chance to stop them, and she began to cry. She tried to hide her face, pressing her forehead against her knees as she wept bitterly. There was not a single car speeding past on the road, not a single person taking their dog for an early morning stroll. As Vicky sat hunched and small in a shop doorway, crying as though she would never stop, she was very much alone.

-

Timmy needed someone. He was in pain. Cosmo and Wanda had been taken away, they were gone, and soon they were to be punished, and it was all his fault. He should have just let them go, he should have just given up and realised that he couldn't fight the laws of Fairy World. He was one boy, one pointless, human boy and just a blip on Fairy World's timeline. He had earned no right to special treatment, and yet he had expected it, because they were his friends. Was he really so stupid as to believe that no other kid in all the world had loved their fairies like he had? That every other kid who was blessed with magical godparents was just a greedy, selfish brat who didn't care where the things kept coming from as long as they kept coming? Timmy felt like a fool. Of course he wasn't the first. He wouldn't be the last. He was just another one.

The sun had come up before Timmy realised he hadn't been to bed. His parents had returned to the house at around one in the morning, stumbling drunkenly up the stairs and hanging onto each other for support. Timmy had ignored them and in return they had brushed straight past his bedroom door without a thought for their only child. Timmy almost laughed at the thought of going to them for comfort. He didn't need help, he just needed someone to understand, and he knew he couldn't find that within his mother's arms. To them, all his trials were nothing but frivolous teenage angst, nothing that couldn't be cured with a quick hug and an 'Off you go now'. He didn't need that right now. He didn't want to feel better. He just wanted someone to watch him cry.

The sun broke through the curtains, throwing a shard of light across Timmy's crisp bed sheets. He had spent most of the night sitting on the floor, only getting up to stretch his legs when the ache in them became too much. His eyes hadn't strayed to the empty goldfish bowl once, but it was the conscious effort of not doing so that reminded Timmy more than ever that it was there. He wondered if there would ever be another one. Another bowl beside another kid's bed that Cosmo and Wanda would call home, or would everything be taken away from them, too? Timmy ran his fingers through his hair, and decided that he needed to get out of his house.

-

The streets were still fairly empty when Timmy got outside. A few cars here and there rumbled along the tarmac, but there was no one else out walking as though there was no place to go. Timmy found it all rather eerie; he had never been in Dimsdale when it had been this quiet. It was strange, as Timmy had been outside in less sociable hours than early morning, and yet there was hardly anyone about. It was as though the town had decided as one that it didn't really feel like venturing past it's doorstep. Even the few people who were outside had tired, frustrated looks on their faces, as though they would rather still be in bed.

Timmy's eyes itched with tiredness, but his mind was so full of fussy thoughts that he knew that even if he had tried to sleep, it wouldn't have come. Every time he closed his eyes, Cosmo and Wanda's distraught faces swam into view, sometimes interspersed with the image of a familiar redhead. He had so much going on and at the tender age of seventeen, Timmy felt a little hard done by. He would have given anything to not have these problems. To just be a normal teenage boy who didn't have to worry about his fairy godparents' upcoming trial, or that fact that he was nursing a tiny crush on a girl who had once made his life hell.

Timmy stopped dead, one foot hanging in mid-air over the kerb. His eyes stared wide around the landscape, though they didn't take any of it in. The thought that had crossed his head surely couldn't be true. Timmy thrust his hands deep into his pockets and tried to rationalise things. Deep down he knew, he just knew, that he couldn't possibly be attracted to Vicky. She was his torturer, the girl who had devoted most of her energy to making him miserable, just so she herself could smile. The girl who used to force him to do tiring or humiliating things, all the while knowing that at the end of the day she would be paid for her efforts. By Timmy's own parents no less! It was impossible for him to have feelings for her. It just wasn't right.

He gently placed his foot back onto solid ground and continued walking. He tried to convince himself that the only reason he thought he had feelings for Vicky was because he had more or less realised that she had feelings for him. He slowed his pace and stopped again. It was the first time he had really thought about that since he figured it out last night. He had dwelt on it for a little while, certainly, but the sight of the crisp white sheet of paper on his bed had brought his mind back to more serious matters. But now, in the cool of the open air, and the notion of Cosmo and Wanda's trial having been thought over thoroughly from every angle, Timmy found that his mind drifted back to that which was almost in his control. He couldn't stop Vicky loving him, but he could avoid making it any worse. He realised that he had to keep away from his former babysitter, remove the temptation as it were. He still wanted someone to talk to though, and he hadn't realised it but his feet were subconsciously taking him along the familiar path to Chester's trailer.

His steps faltered when he reached the trailer park. He wondered whether it would be a good idea to tell Chester about Vicky. For one thing, he would surely laugh at the idea, and not take it seriously at all. That didn't seem right to Timmy, who had seen Vicky at her worst because of her love for him. It actually shocked him a little, to find that someone could be that in love with anyone. She had wasted away, just because she had developed feelings for the last person she had ever expected to. Timmy was also worried about Chester telling Tootie. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friend, because he really did, but girlfriends have a way of worming things out of their men. If Vicky heard that Timmy was finally on to her, there was no telling what she might do. He remembered the way she had ran, just because they had spent some time together without screaming and kicking.

She had looked him, square in the eyes, and the humour had fallen from her face. Then she just took off and ran, as though Timmy were threatening her or something. He wondered if she had gotten home all right.

In the end, Timmy decided to pull Chester out of his home and just get him to listen. He wouldn't mention Vicky and he definitely wouldn't mention Cosmo and Wanda. There was no threat of losing them if he did now, but Timmy was certain that Fairy World had a hundred other punishments for people who blabbed. He would just talk evasively, about what was on his mind, just to get it off his chest. Or at least, that had been the plan.

When he reached Chester's trailer, a violent scene met his eyes. The door of trailer was flung wide and hanging from it's hinges, and a trail of old fast food wrappings and newspapers led from the door to the mud outside. On the floor, Chester's father was being held down by two large policemen, one of whom was trying to cuff the man's wrists together. Chester stood with his back flat against the trailer he called home, a look of horror and incomprehension on his face.

"Get off me you bastards!" Chester's father yelled, still squirming on the ground. Timmy was uncertain whether to approach or not. He wasn't sure if Chester had spotted him yet. He could just turn and leave, because he was certain that Chester would not want him to see this. Still, he found himself rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the action that was unfolding before him.

"Dad, stop struggling!" Chester yelled, in a voice Timmy hadn't heard him use since they were both little boys. "Please dad, just go with them!" There was an edge to his voice that suggested to Timmy that the blonde boy was on the verge of tears.

"Don't you tell me what to do, boy," Chester's father said gruffly out of the corner of his mouth. Timmy felt a wave of revulsion wash over him. He had never heard Chester's father talk to his son like that before. He had always seemed like a nice sort of guy. A little crooked, admittedly, but not in a way that could ever hurt anyone. And he always seemed friendly and accommodating whenever Timmy stayed at the trailer.

Timmy saw Chester close his eyes and mutter something, but he couldn't make out what the boy said. Timmy began to very slowly walk backwards, but then Chester looked up and finally saw his friend. At first there was a look of shock on his face and just the tiniest trace of humiliation, but then Timmy saw a pleading within Chester's eyes. Timmy stopped and nodded at his friend, to show him that once his father had been taken away Chester wouldn't be left on his own. The blonde boy stared at Timmy defiantly for a second, before running back into the shadowy space of his trailer.

One of the policeman was now pinning Chester's father to the ground with his knee wedged firmly in between the man's shoulder blades. Timmy could hear the officer reading him his rights, before the two policemen lifted Chester's father to his feet and led him to their squad car. Timmy stood still as the car roared past him, looking back into the face of the man handcuffed in the back. Chester's father's eyes did not meet Timmy's as he was driven past, but the shame on his face told Timmy that he knew Timmy had seen it all. Timmy took a few deep breaths before entering Chester's trailer.

The furniture had been tossed about like paper caught in a draught. Upended tables and chairs were scattered around the mouldy red carpet, and broken crockery littered the linoleum of the kitchen area. Chester was sitting sullenly in a chair, his eyes fixed on the empty sink. The curtains were still drawn, and if it hadn't been for the fact that the door was hanging off, there would have been no light in the trailer at all. Timmy righted a chair next to Chester and sat down.

"You ok?" he asked.

"No," Chester replied bitterly, and there was an edge of malice to his voice. Timmy decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut and let Chester do all the talking. There was a silence between the two, and the anger that was radiating off of Chester was so intense that Timmy was starting to feel it too. His blood was bubbling, at Chester's father and what he had done, at Fairy World and it's stupid legal system, and at Vicky, for getting in the way. She always found some opportunity to worm into Timmy's misery and make it just that little bit worse, didn't she?

"He's been stealing cars," Chester muttered, snapping Timmy out of his inner tirade. "Been at it for a while, apparently." There was a lilt to Chester's voice that betrayed how hurt he was to find out that his father's crimes had escalated from being merely petty. "Takes them from big company car parks and then sells them on cheap. Doesn't matter to him, because they didn't cost him anything in the first place." Chester's words were even, as though he was an actor, reporting things that hadn't really happened, or at least hadn't happened to him. Timmy wasn't sure what to say or even how to sit. Chester fell silent again.

Slowly, and very methodically, Chester got to his feet and picked his chair up. Then, in one swift movement he hurled it at the window of the trailer, causing it to smash. Timmy leapt to his feet and ran to Chester's side, putting his hands tightly around Chester's wrist. Chester thrashed beneath Timmy's grip.

"Let go of me!" he roared, but Timmy held on tightly. Chester was very strong, but Timmy knew that if he let Chester go he would only carry on destroying what little he had. He wrenched his arms, causing Timmy to stumble and hit his hip painfully on the sink, but still he didn't let go.

"Let go!" Chester screamed again. Timmy was flung hard, so hard that he lost his foot and fell to his knees. He pulled Chester down with him, who moved to the side and ended up sliding down the counter where the sink was. For a moment both boys sat opposite each other on Chester's floor; Timmy with his eyes fixed on his friend and Chester looking away to one side. Timmy's fingers were still holding tightly to Chester's wrists, as though he had forgotten he was doing it.

Chester began to cry. The sobs came in spurts, as though he was trying his hardest to hold them back. Timmy was determined not to look awkward, but it was hard. They had always been very manly and guy-like towards one another, and now Timmy was watching his best friend break down, after having just seen his father hauled away by the cops.

"It'll be ok Chester," Timmy said faintly, finally releasing his grip on Chester's wrists. "It will." Chester looked up, his eyes still swimming with tears unshed.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, nodding. "Yeah."

-

Most of the furniture was unsalvageable. The two boys had tidied up as best they could, but the place hadn't been in the best condition to start out with. After that they had sat about in a contemplative silence for a bit while the ball of emotion in Timmy's chest grew larger and larger. He wanted to spill everything to Chester, but he couldn't. It was his friend who needed the shoulder to cry on today, and Timmy had to be there for him.

"Oh, damn!" Chester cried suddenly, leaping to his feet.

"What?" Timmy asked, looking up.

"I was meant to be at Tootie's ten minutes ago! I completely forgot because of... well, everything."

Timmy nodded and got to his feet. "She won't mind. We can go to hers now, and when you explain she'll be fine with it. I won't stay," he added, catching the look on Chester's face. "I just don't feel like going home yet."

They walked in silence. Timmy's hands were once again deep in his pocket, and he kept kicking out at loose bits of gravel on the ground. Whatever could take his mind off of things. Chester was walking a little faster than Timmy, clearly anxious to make up time with Tootie. As they drew nearer to her house, Chester broke into a sort of run, and Timmy had to jog just to keep up with him. When they finally arrived, Timmy was hit once again with an unexpected scene, although this one was not as violent.

Tootie sat on her garden wall with her head bowed. Her glasses hung limply between her fingertips, and her other hand covered her eyes. Chester ran to her side at once, and when she looked up both boys saw that her eyes were red raw.

"Tootie, was is it?" Chester asked, placing an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Tootie sniffed and rested her head against Chester's shoulder.

"It's Vicky," she said quietly. Timmy felt as though someone has filled his stomach wit hot lead. What if she was hurt? What if she was... "She didn't come home last night." Chester squeezed his girlfriend's shoulders gently and placed his free hand upon hers.

"It's not the first time, is it though Tootie? You've said it yourself. Sometimes she stays away for days at a time," he said soothingly.

"I know," she said, replacing her glasses back onto her face. "It's just, the last thing I said about her was that she wasn't a proper sister. I was so angry at her, but when she didn't come home I got so worried. I mean, she just left. She didn't say a word and just went! She could be anywhere."

Timmy swallowed. Should he tell them about last night? About how Vicky had run away? Should he tell them what he knew, or at least what he thought he knew was causing Vicky to be so strange lately? He bit his lip. He couldn't tell them. It felt as though he would be betraying Vicky.

"I can go look for her, if you want," Timmy said. Tootie looked up at the boy.

"Why would you do that? She could be anywhere." Timmy shrugged.

"I just really don't want to go home," he said softly. Then he turned and walked away, before the couple had a chance to question him.