A/N: I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who still reads this, and I want to assure you that I have not forgotten it at all. In fact, it plagues my every waking thought that I am not progressing as much as I should. But I have finally beaten my writer's block, and what better proof of that than Chapter 17?

By the way, I have discovered the best cure for writer's block. As I idly browsed deviantArt, not writing this story as I should have been, I came across green bird of blue sky's gallery, and discovered some beautiful, stunning amazing artwork based on this fiction. My actual story! I was so moved by what I saw, (especially the picture entitled 'Where Is My Mind?', which couldn't be a more accurate portrayal of Vicky's darker times in this fic), that I was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt for not pushing myself a little harder on this. Thank you so so so so much, gb of bs, you are a very talented artist and my gratitude is eternally yours.

So without further ado, let us journey onwards. Thanks for the support guys!

Chapter 17 - She Fell

When Vicky had arrived home that morning, the scene that met her had been much like she expected. Empty bottles and discarded clothes littered the carpets all through her house, and the stench of strong liquor was overwhelming. It caused a tightening in Vicky's stomach that was so intense it caused her eyes to tear, as much through nausea as it did through memories. The pungent smell, no matter how foul it was, still made Vicky long for one tiny drop of liquid numbness, to quiet her aching heart. She shook her head and pulled a face. Vicky was net yet over feeling disgusted with herself, and a part of her ever doubted she would be. She smoothed her messy hair out of her eyes and tried not to think about it. Her life was on a gradual upturn, and she would not ruin it by running to the arms of the monster she was trying to escape.

There were thankfully no passed out party-goers to be found in her house after a quick search. While this was is some ways relieving, Vicky was slightly worried to find that her parents were not home either. Their car was missing too, and with a dreadful jolt Vicky hoped and prayed that it had been someone sober in charge of the keys. She had checked Tootie's room, not expecting her sister to have returned from Chester's yet, and was quite surprised to find the raven haired girl there, asleep on the floor. Her bed looked as though it had been ruined, and it was clear that when Tootie had returned in the small hours of the morning, she hadn't had the energy to change the sheets and remove whatever debauchery had carried on there last night. Vicky sighed, and shut the door gently.

It was then that she turned her attention to the gargantuan task of tidying her house. She grabbed a few garbage bags from her kitchen and began tossing empty beer cans and wine bottles into them. It was sure to take a while, but she really had no plans for the rest of the day or indeed, the rest of her life.

After having cleared most of the table downstairs, she found that there were sill a few bottle of wine that had managed to survive the night unopened. Her first instinct was to toss them in the trash with the rest of the empties, but as she curled her hand around the smooth glass of one of the bottles, she heard a tiny voice in the back of her mind pipe up at her not to do it. They were still full after all, and they would last quite a while if her parents chose to drink them some other time. Instead she placed them back on the table, resolving to put them back in the wine rack when she was done, and returned to her task.

By the time she had finished just tidying away garbage, it was already midday and her sister was still asleep. There was still much to be done, with stains and smears that lined the walls and carpets needing to be removed, and broken furniture needed to be fixed or thrown out. She was just about to get started on a green smear on her living room wall when she heard a knock at the door. Sighing, she set her bucket and sponge down and headed to her hallway.

"Vicky... uh, hi," Timmy said nervously as she opened the door.

"Hey," she said in a small sigh. She had noticed that Chester was there, but one glance at his face had shown what a depressing mood he was in, and Vicky was not good at dealing with other people's darkness. "You want Tootie?" she asked, directing her question at the space between the two boys.

"Um, yeah," Chester muttered, but it wasn't in the usual, frightened tones he reserved for Vicky. It was with an almost tired voice that he spoke the words, as though he could see no point in filling his misery with talking.

"She's asleep, but I can wake her if you want," Vicky said with a shrug. She felt as though she were on the verge of panicking, but for the love of her she couldn't explain why. "Or you can go up," she continued, "but Tootie might not be too happy with you seeing the state of her room."

"It doesn't matter," Chester said, stepping past Vicky's thin frame. "I know it wasn't her fault." He trudged up the stairs without another word, leaving Vicky and Timmy to stand on opposite sides of the door, entertaining an uncomfortable silence.

"You er.. well, what you up to?" Timmy finally managed to say.

"Nothing much, just tidying," Vicky mumbled, looking at her feet.

"You want some help?" Timmy offered. He looked at her with his innocent bright eyes and Vicky raised her own dull, sunken ones to meet them. He had a small smile on his face, and though Vicky loved it for some reason it made her so mad. She was angry at him for treating this way, all smiles and kind words, after everything she had done to him. She knew that she had already had this argument with herself but her opinion still hadn't changed. She still deserved to suffer for what she had done, and perhaps the reason she was so mad at Timmy was because she thought this was it. He was going to build her hopes up and then strike her down. It was no less than she deserved but she really wasn't certain if she could take it anymore.

"No, it's ok," she replied, a little harsher than she had meant to. "I mean, I'm nearly done now anyway."

If anything Timmy seemed not to notice the way in which Vicky was speaking to him, and with a small pang of sadness she couldn't help but wonder if that was because it was the way she had spoken to him his whole life. "Oh, well, you want to do something when your done? I've got no plans and I think Chester will want to spend today with Tootie," he said, still grinning. The bubble of rage in her chest seemed to burst at this point, and she just wished se would stop smiling at her. He made her feel dirty, as though she had tricked him somehow into forgiving her. Deep down she knew that she didn't really want Timmy to love her, she wanted him to hate her, so she could continue punishing herself for all the things she ever did wrong.

"Look, I can't ok?" she said irritably. "I've got other things to do today."

"Like what?" Timmy asked, a little confused.

"Just things!" Vicky said, her voice so loud she was nearly shouting.

"Um, ok," Timmy said, taking a step back. Vicky closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the hurt look on his face. "Some other time then maybe?" he suggested.

"Whatever," Vicky replied, closing the door softly but still closing it on Timmy all the same. She didn't wait by the door to hear his footsteps fade down the garden path but instead returned at once to her cleaning. She reached into her bucket of soapy warm water and pulled out her sponge, ringing out the excess fiercely between her hands. God, why was she such a screw up? She slammed the sponged against the wall, spotting herself with little bubbles of detergent. She hated herself for not being able to accept Timmy's kindness, especially when she craved it so much. She swiped the sponge angrily back and forth across the stain, trying to focus all the rage she felt for herself onto this task, so that by the time the wall was clean she was exhausted. She dropped the sponge back into the bucket and fell to her knees, sobbing as a pain wracked her body, her fingers crammed into her mouth so that her sister wouldn't hear.

-

Timmy found himself walking to the mall alone that afternoon, his head buzzing with a thousand thoughts that he couldn't comprehend. Why was Vicky being so hot and cold towards him? She so clearly needed someone to reach out to her and help her through this, but as he walked past a familiar coffee shop again he realised that it shouldn't be him. He shouldn't be around her when obviously, what she really wanted to do was not love him anymore. Timmy stopped, just pausing for a second to assess that which he had finally realised.

It should have been clear to Timmy from the outset that just because Vicky was in love with him it didn't mean she wanted to be. In fact, she would have been a fool to want it as clearly she thought he would never love her back. She was perhaps right, he thought as he picked up his pace again. After everything she had done, there was no way he could ever truly love her. He may have told her had forgiven her, but as he thought back to all the very worst things she had put him through, he was starting to wonder if he had really meant it.

He felt the monster inside his chest again. The deep seated sorrow and grief that had taken up residence since Cosmo and Wanda had been taken away. It funny, really, how he seemed to notice it less whenever Vicky was around. That despite the fact that she was more messed up than he was, and he was taking care of her instead of the other way around, she managed to make him feel better. About everything. He knew that there would be a trial soon, and he knew that he would lose his fairies. There was no doubt about that as there was no reason for him to keep them anymore. And though he knew it would hurt like hell a little voice inside him told him that he would make it through just fine if Vicky was there to help him do it. He had realised it, but he had come to depend on her company as much as she had come to depend on his kindness. But it would be wrong for him to use her as comfort when she felt the way she did, and in that moment he knew that he had to stay away.

Chester was right. There was nothing left in Vicky to save, but if Timmy stayed around he would destroy the little she had left.

-

"What happened to your dress?"

Tootie sighed and cast her eyes to her wardrobe, where her favourite party dress was hanging on a hook over the door. It was missing a sleeve, and it had a disgusting brown vomit stain down the front that had seeped onto her lush pink carpet. Chester had just finished telling her everything that had happened and everything that he was due to go through, and suddenly frivolous details like stupid dresses didn't seem to matter anymore. Tootie shrugged.

"Who knows? It's trash now," she said, getting to her feet and tearing it down. She bundled it into a ball and threw it into her waste paper basket.

"How come you had it hanging up?" Chester asked, sniffing and rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. He was exhausted now, and had said all he wanted to say on the subject of his father.

"Oh, I was supposed to be going to a party tonight. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come, but now it's really not important, is it?" She squeezed his hand tightly, and managed to raise just a glimmer of a smile from him.

"You should still go," he said stoutly. Tootie shook her head.

"No, no I couldn't, you need me tonight," she said firmly.

"I could go to," he said, giving her a brave, full on smile. "You know, something to take my mind off of... everything." Tootie wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

"Don't force yourself to do anything you don't feel up to, it's not worth it. I wasn't even all that excited about going really," Tootie said honestly.

"No, it'll be good for me," Chester replied. "I can't mope around forever, can I?"

"If you're sure..." Tootie said, fixing her boyfriend with a sideways stare.

"I'm sure," Chester said, getting to his feet and pulling Tootie to hers by her hand. "But I suppose we should hit the mall now though," he said with a mock sigh. "You really can't wear that anymore." He pointed a finger at her waste paper basket.

"True," she replied with a gentle laugh.

-

When Vicky heard footsteps on the stairs she quickly pulled herself to her feet and rubbed her streaming eyes. She grabbed her sponge from the bucket once more and began scrubbing, even though the section of wall she was by was quite clean now. Her sister came into the room, closely followed by Chester, who Vicky felt almost pleased to see was looking a little happier than he did. She didn't really know the boy that well, but he was still her sister's boyfriend, and she was sure that his state of mind would surely affect hers.

"Hey Vicky," her sister said as she sat down on a chair to pull her boots on.

"Hey Toot," Vicky replied, trying not to look at her sister so she wouldn't see her face. Unfortunately for her, though, she was not good enough to hide it.

"Have you been crying?" Tootie asked. Vicky felt herself going red as Chester was now also staring at her, trying to gauge her mood.

"Um, no," she said with a sniff. "It's the chemicals making my eyes itch," she said, pointing to the bucket at her feet. Tootie followed the line of Vicky's finger, and suddenly her face fell into a guilty expression.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry Vicky. I didn't mean to leave you alone to do all this," she said sadly. "Do you want any help?"

"No, it's ok. Looks like you two are off out somewhere, so you may as well go and enjoy yourselves."

"It's only the stupid mall," Tootie said simply. "I don't mind staying."

"No, really, it's fine," Vicky insisted, just wishing her sister would get out of the house before she broke down again.

"Well, then, do you want to come with us?" Tootie asked. "I'm sure all this mess will still be here when we get back."

"I'd rather get it done Toot. I don't mind cleaning, it... uh, it relaxes me," she lied.

"But Vicky..." Tootie protested.

"Just take her will you," Vicky said, now addressing Chester with mock sincerity. He beamed at her and gave her a strange kind of salute, before grabbing Tootie by the hand and dragging her from the room. Vicky didn't breathe out again until she heard the front door close behind them. She grabbed her bucket and moved on to the next stain, concentrating on nothing else but making sure that the house sparkled.

-

Even though the mall was quite a big place, it didn't take Chester and Tootie too long to run into Timmy. He had been sat at the same table of the coffee house for hours now, his mind buzzing with sadness as his thoughts refused to leave Cosmo and Wanda. He would have giving anything just to be able to see them and make sure they were alright. He wanted to hold them and tell them he was sorry he had gotten them into so much trouble. He was just trying not to concern himself with what their punishments might be when his thought train was interrupted.

"Hey, Timmy, what are you doing here?" Chester's voice interjected, jolting Timmy from his mind. He smiled a little, glad that Tootie had managed to cheer his best friend up.

"Nothing much," he replied, taking the last sip of his coffee and tossing the paper cup into the trash can beside him. "What about you?" Tootie held up a shopping bag in response to this that contained her new dress for the party tonight. "Ah," Timmy said.

"There's a party at Trixie's this evening," Tootie said. "You wanna come?" She flashed a knowing smile at him and Chester gave him a jaunty wink. They both knew how he felt about Trixie Tang, but it Timmy was honest with himself he really hadn't thought about her for weeks. His thoughts had been taken up by a completely different girl.

"I dunno," he said, shifting in his seat. "I don't know if I'm up for it."

"Come on Timmy, please?" Chester asked. "It'll be fun, I promise, or your money back." He beamed a winning smile at him and sat down in the chair next to him while Tootie went to get them all drinks. "Trixie will be there, and you know she broke up with Peter over a month ago. She must be looking for fresh meat by now."

"I'd expect Trixie to be there," Timmy said dryly. "It's her party."

"Just come along with us. I mean, you've been a bit sullen the last few days and besides, it could do you good to remind that not all girls are like Vicky." Chester raised his eyebrows at his friend.

I know not all girls are like Vicky, Timmy thought defiantly. That's why I like her so much.

"Look, if you're not having a good time in the first half hour, you can leave, no questions asked, ok?"

Timmy sighed as Tootie set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of him. "Fine," he said irritably, hoping that a party would at least take his mind off of his grandparents for at least five minutes.

-

Tootie went home alone that evening as Timmy and Chester scoured the mall for something that Timmy could wear. When she got to her house, she was surprised to find it absolutely gleaming. Tootie didn't think that Vicky could have done it, as she wasn't the tidiest person she knew. Her sister was in the garden when she arrived, staring around at the vacant lawn as if she had forgotten something.

"You ok Vicky?" Tootie asked.

"Huh?" Vicky said, turning around to face her sister. "I was just wondering where all the flowers went..." she said in almost a whisper. "It must have been a dream." She shook her head and walked up to her sister, pointing at her purchases that day. "What's in the bag?" she asked, as both girls went inside.

"A new dress for this party tonight. I should start getting ready I suppose," Tootie replied.

"Party?" Vicky said lightly.

"Oh, right, I didn't tell you. Trixie Tang's having this get-together tonight, I'm not really sure what it's all about." Vicky's eyes narrowed childishly at the mention of Trixie's name. "Chester and Timmy are coming too."

"Timmy?" Vicky said, before she could stop herself.

"Uh, yeah. I think Chester plans on getting him and Trixie together, but I don't think it'll ever happen. She's too stuck up if you ask me."

"Really?" Vicky said evenly, her mind now a blaze of hot white fury. She couldn't believe how jealous she was. She knew that Timmy liked Trixie and she really didn't think that he liked her in that way. She had no right to feel bitter over who he did and didn't like. It didn't matter anyway because it would clearly never be her.

"I know he'd like to..." she trailed off, as there was something about the words she was saying that made her feel as if they were all wrong. She could see that the conversation was making her sister uncomfortable, but she never in a million years would have guessed why. "Well, I'll go and get dressed then," Tootie said hurriedly, and she disappeared up the stairs.

-

Timmy had drunk beer before, but never in such large amounts. Usually it was a six-pack that Chester had swiped from his dad that they would drink while they played video games together. It had made him tipsy once or twice, but it had never made him as intoxicated as he was now. His head swam as loud music blared in his ears, and he didn't trust himself to get up off the floor in case he couldn't walk. He had lost Chester and Tootie a long time ago, he had both become very giggly and had disappeared into one of the many bedrooms in Trixie's house. He now found himself on the floor in her hallway, sharing drunken laments with Peter, now Trixie's ex.

"She never loved me you know," Peter slurred, waving his plastic cup under Timmy's nose and sloshing beer down his jeans.

"Mm," Timmy agreed, finding himself unable to form coherent words. He knew he was quite far gone, yet there was an irrational need inside him to have more beer.

"Not like I loved her either you understand," Peter continued, taking a large gulp of his drink.

"Yeah," Timmy grunted, trying to get to his feet.

"Hey, where you going?" Peter demanded, waving his hand around erratically.

"Just to get another drink," Timmy replied. "Don't move," he said, staggering a little, "I'll be right back."

He stumbled to the large table that had been erected in the middle of the gigantic living room and pulled a plastic cup from the top of the stack. There was a large keg in the centre of the room, around which jocks and cheerleaders swarmed as though they were protecting it from thieves. After five minutes of waiting he finally managed to get his cup under the tap wile someone, he didn't know who, pressed it down and filled up his cup. He raised his glass in thanks to the room in general and staggered away. not really intending to return to Peter at all. Instead he spotted Trixie, herself a little worse for drink, sitting alone on a window cushion and gazing out at the street while she methodically sipped from her own beer.

The alcohol had instilled an ill-placed confidence in Timmy, and something inside him told him that if he just said all the right words in the right order, Trixie would be his.

"Hey Trixie," he mumbled, grinning at her. She turned to face him, and a wide drunken smile spread across her face.

"Hey everyone, it's Timmy!" she announced to no one in particular. He sat down next to her, which she didn't seem to mind, and tipped some of his beer into her cup to top it up. "Thanks," she said, fluttering her eyelashes and taking a sip.

"Having fun?" he asked her, swaying a little.

"Oh yeah," she replied firmly. "Best party ever."

"It really is," Timmy agreed, drinking half of his beer in one gulp. "I heard you and Peter broke up, huh?"

"Yeah, he was... you know, that thing," she slurred.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Timmy replied.

"I didn't love him, you know," she said, poking a finger into Timmy's chest.

"He mentioned," Timmy said with a nod.

"It complicates things though, love," Trixie said, spitting the words out as though she hated the taste.

"Tell me about it," Timmy said, his drunken thoughts straying to Vicky. He smiled a little half-smile.

"Whatcha thinking?" Tootie asked flirtatiously.

"About a girl," Timmy replied.

"Is it me?" Trixie asked with a giggle. Timmy turned to face her. Her dark chocolate eyes looked so beautiful, framed by her perfect porcelain skin. Not like Vicky, whose thin, pale lips and sunken eyes were pushed from his mind. Trixie's ruby red lips pouted at him, and he licked his own in response.

"Yeah," he said, feeling rather hot and dizzy. He leaned in to kiss her.

-

Vicky had fallen asleep on the sofa watching television when she was awoken by a loud crash. She jumped to her feet and sped to the front door, where Chester lay sprawled on the floor and Tootie was stood over him, laughing like a banshee. Vicky chanced a small smile. "Little bit drunk, are we?" she asked playfully.

"A little," Tootie conceded in a whisper, holding up her hand with her thumb and forefinger and inch apart.

"You ok down there?" Vicky asked Chester. He scrambled to his feet and smoothed down his shirt.

"Fine, he replied. "Just fine."

"Well, keep it down. Mom and dad are asleep upstairs," Vicky hushed them. Both Chester and Tootie gave Vicky emphatic nods, and then made and over the top show of tip-toeing into the living room. Vicky followed them, an amused grin plastered on her face. "Sit down," she told them. "I'll make you something to eat... maybe get you some coffee," she mumbled as she walked into the kitchen.

When she returned with two mugs and a plate of sandwiches, Chester had fallen asleep and was drooling all over Tootie's shoulder. "That's men for you,2 Tootie said with a small laugh, taking the sandwiches from Vicky and beginning to devour them mercilessly. "I'm starving," she said, through mouthfuls of bread.

"You don't say," Vicky said, with a shake of her head. "Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah," Tootie said, nodding. "The bits I can remember were fantastic."

"Well it won't be as fun tomorrow," Vicky said solemnly.

"You'd know," Tootie said, pointing her sandwich at her sister and not seeming to notice how much her words had hurt. Vicky shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Yeah," she said quietly. Tootie munched in silence for a while, her eyes fixed on the television screen, and Vicky followed suit, trying to ignore all the words and memories that were floating around her head. There came a scene in the show they were watching where a young couple were kissing on a porch swing.

"Heh, that reminds me," said Tootie, who seemed to be a little more sober now that she had had something to eat and drink. "I wonder how Timmy got on."

"Hmm? With what?" Vicky asked, trying not to seem to interested.

"With Trixie, of course," Tootie said, turning to her sister. "When Chester and I left they were sitting by the window, trying to eat each others faces. I wonder who'll regret it most in the morning?"

Vicky didn't answer. Her heart had just dropped like a stone into her stomach, and an old fire had resurfaced in her mind. She felt as though someone had literally reached inside and just begun pulling at whatever they could, the pain was so great. Try as she might she couldn't stop herself from imagining Timmy, his lips locked with Trixie Tangs, all thoughts of her forgotten. She had already told herself off that day for being mad at Timmy if he dared to look at other girls, but she found she wasn't mad at him. She was just hurt. Devastated that it wasn't her. She closed her eyes as the tears came, and she got to her feet before she burst into tears.

"I'm going to bed," she said quickly, dashing up the stairs to her bedroom before Tootie could question her. She threw herself face down onto her bed and let the tears flow. She cried for what felt like hours, and she wasn't pulled from it until she heard the front door slam. It was probably Tootie leaving to take Chester home. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, before snaking her hand down the side of her bed to a box she had stored beneath it. For a second she hesitated, but then she pulled it out and got up to kneel beside it. Lifting of the lid, she closed her fingers around the smooth glass of a bottle and picked it out. Then she dived into her bedside drawer and removed a corkscrew that she still kept there, for emergencies, she told herself. She plunged the spike through the metallic wrapper and into the cork below, twisting the handle fiercely as her eyes filled once more with angry tears. The cork slid out with a soft pop, and she brought the bottle to her lips.

She had meant to put them away. She really had.