Finally, here it is! Thanks for being patient with me, you're all turbo-tastic!

Save Me from My Dark Side

Chapter Twenty-One

Turbo was thinking that if he ever saw ice cream again, it would be too soon. He didn't even care that there was chocolate readily available. With the added help of Snowanna and Nougetsia, they had been able to get more of the frozen dessert down the mountain and into the giant walk-in freezer that Candlehead kept at her cupcake house. She liked to have her own stash so she could make ice cream cakes, is why she owned one.

Candlehead's floor plan was about the same as Gloyd's only her house was a little bigger since she had that freezer, and she had lots of pinks, greens, and polka dots as the décor theme. Turbo felt out of place to be in such a girly house since he had grown accustomed to Gloyd's more masculine use of color.

"You're coming to my and Adora's ice skating party day after tomorrow, aren't you?" Nougetsia was asking him as she threw in the last tub of Cookies-and-Cream into the freezer.

This was the first he'd heard of it.

"Ice skating party?" Turbo parroted in confusion from his seat at Candlehead's round pink table in her kitchen.

"Duh, we only have one every other Saturday," she replied with a good-humored eye roll.

He looked skeptical. "Since when?"

"Since always," inserted Snowanna with a cocked brow, resting one hand on her hip in her typical sassy manner. "Not that you would've known about that since you never wanted to hang out with us, King Recluse."

Ouch.

He must have looked hurt by the comment because the dark-skinned girl softened her facial expression and began trying to reword what she said.

"I mean, you weren't exactly social so we didn't bother inviting you. We didn't think you'd come anyway."

Probably not. He'd been too concerned with his own damn self to worry about making friends…especially with children. The more time he spent with them though, the more Turbo found himself actually regretting that he hadn't done this before. They really weren't that bad of a group, and they acted more mature than he'd initially given them credit for…not to mention they were being nice to him. In fact, they were making him feel more welcome than he had ever felt over at TurboTime.

This must be how a "home" was supposed to feel like. Maybe Rosie had been onto something when she was trying to explain how homes worked to him last week when he'd freaked out on her over that nightmare he'd had.

Candlehead shattered his moment of reflection when she bounced in his lap to sit on him, issuing a small grunt of pain from him due to the sudden added weight.

"But you're invited now!" she exclaimed with a huge grin. "You want a soda?"

"Sure," he squeaked out, still in pain from her jumping on him like that. He felt instant relief when she slid off of him to go bounce to her refrigerator.

"We even made you a pair of skates!" Nougetsia announced happily as she and Snowanna each took a seat at the table. "Or, rather, Crumbelina did. She's a designer, you know."

He…didn't know that. To think, he lived here for fifteen years and wound up not knowing very much.

"Well, that explains why she randomly measured my boot a few days ago-OOF!"

Candlehead jumped in his lap again with her arms full of soda bottles, sliding two over to her peers and then popping the other two for herself and Turbo.

"Here ya go!"

He gently scooted her down to where she'd be sitting on his knee instead of his lap before saying, "That's really sweet, girls, but I'm afraid I've got two left feet."

"You do?" the cupcake-topped girl gasped in shock, bending over slightly in order to visually inspect his feet. Turbo pulled her by the back of her jacket to straighten her up, and the other two girls tried to hide a snicker. It wasn't uncommon for them to laugh at something Candlehead did or said behind her back or, heck, even if in front of her since she didn't usually get what the joke was.

"I mean I'm a total klutz," he rephrased his earlier statement for the misunderstood child's benefit. "I'll kill myself if I go out there."

Snowanna waved him off. "Nah, we'll help you, it's easy. Besides, you can't be any worse than Rancis." She shook her head at that. "Talk about no rhythm."

"Miss Rosie's coming," Nougetsia sang with a sly smile, as if to bait him into going.

"Oh great, I get to embarrass myself in front of the missus."

"It'll be romaaaantiiiic," she kept singing.

"No, it won't," Turbo sang back, matching her tune. "Because falling on your molasses is the farthest thing from romantic as you can get."

They all cracked up at that, a chorus of girlish giggles filling up the room instantly. He wasn't entirely sure what he said that was so funny but he felt himself smile regardless. He had thought he'd be uncomfortable being around the little girls, but they were just as easy to get along with as the boys, if not more so.

Strange, considering the last time he had been in Sugar Rush, he had been tied up and used as a living piñata.

"You're still coming," Snowanna insisted once her giggles subsided. "And of course to the Anniversary Party."

"I doubt I have a choice in that matter."

"You don't!" Candlehead piped up with a huge grin. "President's orders!"

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered rhetorically to himself.

"It'll be loads of fun this year!" proclaimed Nougetsia happily, then her face fell and she sunk down in her seat, looking shyly at Turbo. "Not that they weren't fun when you threw them or anything."

Candlehead turned her head towards Turbo with a large grin on her face. "We're going to Dance Dance Revolution this year!"

He felt a sick, sinking feel in the pit of his stomach upon hearing that. "Why aren't you having it here?"

"Vanellope wanted to do something different," explained Snowanna with a casual shrug. "It'll be her first Anniversary Party and she wants it to be the biggest and best party ever."

He couldn't blame her for that, since she had never been invited to a single party during his reign as king. Now that he knew what it felt like to be shunned by society, he could all but imagine how it must have felt for her to not be invited to anything all those years without a single friend to keep her company. Actually, he did know what is what like to not have any friends around. It made him feel pretty crummy being the one responsible for her having to suffer with that.

As if she knew she was getting talked about, Vanellope just happened to knock on the door at that time, wanting to see how the ice cream mission went. Candlehead had just allowed her in when Turbo got up from his seat and dragged the president by her hoodie right back outside, saying he needed to talk to her.

"What's your beef?" Vanellope wanted to know once they were outside the house in private.

"That's what I wanted to ask you!" Turbo informed her, poking her in the nose with a finger, making her blink and step back. "I just found out you're throwing the Anniversary Party at DDR!"

She shrugged her shoulders, a bored look on her face. "Yeah, so?"

"So? So, I can't go in there!" he all but shouted at her, not angrily but more in a panicked tone, and making wild gestures with his arms. "I'm banned from that game! Yuni herself had her two macho steroid-injected guards throw me out!"

She blew a raspberry and said, "Stop worrying so much, diaper baby, I took care of all that already."

Turbo stared at her in disbelief. "You did?"

"Of course, crazy guy," she said in an exasperated voice, as if he should have known this already. "Me and Rosie went by there to reserve some tables and junk, and Yuni said you could come if you stayed with us and behaved yourself."

Wow, Rosie had been keeping herself busier than Turbo had thought she'd been. First, she got approval to get him into Street Fighter II and now he was being allowed in Dance Dance Revolution…the two games that he had gotten forcefully thrown out of just last week. He had definitely picked a keeper, that's for sure.

"Besides, unless you just want to spend the rest of your life going back and forth between here and Hammer Time's place," she continued, referring to Felix's game, "you need to get out there in public and show that you've been a good boy."

"Yeah, that didn't exactly work the first time around," Turbo related, his shoulders sagging a bit.

"But you didn't have a posse of adorable little children helping you either," Vanellope pointed out with her most charming smile, her big eyes batting her lashes at him to help sell the cuteness factor to him.

Okay, fine….he was starting to think they were kinda cute…even if they did have big heads and over-sized eyes. He blew his breath out, still not sure if it was a good idea or not.

"Come on, you can trust me," the candy-haired girl persisted, still giving him a big smile. "Even if somebody did want to hurt you, they wouldn't dare do it around us sweet innocent angels, would they?"

It was humorous to envision a herd of kids being his personal bodyguards out in public and he couldn't help but get a laugh out of that…that and the comment she made about them being angels. They weren't exactly devils but they were far from angels as well. Then again, so was he.

"All right...I trust you."

If he didn't know better, he'd say Vanellope grinned victoriously.

Turbo could have sworn he heard something. He was back out in the Candy Corn Fields, this time just him and the boys. They were tying off the last of the stalks that needed to be cut down later in order to make the maze paths and there was only one more half-acre to go. He had gone off a bit further by himself when they had started bickering about who could burp their ABC's the best. Not caring to be part of that conversation, Turbo just kept trudging through the stalks until he couldn't hear them anymore.

That was when he heard what sounded like someone whispering "Pssst!" at him. On his guard, he stood still in one place to try and determine what direction the noise had come from. He heard something move behind him and he swung around, fully prepared to throw a punch should he find himself in danger. When he saw who it was, he relaxed his arm but a glaring scowl appeared on his face.

"Whoa, Turbs," Officer Bob laughed as he pushed some corn stalks out of the way with one hand, the other pressed to his heart as if he'd really been frightened. "Geez, gonna give a feller a heart attack."

"What are you doing here?" the racer bit angrily, remembering what Rosie had said about him possibly trying to kill him in that car accident.

"Aww, now, don't be like that," the policeman was saying in his most friendly tone. He tried to pat the other man's shoulder, but he moved out of the way before he could do so.

"Don't you dare come up to me and act like nothing's wrong," Turbo growled, keeping at least a foot's distance between them. "You almost got me killed."

Bob waved both his hands at him dismissively and chuckled. "That was just a joke, man! We weren't trying to do anything to you. Hell, we were all drunk, we didn't know what we were doing any more than you did."

Turbo supposed that could be true but he wasn't stupid enough to believe him fully or even trust anything he said. Plus, if Rosie said he was bad news then he'd take her word for it.

"Even if that's true, that doesn't explain why you're here," he replied with his arms crossed, steering the conversation back to where he had wanted it to go originally.

Bob's wide toothy grin radiated of sleaziness, something Turbo couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before. The officer looked around him in a condescending manner as if he believed it was beneath him to even step foot in this type of environment.

"Well, I heard you were stuck back in this sugar-coated nightmare of a game, surrounded by all these kids, and thought you might need a friend to keep you company."

He pulled a flask from inside his uniform shirt and Turbo's eyes widened, now realizing what the purpose in this unanticipated visit was.

"Ain't no better friend than Jack Daniels," Bob said in a coaxing tone in order to lure him into taking it.

The racer rubbed the back of his neck fretfully. He hadn't had a drink since he came here; honestly, he had only thought about it once or twice, but nothing had happened to make him really desire the taste of liquor.

"I…I don't think I should," he told the cop, his eyes betraying him by staying glued to the flask in his hand.

"Come on, just a sip won't hurt," Bob pressed him, shaking the contents of the flask enough to let him hear the alcohol inside. "Might make being around the rugrats more tolerable. Have your own private party without them crawling all over you."

Turbo felt his mouth water at the thought of having something that wasn't overwhelmingly sugary running down his throat. He could have just one sip, that wouldn't hurt. Kids wouldn't ever know it happened and Rosie sure didn't have to find out. He could even eat a cob of candy corn to disguise the smell on his breath.

Just one little…

He shook his head back and forth decisively, casting the temptation from his mind. "No. That's not a good idea."

Bob gave him a malicious look, one that Turbo could honestly say he'd never seen on him before. Then again, he apparently didn't know the guy all that well so he had no idea that that was actually his usual way of looking at people. He shoved the flask angrily back where he had pulled it out from, keeping his glare on the racer.

"You'll change your mind," Bob told him as if he was warning him. "Just like you did the first time, you'll come crawling back by the end of the day."

Turbo had his own glare fixated on his false friend, his nerves on edge just in case he decided to try something. To think that they had gotten along with each other back in the pre-RoadBlasters days.

"Get the hell out," he growled through clenched teeth, his hands curling into fists beside him.

"Or what?" Bob jeered at him with an arrogant smile. "You gonna kill me if I don't?"

Damn, that stung. However, instead of inciting a bout of depression in him, the comment actually pissed him off more. Bob thought maybe he'd finally said something to get Turbo to start a fight with him, when suddenly the angry face that the racer had been wearing turned into more of a playful smirk.

"No," he answered him, his mischievous eyes focused on something that was behind Bob. "I'm going to sic a very territorial fire-breathing uni-candy-corn on you."

The remark was so random and bizarre that Bob thought maybe the racer had lost his marbles, until he smelt something really fruity behind him and felt a puff of hot breath on the back of his neck. The policeman turned around slowly and came face to face with the most ridiculous looking animal he'd ever seen.

"Skittles doesn't like strangers," he heard Turbo say in an amused tone. "I'd run if I were you."

The pink behemoth roared angrily and flames erupted from his nostrils, and that was all the incentive Bob needed to get the heck outta Dodge. Screaming shrilly at the top of his lungs, he tore off through the fields being chased by Skittles who was steadily blowing a stream of fire at him.

After about five minutes, Skittles came trotting back to Turbo, nuzzling at the side of his helmet affectionately and nickering softly. The racer gave him a few well-earned pats and then dug in his pocket for the little packet of sugar cubes he now kept with him. He offered Skittles a few, who munched on them happily.

"Good pony."

"That one looks like a bunny."

Turbo tilted his head an inch and squinted. "I think it looks like a cloud."

"You always say that," Rosie chuckled warmly.

They were laying in the sweet tea flower meadow watching the clouds, her head resting against his shoulder in the crook of his arm so he could fold it around her and his other arm folded back behind his head for extra cushion.

"Fine, it looks like cotton candy," he modified his answer cheekily with a small grin.

Rosie rolled her eyes playfully and turned onto her side towards him so she could snuggle, throwing an arm over his chest comfortably while he combed the ends of her hair with his fingers. It was so nice to be enjoying a favorite pastime together again. The only sound in the air was that of the nearby hot chocolate spring bubbling and the occasional howl of wind coming from the Ice Cream Mountains.

"You're my best friend," Turbo conveyed to her fondly, talking just above a whisper.

She smiled happily to herself. "You're mine, too."

"Hey, remember when you were trying to explain about…about homes not being a place? It's where you feel like you belong at, or something?"

"I made it sound confusing," she muttered sheepishly.

"No, I've been thinking it over lately and you were right," he assured her, giving her a little rub on her back. "I always thought TurboTime was the only place I ever belonged at, but after everything that's gone on this week, I figured that I never really belonged there either unless I was winning a first place trophy. You're the first person that made me feel like I was really wanted, no matter where we went.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're 'home' to me, too," he concluded, borrowing a phrase she had mentioned over a week ago.

Rosie sighed in contentment and gave him a little squeeze. "You're a real sweetheart sometimes."

"I aim to please," he lightly jested before turning his eyes back up to the clouds. "That one looks kinda like a bunny."

He was going to pay for that. If that bastard thought he'd seen the last of him, well he was very badly mistaken. Bob sat in Game Central Station on his usual bench with his arms crossed and staring into space with an evil look on his face. Even Freddy and Candy were more scared than they usually were of him.

"Hey, Bob, you okay?" Freddy decided to ask after fifteen minutes of trying to ignore this behavior.

"Don't talk to me, freak," the cop snapped, still not moving a muscle. "I'm so damn pissed. Everyone around here is talking about how that murderer is starting to show a soft side, thanks to those little sugar brats running around out here in their spare time heaping praises on him like he was their best friend or something. Before long, people are going to think he isn't that bad of a guy."

Bob raised his head up, blankly glaring into the crowd of people before him, minding their own business and transporting themselves to whatever game they wanted to visit.

"I can't have that," he continued darkly. "I can't live in a world where people think that it's okay to accept filth into our society, allowing the risk of them polluting the rest of us."

Candy and Freddy exchanged worried glances but kept their mouths shut, knowing he'd only get outraged if they said something.

I have to do something to make that bastard screw up, he thought maniacally to himself. Hit him where it would really hurt, something to make him act like the nutjob he really is.

He sat there and pondered silently. After a few moments, his scowl turned slowly into a devious grin as he came up with the obvious answer to his problem.

Home. Hit him close to home.

Not yet, though. Wait a spell, until the time's right. Now was not the time to act hastily.