Now to break it to Tamora. And that was definitely something easier said than done.

Felix had a lot of thinking to do, which seemed to be the case a lot of the time, here lately. He found his legs taking him out to his usual thinking spot—the Niceland River. It wasn't much, as far as rivers go, but it was relaxing to hear the trickle of the water and watch the pixels float by.

The handyman sat at the edge, legs splayed, reclining on his elbows. If he were being completely honest with himself, he really hadn't planned on telling Turbo all he had. But once he'd actually gotten face-to-face with his favorite racer, all of his prior planning crumbled apart like a chunk of sheetrock crunched in his fist.

It seemed like every time he stepped into that prison cell with Turbo, a divine hand reached down with a drink stirrer, stuck it through his ear canal, and scrambled his brain into a froth with it.

It was kind of a nightmare, really. But…a good nightmare.

"Come here often?" came a voice off to Felix's left. He didn't have to turn his head to know who it was. Felix grinned at the comment. The giant of a man toppled his huge frame unceremoniously to the grass.

"Hello, Ralph," Felix greeted in what he hoped was a chipper enough voice, but he wasn't so sure. "I'm just taking a gander at the river for a minute or two…clearing up my thoughts."

Ralph hummed his understanding. "So I saw you heading out last night," he said. "Another date with Calhoun, eh?"

Light blue pixel waves floated down the dark blue of the river. Felix watched a trail of them snake past. "Well, actually, I went over to Sugar Rush. To see Turbo."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about that," Ralph said. "How was he? A jerk, I'm guessing."

It wasn't really a secret that Ralph didn't care for Turbo. Actually, "didn't care" was being pretty generous. "Wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire" would be more like it. But Felix supposed he understood.

"Oh, no, Turbo was just fine," Felix said. A little aggravated at first, Felix thought, but he'd…warmed up. "It's just that…well, we had a little chat about…things. I'll spare you the details, I know you probably don't—"

"Nah, let's hear it," Ralph said. "Remember what I told you a few days ago? About me knowing a thing or two about romance?" Ralph waggled his bushy eyebrows. "Maybe I can throw my two cents in."

So Felix filled him in on the previous night's events…skipping over the kissing portion of the encounter.

"You let Turbo know you still have feelings for him?"

"I hadn't exactly meant to," Felix said. "It just came out, I suppose. But, yes."

"And he actually said the same thing to you?"

"He did," Felix said, trying and failing to keep the excitement out of his voice. This whole business might be a confusing mess of things, but it was nice to have feelings reciprocated, regardless. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. "In fact, I think he was a might nervous about admitting it. His old speech impediment, you know? From King Candy? It somehow…returned."

"Well, that's kinda crazy," Ralph said. "I wonder if he frazzled his code or something. People don't just switch back and forth between a lisp and no lisp, do they? I mean…that's gotta do with the way you position your tongue or something, dunnit?"

A square-looking bug skittered across the top of the water. "I think he was just a little scared."

"I just can't even imagine Turbo being so…" Ralph stuck his tongue out in disgust. "Sweet."

"He's a nice fella," Felix said. "He's got a short fuse, and I can tell he has a whole heap of trouble holding back his anger.

But," he sighed. "He has his good side. You just have to get to know him, is all."

Ralph shrugged. "If you say so," he said with obvious skepticism.

"I know he's…widely disliked," Felix said. "Which makes everything all the harder."

"And by everything, you mean…?"

He huffed out a sigh. "It's hard enough that Turbo is…well, he's in prison, obviously. I have to go to him, he can't very well come to me. And they do let me into his cell, which is something, at least, but they put cuffs on his wrists and his ankles, which is…a little on the awkward side."

"Can't really fault them for doing that, though," Ralph noted.

"I suppose not," Felix agreed. "You can never be too careful, I understand that. But the other issue at hand is a lot more stressing."

"I'm guessing it's got something to do with Calhoun," Ralph said.

"Indeed it does," Felix said. "Not just her, but," Felix made a wide arc with his arms, "everyone. They all love her."

"She is a nice lady."

"I know she is," Felix fretted. "She's really swell, she truly is, but…"

Ralph shrugged. "You just don't love her," he said simply.

Felix pinched his lips together. "No. I don't. A part of me wishes I did, it would simplify my life something awful." He placed his elbows on his knees, his face coming to rest in his palms. "But I can't help how I feel, I suppose."

"Have you broken the news to her yet?" Ralph asked. Then he added, "Wait, I doubt it. I don't see any holes in your gut or any limbs missing, you look like you're still in one piece to me."

"Exactly," Felix said. "I have no idea how I'm going to tell her. In fact, I haven't even decided on whether I'm telling her about Turbo or not."

"She'll find out sooner or later."

"I know, but I just don't know how she'd take the news. It's enough that I'm, for lack of a better term, breaking up with her. But telling her that there's someone else on top of that…would it not hurt her too badly?"

"Dunno," Ralph said. "Maybe tell her about Turbo later. Unless it just comes up in conversation, then I'd spill it. Don't lie about it."

"I surely won't lie about anything," Felix nodded. "How would you do it, Ralph?"

"Do what, tell Tamora you're not, uh…romantically interested anymore?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Ralph thought for a moment. "Well, first of all, I would do it someplace public."

"Public, definitely."

"And this is just my opinion, but I don't think I'd do it in a restaurant or something like that, where it'd embarrass you guys if she, well, y'know…stormed out of the place."

"Which she's likely to do," Felix grimaced.

"And I guess I'd pick a place where the two of you can talk it out, not like a Street Fighter match, or anything. Kinda quiet."

"Right, right," Felix nodded. He thought he had a place in mind. "What should I tell her, though? I don't even know how to begin."

Ralph picked up a flat, smooth rock and flicked it into the river. It skipped once, twice, sunk. "Now that," he said, "I'm not sure if I can help you with."

Felix groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"I guess…" Ralph said. He thought. "I guess I would just come out and say it. She's smart, she'll know what you're up to, anyway."

"Just spit it out, you think?"

"I think I would," Ralph said. "Just get it over with—like ripping off a bandaid, y'know?"

Felix sighed deeply. For a second, he considered hopping into the river and sinking to the bottom, just like Ralph's rock had done. But he decided he'd better not.

"Why does this have to be so complicated?"

"That's love for ya," Ralph grinned.

"I think I've had just about enough of it," Felix said, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, but it'll all be worth it in the end," Ralph reassured him, giving his shoulder a gentle shove with his forefinger.

Felix smiled up at him. "I hope you're right."

{*}

The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she thought: still it had

VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with—

A key clinked and jostled in the door lock. Turbo slapped the paperback shut and stuffed it into his racing suit just as a very familiar figure shuffled in.

"Sour Bill?"

The green candy pushed the door open until the hinges caught, just before hitting the wall. Wynchel and Duncan could be seen hovering behind him, batons poised to strike, but they made no move to come into the cell.

Well, Turbo thought, restraints really weren't necessary in this situation. If he did take the notion to stomp Sour Bill to a powder, he'd just respawn. No real harm done. Everyone present was an ingame character, so their binary would realign itself lickety-split, if Turbo happened to be hankering for some murder.

Even Turbo himself was technically a Sugar Rush character. He'd woven his code good and tight into the motherboard of the game. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. They could kill him as many times as they felt like it.

"Delivery from President Vanellope," Sour Bill announced in his droning voice. He tugged on the leg of a simple straight-backed chair encrusted with—or perhaps made of—peppermints. Turbo looked out into the hallway. Bill was dragging one chair, but there was another waiting outside, as well.

Why would The Glitch be giving him two chairs?

As if reading Turbo's mind, Sour Bill began to explain. "President Vanellope has specific orders about these chairs, King Can—uh…Turbo."

Turbo, who had been lying on his back in his bunk, shifted himself into a sitting position. "Yeah, I bet. What's the deal with these, anyway?"

"She made it very clear that you're not allowed to sit in them," Sour Bill said. "She's noticed you've been getting quite a few visitors, here lately, and she doesn't want them to have to sit on the floor."

"No surprise there," Turbo shrugged. "But if ya don't want me sitting in them, why not just bring them in when somebody comes?"

"Cause that would be a pain in our asses," Duncan called into the cell.

"That," Bill said, fetching the other chair and scooting it into place, "and I think she's trying to tempt you, sir."

Turbo smiled a little at the "sir" Sour Bill had slipped him. "Whaddya mean, tempt me?"

"If Wynchel or Duncan catches you in one of these chairs," the green candy said, "or anyone, really, she says she'll put you in solitary confinement. Indefinitely."

"Fun," Turbo said.

Turbo had an idea of what "solitary confinement" was. The cell he'd had specially constructed for The Glitch was still very much vacant. He was surprised she hadn't put him in there to begin with. Maybe she felt the tiniest bit sorry for him.

But Turbo really doubted that.

"Now Fix-it Felix and the kids will have a place they can sit," Sour Bill monotoned, aligning the chairs in the corner.

Bill was always very meticulous about details, Turbo remembered. He had to have everything just so, no matter how menial it seemed. A wave of nostalgia hit Turbo as he watched Sour Bill's jellybean-shaped hands adjust the peppermint chairs.

"Say, how d'you know who comes to visit me?" Turbo said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Word travels fast to President Vanellope," Bill said. "And I hear most everything from her."

It was much the same situation when Turbo was King Candy. He and Sour Bill were always chit-chatting about this or that, the majority of the juicy stuff coming from Candlehead. Just thinking about The Glitch chewing the fat with Sour Bill, his Sour Bill, made him want to punch the wall. He settled on digging his nails into his palms, leaving little half-circle indentions in his skin.

"I got a question," Turbo said. He lowered his voice. "How is your new president? Y'know. An eight-year-old running an entire game full of people, I can't see any drawbacks to that at all." He rolled his eyes. "How's she workin out for ya?"

Sour Bill averted his eyes. "No comment."

Turbo scrambled off his bunk, crouching, as eye-level to Sour Bill as he could manage. "Yes comment!" he whispered, so that Wynchel and Duncan wouldn't overhear. His eyes were wide, almost childlike, with anticipation.

Bill took a step backward. "No."

"C'mon," Turbo said. "Ol buddy, ol pal." He curled his lips into what he hoped was a pleasant smile. "I gotta know these things. Stroke my ego a little, here. Tell me somethin good. Well, bad."

Sour Bill opened his mouth. Turbo nodded, trying to coax the information out of him.

"I…"

"Yeah, yeah?"

"…Can't."

Turbo's smile disappeared. His mouth fell open. "I bet I know what one of the things is," he said slyly. "There's no way that little ankle-biter can keep up with all the citizen complaints and all the paperwork that goes with it."

Again, Sour Bill looked away, shuffling his feet, looking very much like he wanted to run away from this scenario and never look back.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Turbo muttered. "Say it," he added in a singsong tone.

The green candy said a jumble of syllables under his breath, something Turbo couldn't make out.

"Whassat?" Turbo said, cupping a hand to his ear. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said…" Sour Bill swallowed. "Maybe."

Turbo laughed, but for once, his giggling wasn't out of nervousness or anger. He was genuinely pleased with himself. Pleased as punch.

"I knew it," he said, a bubbly and self-righteous feeling buzzing through him. "I knew you all would miss me. You need me."

"I don't think I said that," Sour Bill said.

Turbo threw his mouth open in mock surprise. "Cheeky!"

"Ay, Billy Boy, hurry it up, wouldjeh?" Wynchel called. "We ain't got all day."

Sour Bill sighed, shaking his head. "Don't forget what I said about the chairs," he said as he shuffled out of the cell. "No sitting, no touching, no…anything."

"Duly noted," Turbo replied, raising his body back into a standing position. The door slammed shut and the locks were promptly locked. Turbo cocked an ear to the window, hearing three pairs of feet walking away from the cell.

Grinning, he draped himself across both chairs, tucking his hands behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles.

Just out of spite.

Author's Note: Unfortunately no direct Felix/Turbo interaction in this chapter, but it was necessary to move things along a lil bit. But I did get to write Turbo's pal Sour Bill in this chapter! (Are they friends? I'd like to think he and King Candy were actually friends, as opposed to a villain/henchman type deal, but there's no telling. So he and Turbo would still be on civil terms, maybe? Maybe?) I dunno. Well, hope this chapter didn't read as a filler chapter, I tried hard to stay away from that.