Oh me, oh my...I am SO sorry everybody! I know, I know, this update is WAY overdue...This year has just been nuts. But I still plan to finish this story, even if that means taking another year to get to the next chapter, lol.

I want everybody to know that I am so thankful for everyone who has supported this story. Every favorite, every review, every follow. It's so humbling to see my words get such a response. I know that there are some who don't like the direction the sequel went from the first, and I absolutely understand. I am writing about some serious topics that can make people uncomfortable. But I want you all to know I take them very seriously.

I hope you enjoy this seventeenth chapter of This Shouldn't Be Happening. I do not own Wreck It Ralph, or the characters, but Lemona and Angelina are my OCs. I appreciate reviews and input/critic for my work. Have a wonderful day.

Chapter 17

It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for a clouded head.

As she strolled down the rainbow bridge, bouncing Angelina in her arms, Lemona heard the rumble and roar of kart engines. The arcade must have opened up while she'd been sleeping. It had been so long since the last time she'd heard the sound, under entirely different circumstances. Then, she had been hiding from them. Now, she felt them pulling her, insistently tugging with invisible little fingers at the edges of her clothes. They charged her like a battery. She felt more awake then she had in weeks.

"I've never told you about when I used to race, have I sweetie?" Glancing down at Angelina, who lifted her head and smiled when spoken to, Lemona thought back. A chill ran down her neck when it came to her that more than nine months had gone by since she'd been racing. Would she even fit in her kart if she tried to start again?

She forced herself to calm down and suddenly, a memory popped into her mind. One of her races, not a momentous occasion, but a simple, light, happy bubble of a memory that would be easy to talk about.

"Well, there was this one time, when I…"

As she talked, with only Angelina and the earth to hear, Lemona felt herself get carried away. Her words formed to visions in her mind that lifted her up and carried her so that she was flying over them, watching them play out as she told them. New ones kept budding up in her brain where the others had been, eager to be told as well. Memories of victories, near victories, crashes and collisions. At one point she watched herself land in a pile of whipped cream after not making a jump. When the kart hit the ground, she felt the sudden stimulus of pain in her left shoulder as she had on that day, and rubbed the spot in an attempt to heal, even though the bruise had long since faded away.

Talk of racing merged to talk of the many repairs she'd made in her days. Little by little, she was able to talk about the life she'd had before Turbo without feeling sick. She even caught herself laughing a couple of times.

"I was happy," Lemona realized, when she'd found a moment to pause and catch her breath. Time had managed to escape her, and with the game's sun stuck in one position during the daylight hours, it was impossible to determine how long they'd been walking without a time-telling device. "My life was…good. Why did I ever think that it wasn't?"

Before she could try to figure it out, Angelina started fussing, hungry and tired after all the walking and excitement. Lemona's head darted around, searching for a place to sit. Her eyes finally landed on a patch of trees.

They were peach trees. HER peach trees. Standing tall and strong, with an abundance of sweet fruit weighing the branches down just enough for her to reach up and pick them if she desired. As if the sight wasn't tempting enough, the fresh smell of the food permeated the air, beckoning her.

She walked forward, stopping right before where the invisible wall was built. Energy poured off the structure, generating a blast of heat that blew towards her. It seemed to be asking her, "What took you so long?"

Her breath hitched. Could she bring herself to pass through, to see what was on the other side? What if it wasn't what she wanted to see? What if the outside had painted a picture of hope that would be destroyed by the reality of what lay beyond the wall? What if everything had changed, so that it looked nothing like the home she had seen in her memories?

Angelina reached out a chubby baby hand and squealed when it disappeared, making it appear as though her arm had been dismembered. When no tears sprung to her eyes, Lemona made her decision. With a deep breath, she clung to Angelina tightly, closed her own eyes, and stepped forward.

The transition through the wall made her whole body tingle, and left her stomach unsettled. The whole atmosphere around her shifted and transformed. The sick feeling inside was enough motivation for her to keep her eyes shut.

"But if this is horrible, it's just two steps backward," she reminded herself. "Two steps backward, and I never have to come here again."

So, before her mind could try another trick to keep her from doing it, she opened up.

There was no moss or molds growing on the walls. Her mattress was still shoved up against the wall by the door, sheets rumpled and shoved carelessly to the end. When she turned to see the small kitchen area, her nose was not greeted with the stench of rotting food and water residue. In fact, it looked cleaner than it had when she had lived here.

The whole cabin appeared to be this way. Her hand brushed against a side table and came up dust-free. Had Vanellope ordered the place cleaned after her disappearance?

There was only one other section of space she cared enough about to look for. Ever so slowly, she pivoted her head, allowing her gaze to fall on her workbench. There, the first signs of mess were seen, with a few spare pieces of candy lying discarded atop the bench. Empty spaces on the wall behind, where she had hung her tools in an organized manner awaited the safe return of a few that also lay on the bench, as though they had just been used. Lemona caught a whiff of sawdust that immediately reminded her of all the times she'd stood with one of her many saws in her hand, cutting candy cane trunk into various shapes and sizes for different parts. She'd treated each tool as though it were a part of her body to be handled with the same amount of care and love.

"Would I even remember how to use them now?" she mused, staring at the wide variety she'd acquired during her practice. "Would I recall what was needed to make wheels, or gears, or brake lines? Could I put a kart back together again, make the appropriate repairs?"

"I'm sorry, can I help you?"

Gasping, Lemona whipped around, to find herself staring at….herself. But not her adult form: her original kid design. She shook her head and blinked her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried to clear her head, the sight in front of her remained the same.

The clone blinked as well. "Oh…wow…" she murmured, eying Lemona up. Confusion flickered in her sweet lime irises, but was quickly replaced with mild curiousity. "You're…you're me."

"Um…yeah….hi." Lemona felt her cheeks flushing, wishing she could've thought of something more intelligible to say. "I just…wanted to see the place. I'm sorry for intruding." Cheeks burning, she turned to leave.

"Hey, wait!" The clone dashed in front of her, and offered a nervous smile. "If we're the same person, then…technically this is your home too. You don't have to leave. D…do you want to sit down? I can get you a drink."

Lemona stared at the copy of herself, unsure what to think. "Uh…yeah, sure. That…that would be nice."

A grin split across the second girl's face, and she immediately set to work, flitting around the cabin, opening cupboards and pulling out what she needed. "Oh, sweet lemon meringue pie, this is so exciting! I get so few visitors. What do you like, sweet tea, or lemonade? Oh, wait, you're me! You must like what I like!"

Her question quickly dissolved into rambling sentences that had nothing to do with drinks, and though Lemona tried to listen, she found herself just staring at the person she had used to be.

Just as she was being handed a mug of warm lemon tea, the clone's body suddenly stiffened. The blue pixels that made up her coding flashed into sight, and the clone's hand muscles went limp. The cup crashed into sharp pieces, and hot liquid seeped into the wooden floors, the steam rising up around Lemona and the clone's feet. Then, just as quickly as the glitch had started, it was over.

The clone placed a hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Her pained expression fell to the ground and was replaced with one of irritation. "Oh…sour lemonade…That was my favorite mug." Tsking softly, she turned towards her work area to search for a small dust pan and brush.

"Are…are you alright? I'm…I'm so sorry…" Without even realizing it, Lemona had moved herself so that she and Angelina were behind the chair she'd been seated in. Her feet were ready to move, their final destination dependant on what her copy did. One hand was ready to grab whatever it could find first, in case she needed defense. The second was gripping Angelina tightly, trying to shield her. At such a young age, her sensitive skin had not yet faced the damages that could be brought by the world. She had never been harmed by another's hands the way Lemona had. The person in front of them was made of identical strands of code as her, and she knew all too well how easily little things could cause her, or any other sour person, to fly into a rage. It could happen at any moment. She remembered that from Turbo, and she refused to let that rage result in harm to her child.

The clone had not yet turned around. "Oh no, don't apologize! It wasn't your fault! Please, don't worry. I'm used to it! Happens ALL the time. It's annoying, but hey, at least I never run out of new things to make! I'm sure you know what it's like, right?"

When Lemona gave her no response, she paused and turned around. Concern flooded her face when she found her guests crouched on the floor. "What's wrong? Why are you hiding?"

This wasn't right. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. There should have been screaming and yelling. Objects should have been flying. The only things she should have been feeling were terror and pain.

"Do you…don't you ever get angry?"

Thought pinched the clone's eyebrows as concern melted into confusion. "Of course I do! Everybody gets angry sometimes. Why, there was one time when I…"

"That…that's not quite what I meant…" Lemona paused and slowly stood, taking her time so she could try to find the perfect way to word her inquiry. "You and I…we both have weaker coding than the rest of the racers. Do you ever get so angry that…that your sour side manages to overtake your coding and break free? Even if it's just for a little bit?"

The clone's face scrunched up as though trying to remember as she strolled around the work bench, only stopping once to pick up an old bucket. "Well…I…I don't think so."

"But what about when you're frustrated? Glitching hurts a lot. And it makes it hard to race. Don't you ever wish that you were like everybody else so you didn't have to deal with it? Don't you ever just want to break things?"

The clone looked up at her as she returned to the scene, a baffled expression on her face. "What good would that do?"

"Well it…it…" Lemona tried to come up with an explanation, but came up empty. The clone was right. What good DID it do?

The younger version of her smiled softly as she bent and started sweeping up the shards of ceramic and dumping them into the bucket. "When I get angry, or frustrated, I try to remember that I'm lucky to be alive. The game developers didn't want me here. But even though my code is weak, it was strong enough to keep me alive. I have a job that I love. A roof over my head. Friends that I can consider family. So anything I get angry over isn't worth STAYING angry over…." She paused. "Does…does that make any sense?"

Lemona wasn't sure. She stared down at Angelina, who was falling asleep in her arms, totally oblivious to what had happened. She looked over at her clone, the more innocent version of herself.

There was just one more question. "What…what if somebody said they cared about you, and wanted you to feel your sour side?"

The clone paused to consider. Finally, she looked at Lemona, identical green eyes boring into green eyes, and answered. "I don't think ANYONE should ever want another person to be hurt, and anger is a type of emotional hurt. So…well…I guess if they wanted me to be angry all of the time instead of being happy and only angry sometimes…maybe they wouldn't really care about me at all."

An uncomfortable silence spread into the room like a toxic mist. As the Lemona copy finished her cleaning job, Lemona stood up again. "Well…I guess….we should probably go."

The clone nodded once. "Okay." She smiled at Lemona, but didn't say anything else, making her even more uncomfortable.

"Okay, well…bye, I guess…"

Lemona turned to leave, but just as she was reaching the door, the clone called out, "Wait!"

There was no desire to, but the young girl had been a good host, and technically, this was her house right now, so Lemona didn't really feel she had the right to disobey. So she turned back around.

The clone shuffled her feet and stared at the floor. "Um…I just want you to know…it's going to be okay. Whatever you're going through or trying to figure out…it'll all work out in the end."

Staring, Lemona felt a burn in her cheeks, and she avoided looking at the girl. She could barely mumble out a thank you as she spun and darted out of the house.

Mind whirling, she pushed forward and quickly made it to the palace, where she planned to lock herself in her bedroom. She knew that people were probably worried about her, but she needed more time alone with her thoughts. There was so much information and advice being thrown at her, and she needed time to sort through it, to find out what she would be willing to hold on to, and what could be thrown away.

"Lemona!"

Vanellope's cry hit her ears, but she mentally shoved it away. "Not now Vanellope."

"But Lemona, it's REALLY important!"

"I said not now!" As she tried to grab a door handle, Vanellope suddenly glitched in front of it, blocking her path.

Lemona felt her entire body beginning to burn. She opened her mouth to shout, but Angelina shifted in her arms, reminding her that she was still sleeping. Bending her head so that it was touching her child's, Lemona took a deep breath to calm herself. Getting a strong whiff of the clean, down-feather soft hair under her nose forced her own hairs on the back of her neck to lie flat again.

"I'm sorry Vanellope…" she started, avoiding eye contact. "But right now is NOT…a good time…"

Vanellope took a step closer. "Lemona, what's wrong?"

"I just…" How could she even begin to describe everything she was feeling right now?

Footsteps from behind her made her body tense in preparation. Though no one was stomping, the floor still quivered slightly. "Hey kid."

"Ralph." Lemona was reminded of the warm cotton shirt he had lent her, tied around her waist by the arms, but so large that the rest of it fell to the ground and had been dragged through the dirt and dust. She quickly passed Angelina to Vanellope so she could set to work untying the knot of cloth that had managed to hold so well. "You'll…you'll probably have to wash it…Sorry…"

Ralph chuckled, and his small smile managed to banish a little more of her anxiety. "It's fine Lemona. I just hope it kept you warm last night."

Vanellope snorted and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Besides, we all know Stinkbrain. He doesn't wash ANYTHING. I bet he doesn't even wash his underwear!"

Ralph opened his mouth to retort, but Vanellope cut him off before he could get even a syllable out. "But that's not important right now! What's important is that we think we have something to help you, Lemona!"

Calhoun appeared then, standing beside Ralph with her arms folded across her chest and a disapproving glare. "Vanellope…"

Her warning tone made Vanellope blush. "Oops…um…here, how about I go put Angelina into her crib, and you guys go sit down and start talking about it!" Then, before anybody could protest, she threw open the door she'd been blocking and dashed away.

Calhoun sighed, and without another word, she and Ralph lead Lemona into the kitchen, where they sat around the rectangular table. The soldier did most of the talking, explaining their theory that her code had been weakened, and if it could be strengthened, Lemona would be healthier and, as a result, happier. She explained that they believed they had something that could do the trick. Vitamin V.

Calhoun explained in a calm, cool voice that Vitamin V was not a medicine. It was a supplement: Something that would provide her with nutrients that perhaps she wasn't getting enough of. She was not required to take it, and if she did choose to, there was no schedule surrounding it. The only real rule seemed to be only take one each day. There would be side effects, but the tablets had been tested, and it seemed like the worst of it would be a slight increase in hair growth as long as she obeyed the instruction of taking only one a day. Eventually Vanellope joined the table as well, and by the time Calhoun was finished speaking, everyone's eyes were on Lemona, who was trying to figure out what to say.

It sounded harmless enough. And from the looks on everyone's faces, it was something they all thought she should do. But it wouldn't help Lemona's confusion. While trying to listen to Calhoun, all of her questions and doubts from earlier that day had interrupted her focus. It was now clear in her mind that these three would not be able to help her solve them. There was only one person who could give her the answers she needed.

She knew she would be given hell for what she was about to request. But perhaps they could reach…a compromise.

"I'll…I'll take the Vitamin V. If…"

Everybody waited. Lemona drew in a breath. And then she spoke.

"You take me to see Turbo."