I appreciate all the support for this fic; my personal life is wrecked...like, I'm attending a funeral tomorrow. You guys' support really keeps me going :)
Other series after this one? Um, I have ideas, but I'm not sure if I can execute them properly.
****8 DAYS LATER****
Mammatus clouds hung low across the Dimmsdale sky in thick, gray shrouds in the sky, a remanence of last night's thunderstorm. Sunday afternoon's sun filtered in a soft, otherworldly glow, overhead the suburban, yellow-bricked home.
Susie floated freely through the living room, viewing the plethora of family portraits mounted in perfectly straight lines along the yellow wall. Observing all the pearly whites widened solely for the purpose of the perfect family photo, fond of her godchild's adorable stages of development while simultaneously annoyed at the wife and mother's smile so sickeningly artificial.
Apart from observing the Thanksgiving holiday, both Carmichael's had been thrown themselves deeper into their separate careers. Diving headfirst into overtime shifts to negate the ever-rising marital hostility. Minor disagreements would escalate into massive arguments, spiraling their only child in a tug-of-war of self-blame for why her parents started spending most nights angry and apart.
"You sure you don't want to wish the dishes done, hun?" Susie turned away from the most recent portrait, facing the archway of the kitchen. "Chloe?" she called out again when her question received no answer, hovering over to the archway. Met with the back of platinum blonde hair, still as a statue in front of the sink.
Connie had been less forgiving in Chloe's rough start with Lexapro. Concluding in her own twisted mind that it made sense to pack on a laundry list of chores in response to Chloe's apathy. Was the girl physically disabled? No. Then why treat her as such?
Floating towards Chloe, Susie rested a hand on the unreactive shoulder. Noting the soaked sponge and lathered plate loose in pruning fingers submerged under soapy water, blue eyes distant as they were dazed. "…Chlo-bird?" she gave the shoulder a small shake, blue eyes startled out of their trance.
Seeing the concerned look on Susie's face caused Chloe's own features to fall remorsefully. "…did I do it again?"
Susie sighed; she had a feeling Chloe had zoned out. "It's why I asked if you just wanna wish the dishes clean…"
Shame lowered her chin, downcast eyes to the plate and sponge. To think she was useless before starting Lexapro…her mind felt like a computer without RAM at times, processing life at a snail's pace. Energy at a huge deficit no matter how long she slept. Side effects were expected, but what troubled Chloe above all was relying on man-made pills in the first place.
Susie kept her hand on Chloe's shoulder, now as motherly support. "How you feelin'?"
Chloe kept her eyes lowered. "Like a lazy sack of potatoes…"
"That's your mom talking. How do you feel?"
"…so tired…" Just croaking that clenched her gut in embarrassed knots.
"Howa 'bout you make a wish?" Susie gave a friendly suggestion. "Then you can lay down afterwards."
It was Chloe's turn to sigh; no use arguing with that logic. The dishes will never be clean enough for her mother anyway "…I wish the dishes were clean..."
Indigo sparkles glimmered from the wand, swirls of indigo and white whirling around the dirtied dishes that remained. Crusted food and stains vanished, plates and cups magically placed to dry along the dry and the sink drained as if never filled.
"Thank you…" Chloe scuffed in her sandals past her godmother.
"Always." Susie hovered behind her, traveling up the flight of stairs.
Chloe could consciously feel the amount of exerted energy from her arm just to twist the knob and push the bedroom door open. Dragging herself into the room as Susie closed the door with her sparkling wand. Bad posture was the last thing on Chloe's mind as slouched shoulders made their way to slump down atop her rose duvet, kicking off her sandals.
Brooding blue stared to the floor as Chloe folded arms across her lap. Even if hardly happy with her, her parents were always happy with each other. They were so in sync, so in love. Now they couldn't last two minutes in the same room without barking at each other's throats, and the main point of contention? This God forsaken anxiety disorder.
Anxiety disorder…an abnormality to short-term stress. A disease. Her brain was diseased, spreading this bitter, hostile infection into her parents. Prescription medication was the strongest antidote, yet just the notion of requiring medication has infected her parents' patience with a steadily growing intolerance towards one another.
Her entire existence, everything about her…was fundamentally flawed. Perfection seems impossible to strive for when flawed beyond imperfection.
"…Chloe?"
Blue eyes blinked, not realizing they'd zoned out again until the fairy godmother had called her name. Meeting indigo orbs before falling in a deprecated frown "…I'm sorry…"
"You have nothing to apologize for." Susie reminded with a grin, using magic to draw back the covers. "Just lay down, okay?"
Doing as told, Chloe crawled to her pillow, rolling over onto her back. Allowing the blankets to magically tuck her in before Susie poofed into an indigo booby bird, planting feet onto Chloe's torso as she perched. She smiled as her godchild welcomed her with soft strokes along her feathers, scratching beneath her beak with a gentle finger. All worries outside pink walls fading into nonexistence.
Chloe tilted her head towards the hanging clouds out her window, continuing to brush Susie's feathers. Moments passed before the booby bird looked on fondly as eyelids droop heavier and fingers brushed lighter, fighting slumber's pull. Losing the battle when lids wilted with no resistance and the tiniest snort disrupted the plunge into peaceful sleep.
Within the white marble mansion of the Fancy Schmancy Country Club, Dimmsdale's upper-class mingled amongst each other. Gathered simply to socialize and fully enjoy the club's many amenities. Isolated in a lone corner of the dining hall was the young billionaire and his purple ferret in his arms. Invisible among the adults and boasting about their riches and fortunes.
The Buxaplentys joined their small circle in joyous laughter from another asinine money pun. Laughter that only exacerbated Remy's resentful snarl. Those mongrels…how dare they shove their undeserved felicity in his face…
"¿…Estas bien, Remy?"
Remy turned his grimace away, reluctant to answer.
"Háblame…" Juandissimo kept his tone soft, and it didn't take long for Remy to admit his sullen truth.
"…I don't want to be here."
"Where would you like to go?"
"Tsk…away from this pathetic place" Remy groaned, carrying Juandissimo towards the exit. A reputational appearance was his sole purpose of being present, but everyone had since long forgotten the fifth Buxaplenty heir was there.
"…do you want to poof back to your room?" Juandissimo asked as Remy began his stroll across trimmed, green pastures.
"No." Remy sighed in his brief glance up to the mammatus clouds. "Walking clears my head…"
Muffled chatter and cheer could be heard in the distance, club members partaking in outdoor festivities. Close enough to be acknowledged, far enough for the boy and his magical ferret to remain unnoticed.
"You know, I started to feel better a while ago." Juandissimo commented politely. "You do not have to keep carrying me."
It was true that Juandissimo's migraines subsided, and his tiny scar was nearly invisible…yet Remy cradled him tighter, somewhat saddened "…I know…"
To this, Juandissimo lowered his chin back to Remy's arm. Who was he to deny a child's excuse for affection? "…I see..."
Two security personnel guarded the French doors of the Buxaplenty mansion, stationed on either side. Catching the glimpse of the young billionaire in his unhurried approach before one guard held the door open for Remy and his ferret to enter. Remy gave little acknowledgement to the guards' welcoming nods, in no mood for formalities. He walked through the foyer to the steps, reaching the landing before his feet stalled.
Mint-green laid eyes on the door three doors from his own bedroom, the door of the now abandoned bedroom that Mr. Nicholas once occupied. Those same mint eyes shot a spiteful glare to the door, refusing to relive those disgraceful memories. He could save himself the mental torture by wishing those memories from his mind…
But Mr. Nicholas will never deserve that form of exoneration.
Willing himself out of a vengeful rabbit hole, Remy redirected himself to his bedroom. Holding his godfather with one arm as the other turned the knob to let them inside. He made his way to the bed where he set the purple ferret onto the duvet. "I wish I was dressed down for the day…" his voice hinted at fatigue "…I've no intensions on leaving again."
Juandissimo's wand dressed Remy out of his tux into a plain white tee and pajama pants, leading Remy to then crawl onto his bed to the headboard where he set his head against one of his plush pillows, solemn gaze facing the window.
As expected, Remy's spirits were still wounded. Probably will be for a while. So long as Remy wasn't crying in fits of resenting rage or bouts of debilitating depression, Juandissimo took emotional exhaustion as a win in his book.
"…Juan?"
"Hmm?"
Remy held hands to his chest, curling into himself "…will…you lay next to me?" coy eyes glanced to the apprehensive ferret "…please?"
The more hardened layers peeled back, the less comfortable Juandissimo felt at times. Not that he rejected connection; from the exploitative way Fenwick screwed with Remy's perspective on adult-child relationships in general, Juandissimo worried of giving Remy's fragility the wrong impression. Then again, Remy was intelligent, and educating what affection was appropriate and what wasn't had not been as difficult as Juandissimo assumed.
Accepting the request, Juandissimo walked on his paws to Remy. Perching next to Remy who extended his arms to bring the purple ferret close to his chest.
Silence befell the two, before Remy spoke in a quiet voice "…may I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"…is…there a word for 'godchild?'"
"…in Spanish? Hmm…" the ferret contemplated "…the closest in context is 'ahijado.'" he looked up as diffident eyes looked away "…did…you want that as a nickname?"
Remy curled further "…o-only if it's okay with you."
Endeared, Juandissimo couldn't help but smile.
Another moment of silence came, surrounded in the calm of quiet. Juandissimo settled in Remy's arms linked around him; this once foreign concept slowly became a frequent occurrence over Thanksgiving Break. Whenever they were often alone in Remy's room, he'd be content for hours just holding Juandissimo close to him. Unfortunate that such endearment was brought about from painful circumstances…
"…remind me…" a soft, tired voice caused Juandissimo to look up "…what your homeland is called?"
"…Fairy World."
"…what is it like?"
"A magical realm above the clouds." Juandissimo described, taking on a storybook tone. "A world similar to Earth aside from how bright and colorful it is."
"Hmm…" Remy stifled a yawn "…are there…like…enchanted forests?"
"Plenty." Juandissimo recalled. "There is also a large, mystical waterfall called Fairy Falls. A place I once frequented often."
"…Fairy Falls…" Remy repeated in a soft murmur, his eyes gently closing "…I'd like to go…"
"We shall certainly go one day..." Juandissimo smirked faintly. Feeling the grip around him loosen as Remy went quiet.
The fairy godfather retrieved his wand to poof covers over him and his sleeping godchild. Welp…might as well get comfy.
The teal tabby kept observant eyes on her godchild, cuddled in the loose arms. Raven ponytails rested tranquilly on the pillow, both child and cat covered in a cozy cotton blanket salvaged from the storage closet.
Vicky had tucked Tootie in with the cotton blanket maybe an hour ago before stepping out for some air while their Uncle Vic slept in the back bedroom. Right after being disfellowshipped, Tootie suffered from disrupted sleep over Thanksgiving break. Most nights fighting sleep until eventually passing out from exhaustion. At just nine years old, Tootie was the youngest reported to ever be excommunicated from Jehovah's Witnesses. Any person baptized into the religion can be excommunicated, even if said child was far too young to be given luxury of choice in becoming a member.
For the abuse she'd endured, Rose almost thought Tootie would be glad to be freed from such an imprisoning religion. That maybe, just maybe…she'd see the light amid the darkness in escaping a life far worse than death.
…that seemed far from the case.
Rose turned to click of the door as the redhead teenager climbed the steps upon her entry. She pretended to be asleep next to Tootie as to avoid any suspicion, listening to silent footsteps make their way to the table booth. She peaked through one eye as the teen slumped into the booth, releasing a somber sigh into shielding palms.
A muted whimper escaped…and teal eyes frowned.
Even when Vicky desperately tried with all her might to hide it, it was evident that her own demons viciously battled within her. On top of aiding her younger sister through her many demons and assisting in keeping the household afloat. Rose had noticed ever since the first full day Tootie lived with Vicky and Uncle Vic. Sometimes, Rose would hear Vicky's ever so silent sobs when her guard was at its lowest. Mostly when Vicky assumed no one was around to refute her reputation of a rough exterior.
As sorry as she felt for her own godchild, Rose's compassion extended to the troubled teen. It was easy to forget that Vicky had gone through the same abuse, suffered similar psychological wounds. She was always there to tell her sister it'd be okay. With their uncle caught in his own stress webs and her friend circle severely lacking…who was there to tell her the same thing?
The ring of the Nokia 3310 across the table booth led the teen to immediately wipe her eyes with vexed palms. Snatching the phone and pressing the green button to accept the call before another ring may disturb her uncle and little sister. Based on Vicky's tone of voice, Rose figured Mrs. Turner was on the other line.
As much as Rose would rather let Tootie sleep, she rubbed a furry cheek to Tootie's nose. Stirring her godchild from slumber's reprieve as Vicky assured that she and Tootie would be over shortly before pressing a button to end the short call. Tootie rubbed her eyes, and Vicky released a sigh. Looking over her shoulder to her sister's drowsy stretch. "…gotta go, Toots…"
Nodding in her yawn, Tootie's felt with a hand for the glass that must've been removed when Tootie had fallen asleep. Patting blindly along the cushion before Rose found the purple specs near the pillow and grabbed them with her paw.
. . . . . .
Vicky used her key to lock Vic safely inside the camper as Tootie's feet planted on the gravel below. Carrying her precious notebook to her chest while trailing behind her older sister on their journey. Since most of Vicky's babysitting requests came during the day when Vic slept, Tootie was still too young and vulnerable to leave unattended. Therefore, whenever a call came for Vicky's services, Tootie was sure to follow.
Hands stuffed in her pockets, Vicky's glum gaze tracked the marbles of rocks along the gravel that her boots kicked. Silent in her stroll through the sectioned trails. Tootie happened to notice this, sensing the cloud of spellbinding darkness over her sister's head. A darkness that'd become more apparent as days past.
Wanting to help somehow, Tootie opened her notebook to a blank page. Continuing to walk as her unsteady pen scribbled wiggly words. Her teal bracelet could still make out the sentence I want to cheer Vicky up. "How would you like to cheer her up?" Rose inquired, making Tootie write down her wish.
Too distracted to notice her sister lag behind and bend down to pick something from the gravel, Vicky kept walking until a tug at her jeans interrupted her train of dark thoughts. Turning to face the raven-haired girl holding a gem in her palm, shining in the shape of a ruby heart.
A gust of late autumn's wind swayed through their ponytails as the teen stared. Studying the hope in bashful eyes that she would accept this ruby heart as a token of appreciation. Nice gestures were a rarity for Vicky, and though she questioned where Tootie even found a rare gem in a run-down trailer park, she didn't bother to stop the weak smirk that curled her lips.
Tootie in herself was a rare gem. A gem Vicky would cherish for as long as she lived.
The teal bracelet watched Vicky reach for the ruby gem in Tootie's hand to stuff into her pocket, smiling when Vicky showed her gratitude with a playful ruffle in Tootie's hair. Perhaps…Tootie had not sunk too deep into darkness after all.
Timmy blinked, realizing he'd returned to the void of blank space. Floating as a small blurb within the vast of the purest white. He recalled being in his room in the downtime before Vicky and Tootie were to arrive, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Wanda had gone back into the fishbowl to rest after complaining of nauseating cramps and a terrible headache, and Cosmo went with her to care for her however he could. Timmy closed his eyes for what he thought was just a second, and when he blinked, he found himself back in the void.
Girly giggles echoed behind him, turning to blue eyes and a bucktoothed grin. Brunette hair identical to his tied into a low pony with light-pink ribbon.
"…why'd you bring me back here?" Timmy asked his sister, aware that this was her doing. He wasn't tired enough to fall asleep so suddenly.
Innocence curved in her smile as Sophia inched forward, taking him by both hands. "I wanted to see my Bubba!"
Sophia giggled playfully as she swung their arms side to side, and Timmy gave a disheartened grin. Happy to see her yet sad that her physical form was only visible in his dreams.
"…I wish Cosmo and Wanda could've met you." he solemnly expressed a wish that could never be granted. "They'd love you as much as I do."
Sophia widened her radiant smile. "They'll meet me soon enough."
Confused, Timmy raised a brow "…what does that mean?"
Her crafty giggle proved she knew something her brother didn't. "You'll see!"
"TIMMY!" his mother's yell from downstairs jolted him upright. "GET DOWN HERE!"
Alright, alright! Geez…Timmy grumbled out of bed. Noticing one of his magical goldfish swimming out of the castle. "Stay with Wanda, okay?" he instructed. "I'll be back."
Cosmo watched Timmy make his way to the bedroom door. "You sure you don't need me to come with?"
"Wanda needs you more right now." Timmy looked over his shoulder to his godfather, admittedly worried for his godmother's ailment that had persisted through Thanksgiving break. Besides, Vicky seemed to cool off around Tootie. Still mean and nasty, but less sadistic. "I can handle it."
"Okay…" Cosmo sighed, watching Timmy's exit. He couldn't rid his wife of her pain, and now he was useless to his own godchild…
Approaching the stair's rails, Timmy saw the Byrne sisters standing in the living room next to his mother, his father already with one foot out the front door.
"Don't cause any trouble for Vicky if you want to be ungrounded."
"Sure…" Timmy groaned under his breath. That's what his mother said last night…and the night before. And yet, here he was still freakin' grounded despite doing everything that witch yelled at him to do.
"We should be back from the nursing home later tonight." Daran advised the girls, waiting on Susanne to leave together. A year away from eighty, Pappy Turner's health had taken a nosedive. His parents had been back and forth between home and Dimmsdale Senior Center, and as far as Timmy was concerned, the old geezer's days were numbered.
Once the Turners shut the door on their way out, Tootie carried her notebook in her silent walk towards the couch, while Vicky's assertive stance faced the pink-hatted boy standing by the landing. "Go do the dishes, twerp!" she barked, Timmy sneering in his trudge down the steps. "And I better be able to see my face when you're done!"
"Yeah, yeah..." Timmy grouched.
"And loose the attitude while you're at it!" Vicky's warning made Timmy half-roll his eyes. Already off to such a pleasant start.
Before he stepped inside the kitchen, Timmy felt inclined to glance over his shoulder at the raven-haired girl seated on the couch. Holding a black pen in the hand cuffed with a teal bracelet on her wrist, starting a new drawing on a blank notebook page. Downcast eyes so dejected…so lost.
"Stop looking at her and go wash those dishes like I told you!"
Timmy snapped to Vicky's condescending snarl, responding with his own before he chose to simply stomp away. Talking back hardly did him any favors, and he wasn't in the mood for things to needlessly escalate.
Vicky turned away to join her sister on the couch as Timmy dragged the step stool from beside the kitchen counter. Reaching for the faucet to fill the sink, splashing water onto dishes caked in grime and grease.
[…can I offer some advice?]
Timmy exhaled grumpily, observing the cloudy sky through the kitchen window before squirting dish detergent in random swirls over plates and used cups. "…what."
[I think you should talk to Tootie.]
…the heck?! She had to be joking. "How's that supposed to help me?"
[She could really use a friend right now…]
After a dramatic pause, Timmy shut off the water. "And that's my problem, how?"
Grabbing the nearby sponge, Timmy could hear Sophia's sigh in his mind. [Are you still mad at her?]
He snatched a plate, scrubbing aggressively. "Why would I not be?!"
[She didn't know I was gonna die, Timmy…]
Timmy sneered, fighting a stubborn stain. "Doesn't mean she wasn't wrong about her stupid god…"
Sophia was not one to give up easily. [Timmy c'mon; Tootie has been over how many times? She hasn't mentioned Jehovah once!]
"Duh! She doesn't even talk!"
[Why do you think that is?]
"The heck if I know?"
[Why not talk to her and find out?]
"What for?" he retwisted the faucet to rinse. "Vicky's just gonna give me crap…"
[Yeah, if you're mean.]
"Which is exactly why I don't speak to her now!" Timmy pointed out. "I literally have nothing nice to say!"
When Sophia went quiet, Timmy assumed she'd finally come to her senses. Until the saddest, sweetest voice he'd ever heard squeaked…
[…would you still say no…if I asked you to do it for me?]
Squeezing the sponge in his fist, Timmy gritted his teeth. Morally backed into a corner with no chance of escape.
AN: Some wholesomeness before the last chapter because I think we deserve it at this point lol.