A handful of easter eggs from my older fics pop up in this chap just cuz they happen to fit so...just an FYI.

McSgwizzle: Literally died inside writing the beginning of the last chapter, like literally contemplating the meaning of life. The correlation between Timmy and Cosmo, low key, did not think about that. Crazy how storytelling plays out, eh?

"No…it can't be." her ear-length bob shook in her denial, distress laced in pink eyes. "…not our Dorothy."

Agitation in his fingers combed through fiery-red hair, that same agitation bouncing in his knee. "…she shall feel the rod of Jehovah's wrath."

Husband and wife glanced towards the front door upon the sound of a house key unlocking the bolt lock, observant as their only daughter entered inside the home. Searching for signs of disloyalty when her purple eyes widened upon spotting their ominous brows.

Small knuckles whitened in their tightened grip around her backpack straps when he shot from the couch, cringing under father's glare and heavy footsteps stormed towards her. "…w-what's wrong?" Tootie's question trembled.

"You associating with an apostate!" Jim pointed a finger of blame mere inches from her glasses, causing Tootie to cower further.

"…w-what do you mean-" A clap cracked her cheek, tingling a burn.

"You know exactly what I mean, Dorothy!" his scowl alleged. "Brother Dinkleburg was passing the school on his way to work this morning, and he saw you talking to that apostate!"

Watering eyes bulged at the false accusation. "N-No! T-That's not true!" Tootie attempted to defend herself, well aware of the consequences. "I-I didn't say anything to-"

She was silenced once again by another sturdy backhand. "Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not ly-"

SMACK!

"Speak with false tongue again and see what happens!"

"I'm NOT!"

A shrill cry let out when his firm claw snatched her by her ponytails, hoisting her off the ground. "Satan must have corrupted your mind for you to raise your voice at me like that!" he spat in her face, rage burning in his turquoise orbs. Her punishment was a hard toss to the wooden floor where only her arms could catch her fall.

Tootie cried out when she felt a loud 'snap' in her forearm, curling as shooting pain flashed. Her daughter's agonized wails pierced in her heart, yet Nicky remained seated on the couch, hesitant to intervene. 1st Corinthians 11:3 states a woman's head is a man, and as a wife, she must be in subjection to her husband. Nicky began to doubt if this form of discipline was not a bit extreme, but she'd be remiss to question Jim's authority.

"Jehovah is not pleased!" he shouted fire down at her, cold to her skreiching cries. He reached for his pants, loosening his buckle before he ripped his leather belt from their loops. There was no time for a switch; her crime must be corrected at once! "That cannot go unpunished!"

Raising a reprimanding arm, the leather belt struck down with furious force. Piercing cries amplified from the slash behind her back thighs, leaving red burns in her skin. The belt whipped down again and again, each strike resonating in a biting slap. Her tiny body writhed and wiggled with each strike as if a worm impaled by a fishing hook. Shrieks scratched in her throat, cohesive thought drowned in insufferable pain. Jim was not fazed by her suffering, justifying his actions with one scripture in mind.

Jehovah disciplines the ones He loves.

Timmy sat at the base of the steps, grim blue eyes staring at the ground where his sister took her last breath. Visualizing the blood that was no longer there as his mother checked her purse to make sure she had her wallet.

"Vicky's coming to watch you while we're out on our date, so don't give her a hard time." Susanne informed, acknowledged with the boy's silence.

"Are you listening, boy?!" Daran asked impatiently, acknowledged by the boy's dark eyes lifted to them standing over him.

"I heard you…" Timmy murmured, Susanne rolling her eyes.

The chime of the doorbell prompted Daran to answer, meeting the weak smile of the teenage babysitter. "Thanks for coming, Vicky."

"No problem." Actually, it was, but Vicky wasn't about to pass up easy money.

"We'll be back late." Susanne advised for both the kid and the babysitter.

Timmy propped his chin on dull hands. "What else is new…"

"You watch how you speak to us." Daran didn't appreciate the boy's tone. Timmy lowered his eyes, no fight in him left.

"Never mind him." Susanne told her husband, walking towards the front door after adjusting her purse on her shoulder. "We shouldn't be late for our reservation."

Daran handed Vicky her money on his way out, $80 for the five hours of taking the kid off their hands. Accepting the money, Vicky gave the Turners a wave as they exited the house, shutting the door as her fake smile withered. "Go do your homework or something…" she didn't look at him, shoulders slouched in her stride. Her sister heavy on her mind, replaying little Tootie running away from her at school that morning.

Watching her kick her feet up on the coffee table as she slumped into the couch, Timmy noted the lack of fire in her tone, like someone unlit her spark with a bucket of water. He kept his eyes on her as she used the remote to turn on the tv, grabbing the phone off the receiver presumably to order more delivery. "…that's it?"

Vicky shot him a glare. "Look, twerp…" she grumbled "…I feel really shitty, and the only reason I'm even here is cuz my unc and I need the extra money. So unless you wanna get a beating, I suggest you leave me the fuck alone."

"Fine with me…" Timmy stood to his feet. He'd had enough of a beating that day. Physically and mentally.

He proceeded up the steps to his bedroom where the green husband watched his pink wife with worried eyes, floating near their godchild's bed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Cosmo asked as Wanda tugged at the rubber band around her wrist before it retracted back against her skin. Reddening upon the impact of the cutting pop.

"I'm sure…" Wanda didn't meet her husband's gaze, giving her wrist another snap. Thinking of the many scars that were masked with her magic. "Haven't relapsed in almost 100 years. Not about to start now…"

She was referring to post Civil War; godparents were of an abundance during times of civil disruption. Dave Walker was their godchild, one of five children, and his father, David Walker, was a landowner. Lynching was a common occurrence for African Americans, and the only place Dave felt safe was on the 21.5 acres farm his family owned. Jorgen Von Strangle had assigned Cosmo and Wanda to him to keep him safe, but when his black father had gotten into an altercation with a white man…his fate had been sealed, no matter how safe he was.

On October 3rd, 1908, a mob of fifty Night Riders invaded the property and set the log cabin on fire. No matter how much David and his wife Annie pleaded for the lives of them and their family, the Night Riders showed no mercy. They shot David first, then Annie. All while she held her infant daughter in her arms which they also senselessly riddled with bullets.

Being awakened by the gunshots and smoke, the first thought Dave had as he jumped out of bed was to unchain his sleeping pink and green foxhounds from his bedframe, concerned for their safety as the fire quickly spread around them. He'd ran with his four other siblings out of the house, and before they all made it past the front porch, Dave watched in horror as three of his brothers and sisters were brutally gunned down in front of him.

"Run!" Dave cried to Cosmo and Wanda, worried they'd get shot too. "Hurry!"

Three gunshots rang out, two piercing Dave's chest. One pierced the back of his head, right between the eyes. His blood splattered onto green and pink fur as his lifeless body dropped to the ground. He was just eight years old…

Cosmo and Wanda had narrowly escaped before they were instantly summoned to Fairy World. Given little time to grieve as Jorgen laid into them, condemning them. Scorning their otiose efforts, their sheer failure to keep their godchild safe. He had punished them with Level 14 probation, and the stress of that coupled with surmounting guilt spiraled Wanda into her old demons...

Cosmo fixed his stare at his wife, sucked into the memory of finding her wilted in the bathroom of their Fairy World home. Blade in one hand, blood pooling around her other arm. A red river gushed from the top of her inner elbow to her wrist. Fuchsia had fogged into a ghostly posy, glossed in tears mixed with pain and fear. She'd accidently hit a vital vein, skin ripped past muscle tissue. It killed him to think had he not found her a poofed her to the hospital when he did...

Seeing the worry in his face led her to approach him, cupping his cheek. "I just needed to scratch an itch, that's all." she reassured, giving a small grin for his sake.

Cosmo can be a little oblivious, but the aguish behind her smile could not be more obvious to him "…are you sure?" his voice was hushed.

"I'm fine, honey." She smiled again. Her spirits hadn't dropped to that low point, through bearing witness to Francis pounding away at her godson, feeling powerless to stop it, feeling useless…had sunk her pretty damn close.

Their attention was then directed towards the opened door, Timmy sulking his way inside as he shut the door. Observing his silent walk over to sit on his bed, drawing knees to his chest. The fairy couple shared worried looks before they hovered down to their godchild. "Are you okay, sport?" Wanda put on a brave face, covering her irritated wrist with a hand around it.

Timmy stared at his feet. He felt so numb…

"…maybe doing homework could take your mind off of today?" Wanda tried again. Her godson responded with a stern stare, nerving her on edge.

Sensing his wife's uneasiness, Cosmo forced his usual goofy grin. "Hey, I have an idea! Howa 'bout we play the 'Not Study' game again, instead?!"

Stern eyes redirected from godmother to godfather, waning the green fairy's grin. Timmy had been quiet since Francis had jumped him, speaking unless spoken to if he said anything at all. It was sad to say, but after multiple attempts to end it all, Cosmo recognized the gloom in those blue orbs…the gloom of lost hope.

Chloe took her time with the chef's knife, cutting asparagus spears into small pieces. Stationed by the kitchen counter next to the stove where her mother combined the cornstarch, sugar, vegetable broth, and soy sauce, stirring in a small bowl until the consistency was smooth. Asparagus Tofu Stir-Fry was on the menu for that night's dinner, requested by the patriarch for when he returned from his adventures rescuing injured wild animals in different cities. Rarely was there enough time in three differing schedules for a family meal, so Connie wanted everything to be perfect for the occasion.

After adding an accurate dash of salt and pepper to the sauce, Connie continued stirring as she snuck a glance over at her daughter. "Chloe, hurry up!" she furrowed an impatient brow. "I've already chopped the tofu and made the sauce in the same time span it's taken you to cut one vegetable! You still have the squash, gingerroot, and onions to prepare!"

"I'm almost done..." Chloe picked up the pace on her last spear, just as Connie stormed over and snatched a cube of asparagus, holding it right in front of Chloe's face.

"The recipe calls for one-inch pieces!" Connie griped. She tossed the asparagus, narrowly missing her daughter's hand still holding the knife. "This is not one inch!"

"Bitch, how you know, you got rulers for eyes?!" the indigo necklace sassed. Chloe gave her godmother a displeased look; luckily, her mother didn't hear Susie's comment. Susie whispered an apology for cursing, not for what she said.

Connie was on one more than usual, yelling at Chloe for wiping down the dining table with a disinfectant wipe instead of a wet cloth and soap, chastising her 'wastefulness.' Snapping at Chloe for not scooting in one of the chairs in enough after she'd finished drying the table off. Barking at Chloe when she'd accidently confused setting forks on the right of the plate and not the left. All because Connie wanted the 'best' atmosphere to not ruin their family dinner. It grinded Susie's gears somethin' serious!

"Guess we don't have a choice…" Connie groaned, gathering the asparagus in a bowl to set aside. Susie could feel Chloe's chest begin to restrict from shallow breaths, giving her a tender reminder to breathe. Inhaling through her nose, Chloe exhaled through her mouth as she moved on to preparing the yellow squash.

Carefully wiping the chef knife first for a clean slate, Chloe took the one squash and set it on the cutting board, positioning the knife for an even halve. Her mother looked over her shoulder, noting the knife not centered to her liking. She walked over to her daughter, holding both hands Chloe's hand holding the knife. Physically guiding the knife to ensure that exactly half the squash was cut, more out of slight irritation than maternal supervision.

Once this was complete, Connie looked over at the time on the microwave. It was 5:20pm, which meant if he was able to maneuver around rush hour, Clark would be home any minute. Seeing no time to lollygag, Connie decided to speed things along by chopping the green onions herself. Retrieving another cutting board and her original chef knife to prepare the thin slices required for the recipe.

Seeing her mother cut the onions tore another shred in Chloe's confidence. Her hands began trembling at the mere thought of incompetence.

"Oh my goodness, are you even trying?!" Connie expressed her displeasure at the unpatterned thickness of the squash slices, finished with slicing both green onions. "Those slices are nowhere near even!"

Masking heavy breathing became that much harder. "…s-sorry…"

"Don't be sorry! Be better!" Connie gathered the onions with another bowl, stomping over to set the stove to high heat. Ignorant to her daughter's straining breaths. "Now hurry up so I can start stir-frying the vegetables!"

Connie chucked the asparagus into the skillet to stir-fry, her back turned to Chloe clutching her chest. Lightheadedness requiring the kitchen counter for support, blinking away the threatening darkness creeping in.

"I'm right here, Chlo-bird." her indigo necklace coaxed, a soothing reminder to her godchild that she wasn't alone. "Just close your eyes, and count to ten."

Despite her lungs' refusal to expand, Chloe closed her eyes and tried to focus her breathing. Attempting to make it to ten aloud to herself. Just as her godmother had taught her. "O-O-One…t…t-two…t-three…" she swallowed the bile threatening to upheave "...four…five, six," her lungs seemed more willing to expand "seven, eight-"

"Why are you just standing there!?" her mother's bellow jolted her from concentration. "Get a move on!"

As Connie returned to her stir-fry, a subtle quiver persisted in Chloe's limbs. Grinding down on her teeth, she managed to ball her fist, counteracting their tremors. Creasing her brow as she muttered "…I wish this dinner was done…"

"Gurl, me too, cuz I'm sicka her!" Susie's indigo sparks flashed within a split second, wasting zero time creating the finished produced of tofu mixed with squash and asparagus over a bed of brown rice and glazed in the broth sauce in a ceramic bowl, ready to serve.

As if no time lapsed and nothing out of the ordinary just happened, Connie took the ceramic bowl and carried it into the dining room. Chloe took the chance to normalize her breath, bringing a hand to her chest as she closed her eyes. Inhaling through her nose, out through her mouth. Repeating until she finally felt normal again, just as the front door unlocked upon the world's most overachieving conservationist's arrival.

"I'm hooooooome!" Clark exclaimed, his sing-song manner honestly irritating to Chloe's ears. He took a long sniff, smiling in anticipation. "Mmmmmmm, smells delicious! Bet it's worth slaving over a hot stove!"

If only he knew…

The door to the nine-year-old's bedroom creaked open, her good arm fumbling with the doorknob as aching legs wobbled, dragging feet across the floor. Ivory stained red, the worst of her slashes trickling scarlet from when the belt had broken skin. She shut the door behind her with her foot, forcing her backpack off. Gritting her teeth through the pain as she freed her bad arm, tossing her backpack before cradling her throbbing arm. Once she the little girl shut herself off in the refuge of her room, her fairy godmother transformed out of her bracelet disguise, grim eyes watching her godchild stand like a statue.

"…Tootie?" Rose called out softly, though Tootie's stare remained unfocused. Getting beaten mercilessly like a dog for hours straight will do that.

Little emotion shone in Tootie's blank gaze. Too drained for regrets. "…I wish my arm wasn't broken…"

Empathy fell in Rose's features. Despite her surprise that Tootie openly made a wish without being prompted, she spoke almost inaudibly. Almost as if her voice had been stripped from her.

Rose raised her wand with a teal spark, mending the two fractures in Tootie's left forearm. Tootie demonstrated her healing by wiggling her fingers, pain at least absent in her hand. She let her arm fall to one side as the other wiped her tears, pushing up her glasses. Sniffing behind hushed sobs.

"Anything else, sweetheart?" Rose hovered closer to Tootie, more worried.

"…no, thank you…" Tootie squeaked, shuffling over to her bed as the burning irritation still lingered in her skin. Her parents may not of have been aware that her arm broke when her father threw her, so if she was to wish her slash wounds to be healed, her father might punish her worse…

The fairy watched Tootie wince in her struggle to lift herself onto her lavender duvet. Whimpering when she scooted towards her pillows, lowering her head to them as silent tears fell. Facing the setting sun in its first appearance the entire day, casting clouds in warm ombres from amber to violet. Such divine beauty throbbed her soul from the heartache in her chest. Hovering to join her on the bed, the Rose observed her godchild. Careful taking her seat when Tootie stiffened, making sure to sit a far enough distance.

Dead silence hung in the air as Rose twirled her wand, pondering if this was something she could do to ease the tense atmosphere. Maybe a distraction could help escape from such a dark headspace. Turning to face Tootie, an idea came to mind. Her wand sparked before a used book of drawings appeared on her lap. Tootie didn't budge as Rose scooted closer, careful not to invade too much of her space. Patience waited for moments to pass before Tootie lifted her head, peering over her shoulder.

Rose watched Tootie's glum eyes lower to the sketchbook, offering a warm grin "…wanna see?"

Slowly, Tootie rolled to her back, wincing from her soreness. The fairy held out her sketchbook, edges torn and tattered from millenniums past. Though apprehensive, Tootie reached a coy hand, making herself sit up as she took the sketchbook into her lap. Pulling back the cover, a color pencil sketch appeared. A golden sign sitting atop a pastel rainbow bridge, 'Fairy World' signed in pink Lucida against a turquoise backdrop with a crown over the 'F' and a gold star dotting the 'i' in 'Fairy.' Drawn with such detail that one could mistake it for a photo from far away.

"…you like it?" Rose spoke gently. "Drew that the day after my high school graduation. Don't know why, just felt like it."

Tootie glanced at her before she continued flipping through, finding some artwork complete with others abandoned, perhaps from lost inspiration. Some in black and white, others in color. Some presumed portraits of other magical fairies, others of scenic imagery. Imagery such as sunlight glistening through pink clouds among fallen mauve leaves, or a college campus vibrant and lively with other flying creatures. Tootie had to admit, these drawings were amazing. Better than anything she could ever create.

She scanned through the sketches until she landed on a pencil portrait that looked well preserved. A portrait that included a much younger Rose and a fairy man with spikey hair. The man held what was assumed to be a camera at an angle to fit them both into the frame. Rose had drawn her arms wrapped around his torso from behind with her lips pursed against his half-smiling cheek.

"That's Spike…my husband." Rose smiled at the captured memory. "This is from when we'd first started dating." But then her smile faded with grave eyes to her godchild. "He taught me that true love isn't supposed to hurt you."

The raven-haired girl looked up once more, finding herself suddenly curious enough to squeak "…w-what do you mean?"

Inhaling a deep breath, the fairy exhaled her nerves. Memories recalled that should stay buried in the past. Memories that could possibly help her godchild feel less…alone. "…I dated this guy in high school. He…used to take advantage of me, and if I didn't comply, he would hurt me." Rose settled for the SparkNotes version.

"…hurt you?" Tootie frowned.

"Yeah…" Rose confirmed softly, briefly diverting her eyes "…like how your father hurts you."

Tootie looked away with a pout. Just when a three-hour punishment actually started slipping from her mind…

"It…pains me every time he hurts you." Rose admitted earnestly, lowering her gaze to the wand clutched in her grasp "…makes me feel powerless…like how I felt in that relationship."

Tootie hung her head, heavy with swarming questions. She didn't realize fairies were more than just their magic. That they too have feelings…bad memories. Painful memories. "What…" she spoke up, lifting her chin to teal eyes meeting hers "…h-how did you…get out?"

"…reported him to the police."

"…w-was that hard?"

"It was…" Rose paused "…which…is why I haven't mentioned reporting your father."

"…what?" Tootie didn't quite understand.

Sensing this, Rose let out a sigh. Choosing careful words. "Love doesn't slash you with a belt or throw you on the ground and break your arm. All for something that was not in your control. And if 'God is Love,'" Rose gave air quotes "then why would a loving God condone that?"

"…I guess…" Tootie's uncertainty looked away, setting the sketchbook aside as she drew her knees "…but…I did a bad thing."

"You did exactly what you were told to do, and you still got crap for it!" Rose realized she might have overstepped when Tootie shivered from her outburst. "…I'm sorry…" she lamented. "…I just think that when it comes to 'honor thy mother and father,' there's a fine line."

Squeezing herself, Tootie returned to facing the sunset. Never question Jehovah God. Always have faith in Him. This is exactly what Satan wants…to question Him. After today and after hearing Rose's testimony…maybe it was time to start.

"Oh, what's the moment Fairy World's been waiting eighteen years for, you ask? Nurse Blonda finally kissing Dr. Poof Everwish…yippy…"

"You do not sound too excited, chica." Juandissimo could hear the repugnance tone through his phone.

"Well, you tell me, chico…" The fairy actress scoffed on the other line "…who's ever excited to kiss stank garlic breath?!"

"…perhaps if it might be a career changer?"

"I'd rather kiss a literal skunk's ass."

Juandissimo clenched his abs in laughter, the first in the longest time that he'd laughed so hard. His love joined soon after, tickled by her own corny joke.

Remy had gone downstairs for dinner, a dinner that Fenwick would be present for. Something Juandissimo was not shy in expressing his concerns. This did not aid in his nonexistent choice whether to be by his godchild's side, for Remy had wished for him to stay in the room. No matter the hidden motive, and no matter the obvious objections. Juandissimo had to comply.

Blonda had called him after he'd reached out through text. Admittingly, she was disturbed from how dour he came across and wanted to check on him. To help cheer him up, she figured she'd catch him up on all the juicy backstage drama of her film shoots for All My Biceps.

Unsurprising to her, her plan to lift his spirits seemed to be working. "Well, just think of me when you have to do those scenes." he teased playfully.

"Please, at least you've heard of dental hygiene…" Blonda scoffed. "It's like this man avoids toothpaste like the damn plague."

Just as Juandissimo chuckled, he was interrupted by the bedroom door broke open. The young billionaire stomped inside, slamming door from behind. Blind to his godfather observant gaze, the air suddenly darkened in his trudge towards his white rubberwood desk where he slumped in his Chisum chair, crossing his arms in his sulking pout.

"Um…I have to go." Juandissimo kept his eye on his godchild, concern creasing his brow. "Te amos" was exchanged tenderly between the fairies before he ended the call, setting his phone in his back pocket as he floated towards the brooding child. "¿Qué pasa mal, Remy?"

Remy had heard enough Spanish from the other maids to understand what his godfather asked, responding by snapping out the arm with a crumpled note in his fingers, glaring straight ahead. Unsure of what this meant at first, Juandissimo then retrieved the note, unfolding the single sticky note to read the oh so elaborate text of 'Business cruise. You have Fenwick,' signed with the initials 'O.R.B.'

Sympathy wrinkled in his forehead as he looked back to the young billionaire, crumpling the note in his palm. Being Remy's Fairy Godparent for a while, he'd quickly learned that 'business cruise' was just code for 'we're going on a fun, exciting, childfree vacation without you because we can, so suck it.' "Oh, Remy…" Juandissimo exhaled, poofing the note into oblivion "…what can I do?"

Remy slit his brow further. He could just wish his parents gave a care, but how could he when his parents had no cares to give? They never cared and never will…even if magically coerced. "…I hate them."

There was venom in the child's words, furrowing the fairy's brow. "Hate is a very strong word, Remy."

"I know that, dingbat! I'm eleven, not one!" Remy shot, unmindful of his ill manners until he noticed no response followed. Spinning around in his chair, he faced blue-violets sunk somberly, instant remorse softening his glare "…sorry."

"Está bien…" Juandissimo frowned, folding his arms. Words can sting like a bitch, but he could never hold anything personal against an upset child.

Regret grimaced in Remy's features. He took his frustrations out on the wrong target. That wasn't very polite…Juandissimo must hate him now. "…I'm going for a walk…"

Juandissimo watched Remy rise from his chair, trudging back towards the bedroom door "…want company?"

Stalling with his grip on the knob, Remy kept his back turned. No longer able to look the fairy in the eye for what he was about to do "No…stay here." came his muttered reply "…just need some air." He could hear his godfather's drear groan upon his departure as he closed the door behind him. Rubbing his arm as he ventured three doors to his right down the hall.

Once again, his parents were nowhere to be found for dinner, and their whereabouts was only revealed from the random sticky note given to him by one of the butlers. By the time he was informed of his parents' 'business cruise,' they were already halfway across the Pacific Ocean on their private ship. To say it jabbed another hole in his heart was an understatement; the Buxaplentys often enjoyed the indulgence of vacationing whenever and however much they wanted, and their only son would never be included. Simply because bringing a child would cramp the flex in their style.

Fenwick had noticed the sadness in Remy's eyes across the dinner table, asking if the fiasco from last night is why Remy was acting so distant with him. While most of that was true, Remy used his parents' impromptu vacation that once again left him high and dry as a reason. Fenwick already knew about the vacation since he and the Buxaplentys had been best friends since high school, and he felt bad for not telling Remy before he had to find out through some tacky note.

"I've known you since before you were born…no one understands you like I do." the nanny had expressed, loving in his smile. "I can help you feel better…my door is open."

And, indeed, his bedroom door was slightly ajar. Remy stopped before it, hesitating.

Juandissimo was nice and all but…physical affection didn't exist with him. Perhaps it was to not make Remy feel uncomfortable. Yeah, sometimes, that was true. Other times…it was exactly what he needed.

Fenwick never faltered on that front. The tender hugs, the gentle back rubs, the reassuring touch on the shoulder. The extra 'gropy' stuff wasn't always so favorable, but at least Fenwick knew when the ice in his spirit yearned for the warmth of affection…

Juandissimo simply didn't give him that. Fenwick had always been there, and for that at least, he was grateful.

Remy snuck a wavering glance at his bedroom door, hearing Fenwick's voice in his mind. "No one understands you like I do…" What if…Fenwick was right?

Tearing his eyes away from his bedroom, Remy approached the nanny's door with three meek knocks. Not waiting long before the nanny appeared, widening the door. Greeting his lover with the happiest grin.

"…I knew you loved me enough to come."

Remy returned the greeting with a timid stare. He never wanted the only person who'd ever loved him to be upset with him.

AN: David Walker and his African American family were unjustly murdered in 1908. It's crazy that I never heard about this in American History. I always wondered what having a godparent would've been like during those times, so I referenced that story with minor alterations. Just look up 'the lynching of the Walker family' for more info, if you're interested.

May they rest in power.