Don't think I should put TWs before each chapter since there's a big one in the summary, but I do it for those who, for some reason, skip summaries. Trust that if you read, you will cringe by the end of this chapter.
Guest: The Grass is Greener episode, to me, was very dark beneath the PG surface. I saw for the first time how unwanted Timmy truly felt. It fit the vibe of this fic, so I made it an intentional reference.
Midnight's moon glistened as a greyhound's alerting bark broke through the night's silence from the red pickup rumbling along gravel roads through the brick entrance of Happy Trails Trailer Park. Maneuvering through sectioned trails, the pickup then rumbled to a stop in front of the Flagstaff camper before the driver killed the engine and headlights. The scruffy man sighed with both hands on the steering wheel, pink eyes contemplating where to go from here.
Sporting a black leather vest over a white wife-beater with a leather belt looped around ripped dark denim paired with black combats, Vic Byrne combed through the long red hair that matched his older niece still in the passenger seat. Looking over to see her distracted by her own racing thoughts with his younger, raven-haired niece cradled peacefully in the blanket of her sister's arms.
Vicky had been surprised to get a call from the Turners around ten-thirty that night and was even more shocked when they'd told her that her poor little sister had stumbled upon their doorstep battered and bruised. She'd immediately phoned her uncle at his nightshift that Tootie had escaped and was more than prepared to go rescue her sister alone, but Vic had no qualms informing his boss of a family emergency to pick up Vicky in his truck. When they'd arrived almost an hour later, Tootie was sound asleep next to the Turners on the couch. They'd cleaned the dried blood and applied ointment for Tootie's bruises before they'd changed her into one of Sophia's old nightgowns to free her from her bloody shirt. They'd told Vicky and Vic that Tootie never did say who'd hurt her or why, as if her lips had been sworn to secrecy. Grateful for the Turner's hospitality, Vicky and Vic knew exactly who the perpetrator was and had assured the Turners that they would handle it.
Vicky and Vic had been planning behind the scenes to free Tootie from that insufferable cult, saving her babysitting money and any extra money he could save from his job. Brainstorming "rescue mission" ideas in case Tootie had not been so willing to break her chains. For their chance to come sooner than expected, for Tootie to literally risk damnation by going to the Turners, proved to them the severity of the situation. Despite all the damage of brainwashing her impressionable mind, Tootie had the intuition and the courage to get out, and while this also came as a shock, they were both extremely thankful things did not reach worst-case scenario.
Jim was ironically strong for his scrawny size; he helped bring Tootie into this world, and he was very capable of taking her out…
"Vicky..." Vic called out softly, waiting for his older niece to acknowledge him. "Let's bring her inside."
Giving an understanding nod, Vicky was careful in removing her seatbelt from securing the sisters to the passenger seat, opening the door while delicately lifting Tootie so that her head rested on her shoulder as Tootie's arm cuffed with her teal bracelet dangled. Vic reached behind the driver seat for the bag of Tootie's clothes and taped glasses before all occupants exited the pickup, Vic using his keys to lock the doors.
He climbed the two steps and used his other key to unlock the door, stepping aside for Vicky to carry Tootie through the front entry. Vicky flipped the light switch and was met with the bench seating of worn fabric to her right. Vic shut the door to secure the lock for the night as Vicky carried Tootie passed the single slide out housing the table and matching booths. To her left as she walked along scuffed tile was the small kitchen with the mounted TV beside the single cabinet, and as she ventured through the narrow hallway with the wooden refrigerator to her left and the single bathroom to her right, she held Tootie securely as she drew back the curtain separating the queen bedroom from the rest of the camper where the space between the mattress and the back entrance could fit one adult leg at a time.
Vicky looked down to the little girl beginning to whimper in her stir against her shoulder, seeing Tootie's unfocused blinks as her whimpers grew louder. While still groggy, the blurriness in her vision only amplified the ambiguity of where she was or how she got there, anxiety of the unknown trembling faintly in her body. Flipping the light for the bedroom, Vicky lowered the shuddering girl to the bed as Vic leaned against the curtain, setting the bag of clothes by the closet as he handed purple glasses to Vicky.
Quivering arms hugged herself as her vision cleared once a gentle pair of hands put her glasses on, the view of pink eyes and red hair as the first thing she saw. Though grave in her expression, her sister's soft hands the cupped her cheeks. "It's okay, we're at Uncle Vic's." Vicky's tone was gentle, more nurturing than she'd ever extend to another child "…you're safe now."
Just hearing her sister's voice settled the tremble in her arms, coming to realization. Overcome with the gratitude that launched herself with arms squeezed around Vicky's neck. Vicky didn't dare push her away, returning the same loving squeeze that she so desperately craved. Closing her eyes as Tootie whimpered into her shoulder, rubbing gentle circles on her back. Just grateful to be able to hold her sister again.
"You did the right thing by goin' to the Turners." Vic spoke through the sisterly moment, Tootie lifting glossy eyes to her uncle as her sister let her go. "We're proud of you."
Tootie shuddered at the word 'proud.' She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard that specifically directed at her.
"Imma look through the phone book and call CPS in the morning." Vic continued with a huff, anticipating the start of a grueling battle. "Make sure he can't ever lay a hand on you again."
The opposite of reassurance shivered down Tootie's spine, biting down on her unsettled lip. Holding her teal bracelet close to her chest as Vicky moved to sit next to her at the foot of the mattress.
"Don't worry about them." Vicky comforted, sensing Tootie's fear of their parents. "We'll keep them as far away from you as possible."
Though still troubled by the notion, Tootie weakly nodded with weary eyes lowering to her bracelet, her delicate thumb brushing along the metal surface. Trying to be careful not to wake the sleeping fairy in her need of her godmother's comfort.
"You girls get some sleep; we'll talk more in the mornin'." Vic stood from his lean, closing the curtain on his way out to find another way to occupy his night schedule. "G'night."
"Night Uncle Vic." Vicky waited for her uncle's footsteps to travel away from the curtain before she sighed, untying her boots and kicking them off her feet. Turning to her silent sister still brushing her bracelet, thinking Tootie would be more comfortable if she took her bracelet off. However, when she reached for Tootie's arm, Tootie jerked back with a whining gasp, clutching her wrist protectively as Vicky raised her hands.
"Alright, alright…I won't touch it." Vicky wondered just how important that little bracelet was as Tootie's shoulders calmed once more with the bracelet still clutched to her chest.
Eight-year-oldTimmy sulked alone on the living room couch, looking on with crossed arms and legs as his mother and father squatted next to his twin sister on the floor. Shoving a camcorder in Sophia's face while she hummed an innocent song to her dolls. Once against cast to the side, he watched his parents capture every waking second of Sophia's song, glee plastered in their wide smiles. Smiles solely for Sophia, never for him.
Her twintuition kicked in as Sophia stopped her hum, frowning sympathetically at her brother's obvious loneliness. An idea came to mind as her parents videoed her standing to her feet and making her way over to the couch where Timmy's pout met her warm grin, extending one of her dolls to him. "Wanna play, Bubba?"
"He can't play with you." Timmy looked over Sophia's shoulder to the sound of their father's stern voice. Both his mother and his father's smiles that were now stabbing glares. The light of afternoon darkened in the room, enclosing their surroundings in a dark abyss when dark words uttered past Daran's lips…
"You're already dead."
In a dreading blink, Sophia was no longer in front of him and was now spotlighted at the bottom of the steps, lying on her back. Crimson pooling around brunette strands, staining her pink bow red. Mouth agape in a permanent scream, her neck crooked at an odd angle to where her pupilless eyes stared straight at him.
"Sophia is dead because of you…" he heard his mother's harsh whisper, snapping to the spotlight of their scowling eyes now black and hollow. A gasp escaped, feeling his ribs throb from the pounds of his racing heart as his mother's black eyes deepened her slit brows in the scornful bellow that boomed off the walls.
"YOU KILLED HER!"
His yelp catapulted him upright, peering out into the dark of night where a slither of moonlight cast a blue glow on his bedsheets. Clawing at his pounding heart beneath his pajama's light-pink cotton fabric that he had no memory of changing into. Wide eyes looked down at his legs beneath his duvet before they snapped to his alarm clock, 2:22 am blaring green next to the fishbowl on his nightstand.
"Cosmo?! Wanda?!" his chest heaved when his fairies didn't appear when called, worsening his panic. "Cosmo! Wanda!"
Blue eyes were fixed on the fishbowl as his calls went unanswered once more, filling his heart with dread. Last he remembered was being held in their arms after he'd loosened Sophia's ribbon from around his neck. Was that why they weren't here? Were they upset from what he did?
"Cosmo, Wanda, please!" he cried out to the fishbowl, blinking back tears. "I need you!"
No sooner after his plea did the fairy couple appear from their magical clouds, floating above the fishbowl. Even with limited lighting could he see the bags beneath their eyes, heartache heavy in their frowns. His blue eyes welled at their silence, guilt turbulent in the pit of his stomach. His fairies were hurting…and it was all his fault.
Cosmo and Wanda observed him. They knew he'd awakened from another bad dream, but they'd decided to let him set the boundaries. They would hate to rile another explosive episode that would lead towards another attempt…
"…I-I'm sorry, I…dunno what came over me." he whimpered to them, uncertain what bit of good an apology would do if he can't turn back time. Their expressions remained unchanged, creasing his remorseful pout "…please forgive me?"
As he waited for some kind of response, his eyes caught the glimpse of red marks along the pink fairy's arm near the rubber band hanging from her wrist. Soon realizing where his glossy eyes had landed, Wanda's immediate instinct was to draw her arm against her bosom, masking self-inflicted marks with her other hand.
"…a-are you okay?" he squeaked, genuinely concerned. When Wanda's grimace looked away as her husband rubbed her lower back, he too lowered his gaze. "I…" his fingers crinkled his bedsheets "…I understand if you don't forgive me…"
"…it's not that, champ." the green fairy was the first of the duo to speak, making Timmy turn to his grave green expression. "…we've been in your shoes."
"…what do you mean?"
Unnerve tensed the godfather's shoulders, his wife directing vicarious eyes to him as he balled one fist. Grappling whether he should confess to the darkest secret that he'd kept from all godchildren prior. Never had he connected with a mere child on such dark levels. Never did he think that day would come.
"…Cosmo?" Timmy piped, having not seen such doom and gloom from the normally jovial fairy.
"…I can relate…why you did what you did." Cosmo eventually spoke up, removing his hand from his wife's back. Mustering enough emotional courage to stare at the wand gripped in his hands. "I um…" he swallowed "…I tried the same thing a couple times."
Timmy tried to process what his godfather had just admitted "…really?"
Cosmo nodded weakly. "Even almost died. Sometimes it still crosses my mind whenever I screw up badly…" his grip around his wand tightened "…but I haven't tried again cuz um…my papa did the same thing and…" he glanced to Wanda's sympathetic frown. "I don't wanna make Wanda feel how papa made me feel…I don't want anyone I care about to feel that way."
More ashamed of himself, Timmy lowered his chin. Fairies were supposed to be these light, whimsical creatures that he'd heard about in fairytales. Who knew even fairies can carry heavy burdens.
"…I'd started hurting myself when life got too much to handle." Wanda found the courage to hop on the confession train, lowering her arm to reveal faded scars and welts reddened from fresh snaps. "…and there were a few times that I hurt myself to where I almost didn't make it."
Even when Timmy sensed that Wanda chose to her story short, he could feel the longevity of her pain in her voice. "…I'm so sorry…I had no idea."
"As you shouldn't." Wanda remarked. "We're here to make a miserable child happy."
Cosmo hung his head at the image of Timmy almost suffocating suffocate himself in his mind. "Guess we're not doing a very good job…"
"No! T-That's not true! It's my fault…" Timmy's heart ached from Cosmo's words, tearing up as he hugged himself. Hating himself for making his fairies feel like failures when they've done more for him in over a month than his own parents ever did in ten years "…I caused you guys more pain and…I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, sport." Wanda inched towards him, apprehensive place a tender touch to his shoulder. "Just…promise us that if you ever feel like giving up like that again, you'll tell us and not act on those thoughts."
The ten-year-old nodded in understanding, quiet tears streaming down his cheeks. Feeling more like a burden than ever before.
"Pick it up, Chloe!" the middle-aged mother barked over her shoulder at her child, she and her husband far ahead. "You're slowing us down!"
With autumn air's chill burning in her lungs, Chloe tried to push through the jog that had been forced into a run. Her mother had a thing for adding additional challenge to these Carmichael morning jogs, and that day's challenge was adding an additional half mile to their routine two miles while virtually sprinting the entire 2.5 miles. Clark had to be on call that day for emergency wildlife rescue cases, so this was perfect in maintaining his physical stamina. For a ten-year-old girl made to sit inside and study 25/8…not so much.
When the Carmichaels had reached the end of the 40th block, they were about run across the crosswalk onto the next street when they heard their daughter cry out from behind, struggling to catch her breath. Chloe doubled over with a hand clawed at her chest, her lungs unable to expand.
"Push through, Chloe!" Clark's firm voice commanded, jogging in place with steady breaths as if on a casual Sunday stroll through the park. "Carmichael's don't quit!"
"I can't breathe!" she managed to choke out, regretting making her fairy godmother stay home because, in her mind, Susie deserved a little break. Clearly, she'd chosen the wrong day for such grace.
"This is what you get for slacking off and getting yourself out of shape!" Connie griped.
"I…I-I can't…" Chloe cried harder, dizziness jumbling her thoughts. Her lungs refused to intake air, her heart thumping so fast it felt as if the inside of her chest vibrated. She dropped to her knees as darkness crept into her vision no matter how many times she blinked, blood running cold.
…was this what dying felt like?
"Good Lord, stop being so dramatic!" Connie expressed her frustrations. It was only two miles…sheesh! That kid and her stupid excuses…
Her struggling gasps could no longer form words, both hands now clasped to the tight pain in her chest. Unblinking eyes enlarged as stop signs and suburban roads blurred together in a foggy haze, darkness squeezing its chokehold. A final wheeze rasped as darkness suffocated her, and the rest of her body fell over face first onto the sidewalk's concrete.
"Stop it, Chloe!" Clark commanded again, pausing his jog in strides towards her motionless body. "This is nowhere near funny!"
There was no reaction to his voice as he approached his daughter, no movement, no sound. His wife rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as Clark kneeled to Chloe, giving her back an aggressive shake, and when no response came from that, he rolled her onto her back to find her chest rigid like a corpse. "…Chloe?" he shook her again, her head bobbling as the only reaction. Her eyes did not open, and there was no breath past parted lips. Lowering two fingers to the side of her neck…he felt no pulse.
A sense of dread furrowed his brow. Something was terribly wrong.
"…Chloe!" he snapped into rescue mode, starting mouth-to-mouth and CPR.
"You're wasting your efforts, Clark." Connie sneered, walking up behind her husband's frantic attempts to resuscitate. "She's just getting out of finishing this jog-"
"OUR DAUGHTER IS CLINICALLY DEAD! CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT?!"
Connie took a flabbergasted step back at his booming voice resonate through the air. While not soft spoken, never in their twelve years of marriage had Clark ever raised his voice at her. Even in the most pressing times. No man ever dared speak to her like that, and she took great offense, slitting her brow as Clark returned to pumping two palms to Chloe's chest, pausing just long enough in between to breathe oxygen into her mouth.
Minutes felt like hours before the little girl jolted in a loud gasp, overtaken by wheezing coughs as she rolled to one side.
"Calm down, Chlo." Clark coached her, softening his tone. "You're gonna be alright-"
"Get up! Now!" Connie growled, annoyed from the entire situation as she was then met with Clark's warning glare.
"Ease up, Connie."
"Ease up!?" Connie shot him her own glare. "We've already wasted almost four minutes because of her!"
"Is that really all you care about?! Finishing this jog?!"
"I care about Chloe being dramatic like she always is!"
"For Christ's sake, Connie! Our daughter almost died!"
She knew she'd fallen, yet she didn't remember hitting the ground. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think. Heard no sound, felt no pain. Floated in an endless pool of dark matter. Of nothingness. Though panic can feel like death, she couldn't recall her attacks ever reaching the severe point of ending her life. Hearing that she'd come so close to dying restarted the race in Chloe's heart.
Sensing tension brewing thick in the air amidst her parents' verbal argument, she palmed her chest slowly tightening, struggling to shut out the yelling. Fighting through the fog to remember what Susie had taught her.
O-O-One…t…two….t-three…
The middle-aged nanny cocked his head back against his bedroom wall, forehead laced in sweat glistening from the afternoon sun shimmering through his window. Grunts became moans when he'd reached the highest peak, limbs jerking in ecstasy before he calmed with deep breaths. Parting pleased eyes down to the source of his pleasure.
Removing himself, Fenwick walked away to go clean himself off as the young billionaire hurriedly crawled on his knees along the plush carpet, grabbing the trashcan next to Fenwick's bed. Spitting out the stickiness in his mouth that made him want to vomit. With used tissue in hand, Fenwick kneeled down to the boy, a gentle finger brushing Remy's hair from his face as the back of Remy's hand wiped his mouth. Mint eyes meeting the satisfied brown smiling at him.
"You're a natural." Fenwick cooed, Remy cringing as he watched Fenwick toss the tissue in the trash. "I think that deserves a reward."
Remy winced. He knew exactly what that meant.
He didn't have time to object before Fenwick stood on his knees, carefully lifting Remy by one arm to his feet. His back against the wall of the mattress, Remy felt backed into a corner with nowhere else to go as Fenwick kept his smile on him, wasting little time loosening the front of Remy's pants.
Remy redirected anticipating eyes to the ceiling as a distraction from what was to come. Observing the sparkling lights encased in glass leaves, dangling from the crystal chandelier. Was this as okay as Fenwick always said it was? Is this something he should want just as much as Fenwick did?
A wet suction shuddered in his spine, shooting weird tingles through his nerves. Eyes still towards the ceiling, his mind thought back to Fenwick luring him to his room after their gourmet lunch. Tender hands had rubbed his shoulders with the warmest smile, the same smile he always gave when they were alone.
"I want to show you another way people express their love for each other…just between us."
His train of thought started to derail after a while, breaths quickening as Fenwick's gestures became harder to ignore. His bowtie became a neck heater, the heat in his skin steeping. Rising. Ballooning pressure in his center, returning the familiar urge to pee. His eyes enlarged as his mind drew blank in the sudden wave of dopamine, crashing into his body. Spewing from his head, washing down to his toes…
His body startled when something wet trickled out. Liquid that…didn't feel like going to the bathroom.
Short in his breaths, Remy snapped goggled eyes down to the nanny who appeared unfazed. Wiping his proud grin dry as he stood to his feet. "…looks like I finally took you there." he crooned. "Good boy."
Shock mixed in shame stared back, sorting through juggled thoughts to comprehend what'd just happened. This was all so new, he barely understood what it all even meant.
"Don't worry." Fenwick set a hand on Remy's tense shoulder. "You'll appreciate it more when you're older."
. . . . . .
The Hispanic fairy lay on his back across the king-size bed, texting the little sister that he hadn't spoken to in months. Understandably so; while he was granting wishes on earth, Juanita was living her rockstar life with her band, Roy G Biv. Traveling and performing shows across all of Fairy World. Even booking a gig in Pixie World…totally random.
Chuckling at Juanita's recount of her most recent show where a fangirl had streaked across the stage, he was typing his response when the bedroom door burst open. Sitting up on the bed, he eyed his godchild's dash, almost tripping over his own feet as he disappeared into the on-suite. Sending a quick text to his sister, Juandissimo then floated from the bed over to the open bathroom door, arching a brow at Remy gurgling waterfalls of sink water before spitting it back out.
This was strange; Remy had left for lunch over an hour ago…did he eat something bad?
Juandissimo kept his distance, hovering in the doorframe in his observance of Remy squirting a gob of toothpaste on his toothbrush before sticking it in his mouth, brushing with unusual vigor. As if, instead of preserving proper dental hygiene, he was cleansing a bitter, abhorrent taste off his tongue. "…are you alright?"
A wad of minty suds spat from Remy's sudsy lips into the running water before he continued brushing.
"Remy…" Juandissimo moped at his godchild's silence "…háblame."
Remy had learned this phrase from how many times Juandissimo said it. It had become his go-to whenever Remy refused to open to him. Nuh uh, no way was he saying anything to Juandissimo. Not about this.
After a vigorous rinse, Remy twisted the valve, shutting off the water. Leaning with both hands over the sink. Scowling into his shameful reflection as bitterness muttered through gritted teeth "Leave me alone…"
"…Remy-"
"I wish you'd just leave me alone!"
Juandissimo stared, disheartenment furrowed in the fairy's brow. Staring at the mint glare stabbing his spirit. Mint eyes near the verge of tears. Though his heart ached for the child, he clearly wanted to keep the source of his pain private.
Unable to bear his godfather's pout, Remy stomped from the sink to the door, shutting it in Juandissimo's face before he slammed his back against it. Clawing at his blonde hair in his slide down, his rear end touching cool tile as he buried threatening tears into bent knees.
Veronica never talked about doing that with her mother. Tad and Chad never talked about doing that with their parents. Trixie never talked about doing that with her parents…he has never heard any child willingly doing that with any guardian and…enjoying it. He certainly didn't enjoy doing it but…someone doing it to him? Did he enjoy it? It felt weird just thinking about enjoying it. And how the heck did he pee without…peeing?! What even was that?!
Remy hit the back of his head against the door, letting out a conflicted grunt growling in his throat. Slamming a clenched fist against hard tile while his other arm smeared his tears away. His brain felt so scrambled like overcooked eggs. Love was supposed to feel good…yet he hated himself for it.
Silence had been his company until a sense of loneliness weighted his already heavy spirit. He didn't mean to yell at Juandissimo. He didn't really want to be alone. He was just ashamed and didn't want Juandissimo to know why. And now…he felt more unloved than he had in years.
…did he even deserve love?
Wiping his eyes, Remy stood to his feet, hesitant in twisting the knob to open the door. Spotting his godfather at the foot of his bedframe, seated on tiled floor. His face hidden in folded arms across his knees. Regret panged his chest, slowly approaching the fairy after shutting his bathroom door. Stopping right in front of Juandissimo's feet, met with no reaction. A fretful hand rubbed at his arm; he'd must've really hurt his feelings this time…
"…what are you doing?" Remy's murmur broke the silence, causing Juandissimo to lift somber eyes from his arms.
"You had wished to be left alone, so that is what I am doing."
Remy paused at his monotone, raising a brow "…on the floor, though?"
Juandissimo faintly shrugged, and Remy cowered. His hardened demeanor felt so unsettling, so closed off. Guess this was a taste of his own medicine.
"…t-that's…" Remy briefly looked away "…not what I want anymore."
"Alright." Juandissimo coolly lifted himself off the ground, hovering into the air while facing his godchild. "What do you want?"
His hand crimpled the ironed fabric in his tux, staring coyly at his feet. "…I, uh…" Remy cleared his throat, ashamed at his weakness. Hesitant to admit what he felt he didn't deserve, what he longed for "…I-I wish I had a hug."
Juandissimo's quiet, vague gaze made him worried that his need for a hug would be rejected. His parents had taught him well in that regard. What they didn't teach him was delayed response, not expecting a warm grin to curl in Juandissimo's lips.
"You never have to wish for that."
Remy fixed his apprehensive brow as the fairy carefully approached, noting every outline of muscle beneath form-fitted fabric when rock hard biceps extended outward. The fairy leaned closer to fold his arms around his, though he pulled away when his godchild flinched instinctively in his embrace.
"…you are certain that you want this?" Juandissimo asked, watching Remy's eyes dart contemplatively. Patiently waiting for the shy nod that was followed by hesitant arms reaching gradually around his torso. Seemingly given the 'ok,' Juandissimo hugged him back, and Remy mentally scolded himself for being so stiff. It just felt completely different being swallowed by muscles versus hugging bones in skin's clothing.
A moment passed before Juandissimo was about to pull away again, interrupted by a strong tug drawing him back in. Remy nestled his cheek against Juandissimo's abs, not wanting the hug to end. Juandissimo couldn't help but smile at the endearing gesture, fully embracing him. Perhaps this was their right foot; maybe they were finally starting to get somewhere…
Until a child's hand cupped his left butt cheek.
Startled, Juandissimo shoved himself away, shock mixed in shame staring back at his goggled eyes. The eleven-year-old froze, mortified. Humiliated…confused. Fenwick had always told him this was how people show they love each other…
Did Juandissimo not love him?
Rejection quivered his bottom lip, tearing himself away. Ignoring his godfather's call in his rush out of the bedroom.
AN: I'd read somewhere that anxiety can get so bad it can lead to cardiac arrest. Like bruh...this why mental health should be taken seriously. The mind is so freakin' powerful.