Patches of morning blue peeped through puffy blankets of grey through the 5th grade teacher's bedroom window. Mr. Crocker was hard at work making tweaks to his homemade fairy detector made out of scrap metal, parts from a Trans-Pac GPS tracker purchased off the internet, and other junk lying around the house. Despite Geraldine's advice to use his sick days in recovery from his confirmed concussion, Mr. Crocker had spent the rest of the week couped in his room, ignoring bedrest for his soul's purpose.

He winced from the dull throb in his head, using his screwdriver to tighten a bolt to the internal antenna. Pink and green had invaded his dreams ever since his fall. Crowned pink and green parrots, to be exact. Admittedly, common sense sprinkled a bit of doubt in his conspiracy. Aside from gold crowns, he had nothing else to prove that his reoccurring dream was indeed of fairies. He'd never seen their magic wands nor their fly-like wings, or anything outside of a parrots' guise. He had also never seen them wield magic, and every dream ended the same. They would fly to his ten-year-old rescue, and then his world would go black, sending him back to his forty-year-old reality.

Still, the fact that they were the same shade of pink and green as Timmy Turner's pink and green wristbands clung hope to the remaining faith that fairies did exist. He'd not personally seen any unexplainable phenomenon around Turner when wearing those wristbands, though Turner could just be good at hiding. Then again, he had seen those pink and green shades take on different shapes around Turner. A green pencil and pink eraser, green and pink squirrels. And while in those different shapes, the wristbands did not exist.

There's only one logical explanation…

Even without concrete evidence and his brain's vivid imagination as his primary proof, the green and pink that Turner possessed just had to be fairies. His fairies. Why else would he feel so drawn to them? He needed to find out for himself, and with just his base-level knowledge of how trackers should (and might) work, perfecting this detector was his sole drive to keep going.

Glancing over at his green parakeet and a pink galah perched at the bottom of their cage, he took his unfinished fairy detector with him, gleaming to show them his progress. "Carlos, Wilma, look!"

Carlos and Wilma responded with flaccid blinks.

"Still needs a bit of work, obviously, as it's still in its prototype stage. But I have faith that it will help me capture my long lost-" his muscles spasmed impromptu "-FAIRY GODPARENTS!"

His spasm irritated another throb to the side of his skull, rubbing it agitatedly before he looked back to Carlos and Wilma's immobile feathers. They stared with watering eyes, clicking their beaks as if parched. Furrowing his brow at their behavior, Mr. Crocker set his fairy detector on the work bench before he approached the water dispenser on their cage. Observation showed that both food and water dispensers appeared the same as they did when he refilled them the day before.

Jutting his lip in a sigh, he walked to a nearby drawer for a syringe. Retrieving it to then open the dispenser and fill the barrel with untouched water before he opened the door to their birdcage. Staring with Wilma, his careful hand aimed the tip of the syringe in her beak, stirring her from the sudden object nearby. Pushing the plunger to inject the water into her mouth, her tongue splashed with each spurt, some droplets dripping down her beak while others managed to make it down her throat.

With half a syringe left, he moved on to Carlos who, for some reason, tilted his head away. "C'mon Carlos…" Mr. Crocker coaxed, continuing to aim the syringe for a stubborn beak. "You need to drink something…"

Getting the right angle, Mr. Crocker managed to get the syringe close enough to spurt water into Carlos's beak, though most of it splashed on his chest feathers. Mr. Crocker's brows furrowed once more; why was he refusing water? And, more importantly, why were they not eating or drinking on their own? Carlos and Wilma were roughly between twelve and fourteen, barely on the cusp of elderly birds.

Carlos continued to tilt his head as far he could away from the syringe, and Mr. Crocker begrudgingly gave up. The cold front was beginning to lift (the cold rarely lasted long in Dimmsdale winters.) And yet, they seemed to be steadily deteriorating due to unknown origins.

With heedful fingers, Mr. Crocker brushed the green feathers on Carlos's head, causing Carlos to stretch his neck just to press his forehead against his caregiver's palm. Wilma attempted the same, extending her neck with great effort as Mr. Crocker's fingers brushed her pink feathers.

"Den…Denzel…" Carlos strained to squawk

"Love…Denzel…" Wilma croaked as well.

He appreciated their affectionate sentiment, yet the corners of his mouth bent downwards. How long had they been growing weaker, and how long had he not noticed? "…love you, too…" Denzel murmured somberly. He'll need to make an appointment with the vet soon.

He can't lose anyone again…

The biggest bang in the universe shocked his heart as a battering ram knocked the bedroom door off its henges, ruffling Carlos and Wilma's feathers in startled surprise. "Denzel!" Dolores exclaimed, trotting as she invited herself inside her son's personal space. "Have you seen the news?!"

"Good morning to you, too, mother…" Mr. Crocker mumbled sarcastically. Was 'rude awakening' even the right words for that unnecessary mini heart attack? He shushed Carlos and Wilma's squawks while shutting them inside their cage. "And why would I watch the news?"

"Those poor Dimmsdale children are still missing!"

Mr. Crocker paused, turning to face his mother. He'd been so out of the loop from the outside world, and now children in Dimmsdale are just randomly missing? "What Dimmsdale children?"

"Dimmsdale authorities are still on the search for the four Dimmsdale children who had seemingly disappeared without a trace early Wednesday morning." Chet Ubetcha began his next morning news segment, showing each child's school picture on the screen. "Those four children have been previously reported as twelve-year-old Gary Vladislapov, eleven-year-old Dwight Schlatter, eleven-year-old Molly DeLisle, and nine-year-old Hazel Wells."

A drawn-out yawn escaped the redhaired teen, reclined on the Turners' couch with her green socks propped up on the coffee table. So far, the Turners had been out for two hours, doing what they could to help Mrs. Turner's parents in their continued search for her nephew Gary. To ensure that the twerp wasn't home alone, Vicky was expected to be present right at 7:30. Waking up early on a Saturday was a total pain, but there was easy money to be made.

"Reports state that Gary Vladislapov and Dwight Schlatter had both been assaulted on the morning of Tuesday, January 7th." Chet continued with backstory. "The perpetrators are three minor suspects whom shall not be named due to their age, but Gary and Dwight were admitted at Dimmsdale Hospital where they were then found missing the next morning. As the investigation continues, medical staff and the hospital board of directors have yet to find answers to the boys' strange disappearance."

"Weird…" Vicky mumbled through another yawn. How the heck did four kids all go missing? All at the same time? That's some Houdini type shit.

As Chet blabbed on about kids disappearing like magic, her baggy eyes glanced upwards towards the stairs. She hadn't heard a peep from the twerp since she'd got there. He wasn't still asleep, was he? Eh, she wouldn't blame 'em. She'd still be catchin' some much needed Zs if it weren't for this monetary obligation.

She thought back to her conversation with Vic, about how hurt people hurt people. She also thought about Tootie wanting her to be nicer to the twerp. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, but choosing violence didn't seem appealing. It'd been such a trying week as it was; a chill day with no drama was so long overdue.

Subdued within the room void of artificial light, Timmy lay sprawled backwards atop his blue duvet. Somber eyes fixed on the ceiling with zero motivation to lift a finger, not even to hold a controller for video games.

Cosmo and Wanda had left an hour ago for their doctor's appointment in Fairy World, hoping to get some answers for Wanda's stomach pains (and other pains in general.) They'd offered for him to come with, and if he'd used his transporter, they could have poofed to the hospital from Fairy Fort. However, Timmy didn't want to inconvenience them. They could use a break from godparenting, even if small. As he expected, they weren't hearing him at first. That was, until he forced them to oblige in the form of a wish.

He would have liked to go with them, he just didn't want to bring them down with him. Dark thoughts had overtaken his mind since last night. So much so, that in the middle of the night, he'd snuck into his parents' room and into their on-suite for the sleeping pills that his mother kept in the medicine cabinet. Nights have been restless for him, and all he'd wanted was to sleep…for a very long time.

Had it not been for Sophia talking sense into him, he would have gone through with his impulsive plan. She knew how many pills he would have taken before even he was consciously aware, and she did not want him to be where she was. Not yet. Though…that begged the question poking the back of his mind with a pondering needle.

Did he truly want to die?

He'd always felt, and still felt, that he deserved to be dead instead of Sophia, but his ability to speak with Sophia in the afterlife made him doubt that he even understood the concept of death. Sure, when you die, in some sense, you're no longer physical. No one can physically touch you, or hit you. Or hug you. However, your spirit, or whatever you call it, either dies with your body or goes somewhere that is still a mystery to him.

Chester believed that your soul goes to either Heaven or Hell. Depending on how you live your life on Earth, whether you're good or evil. Tootie had once believed in some sort of paradise, an eternal place to live, but still on Earth. Before she abandoned all things religious, she didn't believe that people possess souls or spirits.

AJ had the belief that there is nothing after you die. That once your body dies, that's it. Game over. However, Sophia had simply described it as being in an alternate dimension; her body had died, but her soul continued to live in this other reality. It sounded okay but…he didn't know what to make of that. He didn't know if he deserved to keep living in some other reality or just…cease to exist.

[Stop thinking about dying, Timmy.]

Slow blinks broke his rabbit hole of thoughts, mono in his tone "…how do you know that's what I'm thinking about?"

[I'm basically a part of you, now.] Sophia pointed out. [You may be able to hide your thoughts from everyone else, but not from me.]

"…okay?" Timmy mumbled, glum eyes still towards the ceiling. "What if I can't help it?"

[…you're ten.]

"And you died at eight."

[Timmy…]

"I know, I'm sorry…" Timmy apologized to his sister's grouse; she hated when he'd resort to her untimely death as justification to ideate about it. Dragging a hand over one tired eye, he then chose to change the subject to what she was probably reaching out for "…still can't find Gary?"

[I've tried everything I can think of.] Sophia sounded defeated. [I can't sense him…]

Timmy sighed. Guess that confirms he's not on Earth. Inversely, if he was in Fairy World, Sophia wouldn't have this much trouble…

"…you don't think he…?"

[No, cuz I would still sense him...]

Good to know that Gary was still alive…in some sense of the word.

Inhaling a tense breath, Timmy exhaled his nerves. If he was honest, Timmy had become concerned for his cousin. First, Gary and Dwight get beaten into a hospital. Now Gary and his godkid friends disappear without a trace. All not even twenty-four hours after basically telling Gary to go screw him after his multiple attempts to reach out through Sophia.

Gary…guilty conscience pursed his lips…what happened to you…?

Timmy didn't have to look in the bedroom door's direction to hear it creek open, and he didn't have to look to know who had invaded his personal space. "…what do you want…" he muttered, half expecting a snarky response in return. Only when none came did he tilt his head to see Vicky leaned against the doorway with loosely-folded arms.

"…you hungry?"

"Um…" he paused quizzically. Her oddly normal, non-evil attitude nearly made him forget the original question "…n-no. Not right now."

"Kay." she shrugged coolly. If only Tootie was here; she'd be happy to see her show restraint from savagery. "Let me know when you are, then."

He watched her turn away, shutting the door behind her exit. Staring as he questioned what in the Twilight Zone was going on.

. . . . . .

"Also on Tuesday, January 7th, Molly DeLisle was admitted to Dimmsdale Hospital after it was reported that she'd been stabbed by her mother's boyfriend, Frank Abrahms." Chet continued as Tootie watched from the table booth of the camper, sitting across from Vic. Both dressed in their pajamas as Vic sipped his second cup of coffee. "Both Molly's mother, Marissa DeLisle, and Frank Abrahms are set for a court hearing within the week, and they are looking at between 15-30 years of prison if they plead guilty to all of their charges which include 1st degree child abuse, 1st degree domestic violence, and 2nd degree attempted murder."

Tootie wrung the wrist of her teal bracelet. She recognized Molly's picture from Wall 2 Wall Mart, remembering seeing such writhing rage in the mom's eyes. A rage that was all too familiar, felt all too real.

"What a crock of bull…"

Vic's grumble made Tootie glance in his direction.

"Those guys deserve to rot in those cells, but…" he lifted his mug for another sip "…the justice system in this town ain't never made no sense."

After totaling over two days of court, the judge had found Nicky Byrne guilty of misdemeanor child abuse (due to her part in enabling Jim's behavior and doing little to protect her daughters.) Nicky had sentenced her to a year in county jail with three years of probation to follow. Jim Byrne, the main committer of the crime, had been found guilty of felony child abuse. Jim received the maximum sentence…six years in county jail.

The prosecution was not exactly pleased with this verdict, nor did they like that Dimmsdale's max for lifetime trauma guaranteed was abysmally low. Vic was at least glad that the jury had always been on their side, with or without the defendants' testimony.

At the court hearing following the child abuse trial, because Vicky was knocking on seventeen, she was perfectly fine with Vic having permanent guardianship until she was of legal age. As for Tootie, her new birth certificate with Vic as her legal father should come within the month.

Jim and Nicky had officially been stripped of their parental rights, And, if they so choose, Vicky and Tootie would never have to see the likes of those bastards ever again.

Tootie turned back to Frank's and Marissa's sullen mug shots on the screen, Chet's words drowning behind buzzing thoughts. Why didn't Molly's godmother intervene and stop Frank from stabbing Molly if Rose could intervene and stop her dad from beating her to death?

Without warning, a turquoise glower flashed across her eyes, freezing her mouth in a chilling gasp. Flickering images of fists striking like hail iced deep in her bones.

Hearing her shuddered breath, Vic lowered his mug atop the table with grave concern facing Tootie's direction "…Tootie?"

Another flash whipped a biting switch close to her cheek. Stiff arms flinched reflexively from the stinging swats that were invisible to everyone but her. Her godmother's call and Vic's calls of her name came muddled in her mind, her purple eyes growing blank with terror. Color drained from her cheeks, and faint tremors shook in her pupils.

"He's not here, Tootie…" Vic stood from his seat to kneel before her, placing soft hands onto knees quaking lightly. "You're not there…" he tried to reach her "…you're in the camper, and you're safe."

Blank eyes continued to stare through him, and he kept calling to her softly, coaxing her to come back. Fearing where she'd gone so many times ever since the trial. Vic had already gotten multiple calls from her teacher, Ms. Modell, out of concern for these episodes. One minute, Tootie was attentive in class, and the next, she would start shaking with distant eyes at her desk.

Vic continued to bushed gentle strokes along Tootie's knee, reassuring that what she was feeling wasn't happening in real life. Patient persistence waited until fluttering eyes finally met his tender gaze, giving a small grin to her sniveling lip. "There you are…"

Dismay stared back at him as turned around to Chet continuing with details of another child's abuse. Thinking the news might have been a trigger, he then reached for the remote near her, shutting off the TV before he turned back to her sniffing whimpers.

Vic cupped her shivering cheeks with tender palms, her troubled eyes watering. While Tootie would never have to see Jim again, unfortunately, that didn't save her from seeing him in haunting memories. The trial must have flipped a switch in her mind, sparking an onslaught of vivid flashbacks. He and Vicky can only do but so much. If he could make more money, he could get her the help she desperately needed...

"You're alright, Tootie…" he drew his adopted daughter into a fatherly hug, and the shivers from head to toe immediately coiled into his chest. "You're safe…"

Off to the side of the country club's grand central staircase, Remy sourly leaned against the stair's stinger with his purple watch cuffed around his right wrist. He'd fully recovered from his illness, just to be subjected to more asinine money puns and superfluous mingling from Dimmsdale's upper-middle class and the one percent.

His sole reason for making an appearance was in anticipation of seeing Hazel for the first time since the Christmas dinner. He'd been itching for insight on how things were fairing with Fenwick, perhaps out of false hope that the Wells would wise up and do what the Buxaplentys failed to; report a predator.

On the contrary, because he'd assumed that Fenwick had no interest in little girls, he hadn't given Hazel much to go on. He hadn't told Hazel just how dangerous Fenwick was. Now she'd gone missing without a trace, and regret tugged at his heart…

Maybe he should have listened to Juandissimo when he'd suggested to tell Hazel the truth. What if Fenwick did do something to her? Could he have prevented it somehow?

"W-We just don't understand how this could happen!" Angela cried to the Buxaplentys. Her husband had gone off with other club members, in no mood to deal with his wife's dramatics. "Hazel had such a wonderful life! Where could she have gone!?"

Remy shook his head at her delusion. Based solely off the little information he'd gathered about Hazel, her life was not as 'wonderful' as her mother claimed. Plus, the Wells actively chose to bring their remaining children in attendance to club gathering while their daughter was missing. What does that say about them?

"We're so sorry for what you're going through right now." Diana strained concern in her features, holding Angela's hand.

"We have faith that you will find her." Orville offered, though Remy could hear the forced sympathy in his father's words.

"I wouldn't bat an eye if she stayed gone." Remy then turned the group of affluent girls some feet away, overhearing Hillary's snarky opinion to Trixie and Veronica. "The only reason father hired all these investigators is because mumsy practically begged him to. Father knows that it's all a giant waste, and everyone but mumsy can see that."

While Veronica didn't seem bothered, Remy was somewhat surprised to see Trixie's frown at Hillary's blatant disregard towards her own sister.

"…are you not upset that your little sister's been missing for four days?"

"She's not my sister." Hillary scoffed to Trixie. "And even if she was, little sisters are so annoying."

"Totally." Veronica looked briefly through the crowd of club members at her little sister Valarie. A brat who'd just turned five, still attached to their mother's hip like the big baby she is. "They're just a total waste of space."

"Agreed." Hillary shortly giggled, hand on the cocked hip of her Christian Dior plaid skirt.

Trixie deepened her frown, disgusted at their behavior. "I can't believe you two..."

"Of course, you wouldn't understand." Hillary haughtily remarked. "You're an only child."

Trixie huffed, diverting her puckered brow away from the rude reminder. Of course, they wouldn't understand. They didn't have to lose themselves in magazines and fashion to distract from overthinking, or strive for popularity to counteract coming home to an empty house…

Standing near the staircase, the Griffin stepbrothers observed Anthony's reserve. Occupying the bottom step with a sullen downward stare, arms linked across his chest.

"Dude, you good?" Chad probed to the boy who hadn't said a word since he'd arrived. "You seem tense."

"Just a bad mood…" Anthony's tight throat grumbled an excuse, avoiding their observant gaze.

Tad inched closer to the fellow blonde. He knew teenagers can be moody, but this seemed like there was more to it "…is it about your sister?"

Snarling his nose, Anthony flashed a glare. "How about it's none of your fucking business!"

Remy took a gander in the direction of Anthony's eruption.

"Whoa, we're jus' askin'!" Chad raised hands in defense.

"Yeah!" Tad too did not take kindly to getting cursed at unprovoked. "The heck got into you!?"

Lucky that no adults were within earshot, all surrounding eyes looked in Anthony's direction. Seeing his sister perturbed in her gaze as the popular girls' quiet stares questioned what his deal was. Agitated with himself, Anthony muttered a curse under his breath, shooting from the stairs in the opposite direction of the foyer. Oblivious to Remy's vigilant stare as he zoomed passed in his trek down the hall.

Barging into the nearest men's restroom, Anthony flared his nostrils with each constricted breath. His breathing difficulty increased as shaky fingers ran through his blonde spike, pacing near the door. "Calm down…" he muttered to himself, tugging the collar of his Christian Dior sweater to release radiance of nervous heat. "Just calm the fuck down…"

"What do you call something that quacks like a duck?"

Unsteady footing led him to the Swiss Madison sink, supporting himself with hands gripped to the onyx countertop. Glaring into the reflection of draining color in troubled features as the nanny's words echoed in his head.

"If you look guilty and act guilty…guess what that makes you."

But what if the police find Hazel and they do a medical evaluation? What if the evaluation finds proof that someone took advantage of her? If they take DNA sample…shit. He'll go down, for sure.

Haunted eyes jerked to the opening of the bathroom door, spotting the mint-green stare fixed on him as he entered. Creasing his brow before he faced away back at his reflection. Blue eyes caught a sideways glimpse of the young billionaire turning the faucet to the Swiss Madison sink beside his, pumping hand soap into unsoiled palms.

Facing his side of the wall-mounted glass mirror, Remy snuck a side glance at the faintest tremble in Anthony's fingers along the counter. Rubbing his hands below running water before he switched off the faucet. As he shook his hands dry, his attentive stare acknowledged Anthony's tense brow through the mirror.

Remy knew that look all too well. A look of surmounting shame concealed within a vault of secrets. Looks like Anthony was Fenwick's puppet now. Quite unfortunate, but that was not his biggest concern.

"…do you know what happened to Hazel?"

Anthony crinkled his brow at Remy studying him intensively. He had notice how Hazel would gravitate towards the Buxaplenty heir, so that explained his enquiry on her absence. Still…what about him gave the impression that he knew where Hazel disappeared to? He had nothing to do with that…

"Nope." Anthony mumbled stiffly, backing from the sink. "No clue."

Remy's stare remained stoic to Anthony's purposeful bump against his shoulder before Anthony paced out of the bathroom under Remy's watchful eye.

Winter's wind swayed platinum blonde hair poking through the hood of her lavender parka. Accompanied by her indigo necklace as she stepped onto the front porch of the two-story home.

In her first Saturday of ungrounded freedom, her father had given Chloe permission to spend time at Elmer's house. Elmer had invited her over, and she wanted to make an effort in being a better friend to him, especially in his time of need. Of course, the only reason she'd been given permission was because her mother was currently in Brightsburg staying with Chloe's maternal grandmother. Wounds of the being served divorce papers were still fresh, and Connie couldn't stand to stay where she no longer felt welcomed.

On top of the impending divorce, Clark was fighting for full custody. And, you guessed it, Connie did not take this lying down. The Carmichaels didn't have to be in the same house for arguments to ensue. Bitter back and forths had become Chloe's every day; dysfunctional chaos roiled her life on the brink of insanity. However, she was not one to disclose that to anyone outside of those directly affected. Years of love soiled into hatred for the other…all because of her. What reason did she have to complain? Being a whiney brat never solved anything.

Stepping onto the welcome mat, Chloe rang the doorbell to the dark-wood door. Waiting with wrapped arms protecting her shoulders from the chilling breeze before the door opened to rounded lavender frames around olive eyes, one cheek blemished with a boil like her son.

"Hi, Chloe…" Dee wiped tears under her glasses.

"Hello, Mrs. Baker." Chloe mustered a cordial greeting. "Are you okay?"

"It's been tough the last few days…" Dee admitted after a sniff. "My husband is currently out with Dwight's fathers doing what they can to search for him."

"I can imagine…I'm so sorry…" Chloe offered her condolences for what little that could do.

"Thank you, sweetheart…" Dee appreciated the sentiment, stepping aside to permit entry into the home. "Here. Come in."

Cleaning her boots on the welcome mat, Chloe stepped inside as Dee closed the front door. Dee offered her to discard her parka to hang on the rack of other winter coats which Chloe accepted, and after she'd been given instructions on how to navigate to Elmer's room, Chloe kindly thanked her before she ventured up the stairs towards the first door to the left.

Even from just standing outside of the room, Chloe caught snippets of sniffles from distress. Was she ready to handle this? Her hesitation stalled her from raising her knuckles to knock on the door, announcing her anticipated arrival.

"Come in!" she heard Sanjay's shrill voice from behind the door. She then twisted the knob and opened the door to a splash of yellow and black.

Compassion struck her heart at the sight of Elmer's buried face hidden in grieving palms as Sanjay massaged comforting circles in his lower back. Elmer's shoulders shook in sobs. She knew that Dwight's disappearance would have some affect, but not to this degree…

"Do not worry, Elmer…" Sanjay attempted to offer his optimism, the optimism that even he felt lacking. "They will find Dwight…"

"It's been four days, Sanjay!" Elmer lifted his tear-stained face to Sanjay. "Four days with no leads or any trace of him!"

A groan escaped, clawing at the sides of his head. Chloe and Sanjay frowned in sympathy.

"…i-it's like my brother just vanished off the face of the Earth…"

That last phrase sparked a theory in narrowed eyes. Though she hadn't been back in a while, Chloe remembered Timmy saying something about how other godkids had wished for Fairy Fort. There'd been so many Terry Totter references in that castle, references that only another Terry Totter fanatic would catch. Consequently, when you consider how Dwight is godchild who is also a Terry Totter fan, perhaps that explained where he was.

From what had seen reported on the news throughout the week, Chet Ubetcha did mention three other kids that disappeared at the same time as Dwight. Did Dwight have friends outside of other godchildren? Chloe didn't think so. In that case, these other kids who'd gone missing had be godchildren as well. Perhaps even the godchildren to wish Fairy Fort into existence.

If so, then they had the means of transporting to and from Fairy World. Why had they not come back? Could it be that…they didn't want to be found? Why would they not want to be found?

"…Chloe?"

Her eyes fluttered from Sanjay's call to her. "…y-yes?"

"…you were being a space cadet again."

"…oh…." Humiliation hung Chloe's head. Sanjay was right; Elmer needed his friends. This was not the time for senseless daydreaming. "I'm sorry."

She took the empty space on the bed beside Elmer, feeling useless to his sniffling cries. Elmer's brother disappeared with no explanation. She wished she knew what to say in this situation, yet words escaped her.

A diffident hand touched Elmer's shoulder in an attempt to give condolence. She herself could still see those horrific convulsions, the choking gargles, the lack of oxygen reddening his face. If she could reach for any positive to this situation, maybe Dwight still had Irving. In the very least, he wasn't alone and had someone to aid with his seizures.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do to ease Elmer's pain. The only thing within her power was to hope that wherever Dwight was, he was okay. Not just for Elmer's sake, but for her own.

AN: Tbh, this story has veered so far off from my original outline, at this point, I'm writing as I go. I do like this direction, so that's a plus.

Just curious; would you guys wanna see a final installment to this series? The kids would be aged up into tweens/teens essentially growing up, building relationships, and possibly growing out of their godparents, but that's as far as I got. I'm asking because it'll determine whether the ending of this fic is more resolute or not.