Broken Child

by Metala Kahame

After a tragic accident befalls Timmy when left in Cosmo's care, he starts to doubt his abilities as a god father. As Timmy's condition worsens he resolves to do all he can to make his godchild better. Meanwhile Wanda's growing attachment to Timmy is starting to raise some suspicions that she has forgotten the number one rule of godparenting; don't get too attached!

42. Chapter 42: Festivities Part 2

Chapter 42: Festivities Part 2

— Timmy's POV—

He awoke to the sensation of a hand softly caressing his back and the melody of a slightly off-tune lullaby. He lay curled on his side, his head resting on a pillow in Wanda's lap. She had apparently decided to take on the taller form she had taken during the tea party, likely to make it easier for her to accommodate the weight of him sleeping on her for an extended duration. He had no idea how long he had ended up sleeping, but he had a feeling it had been a bit too long to be accurately referred to as a nap.

His body felt so weary, as if he were a toy with a broken battery. Even after being charged for hours, he remained at a mere 3%. He felt as exhausted as if he had spent hours running around, engaging in extreme stunt wishes. However, in reality, he had only been sitting, eating, chatting, and enjoying various shows. This realization brought a tinge of sadness, but it was quickly overshadowed by the efforts Nova had made to ensure he had fun despite his ill health. Additionally, Wanda's love and care filled him with happiness. Occasionally, he sensed her gently shifting her legs, trying not to disturb him. He imagined her legs must be getting numb from supporting him for so long. Nonetheless, she did not try to move him.

Wanda was the only person like this in his life. While others would quickly dismiss him as soon as he became a burden, she always took the time to consider ways to ensure he never felt like an inconvenience.

In this situation, for example, she had the ability to use her magic to carefully change his position without waking him up. She didn't have to endure numb legs or use her magic to make herself taller, but she did anyway. From her perspective, it might have seemed like a small gesture, something she didn't expect him to even notice. However, for him, a child used to being disregarded whenever he became the slightest bit inconvenient, even the smallest act of self-sacrifice meant a great deal.

Lazily, he peered out at the garden before him, feeling a bit like a spoiled kitten. Wanda continued to soothe him by rubbing his back in a circular motion, just as she would for Poof when he had trouble falling asleep. The pavilion had descended from its elevated position, now transformed into a glamorous VIP lounge with vibrant Mardi Gras decorations. Surrounding them, a lively festival awaited its cue to burst into life, with holographic performers, food stalls, and dancers all frozen in place, waiting for the party to begin.

At first, the sight of the night sky filled him with alarm, fearing he had overslept and missed his next treatment. But he quickly reassured himself that Wanda, Grandpa Nova, and Piper would never allow that to happen. It seemed plausible that if Queen Mab could manipulate the time of day in one part of the sky, then the Fey could easily create the illusion of nighttime during the day.

He allowed himself to relax an awhile longer, choosing not to reveal to Wanda that he was awake, desiring to extend the comforting feeling of her pampering. He closed his eyes in contentment. This feeling was familiar, reminiscent of a distant memory from his toddler years. Was it the mumps or measles? The details were hazy, but the emotions were clear: he had felt ill and frightened, and had left his bed to snuggle next to his mother on the couch. Initially, his parents insisted he return to his room, but as he clung to his mother, she relented, allowing him to rest in her lap while she gently stroked his back until he drifted off to sleep.

That moment, the earliest memory of affection he could recall, had always been something he longed to relive but never did. As he grew older, he gradually abandoned hope, believing he was too old for such coddling. He berated himself for even wanting it, considering it immature and self-centered. He thought that if he ever mentioned this desire, he would be berated as a selfish child, using his illness to monopolize others' time and focus. After all, everyone called him a selfish child, so he believed this longing was just another example of his rotten nature. However, unexpectedly, he now found himself being pampered and coddled, just like in that one solitary incident in his toddler years. He hadn't even asked for it. And in that moment, he realized why he had longed to relive it. It wasn't because he selfishly sought to be the center of someone's attention. It was because it brought him comfort and a sense of being loved and cherished.

That was why he loved to play the baby game so much; not just because it gave his mind and heart a break from his troubles, but because it left him feeling loved and cared for in a way he had not thought possible in his older age, but being babied, even as a twelve year old, felt nice…

"My sleepy lil' angel... aww, he looks so precious, my poor sweet boy, mama loves ya soooo much." Wanda cooed softly and playfully. Although her voice had a peculiar tone, it exuded happiness and affection, prompting him to smile and continue feigning sleep. He held the strongest of love and trust for Wanda, yet a part of him, perhaps shaped by past experiences, harbored doubts about the sincerity of anyone's proclamation of affection towards him, despite his deep desire to believe it.

Even with Wanda, sometimes his mind would insidiously suggest 'she loves you only because it's her job,' or 'she feels like she has to love you because no one else does,' 'you scared her into loving you.' These cruel thoughts often tormented him, but whenever they overwhelmed him or he faced a particularly rough day that left him feeling unworthy of anyone's love, Wanda would prepare her special hot chocolate, which soothed him and restored his faith that even someone like him could be loved.

Still, to hear her dote on him, to refer to herself as his mother, to call him—an angel of all things—and to say she loves him, while she was alone, believing he was asleep and not listening, was so comforting that it made him tear up.

He, Timmy Turner, was actually loved by someone. Trying to be discreet he wiped at a tear that escaped from his closed eyelids. No one would probably ever love him as much as Wanda did, and he hoped that, even when the memory of her was inevitably taken from him, that he'd still be able to remember this feeling of being loved by someone so much.

He lingered in her lap for a while longer, until her caresses on his back turned ticklish, coaxing him awake without resorting to shaking him. She must've taken notice that he was awake, probably his attempt at being discreet while wiping away his tears, having utterly failed, but she did not appear upset. Rather, her prodding touches were quite playful.

In a playful mood himself, he continued to feign sleep, curious about her next move. She toyed with his short ponytail, brushing the ends against his chin and then his nose, which elicited a giggle from him. Scratching his tickled nose, he rolled over to smile at Wanda. Her knowing smirk betrayed her awareness of his act. Her cheeks glowed pink as she held a cocktail glass with a reddish beverage adorned with cherry garnishes in one hand. She looked like she had stepped right out of one of the detective film noirs he enjoyed watching. He could almost envision one of the hard-boiled detectives from those shows entering a speakeasy to question one of the dancers, only to be met with an elegant and strong-willed femme fatale that refused to yield to neither his questioning nor his charms. That is what Wanda looked like to him. When she questioned him about why he was staring at her with such a big grin, he responded truthfully. She burst into laughter, protesting several times and brushing it off as him still being half asleep or attributing his favorable impression of her to the dim lighting. Finally, when she stopped deflecting his compliment, she retained a silly grin and her cheeks became a tad pinker than before.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, stretching and yawning, hoping to get himself into a more awake state, excited to see what Nova had in store for them next.

"How ya feelin', sugar? Did your nap help ya get your strength back?" She fussed over him, using her hand to smooth out his disheveled hair as he tiredly rubbed his eyes. "The party's waitin' on you, darlin', but you take all the time ya need 'fore we get back into things."

"Hmm-mm." He nodded; his energy levels had improved, and he was no longer tired, but he remained physically weak, his stamina low, too low to do much more than sit around, but fortunately this entire party had been a seated affair so he had enough energy to be able to enjoy what was likely planned for the finale. "I'll be ready to start having a Mardi Gras bash—" He yawned. "—In a few minutes."

"Well, that's mighty good t' hear! I'm so glad t' see ya enjoyin' y'self so much. Ya really needed some time t' just be happy and f'rget 'bout all the bad stuff."

He giggled, unable to help himself. She had been talking like that since he had woken up; was this her attempt at trying to add to an authentic atmosphere? Wanda, she was always going the extra mile for him…

"That southern accent really makes it feel like we're in New Orleans! Let me try to do it too!" He cleared his throat and attempted to speak in a southern drawl. "It looks like a jolly big party is about to go down. Think we're in for a smashing good time?"

Wanda snorted, laughing into her drink. "Well, sweetie, that there was British."

"Oops." He chuckled, sticking his tongue out playfully, then started as he noticed that there was someone standing behind Wanda. He had not noticed him before, because he stood in the shadows and neither spoke a word nor moved an inch. It was a tall man, with a muscular physique sculpted like a Greek statue. His long, flowing hair cascaded down to his broad shoulders, a glossy black that shimmered in the light. His dark complexion was smooth and flawless, adding to his striking presence. He was decked out in an elaborate Mardi Gras costume, in a riot of vibrant colors. The thousands of sequins in his outfit sparkled like diamonds in the soft lamplight inside of their VIP lounge. He wore a richly decorated mask that covered the upper half of his face, adorned with feathers and intricate patterns that added to the air of mystery. He stood motionless, a tray balanced effortlessly in one hand and a menu in the other, the epitome of grace and elegance. Wanda caught him looking, and with a wide grin, ran her hand over the man's biceps. His form flickered for a few moments, revealing himself to be just another creation of Fey magic.

"Hologram, darlin'; he's my own personal server." She almost sounded like she was bragging. "I just point at a drink from the menu, and it appears. I've been callin' him Manuel. Don't it seem to suit him? What do you think? Ain't he a cutie?"

"…Not my type." He smirked and raised a brow at her. "Doesn't he look a tad too much like a taller, human version of Juandissimo?"

She retaliated to his observation by playfully messing up his hair, which she had just fixed, and then placed the fedora he had been wearing before his nap back atop of his head, lopsided.

"Wanda, what's that you're drinking?" He questioned, eyeing the glass suspiciously as he repositioned his hat after raking his fingers through his hair to tidy it. At first he had thought it was just juice in a fancy glass so that it would look like the real thing, but…was it actually really the real thing…?

"Oh, this here's a cocktail called the La Louisiane, darlin'!" Wanda took the little stick out of the drink that had about three cherries speared on it and took one of them off, popping it into her mouth.

"…You had a lot of them?"

"I've been goin' down the menu tryin' all of them! I'm 'bout a little less than half done, but heck, when am I gonna get a chance to lounge 'bout enjoyin' some cocktails? Let alone free ones!" She laughed jovially. "And, well, ya know, everythin' here's got next to no calories or fat or any of them there bad stuff in it, so why not?" Giggling, she slipped another cherry off of the stick, oblivious to the very real fact that she was currently drunk.

He turned away, putting a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter; apparently the Fey did not consider alcoholic content, or its effects as part of the 'bad stuff'.

"I-Is it good?" It was with his best effort that he kept a straight face as he watched her take a long sip of it. He was not disappointed in her for getting drunk. It was actually making him happy to see her so relaxed and at ease.

He knew that he had been making things very hard for her lately, with all his problems at school, at home, at—well, everywhere. She was always worrying about him. Every day, so much of her time went into lifting his spirits; to seeing to his happiness, his needs and easing as much of his sorrows and anxiety as she could. He needed this from her, without it, he felt like he wouldn't have the strength to withstand everything, but at the same time he felt guilt that all her efforts lately went to bringing him as much happiness as she could, without seeing to her own. That's why seeing her having a good time and enjoying herself pleased him. She needed to be able to let loose once in a while and just have a good time.

"Mmm, it's just delicious! Here, take a cherry, darlin'." She held the cherry out to him and he hesitated a moment. He could almost envision an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder; the angel telling him that Wanda wasn't in her right mind and that she wouldn't want him to take something that had been floating around in alcohol, while the devil insisted he try it 'when are you going to get permission for something like this again?' 'It's a party after all, all in good fun!'….

The devil won the debate without too much effort on the angel's part.

He popped it into his mouth; and…couldn't help but pull a disappointed face, for it still tasted like a regular Moschino cherry.

"Awww, don't ya like cherries?" She pinched his cheek with a laugh, her eyes twinkling. "I declare, you're just the cutest little bugger!"

"You fooled me." He chuckled, blushing.

"You little human babies always wantin' to try the things forbidden to you…it's just so adorable." Wanda pulled him close to her. In her usual form, they were roughly the same height, but like this, she was far taller than he was, his head not reaching past her chest. It made him feel small—and in most cases, when he felt small, he felt frustrated, but with her—he felt safe. It made him believe that she could protect him from all the pain and sadness in the world, even though he knew she couldn't.

"Dear young gentleman, we want to assure you that you have not been forgotten; As a starting point, we suggest savoring our Mardi Gras blend, a medium-dark roast coffee known for its exquisite cocoa and caramel notes. We've crafted it with generous portions of cream and sugar, tailored to suit a child's palate." Nova's voice spoke from the record and on the coffee table in front of him appeared a cup of coffee, but his attention was more caught by the hologram of his 'personal server,' that appeared at his side.

She donned a daring Mardi Gras ensemble, the vibrant colors and intricate beadwork accentuating every curve of her figure, leaving little to the imagination. The low-cut bodice was adorned with vibrant feathers. Her cascading ebony tresses fell like a sheet of silk against her flawless, alabaster complexion, catching the light in a mesmerizing sheen. Icy blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes peered out from behind a delicate jeweled mask. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, for she bore an uncanny resemblance to Trixie Tang, save for one conspicuous distinction that ignited a fiery warmth within him.

"Well, well!" Wanda looked almost smug, likely ready to get back at him over his remarks about 'Manuel' looking like Juandissimo. "It seems like yer server looks like Trixie, but with... certain enlargements." She smirked and pinched his cheek. "You naughty little antechinus!"

He made a whine in protest as her inebriated state caused her to pinch his cheek with far more force than she had likely intended to use, not that she noticed. He peeked at the hologram of his sever shyly. She was a few years older and, as Wanda had pointed out, had a more mature figure but was otherwise a carbon copy of Trixie Tang; in fact, if Trixie had an older sister, this would probably be what she looked like.

He shuffled his feet shyly, his face probably looking red due to Wanda's powerful pinch. "…I'm going to call her Beatrix…"

Recently, he had discovered that Beatrix was Trixie's actual name. For all these years, he had been infatuated with her without even realizing that 'Trixie' was just a nickname. Since learning this detail, he had wanted to greet her at least once by her given name. However, before he could utter a syllable of her full name, she had her followers beat him up for the offense. Nonetheless, he could refer to this non-Trixie as Beatrix as much as he wanted. He could even use the pet name "Bea," just like Tad did after he and Trixie started dating. The wound of their relationship was still fresh for him, but he found solace in the fact that less than 10% of middle school romances actually lasted.

"Well, stop oglin' yer server and drink the coffee, sweetie." Wanda nudged him and he giggled, embarrassed, as he picked up the cup. It smelled heavenly, but he had never drank coffee before. He had once tried a sip of his dad's because it smelled so good, but it had tasted horrible. He took a cautious sip, and then immediately took a bigger gulp.

"Mmm!"

You like it? Not too bitter, sugah?" Wanda asked, concerned, but judging from how her speech was beginning to slur a bit more than it was earlier, he wondered if he ought not to offer some of the coffee to her.

"There is a bitterness, but it's balanced out well with the sweet; not at all like how my dad makes it; his was super bitter and really, really salty!"

"Salty?" Wanda crinkled her nose, looking confused, and then rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. "Lordy, knowing your dad, he probably cain't tell the sugar apart from the salt!"

"Actually, I think it's Mom who makes Dad's coffee in the morning, but then….she gets walnuts mixed up with lug nuts…."

"True…" Wanda used her free hand to massage her temple. "Oh, bless your heart, I know you hate takin' your medicine, but 'cause you got your diagnoses and you're gettin' treated while you're young—you won't end up with mush for brains like your parents did. I dunno what condition they had, but clearly it went untreated and just rotted away their entire brain." She put an arm around him, cuddling him. "I'll work real hard with you and make sure you grow up to be a big, beautiful sunflower, not a weed like them dandelions you had the misfortune of bein' born to."

He had to will a straight face; to be perfectly honest, he did not like his condition being brought up randomly in conversations and, even though he knew his parents weren't actually 'good people', he did not actually like to hear them being insulted—poking fun at them was fine, but outright demeaning them wasn't something he would normally allow from anybody, but…

He did not have the heart to get mad at Wanda, furthermore he understood that right now she wasn't in her normal frame of mind, so he decided he'd just let whatever she said slide with no hard feelings. She was doing everything for him that his parents should have but did not, and was the only support he had since his ADHD diagnoses, so if she was harboring ill feelings towards his parents it was perfectly understandable and if she felt like lashing out at them for dumping all of their responsibility for his wellbeing onto her, then that was also justifiable.

…But it still made him feel a little sad, though he did not really understand why.

His mind raced with how to switch the topic and steer the conversation away from anything distressful. He wanted to get back to just enjoying things again. Looking at the drink Wanda was sipping on, an idea popped into his head. "I did not know you enjoyed drinking, Wanda," he said, his first clear thought finding its way out of his mouth. It was only after the sentence left his lips that he realized the millions of ways it could have been misunderstood. Fortunately, her response was to laugh.

"Sweetie, lemme tell ya, I got Italian blood on one side and French on the other! 'Course I like drinkin'! When ya get—" She paused for a moment in obvious consideration before continuing, "For yer sweet sixteen, darlin', I'll invite ya to a Fairywinkle dinner party, and you'll see just how much my family likes to wine and dine!"

"Sixteen?" He rose his brows, surprised. "But the legal age is—-"

"I'm about 99.9% certain that yer goin' to be sneakin' tastes by then anyway, especially with Cosmo 'round!" She snorted and held her glass out to him. "I bet you'd sneak a taste now if you were offered it."

He eyed the glass that she held out a little closer to him; she was testing him, wasn't she?

"C'mon, c'mon! You know you waaaant it." She giggled as she kept putting the glass closer to him until she had it practically to his lips.

'She's not just a tipsy….she's really drunk,' he thought, and seeing no way out of her insistence, braced himself and took a sip.

"Lawdy, look at you, holdin' it down like a real pro! I thought you'd start coughin' and sputterin' for sure!" She looked surprised and impressed, but he blinked, confused, eyeing the glass. It certainly contained a substance that smelled and looked like a cocktail, but…

"It…. was water?"

"We have indeed entertained this possibility. Nonetheless, I must firmly state that underage drinking is strictly prohibited. It is our utmost priority to safeguard the well-being of young individuals like yourself, which is why we insist on refraining from consuming such substances. Instead, we kindly urge you to partake in the delightful mocktails that are available. If you make any attempt to consume alcoholic substances, they will instantaneously transform into water upon contact with your lips." Nova's voice came from the record player, chidingly. "Additionally, my dear Wanda, although it is acceptable to be indulgent occasionally, there are specific matters that you should avoid granting approval to."

The wording of this warning was done in such a way that it would imply that he had pleaded with Wanda for a taste until she had reluctantly given in—which made sense if all these messages were pre-recorded; he doubted that Nova had ever considered the possibility of Wanda getting drunk and insisting on him taking a taste.

"Well, oopsie, sugar, looks like we done got ourselves a scoldin'." Wanda put her hand to her mouth, giggling like a mischievous child. He shook his head at her, laughing himself at how uncharacteristic she was behaving. He loved her best when she acted like herself, but it was lots of fun seeing other sides to her as well.

It was really cute and funny how she kept doing that southern accent thing; he did not have the heart to tell her though that—she sounded a bit like Anti-Wanda when she spoke like that.

— Nova POV —

He stretched his arms, feeling satisfied with the work he had done. He had made a two-hour movie based on the short story they had read together down in the underwater café. Making movies was his favorite hobby, and with Fey magic, it was easy to make a film with no need for actors or equipment; all you had to do was let the magic and your creativity mix and whatever story you could imagine would come into existence; the only limitation being your own imagination.

The version of "The Color Out of Space" that he had created, of course, differed from the book. He wanted Wanda and Timmy to enjoy seeing themselves inserted into the story, but he couldn't bear to have them die like the characters in the original. So, he made a few tweaks. He hoped they would have fun with it and he really wanted to share his interest in movie making with the lad. He looked forward to spending quality time with Timmy, walking him through the process of using the 'generate' option on the television to make his own films and shows. Anything the boy made would be a fantastic addition to their infinite list of customized movies. Maybe they could even create a few together? That would truly be a delightful experience; one of the many family-like activities he had been hopelessly dreaming of believing it impossible in the realm of reality..

"I do hope they are enjoying the party I made for them…" He mused to himself, he hadn't been checking the habitat channel because he had been so engrossed in his filmmaking, though he did plan to check the recording of it later, to see how they had reacted to his efforts; he'd adjust whatever wasn't satisfactory, and make a note of everything they enjoyed so that he could keep on pleasing them, eroding their reluctance and eventually removing all resistance to joining their world by having them indulge on all the endless wonders they could enjoy by remaining here; the very best of which was that as Fey and Kinder, they'd never have to be apart.

Wanda was as stubborn as a mule, just as Stella had written him. But mules could be domesticated. He'd wear her down by making her realize on her own how much happier they'd be here. How being here meant—they'd never have to say goodbye to each other.

He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of the guestroom, at the Enchanted Toadstool. It seemed he had taken much longer than expected to make the film. Gin must have been wondering why he was making such extensive use of his upstairs lodging. His hangover had cleared up long ago. Most people did not stay in these rooms for much longer than it took to sober up and shower. Perhaps he was making the poor fellow worried. He knew he could have gone back to his own rooms to work on the film, but perhaps he was still feeling ashamed of himself for his behavior and wanted to wait a while longer before showing his face to Piper. Indulging in his own fit of jealousy instead of being a comforting presence to his friend had been nothing short of pathetic. He also felt guilty over the anger and envy he had felt towards Wanda and Timmy—he really wished he had been mature enough just to have felt happy for them—for he truly did want them happy. He hoped his surprise for them had made them happy.

Filled with curiosity, he wondered how they had reacted to his party. He was eager to witness their enjoyment of the carefully arranged entertainment. However, he knew that giving in to the temptation of watching would make it impossible for him to tear himself away. With a strong sense of responsibility, he reminded himself of his duties as a veterinarian. He resolved not to neglect them, even though he was tempted to do so. The day had already been half used up without him seeing to any of his usual tasks. First, he needed to take his daily walk in the forest and ensure there were no poisonous mushrooms. He also had to make sure none of the Companions were in need of his help. Although it was a self-appointed duty, he refused to become lax in his commitment.

Descending the stairs, he wrinkled his nose in displeasure at the scene that greeted him. A shabbily dressed young Fey woman, with an unkempt appearance, rocking a misshapen bundle in her arms, sat like a blight at a corner table, the absence of the other patrons was notable, as it was not uncommon for Siofra and Finch to still be present at this time of day; though the mere presence of Bubbles was enough to drive others away. Even the most sociable person would seek solitude rather than her company.

Gin, too, despised the woman, but his sense of professionalism when behind the bar would never have one guess at this fact. The man wouldn't even backtalk a 'patron' when outside of work, either. No, his dislike of her was clear by the one and only cocktail he would ever deign to serve to her, one he had named "Deception"–a deceptively sweet and visually appealing drink with a strong underlying bitterness.

He did not know if Bubbles got the message and still insisted on coming by the Enchanted Toadstool anyway, or if she did so because the mocktail "Comfort" was one of the few things that could relieve Dahlia's suffering for at least a little while.

Piper did provide medicine to help with it, but there were only so many potions and drugs that the poor thing could take in a day without suffering from ill effects.

Bubbles frowned at him, her brows furrowed as her eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Piper, who was usually to be seen with him. She exaggeratedly stuck out her bottom lip as she spotted no sign of her and began mumbling something under her breath. How had this fool managed to convince herself that Piper was her friend?

In Queen Mab's territory, any harm inflicted upon a child was considered an unforgivable crime. The consequences, whether intentional or accidental, were dire. Bubbles knew this all too well. She was shunned by everyone in the village because of what she had done to Dahlia.

The exception to this was Piper, who, as the one who was responsible for Dahlia's medical care, she had to deal with Bubbles during these treatments. Piper remained civil to avoid making those already burdensome sessions any worse. Unfortunately, in Bubble's eyes, this bare minimum of kindness was mistaken for friendship.

"Aw, looks like Piper isn't here; we'll have to wait to ask her until later, yes we do. She's been so busy since the Turner boy showed up, yes she is, but she still needs to make time for you, Dolly. She's our friend, so don't you worry, she'll see you soon; and we can ask our question." She rocked the poor, suffering child, speaking loudly enough for him to hear in hopes he'd relay the message to Piper.

What an irritating woman; if it wasn't for the sake of Dahlia's treatments, a person who had committed the crime Bubbles had would never be allowed to live within their Ring. Those who harmed children were not welcomed within the Circle of Queen Mab; this was not a rule he questioned and yet, a conflicting thought gnawed at him.

Cosmo, with his carelessness and utter stupidity, was the cause of the disaster that had befallen poor little Timmy

If he had only been more attentive to his surroundings, if he had just taken a little more care, then his godchild wouldn't be suffering so much, his condition so uncertain. He honestly feared the worst, the possibility that Timmy might not recover, that something unexpected could occur and everything could go horribly wrong. He would always love Cosmo, but if Timmy's treatments failed, if the worst were to happen, could he ever forgive his son for the loss of a child's life?

Queen Mab, as a personal favor to him, had agreed to give Cosmo a chance to reside in her territory on the condition he caused no further problems and obeyed all the rules of their Circle. He had spoken with the concerned villagers about the issue, and whilst they agreed for his sake, the looks he received from them revealed their unfavorable thoughts. He couldn't blame them, for if Cosmo hadn't been his own flesh and blood, he would have been among those arguing against his inclusion in their Ring.

The mere thought of his son enduring the same ostracization that Bubbles faced weighed heavily on his heart, as well as disgust at his own hypocrisy, bending his rules and forsaking his values solely due to his personal emotions.

He clenched his teeth, a sharp sting piercing his consciousness, as a stray thought unexpectedly invaded his mind–how his actions mirrored the favoritism Jorgen displayed towards Timmy.

He shook his head. If he kept up this line of thought, he'd need another Emerald Embrace.

"Are ya alright, then?" Gin asked in his smooth tone, the sound of glass clinking as he polished it with gentle strokes. He stood at attention behind the bar, with a relaxed but attentive demeanor. He couldn't help but wonder how the man managed to escape boredom, standing there for endless hours every single day, even on the quietest days when the Enchanted Toadstool received no visitors.

"I must admit, I momentarily lost focus as I was engrossed in the creation of a heartfelt movie for my cherished daughter-in-law and dearest Timmy," came his quick reply. Gin continued to polish the glass, his fingers gliding over the smooth surface, seemingly unbothered by the curt response. He respected privacy and didn't press for details about why the he had chosen the upstairs lodgings instead of his own rooms to work on such an undertaking. He likely figured that he merely did not wish to speak about the matter in front of Bubbles, who was well known for sticking her nose into things, though that did not stop her starting off on a different matter.

Her perpetually wide-eyed gaze glanced up from Dahlia momentarily, pausing briefly in her efforts to help the struggling creature to take sips of her mocktail. Her grey eyes peered out from the matted locks of hazy-blue hair that hung down her face, her colorless lips pressed together tightly in stern disapproval.

"Maybe you're indulging them a little too much, not for me to poke my nose into things, but making a setup that allows a godmother to get drunk in front of her charge isn't very suitable. I never did anything so unprofessional, did I Dolly? No, no, my Dolly always hated it when her parents came home drunk, so I never, ever would dare intoxicate myself in front of her. It's just isn't suitable, I say, not in the least," Bubbles responded, her voice filled with self-righteous conviction. He refrained from pointing out that she was literally drinking at that very moment, knowing it would only lead to further conversation with her; though he couldn't hold back a retort in his daughter-in-law's defense.

"You do love your exaggerations," he warned, "but if you go spreading lies and slander about my beloved family, then I will need to be cross with you." If Dahlia weren't present, he would be cross with her right now.

"Watch for yourself if you don't believe me." Offended, she sniffed and took a big gulp of her own drink, allowing some of it to dribble down her pasty chin. The stains added to the numerous variety that clung to her shabby greyish dress. As a Fey, she could easily clean herself within a blink of an eye. She had no need for messy hair or stained, raggedy clothes. Perhaps she thought these things would somehow invoke pity from those who saw her, but all they actually did was garner disgust.

"She's already had seven cocktails, far too many in one sitting," she continued, "and she does not look anywhere near done. And—ah, doing a dance like that! Such a shameful display in front of that child! A male child too—! If you watch that and still say I'm exaggerating, you'll be the one spreading lies and slander, won't he, Dolly?"

"She's not actin' nearly as bad as that, an' the dance was the Charleston, which is completely harmless by today's standards." Gin interjected, putting down the glass he was polishing. He met his eyes with a gentle gaze and a soft smile. "Ya see, Nova, the wee lass is havin' a strong Linkin'-Episode right now, and some of her traits have mixed up with her Anti-self. So, aye, she got a bit tipsy, but it hasn't turned into anythin' indecent or worth criticizin'."

"I can forgive that a very responsible fairy would have a very irresponsible anti-fairy, and that this is a temporary thing, or I should hope it is, because if when she does become a Fey she ends up having this level of professional disregard, I'd say, I'd fear I could not be friends with someone who'd get pitifully drunk in front of their child." Bubbles announced, as if this would be some great loss on Wanda's part. "It's unseemly—even trying to make him drink, she did. I'd never do that, isn't that right, Dolly? It's just not a decent thing for a godmother to do. It isn't."

He put a hand over his mouth, shocked at this unexpected and unwanted development. While he had considered the possibility that she could get slightly tipsy, he had complete trust in her sense of responsibility and level-headed nature, so he hadn't thought to put a cap on how much she could drink, trusting in her ability to judge her limits. But if she was in a the middle of a Linking-Episode, if she was currently exhibiting personality traits from her anti-self, then…. all that responsibility and level-headedness may have done a complete 180!

"Don't worry, things are goin' grand, and they're havin' a marvelous time." Gin reassured and turned on the TV, showing the habitat channel; the Mardi Gras party was in full swing and Wanda was swaying in her seat to the music, her voice off-key as she sang the lyrics to 'When the Saints Go Marching In'. She had an arm wrapped around the boy, their bodies moving in sync, attempting what appeared to be an imitation of dancing whilst sitting down. Timmy was laughing heartily, thankfully unaffected by his godmother's obvious inebriation. If anything, he seemed to find Wanda's uncharacteristic behavior amusing.

"Ah well, we can take comfort that the lad isn't upset." Gin said, his voice tinged with a hint of relief. He glanced at the boy, observing his relaxed demeanor. "In my experience, kids who suffer abuse from alcoholics get scared around someone who's drinkin'. But sure enough, the wee one is havin' a good laugh at it, so it's quite unlikely his parents are alcoholics."

Bubbles snorted with a sneer on her face. "I don't think it matters if they aren't alcoholics, not if they are drug addicts. The latter is far worse a vice than the former, I would think." She paused, shaking her head. "I do admit, Dolly, not even your parents practiced such an awful habit, though they certainly were terrible enough people to do so."

He gasped as his mind struggled to process Bubbles' words. Gin, maintaining his professional demeanor, resisted the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. "Assumptions made without solid evidence are often false." he said calmly. "Though it's either as Bubbles is assumin', or that the boy's parents are just... very daft."

He sat down at the counter, feeling a sense of urgency to learn more details about the situation and how his daughter-in-law had ended up with such a severe case of Linking. "Please, explain."

"Well..." Gin paused, his eyes darting around the room as he searched for the right words. Bubbles, seizing the opportunity, couldn't resist being the one to spill the details; she always enjoyed being the center of attention. "His mother cooks with banana shampoo and lemon dish soap as flavoring ingredients, mixes up lug nuts and walnuts, and can't tell sugar apart from salt!" Her satisfaction was evident in her smile as she helped Dahlia take another sip of her drink. "As I said, obviously on some kind of drugs; no one could be that stupid without being under the influence of something! If she's not high as a kite, then she's definitely trying to poison the child."

Fury coursed through him, his fists clenching tightly. He couldn't comprehend why Wanda was resisting bringing the child to Fey world, where he would be safe and sound if he was living with such a dangerous mother. He made a mental note to have a polite word with her about it later. Naturally, he couldn't reveal that they had learned these details from eavesdropping on their private conversations, but he could fabricate a story about finding trace amounts of poisonous substances in the child during his medical tests. As a Fey he had a natural aversion to outright lies, but he was sure if he asked Piper to do an in-depth look, she'd find some trace of these poisons in the child. He wondered what Wanda's reaction would be to such news. Could it be she somehow had not realized it? He just could not imagine that someone who cared so much for her godchild would leave him in a house with a deliberate poisoner! Could it be as Bubbles had claimed that the boys' parents were drug users and that the addition of those poisonous substances were non-malicious in nature? Even so, that hardly acted as a justification or an excuse for such disregard for the child's wellbeing!

He glanced at the television screen, where the pair seemed to be having a wonderful time. Yet, he couldn't shake off his worry about the conversations that had led to these revelations about his mother's cooking. More importantly...

"What happened to cause her such a bad case of Linking?" He questioned Gin, hoping Bubbles did not stick her nose into it.

"Ah, the Heart-Soul got a wee bit feisty; tried to pull the boy's Mind-Soul out again when he took a nap after yer China-themed event. Poor lass ignored Piper's warnin' and got too close to the cage tryin' to comfort the lad, and suffered a bad enough mental attack to get possessed. Fortunately, Piper sorted out the matter."

"She looked awfully shook up, though I suppose getting possessed must be quite an awful feeling; still she was very upset by it, not that any of us know what kinds of things she saw while possessed, but whatever they were must not have been very nice." Bubbles took a gulp of her drink, wiping the bit the dribbled down her chin with the back of her hand. "But she ought to have put up a more cheerful front. If it were me, I'd never have let my little Dolly see that something was bothering me."

"She was in a right disturbed state of mind." Gin admitted. "But nothin' undue for what she experienced. None of us have any idea what kind of mental attack the soul launched, but I'm sure Piper will be able to tell ya all about it, 'cause of her special power. She probably saw it when she brought the poor girl back to her senses."

"I see…" He sighed; these two were truly luckless. It was as if the universe conspired to make sure every joyous occasion got at least a little tainted by something. He looked at the television and managed a smile as he saw Wanda pull Timmy to his feet, and with great care, despite her swaying and unsteady gait, supported his weakened body as they made their way over to one of the many festival floats, so he could catch some beads that were being thrown. "Nevertheless, those two individuals are determined to preserve the happiness they experience when they are together, regardless of any setbacks."

"You should bring the wee missy by later; I'd be glad to whip her up a special drink." Gin invited with a welcoming smile; she must have inspired him—it had been too long since the poor fellow got to make a drink for someone new.

"I certainly will invite her." He promised, in her normal state of mind, she'd never deign to leave the boy alone in the room, but while she was Linking, it was possible she could accept the invitation.

…How unfortunate that the boy was not yet ready to claim; it certainly would make everything so much easier if she was always this careless.

— Poof's Pov—

"Poof…" He grumbled, whilst Foop wore a smug expression. Crossing his arms with a pout, he stared at the clone of his brother with resentment. Since Foop had been bragging so much about his show & tell project, he had taken him into Timmy's bedroom in order to show off his own handy-work.

When they had taken Timmy to stay with them in their fish bowl after the accident, his mommy had gone to prepare a room for Timmy while his big brother got his things in order. During that time, they had made a Timmy-Clone to take his place on Earth, ensuring no one would question his absence. He had asked his dad to let him make the clone, as he was practicing hard on that subject in school. Although it was his first sentient clone, he thought it had turned out pretty well. He figured he could make his "very first magic-clone" his show & tell project, since he had not wanted to admit to Foop that he hadn't even started on a project yet.

Each student had the freedom to choose their project, whether it be artwork, finding or collecting something, working towards a special goal, or anything else. Honestly, completing a school project wasn't on his mind due to everything that had happened, and it wasn't due anytime soon. However, seeing Foop show off made him want to say he had worked just as hard, and then figured that the Timmy clone he made could actually be a really amazing project; he'd just have to start keeping a day-journal about its behavior and how closely it resembled the real Timmy and if anyone noticed anything off.

It was going to be an awesome project, and even though the idea of using it as such had only just occurred to him, he had gotten quickly excited over it, so he had taken Foop to see it, wanting to show off how well it was made…but unfortunately….

"So, the one you made was so poor that it got replaced?" Foop taunted smugly and broke off into a series of chuckles. "How mortifying!"

It turned out that Jorgen, thinking his clone wasn't up to par, had gotten rid of it and made a new one in its place. Sure, the one he had made had some differences in hair color, eye color, height, weight, and voice, but overall, it was good! He was confident that it could have passed for Timmy without arousing much suspicion.

"Poof, poof…" He muttered in defense, arguing that Jorgen was simply too fussy. To salvage some pride, he boasted that his dad had entrusted him with the task of shrinking all of them down and transporting Timmy into the fishbowl, which he had executed flawlessly. However, Foop remained unimpressed.

"That's so simple that even your idiot of a dad can do it without messing up." Foop rolled his eyes. "You might as well try bragging about staying in the air while floating."

He puffed his cheeks out, annoyed; not only had he been embarrassed in front of Foop, but now he needed a new Show & Tell project. He eyed the Timmy clone critically. It did not notice them; magic-clones did not know about fairies, of course—having a clone making wishes was too risky. This was a copy of how Timmy would be, without them, but of course, clones weren't nearly as complex as a real person. He had to admit that Jorgen's clone did look exactly like the real Timmy, but not even Jorgen could make it act or think like him. His mother once explained a Magic-clone as being like a hollow chocolate-bunny. He did not completely understand what she meant by that, but he understood enough to know that a magic-clone wasn't really a thinking, feeling person; it only acted like one.

She had told him that because he had gotten upset when Timmy had once wished a clone of his away after he was done with using it to skip school for the day. In his eyes, it was like seeing another version of his brother being wiped out and he had felt so sorry for Clone-Timmy that it was gone forever and wouldn't be able to read comics anymore or play games or eat candy ever again. He had cried and told Timmy that he was mean for doing such an awful thing to 'poor Clone-Timmy', but his parents had explained that wishing it away hadn't been cruel as the clone did not actually have any real thoughts or feelings; it only pretended to. Even if it read the comics, played the games and munched on candy, it wasn't actually enjoying any of it—it was just doing the actions the magic in its head told it to do.

Right now, this clone was sitting in bed, looking roughed up; he could hear the Real Housewives of Dimmsdale on TV downstairs and figured Vicky was once again over and that those wounds were more her handy work. Clone-Timmy out of what was probably boredom was monotonously striking a balled up fist against his leg, over and over; the slap of skin being struck was loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Jorgen clone stupid; Tim-me watch TV or games, not hurt self." He looked at the Clone that had replaced his in disgust; his clone would have known that his big brother liked to watch cartoons or play his video games. His clone wouldn't just be sitting there like a lump hitting its self for no reason! Jorgen's clone might look better, but it did not act like Timmy at all! No one would hit themselves on purpose, it had to have been broken. He'd tell Jorgen next time he saw him that the clone he made was faulty. Maybe he'd get a second chance to make his own clone and show off that he could do a better job of it than even Jorgen!

"Yeah, I'll say that this clone is acting rather peculiar; surely Turner has enough people out there willing to hurt him without doing it himself?" Foop shrugged. "Ah well, if this is all you have to offer, then my time has been wasted, though I admittedly have enjoyed laughing at your failure. Hope you can think of a different show & tell project, one that doesn't get replaced for not being up to snuff."

"Poof…."

"I will leave now and seek further explanation from my Father about the Fey and this concept of Linking. The subject remains unclear to me, but I am relieved to learn that it is only temporary." With that, Foop poofed away with no further goodbyes. He grumbled to himself, annoyed at how he had ended up embarrassed, but decided to push the matter behind him until he saw Jorgen. Like Foop, he was also curious about finding out more about the Fey and what Linking was. He hoped that his mother was not having as hard of a time with enduring it as Foop's mom was.

When he poofed back into the castle; just as he wondered on who he could ask or where he could go to try to learn more about the subject, hoping to beat Foop to the information so he wouldn't be able to brag about knowing something he did not, a loud voice echoed down the hall, startling him.

"Three words for you both! There is no way that I am—!" The voice continued, but the distance was too great for the rest of the words to be deciphered. The only reason he had heard as much as he did was because the person had been shouting. He recognized the voice as one he had heard before, but couldn't quite place the owner. He followed it down the hall, trying to trace where it was coming from.

"Family through thick or thin... Fey or not, he's your... turn your back... Be there... of need..." His grandmother's voice was heatedly shouting back at the first voice, but he couldn't make out everything she was saying. He turned the hall, and it seemed to be coming from the Story-Time room, which was weird, as no one ever used this room. The only time he had been in it was when his mom had brought him and Timmy there after his father had yelled at Timmy while they had been watching Kung Fu Panda on his brother's first—and only—night at their castle. He had really been looking forward to having Timmy stay with them and having sleepovers every night. He hoped they could do that once his mom and Timmy returned from Fey world.

He opened the door to the room just as the first voice exploded in a rush of fury, literally screaming right in his grandmother's face. "Look, you can play that family card all you want, but there are only three people I care about: Me, Myself, and I! And I am keeping my nose clean of anything to do with it!"

"You are... ! You are the black sheep of the Cosma family! What do you have to say for yourself?" His grandmother was nearly shaking with rage.

"I suppose the only thing I can say is... Baaaahhh..." His Uncle Schnozmo, the owner of the voice he had failed to recognize, made an impressive impersonation of a sheep right in Mama Cosma's face.

"Poof..." He put both hands over his mouth, unable to imagine ever treating his own mother with such rudeness. His grandmother, as it was, was more livid than he had ever seen her in his entire life.

His dad, who had been watching their argument with a mixed expression, took notice of him and, with a cheerfulness that was so forced that it wouldn't have fooled a newborn, called out, "Hey, look who's here! Your Uncle Schnozmo is visiting!" Both his grandmother and uncle froze up and turned, looking at him with startled and uncomfortable expressions. His grandmother anxiously kneaded her hands, while Schnozmo pulled on his bowtie, whistling softly under his breath.

"What wrong,?" He squeaked out nervously; he hated people fighting with each other—-especially when it was family.

"Oh, nothing is wrong, sweet-heart!" His grandmother laughed forcefully. "We were just having a little—disagreement—about a small insignificant matter."

"Yes!" His uncle chimed in with a cheerfulness that did not even try to disguise its fakeness. "A matter so insignificant that it doesn't require any further discussion, so I'll just be on my way!" Pulling out his wand in order to poof away, Schnozmo let the fake-cheer drop entirely. "In fact, let's pretend you never even spoke to me at all."

"Schnozmo—-" His dad grabbed his brother's wrist, trying to stop him from leaving. His uncle's expression turned sympathetic for a few moments, but then hardened.

"You do whatever you want, little bro, but I've got just three words for you; leave me out of it."

"And I've got three words for you; Learn to count!" Just as his uncle shook off his dad's hand, his grandmother was quick to pluck the wand out of her eldest son's hand, preventing his escape.

"Hey, give that back!"

"Not until you be a good boy! Now shut up and listen to your mother!"

"I was never a good boy, and I never listened to you and I sure as heck ain't going to start now!"

"Poof, let's leave them to it, this…is probably going to get real messy." His dad guided him out of the room with a dismayed expression. "How about we go to the kitchen and get a snack or something…right now I'm hungry enough to eat a throw-pillow sandwich!"

"….Poof…" he eyed his grandmother and uncle uneasily as they left them alone to continue their argument. "Poof, Poof….?"

His father's answer to his question about what the fight was about was a look of discomfort and a heavy silence. He swallowed down hard, hesitating to venture a guess, but after a few moments of hesitation, braved to do so.

"….Grandpa Nova….?"

He had heard briefly that his grandfather apparently lived in Fey world, but hadn't heard much more than that. His father's response was to grimace and mess anxiously with his hair.

"Poof, sorry…. let's just not talk about this, ok? I kinda had an earful already."

"Ok…sorry." He sulked at being left uninformed, but seeing the look on his dad's face, he did not want to push him to talk about it; he looked really upset. His dad loved both his brother and his mother, so seeing the two of them fight must be painful.

Maybe he felt the way he did whenever Timmy and his dad argued; if so, he could understand why he did not want to talk about it—having the people you love fight with each other hurt a lot. Family should only ever love each other.

"What kind of snack do you want?" His dad asked and began rummaging through the cupboards.

"Mac and cheese." He requested, sitting down at the table feeling dejected. He had wanted to ask about the Fey and what Linking was, but it was obviously not a good time for it.

"….Timmy always eats that when he's feeling down….you really like to mimic your god brother, don't you?" His dad frowned, eyeing him. "…Sorry if we upset you Poof; Mama and my brother have always been like that, though. It's nothing to worry about."

"I never yell at mommy, never ever." He crossed his arms. He did not know what the fight was about, but he was completely on his grandmother's side. "Uncle needs to say sorry, Poof."

"Well….just between you and me, Mama was being kind of pushy." His dad poofed up a big bowl of mac and cheese in front of him, and sat down across from him with his own bowl. "…To be honest, I think I'm on Schnozmo's side." His dad furtively looked around himself, peeking cautiously over his shoulders and lowering his voice to a whisper. "But whatever you do, don't tell your grandmother I said that….!"

"Poof." He made a promise; the mere thought of his grandmother's reaction to his dad disagreeing with her was scarier than his brother's entire Lovecraftian collection!

"So, how did Foop like the clone you made?" His dad asked, obviously wanting to talk about more cheerful things, but this line of conversation just soured his mood and he sulkily explained that the clone he had made had been replaced by one Jorgen had whipped up.

"Huh, sure, the hair and eye color was a bit off, and his height was different, and his teeth were bigger—which I'm surprised is even possible—and you accidentally gave him freckles, and one arm was shorter than the other, and—-"

"….Poof." He crossed his arms, pouting as his dad spent the next five minutes naming faults.

"—But, other than all of that, it was spot on!" His dad finished by flashing him two encouraging thumbs up, which had no effect on him whatsoever. His dad, seeing his dissatisfaction just laughed it off with a wave of his hand. "Oh sure, there were lots of little problems, but I'm telling the truth when I say that those mistakes would have gone unnoticed."

"Really?" He squeaked out, a little hopefully.

"Oh yeah 'cause, no one ever pays any attention to Timmy!" His dad cracked up laughing as if he made a funny joke; which he might have thought he did but, like many of his dad's jokes, it just wasn't funny.

"Hey, why are you glaring at you mac and cheese? Isn't it cheesy enough? want me to add some more?" His father obliviously asked whilst poofing extra cheese onto his pasta.

He sighed, and took a bite of his snack and promptly spat it out, pushing the bowl away whilst gagging. His dad blinked, surprised, and took a taste of his own and turned completely green, poofed up a barf bag and hurled into it.

"Ugh! Whoa, I do not know what I did wrong, but that was the second most disgusting mac and cheese I ever tasted." His dad wiped his mouth and poofed away the barf bag along with the bowls of macaroni. "For the record, the worst mac and cheese I ever tasted was cooked by your mother."

"Poof…." Another not nice joke, but at least this one he had to agree with. Whilst his dad was normally a decent enough chef; his mom's cooking… left much to be desired. The food his mother made looked great; like food you'd see presented on the cover of a magazine; but it tasted as bland as plain oatmeal. Everything she poofed up was dry, tasteless, or had a weird aftertaste; Everyone who ate her cooking would agree it was nice to look at but terrible to put in your mouth.

Except for Timmy, his older brother seemed to adore everything she cooked lately, devouring it with a big grin. This wasn't always the case, though. At ten, he'd prefer even Mrs. Turner's dreadful meals—over anything conjured by his mom. If Timmy's mom did not make food for him, as she often forgot to cook for three, or just wasn't around to cook at all, only then did he wish up a meal. Yet now, Timmy happily ate whatever food his mom decided to poof up, despite no improvement in her culinary skills.

"Timmy loves mom's cooking now, 'cause he older?" He asked curiously as his dad made another attempt at poofing up fresh bowls of mac & cheese. He had heard that a person's tastes changed when they got bigger, but he couldn't imagine ever loving his mom's cooking—not that he'd ever tell her that.

"Oh, no, it's because Timmy's just being a little suck up." His dad laughed, tried a spoonful of the newly conjured snack and made a frustrated face, and shook his wand, irritated. "I just got this new wand! It can't be broken already? It must be defective or something!"

"Poof!" He balled up his tiny fists furiously. "Tim-me no suck up!"

He had learnt what the term meant when Foop accused him of it after he had given his teacher Ms. Powers the apple he had learned to conjure in food conjuring lessons.

"Oh please, there's no way you haven't noticed how lately Timmy will do whatever he thinks will make Wanda praise him, no matter how boring it is." His dad rolled his eyes and poofed up a takeout menu for Jorgen's Pizza + Duckzooka Parlour, and began skimming the daily specials as he continued his complaint. "Even more annoying is how he is always complimenting her; I swear, she can't wear a different color of socks without him telling her how great they look on her! It would be one thing if he was just trying to butter her up to get some really outlandish wish granted or something, but he's not even—! Ugh, I miss the fun ten year old Timmy!"

"Tim-me still fun….." He felt sad; just a little while ago, his dad was talking about how sorry he was that Timmy got hurt, and how he'd try really hard when Timmy got back to make up for things, but now he was picking on him again. His dad must've heard the disappointment in his voice, for he blushed, lowering his head and averting his gaze.

"….Sorry. I love Timmy, I do, but I just can't help but feel a little frustrated with him. How can I not be? Our spunky, mischievous, fun-loving godchild suddenly turns into a needy, weepy mommy's boy. I keep expecting the Timmy I've always known to show up one day and reveal this new Timmy is just some stray clone we had forgotten about."

"Tim-me more fun before." He agreed. In those days, his big brother was once the embodiment of fun; he had radiated life and energy, fearlessly embracing every adventure. But lately, a shadow of timidity had clouded his spirit. He became withdrawn, often too burdened by sadness to want to play, and his vibrant laughter, which used to be a daily sound, became rare.

"Then you know what I mean." His father looked relieved to have someone who agreed with him.

"But, Tim-me…" He interjected. "—Is kinder now."

His god brother had always possessed a kind heart, but his selfish streak and impulsive nature sometimes overshadowed his empathy for others. Nevertheless, he had always been quick to apologize and make amends when he realized his mistakes. However, these days, Timmy had transformed into someone remarkably considerate, sweet, and helpful. His gentleness and sympathy had blossomed beyond measure. "Love both old Tim-me and new Tim-me; if new Tim-me could have old Tim-me's happiness, then he'd be best Tim-me."

"…I'd rather he got his strength back." His dad laid the menu out on the table, signifying the end of this conversation; his dad looked tired and irritable. Whatever the fight his grandmother and uncle were having had obviously worn down his dad's patience, but he did his best to sound cheerful over the phone as he called the restaurant.

"Yeah, we'll take one extra large Tankbuster taco pizza, a Delta force deep dish, some of the General's garlic breadsticks, oh and some Bravo Buffalo Wings, and two servings of Artillery Artichoke Dip," His dad ordered the food, if Timmy and his mom were here his dad would have ordered a serving of Boot camp BBQ ribs, and a Covert Ops Calzone. "…Oh, I guess since mama's here, I'll get a Recon Reuben sandwich and just in case Schnozmo stays to eat, one order of Field Ration Fried Pickles!"

"Poof, Poof…" He added quickly, not wanting his dad to forget the dessert. Even though Timmy wasn't here, he, too, loved the cheesecake from this place. He used to think cheese and cake sounded weird together, but his brother had hooked him on the stuff.

"And one Cavalry Cherry Cheesebomb cake! Ok, thanks!" His dad hung up the phone. "They say it'll be here in five minutes or—" before he could finish speaking, the Tooth fairy poofed into the kitchen holding several food delivery bags. "—Less….?" His dad blinked, startled, cocking his head to the side questioningly. "I heard of fast food before, but that was instant! But, is Jorgen really making you of all people work at his restaurant? Wow, I'll be ordering takeout from there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." The Tooth fairy rolled her eyes and poofed the food, ready-to-eat, onto the table. "This is a one-time deal; I only volunteered to bring your food here in order to drop off the video-message Wanda and Timmy left with Jorgen."

"Poof, poof!" He clapped his hands together cheerfully, more happy with another tape of his mother and god brother than he was with the delicious food on the table. His dad looked anxious though, even as he quickly poofed up a television in order to watch the tape. His own excitement turned to dismay when the image flickered to life.

—Timmy was wearing the same plastic-smile he used after something bad happened at school; the smile he always used so that he did not worry him. He pretended it worked, because he knew did not want to make his brother feel any worse, but he could always tell Timmy's real smiles from the fake ones.

His face was flushed red, his fogged over eyes were completely dim, and his entire body looked as flip-floppy as a rag-doll, and he shivered constantly. His mother, wearing the same fake smile that did nothing to subtract from the worry in her eyes, poofed more pillows behind his brother's back to offer him some support as he leaned back and covered him up in some thick blankets.

"Hi Poof, Hi Cosmo, I hope the two of you are doing well! Timmy has just finished another one of his treatments and is resting up from it. He's being a real brave boy." His mother's voice was a lot like her smile.

"The treatments are hard, but Wanda is being awesome, and everyone here is being really nice to me. They took me out for a tea party earlier, and then showed me some baby deer at this really pretty field—then Cosmo's father, Nova, took us to an underwater café…" Timmy's excitement and cheerfulness about the things he did that day brought a small spark to his dim eyes that was not hollow-like his smile. He took relief in that the fake smile was there, probably because he did not feel well, not because he was unhappy.

His brother seemed to be looking for something and his mom without asking what it was, brought out a few photographs and held them up to the camera; Jorgen zoomed in on each one so that they could get a good look.

"Poof, poof….." He gaped in amazement at the man who was with them. He had slightly longer green hair and reading glasses, but besides that, he was identical to his dad!

"Grandpa?" He looked up at his father questioningly; his father was simultaneously staring at the screen and averting his gaze; and so caught up in not knowing what to do, failed to confirm his guess, but he was pretty sure that the man playing with his mom and Timmy in those pictures must've been his Grandpa Nova. He did not know him, but with how happy they all looked playing together, and the big smiles on his and Timmy's faces had him conclude he must be a really nice and fun person.

"Poof….!" He giggled. The picture being shown now was hilarious. The three of them were playing that scary board game his mom and Timmy liked to play, cosplaying characters from it, and they were making really silly poses in front of a really huge squid-like monster covered in eye-balls. He might have found the creature scary if he had been there in person, but seeing it in a picture with everyone goofing around and having fun made it look more like a harmless prop than anything frightening.

"Everything is really nice here!" Timmy told them, his smile no longer looking fake, though he still horribly frail. "We went for a walk through the village and it was like…walking through a storybook! They have houses made of giant flowers and mushrooms and glowing crystals; mansion sized tree houses and trees larger than skyscrapers! Oh, and we then went to this glade, and the waterfall was enormous! And I saw these really cute baby deer, twins, who were white as snow. Apparently white deer in this world are sacred and seeing their babies is apparently very rare. The Fey has all been really kind to me! Oh, and there are kids here too, their all really nice and we played together; and then the Queen came for a visit and made all these pretty stars and sang songs and danced with us. Ah, I almost forgot to mention—the food here is the best ever! They feed us so much and all of it is super yummy, it's like a 5-star all you can eat buffet!"

"They've been treating us well; you don't need to worry about the two of us." His mom reassured and guided Timmy back down against the pillows, his brother had got a little too excited as he told about his day, and the toll it had taken on his energy showed even through the camera as his lips lost color and some sweat dotted his brow. "Timmy is working hard at getting better so that we can come home soon."

"The Fey have this really awesome ability to make time flow differently!" Timmy added, now even his voice sounded weak, even though he spoke with excitement. "The room we're recovering in has time pass really slow, without it affecting our bodies, so I get to wait a long time before each treatment! An hour inside here is only fifteen minutes outside of here! And the café—Nova made it so that one hour in that room was only one second outside of it, and—!"

"I don't need to be reminded of that power right now!" Jorgen's voiced growled from the other side of the camera.

"Ooh, right." Timmy put his hands up defensively, a grin reminiscent of the old-Timmy spreading across his face. "…They kinda locked Jorgen up in a room full of cuckoo clocks using that power, so he's a little on edge…."

"Because of that ability, though, Timmy is getting a lot of extra recovery time, but it does make me miss the two of you even more." It almost felt like his mother was giving him that apologetic smile directly rather than through a camera.

"Yeah, same here—I miss the two of you a whole lot!" Timmy agreed. "But I promise when I can come home, we'll all play together a bunch!"

"You two behave yourselves until we get back."

"—And then we can all misbehave ourselves." Timmy joked, making him laugh; at least his brother seemed happy, even if he did not seem well.

"No, you behave yourselves when we get back, too." His mom playfully nudged Timmy and waved at the camera, and his brother followed suit. "Love you, bye for now!"

"Bye-bye!"

"—Timmy looks so sick," Was the first thing his father said after the tape signed off. He was surprised he said nothing about seeing his dad for the first time. Shouldn't that have been the first thing he commented on? The Tooth Fairy looked a little surprised herself, but did not ask any questions, so he followed her example and stayed quiet, too.

"Poor thing does seem like he's feeling terrible, but at least he's keeping his spirits up; I'm glad he's being treated kindly, but I do hope he doesn't get careless. The Fey are a tricky bunch." The Tooth Fairy crossed her arms, looking irritated. "That stunt they pulled with Jorgen has left him—well, cuckoo! I'm forcing him to take the rest of the day off before he completely loses his marbles."

"Ooh, that's ok, he can have some of mine! I have cat eyes, and oilies and glimmers…" His dad held out a bag of marbles, but then clutched it back to his chest. "But he can't have my steely!"

"Not those kinds of marbles." She corrected and put her hand to her forehead as she furrowed her brows. "I hate him having to go to Fey world so often. They aren't very fond of Jorgen, and they do like giving him a hard time."

"Poof, poof, poof?"

"Unfortunately, no, they're not scared of Jorgen at all." The Tooth fairy shook her head to his inquiry. "To all of us, Jorgen is as strong as a lion, but to the Fey, well, he might as well be a declawed kitten. Oh, but don't tell him I said that. Anyway, is there anything you want me to pass on to Jorgen? He can bring it to Timmy and Wanda tomorrow."

"Poof, poof!" He exclaimed that he had some things, and poofed up the get-well cards he had made for Timmy, and for the little butterfly Timmy, and the 'I miss you' card he made for his mom; as well as the jacket he and his grandmother had bought for Timmy as a present and a pamphlet for the Fairy Festival. Maybe it could serve as extra motivation for his brother to get better faster so that he and mom could come home and they could all go to the festival together.

"Aw, these cards are so cute and I'm sure Timmy will love the jacket." The Tooth Fairy looked over the items approvingly and then smiled gently seeing the pamphlet. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you that Timmy will be well enough to come home by then."

"Poof!" He thanked her.

"Did…Jorgen say anything about how Timmy's doing? You know…like…are things going well, or…? I know nothing about the sort of treatment he is getting since it's top secret and all, so….is it normal he looks so—sickish?" His dad asked worriedly. "Like…there's nothing abnormal or…"

"He did not talk to me about it." The Tooth Fairy shook her head apologetically. "But if something did not look right to him, I'd probably be able to tell; he's as easy to read as an instruction manual; and just between us, he likes Timmy much more than he lets on."

"Poof, poof….." He expressed how awful it was to see Timmy looking so weak.

"I know it's tough seeing Timmy like that, but remember, he's getting the best care possible, and he's a lot stronger than he looks." The Tooth Fairy reassured.

"Poof." He managed a small smile, feeling comforted by her words. He knew that Timmy's recovery was going to be a long journey, and they'd be there for him every step of the way; he only wished he could be there in person like his Mom was to help his brother become well again.

"Quick, come here! I need help and I can't find my father anywhere!"

The pleasant atmosphere was abruptly broken by Foop's voice as he appeared in the room, visibly upset, hands trembling and eyes frantically searching.

"What's the matter?" his dad inquired, startled by both Foop's sudden appearance and his distressed demeanor.

"It's my mother! I went to Father's study to look for some books on Fey and Linking and—" Foop, clearly agitated, struggled to articulate his thoughts, gesticulating more than speaking. "I found her, and—and something's terribly wrong—she's... she's not alright, not at all!"

"Poof, poof..." He empathized, though he was unsure how he could help.

"I can't locate Father," Foop continued, as if answering the unasked question of why he had come to them. "And I don't know who else to turn to; no one I know is knowledgeable about Fey or Linking, so you two buffoons are my only hope!"

His choice of words wasn't ideal for seeking aid, but anger or refusal wasn't an option considering how upset he looked, especially upon seeing the hint of tears in Foop's eyes. Moreover, if Foop's mother was in trouble, his own mother might be as well.

"I'm familiar with the Fey, and I know what Linking is," the Tooth Fairy said after a moment's pause, apparently reluctant to aid an Anti-Fairy but recognizing that the issue could affect her too. "Lead me to her, and I might be able to help."

Foop's gratitude was clear, though true to his usual ways, he did not say anything to express it, so he thanked the Tooth Fairy on behalf of both of them, grateful for her willingness to help and hopeful she would know what to do.

"I'll inform Mama and Schnozmo in case they start searching for us!" His dad vanished swiftly, clearly disturbed.

"Let's go, quickly!" Foop urged, taking his arm and poofed them away. He just hoped that his own mother was safe from whatever it was that had happened to Anti-Wanda.

—Wanda's POV—

The garden was a canvas of vibrant purple, green, and gold, forming a kaleidoscope of colors. Lively trumpet and saxophone music filled the air, playing "My Feet Can't Fail Me Now" performed by holographic musicians on a float. This float, a tribute to Medieval Times, featured a meticulously designed castle and a faux dragon that towered above, emitting real flames. Riders clad as minstrels in vivid costumes played their instruments, while ladies-in-waiting in billowing gowns danced, and knights in gleaming armor sang along. The music intertwined with the joyous cacophony of laughter and conversation, creating a dizzying yet exciting atmosphere.

She caught a strand of beads tossed by one of the holographic dancers and held it up triumphantly to Timmy seated in the VIP lounge. He applauded her efforts with a hearty laugh.

With cheeks flushed and eyes bright, she stumbled slightly on the uneven cobblestones as she made her way towards Timmy. After a few drinks, she wanted to stretch her legs, but got caught up going from float to float, catching beads. The excitement and energy of Mardi Gras had gotten to her, making her feel giddy.

Near the VIP lounge, she playfully tossed a few strands of beads to Timmy. He reached out to catch them with childlike glee. Although he didn't have the energy to chase after the floats like she had, catching beads was part of the Mardi Gras fun, and she didn't want him to miss out because he wasn't feeling strong enough.

Earlier, she had taken him for a short walk, allowing him to catch a few beads of his own from the nearest float. However, his frailty made him tire quickly, so he had to sit back down. Determined to make him happy, she visited each festival snack stall, loading up the coffee table in front of him with an array of delectable treats before taking her walk and catching beads from each float she encountered.

She grinned, seeing he had made a dent in the mountain of goodies she brought. The mélange of scents from the sweets created a heady, delicious cloud that wrapped around her like a warm hug. However, as she looked at Timmy, she noticed the unmistakable longing in his eyes despite the big smile on his face. He wanted to be part of the festive scene unfolding before him.

Her energetic, lively boy was confined by his frailty, and it saddened her. She knew that simply filling him up with tasty food wouldn't bring true happiness. This was a celebration of life, and sitting down and eating wasn't enough. He needed to experience the joy of Mardi Gras through dance, like all the holograms dancing in the streets; like how she had danced the Charleston earlier when the float dedicated to New Orleans Jazz passed by, compelling her to mimic the dancers in flapper dresses as they moved to "Basin Street Blues."

Her poor sick boy needed to dance a little too.

Wobbling towards him, she tripped over a stray strand of beads she must've dropped and nearly face-planted on the cobblestones. Timmy jumped up and caught her, his arms trembled as he tried to support her, his sickly body visibly struggling as he did his best to keep her from falling. She held onto him, steadying herself, touched by his efforts, and laughed at her own clumsiness.

"Why, ain't you just the sweetest li'l boy in the whole wide world?" She pinched his cheek and gave him a hug.

"Maybe you should get some water, have some of the snacks—those beignets are out of this world!" Timmy suggested, rubbing his cheek and then tried to steer her to the couch as she nearly lost her balance again. She waved it off; she did not feel like sitting down yet, and water could wait.

"I still got a heap of drinks left to try, sugar!" Unable to remember the exact number, she held up her hands, displaying all her fingers playfully. "At least this many!" There were still so many flavors to savor, so many moments to cherish at this Mardi Gras celebration, and she wanted Timmy to have just as much fun as she was having.

"Well... I'm glad you're having so much fun; you deserve it," he said, his voice filled with genuine happiness.

"Aww, and you deserve some fun too, my sweet little blue-eyed darlin'." She replied, her voice filled with love. Determined to make this a memorable party, she extended her hand towards him, swaying slightly to the infectious rhythm of the music. "Darlin', dancin' at Mardi Gras is just a must! You gotta do at least one li'l dance to say you've had the full experience, sugar!"

Timmy hesitated. "I don't think I can, Mom. I'm too weak..." he said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"Nonsense," she hiccupped and giggled, then knelt to his level, her fingers fumbling with his hat, trying to straighten it. But no matter how hard she tried, it remained lopsided. "We'll go slow, sugar. I'll help ya every step of the way. I promise, darlin'!"

With gentle persistence, Wanda guided him into the garden, searching for a spacious spot where they could have all the room they needed.

"Alrighty now, darlin', just follow my lead, sugar. We're gonna do this together." she said, her movements exaggerated to accommodate her own lack of balance. She guided Timmy's feet, ensuring his steps were minimal, not straining his sore limbs or draining his limited energy. Her eyes remained fixed on him, watching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

As they danced, their laughter filled the air, mingling with the lively music. Their dance appeared more like a playful, slapstick routine than a traditional one. But through it all, her grip on Timmy remained steady, her support unwavering. Whenever Timmy's steps faltered, she was there, holding him up, ensuring he never felt the weight of his weakness.

Eventually, when exhaustion overtook him, she guided him back to the couch, lightly pinching his cheek as she praised him. "Y'all did just perfect, sugar! I'm so dang proud of ya!"

Timmy rested his head against her shoulder, his eyes closing wearily, but a smile spreading across his face.

"Thanks, that was lots of fun."

"Oh, sugar, we're gonna have so much more fun, you and me. When you're all better, you can come stay in our castle every weekend, and every week we'll try somethin' new and make all sorts of precious first-time memories together. I'll slip into my human disguise, and we'll pick a new country, find us a fine restaurant, and try new things all the time, just you wait!" Her mind raced with a bunch of jumbled, half-thought-out ideas, but they were all sweet and good, her little human son, happy, healthy, and safe by her side.

She turned in her seat to look up at Manuel. "Now, you handsome stud, you, what's the next drink you'd recommend? I'm all ears!" Naturally, being a hologram, he did not respond, and she snickered, nudging him playfully, making his form flicker. "Well, ain't you the strong, silent type, fella. I see how it is!"

"Mom, how about you try one of my mocktails instead; they're really good!" Timmy suggested, tugging on her arm as she tried to select her next drink from the menu.

"No, no, honey, it'll turn into water if I try that, remember?"

"No, that's only if I take some of your drinks, not if you—"

"Ooh, I'll try this one next, 'cause it's got the cutest name; a Mint Tulip, please, my good Manuel!"

"….It's called a Mint Julep," Timmy corrected her with a tiny laugh. She shrugged and took the drink from where it magically appeared on the platter.

"Aw, honey, my name for it's way cuter." She declared and took a liberal sip of her next beverage, a refreshing mixture of bourbon, mint leaves, sugar, and water. "Mmm, it's good!"

"I'm glad you like it; normally you don't care for mint." He smiled and twisted in his seat to make a selection from 'Beatrix'. If she weren't a hologram, she'd probably have to scold him about letting his eyes wander for so long.

"I guess I'll try the cucumber Mint Cooler; that way it'll kinda match what you're having."

"Aw, darlin', that's just precious; let's do a cheers then!" She held up her glass and with a cute little grin, Timmy did cheers with her. He took a sip of his drink and then grabbed a buttermilk drop from the selection of sweets placed in front of him and popped it into his mouth. She reached out to grab one of the rum balls but hesitated; for some reason, the sight of the chocolate coating on the dessert was turning her stomach, so instead she grabbed a mini sweet potato pie.

"Hmm, this is right tasty. I ain't never had sweet potatoes like this before, but darlin', they're just divine. And speakin' of divine—oh, wait a sec, try this—! It's truly scrumptious!" She interrupted her own self to practically shove one of the mini pies into his mouth. "I betcha ain't never tried this flavor before, sugar. It's good, ain't it—? Yes, yes! You an' me, we're gonna try all kinds of new things, darlin'—a lil' mommy an' son foodie adventure every week, just for us!"

He sputtered, choking a little, and took a big gulp of his mint cooler to wash the dessert down before flashing her a smile.

"I'm really looking forward to it, but shouldn't we include Poof and Cosmo, though?"

"Poof's too young, bless his heart, there's too many foods that might upset his lil' tummy 'cause he ain't used to 'em. And Cosmo—" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, bah! He'd just ruin my appetite makin' some silly remark 'bout my weight tryin' to be funny. Besides, he's such a picky eater, always stickin' to the same ol' things. Like that time we went to Greece with one of our past godkids, and I tried to get him to eat Spanakopita, and he kept sayin' it was some kinda spinach pizza—good grief, that's not what it is at all! So, it'll just be you an' me, darlin'. We'll try all sorts of new foods, and I'll encourage ya to taste whatever you're up for. And if there's somethin' you don't like, I'll be happy to finish it for ya; I ain't picky like him."

"Alright, sounds good to me, I'm looking forward to it, Mom," he said, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Why, it's gonna be just wonderful havin' someone to go out and eat with! I can never take Cosmo anywhere fancy-like." Wanda downed her cocktail and asked Manuel for a refill, which was provided immediately and drank just as fast.

Timmy once again offered her a glass of water or one of his mocktails but she declined and requested,"Another Mint Tulip, please! Oh, and as I was sayin', he's just dreadful at restaurants! I try to take us to a nice place, a real fancy place, and before our appetizers even get there, he's got me so red-faced and mortified I wanna crawl under the table! The only place we can eat out without lookin' like a couple of hillbillies is a fast-food joint! And even at McTinkerbell's, he has a tantrum if he don't get the right toy in his Joy meal. Not even Poof—ooh, this one's delish! What d'you think this one's called? Have ya tried this one yet?" Her tirade stopped the moment she grabbed a new dessert from the table.

"…Mom, that's a mini pecan pie…."

She squinted, raising the tart closer to her face; now that she looked more closely, it was a pecan pie. "Oh, well, look at that. Guess you must've tried one o' these before; but not this one—these little minis are just scrumptious. Go on now, try one, try one!"

"Okay, okay…" Timmy laughed and took one of the mini pies. "Yup, it's good."

"Isn't that the best pecan pie y'all ever done had, now?"

"Haha…yeah, that's right!" He laughed aloud, and for the first time in so long, he looked so carefree and happy that she felt her heart skip a beat and a wonderful feeling of relief washed over her.

The nightmare of that awful evening was behind them; the past and the present were hard, but...she'd make sure his future was full of carefree smiles like that one.