(no subject)
Fandom: Fairly Oddparents
Canon or AU: AU
Fic: Blank Space
A/N: This chapter is shorter than usual. I’ve been writing a lot of one fic that I probably won’t post on AO3…and I started another fic that I’m not sure where it’s going.
I’m considering appending that to gauge interest. We shall see.
This is another reminder that this is the *lighter* fanfic. lol The original version of the first scene had Wanda killing someone in self-defense. I thought that was too dark.
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Wanda awoke with a headache that rivaled her last hangover. Groaning, she rolled over and reached for her wand. It wasn’t there. The grogginess fled, replaced by panic. She opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings for Cosmo, Timmy, or Tootie. The plastic floor and walls weren’t promising, and she couldn’t see anyone nearby.
She tried to recall how she’d arrived here, wherever “here” was, and came up blank. Her surroundings had a grainy, saturated quality Wanda associated with comic books. However, it was difficult to follow that thought to its logical conclusion when she couldn’t think past her pounding headache.
Her tail smacked her paws, and Wanda examined herself. She was a dog with a bandana around her neck, meaning she had to be disguised as Ace, Cleft’s dog. That explained a little, but not much.
Pushing herself to her feet, she bumped into iron bars. She stared out through them and realized she was in a cage. The headache was fading, albeit slowly. She could reach for her wand to escape, but that would blow her disguise and threaten Timmy’s secret. Tossing her head and wincing when it throbbed, she thought through her last memories.
Tootie had wished them into the comic book to prevent Wanda and Poof from perishing at the end. Poof shouldn’t have been here, but something about her wish must’ve drawn him from Fairy World and into the issue. Then he’d wound up trapped within a fridge in a dumpster, and she’d almost drowned in muck trying to rescue him.
That was where her memories ended. She reached out to Cosmo mentally, but either the distance was too great, or their connection was weak. One thing was for sure-Cosmo was nowhere nearby. Wanda whimpered; she smelled atrocious, and she was worried about Poof.
Hearing her son’s terrified cries had sent her heart into overdrive. No parent could fail to identify their child’s fear, and Wanda knew that if Poof could have escaped on his own, he would have. Not being able to reach Cosmo was only amplifying her anxiety. She didn’t know how Poof was or if he was okay.
“As a trap, it worked, but it did nothing for the smell,” Spatula Woman groused as she walked into the room and turned on the overhead light. Wanda had to crane her head back to look at her. The villain hoisted Wanda’s cage onto a table and scrutinized her. Wanda growled, baring her teeth, especially when Spatula Woman added insult to injury and slammed Wanda’s cage on the table to jar her.
“Cleft will come looking for you sooner or later. He’ll never guess that you’re in the Crimson Chin’s apartment or that his beloved hero has turned traitor.”
Wanda’s heart lurched. Maybe the Crimson Chin had been replaced by the Nega-chin. Either that or the Crimson Chin was thinking with the wrong part of his body. Given this issue’s high rating, the latter was a definite possibility. (The Crimson Chin wouldn’t be the only male she knew who was thinking that way.)
Desperation prompted her to extend her mental senses toward Cosmo again, and she received nothing. Her mouth dried out.
Cosmo…Poof…
”I wonder how attached Cleft is to you,” Spatula Woman mused. “I’ve already figured that Puppy Poof is your pup. I saw how scared you were when he was in danger.”
She scoffed. “Typical. The Crimson Chin is concerned about his sidekick because he’s a child, and you’re worried about your puppy. Children are so vulnerable.”
Wanda growled. Poof’s yelps replayed in her mind, and her fur stood on end. She didn’t know if she could handle it if Poof wasn’t okay. Her stomach clenched-she’d feel the same if something happened to Timmy. They were her children, and she couldn’t stand the thought of them in peril. It was infuriating that Spatula Woman was using this against her.
”There’s more to you than meets the eye, I’m positive. You and Clefto aren’t normal superhero dogs.”
Spatula Woman frowned, studying Wanda closely. Wanda was still growling, still baring her teeth, and she wished the villain would open her cage so Wanda could bite her. Then, she’d immediately look for her family.
”For one thing, neither of you have a backstory. No one knows where you two came from. For another…”
Spatula Woman gestured toward the back of Wanda’s head.
”Your blood sparkles.”
Wanda choked. She’d never been hurt badly enough in the comics to reveal her blood’s abnormality, nor was she sure it appeared normally. She tried to recall what supernatural creatures existed in the Crimson Chin universe. Timmy would’ve known. She was almost positive fairies weren’t real here, but that didn’t mean much, especially in a what-if universe.
“I can’t risk letting you out, not yet. Not until I’ve set everything in motion.”
Wanda was afraid to find out what she meant. When she closed her eyes, she saw Poof dead and mangled. She whimpered, her tail between her legs. She couldn’t cry as a dog, but she wanted to. She was shaking.
The worst part was that she had to put her faith in the others. Cosmo and Timmy had let her down numerous times in the past six months. Tootie was untested, and as a new character, not to mention barely trained in magic, anything could happen. Wanda didn’t know Chloe; what she knew about Magdalene and Nathaniel could fit inside a thimble.
Poof had to return to Spellementary, where he’d be safe, but Tootie, the only one who could restore him to Fairy World, would have to construct a reasonable explanation for how he’d exited the comic. Tootie wasn’t as good at lying as Timmy, which filled Wanda with dread. Timmy had a lot more experience with keeping secrets than Tootie did.
Spatula Woman left the room and, for a few minutes, Wanda hoped that would be the end of it for a while. Then she returned, accompanied by a gruff, monstrous man who Wanda doubted was entirely human. He was at least six feet tall, with muscles that rivaled Juandissimo’s, and he leered at Wanda, who shrank back in the cage. He had vampire fangs.
“This is my animal handler,” Spatula Woman announced. “He knows how to manage difficult breeds, including superhero dogs.”
Wanda barked, itching for her wand and also itching to bite anything within reach. The man pulled out an electric collar, and Wanda snarled. Her tail stood upright and shook rapidly; she tensed, ready to attack if given the opportunity.
She was not letting the “handler” put that collar on her.
The handler opened the cage, and Wanda sprang out, teeth bared. She went for Spatula Woman, not the handler, because she had enough common sense to know he could counter her. She snapped her jaws close to the woman’s neck but kept the handler in her field of vision. Putting her back to him would be a potentially fatal mistake.
”I don’t think so,” the handler said. His voice was deep and malicious, sending chills down her spine. Wanda responded by sinking her teeth into Spatula Woman’s upper arm. She wouldn’t kill her, not unless she had no other choice, but she wanted to send a message.
“Get that bitch off me!” Spatula Woman yelped and shook her arm desperately to throw her off. It didn’t work. Wanda was darkly amused despite being shaken like she was in a storm.
The handler backhanded Wanda, and Wanda growled, releasing Spatula Woman unwillingly. She landed on her feet and spat out the woman’s noxious blood. With Spatula Woman nursing her wound and looking for a way to force the gash to clot, Wanda had one opponent left. Unfortunately, he was the more dangerous of the two.
He didn’t lunge for her. Instead, he watched her calmly and waited for her to strike. She couldn’t risk getting close enough to bite; he would slam the collar down if she did. Wanda stepped backward, ceding ground and heading toward her escape route--the windows. To break them, she’d need to put her back to the handler, which worried her immensely. He was probably much faster than he looked.
“Come here,” the handler said quietly. “Come on. You’re not getting out of this unscathed, and you know it.”
Wanda bared her teeth and growled, tensing for an attack. The two ignored Spatula Woman’s screaming and complaining in the bathroom. It had faded away due to the more significant threat.
The front door opened, distracting her and the handler. It was the Crimson Chin, who seemed unsurprised to see the handler in the living room. He ran through the living room toward the bathroom when he heard Spatula Woman’s distress.
Wanda followed his gaze and then screamed when the electric collar snapped around her neck. It was so tight that she could barely breathe. The handler chuckled nastily and tied a leash to it. It was the kind that pulled if the dog ventured too far and would constrict the collar further. Wanda glared. She should’ve pegged this guy as sadistic from the beginning.
“Sit, bitch,” the handler ordered. Wanda couldn’t breathe deeply enough to growl, so she settled for glowering. What felt like 100 volts, if not more, coursed through her body, and she whimpered in pain. For the third time, she tried to brush her consciousness against Cosmo’s. She’d reached into the abyss the last two times and discovered nothing.
This time, she encountered a vague fairy-shaped construct in her mind that she could just barely touch.
((Cosmo?)) she gasped.
((Wanda! You’re okay!))
His voice was distant, and she gulped against a lump in her throat. She was about to answer when she realized she hadn’t obeyed the handler. Another 100 volts shot through her, and she whimpered again, tail tucked between her legs. She was shaking and trying to decide if she could bite through the leash and escape. The collar would have to be removed by a human.
((Wanda?))
He was worried. ((You don’t sound okay.))
I’m not, you idiot!
She tried to send it, but it bounced back. The handler grinned wickedly when he electrocuted her. Wanda saw spots before her eyes, and her muscles contracted involuntarily. Slowly, she forced herself into a sitting position. The handler laughed.
“I knew we’d get there eventually,” he said. He bent down and glared at her with icy blue eyes. “You will refer to me as ‘Master '. I know you understand me. You’re not a normal dog, after all.”
Wanda glared, though it was hard to look intimidating when she was in so much pain and could barely move. She considered replying to Cosmo and asking about Poof. It should’ve been the first thing on her mind, not her difficulties.
“Speak.”
You do not want me to speak right now, at least not in a language you’d recognize.
Wanda faltered. She was afraid if she didn’t speak, she’d be electrocuted again. Wary, she backed up rapidly and forced the leash as taut as possible. The mechanism to electrocute her was on the man’s watch, and when she saw him reaching to push it, she flung herself at the windows.
One of three things would happen. One, the leash would hopefully break, and she’d poof away rather than risk getting caught by that damn collar again. The leash would then hit her handler.
Two, the leash would break and then hit her. She didn’t fancy that option.
Three, the leash wouldn’t break, and she’d be electrocuted. She had a ⅓ chance that this would work to her advantage. The odds weren’t in her favor, but they weren’t the worst she’d ever faced. They also weren’t the best (thank you, inner Cosmo, for reminding her.)
The fourth possibility she hadn’t considered was that the handler would retract the leash just when she brushed her nose against the window, sending her flying back toward him. Right before she crashed into his legs, he stepped aside and increased the voltage on her collar.
Wanda howled in pain, and her vision flickered. It felt like every nerve was on fire, and she couldn’t move. She twitched uncontrollably, and her sight was gone, replaced by pitch black with occasional red spots. Her heart felt like it might explode, and she couldn’t hear anything beyond a pounding in her ears. She’d been electrocuted before, but this was different. There was something in the way the handler had keyed in the shock that made it more potent and overrode her usual ability to shake off the pain. Fairies had a higher pain tolerance than humans, and injuring them took a lot more.
The same must’ve been true for superhero animals.
Electric burns spread across her body, and she attempted something she hadn’t done in thousands of years. It was risky, especially without a wand, but she panicked. The chances that she’d find Cosmo by propelling her spirit at him were slim, considering she couldn’t sense his presence, nor did she know how far from the alleyway they’d been from her current location. It wasn’t a spell to be taken lightly, and usually, it wasn’t a spell that could be performed under pressure.
She threw her spirit out to seek him; it would remain tethered to her body unless a supernatural force broke the link. She would worry about that later if there was a later.
She went limp, and her spirit drifted a few inches. The handler electrocuted her again, and her spirit snapped back into her body. Unconsciousness descended, though it fled a few minutes later. What followed was somehow worse.
The handler loomed over her and smiled.
“I knew you could speak,” he sneered. “Who’s Cosmo?”
Wanda whimpered. She couldn’t move; she was at this man’s lack of mercy.
Not to mention, she had to depend on Cosmo’s ability to focus on finding her and trust that he and Timmy wouldn’t get distracted by something or someone else.
She sighed. She was screwed.
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Timmy’s mother was shaking with rage when his father arrived home several hours later. She’d suggested he rent a hotel room until the divorce was finalized, and he’d declined. He insisted that the house was his, and if anyone should rent a hotel room, it should be her for her infidelity. Never mind that she’d been faithful to him their entire marriage-he wouldn’t listen to sense.
She didn’t want Timmy to live in a hotel room; kicking him out of his bedroom on top of everything else seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.
While that remained on her mind, her primary problem was that she’d seen Chloe and Timmy run outside with three strangely colored hounds. Since she usually saw Timmy accompanied by strange colored creatures, she wasn’t surprised. What had bothered her was Timmy’s father’s behavior.
She was waiting for him at the kitchen table.
”What?”
”You know what. That spectacle in front of the Dinklebergs’ house,” she retorted. “You didn’t have to put poor Timmy through that. He’s having a hard enough time as it is.”
”I wanted Sheldon to know what he’d done,” Mr. Turner said stubbornly. He folded his arms across his chest and plopped into the chair opposite her. He was pouting and looked like a recalcitrant child. Ever since he’d discovered Timmy’s paternity, he’d been terrible, especially to Timmy.
“You could have done that without making it public,” she snapped. “Timmy and his friend shouldn’t have had to endure that. Don’t you have any feelings for your son?”
”He’s not my son,” Mr. Turner grumbled. He glared at his wife. “You protected Sheldon for eleven years. Eleven years.”
”I was also protecting Timmy,” she protested. “I knew you wouldn’t take this news well, no matter when I delivered it.”
”So, you were going to keep it from me forever?”
“I could never find a good time to tell you! It’s not like you’ve ever been objective about Sheldon. Or rational.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t have to fling Timmy onto their lawn, either. Stop hurting our son.”
”He’s not my son,” Mr. Turner snapped louder. “He’s part of the enemy.”
”For heaven’s sake-“ she bit off the rest of her sentence and started anew. “He’s a child. He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t choose his parents.
”Don’t you think he would’ve chosen you if he could have?”
Mr. Turner looked sullen. “No. He would’ve chosen Dinkleberg. Too bad Dinkleberg doesn’t want him. It’s something I have in common with him.”
Mrs. Turner let out an explosive breath. She’d missed the last part of that scene. Her heart ached for Timmy. Timmy knew she’d always have his back, but to hear that both his father figure and biological father had repudiated him had to be killing him.
After she was done here, she’d check on Timmy. Maybe he’d want to talk. He hadn’t shown any inclination toward it, but perhaps he needed time to process it.
“Timmy is an innocent child,” she snapped. “He didn’t do anything to deserve your vitriol. I understand that you’re not happy about how things fell out-“
She ignored his derisive snort.
”-but do not take it out on him. He’s already heard you say you wish he’d never been born and complain about how expensive he is. No child should feel unwanted or like a burden.”
Mr. Turner said nothing. She wondered whether she’d gotten through or if he would stonewall her. It wouldn’t surprise her if this argument, like all the others, failed to penetrate that thick skull. He acted like a spurned child instead of an adult, concentrating his frustration and anger on Timmy.
She sighed and pinched her nose bridge. “You can be angry at me all you want. But leave Timmy out of this. No matter how you feel, he doesn’t deserve verbal abuse. He loves you, even if you claim you no longer love him.”
Mr. Turner looked at the coffee pot to avoid her eyes. She rose from the table and scowled.
”I’m going to talk to him,” she said, and her eyes narrowed. “If you feel like behaving yourself, I recommend you speak with him, too. You know, deep down, that this isn’t right. He’s a good kid. He can’t help an accident of birth.”
”Sure he can,” Mr. Turner muttered darkly. He glared back. “You wanted Sheldon to be his father more than me. That’s what happened.”
Mrs. Turner wanted to throw crockery at her husband’s head. “That’s not how that works, and you know it!
“Although, right now, I wish I’d had him via IV instead of having anything to do with you or Sheldon! At least then, I’d still have him, and I wouldn’t have to deal with your insane, borderline psychotic jealousy.”
Mr. Turner said nothing, and she snarled, flinging a dish towel on the table. She’d intended to do the dishes when she’d overheard the altercation next door. Since then, the dishes had slipped her mind. Timmy’s ADHD came from both parents, albeit manifested differently.
She pushed away from the table and resisted the strong temptation to flip him off.
“I suppose you’re off to whatever you’ve been doing instead of staying in this house,” she snapped. “I’ll see you whenever.
”Just remember that Timmy loves you. I hope you’re happy with how you treat him because I’m not. I bet you aren’t either.”
Scoffing, she started up the stairs and then stopped, knocking at Timmy’s door.
”Timmy? Honey? Are you in the mood to talk?” she called.
There was no response. Frowning, reminding herself that Timmy having a girl in his room meant little when they were only eleven, she knocked again.
“Timmy? Are you ignoring me? Young man, that isn’t very mature.”
She facepalmed. Like father, like son.
“I’m respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as your mother by coming in anyway!”
She shouldered the door open and then gawked. The room was empty. The window was locked. He could not have left, yet the bathroom was open and vacant. Frowning, she scanned the room.
Short of being able to teleport himself, he and Chloe should still be here. Mrs. Turner frowned. By all accounts, this made no sense.
He would have had to walk past her to exit, too.
Grumbling, she returned downstairs to fetch her cell phone and call him. He had a lot of explaining to do.
As she snagged her cell phone off a table in the living room, she realized Mr. Turner hadn’t budged from the kitchen table.
She wanted to bite his head off, but his expression was curious. He looked thoughtful.
It was probably best to let him think whatever it was through-he didn’t do well when his thoughts were interrupted. Besides, having him consider his actions first and respond was highly unusual. She should see what came of this.
She didn’t tell him that Timmy was missing. She considered it, but she felt defensive. If she could shield Timmy from further trauma, she would.
Grimacing, she selected his number and let the phone ring.
--------
This shouldn’t be possible. Evidently, a what-if edition broke all rules, including the connection between the outside world and the comic book universe. Timmy watched Tootie attempt a homing spell while Magdalene and Nathaniel tried to help without being obvious. Cosmo, meanwhile, had his head between his paws and was flat out on the pavement. Poof had regained consciousness and nudged his father.
Poof whimpered, clearly wondering where Wanda was.
He wasn’t the only one. Timmy felt sick when he thought about his godmother, which he didn’t care to repeat to Cosmo. Besides, Cosmo looked like he had food poisoning, so he was probably in the same boat.
Timmy’s phone buzzed, and he discovered he had pockets in his costume, which he couldn’t remember existed before. He also was almost positive he hadn’t brought his phone into the comic, yet here it was.
“Hello?” he said. He’d been tempted to ignore it, but his mom’s number had popped up. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I don’t care if you’re in the middle of rocket surgery,” his mother snapped. Timmy opened his mouth, considered correcting her, and decided it wasn’t worth the effort. (Jimmy Neutron would probably have had choice words about Timmy’s mother’s malapropism.)
“This could be a matter of life and death,” he protested. “I can’t leave.”
“You’re eleven,” his mother said flatly. “Nothing is a matter of life and death. How dare you magically leave the house without notice or permission and act like whatever you’re doing is more important.”
“It is more important,” he said, groaning and facepalming. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“No, not okay, mister!” she snapped. “Where are you? Who are you with? In what world do you think it’s appropriate to sass your mother?”
Tootie stood beside a glowing pink circle. Chloe, Nathaniel, and Magdalene watched her intently. Cosmo and Poof watched Timmy. Cosmo cocked his head in curiosity; Timmy thought the fairies had superior hearing to humans, which might explain how they’d overheard things they shouldn’t.
“Uh, in Chincinatti? Mom, I’m fine. I’ll call you back later when things are…”
He trailed off. Tootie shook her head. She’d missed a step. Growling, she retraced the last few incantations she’d done for the spell, shook her wand like she intended to break it, and then whooped. Pink fairy dust rained down in the circle. An image appeared in midair.
“The Crimson Chin’s apartment?” Timmy exclaimed. “Why would she be there?”
“Why are you talking about comic books now, of all times?” his mother demanded. “I want you home--”
“Sorry, Mom. Love you. Bye!”
Then he hung up and shut his phone off. He was in for a world of trouble when he returned to Dimmsdale, but he’d worry about that later. That was a problem for future Timmy.
“Why would Ace be in the Crimson Chin’s apartment?” Chloe asked. “I know Spatula Woman’s involved, but…”
She trailed off. “Where did Katalina, Eartha, and West go?”
“Oh, no, not more missing people,” he groaned, facepalming. Great, now he had his godmother and his mother to worry about. He wanted to trust Tootie would help Wanda instead of aiding Spatula Woman, but his belief in Tootie only went so far.
Poof couldn’t rouse Cosmo; Cosmo wasn’t asleep but looked too depressed to move. Timmy grimaced.
“Maybe we should consider why Spatula Woman is at the Crimson Chin’s apartment,” Chloe suggested. “That way, we can construct a battle plan for handling her.”
Timmy reddened. He had a vague idea of what Spatula Woman had been doing, but he wasn’t about to out himself by saying anything. Besides, his only knowledge came from his parents. Wanda had stopped Cosmo before he launched into a “wands and the wings” speech.
Choe put her hands on her hips. “You already know, don’t you?”
Timmy mumbled, “They were having sex.”
Chloe went scarlet, too. “Oh!”
They averted their gazes. Poof looked at them curiously, but his main focus was Cosmo’s despondency. Poof kept nuzzling and nudging his father to no avail. Timmy thought that short of a wish, the only thing that would get Cosmo up would be for Wanda to appear nearby.
Chloe, still flushed, said, “That answers one question, but it doesn’t answer why he’d be in a relationship with his sworn enemy.”
Timmy muttered to the ground, “She’s pretty hot. Not that I was looking.”
Cosmo snorted, opening his eyes, then stared at the ground again. His tail was tucked between his legs. Poof whined, poking Cosmo in the face with his snout.
“So…” Timmy said, frowning and trying to think it through. “The Crimson Chin is hooking up with one of his worst enemies, Spatula Woman. She’s staying at his apartment. He knows what she’s doing, which means he must approve.”
Timmy shuddered. His expression fell. “Does that mean that he’s fallen to evil?”
“It’s a what-if comic,” Chloe said, touching his shoulder. “It’s possible, but don’t despair yet. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for everything.”
Timmy glared. “You’re the one who’s sure, then.”
“I’m sure I don’t know anything,” Cosmo said without his usual ebullience. Reluctantly, because Poof kept nudging him, Cosmo rose and shook himself off. His tail remained tucked between his legs.
“We’ll need a plan for getting in there,” Chloe mused.
“Unless we lure them into a trap?” Timmy suggested. He frowned, shaking his head. “That’ll never work. I’m not putting Clefto and Poof in danger to save Ace.”
“I’ll do it!” Cosmo said. When Timmy and Chloe exchanged exasperated looks, Cosmo added, “I have to prove I still love her somehow, don’t I? What’s more romantic than jumping into harm’s way?”
“What’s more idiotic than jumping into harm’s way?” Timmy muttered, facepalming.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Chloe said.
“If you’re going to be stupid, at least leave Poof with us,” Timmy said, scowling. “I don’t want him trapped in another fridge.”
Poof whimpered, nudging Timmy’s leg. In a quiet voice, since he wasn’t supposed to be able to talk, he whispered, “Mama?”
“Cosmo shouldn’t risk his life without a plan,” Chloe protested. “That’s a death wish.”
“Hey, I’m all about wishes!” Cosmo said, puffing out his chest proudly. Timmy facepalmed again harder.
“Not so loud,” he snapped. “Also, pretty sure death wishes are against Da Rules.”
“That’s if you make them,” Cosmo said. He whimpered. “I know they’re doing something terrible to her. I have to save her and prove myself.”
“You should let us help,” Chloe argued. “Don’t run around half-cocked.”
Timmy and Cosmo snickered. Poof looked confused, and Chloe facepalmed, groaning.
“It’s an expression!” she snapped. “No wonder Wanda gets so annoyed at you two.”
That destroyed any further impulses toward laughter. Feeling ashamed of himself, Timmy stared at the dirty asphalt beneath his sneakers. Cosmo lapped at muddy water, pulled a face, and spat it out. Timmy thought it might’ve been mud, but maybe it was just mud-colored.
“Anyway,” Chloe said, slightly abashed, “we need a battle plan. I know you want to save Wanda, but it won’t help if you get captured, too.”
“Like you did when you tried to fight Crocker,” Timmy said.
“I don’t remember that,” Cosmo said.
“That’s because I wiped the timeline out of existence,” Timmy said quietly. “Not the point. Chloe’s right. We need a strategy to get in and out without anyone getting hurt or captured again.”
Groaning, Timmy looked at Chloe.
“You’re the only smart one left,” he said. “You’ve gotta help us.”
“I’m flattered…and a little disturbed,” Chloe said. “What do you two do when Wanda’s gone normally?”
“Uh, make stupid wishes and hope she can fix them when she returns?” Timmy said.
“I can also see why Jorgen didn’t want Cosmo godparenting alone,” Chloe muttered, shaking her head. “You’re a threat to society.”
“Only on days ending in ‘y!’” Cosmo said.
“If you’re done insulting us, what did you have in mind?” Timmy said tersely.
“The problem is that you know way more about the Crimson Chin than I do,” she said. “I’m not much for superheroes and superpowers.”
Timmy’s jaw dropped. “How can you not be…what is wrong with you?”
He shook her for good measure and then sniffed. It smelled like rotten food and disgusting bodily fluids in the alley. “All in favor of leaving and finding somewhere better to talk?”
“Agreed,” Chloe, Cosmo, and Poof said. Chloe could hold her nose; Cosmo and Poof didn’t have that option. Their senses were also stronger than humans. Cosmo had probably been too depressed to care, and Poof had been too worried about Cosmo to notice.
“We can strategize while we walk,” Chloe said. “Where are we going, anyway?”
Timmy frowned, mulling it over. “We can’t go to the Hall of Friendship because if the Crimson Chin is compromised, there’s no saying whether the other heroes are, too. An arcade, I guess. I hope those things exist here. I have no idea how different this universe is besides the Crimson Chin hooking up with Spatula Woman.”
“Maybe that was something you should’ve considered before jumping the gun,” Chloe said.
“Oh, Timmy does that all the time!” Cosmo said. “He never learns!”
“Whose side are you on?” Timmy snapped at his godfather.
“The side that makes Wanda love me again,” Cosmo said.
“She never stopped,” Timmy grumbled.
Cosmo stared at the torn and ripped-up asphalt. There were cracks and holes in the pavement galore; this wasn’t a good area of town. They’d be better off leaving anyway, lest Cleft be forced to fight when he was already distracted. Besides, if CC had turned evil, there was no telling what side Cleft was supposed to be on in this issue. He didn’t want to find out the hard way when outnumbered and outgunned. (Metaphorically speaking, for that last one. He hoped.)
It was a what-if issue. Anything could happen.
He crossed his fingers that it was only in the comic book where things were so volatile.
--------------------------
Timmy’s father sat at the kitchen table after his mother left. He’d overheard her conversation with Timmy, though it hadn’t clicked yet. She was right--he was irrational when it came to the Dinklebergs. He’d spent his life pining for her, and to know that Sheldon had won one last round against him was infuriating.
He couldn’t think of Timmy as his son after that. Timmy was the spawn of evil.
Or so he wanted to think.
He couldn’t pretend seeing Timmy’s hurt expression hadn’t bothered him, too. Or that he didn’t feel guilty lashing out at him.
It was too soon to consider reconciling if that was possible. That seemed like a pretty big “if.”
Timmy was MIA. In the past, he’d be alarmed. Now, Mr. Turner was neutral. Timmy would be fine. He always was. And if he wasn’t, well…
Mr. Turner didn’t know. He wasn’t about to apologize. He needed distance from his family and this house.
Without looking at his wife, he left the house again to find somewhere to think. Mrs. Turner sighed as he shut the door. For a brief minute, he halted, reconsidering. He was on the front doorstep, and his key was in the lock. Removing the key and walking back into the house would be easy. Maybe have a civil conversation with her for the first time in months.
He saw Timmy’s stricken face.
It was rapidly replaced by Dinkleberg’s sneer.
Mr. Turner left the house. He considered, not for the first time, never coming back.