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Second Chances	By : ZombieWithANoose Category: 1 through F > Drop Dead Fred Views: 3130 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We don't own Drop Dead Fred and are not making any profit/money off of this.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Authors’ Notes:
zombierose3: I'm SO sorry I took forever to edit this! I'm getting myself in gear to get the rest posted ASAP. For those who waited patiently, I hope it was worth the wait and thank you so much to all the silent readers, reviewers, and the people who favorited. You're all awesome and those who recently poked me for more chapters on Tumblr and fanfiction.net, I dedicate this to you because otherwise I'd still be sitting on my butt. Please read and review. XOXO
Halo4anoose: Actually blame me, I’m a horrible person for not being motivated. I was distracted by other fandom penises. Those penises know who they belong to. My fandom penis obsession may actually be a problem, and they say the first step to healing is admitting you have an addiction. Strange place for me to begin the healing process, but hey, gotta start somewhere… the struggle is real people!
Disclaimer: We still don’t own Drop Dead Fred and we're not making a single profit off of this.

Chapter Two
Dealing with Devils

Polly Cronin entered the halls of Abbott Northwestern Hospital, dressed in black and reeking of the six cigarettes she'd smoked on the drive over. The seventh in her anxiety-fueled chain rested between her thumb and forefinger, drawing the gaze of the building’s elderly security guard. His disapproving growl immediately shook Polly from her stupor.
“You need to either put that out or go outside,” he said, standing from behind the desk.
“Excuse me?” Polly stared, confusion highlighted by annoyance etched on her face. It wasn’t until her trembling hand lifted the item in question to her lips that she realized what she’d done, and Polly visibly flinched at her carelessness.
“Oh…” She faltered, noticing the handful of onlookers glaring with disapproval. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” Her expression held little remorse, however, as she hurried outside for the nearest ashtray to extinguish the cause of her embarrassment.
This day just continued to grow worse…
When Mickey Bunce had phoned about Elizabeth's accident Polly's first thoughts had been that her daughter had masterminded some sick prank to punish her again, but a quick call to confirm with the hospital had proven her wrong. From then on, she'd cancelled all appointments regarding her brother's estate, phoned both Nigel and Charles, and rushed down to the hospital after rekindling her old smoking habit.
"I swear, Elizabeth, one day you're going to succeed in killing me," she whispered as she checked her watch. Nigel and Charles were probably still on their way, which left this whole nightmare solely in her hands.
Breathing deep and smoothing the fabric of her dress, Polly strode back inside the hospital and avoided all eye contact as she hurried to her destination. Several long corridors later and she found the two large doors leading to the intensive care unit.
Her footsteps immediately slowed, a lead-like weight overtaking her body. She hadn't expected to find it so soon, but then the past hour had been nothing but a blur. She pushed through the doors. The nurse's station was just ahead.
Clearing her throat, Polly approached the blonde-haired nurse seated on the other side. “Excuse me," she said. "I'm Elizabeth Cronin's mother. Could you please tell me which room she's in?”
"Of course." The young woman swiveled in her chair, grabbing a chart from the wall hook at her left and flipping through the first few pages. "She's in room ten, but..." The nurse paused as she finished reading over the notes. “I'm afraid the doctor isn't allowing visitors just yet."
"And why not?" Polly asked, her brows narrowing with sudden impatience.
The nurse shifted uncomfortably. "He's awaiting the results of a few more tests–”
"And how long will that take?"
"I don't know, but–"
"Then what can you tell me about my daughter's condition now?" Polly leaned against the countertop, trying to get a peek at the open chart.
"I'm sorry," the nurse answered, flipping the chart shut with the flick of her wrist, "but you'll have to wait and speak with the doctor about that." Her voice was firm and her eyes gave off a warning. "If you'll just have a seat, I'll tell him you've arrived." She motioned toward the waiting area as she picked up the phone to page the doctor.
“Alright... Thank you.” Polly feigned a smile, which twisted into a sneer as she turned for the waiting area. So much for that, she thought, but a familiar face ahead quickly refocused her attention. “Mickey Bunce?”
The man in question looked up from his seat, a look of anguish seizing his features as he recognized Polly Cronin. "Yes, Ma'am," he answered quietly. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
“I did the best I could under the circumstances. This is, after all, the furthest hospital from my house; I’m not very familiar with the area.” She paused, but not long enough to allow Mickey a response. “I tried speaking with the nurse; she couldn’t tell me a damn thing.”
Her gaze skated back toward the nurse’s station with disdain as she took up an empty seat by the windows. “I’m worried sick and nobody can give me any answers. She’s been here over an hour. How is it they can’t tell me something?” Polly felt her head beginning to throb and she exhaled in momentary defeat.
Looking now toward Mickey, she straightened in her chair. “Tell me what happened. How bad… was the accident?”
Mickey rubbed his hands over his face at that question. He hadn’t expected to relive the horrific accident so soon. Though it was all he could think about for the past hour, the words to describe it still eluded him; the shock almost too great.
“She, she ran out into the street for her car. She was trying to stop an officer from writing her a ticket…” Mickey took a deep breath and steeled himself for the next part. “A… a truck – The man, he was drunk, and driving SO fast… He hit her. Head on.”
Polly’s hands gripped the armrests to her chair, her headache now overshadowed by the gut-wrenching sickness seeded in her stomach.
This was much worse than she had expected.
"I don’t believe it… All for a parking ticket?” Polly’s mouth remained agape as she struggled to process this absurd cause for her daughter’s condition. It didn’t seem real. How could something like this happen?
“Did… did they catch the man responsible?” she finally managed to ask. “Do you know if she’s awake?"
Mickey tried his best to give Polly as much information as he could, while his daughter sat alone across the waiting area…

From the corner, Natalie fended off tears and watched the hallway for any signs of Drop Dead Fred. He’d left a while ago in search of Lizzie’s room, but not before making her promise to stay strong for him until he got back.
So far, Natalie didn't think she was doing a very good job.
She was scared, her dad kept ignoring her, and the room was cold with a funny smell. All she wanted was to go home, back to the way things were suppose to be, back to when her parents were still together so none of this would have happened. Then Lizzie and everything would be okay. Forever.
A sudden flash of green from down the hall stabilized her emotions and she watched as Fred hurried toward her to take her hand. The sad expression on his face didn’t go unnoticed by Natalie and she felt the lump in her throat grow ten times bigger.

Fred tightly gripped the little girl's hand. His mind seemed to be going a mile a minute as the situation before him was unprecedented concerning his abilities.
Over the years, he had dealt with numerous troubled children— it was his specialty— but none of them had ever been witness to an event so traumatic.
Well okay, perhaps that’s just a bit overstated, he thought to himself. She hadn’t actually seen the accident firsthand, but she’d certainly been dragged through the emotional ringer.
Fred found himself at a loss for words; his inner turmoil bubbling over inside his mind as he desperately tried not to show Natalie how upset he was. One of his best friends lay seriously injured, but his responsibilities to his new charge came first.
This fact, however, didn't squelch the battle raging between his loyalties and the emotions attached, which savagely flung him from the child in front of him to the broken woman down the hall. A wave of defeat washed over him as he silently endured his breaking heart.
“She's going to be fine, Natalie. She'll be okay after she takes a nap." Fred barely noticed her response as his attention became ensnared by Fartpants and the Megabeast’s conversation…

"They arrested the guy,” Mickey said, continuing on goal to tell Polly everything. “He was drunk, that’s all I know about him, but… Lizzie…" His voice collapsed, a small sniffle escaping him as he tried hard not to break down in front of Lizzie's mother. "Lizzie wasn't moving, and there was so... so much blood… I even think I could see bones…" Things seemed to finally sink in and a single tear rolled down Mickey’s cheek. "The first responders kept looking at one another, just shaking their heads. They wouldn't tell me anything when they took her away— only that they were bringing her here."
Polly’s composure broke, tears welling in her eyes as her body visibly shook over the graphic imagery lighting in her mind. She wound her arms tightly around herself in an effort to prevent a total collapse. "This is unreal," she whispered, falling silent under the weight of shock, but her mind quickly resumed by twisting around in typical fashion.
If Elizabeth were this badly injured she would need someone to take care of her… She’d need her again. This was not a tragedy, but an opportunity; a gift for them both.
Polly’s heart sped as plans to relocate Elizabeth from that dreadful apartment back to her old room ran rampant through her mind. Her daughter’s accident would be an end to her loneliness. There was just one problem: the financial costs of all this would be excruciating…
"I'm calling my lawyer and taking that man for everything he's got. When I'm through with him he'll be begging for the death penalty.” She took a much needed breath and started digging through her purse for a pen and paper.
“I can’t help but wonder though,” she continued, “how Elizabeth could’ve been so stupid. Crossing the street like that? That could severely hurt our case.” Polly exhaled. “God, what if this is my fault? I tried and tried to teach her how to cross the street, but did she ever listen?”
About as much as she did to everything else I ever told her, she thought.
Exasperated, Polly gave up searching her bag and grabbed her head. "I swear I’ve never needed an Aspirin so desperately in my life. It’s so infuriating. If she’d only listened… That girl is so selfish."
Mickey stared at Polly in complete disbelief. Apparently the stress of the accident had started to mess with his hearing. "Excuse me?"
"Well I’m sure you know. She's never listened to anyone. What sane adult gets so careless they step in front of a moving vehicle to avoid a ticket? This is just like Elizabeth. I swear she must have gotten this behavior from my brother." Polly looked at her watch. "Where is that doctor?"

Mickey was completely at a loss for words as he watched the crass woman stalk the hallway.

Like Mickey, Fred was speechless. He actually thought his tongue had seized up and died from the shock. However, he had a number of ideas for other types of responses he’d love to give…
Bloody hell. He knew the Megabeast was mean, but he’d never thought she could be this heartless. Someone could’ve given her an award for that performance, and if they had Fred knew right where he wanted to stick it.
He suddenly gripped Natalie’s hand tighter as his anger began to boil to the surface.
“Fred?” she whispered, the pressure of his hold beginning to hurt.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” he answered, still glaring over at the Megabeast, completely oblivious to everything else.
Natalie winced and tried to pull her hand back before she gave up and hit him with the other one. To her relief, the move shook him out of his daze and the grip upon her little fingers immediately released.
"I don’t believe you,” she told him.
Fred nearly convulsed. “What? Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t look so upset if it was true.” Tears filled her eyes as her bottom lip began to violently shake. “You were scared when you came out of Lizzie’s room. I saw it.”
Fred closed his eyes and took another breath. He couldn't break down, and most certainly not in front of Natalie. His emotions were already putting enough of a strain on the little girl. He needed to do something to get both their minds off things, and his gaze swung over to the two, now bickering adults.
Judging by the incredulous expression upon Mickey’s girl-face, Fred would have wagered all the mud pies in the world that Polly had just said something even more repulsive, yet Oscar-worthy about Lizzie.
"The only thing I'm scared of is that evil witch over there talking to your dad."
Natalie glanced at Polly and fear knotted in her stomach. "She's really an evil witch? H-how do you know?” she asked, turning back to her friend.
“Simple.” Fred smiled. “I can smell her. She smells like mothballs and dead fish."
Natalie’s jaw dropped open and she worriedly looked at her father. "But what if she puts a spell on my dad?"
Fred followed her gaze. Mickey’s girl-face looked like it had been slapped, and was right in sync with the venomous scowl worn by Polly. Watching as Mickey’s expression dissolved from disbelief to anger, an idea popped into Fred’s head.
"Your dad’s fine," he answered with a nod in Mickey's direction. "See? He's standing his ground and getting angry. The witch can't cast her spells on him when he's mad." Natalie scooted closer and Fred noticed he had her full attention now, her eyes never wavering from his face. A small amount of guilt filled him for what he had to do next, but he stamped down his emotions to carry on with his idea.
Giving the little girl a small frown, he said, "But Lizzie, she's in danger. You see, she's asleep, so she can't guard herself from the witch's evil-doings."
Natalie's eyes rounded wider. “Then what're we gonna do?" She bit her lip with obvious anticipation. "Maybe you can protect her? Or what if you kiss her, Fred, so she’ll wake up?” Her posture straightened from excitement and she beamed at him, full of hope.
Smiling, that’s a good sign. Think I’ve got her on board.
Fred immediately made a face as if he had smelled something putrid. "EWWW! No! Kissing?! Kissing is for GIRLS!" He jumped from his seat and pretended to retch all over the floor. "Kissing? BLEH! That's DIS-GUS-TING!" He spat and flung himself around to stand like a gallant knight in front of Natalie. "I'm a fighter, not a lover! I slay three-headed megabeasts for breakfast!"
Natalie’s sides ached from all her laughter. "Can I watch you slay one?" she asked.
Got her.
Fred cupped his chin, giving himself the air of a deep thinker. "It's quite messy you know. They shriek a lot and spew green slime that smells like feet. Not sure if you wanna get in the middle of that." He looked down the hall towards Lizzie's room.
Here goes nothing, he thought.
So… do you think I should go stand guard?” he asked, motioning toward Lizzie’s room. Natalie looked back at him with uncertainty.
“But what do I do while you’re gone? What if the evil witch tries to cast a spell on me?”
Fred took a long look at Polly. She'd done such a good job at upsetting Mickey that he was on his feet with his finger in her face.
About time, Fred thought, taking a moment to listen in on the two adults.

"Seriously, lady! Do you even have a heart? That's your daughter in there and all you can do is say that she's done nothing but inconvenience you all day?!"
Polly's eyes flashed. "I'd get that finger out of my face if I were you. She's my daughter and I know her a lot better than you. My only brother just died and now I have to deal with this. Do you think I'm feeling very stable right now? I should sue you for negligence! After all, if it happened at your house then how come you didn't do anything to stop it?"
"Lady, you are out of your mind! I can't... I can't believe you have the audacity to even try and sue me! Besides, she was hit in the street IN FRONT of my house!” Mickey took a breath and continued before Polly could get a word in edgewise. “You should be concentrating on your daughter, not trying to make yourself feel better by suing the pants off of anyone who was there at the accident! Why don't you sue the cop that was writing her the ticket as well?! I think that about covers everyone involved, unless you also want to sue the crowd of onlookers at the scene of the accident!"
Polly gasped at Mickey. "How DARE you!"

Fred winced as the shouting got louder. Well, while I hate the bastard, at least he can spit enough rage at that bitch for the both of us, he thought. But they're both idiots. If either of them actually cared about Lizzie, they'd be in her room with her right now.
“I don't think you have anything to worry about. Looks like the witch has her claws full." Fred placed his hands on Natalie's shoulders. "Think you can be brave and sit out here while I go protect the damsel in distress?"
With uncertainty, Natalie looked again at the adults, but the way her father shouted at the witch already had her feeling better inside. "Yeah, I can do that,” she said with a grin, “but I still think Lizzie’d wake up faster if you just kissed her!" She puckered up her lips and made smooching sounds at Fred, who immediately went into a full body spasm as if the word were some sort of poison.
"I'm gonna be sick!" he cried as he flailed like a dying man, making Natalie’s laughter grow. Fred reached out and tickled the little girl's ribs. "You keep talking about kissing I'm gonna to have to tickle you to cure myself!"
Natalie squealed and futilely writhed to evade his fingers. "Okay, okay! I'll stop! I promise!"
"Right! You'd better!" Fred replied. He straightened and gave Natalie a final look. "You stay here. I'm gonna go guard Lizzie's room."
"Alright,” she said.
Meanwhile, Polly was on a tangent. "My daughter got a ticket while parked on YOUR street. I think given these circumstances and the GALL you have to speak to me like that, you should be paying for it. If she could’ve parked in your driveway like a normal, WELCOME guest, this wouldn't have happened."
"You know something? You're nothing but a conceited BITCH!" Mickey screamed back.
Fred walked by right as Mickey pushed himself in Polly's face. "Tell her how it is, mate!" he said, leaning in at Polly with him. "She's not just a bitch, but a MEGABITCH!” he added, before turning on his heels.
Don’t back down, Fartpants, he prayed as he stalked down the hallway like a man on a mission. Mickey’s shouts followed as the ‘big girl’ finally became as belligerent as the woman he was shouting at.
"Why don't you go park across the street from my house, maybe we'll all be lucky and you'll get ran over by a truck as well. Too bad it didn't happen to YOU instead!" Mickey’s face turned varying shades of red as his anger continued to spiral out of control.
Polly gasped for all the hospital to hear. "Are you threatening me?" She turned and started shouting into the ICU. "Did everyone HEAR that?! This man has just threatened my life!"
Fred ducked into Lizzie's room as two security guards made their way down the hall toward the arguing adults.
"Well, Fartpants can be a man when he tries," he mumbled to himself and crept up to the curtain surrounding Lizzie's bed, suddenly feeling very nervous about what he was fixing to find.
When he had found the room earlier, he could only snatch a few quick glances at the woman lying the in the bed. Too many nurses had obstructed his view at the time and the only thing Fred had remotely recognized as Lizzie was the dark brown hair striking out in contrast to the white sheets and pillows.
"She's fine," he said, speaking aloud in an attempt to convince himself. "Snotface is tough. She put up with that beast of a mother for years and survived. A truck has nothing on that crazy, old witch."

Closing his eyes, Fred took a deep breath and forced his head around the curtain. He braced himself for the worst, but a knot twisted inside his stomach as if it already knew something he did not. Daring to look, Fred opened his eyes and stepped into a waking nightmare.
Lizzie lay before him, hooked to various monitors and strange machines which blipped and beeped at different intervals. Tubes seemed to come from everywhere, one reaching deep into her nostril as the rest pumped fluids into the veins of her arm. A breathing apparatus embedded another tube into her throat and the hiss of the machine as it forced air to Lizzie’s lungs caused Fred to gasp and grip the curtains for balance.
Fred stood in a trance as his eyes roamed over Lizzie's body. "’Lisbeth?" he called out, his voice hitching in his throat. His best friend was nearly unrecognizable and he was in such a shock he couldn’t even feel his own body was shaking.
Contusions and stitched up gashes marred Lizzie’s now even paler and swollen face. The blood he remembered from earlier had been wiped away, but it remained so vivid in his mind he swore he could almost still see it upon her skin. The knot from his stomach now reached to his throat and Fred shivered as another hiss sounded from that awful machine boring into his friend.
“She’s fine…” he whispered to himself, barely able to speak the words. Gently he reached out and touched one of the casts covering Lizzie’s arms and trailed his fingers to the matching set upon her legs. The cold, hard material was like an anathema to him and he snatched his hand away just as Lizzie’s doctor entered the room.

The man grimaced, glancing between monitors and charts while writing illegible notes onto his clipboard, completely unaware of the imaginary presence watching his every move. "Doesn't look like she's going to be able to breathe on her own," the doctor mumbled, tapping his pen against the top of the chart before adding another notation.
A blonde-haired nurse traipsed into the room behind him. "Just a warning, the mother is outside waiting to speak with you," she said, injecting a prescription into Lizzie’s IV.
"If it’s that crazy woman out there trying to sue everyone, have her wait until I’m done. I’ll send for her in for a few minutes. I just need to go over this chart again to make sure I didn’t miss anything. God forbid if I have to call legal… again." He sighed.
"Legal? AGAIN?” Fred leaned over to peer at the doctor's chart and his brow furrowed in confusion at all the medical terms. “What's that mean?" he asked, pointing at the clipboard. "Someone had better be doing something to make her better!" He knew no one could hear him, but going through the motions was cathartic to his nervousness.
The nurse stepped out of the room only to find herself face-to-face with Mrs. Cronin, who pushed her way inside the room with a scowl on her face.
“Lord, give me strength,” the doctor muttered.
Fred snorted. “You're gonna need more than divine intervention to deal with her.”
As if on cue, Polly clutched her heart in dramatic display and practically flung herself passed the nurse’s attempts to stop her. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed, her hands sliding to cover her gaping mouth. The doctor nodded for his nurse to make her escape.
“Is she going to be alright?” Polly asked.
“You’re the mother, I presume?”
“Yes, I am,” she answered, glancing at the name embroidered on his white coat, “Doctor Baird, I’d like some answers about my daughter’s condition.”
The younger man looked back at her with practiced sympathy. "I'm afraid your daughter’s in very bad shape. She's got broken ribs, broken arms and legs, two punctured lungs, multiple contusions and lacerations, internal bleeding, a cracked skull with encephalitis of the brain, and her vital and brainwave signs aren’t promising. We've also had to revive her twice, and her lungs have collapsed three times, once before even making it to the hospital.” Doctor Baird paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in with the stricken woman. When she didn’t offer any comments or questions, he proceeded.
“I'm sorry to say that right now, this machine is the only thing keeping her alive, and even if she did wake up, the amount of times we've brought her back might have had detrimental effects to her cognitive function and quality of life."
Polly was stunned and openly gaped at the doctor. "Are you saying my daughter... that... that there's nothing you can do for her?"

Fred zeroed in on the woman's face and noticed that there were unshed tears in her eyes, but the doctor’s voice stole back his attention.
“I'm saying that you might want to consider what's best at this point for both her and your family."
Fred felt his heart plummet. The long list of injuries the doctor had rattled off had made his head spin. He wasn't entirely sure what the man was trying to get at, but by the look on everyone's faces the situation with Lizzie was extremely bleak.
"You're suggesting I pull the plug?" asked Polly.
Doctor Baird pursed his lips together. "I can't make you do that, but in this case, yes, I would gravely consider it.”
Fred gave Polly a confused look. "Pull the plug? Which plug are you gonna pull?" He took another look at Lizzie and all the contraptions she was hooked up to. "Will plug-pulling make her better?” He leaned over and started inspecting each one. "Hey, Megabitch! You’ve got a red cord, two black cords, and a grey cord." He bent down further and plucked up the red one. "I think you should pull out this one. Lizzie hates the color red; makes sense to me!" His gaze moved back to Polly just in time to watch the color drain from her face.
"This is a mother's worst nightmare..." she whispered. "You never think your child is going to die before you, and— You expect me to make that decision? To just pull the plug and let her go?" Tears broke loose from her eyes at the possibility of losing her only child; the only person she had left in her life. “This isn’t suppose to happen this way… She’s, she’s not suppose to leave me.”
Doctor Baird placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you want I can have a grief counselor come down and help you with anything you need, but it's important you're certain about whatever you decide. I’m sorry we can’t do any more… Does Miss Cronin have any other relatives you'd like us to notify? A husband? Children?"
Polly shook her head and wiped her eyes. "No. Only an ex-husband she couldn't hold onto. No children."
As Fred listened to the conversation the realization of what the doctor was saying finally struck home and he yanked his hand away from the red cord as if it had burned him. "NO! YOU CAN'T!" he cried. "She'll die! What's wrong with you?!"
He looked down at Lizzie's bruised face and felt his lungs deflate in defeat. "Why would you do this?" he asked nobody in particular, his voice coming out in a strained whisper. He reached out to gently stroke her cheek and his hand began to tremble, not out of fear, but out of anger.
Suddenly balling his hand into a fist, he spun back around to face Polly. "You're nothing but an evil cunt! Why are you doing this?! WHY?!" he screamed, his chest swelling up from the pain he was feeling in his heart.
"Alright then," said Doctor Baird, glancing over his chart once more before setting it in the holder at the foot of Lizzie’s bed. "I'll leave you to your decision." He offered one more sympathetic expression before quickly exiting the room.
Polly exhaled, visibly trembling as she approached the bedside. "How could this happen?” she whispered, reaching out to stroke the top of her daughter's head. “How could you do this and leave me here with this decision?” Fresh tears found their way onto her cheeks. “I've always loved you and you never once tried to show it back and this is how you're going to leave me? After everything?" Her voice shook under the strain of saying the words.
Fred glared at the nasty woman in front of him. "Love her? All you've ever shown your daughter is how controlling and belittling you can be!" He growled through clenched teeth. "You don't love her. If you did, 'pulling the plug' wouldn't be such a novel idea, would it?" His gaze moved back to Lizzie's comatose body. He felt like his chest was being constricted. His heart was beating so fast he wondered for a moment if it was possible for an imaginary friend to actually have a heart attack.
Fred banished the ridiculous thought from his head as he gripped the handrails of the bed so hard his knuckles whitened. "Are you even going to let her father come see her broken body? Or are you going to be the hateful wench we all know you to be?" He seethed.
Polly grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and dabbed her eyes. "I'll never forgive you for this. If... if I'd known it would come to this I would’ve never had a child." She wiped away a final tear before balling the tissue up in anger and tossing it into the trash. Her pulse raced and it suddenly felt very hard to breathe. Staggering away from the bed, Polly propped herself up against the doorframe to catch her breath.
"God, now I'm going to have to bother with funeral arrangements. It's going to financially ruin what I have in my savings." She stared forlornly over at Lizzie. "And I suppose I'm going to have to tell Charles and your father about this... Let them all say goodbye..."
Fred sneered at Polly. "How utterly gracious of you to allow her father a final goodbye," he said, sarcasm dripping from each word. He grabbed Lizzie's lifeless hand; it still felt warm to the touch. She isn't cold and dead yet, but give her mother enough time and she will be. He knew if her mother had anything to say about it WITHOUT repercussions, she'd have already given the doctors the authorization to kill Lizzie off.
Fred sighed and ran his free hand over his face. "This isn't happening. It can’t happen. It's not fair!" His other hand squeezed Lizzie’s lifeless one, and he desperately wished that she would squeeze it back. When she didn't respond, Fred gently released it and walked to the opposite side of the room, away from Polly. He leaned toward the window and took a look outside as his thoughts tumbled around within his head.
"You don't deserve this," he whispered. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the windowpane. "Just a few hours ago, you were so full of life. Standing in Fartpant's kitchen, making plans to go to the movies, sharing pictures—"
He stopped his rambling as his mind kicked into overdrive. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way.
Spinning around, Fred gave Lizzie's unconscious form a final look of desperation. "Snotface, I need you to stay alive long enough for me to go and see a few people."
He walked back over to the bed and gave her cheek another soft touch. "They... they gave me a chance. Why shouldn't they give you a chance as well?" His eyes traveled back to Polly and he gave her a hardened stare. "You'd better not kill her off before I get back, or else... there's going to be hell to pay."

The blinding whiteness of the Other Otherworld’s domain always gave Damion a headache. Well, maybe it wasn’t just the lack of color; the other five dunderheads he shared it with had a whole hell of a lot to do with it as well.
Whoever’s idea it had been to create such a place and stick him with five other men must have been evilly brilliant or completely bored.
Damion scowled. Probably a bit of both. Best practical joke ever. He rolled his eyes and growled at the other occupants messing about in the never-ending whiteness.
Hell, that’s a lie, he corrected himself. It wasn’t white all the time, as their domain was somewhat sentient. A large wooden door would appear whenever an imaginary friend would come calling, needing a new assignment. At that time the room would bend to his and other gods’ wills, but the option of shape-shifting the room, however, could only be done when there was an intent or a purpose.
Meaning, when an imaginary friend wasn’t present, intents and purposes were never available at their whim, except to pull some likely candidate into their realm for training– It was quite possibly a good thing, or Damion would have transformed the room ages ago to some empty plot of land and held a shovel at the ready. (It wasn’t as if someone would miss the five idiots.)
Needless to say, he was incredibly bored with these fools he reigned along with in the Other Otherworld, especially now with the ongoing crisis. There was a growing shortage of imaginary friends available to children, one that didn’t appear to be slowing down any time soon. "Interesting people need to just start dying faster," he quipped.
To his left, Cale scoffed. "Oh listen to you. 'Why can't every crazy person choke on their forks and die, so I can be master overlord supreme and have all the imaginary friends to myself.' It's not feasible, you know. You're an outright bastard wishing that."
Damion glared at him. "I'm sorry, can you stop talking? I'd like to hear myself plot."
Cale rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Fine, be an evil bastard. See if I care," he muttered, wandering to the corner to fetch his monocle goggles.
Axel shook his head. "Can you believe him? Getting so worked up over something so simple as death! It's scientifically inevitable, so why not hurry it along on the ones we need?"
Enzo cleared his throat. "Uh, because that would be WRONG." He tilted his head and his dangling earrings swung about. Both Damion and Axel stared at him like he was deranged.
"Are those trolls on your ears?" Damion asked, staring at the fluffy green-haired abominations swinging from Enzo's earlobes.
“They're Vyvian and Ricardo. They're my friends and I'd kindly ask that you don't refer to them as trolls. It hurts their feelings."
Damion blinked. “They’re green and hairy. Plus the left eye on each of them is larger than the other. If they’re not trolls, please do enlighten me as to exactly what their species is."
"Well, you see we haven't decided on that yet."
Bastion shook his head. "Bloody hell! Such a loony," he muttered within earshot.
"Am not!" Enzo argued.
"SHUT UP!" Damion spat. "After all these years I swear I'm ready to off the lot of you and go solo!"
A doorbell suddenly rang and the large wooden door appeared off in the distance. All of them immediately tensed.
"Were you expecting guests?" Enzo asked. "Because I haven't properly dressed for that. I told you to give me more notice."
Damion smacked his head. "Shut your face, or I'll use those trolls to stab you in the eyes. No, I haven't invited anyone. Go see who it is."
Favian raised his hand. "I'll do it," he grumbled and marched for the door.

When Fred popped into the Other Otherwold, the hair immediately rose on the back of his neck. The place was unnatural, and whenever someone came to visit the gods, the teleportation area was always within this same dark hallway of solid stone walls lined by bits of moss growing around the edges of the mortar. The occasional scuffing of feet could be heard on the cobblestone floor, but if one turned to look over their shoulder the hallway would be empty, save for the few lights leading to the large wooden door at the hall’s end.
The part Fred disliked the most about this place; however, laid in the opposite direction of that door, where nothing but blackness seemed to thrive. Fred had never ventured that route, as he never had a reason to, plus it just looked entirely too creepy for his tastes.
The slightly less off-putting detail about this realm was that Fred never once saw any of his other friends here. He had always assumed the gods had done this for a reason, though once he’d dwelled on this detail a little too much and asked the gods for an explanation. He was rapped over the head with a shovel instead. Damion always had a thing for shovels.
Shaking his head off the thought of the tall man armed with a garden tool, Fred decided he’d see enough of that in a moment. Right now he couldn’t let himself lose his nerve.
Gathering up all the courage he could muster, he strode toward the door ahead and rapped loudly on the wood. His stomach busily twisted in knots over the whole situation, and for a long moment he thought perhaps he had made a serious mistake in coming here. The last time he had dealt with this lot was after he had managed to get himself locked up in Elizabeth's jack-in-the-box.
As they love reminding me of that EVERY time I come back for a new assignment.
Fred sighed, certain the crazy men behind the door were going to be surprised at this sudden visit, but he had good reason for leaving the real world behind so he could plead his case properly.
Impatience took more hold on him and he nervously banged on the door again. "Come on, come on... I know you batty bastards are in there."
The door swung open to reveal Favian, who blinked in surprise. "Who're you?" he asked.
Fred narrowed his eyes. "Seriously?"
"Are you the pizza guy?"
"Does it bloody LOOK like I'm holding a pizza?"
"Well, you never know. You could be carrying it someplace else." Favian shrugged.
It was Fred’s turn to blink. "You're right. I have your pizza here in my pocket," he said as he reached in, pretending to dig. When he pulled his hand out, he gave Favian the middle finger. "One Ultimate Fingeroni with extra piss off!"
“Oh shut it. I know who you are, Drop Dead Fred. Why are you here?"
Fred pushed past the god to let himself in. "I have business to discuss, if you don't mind."
"I have no mind to mind," Favian muttered, wandering back to the others. "Hey, OTHERS, Drop Dead Fred's here to do his business."
Axel looked up. "Really?! That's an awfully long way to travel just to go to the bathroom." He frowned at the idea.
Bastion gagged. "Well I don't want to watch or see what comes out of his bottom!"
Fred let out a sigh while dragging his hand exasperatedly across his face. "I'm not here to use your facilities.”
None of them seemed to notice Fred had spoken. Typical, should've brought a shiny object with me so they’d at least pay attention.
"What's he going to use for toilet paper? Enzo's dress?" Damion laughed, inciting all but Enzo to join in.
"Hey! Leave my skirts out of this. He can use the drapes."
"Oh not the drapes," Cale whined. "I rather like those. Well, whenever some appear." He reached behind himself for the blue ones, stroking the fabric.
"Well, he has to shit somewhere," said Bastion, pointing at Fred. "Unless it's piss. Do you have to piss, Fred?" he asked.
"You're the one taking the piss right now," Fred replied evenly.
Bastion's jaw dropped. "Well, I say! That was uncalled for!"
"You were asking for it," Favian muttered.
"Was not!"
"Were too!"
"Oh, shut up! You're wrong! You're always wrong!"
"And that's how you like it." Favian smirked.
Bastion was aghast. "What the devil are you talking about, you rat monkey's ass?"
Fred paled at the sight of the gods fighting in front of him. These bastards were just as insane as the day he'd met them. He idly wondered if there were something in the Other Otherworld water, if they even drank water, that is. Maybe they were all suffering from dehydration... or brain tumors…
Dehydrated brain tumors.
Damion held up his hands. "Shut up, all of you!" For once they silenced in unison. "Drop Dead Fred here has something he'd like to say, I'm sure, and I'd much rather listen to that than you ninnies for another second." He eyed Fred. "But... wait, why are you here?”
“Yeah,” said Bastion. “Aren't you currently with child?"
Axel and Cale snickered as Fred rolled his eyes. Lizzie will be dead and buried by the time I even to get to tell them why I’m here…
"Fred's having a baby!" Axel laughed.
"Let's throw him a shower!" Cale chimed in.
"Who's the mother?" asked Enzo.
Fred slapped his forehead. "I should know better to come in here sober before trying to talk to you lot..."
"Oh now that's not good for the baby," Enzo chided, waggling a finger at him of disapproval.
Fred groaned and shot Bastion a glare. "Thanks for the Freudian slip, you bastard."
Enzo gasped. "Bastion's the mother?! Oh, this is wonderful news! Why didn't you tell me?" he asked his friend.
"Right. Can I kill him?" asked Bastion of Damion.
"No because if anyone's killing anyone, I'll be the one doing it. Fred! What is it you wanted?"
Fred gave the group a wary look before saying his next words and took a very deep breath. "Right. I've come to... erm... ask a favor."
"A favor?" Damion's voice hitched. "Are you sure it's not about a toilet?"
"No, it's not about the damned bloody toilet!" Fred huffed. "This is serious. It's a matter of life or death, literally."
All of them finally dropped their smiles and focused fully on Fred.
"Death you say? Go on," said Damion.
Fred stepped toward the group. "Do you remember my first job? The little girl, Elizabeth?"
Damion's eyebrows rose with interest. "The one that ended you up in a jack-in-the-box?"
Fred lowered his gaze to the floor. "Yes. The first... and only job where I, um... failed."
"Right. I thought you went back and cleaned that all up with as her adult, or am I mistaken?" Damion eyed him quizzically. The others murmured amongst themselves. It had been big news at the time when Fred returned to Elizabeth as an adult. It had never happened before with any other imaginary friend.
"Ahh, well yes, it's been 'cleaned up,' as you say," he said, suddenly finding it hard to find the words he had practiced the entire way over. His well-practiced speech had completely escaped him, probably due to the incessant insanity that occurred upon his arrival. He closed his eyes and hoped for the best. "She's going to die."
"And?” Damion asked, leaning closer, silently urging the orange-haired man to continue. His boredom was now effectively nullified at the sudden interest to learn why this was so dire for Fred.
Fred opened his eyes and his face twisted in pain. "Today. She's going to die today."
"Ah," Damion said, stepping closer to Fred. "Today? How do you know this? Don't you have a new friend now?" He rubbed his chin in an attempt to draw out the conversation.
"I'm friend’s with Elizabeth's... um... Well, he's not quite her boyfriend..." Fred shook his head, trying to clear all the emotions and thoughts that were clouding his brain. He had to be clear and concise with his words or the entire dialogue would be lost and an inevitable barrage of insanity would begin to spew from this group's lips. "I'm friends with the daughter of a man who was a childhood friend of Elizabeth's. There was an accident today. She was hit by an intoxicated man... with a truck."
Damion's eyes narrowed. "This favor, I’m guessing, has something to do with Elizabeth, rather than your new friend.”
"Ah, yes," Fred replied. "I wanted to know if you could possibly... um... save her.” Damion’s incredulous look made Fred’s heart plummet.
"Save her? What do you think we do here? We can't stick a magic band-aid on her if she's dying! Just help your new friend through it. It's difficult, but she'll survive."
The other gods shifted uncomfortably because they were all suspecting something more to this story, but thought better to just stay quiet while Damion worked his interrogation.
"No, I know you can't do that." Fred sighed. He knew this conversation was going to be hard, but he refused to back down until they saw his reasoning. "Her mother is going to terminate her life. There's no stopping it." Fred fought hard to keep his tears from spilling down upon his cheeks as he explained the situation. "The accident has left her in a state; she can't survive without being hooked up to a bunch of machines."
"Then what’re you asking, Fred? Spill it. We may have eternity, but we'd like to not spend it in suspense." Damion growled.
Fred audibly gulped. No point in backing down now. "I'm asking you lot to give her a second chance,” he explained. "Like you gave me a second chance all those years ago."
Every one of them shared a look and moments of silence followed. Fred gazed at the group of men in utter shock. Huh, got all of them to shut up. Probably should have opened with that.
Damion watched Fred carefully. He could see the shine of the tears in his eyes and it told him most of what he wanted to know. "You want us to make her an imaginary friend? As far as I know, this girl's normal, right?"
"Normal? How should I know?"
A pained hiss leaked from Damion as he decided to target his questions more carefully. How was it Drop Dead Fred could be so much more difficult than the rest of his imaginary minions? “Bloody hell! She’s been your charge twice!”
"Well if you put it that way, then you ruddy well know she's not normal!" Fred hollered back. "I had to go back and be her imaginary friend while she was an ADULT. Even though half of that was my fault, how many cases like that have you had?”
"Just yours,” he ground out, “but your initial failure, I’m afraid isn’t enough to give her the ideal criteria to become an imaginary friend. We’ve strict guidelines, you know. Honestly, when I made that deal with you that you’d go back to finish that job, I never actually thought she’d remember you past age ten, let alone look for you again.”
"Guess that makes her ending up with Fred twice somewhat your fault,” Axel said, smirking at his revelation. The searing glare from Damion couldn’t even ruin this moment for him and Fred revealed his own smirk of approval.
"Shut up,” Damion hissed with so little mouth movement he looked like a ventriloquist. “The point I’m trying to make is, that despite Elizabeth’s unusual case, she’s not the right type we’d let in here, and this is the Other Otherworld, not a bloody suggestion box!”
"Uh, we could instate one of those,” said Enzo, lifting a hand.
"If we did you wouldn’t like where my first suggestion was going,” Damion spat back. These interruptions were finally starting to get to him. If he didn’t hurry this up, he was going to start digging six holes... “The rules state that we only take in people with little, or no family, with a colorful state of mind already giving them a familiarity with unnatural sights and sounds.”
"I.E. Fred’s acid days,” mumbled Favian.
Damion sighed with sarcasm. “Thank you, Mr. Laymen,” he said. “Look, you can’t take a normal person, or even close to it, and toss them off into, well this. They’d go insane! And while that’s part of the job, the quickness of it would be too much for them to take. They wouldn't adjust. There’s a reason we choose who we do.” Damion stopped to consider his next words. “But you already know all of this, which leaves me with the question of WHAT could’ve possibly stripped you of your already little sense of rationality and have you march all the way here to ask us a favor.” Staring Fred straight in the eye, he asked, "Is it love, Fred?"
Fred's eyes widened in shock at Damion's question. "Love? What does love have to do with this?"
"Oh, I know this song!" said Enzo with a smile. Everyone looked back at him like he were the most insane of all of them. "What? It's a classic… I'm not ashamed."
Damion shook his head. "I've got to stop letting him channel radio stations at night..." he muttered. He looked back at Fred. "I ask because you've just put so much importance on this woman's life when you know she's not like us here in the Other Otherworld. Why else would you be standing before us here, making such a sentimental request?"
Frustration erupted across Fred's face. Why was Damion asking so many damn questions? The idea of love wasn’t alien to him; however, there was something he felt for Lizzie. If he could describe what he currently felt, it was like a warm flutter in the pit of his stomach, and thinking about it scared the hell out of him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to ignore how his body reacted to the 'L' word. "She's done nothing to deserve what's going to happen to her. I'm simply... defending her."
"Hmm." Damion stroked the bottom of his chin once again. "She's human. Bad things happen eventually. What makes her so special to you?" he added, raising an eyebrow.
Fred narrowed his eyes. "She was the first assignment I ever took, and the first assignment I ever failed," he replied. "If anything, I owe her. I know I went back and fixed things, but it wasn’t enough.” Fred dropped his head in defeat. “It will never be enough,” he whispered.
Damion straightened and took a long gaze at Fred. The corner of his mouth twitching as he mulled things over. "Right... Would you excuse us a moment?" He turned his head and shouted at the others, "Mind meeting!"
The rest of the gods jumped and scurried over to Damion, forming a circle. One by one they proceeded to stick their fingers into the ears of those beside them, forming a chain. When complete, their eyes closed and their heads dropped forward. Fred stood there awkwardly after watching the weird ritual play out in front of him.
"Um, I don't really think that's very hygienic,” he offered.
"Says the one who rubs dog poo on the furniture," mumbled Cale.
Fred scowled. Should’ve known they were still listening. “Like you wouldn’t have done it,” he countered.
"You don’t want to know what I’ve done.”
Fred wanted to reply, but feared delaying this decision any further. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed in the real world and the last thing he wanted was for that witch of a mother to take away his best friend a second– and more permanent– time.
Several agonizing minutes passed before the gods dislodged their fingers and ended their ear-finger-circle-meeting. They smiled at Fred in a very unsettling manner.
"Well?” he asked, blinking with impatience. “Fingered each others' ear holes enough to finally reach a decision yet?"
Axel smirked suggestively and waved a finger at Fred, bobbing his eyebrows. "Oh, you," he said.
"Come near me with that and you'll spend the next week trying to get your hand out of that tosser's knickers." Fred snorted as he pointed at Enzo.
"I'd rather his finger not come near my knickers! They're clean and I'd like to keep them that way," Enzo cried in defense. "And who knows where that's been!" He flashed a disgusted look at Axel.
"I know where it's been," he replied with another smirk.
Damion rolled his eyes. "Yes, well map that out later. Now where was I?"
Fred sighed. He knew he had plenty of moments where he wasn't lucid, but this group took the diagnosis of attention deficit disorder to whole new heights. "You were about to give me an answer."
Damion glared at him. "Well, aren't you demanding! Alright, here's our answer: We'll meet with her, and if she's interesting enough, you might get your happy reunion." He smiled a bit wickedly at Fred. "How's that?"
Fred stood there, gobsmacked. Surely the decision couldn't be THIS easy. "Alright, what's the catch?"
Damion laughed. "Catch? What makes you think there's a catch?"
Fred scowled as he shook a finger at them. "What makes you think I'm going to trust a group of loons? Velcro Head still isn't right after the balloon animal incident of '83," he said with a shudder. "He can't even look at a balloon without vomiting."
"That was circumstantial," muttered Cale.
Bastion leaned over to him and said, "But it was bloody brilliant!" He glanced at Fred. "And I'm not loony, just the rest of this lot. I've got credentials. I was king once."
Favian scoffed. "Yeah, of the dance."
"Shut up!" Bastion roared.
Cale sighed. "Well I didn't vote for him."
"Oh let's not bring that up again," Damion muttered. He glanced at Fred. "Velcro Head's really still upset over that?"
"Other than the fact that he wets himself every time he has to be with a child going to a birthday party, he's fine," Fred growled back. Generally the chaos was somewhat contained whenever the gods decided to mess with the imaginary friends they lorded over, but he knew deep down there was always some twisted reasoning behind everything they did.
Circumstantial my ass, he thought.
Damion smirked. "Alright. Let's cut to the chase. If there is a catch, I'm not ready to throw it." His smirk twisted into an innocent expression that practically glowed. "Now, do you want us to meet with your Elizabeth, or not?"
Fred nervously shuffled his feet. "I'll agree to this, so long as you promise not to break her brain in the process."
"Seeing as how she's had everything else broken...”
Fred shot Damion a glare.
"What? Too soon? Oh, fine. Shall we seal the deal then?" he asked, thrusting his right hand at Fred.
"What's the matter? Lose your shovel?" Fred smirked as he took Damion's hand.
"You still upset about that?" he asked, shaking Fred's hand.
"It's just a nasty habit I somehow picked up from you... you know, smacking people on the head with shovels and all."
"Good to see I rubbed off on you and not Enzo."
"Hey!" Enzo shouted. "I heard that!"
"I intended for you to, you half-wit! Now get to work figuring out how long until this girl's unplugged," Damion ordered. He smiled back at Fred. "I love new arrivals. They're always so much fun!"

Authors' Note: And now you see where we're going with this. Next chapter will be up soon. Just needs some finishing touches. Please review and thanks for waiting so patiently!
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Second Chances