A/N: So this is my first time in this fandom, and, meh, it's not my best work... I don't know what possessed me to write this. I watched the movie the other day, forgetting how awesome it was, and wondered why no one on this site has delved into the idea yet of what happened between Simba running away and growing up. I know 1 and 1/2 touched up on this idea a bit, but not by much. I feel like Timon and Pumbaa don't really get credit for, you know, raising the king of Pride Rock for pity's sake. That's where this idea came in.

So this started out having clear organization, and became a drabble. Basically it's sort of lacking in a point, except to express a character's thoughts on a certain situation. I hope you all enjoy anyway.

Please review :) Gives me incentive to keep writing.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Lion King.

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All any good parent wants for their child is for them to grow up better off than they ever were.

Timon feared he couldn't even accomplish that as he lay curled up on top of Pumbaa, listening to Simba's stomach growl in his sleep.

He had to admit, he felt a little guilty about what he was doing to the poor kid. He was teaching him to drop all notions of responsibility, making him forget every moral standard he was ever raised with, all while not even giving him the adequate care he needed to grow up.

Rescuing Simba was easy. It was easy to suggest taking him into the shade and reviving him. It was easy to lift himself up as a hero for saving an innocent, dying cub. It was easy to rest in the knowledge that there would always be a carnivore around to protect them.

The hard part was accepting the responsibility of taking care of something so helpless and dependent on you.

Timon knew absolutely nothing about taking care of a kid. He could hardly take care of himself sometimes, let alone a lion. He grimaced as another particularly loud groan from Simba's stomach reached his ears. Bugs weren't exactly what a growing lion needed, and he idly wondered how long Simba could even survive on them. He couldn't exactly run back to the Pride Lands and take down a zebra for him, though. He felt guilty for contemplating the idea that even if Simba did die from starvation eventually, at least he'd elongated his life, even if only by a few days.

Timon lowered his ears and turned his back to Simba, trying to block out the sound of him talking in his sleep. His words were much like they'd been every night so far:

Don't leave me, Dad.

I didn't mean to do it.

I'm sorry, Dad...

Whatever this poor kid was weighed down with when they found him, it must have been pretty intense. Timon could only imagine; Simba refused to talk about it. Timon wasn't too keen on talking about his family either, so he let it slide every time.

It was hard to ignore on nights like these, though. Knowing the child he was entrusted with was restlessly sleeping a few mere feet away from him, tears falling from his eyes, while Timon did nothing but ignore the obviously painfully nightmares he was having, was starting to wear on him.

Tonight was especially frustrating for him. Waking up in the middle of the night was becoming a pattern with Simba, and pretty soon Timon couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a full night's sleep. When he heard the sound of Simba rustling, indicating that he was awake, Timon lost all sense of sympathy for the little lion, and stormed over to where he was curled up tightly, shaking as though he were cold.

"Do you understand how this whole 'sleeping' deal, works?" he snapped. "The sun goes down, we go to sleep and we don't wake up until it comes back up. Think we can handle that??"

Timon was slightly taken aback when he received a sniffle in response. He slowly made his way around to Simba's front, only to find he was crying again. This was different than the other nights, though... This time he was awake.

Guilt was written all over Timon's face as he struggled for a way to recover from an awkward start to this conversation. Thankfully, Simba was the first to finally speak up.

"I wanna forget," he managed between chokes.

No other words were needed.

Timon could easily relate.

'Forgetting' was the very reason he'd come here to begin with.

He'd come as an adult though. Simba was still a child. 'Forgetting', it seemed, would not come so naturally to him.

Unsure of what to say without prying about his past, Timon gently patted Simba's paw, silently waiting for him to calm down. Once his sobs became deep, even breaths, he finally decided to speak up.

"Listen Kid, I don't know what you've been through, but you gotta put that behind you now. It's over, you're here, nothing bad's gonna happen."

He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

Empty promises.

What good could a meerkat do trying to protect a lion? He was going to get Simba killed, he just knew it. If not by his lack of knowledge on how to care for him, then by another animal, top of the food chain or not.

No need to let Simba in on that, though.

"I can't... I can't put it behind me," he replied tearfully, "I spend all day forgetting about it, then I close my eyes at night and it all comes back. I can see him falling, I can see him telling me to run away and never come back, I can see them chasing me..." The speed at which his words were coming out, mixed with an utter lack of understanding of what he was even talking about, nearly made Timon's head spin with confusion.

"Woah woah, slow down there," he offered, holding his hands up for emphasis. "I'd like to help, but it's kinda hard when I have no idea what's going on..."

Simba shut his eyes tight, causing several unshed tears to fall. "I can't say... I can't tell you why everyone's left me... I can't tell you why there were so many people back home that cared about me and now I have no one... I can't tell you what I did. It'll only make you guys leave me too..."

Timon could only stare up at Simba with a neutral expression, deep in thought. What could someone Simba's age have possibly done that was so horrible? He imagined whatever it was, Simba was blowing it dramatically out of proportion.

"Look," he began scrunching his nose, "It's not true that you have no one now. We woulda let the buzzards finish you off if we didn't care about ya."

Simba scoffed. "Maybe you should've let them. What's there left to live for, anyway?"

Timon bit his lower lip. It pained him to hear someone so young talking like that. Now, more than ever, he wanted Simba to understand what 'Hakuna Matata' was supposed to mean. He wanted to take every responsibility off of his shoulders. He wanted him to grow up happy and care-free. He didn't want him to have to rush through his childhood. He wanted him to live for himself.

He wanted everything for Simba that he never got growing up himself.

It was then that Timon was struck with an epiphany of sorts.

Love and compassion.

That's what was missing in the equation.

He could put shade over his head, make sure he was fed, and keep an eye out for him. But Simba would always appear to be that sad, suffering, slowly-wasting-away cub, until he added the essential element to raising any child, large or small, lion or meerkat.

Something he would have killed for when he was growing up.

To simply be listened to.

To know that someone cared.

A few simple words were all that was necessary.

"We'll never leave you. I promise."

He smiled, curling up under Simba's chin, soothingly patting his fur until a light purr affirmed that he'd fallen asleep. Doing right by a child was perhaps one of the scariest undertakings Timon had ever taken on. But never had he wanted to accomplish a task more.

All any good parent wants for their child is for them to grow up better off than they ever were.

That's why it came as no surprise to Timon, that years later, when SImba took his place on top of Pride Rock and let out his first long roar as king of the Pride Lands, it was perhaps the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

They say it takes an entire village to raise a child. Timon swelled with pride at the fact that it only took him and Pumbaa to raise a king. There was no way to describe the feeling of seeing Simba standing tall and proud, knowing he was there because of them.

Life in the Pride Lands would go on as normal.

Credit would not be given to them where credit was due.

And somehow, he was okay with that.

It wasn't about the credit.

It was about setting out for a worthy task and seeing it through to the end.

So no one would notice who was behind Simba's survival.

Self-satisfaction would have to do.