Chapter Twenty-Six

Vanellope von Schweetz

When Vanellope retired to her bedroom for the night, she was strangely restless. She had thought changing out of her heavy, stuffy princess dress and into her nightgown, and snuggling deeply into her soft, silken pillows and linen sheets would have relaxed her. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't manage to fall asleep.

She had no idea how long she had been lying awake when a familiar voice shattered the silence of her room.

"Hello, my dear glitch."

She didn't have to look. She knew it was King Candy, conjured up once more by her brain's fevered imagination. Yet she raised her head anyway, her eyes sliding past the sheets towards the end of the bed, where the little man was perched on the corner, his cane across his knees.

"You don't look thurprithed to thee me."

"I'm not," she admitted. Vanellope was surprised at her own calmness, however. She'd expected her old enemy's appearance to send her into a panic attack. Instead, she felt quiet, almost solemn.

King Candy arched his eyebrows. "Not thurprithed?" He hopped off of the bed, his cane tucked under one arm. "I thupothe I thouldn't be thurprithed at that. You know by now that every time you're troubled, you imagine I'm here."

Vanellope followed the monarch with her gaze as he hopped jauntily towards her dressing mirror, where he stopped to admire his own reflection.

"You're so full of yourself," Vanellope blurted out, almost without thinking.

"I know, right?" said King Candy, still observing himself in the mirror, "but tho are you."

Vanellope opened her mouth to offer a witty retort, only for the words to die in her mouth. "You're right," she said. "I am."

At this remark, King Candy left off staring at his reflection. He turned towards Vanellope, an expression of genuine surprise on his face. "What?"

Vanellope slid the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Slowly, wincing at the pain that flared across her still healing back, she lowered herself onto the floor. She walked forward until she was face to face with King Candy.

"I said I'm full of myself," she said. She laughed. "I'm kind of conceited."

"Yeah, well, you thtill hate me," said King Candy, a wicked grin on his face.

Vanellope's expression darkened. "I've hated you ever since you took over my game," she said, her words dripping with years of pent-up resentment.

"Tho take it out on me," said King Candy, spreading his arms. "Punch me. Break my limbth. Throw me into the ground. You won't be hurting anyone; I'm jutht a product of your imagination."

Vanellope clenched her fists. She raised them, ready to strike. Then, abruptly, she lowered them. She shook her head.

"Dead wrong," she said. "I'd be hurting me."

King Candy smirked. "Really?"

"Maybe I should…forgive you."

King Candy lowered his arms, astounded. "What are you thaying?"

"Not what you wanna hear?" said Vanellope. "That I can move on? That I don't have to let you haunt me forever?"

"But what'th the good?" King Candy asked. "I'm not really here. I can't ever be around to be annoyed by your little thcheme to humiliate me."

"Humi-what?"

King Candy chuckled. "You don't even know that word, do you?"

Vanellope looked the monarch full in the face. "You might never know I forgave you," she said, "but I'll know."

"But can you really do it?"

"I can try," said Vanellope. "I'll do my best."

Vanellope blinked. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. King Candy was nowhere to be seen.

Glancing towards the cabinet at the far end of her room, she eyed it for several moments. She walked towards it, gritting her teeth whenever her wounds gave a painful twinge. When she reached the cabinet, she opened it. Even in the darkness, the polished, expressionless silver mask mounted on the cabinet's rear wall shone brightly, as though it bore a light within itself.

For five solid minutes she stared, her eyes never straying from it. Finally, she drew a handkerchief from her pocket- the same one Gale had given her. Gingerly, she hung it upon a peg beside the mask. This done, she closed the cabinet and walked back towards her wardrobe, from which she selected a dressing gown. After pulling on a pair of slippers, she slid into the gown and then headed into the hallway.

Game Central Station was dark, and extremely quiet. The odd character could be seen flitting his or her way through the shadows, but otherwise, the entire hall seemed strangely empty.

Eerie Vanellope thought to herself as she exited the Sugar Rush wire and began to cross the station.

Halfway to the other side, she realized that the Surge Protector hadn't stopped her for a security check.

Why would he-?

She turned back towards the wire that led to her game. The Surge Protector was pacing slowly beside the wire entrance, going over various notes on a clipboard. As she watched, he raised his head, allowing his eyes to meet hers. He nodded briefly, a slight smile on his face, before returning his attention to his notes.

Still confused, Vanellope resumed her walk. Within a few minutes, she had arrived beside the empty socket where Clash of Chaos 2 had once been plugged in.

She stopped, staring. Beyond the empty opening, the blackness seemed suffocating, endless. A chill air blew through, causing her to shiver.

"Can't sleep again?"

It was Ralph, who had arrived beside her without her knowing.

"How'd you guess?"

"I've known you for over four years now, kid. I've kinda got you figured out now."

"But I don't, Ralph."

"Excuse me?"

Vanellope turned back towards the empty socket. "Ralph…who am I?"

Ralph scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Four years ago, you were a racer with the greatest superpower ever."

Vanellope smiled at the memory. Sadly, she shook her head. "The greatest superpower ever? The greatest superpower ever has tripped me up too many times. It's made knife wounds hurt too much, it's slammed me into walls, it's given me electric shocks. I'm not defined by my glitch, Ralph. I can't be."

"But you're a racer though, aren't you?"

"Well…I do race. I love it, and I don't wanna stop." She sighed. "But I'm not a racer."

"What do you mean?"

"Zombie always talks about labels not mattering," Vanellope explained. "I've never really given it much thought until now." She turned towards Ralph. "I've given myself a ton of labels. Racer…citizen…"

"President?" Ralph offered.

Vanellope winced. "I was never a president. Well, not really."

"Technically true."

Vanellope glanced back at the empty power socket for several moments. Finally, she looked at Ralph once again. Taking a deep breath, she said:

"I guess I'm just Vanellope von Schweetz."

Ralph knelt down beside her and wrapped one arm gently around her body. "I think you've grown," he said.

Vanellope looked herself up and down. "Really? I'm still three-foot seven."

Ralph laughed softly. "I mean emotionally," he said. "It took you a bit longer to learn the same lesson I did. You've had a rough go of it, too. I wish things hadn't been that tough for you."

"We can't change the past, Ralph."

"True." He smiled. "There's one label I'd still give you though."

"A selfish diaper baby?"

"Nah. Just 'friend'."

Vanellope grinned awkwardly. "I'll take that one, I guess."

A short distance away, the Surge Protector looked up from his ledger. Beneath the shadow of the empty socket, he could see two friends quietly embracing each other. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he returned his attention to his notes.

And so concludes this story. Many thanks to all of my readers for sticking with this one, despite the use of the internet as a setting. I said at the beginning that I had my reasons for choosing to use it, and I hope now that the story is done, those reasons are clear.

If you feel inclined to drop me a review, rest assured that I will read it. Whether it's number five, fifty, five-hundred, or what have you, I appreciate and value any and every scrap of feedback/constructive criticism you all choose to give me.

Thank you again, and I hope you have enjoyed the story.

~crankyman7