Personal Crisis

Personal Crisis
By DeadKenny

First things first, I do not own Cartman, Stan, Wendy, or any other character (except for Trish) described in the story within. They belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Any character that is not SP related (i.e. the TRUE LIES referenare are not mine and belong to their companies. Second, this fic is rated PG-13, due to mild language.

Here it is. My first fic, which doesn't actually start until next chapter. It contains some violence, bloodshed, language, and some OOC characters. I'm writing this intro piece to possible appeal to my future fans about the ideas I have for this story. Think of this as a preview.

Basically, this fic follows the actual TV episode "Chef Goes Nanners" and focuses on Cartman as he tries to deal with his newfound affection for Wendy. But with Stan in his way, does Cartman have a even remote chance of discussing his feelings with Wendy?

Read on and find out.

*****

In the sleepy redneck town of South Park, Colorado, it was just another typical night. The moon shone high in the sky, illuminating the snow that lay upon the ground. It was calm tonight. The kids were all asleep in their beds, awaiting the following school day.

But one child was not sleeping so soundly.

Eric Cartman tossed and turned in his bed repetitively, trying to shake himself out of his dream, but not succeeding. It was not the first time he'd had this nightmare. He'd been having this dream every night since he and Wendy had worked in the library that day. Since they had planned their speech about the South Park flag together.

His feelings had started to grow for her right then, and then had intensified when she had kissed him in front of everyone, Stan included, at the speech. He had felt... affection, for that girl, something had had never felt for anyone before.

Of course, she had rejected him right after. Apparently, Wendy's feelings had been nothing more then sexual tension, and they had vanished when she had kissed him.

Cartman's feelings had not, though. He still thought about her, began fantasizing about her right afterwards. It had been several months ago, an had had kept his secret to himself, hiding it deep underneath his self-centeredness that he always showed around Kyle, Stan, and Kenny. But he could not keep it buried for much longer, though.

Cartman mumbled incoherently in his sleep as he turned over onto his stomach, watching through sleeping eyes the events playing before him...

*****

Cartman rolled down the grassy knoll, laughing joyfully, as five feet away, Wendy Testaburger, sat, watching him with admiring eyes, and smiling e loe looked at her, a bouquet of flowers appearing in his hand from nowhere.

"Oh, Cartman," she breathed. "Say it will be like this forever."

"Okay. It will be like this forever."

But before he could say anything else, the sky suddenly darkened, and Cartman wondered briefly why before he realized what the cause for the blackness was. The darkness was the shadow of Stan Marsh as he stood there, staring down at them angrily.

Cartman looked at him, startled. When Stan finally spoke, his voice was like thunder.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Cartman started to react, to tell him to fuck off, but before he could do so, Stan pulled a knife.

"Now you die."

*****

Cartman sat straight up in his bed, breathing heavily, that annoying ringing playing in his ears. The alarm clock had begun blaring and the noise had woken him just in time. The fat boy slapped the side of the clock, bringing the noise to an end, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and getting out of his bed.

Crossing the hall to the bathroom, Cartman looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were still tired, and he looked exhausted. But most of all, he looked... lost. There was no other way to explain it. But it was time to forget that. Time for school.

"Dude... what the hell is wrong with me?"

*****

A half hour later, at the Bus Stop, Kyle and Kenny were already there, waiting on the bus, when a very sleepy Stan staggered up to him, shuffling his feet in pure exhaustion.

"Whoa, dude, you don't look good," was Kyle's way of greeting his friend this morning.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"What's the problem?"

"Kyle," Stan answered pointedly. "You know what the problem is."

Kyle pondered for a moment, then it came to him. "Oh, right. The thing with Wendy and Cartman?"

"Yeah."

"Look, dude, I thought Wendy had already explained it to you. She's not in love with Cartman or anything. That had just been a temporary thing."

Stan said nothing. He was too winded to respond. Kyle turned away to watch for the bus, thinking back. When Wendy had kissed Cartman at the debate, Stan had looked so shocked, that even after the debate was over, the small boy could only sit there, looking astonished.

Almost comatose from the sight of his girlfriend sharing lips with Cartman.

Personally, Kyle thought that it had been the most disgusting thing he had ever seen. Wendy and Cartman? Jesus Christ on a crapper. Kyle's thoughts were adhered however by the convenient arrival of Cartman, who looked slightly haunted but otherwise his usual obnoxious self.

"Hey, it's the fatass," Kyle responded, trying to get them both back into the daily rebuttals of insulting each other like they always did. Stan said nothing, he just looked at Cartman, who had no trouble getting back to the normal trash talk.

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Jewboy! Besides, I'm not fat, I'm hugely shaped!"

Kyle snickered. "You can say that again."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING JEW!!!!!!"

"Lardass!!"

"Dildo!!"

*****

"All right, class, we have a lot of work to do today, so let's just get started." Mr. Garrison turned to the chalkboard and started writing, in chalk, the words "Romeo and Juliet" on the soft surface before facing the class. "Now, we'll be studying Shakespeare today, and to get us all started, I need two volunteers to come up and read from a literary story."

Stan and Wendy grinned at each other from across the room. This could be fun for them both to do. Cartman noticed their cheeky expressions to each other and tried to focus on his teacher instead, trying not to let his screaming emotions rise to the surface. He was Eric Cartman after all, the class asshole who wasn't supposed to care about anyone or anything meaningful. If he let this get to him, he would damage his rep.

But he had trouble forcing his anguish down. He wanted Wendy so badly.

"I'll do it," Wendy's voice broke into his thoughts.

Stan's going to volunteer as well! Cartman started to panic. This is my chance, but Stan's gonna steal that away from me! Everyone knows Wendy's his girlfriend! Please, Stan, just raise your hand, so we can get this over with!

Suddenly, without really thinking about what he was doing, without knowing until it was too late, Cartman found himself raising his hand as well. "Me too."

Everyone was in shock. Wendy was looking at him in surprise, Garrison was speechless, and Stan looked like he was going to strangle Cartman right then and there. Cartman didn't care though. He only felt relief, and... something else. Was it pride?

Then it was over. Garrison was calling Cartman and Wendy up to the front of the room to read from Romeo and Juliet, and as he got out of his desk, the fat boy couldn't resist shining a gleeful smirk at the angry boy watching with a look of jealous fury on his face.

*****

As soon as the bell rung, signaling the end of the school day, Cartman left the room and the school, walking home by himself. He was only two blocks from his house, when something unexpected happened.

Cartman gasped in surprise as a gloved hand grabbed his should angrily, and spun him around. The fatass suddenly found himself staring into Stan's face. Needless to say, the boy looked quite pissed off. Cartman started to speak, but was cut off by Stan's furious voice, low and bitter.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

"Dude, get the fuck off of me!!" Cartman wrenched himself out of Stan's vice-like grip. The boy dropped his hand, but made no other movements. He only glared.

"Cartrman, I'll ask you again, and you'd have better fuckin' answer me this time. What were you thinking?!"

Cartman let his middle finger be his answer as he turned away to go home. Stan got even angrier. That stupid asshole had cut in on his chance with Wendy that afternoon! Who the hell did he think he was?! Well, Stan was not about to let him get away with that shit.

Cartman's pacing away was interrupted by the heavy rock that struck him in the back of the head. The chubby child went down on his stomach, trying not to start screaming in pain. The back of his head was very sore from where the rock had struck him, and he bit his lip hard to hold his scream in.

Stan kicked him in the side, sending the injured adolescent spinning over onto his back. Cartman could only spit at him as Stan leaned over him, glaring at him hatefully. "You have no chance with Wendy. Give it up."

"F-fuck you Dildo!!"

Stan kicked him in the ribs again, and Cartman relented this time, unleashing a cry of pain. Stan started walking away, and Cartman got to his feet shakily. By the time he stood up, Stan was too far down the block for the fat boy to retaliate. There was only one way he could react under this circumstance.

"YOU COME NEAR ME AGAIN, AND I SWEAR ON GOD'S NAME I'LL KICK YOU IN THE FUCKING NUTS!! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE?!"

Stan just kept walking. Cartman nearly burst in tears from the physical pain. But worse then his injuries, he was suffering emotionally as well. Stan was right. He was fat, racist, stupid, and foul-mouthed. Why on earth would Wendy Testaburger waste even a second of her time upon him?

*****

It was peaceful out. The sun was shining brightly, spilling its' warmth across the landscape. And as she stared out the window, admiring the scenry of her mountainside neighborhood, Wendy Testaburger had troubling thoughts.

What had that been all about earlier? Cartman had actually VOLUNTEERED, in front of everyone in class, to play Romeo opposite her Juliet. Such a surprising act was the last thing she would have ever expected him to do. Why had he done it?

Poor Stan. Wendy had watched him after she had volunteered. He had looked so excited when she had volunteered, and he had begun to raise his arm when Cartman beat him to the punch. She had seen out of the corner of her eye as Stan had lowered his half-raised arm and looked murderously at the fat boy who had joined her up front.

It din't make any sense. Did Cartman have some legitimate reason for his willingness to quote Shakespeare? Was it possible that... he had a THING for her? No, that wasn't logical.

Was it?

Wendy was shaken out of her musings by her mother knocking on her bedroom door. "Wendy, your little friend is here to see you."

"Okay. Thanks, Mom."

The older woman left, shutting the door behind her, and Wendy looked at Stan. at aat are you doing here, Stan?"

The boy shrugged, wearing a secretive, pleased smile on his face for some odd reason.

"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you for a while."

Wendy crossed her arms expectantly. "What did you do this time?" Her tone was suspicious, and Stan wondered briefly if he should tell him what he had done, then decided that since she was probably going to find out sooner or later, to just get it out of the way.

"Aside from kicking the shit outta Cartman, nothing."

Oops. Stan caught sight of Wendy's shocked face and realized he had made the wrong decision.

"You WHAT?!"

Stan tried to gather his strength. What could he say to the girl now? Especially when her face was beginning to turn an angry beet red color? Probably nothing would smooth this situation now, but he had to try.

"It's not like it was that big a deal. The fatass had it coming."

Oh, smooth, Stan. Real smooth.

Wendy snatched the pillow off of her bed and chucked it at him angrily. "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

"What? Wendy, wait a secone. Let's talk about this."

"Forget it! We're not talking about anything right now! Get out!"

Stan was confused. Why was his girlfriend reacting so strongly to this bit of news? She had never really cared about Cartman, and Stan had figured that she wouldn't have been bothered by this either. But she was, for some unexplainable reason. What the hell was going on around here?

He tried to ask her why, but at that point, it was too late. Wendy was pushing him personally out the front door onto her porch, and then she slammed the large mahogany door behind him, making it very clear that she didn't want anything to do with him right now.

And all Stan could do was wonder why.

*****

Cartman reclined, engrossed in his usual bag of cheesy poofs, as on the TV, Terrence and Phillip laughed childishly as they proceeded to fart incessantly upon each r. Cr. Cartman knew that he should be enjoying this right now, but for some reason, Terrence and Phillip couldn't comfort him. Hell, even his cheesy poofs couldn't even provide solace for the fat boy. He just sat there, staring balefully at the screen, an ice pack pinned between the back of his head,
where the rock had hit him earlier, and the couch.

Kitty came in and mewed, asking in cat language for some food. Cartman looked down at her, debating. Ah, well, screw it. He amazingly didn't feel like snacking right now, anyway.

Cartman tossed the opened bag onto the carpeted floor. "Knock yourself out, Kitty."

As Kitty began to feast on cheesy poofs, the doorbell rang, and Cartman, being the only one in the house, went to answer it. His mom was out at some PTA meeting at the elementary school.

Openeing the door, Cartman was surprised to see Wendy Testaburger standing there. In a radianf bef beauty, she could outshine them all, in Cartman's eyes.

WHAT?!

Cartman kicked himself mentally. Why the hell had he been thinking that romantic garbage just now?

"Hi, Cartman. Could I come in?"

Wendy Testaburger, at his house, asking to come in and talk. This was a first. Cartman knew he didn't want to say no, however, so he moved out of the doorway, allowing her passage inside.

"Thank you." Wendy shut the door behind her, and Cartman, believe it or not, actually turned off the TV, and sat down next to the dark-haired girl on the couch, wondering what to say to her.

"Cartman..." She had no clue how to begin this conversation with him. It was Cartman, of all people! What could she say to him that wouldn't piss him off?!

No, girl, don't chicken out now, she scolded herself. Just talk to him and get it over with.

Taking a deep breath, Wendy smiled at Cartman, who was watching her with something unrecognizable in his eyes. She did her best to ignore it, and concentrated on her talk with him.

"Stan told me what he did. I just wanted to say I'm sorry, on my own behalf."

"Wendy, it wasn't your fault. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I know, but still, I'm sorry." She noticed the ice pack that he was holding pressed against the back of his head with one hand. "Does that hurt really badly?"

"Not too much. It's just a little sting." Cartman looked away at her, and leaned his back against the couch, wincing as this movement stung the bump on the back of his head. "Ow."

"Oh, here, let me." Before Wendy could stop herself, she found herself taking the ice pack, and gently placing it against the minor head wound. That ought to help ease the pain, slight as it already was, some.

"Thanks." Cartman looked at her, and smiled.

Wendy found herself smiling back. "You're welcome."

Suddenly, Wendy realized she was staring directly into his eyes, those lovely broyes,yes, and, ashamed, forced her gaze to focus on something else. Something, the TV, the rug, the eating cat at her feet, anything!

Cartman frowned, seeing that something was wrong. "Wendy?"

"I..." Wendy was at a loss for words as she looked back at him again. "I HAVE TO GO!" She screamed as she jumped off the couch, ran out the door, and slammed it shut behind her faster then a bullet.

Cartman sighed.

*****
Several nights later, Stan and Wendy were at Stan's house, enjoying a warm pizza while watching "True Lies". The young boy was captivated by the explosive action scenes while his girlfriend kept getting entranced by the sight of Arnold on the screen. It was a quiet night for them as they watched the feature.

They had made up hours ago. Wendy had come over to Stan's place to apologize for throwing him out, and Stan had wanted to make it up to her for beating Cartman up so insensetively. They had had a long and meaningful discussion afterwards, and they both came to a conclusion. Unfortunately, Wendy knew straight away that she would have to talk to Cartman, as well, and she had no idea how she would do it.

"So, what do you want to do about Cartman?" Stan asked, his eyes glued to the screen, and his question shaking Wendy out of her thoughts. She looked at him, confused for a second. She had been so lost in her pondering that he had yanked her out of it back into reality, where she didn't know what he was talking about for a second.

Then reality came back to her, and she realized her boyfriend was talking to her. She fumbled over the answer. "O-o, well, I... I don't know..."

"Well, you had better get it done. The sooner you said "too bad so sad" to old Fatass, the better."

"Stan!"

"What's the matter, babe?"

"The 'fatass' as you refer to him, is still your friend. Be nice!"

"Be nice?" Stan laughed aloud. "To that fat asshole? Give me a fucking break."

Wendy was shocked. This was a side to Stan that she had never seen. Sure, she had seen him rip on Cartman lots of times. But never had she heard actual hatred in his voice when he was doing so. His voice was dripping with bitterness.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What's the big deal? It's not like you're gonna hook up with him, right?" Stan commented through the pizza crust in his mouth.

"..."

"Right?" He looked up at her, a little anxiously. "Wendy?"

No answer.

Stan really began to become afraid. The fear that she would say she didn't like him anymore like that bubbled up in his system. Fear that she would dump him for the fatass. Would she really do it?

He looked her square in the face, noticing that she tried her best to avoid eye cct. ct. But he grabbed her gently by the chin, and lifted her face to his frantically.

"Look me in the eye and tell you won't hook up with him!"

Wendy frowned for several moments, not knowing what to say. When she finally spoke, she was hesitant. She didn't know what to do in this predicament. Her boyfriend was forcing her into a situation that Wendy Testaburger had never imagined he would put her through.

"I don't know anymore, Stan. I keep going back and fourth. I mean, I love you. Don't get me wrong, but Cartman..." Wendy recalled the time she had kissed him at the debate. Thead bad been something there. She had felt a spark, but had decided to keep it buried. She had lied when she had told Cartman that her feelings had vanished, and she had never mentioned it again to anyone. When she had retired to her bed that night, she had had that dream about Cartman. The one with them rolling down the hill in that grassy field. When she had woken up, she had been dismayed, and yet oddly pleased, that the dream had not upset her that time.

"What? What about Cartman?"

"What?" Wendy blinked at him, then it all came back to her as her thoughts dissipated like smoke. "Oh. Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly," Wendy smiled at him. Stan grinned back, but when he turned his face back towards the TV, his expression was worried.

*****

The next morning, as Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman waited at the bus stop for Crabtree to pull up and take them to school, Stan walked up to the group, sneering at Cartman as he did so.

The fatass noticed, and his temper rose, not surprisingly.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"What the hell do you think is my problem, fatass? You tried to steal my girlfriend, douche bag!"

Cartman's anger flared up even higher to the point of being dangerously lethal to anyone who would ignite it. And, in this case, the subject of his rage was Stanley Marsh.

"FUCK YOU YOUR FUCKING HIPPIE!! YOU JUST CAN'T HANDLE THE FACT THAT I DON'T THROW UP ON CHICKS THAT TALK TO ME!!! UNLIKE CERTAIN ASSHOLES WHOM I CAN MENTION!!! SO WHAT'S YOUR GODDAMN EXCUSE?!!!!"

"That has nothing to do with this, ass-rammer! And you know it!"

"GODDAMN IT ASSFUCKER!!! JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH BEFORE I KICK YOU IN THE NUTS!!!"

"You guys! Knock it out!" Kyle tried to intervene, getting sick of listening to Cart's l's loud yelling, but the boys were too far into their fight to stop now.

"Go ahead and try it, you fat fucking freak!" Stan paused for a moment, then he said something that cut the last straw.

"At least my mother isn't an air-headed, crabs-infested, cocckincking, ass-licking crack whore with a dick!"

That worked like a charm. Cartman did not take well to people trash talking his mom.

"SCREW YOU!!!!!" Cartman lunged at Stan now, tackling the smaller boy onto his back and throwing furious punches, which, for the most part, connected with his jaw, face, and nose. Kyle and Kenny only watched, cheering Stan on as he retaliated by kicking Cartman in nuts. The fat boy cried out in pain and rolled off of the boy, giving Stan the opportunity to jump on him and plunge his thumb deep into Cartman's left eye, pushing on the eyeball.

Cartman screamed again, kicking Stan off of him, and then, putting all his rage and pent-up frustration into it, swung his fist across Stan's jaw. The boy had only been getting to his feet when the blow knocked him onto his back. Stan fell.

And hit his head on the curb.

Cartman lay there wheezing, as he tried to get all the adrenaline out of his system. The fight had taken a lot out of him, but he felt oddly rejuvenated, as if he recovered from some physical illness. His anger had been buried inside him for so long, that it had felt refreshing to unleash it all upon something. Thennotinoticed something that, deep down, chilled him to the bone.

Stan was just lying there, his head still resting against the street curb, where some blood was beginning to form on the asphalt. The boy's eyes were closed. Was he breathing?

Feeling fear well up inside him, Cartman clenched his eyes shut and silently counted to ten. This was just a bad dream. He was sitting on the curb, near the seriously injured body of his friend. He was in his bed, tossing in his sleep as he lived this dream. The fatass reached ten, and opened his eyes, hoping, no, LONGING, to be in his bed, with the bright rays of the early morning sun shining upon him through the window.

Oh, god.

"Cartman, what did you do?" Kyle whispered in shock, bringing authenticity to the fact that this was real, and that, no, it was not a dream. He could only stare at Stan's inept form. He couldn't form words. He had always been a hardass to them, true, but he never actually thought that he could seriously HURT one of them.

"I... I didn't mean to... It was an accident..." But Cartman could tell from the fire in Kyle's eyes that he either didn't believe the words or just didn't care. And then the Jewish Boy was running, leaving him, Kenny, and Stan behind as he rushed back to his house to call the paramedics. Cartman looked desperately at Kenny, hoping that the poor kid would say or do something to make him feel better. But Kenny gave him nothing.

Cartman started to panic, and he could only sit there on his ass, staring at Stan's unmoving body, truly, deeply horrified by his actions.

Even as he heard the loud wail of the sirens as they approached rapidly less then a minute later.

*****
The young girl sighed as she sat in the small cushioned chair set up in the corner of the room. Stan had been brought here to the hospital in a state of emergency by the paramedics hours ago, and Wendy didn't entirely know what had happened. She was worried about Cartman. Well, she was anxious for Stan's recovery as well, but she was also thinking about the fatassed boy whom she suspected might have done this to her boyfriend.

She knew, she just KNEW, deep in her instinct, that Cartman had seriously injured Stan. She was going to talk to him severely when, if, he showed his face around here. Let him know that he could not get away with this shit. Wendy hadn't been enraged since the incident with Miss Ellen, but this was worse. Far worse.

She was highly fucking pissed off.

Listening to the heart rate of the unconscious in tin the bed beep on the machine, Wendy crossed to the window and looked out at the mountain landscape spread out before her, seething. That asshole had put her beloved Stan into a coma, and all because he had had feelings for her. That had to be the reason.

She knew that he had always hated Stan, more so lately. He had probably attacked her man to get him out of the way, to get rid of the competition. She hadn't spoken to Kyle or Kenny yet, but she was hoping to do so. If either of them confirmed her suspicions, Cartman would hurt someone no more. She would swear to it. Stan's state of health was certainly not an accident.

Wendy knew right then that she had never hated Eric Theodore Cartman as much she did right then. He had deceived her, pretended to be warm and caring. He had actually made her believe that a kind soul lurked beneath the childish rage and the massive weight. Then he had turned on a dime and did this unholy act. No one puts her boyfriend into a coma and gets away with it!

The brunette recalled how frantic Stan's parents had been when they had entered the room and saw their only son lying silently in a white hospital bed, eyes closed, the blood covered by the bandages that covered hntirntire scalp like a hat. Sharon Marsh had broken down almost instantly. Her sobs had pierced Wendy's ears as Randy had massaged his wife soothingly, trying to relax her through reasoning that nothing could be done. Wendy, who had stayed in the room the entire room, had felt like crying herself, but did not want to give in to despair. The only things that kept her going was that she knew Stan would wake at some point, and the repeating thought that she would find Cartman if he had indeed done this.

Time for some wrongs to be righted. Cartman would pay most dearly. The sympathy she had once felt for him now replaced by a blinding fury the could be compared to hell's wrath.

Wendy just stared at the snow falling quietly and gently outside as her rage built up like a fierce volcano inside her.

*****

Kyle, as well as Kenny, sat in the waiting room next to Stan's parents. All of them feeling tired and broken. This had been an almost unbearable event for any of them, but what else could they do but wait? Stan was in there, comatose as a result of massive head wounds, and nothing could said or done to change it. This could not be taken back.

Which sucked, cause Kyle knew that if he could have, he would have done so without hesitating even a second. Stan's injury, thankfully, was not fatal, but who knew when or even if he would ever open his eyes again? The doctors had speculated to the Marshes that the damage to the cerebral cortex had been extensive, and that the skull fracture had the patient into a state of self-immobilized shock. Kyle had had no clue what that meant in English, but he was old enough to recognize that it didn't sound good.

Kyle sighed, and waited, and watched for any possible news from the doctor.

*****

Cartman sighed as he walked in through the swinging doors of the Hell's Pass hospital. He knew he shouldn't be here. He didn't want to be here. But he was worried about his friend. Stan hopefully was all right now.

Passing by the waiting room on his way to directory, where he wanted to get Stan's room number from the on-call nurse stationed there, Cartman noticed Kyle jump up from his seat, and stride quickly towards him.

Knowing he had no choice, Eric sighed and stopped walking, allowing the Jewish boy to catch up with him. "What do you want, Jew Boy?"

Kyle let his angry glare be his answer. "What do you think I want? I want to know what you're doing here."

Cartman started to feel uncomfortable. "What happened to Stan was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt him. I just lost control for a few seconds."

"And you think that makes it all okay?!"

"Goddamnit Kyle! Just back off!"

"Screw you, Cartman! Get the hell outta here!"

Cartman was getting frustrated. He just wanted to check on Stan, and here Kyle was, blocking his path. "Kyle, I'm not gonna do anything, all right?! I just want to him!him!"

"Yeah fucking right!"

That was when Wendy showed up. She had gotten tired of just sitting and waiting in Stan's room and was on her way to get a snack from the vending machine in the main lobby, but her hunger was forgotten when she spotted Eric and Kyle arguing.

She walked up to them and looked angrily at Cartman, her expression matching Kyle's. "What the hell do you want, Cartman?"

"To see how Stan is doing. What else?"

Kyle sneered. "Maybe hurt him some more like you did earlier."

Wendy looked at them both, shocked, and angered. She also felt a bit triumphant. Her suspicions had been correct after all!

"Get the hell out Cartman. You're not wanted here!"

"Give me a second! Stan's injury was an accident!"

"I don't care!" Wendy shouted in his chubby face. "You harassed me. You put my boyfriend into a coma, which he may never wake up from, and I am sick to death of you! You need to understand that I don't have ANY feelings for you! The only feelings I have for you is disgust and repulsion! You are fat, you are nasty, and you suck ass! I want nothing more to do with you, and I don't think Stan will either, if he ever wakes up!! GET THE HELL OUT NOW!!!"

The fatass looked at her, more then a little stung er wer words. "But, Wendy, I was just trying to..."

She pushed him backwards. "I SAID GET OUT!!"

Cartman looked by both of their angry faces. They hated him truly. He could see it in their eyes. He glanced at Wendy. Her jaw was set, and her eyelid was twitching. There was no way he could get into Stan's room, and definitely no way Wendy would ever speak to him again.

He sighed and turned towards the door, his shoulders slumped. The pain he had felt at being called fat before was nothing like the agony he felt now. Guilt, rejection, and sadness. All emotions were running through Cartman's psyche, and it hurt worse now then it ever had before.

*****

The images flashed before his eyes again. Just like every night since he was eight years old, the events played before him, the clarity and detail of it all as clear and solid as if it were a he was watching on a DVD player. It had been more than a decade since it had happened, but the memories wouldn't stop. They plagued him to no end, plunging his psyche into another fresh bout of guilt every time he slept.

He mumbled in his slumber, trying to shake the memories and the guilt, but of course they wouldn't go peacefully. They haunted him. It played over and over again in his dr Sta Stan's blood. The injury. The day at the hospital when he had been rejected by his friends, shunned by everyone he had ever truly cared about.

"NO!" Cartman was awakened by his own traumatized screams. It took him a few seconds to rid himself of the images, and another few seconds to remember where he was.

He was in his juvenile cell, of course. Cell block D at Alamosa Juvenile hall. It was where he had been for the last 13 years. He had been arrested at his home for one count of physical assault shortly after hospitalizing Stanley Marsh, who thankfully had survived and had awakened from his coma fairly quickly, going home three weeks after his admittance.

Eric Cartman was 21 now, and set to be released this very day. Thank god.

The place had changed him, both physically and mentally, and the boy knew it. Several years of doing yard work and public labor had eaten away at his fat, and Cartman was now a much more thin, and much more buff guy now. He would almost have been handsome, if the guilt of what he had done didn't leave lines on his face at such a young age.

It wasn't so much Stan's hospitalization that had scarred him, but Wendy's reaction when she had found what he had done. She had scorned him. Rejected him. That day, he had gone home feeling something he had never felt before: sadness.

Then he had found the police waiting for him, and he had seen his way out. The possible escape from having to deal with anyone's accusing stares. The whispered rumors at school. The humiliation had been bad already. He didn't need to go to school, and be put through worse by the other students.

So he had given himself up, and spent 13 years of his life in Juvie Hall.

But now he was going home, and he couldn't escape his past no longer. Soon, it would all catch up to him, and he would have to face the music from Wendy and very possibly Kyle and Kenny as well.

He wondered if they still hated him. Of course they did. Why wouldn't they? It had been his fault that Stan went to the medical ward, and they were all damn lucky he hadn't died, but still...

"All right, Cartman! Pack it up and say goodbye!"

Goodbye, comfy yet harsh prison walls. You've kept me safe, but now it's time to go. Cartman found himself almost chuckling at these thoughts for some reason. What was he thinking?

For the last time in his life, Eric Theodore Cartman, aged 21, took one last look at his gray brick-walled cell before grabbing his travel bag and walking out through the opened iron door.

Freedom, here I come, he thought. Time to start over.

*****

"So, Cartman's coming home today, huh?" Wendy chirped as she, Stan, and Kyle drove through the small town area of their old hometown in Stan's tan SUV. Kyle was in the backseat. He nodded.

"Yeah, his mom told me about it when I saw her at the grocery store last night. He's being released today. From what she told me, he's completely changed."

Wendy glared at him harshly. "Cartman will always be Cartman, no matter what."

"Wendy," Stan spoke, his voice cutting into the convtiontion. "It's been years. Let it go. I forgave him for what he did years ago."

"Me too," Kyle agreed. "I still get angry thinking about it, but it's in the past. I bet he's sorry about it now. It was just an accident."

Stan nodded, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at them. "Yeah. Besides, it was partially my fault. I flew off the handle and look wheregot got me. Cartman was only defending himself."

Wendy just sat there, arms crossed. She knew there ere probably right, but it was so hard to admit, even to herself, that Cartman was sorry about what he had done and that it was time to let bygones be bygones. Maybe when she saw him again, she forgive him.

But right now, she was just still too angry.

*****

Cartman looked around as he entered through the front door of his childhood home. It was odd how unfamiliar it felt to him now. He had been in Alamosa for so many years that being back home was... strange. Almost hostile, in an unfamiliar sense.

But he was home.

He would see his friends soon for the first time in 13 years. And he couldn't wait.

But at the same time, he felt nervous about it...

*****

She slept soundly, her breathing ragged. The young girl dreamed again. It was a familiar one, a dream that she had not had since she was 8 years old. It was all happening again, for the first time in years...

Only, unlike the dream of old, she saw herself and the subject of her sleeping vision as the adults they were now, instead of the children that they had been back then.

"Oh, Cartman. Say it will be like this forever."

"Okay. It will be like this forever."

She woke up, gasping. In all these years, she had almost forgotten that and now it had come back to haunt her. What the hell was wrong with her all of a sudden?

Wendy sat in her bed, trying to shake away the feeling of pleasure that it had left her. Goddamn. She had to deal with this, and fast. If she didn't, her mixed emotions would almost certainly drive her insane in no time.

Why was she feeling this? Where had her anger gone? Eric Cartman had hurt Stan, and, though Stan and Kyle had forgiven him for it, she couldn't. She was still too pissed about it. But now, she only felt satisfaction by the mere fathoming of being with Cartman. Wendy felt confused. Could she actually be in love with and and not even know it?

Was that why she had dreams about him?

She had been attracted to him for that short period when they had been kids, but that had just been a phase... or so she had thought.

But now, whenever she reflected on it, Wendy had to admit to herself that a part of her spirit soared at the thought of HIM. Something about his personality ignited wild sparks inside of her, and now that he had lost the weight, he was actually more handsome, which was appealing. And he had changed inwardly, as well, which was even more appealing.

But if she chose Cartman, it would hurt Stan. Wouldn't it?

She sat in the dark for several hours, tossing this difficult choice in her mind. She had had Stan, sure, and she loved him deeply, but lately, he had just been too... old school for her. He spent time with her, true, but as time had passed since those happy days of 3rd grade, so too do people change. He wasn't what he used to be. Stan had become more moody, more withdrawn from her. It was almost as if she had said or done something that pushed him away.

They still talked, but he never barfed on her anymore.

Wendy laughed quietly at the thought. Yeah, it was a silly thing to pay attention to, a childish thing. But it was the only thing, the only way that Wendy knew he loved her.

With that gone, how could she know for sure?

*****

"So, she doesn't know?" The young blonde asked, lying on Stan's bed next to him, arms wrapped around each other as they were in the process of their heavy make-out session.

"Nah, Wendy has no clue. I never even dropped any hints. She thinks I'm loyal."

Trish laughed wickedly, and looked into his eyes. "The dumb bitch."

"Hey! Don't call her that. She's not a bitch."

"Whatever," Stan moved in for a kiss, but she turned away, thinking.

"I'm tired of sneaking around. When are you going to tell her?! It's been two months now. It's time you let her know that it's over between you two."

Stan smirked. "I can't. At least, not right now. I have to wait until the timing's right."

Trish looked frustrated. "What timing?! Just tell her and break it off! What's the big deal?!"

"The big deal is that I have no desire to do so."

So I have to wait around until you get to it?" Trish looked him in the eyes very seriously.

"Either you tell her about us soon, or I will, Stan. I'm not going to wait around forever."

Stan juigheighed as she grabbed her jacket and walked out angrily. So much for making out. Still, she was right. Maybe telling Wendy about his cheating would be for the best for him and Trish.

But it would hurt her, he knew it. And he didn't know how to do this lightly.

He would just have to be blunt about it. Say "Wendy, it's over. I'm with someone else." and hope she took it well. Yes, there would be tears, but they would still be friends hopefully.

He and Trish heen een involved for two months now. They had met at Kyle's last birthday. For a while, they had been only friends. But then one night, they had gotten drunk at Kyle's apartment, and engaged in adult relations. Stan and Trish had woken up the next morning, and despite their panic and confusion, they admitted that they were attracted to each other. Stan had been cheating on Wendy ever since.

When he told her, finally let her know the truth, she would cry. But he would not. He would just watch as she cried out her sorrows. And then he would go to Trish's place, and let her know it was over between him and Wendy, and then they would be fully together, at last.

He couldn't wait. Being with Trish was going to be awesome.

But first he had to clean up his vomit.

*****

Cartman lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been home for three days now, and he hadn't left the house for anything. Not for exercise, not to familiarize himself again, nothing. Why couldn't he draw up the motivation to just go and talk to his childhood friends again?

Maybe he was just scared. He didn't know how they would react upon seeing him again. Maybe they would still be angry. Maybe they would try to hurt him again.

He hoped not. But he still didn't want to see them. He wished he did, though. Even if they beat his ass, at least the fear would be over. He could get on with his life, and they would very possibly be friends again.

He hoped, but he also wondered.
*****
Wendy couldn't believe what she had heart cot couldn't be true. The girl who had just called was lying. She had to be. There was no way Stan would ever cheat on her. It wasn't possible. Right?

The black-haired girl sighed, her depression and confusion rampaging through her emotions. The mysterious caller had stated quite simply that her boyfriend had been cheating. The unknown voice on the other end had given Wendy every detail.

She was also told to talk to Kyle Broflovski if she wanted confirmation of this.

Wendy stared at the phone for several long seconds after her mystery caller had hung up, the dial tone ringing in her ears. Too stunned to hang up or do anything else but ponder this new revelation. Could it be true?

If it was, so help her god, Stan would pay. Her parents had a gun cabinet in the She She was pretty sure she could find a nice pistol. Wendy knew her way of thinking was completely off the wall, but she couldn't help it. Didn't want to help it. The stress of possibly being cheated was too emotionally draining for her to bear.

Stan, cheating on her? With another girl? It wasn't right. It wasn't true. But if it was, then Stan would die. She would see to it single-handedly.

Wendy glanced at the phone. She would call him, invite her man over. Her parents were gone, and the gun she planned to use was a silencer. He wouldn't have a chance, if he was cheating on her and everything that she had learned was true.

She dug through the wooden structure for a while, searching for the right one. Where was it? It had to be here somewhere. Ahh! Here it was! The girl smiled sadistically at the steel weapon as she held it close to her face, staring intently at it. Studying every detail.

She would question Stan first. If he admitted his guilt, or if he gave her any kind of indication that he was lying if he denied it, any body language that said he was not being honest, well...

She loved Stan very dearly, and could not bear to lose him to anyone else.

Wendy would kill him before she would ever let that happen.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

*****

Stan whistled jovially on his way to Wendy's house. It was a beautiful day for a make-out session, which was probably why she had called and told him to come by. He knew her parents were away at a PTA meeting for her little sister, who was at his house, being baby-sat by Shelley. Wendy was all alone at her house.

He felt cheerful. Sure, he felt bad for cheating on her, and, sure, Trish wanted him to tell her, which he definitely would tonight. But first, maybe they could fool around one last time.

Her heart would be broken, but, oh, well. Childhood crushes didn't last forever anyway.

Reaching her house, Stan rang the bell. "Wendy?"

*****

He was here. Time to find out once and for all. Stan's final fate depended on his answer. Wendy loaded the gun, sliding it casually into her pants pocket. He would never notice it until it was too late. She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, making sure that she looked casual. If she appeared stressed or nervous, he would start asking questions.

Which would not bode well at all for this plan.

Luckily, Wendy was cool, and composed. Her emotionless face gave away nothing.

The bell rang again. "Hello?"

'Time to get this over with, Wendy girl', she thought to herself. Putting on a fake smile, she went to the door and opened it, allowing him to come inside. "Hi, Stan."

"Hey, Wendy. I came right over. So, do you wanna do this here, or up in your room?"

She stared at him for a few seconds, wondering what he meant. Then it came to her, and Wendy almost laughed.

He was falling for it. Good. Let him think that she wanted to fool around. She would play along. Partly because she wanted it. Partly to allow hi low lower his guard.

"Right here looks fine, Stan."

"Okay."

They kissed for a little while, tongues lashing against each other. They both moaned. Stan's mind was focused on taking it all the way, on getting lucky. But Wendy kept hearing that caller's whispered words.

"He's cheating on you..."

She pushed him away for a second, and Stan looked at her, slightly annoyed. "What's the problem?"

She hesitated before speaking. "Stan... you love me... right?"

He avoided her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

There it was, proof positive that he was lying. He had always looked into her eyes before. But Wendy didn't get upset about it. At least, not physically. She only smiled sweetly.

"Stan?"

"Yes, babe?"

"Would you close your eyes? I have a surprise for you."

Stan did so. Wendy quietly and soundlessly pulled the small pistol from her pocket, talking as she did so.

"I got a phone call today, Stanley. Whoever it was had some interesting news." Luckily, his eyes remained closed as they talked. If he had opened them, her plan might have gone wrong.

"News about what?"

"They said you were cheating on me."

That was the last straw. Stan opened his eyes in shock, too late to react as Wendy pointed the nuzzle of the pistol at his temple and fired.

*****

Kyle Broflovski fumbled with his apartment keys. It had been a busy night at the party with Bebe, and the Jewish boy was exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed, and sleep the rest of the night away.

He cursed under his breath as he opened the door and stepped inside. When he saw the place was empty, he frowned. It was late, and Stan, his roommate, should be home by now. Whehe hhe hell was he?

Probably at Wendy's or his parents house. No problem.

Kyle went into the bathroom, intending to brush his teeth before going to bed. Looking into the mirror, that's when he noticed it. The curtain had been drawn closed around the shower/bathtub behind him, and something was lying in it.
Kyle stepped over to it, carefully drawing the curtain back, and then he began to scream. His panicked mind tried to convince that this wasn't real, that he was dreaming this up. But Kyle knew better.

There, in a tub filled by his own blood, Stan's dead eyes stared up at him, his face an expression of surprise...

*****
Kyle weeped silently, his tears flowing like a waterfall down his face. He couldn't believe it. It wasn't happening. This was too impossible. Stan dead? NO.

But he knew in his heart that it was real.

It had been two days since Stan's body had been found. Now Kyle, along with Cartman, Kenny, Wendy, and all of Stan's other friends and all of his family, were at the funeral. Kyle thought, through tear-studded eyes, that he was glad the coffin lid was closed.

Seeing his best friend like that in the bathtub had nearly destroyed his mind with shock.

Looking at his face while he was being lowered might have made it worse.

The Jewish Youth's tears fell, sliding onto the ground as he watched the coffin lower into the ground. How had this happened? Barbrady, the incompetent that he was, had instantly ruled this as a suicide, despite evidence that proved otherwise.

Stan hadn't been depressed. He had been happy, full of life. He had made plans with Kyle a week ago to go on a road trip to California. The trip wouldn't happen now, but why would Stan have made plans with him if he had wanted to kill himself? Not to mention the question of where the gun had gone after Stan's "suicide".

It still hadn't been found. If Stan had shot himself, the weapon would've been in his hand at least. But it hadn't been. The fact that the gun used in Stan's death was missing proved, to Kyle at least, that something else had happened. Something that hadn't been a suicide.

But what?

Kyle had no idea.

He glanced across the area at Wendy. She was standing by herself, her tears shedding. Did she... WOULD she have had some involvement?

No, that was crazy. Nobody loved Stan more then Wendy Testaburger, Kyle knew. She would never, in any possible way, have killed him. And yet--

Kyle had known that for some time, Stan had been cheating on Wendy, with a girl he had met at a party named Trish. What if Wendy had somehow found out and...

'Stop it' he said to himself mentally. 'You're just thinking crazy'.

Kyle turned his gaze away from Wendy and forced himself to focus on the other attendees, his paranoid thoughts gone almost instantly.

*****

Cartman sobbed for a long while, trying to think of what to do or say that would make all of this right. Back as a child, he had never fully appreciated his friendship with Stan. Now that Stan was gone, Eric realized what he had been missing.

And what was worse was that he'd never have another chance. Stan was dead and gone forever, and Cartman never got to talked to him. Never got the opportunity to make up for putting his friend into that coma all those years ago. He'd give anything to see Stan alive again.

The former fatass sat at his window seat, staring at the distant mountain peak, as the sun vanished, its' bright rays illuminating the landscape. Next to him lay the opened box of cheesy poofs which seemed to almost signal him somehow. Call him crazy, but it did.

Cartman sighed and flung the box across the room, making a perfect basket in the trash can. He just wasn't hungry right now.

*****

Busy in her room, vacuuming the floor, Wendy hummed happily as she swerved the cleaner across the carpeted padding. She had felt sad when she had been forced to kill Stan, and almost distraught when she had gone to his funeral. But she had also felt... jubilation.

She had felt right in his murder. Like it was her fate to do so. Make the cheating boyfriend pay.

She almost laughed at that thought. Stan had paid the price, all right.

Humming, lost in excitement, Wendy almost didn't hear the knock on her door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and some blonde girl with hair down to her waist entered. Her eyes were hazel, and her figure was exquisite. In spite of her surprise, Wendy found herself wishing her figure looked perfect like that.

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Trish." The blonde girl extended her hand. "I'm the girl Stan cheated on you with."

Wendy only stared, her sudden fury rising deep inside.

*****

Kyle walked to Wendy's house, the cold October wind billowing his red hair around. He had, osuddsudden impulse, decided to go visit the girl. He wanted to see how she was dealing with things now that her boyfriend was... absent.

He was standing in front of her house, about to step up onto the porch when he heard the gunshot.

He rushed onto the porch and inside the house without a second's thought.

*****

"So, it IS true?" Wendy's question voiced her suspicions.

"Yes."

Wendy looked at Trish wearily. "So then... why are you telling me? I'm sure you know what happened."

"Yeah, I know. I just came because of closure, I guess."

That was all Wendy needed to hear. Before Trish could scream, the insane brunette raised the pistol, the same one she had used on Stan, at Trish's forehead.

*****

Wendy laughed sadistically. This kill had taken her last bullet, but it had been worth it. The bitch and the cheating jerk were both gone. They should've known better then to fuck with Wendy Testaburger.

Now all she had to do was clean up the blood and get rid of Trish's body before anybody saw it.

Easier said then done. Wendy was surprised to hear the voice from the door ask, in a stunned tone, "Wendy, what did you fucking do?"

She turned and looked. Kyle stared at her in silent shock.
*****
Wendy sat silently, staring out the barred window. It wasn't fun, being here. The prison system had run the girl ragged, and she had only been here for three weeks. She had been arrested at her house after Kyle had found her standing over Trish's body .

It had been a media circus. The press had been there at her arrest, shouting questions at the young girl as she was led, handcuffed, into the Park County Courthouse. The trial had been labeled "Trial Of The Decade". It had played non-stop on television cameras for over a year. Finally, after countless arguments from the defense system, and numerous evidence, Wendy Testaburger had been tried and convicted after pleading Temporary Insanity for her crimes. The jury had bought the plea, and Wendy was sentenced to serve a maximum of eleven years in prison, to be released immediately upon a $250,000 bail.

She sighed and looked out at the rising sun. It was going to be long time before she'd ever see her mother and her friends again.

*****

2 Years Later.

Cartman perspired heavily, panting with exhaustion as he helped his boss unload the truck. He had been working at the local Gap, in downtown Denver, for the last two years, trying to save money to get Wendy freed upon posted bail. He had put every dollar he had made in the bank, and he was just $500 short of freeing the girl he had been waiting for for years.

He didn't hate her in the least for killing Stan. In Cartman's eyes, the bastard had cheated, and had gotten what he had deserved. Wendy couldn't have done a better job, in his opinion.

Not that it had ever been proven that Wendy had killed Stan. But Cartman was pretty sure she had. Kyle had told him about Stan's fling with Trish, and Cartman knew Wendy enough to know that she would not have taken it lightly. She would've reacted with violence.

Not that it mattered now. Stan and Trish were both dead and gone.

Cartman panted as he carried in the boxes with his bare hands. This was sure a nice workout, lifting all these heavy contents. For once in his life, the former fatass almost ed bed beefy, and not in the Weight-Gain-4000 sense. But truly muscular.

He grinned. He would get paid handsomely the following week for all the hours he had put in, and he would earn enough to get Wendy freed.

*****

Wendy was shaken out of her sleep by the prison guard knocking on the bars of her cell. She blinked sleepily and glared. What the hell did he want?

"Wake up, Testaburger. You've got a visitor."

The girl was startled. Kyle and/or Kenny had come to see her? Neither of them had wanted anything to do with her, both swearing vehemently that she was dead to them. The pain of losing Stan, and then finding Trish dead as well, had set suspicions in their minds.

But if they were here to see her, maybe she could win them back.

Entering the visitor's booth, where the glass frame separated the prisoners from their visitors, Wendy was surprised. It wasn't Kyle or Kenny after all, but her companion WAS a familiar face, though it had become mslenslender since she had last seen him.

Cartman smiled and nodded to the phone. Wendy grabbed her receiver and placed it against her ear. "What do you want?" Her voice was steel.

The boy winced. He hadn't expected pure hatred. "I just wanted to let you know I almost got enough money for your bail."

"Don't bother. I don't deserve it."

"Wendy..."

"I killed that girl. And I killed Stan. I don't need to be freed. I need to serve my time."

Cartman frowned. This was so unlike Wendy. He began to get concerned. "Look, Wendy, what happened to Trish and Stan was not all your fault."

She sighed. "What do you mean 'not all my fault'?"

"You were the victim of a jealous rage. You lost control. You couldn't help but do what you did. Stan and Trish drove you to it. It's their fault as much as it is yours."

"But I'm the one who pulled the trigger both times."

"Look, Wendy, do you remember when we were kids?"

"What about it?" "I a"I always hated you as a child. You always made fun of me, and thought you were better then I was, because I was a fatass back then. Now, things have changed. We're different now. I don't hate you, and I'm pretty sure you aren't so opinionated of yourself anymore."

"What are you saying to me?" Cartman paused before responding. What was that secret glow in Wendy's eyes? He cleared his throat before speaking his next words.

"I'm saying that I can get you out of here. I can give you back your old life. I can give you everything the way it used to be, before the slammer."

"You can't give me Stan."

"I can give you myself."

Wendy stared at the brown-haired boy watching her intently. Was he serious? He wanted to give her a second chance? A hope of starting over? For what? What did he hope to get out of it? She voiced her question to Cartman, and when he responded, his words were low and ses.
s.

"Look, I used to be an asshole. I changed that. I used to be fat. That's different now, too. Everything about me is different. The only thing that hasn't gone away is my certainty. You are a beautiful woman. You are fun, and kind, and... I want to be with you. I want to help you get out because I want us to give it a try."

Wendy paused, looking at his face. He really was quite handsome, and his actions, ng tng to save money just for her bail, showed that he really cared about her. She found herself suddenly considering it, what being Cartman's girl would be like. Did she feel the same way about him? She thought about it, taking a moment to search her own soul. Her feelings made it perfectly clear to her right then, at that very second.

She looked at him, and c onl only sum it up in two words.

"I..."
*****
Wendy stared at the face before her, that kind expression watching her eagerly. Cartman had

really slimmed down in the last few years. It was unbelievable. Now he looked scrawny, and his

personality had changed as well. He was nicer now, more composed.

But why was he here? Before she could ask him, Cartman's voice broke into her thoughts.

"I always hated you as a child. You alwayde fde fun of me, and thought you were better then I

was, because I was a fatass back then. Now, things have changed. We're different now. I don't

hate you, and I'm pretty sure you aren't so opinionated of yourself anymore."

"What are you saying to me?" Cartman paused before responding. What was that secret glow in

Wendy's eyes? He cleared his throat before speaking his next words.

"I'm saying that I can get you out of here. I can give you back your old life. I can give you

everything the way it used to be, before the slammer."

"You can't give me Stan."

"I can give you myself."

Wendy stared at the brown-haired boy watching her intently. Was he serious? He wanted to give

her a second chance? A hope of starting over? For what? What did he hope to get out of it? She

voiced her question to Cartman, and when he responded, his words were low and serious.

"Look, I used to be an asshole. I changed that. I used to be fat. That's different now, too.

Everything about me is different. The only thing that hasn't gone away is my certainty. You

are a beautiful woman. You are fun, and kind, and... I want to be with you. I want to help

you get out becaI waI want us to give it a try."

Wendy paused, looking at his face. He really was quite handsome, and his actions, trying to

save money just for her bail, showed that he really cared about her. She found herself

suddenly considering it, what being Cartman's girl would be like. Did she feel the same

way about him? She thought about it, ta a m a moment to search her own soul. Her feelings

made it perfectly clear to her right then, at that very second.

She looked at him, and could only sum it up in two words.

"I..."

He watched her hopefully, praying, hoping. She would say yes. He knew she would.

"I... have to think about it."

Cartman's face fell. Why did she have to say that? That was like saying no, and it hurt. But

he knew he couldn't change her mind, so he decided to leave it at that.

"Okay," Cartman's tone mirrored his emotions, and Wendy regretted her choice immediately. "I'll

just leave then."

Wendy tried to stop him, but it was useless. Cartman just walked away, shoulders drooped like a

defeated dog. The guard came and escorted the young girl back to her cell.

*****

2 weeks later.

She sat alone, cold, miserable. The jail cell had suddenly seemed foreboding since Cartman's

visit. The walls suddenly seemed sinister, somehow. This place had become even gloomier then

since she had first gotten here.

Wendy lay on her cot, staring at the ceiling. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Did he

really a l a lot to her, now that Stan was out of the picture? Wendy Testaburger thought

seriously about the boy. He was really sweet, and he obviously cared a lot about her.

Why hadn't she said yes?

"Testaburger!" The warden's rumbling voice startled Wendy, and she fell out of her bed onto the

stone floor. Stifling a laugh, she got to her feet and walked over to the bars of her

cell. "What?"

The Warden responded by unlocking the door, and pulling it open.

Wendy looked at him shocked. What in the hell?

"You're free."

*****

Kyle stared hatefully at Cartman. The Jewish youth could not believe what the former fatass had told him. It couldn't be true. Cartman and WENDY?!

"Your thing for her, dude." He shook his head. "It's in bad taste."

"Why is it in bad taste?"

"Because we're talking about Stan's ex-girlfriend here! It's sick!"
tmantman started to look pissed, that old familiar angry glare crossing his face again. "Dude, I am in love with her. Stan's dead. What's the big deal?"

"Cartman, I should seriously kick your ass for even asking that! Besides, she wouldn't look at you anyways."

Cartman was about to respond when a knock came on the door. Kyle opened it, revealing Wendy,

out of her prison clothes and wearing a green jacket. She smiled when she saw Cartman. She went to him and hugged him.

Cartman hugged her back, too surprised to do anything else.

"So you paid my bail, huh?" The girl's sulfuric voice sent shivers down Cartman's spine.

"Yeah, cause like I said, Jail is no place for you."

Wendy smiled, not seeing the shocked expression of the Jew standing behind her. "Well, I know where my place is."

Cartman swallowed hard, anticipating these words. "And where is that?"

She replied by kissing him before pulling away. "With you."

Cartman and Wendy embraced again, neither one noticing Kyle in the room, who was too stunned

to say anything to either of them.

They were too lost in each other.

The End.

Well... any opinions? It was hard work writing this story, but I really enjoyed doing it because I know you, my fans, enjoyed reading it, and I hope any reviews for this chapter are good. Until my next fic, take care of yourselves!