Work Text:
Wilbur lay awake, the moonlight casting it's glow upon his face through the tiny window of his cart.
The days events echoed in his mind.
He had started with his normal magic act, making small things float, pulling flowers from thin air and conjuring flocks of white doves.
The children in the audience laughed joyously and clapped their hands, and Wilbur loved every second.
Then the shouts had started.
Again.
You do magic? Then fix my leg!
Please sir, heal our daughter, she's sick-
Make my son well!
My wife has a terrible fever and-
Our baby is dieing!
please.
Please!
PLEASE!
HELP US!
It made Wilbur feel sick every time he was forced to tell hurting people he could do nothing for them. He told them, hopelessly, to go to the doctor that they surely couldn't afford.
Suddenly the weak fabric of his night clothing tore, (aka his day coat) and Wilbur sighed and picked up a small bottle of glue, putting it in his pocket.
I'll fix that tomorrow.
Wilbur fell asleep to desperate screams playing through his mind.
*****
Ouch.
Wilbur shrugged and rolled over. Was it morning already? It didn't seem to be light yet.
He snuggled deeper into his bed of rocks.
Wait.
He shot up, falling off of a pile of shards he had been sleeping on. The little pebbles cascaded around his as he smiled to the bottom, feeling it rip more holes in his clothes. He groaned in dismay.
I'll have to fix that too.
He looked around in a daze, but much more awake then had been seconds ago, because he had fallen asleep in his cart and woken up on a bunch of rocks.
Surrounding him as far as he could see was rubble, dust still hanging in the air. Wilbur stepped forward and heard a sharp crack. He bent down and carefully picked up what he had stepped on.
Shattered porcelain.
As his gaze scanned the horizon, he realized that every destroyed building, which looked like they had once been small cottages, was made of porcelain as well.
Crunch!
Wilbur startled and looked down.
Oh. A life-sized doll. Makes sense. Just some weird art display thing.
Then, faintly over the breeze, he heard a very, very quiet sound.
Crying.
Wilbur listened closer, and heard soft sobs.
He ran to the nearest house wreckage, frantically searching for the source of the sound.
"P-please H-help me!"
Wilbur overturned a large piece of porcelain rubble, and beneath it, found the source of the crying.
A child.
A tiny boy, only about four feet tall, with smooth glass skin and little chiseled blond curls and bright, sky blue paint eyes.
Wilbur blinked in shock, but knelt in front of the little boy quickly. There were little painted tears running down the boy's rosy cheeks.
"What's wrong?"
Wilbur asked the boy gently, starring at the way the painted tears clung to his eyelashes.
The boy sniffed wetly, and then began to hiccup, and sobbed loudly,
"My legs and my-my a-arm are broken! I can't get up and I c-can't move and I'm scared!"
Oh.
Wilbur saw that indeed, the boy's legs had both been snapped clean off, lying in pieces on the ground. One of the boy's arms was also in small shards on the ground, and the crack from the remains of his arm ran all the way up to the boy's chin.
The boy used his one remaining hand to scrub at his eyes, trying to stand on the absent limbs he once had, before falling back to the ground with a small whimper and beginning to cry again, looking down in tears at his hopelessly shattered legs.
Wilbur's heart broke.
"I- I'm so-" Wilbur's words got caught in his throat, and he stuck his hands in his pockets. Somehow this small, shattered glass boy was the hardest person he had ever had to tell he just couldn't help.
Wait.
Wilbur lit up.
"I'm so glad!"
The boy stopped crying for a second and looked up at him.
"Why? Is it your birthday?" Then the child gasped. "Is it MY birthday?!"
Wilbur smiled to himself.
So cute...
"No! Because I have just the thing to fix your legs, and your arm!"
Wilbur lowered his voice mysteriously as the child gazed at him with wide eyes,
"A magic paste from far away, that will make them good as new!"
Please work please work please work-
Wilbur dramatically whipped the small bottle of glue out of his coat pocket.
"REALLY?"
The child gasped, gazing up in wonder.
"Really truly!"
Wilbur picked the boy up and set him on his lap. He was surprisingly warm, but that could have just been Wilbur's heart melting when the boy's tiny hand held his own. Wilbur smiled down gently, and met the boy's vivid eyes.
"Stay still, okay sweetheart? You're so brave"
The child sat very carefully, still wiggling a little from excitement, but Wilbur managed hold him still long enough to glue his legs and arm back together, and the reattach them to his small porcelain body.
"There you go"
Wilbur helped the boy to his feet, guiding him as he took a single, shaky step.
Then another and another and another -
The boy spun around suddenly, hugging Wilbur around the middle, and Wilbur ran his hands through his golden curls.
And soon he was running all around, jumping off of the piles of rubble, (Wilbur winced a little at that) before running back up to Wilbur, little legs pumping.
"Swing me!" He demanded loudly.
Wilbur cocked his head at him, confused, and the boy explained .
"Well, all the other daddy's fix their kids when they're broken, and you did for me, so that means you're my daddy!"
His child said confidently.
"And I want you to swing me!"
His baby held up his arms expectantly. They barely reached Wilbur's shoulders.
He didn't cry from cuteness overload.
Definitely not.
Instead, he picked up his baby and swung him all the way up to the sun, giggles ringing through the air.
Then Wilbur woke up.
*****
Wilbur blinked, blurry.
Where am I?
He looked around. Dark floor, small window, small room, cobwebs... His old cart.
But he felt like something was missing. What was missing?
He shrugged on his coat and walked out the door, feeling oddly empty.
He felt his face, fingers coming away wet, and realized he was crying.
What?
Then he tripped over a pair of crutches, which were held by a little blond child.
His child.
Wilbur bent down, the feeling strangely familiar.
"Hi, who are you? Do you need help? My name is Wilbur."
The boy sniffed, and Wilbur noted he had two casts one on each leg, and an arm covered in bright band-aids.
"My mommy left me last night. I don't think she wants me anymore because I can't walk. She said I cost too much money."
Wilbur's heart clenched, but he smiled.
"Do you want to come with me, baby?"
The boy nodded, holding up his hands and grabbing at him, and Wilbur lifted him into the air, nestling him carefully in his loving arms.
He felt right there.
His baby snuggled further into his chest, and Wilbur could feel a small heart beat.
The boy muttered something, clearly sleepy.
"You know," his beautiful baby yawned,
"I think I dreamed about you last night"