Archive of Our Own ^beta

A year after Pinocchio became a real boy he started to have nightmares. Cruel nightmares of being kidnapped and forced to be a puppet again. He would be pushed onto stage and made to dance and sing for a crowd of everyone who tricked him.

There on stage he would watch helplessly as his hands transformed back into those familiar wooden slates. His legs would give out and strings would be attached to him. No matter how much he tried to regain control of his body he wouldn’t be able to move on his own.

At the end of the dream he was always thrown into the mouth of Monstro, completely helpless.

But that wasn’t what made him upset. It was the fact that his father would be alone without him. Figaro and Cleo could only be so much company to an old man. Father needed another person to be able to talk to. Lest he become as lonely as he was before he wished upon the Blue Fairy’s star.

“My boy, are you alright?” Father looked at him worriedly and Pinocchio realized he'd barely touched his food. Something that was very unlike him. “Do you not like your breakfast?”

Pinocchio shook his head, not wanting to make him sad. Though Geppetto would never get upset with him. Not unless he did something really bad. “I like it! I’m just not very hungry…”

Geppetto chuckled, seemingly buying his story. “Eat a little bit more and then we can give the rest to Figaro. Little thing had been spying on it wanting a bite.”

He giggled at Figaro who stared at his food with drool dripping down from his chin. Stuffing a few more pieces in his mouth, he slid his plate over to the cat who gladly chomped down.

Placed on the table in front of him were his school books. His father had started to gather their coats and shoes for his trip to school. After everything that had happened, Pinocchio hadn’t walked to many places alone in fear someone would try to take him away again. It didn’t really matter that he was no longer a puppet as he worried that villains – such as Honest John and Gideon – would try their hand at revenge.

Geppetto helped him put on his shoes and coat before opening the door for him. “I’ll be back soon, Figaro, Cleo.”

The walk to school wasn’t long, but it would have been shorter if Pinocchio had a better attention span.

“What’s that?” Pinocchio pointed at random objects while they walked.

“A drum. You play music by hitting it.”

He was a very curious boy. After all, he was new to the world. If no one was there to answer his questions then he would just go and find out for himself. His father understood that and didn’t seem to mind answering him.

“And that? What is it?”

“A horse, for riding.”

“What are those?”

“A tulip they’re–”

“ – Hello, Mr Geppetto! And Pinocchio!” A young man, the school's teacher, greeted them with a bright smile on his face. Pinocchio liked his teacher, he was very nice to you if you did well in school.

There were moments though where the teacher wasn’t so kind. Mostly towards the misbehaving boys and girls. If Lampwick still went to school he’d definitely be scolded a lot.

“Goodbye, father.” He hugged him, not really wanting to go to school today. Who would be keeping his father company if he was at school all day? Despite not wanting to leave him, Pinocchio entered the school buildings waving goodbye and prayed school would end soon.

—

“Hey, Pinocchio!” Running towards him were three other kids. “Waiting for your father?” They looked at him with a nasty look on their face and it was obvious they were up to no good. He knew the three well, they were notorious for bullying.

Jiminy jumped up to ear level, hiding himself from the view of others. “Ignore them, Pinoke. They’re bad eggs.”

He nodded in agreement, remembering the advice from both Jiminy and his father. It wasn’t the first time he’d been picked on. Many of the other kids around here could tell he was different, it didn't matter to them that he wasn’t a puppet anymore.

They didn’t let up though, surrounding him as he sat on the school's steps. “What? Did the Red Fairy curse you or something? Will your nose grow if you answer us?”

“Blue fairy…” He muttered. The bullies laughed, mocking him.

“Oh, so sorry! Did we offend you, puppet?”

Pinocchio bit his tongue, stopping himself from shouting anything he’d regret.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” Jiminy once told him. And so far listening to Jiminy had only done him good. So, as long as they’re around, Pinocchio will –for the most part– continue to listen to his advice.

The kids didn’t seem to like his silence though as they just continued to pick on him. They pushed and pulled at him, shouting insults as they did so. Pinocchio tried to move, but whenever he got up they’d push him back down.

“How ‘bout you go back to being just a doll. Go back to not being real!”

He tried to ignore them, he really did! But even someone as even tempered as him had their limits. “Stop!”

Pinocchio pushed the leader of the group back, shocking both himself and Jiminy.

“Pinoke!” The cricket shouted trying to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen.

There was another shove, this time from the bully, to which Pinocchio responded by doing it once more. The kid shoved him again, and what ensued was a push fight. Each push was harder than the other, inciting the other to use more force with each new shove.

Kids around them cheered as they fought and Pinocchio couldn’t help but feel excited. Their claps and cheers reminded him of what it felt to be on stage performing. He could almost imagine the crowd of onlookers shouting praises for him.

But as he imagined a life of fame, the other kid got the upper hand on him and he fell flat on his butt. Embarrassment immediately made itself clear on his face as they all laughed at him.

“Alright, kiddo, now let’s go home before this escalates even more! We’ll meet your father halfway instead.” Jiminy told him, but Pinocchio once again ignored him.

These bullies had done enough and he wasn’t going to let them walk all over him. If he went home a loser he’ll never live it down! So, against his better judgment, he let his anger get the best of him and pounced!

“Hey!” Pinocchio pushed the other kid flat on their back, the bully’s head smacked the ground beneath them. They cried, but he didn't care. They tried to make him cry and they didn’t stop when asked! So why should he?

There was shouting for him to stop from the bullies and especially Jiminy, but he refused to. He hit them over and over again, letting out his rage about them constantly making fun of him.

“The Blue Fairy is real!” He shouted.

“My nose doesn’t grow anymore!”

“I’m not cursed!”

And, “I am a real boy!”

At that he stopped and then stared down at the crying and bloody boy. Feelings of regret bubbled up rather quickly as he saw the damage he had done. He choked down his tears, not wanting anyone to see him cry and slowly got off of him.

Before he could apologize, he was pulled back by the arm and turned to see his shocked father. “What did you do?” Pinocchio bit his lip, feeling ashamed of himself.

He couldn’t even defend himself as he was told to sit on the school's stairs again and wait as Geppetto helped the other boy. Geppetto took out a handkerchief, telling the kid to hold it to their nose and to wait for his parents.

Every second and minute that passed makes Pinocchio feel even more ill. His fists ached and all he wanted to do was run home and cry. He was going to get in trouble and he wasn’t even at fault! If they left him alone then this wouldn’t have happened.

The walk home was silent. Jiminy tried to lighten the mood, but none of his jokes helped. Even when Geppetto held out his hand, Pinocchio refused to take it. As they entered their house, Pinocchio immediately started shouting excuses.

“They started it!”

“It doesn’t matter who started what.” Geppetto calmly said, taking off his coat and shoes.

“Well, I wouldn’t have done it if they were nice!”

Geppetto motioned for him to sit down as he helped Pinocchio take off his shoes. “You still shouldn’t have hit him, it’s not right.”

“I don’t care if it’s not right!” He cried. “He deserved it!”

“Pinocchio,” His fathers voice was stern, but not angry. “No one deserves to be beaten up, even if they are mean.” Pinocchio looked at his father, upset that he didn’t take his side. “Now, show me your knuckles.”

He held out his hands, palms face down. They were cracked and bloody and Geppetto shook his head at the sight of them.

“They called me a puppet…” Pinocchio cried as his father dabbed at the cuts with a wet rag. “They said I wasn’t a real boy!”

At that, Geppetto’s stern look relaxed. “Oh, my dear boy, you’re as real as any other.”

Despite his fathers words, Pinocchio still continued to cry. “But the Blue Fairy told me that if I’m not good I might as well be made of wood! And I was bad! I don’t want to be turned back into a puppet!” And then he ran away from his father and flung himself under his beds covers.

He sobbed, his fears finally making themselves known to his father. Pinocchio didn’t want to become a puppet again. His father’s wish wouldn’t be granted then and he’d have let him down.

His mattress sank under his fathers weight. The blanket covering him was gently pulled back and Pinocchio forced himself to turn away from his fathers gaze. A hand was gently placed on his back and his father murmured comforting words.

“Even as a puppet I’ll still love you.”

“No you won’t…”

“I did when you first came to life, and I love you now.”

“... But I did something bad.” How could a father love a bad child? Geppetto deserved a child who didn’t pick fights and was good. With the way Pinocchio acted he might as well have turned into a jackass with all the other boys.

His father pulled him into his lap, giving him a loving hug. “All children have times where their temper gets the best of them. It’s only a problem when they don’t think they’ve done anything wrong.”

He stayed silent, only his hiccups making a noise. There was nothing for him to say. His father didn’t seem to be angry at him, even after he beat the snot out of the other kid.

Geppetto hugged him once more, “It’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“How do you know?”

“Because fathers know these things.” He chuckled.

Pinocchio smiled, hugging his father back. “Really?”

“Really.”