Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode Twenty Six

Greg felt a strange sense of safety in McKenzie’s hand, a warmth that seemed to radiate from her palm, seeping into his cold, shrunken body. He nestled into her grasp, feeling the soft, familiar comfort he hadn’t experienced in days. His heart ached with the memory of what had once been normal—his family, whole and together. But here, in McKenzie’s hand, he could let go, if only for a moment, and take refuge in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

He felt a pang of guilt for leaving Cindy behind, but that guilt was overshadowed by his own need for solace. Being with McKenzie, away from the constant tension and reminders of their new reality—offered him a brief reprieve, a chance to reconnect with his eldest daughter without the weight of Little life pressing down on him.

As they entered her room, Greg marveled at how enormous everything seemed from his new perspective. McKenzie, standing tall and strong, was like a giantess navigating a world that once felt normal to him but now loomed large and unfamiliar. She moved with ease, unaware of the scale that now ruled Greg’s every thought. The room he had helped her decorate, once so familiar, now felt like an alien landscape.

McKenzie gently set Greg down on her bed, the folds of the comforter rising like hills beneath him. The once-soft surface now seemed to stretch into an uneven, vast terrain, each wrinkle in the fabric a ridge or valley in an unfamiliar world. He stumbled slightly as the bed shifted under him, the plush surface unsteady beneath his feet.

Looking up, he saw McKenzie towering above him, her form casting a long shadow over the peaks and valleys of her comforter. She was colossal from his vantage point, her figure framed by the familiar surroundings of her room—the same room he had tucked her into when she was little, the same room where they had talked about school, about life, about her future. Now, she stood impossibly tall, the protector and the caretaker, while he remained small and vulnerable, dependent on her for everything.

The sight filled him with a mixture of pride and sadness. Pride, because McKenzie had grown into a capable, strong young woman—someone he could rely on. Sadness, because that reliance had shifted so completely. He was no longer the one protecting her. She was the one protecting him now.

“You okay, Dad?” McKenzie’s voice was soft, but it rumbled like distant thunder from above, reminding Greg just how small he had become. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her weight making the fabric around him shift, throwing him off balance once again.

Greg nodded, steadying himself on the folds of the comforter. “Yeah, Kenz,” he said, his voice tiny in the vastness of the room, though he knew she could hear him. “I’m okay. It’s… it’s nice to spend time with you. I’ve missed it.”

McKenzie smiled down at him, the warmth in her expression reflecting the care she had always shown him, even when their roles had been different. “I’ve missed it too, Dad.” Her voice was gentle, filled with a kindness that soothed Greg’s raw nerves. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you… for either of you. But I want you to know I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.”

Greg felt a lump form in his throat. The tenderness in McKenzie’s words was both comforting and heart-wrenching. He wanted to tell her that it should have been the other way around—that he should have been the one reassuring her, not the other way around. But those days were over. The weight of that realization settled over him like a heavy blanket, suffocating but inescapable.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself on the folds of her comforter. The uneven terrain beneath him seemed a fitting metaphor for his life now—once familiar and solid, now unpredictable and vast.

McKenzie reached out gently, her hand hovering above him like a protective shield. “If you need anything, just tell me, okay? I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I know how hard this is for you.”

Greg glanced up at her hand, massive and yet so careful, and nodded. “I know, Kenz. I know you’re trying. And I appreciate it more than you know.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the vast expanse of her room surrounding them. The quiet was heavy, but not oppressive. It was the kind of silence Greg had learned to appreciate in these small moments with McKenzie—moments where the noise of the outside world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, trying to navigate this new reality together.

The warmth from McKenzie’s hand still lingered on his skin, a reminder that even in this upside-down world, there were moments of comfort, of connection. He didn’t know what the future held for him or for Cindy, but for now, in the safety of McKenzie’s room, he could breathe a little easier.

“You’ll have to eat this here, and I can’t let you take any with you,” McKenzie said softly, setting down a tiny piece of chicken from her dinner onto the bed in front of Greg. The small morsel was practically nothing to her, an afterthought, but to Greg, it was a feast. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw it. The piece of chicken, though modest by normal standards, was enormous to him now, a luxury compared to the dull pellets he had been surviving on.

Without hesitation, Greg grasped it hungrily, his stomach growling in anticipation. He tore into the meat, his small hands shaking with eagerness as he began devouring it, savoring every bite. The taste was rich, flavorful—so much better than the bland, processed Little food he had been forced to eat for days. It was like rediscovering something he had taken for granted, and he felt a deep gratitude welling up inside him.

“This is so much better than pellets. Thank you, Pumpkin,” Greg managed to say between bites, his voice muffled by the food. He hadn’t realized just how starved he had been for real food until now.

McKenzie smiled down at him, warmth and affection in her eyes. “I know Mads has you two on a pretty strict diet, so this will have to stay between us,” she said quietly, her tone serious but caring. “You can’t say anything, not even to Mom. I can help you out like this from time to time, but you’re going to have to listen to Madison too, okay?”

Greg paused, swallowing the mouthful of chicken, and looked up at her, sensing the weight of her words. McKenzie wasn’t just offering him food—she was offering him trust. There was a sincerity in her voice, a need to maintain the delicate balance between her and her sister. “She’s your guardian too, and I don’t want this to become a me versus her thing,” McKenzie continued. “If it gets out, I’ll have to stop. I don’t want to cause a wedge between Madison and me. She’s my sister, Dad, you know? She’s the last bit of family left I can trust.”

McKenzie’s voice faltered slightly as she finished speaking, realizing the weight of her own words. She bit her lip, as though trying to take them back, instantly aware of how they might have sounded. “I mean—” she started to say, the apology already forming on her lips.

But Greg waved a hand, stopping her before she could continue. “It’s okay, McKenzie. I get it,” he said softly, sitting back against her leg, which stretched out like a vast wall on the bed. He stretched his tired limbs, the softness of the comforter beneath him a welcome relief. “We’re Littles now, and while your mom and I are here for you two, what we can do is… limited.”

Greg’s voice trailed off as he leaned back, his body small and fragile against the vast expanse of the bed. The warmth of McKenzie’s leg radiated up into his back, reminding him of the comfort and safety she provided, even in this strange new world where everything had been turned upside down. He had never imagined a reality where his daughters would be the ones taking care of him, protecting him. But that’s what it had come to—McKenzie and Madison were the ones in control now, and he and Cindy had to rely on them.

He glanced up at McKenzie, her towering form so familiar yet so distant, and felt a pang of guilt. Guilt for needing her like this, for being a burden when he had once been the protector. But at the same time, he felt an immense pride in her. McKenzie had grown into someone strong, someone capable. She wasn’t just his daughter anymore—she was his guardian. And though that truth hurt, it also reassured him. He was safe with her.

McKenzie reached down, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at Greg, concern flickering in her eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like we’re leaving you and Mom behind. I’m just trying to keep things together, you know?”

Greg nodded, resting his head against the soft fabric of the bed. “I know, Kenz. You’re doing great. Better than I could’ve hoped for.” His voice was sincere, and he meant every word. McKenzie and Madison were navigating a reality no one could have prepared them for, and they were doing it with grace—even if the power dynamics had shifted so drastically.

McKenzie’s fingers, large but careful, gently stroked Greg’s back, a gesture of comfort that he appreciated more than words could convey. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m really trying.”

Greg closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of her touch ease the tension in his body. “I know you are,” he said quietly. “And I’m proud of you.”

For a moment, everything was still. The air in McKenzie’s room felt calm, almost peaceful, despite the strange new world they were all adjusting to. Greg knew that things would never be the same, but sitting there on the bed, leaning against his daughter, he found comfort in the fact that they still had each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

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