It was awkward being back in her normal life after being gone for so long. Tinkerelias tried his best to help Tinkerbell reacclimatize, but it was difficult. At home she was fine. She and Tinkerelias got back to their normal routine fairly quickly. Before Tinkerbell knew it, she was back to cozy breakfasts and intimate conversations. Work was the problem. On her first day back, she could feel the stares of the other tinkers. The memory of finding out about her lack of tinker talent still hung over her workstation like a toxic cloud. She wasn't qualified to do most of the tasks required of a tinker, and she knew it. For the first couple of days, she just sat at her work table and watched the other tinkers do their jobs.

"Can you help me out?" Said Tinkerjoy to Tinkerbell as she held up some tattered brown garments. Tinkerjoy was the perfect example of the female home tinker. She was strong, inside and out. Her muscles bulged and so did her femininity. She could out-build anyone, but only did so when she felt it necessary. Usually, Tinkerjoy spent her mornings tinkering in the warehouse and her afternoons sewing and cooking. Tinkerslay and Tinkerjoy were like parents to the younger tinkers, and Tinkerjoy was one mama you didn't want to cross. Not only was Tinkerbell envious of Tinkerjoy's prowess in the warehouse, but she also felt jealous of Tinkerjoy and Tinkerslay's relationship. The two fit together like puzzle pieces and everyone could see it. Just to be around them was to know that true love existed and Tinkerbell wanted to find true love as well.

"Help?" Asked Tinkerbell as Tinkerjoy heaped piles of brown fabric onto Tinkerbell's empty workbench.

"These tinker boys go through clothing like it is disposable. I need help patching up the holes in these uniforms so the boys will have backups for later." The strong woman wasn't as much asking for help as she was demanding it. It is the job of home tinkers to construct and repair all fairy garments. The bland brown clothing is mass produced once a year and shipped out to the fairy villages. All modifications; such as dying the cloth fantastical colors or adding accents to mimic humans and animals; are done by specific fairies once they receive their clothing shipments.

"Of course I can help. I'm confident in my sewing." Answered Tinkerbell with renewed vigor. Perhaps she wasn't the most useless tinker in existence. For a fairy, work is life. Job titles aren't put at the front of names just for kicks. Fairies who can't work, die or at least they feel like they're dying. Tinkerbell, before being given this new task, had started to take on a zombie-like appearance. Now, however, her new assignment had brought the color back into her cheeks.

The day flew by as Tinkerbell got into a rhythm with her sewing. She conquered each ripped tunic with gusto. A few garments were unsalvageable, but Tnkerbell wasn't discouraged. She was able to rig the scraps of cloth into beautiful new garments. As lunchtime rolled around, Tinkerbell finished the last of the torn outfits and joined her friends in the eating area.

Lunch was still awkward. More awkward than work could ever be. Although Tinkerbell had been back for a week, she had still not told anyone where she had gone or what she had been doing. She kept them in the dark for their own good, of course. The solvers moved swiftly with their distribution of justice and Tinkerbell wanted to keep them safely ignorant. Her friends, however, would not let the subject drop. Every day at the lunch table her friends would ask a barrage of questions about her journey. All of her friends were curious, except for Watcherlyn.

"You can't keep it a secret forever." Said Growerkel before Tinkerbell could take her first bite of food.

"It must be a good secret for you to want to keep it to yourself so badly." Added Changerpenny.

"Just leave it alone." Said Watcherlyn in a solemn tone as she stared at the soup that she wasn't eating. Growerkel and Changerpenny quieted down. Although Changerpenny was older than Watcherlyn, she didn't argue. Watchers are known for being wiser than other fairies. Because they are in the business of watching others, they are revered even at young ages for being knowledgeable. For this reason, when Watcherlyn spoke the entire table listened.

Tinkerbell reached her hand into her pocket and grabbed the wooden rabbit as she had become accustomed to doing in times of stress. She looked over to Tinkerelias who was quietly shoveling soup into his mouth. Since Tinkerbell's return, Tinkerelias had become increasingly introverted in public. He was the same old Tinkerelias in private, however. At home he was loud and talkative; but in group settings, like this current lunch break, he would fade into the background. Tinkerbell was starting to worry about him. She decided to wait until they were alone to ask him about it.

Tinkerbell felt a tug at her soup bowl that pulled her away from her inner thoughts. It was Tinkerelias. Tinkerbell didn't understand why Tinkerelias was trying to take her soup but as she looked down, she realized her bowl was empty. She must have been subconsciously eating the soup while deep in thought. This had become her life. She would go through her day listlessly performing tasks. Food tasted bland and sleep was restless. To make things worse, Tinkerelias's behavior at work and other public settings was unsettling.

The only thing that brought Tinkerbell joy these days was her sewing. Her new uniform repair project was a bright light in her otherwise dim world. Even at home, when Tinkerelias became himself again, Tinkerbell was still unhappy. She tried to keep up the façade of happiness at home but it was becoming difficult. Tinkerbell was starting to think that Tinkerelias's change in personality was in response to her own recent change.

Tinkerbell absentmindedly rose from the lunch table and flew back to the warehouse assuming Tinkerelias was following. When she arrived at the warehouse, however, he was nowhere to be found. The warehouse was empty as Tinkerbell entered. She looked out of a window and saw that the sun was still high in the sky. Lunch wasn't even close to being over. It wasn't time to resume work yet. Even if it had been time, Tinkerbell had finished fixing all of the uniforms before lunch. There was no more work for her to do. She looked around the quiet building and felt nothing. This place used to fill her heart and head with happiness every time she arrived, but not anymore.

The once welcoming workspace now felt cold and distant. She walked over to her workbench and ran her hand over the smooth surface. Tinkerbell's worst memories were imbued in this table. The first time she was undermined by Tinkerelias was when he rebuilt this table for her. The table also reminded her of her horrible first day of work and how naïve she had been in the beginning.

Although this table held such bad memories for Tinkerbell, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. Not only did she not want to build a new table, but she liked that it was Tinkerelias's handiwork. Much like the rabbit she kept in her pocket, she loved her work table. For some reason, things that Tinkerelias created seemed to have a life of their own. They exuded an aura of care and love that was a direct result of the effort Tinkerelias put into making them. Tinkerbell climbed on the table and lay on her back. She just stared at the ceiling waiting for the rest of the tinkers to return from lunch.