Disclaimer: I don't own Futurama. Nobody owns Dracula.

"Can I take the blindfold off? My eye is starting to itch."

"Just a second," said Fry, pulling down one of the three levers on the wall before him.

"Ow!"

"What?"

"You elbowed me," said Leela. "At least I hope that was your elbow."

"Sorry. There isn't a lot of room in this thing."

Leela inched a little closer to the wall. "I noticed."

"Don't worry," Fry said, yanking down another lever. "It'll all be over in a second."

"Why am I not relieved?"

"'Cause you love being close to me?" Fry pulled down the third lever, and Leela's next words were lost in the discordant groaning of the machine.

Before squeezing out of the machine, Leela slipped the blindfold up and glanced over Fry's shoulder at the control panel. The only intelligible display — a small one, at that — read: "London, 1890."

She emerged into watery sunlight. "Sorry about the tight fit," said Fry from behind her. "It's smaller on the inside."

"You do know, don't you, that the outside resembles a mausoleum?"

"It's got a — a gecko circuit, I think it's called. Makes it blend in with its surroundings."

"Well, this place is a graveyard."

"Don't worry," said Fry. "Things'll liven up now that I'm around."

"No, look around. We're in a graveyard. Why did you bring us here?"

"We're in old New York. Well, a parallel version of it. This thing's a dimension-hopper. It —

"Shh!"

"I thought you liked that technical stuff."

"There are people." Leela pointed to a party of four men, in sombre black, approaching from the other end of the graveyard. "Quick! Get back inside."

"But if we do that it'll take us right back home. I want to show you the sights first."

Leela sighed. "Fine. Go behind it, then."

She led by example.

"Why do we have to hide?" asked Fry, once they were seated on the damp ground behind the dimension-hopper. "I mean, sure, New York's full of crazies, but —"

"Fry, I don't think we're in New York."

"Why not?"

"Call it woman's intuition. Anyway, you were telling me about this thing?"

"It's a dimension-hopper. I found it in the Professor's closet."

"What were you doing in there?"

"Playing a game with Amy."

"What, like hide-and-seek?"

Fry grinned. "More like hide and —"

"Never mind. So, how did you figure out how to work this . . . dimension-hopper?"

"I read the manual. I mean, isn't that what you're always telling me? 'Read the fu—'"

"I know what I told you. Look, I think you might have made a mistake. The display says we're in London."

"Well, I bet there's still lots of fun stuff to see."

If Fry was inclined to elaborate on this statement, that inclination was swiftly checked by a bloodcurdling scream from a neighboring tomb, followed by a rhythmic wet thudding.

Leela listened for a few moments. "You know," she said, "I think something's rotten in the state of Denmark."

"But I thought we were in England?"

"I'm going to go take a look. You stay here."

The thudding had stopped, and Leela heard a door opening. She edged out from behind the dimension-hopper in time to see two men emerge from a tomb. One seemed to catch sight of her. "Excuse me, Quincey," he said hastily. "I'd like a moment alone."

Quincey nodded and looked away; the other immediately ran to Leela and knelt before her, tears welling in his eyes.

"Is it you, Lucy? Are you an angel after all? Oh, but it is you! Every feature smells of heaven."

"That's probably just my anti-perspirant," she cracked, but he seemed not to hear.

"Hair of purple, for you are a queen in the heavenly court. A single eye for the single-minded contemplation of God. Boots, because . . . you are shod with the gospel of peace. Yes, that must be it."

The man lunged for Leela's waist; she stepped back, sending him sprawling to the ground. Her eye narrowed. "Don't you touch me."

"Of course. Noli me tangere. But tell me — do you see heaven?" He clambered to his feet and came toward her again.

Leela didn't see heaven, but she did give the man a chance to see some stars.

After the mechanical groaning stopped, Fry and Leela emerged into the Professor's disused walk-in closet. The dimension-hopper had resumed its natural form: a bland grey booth.

"In the future," said Leela, "you might want to be a little more careful with that thing."

"Yeah," said Fry, "but it sure is something, isn't it?" He paused. "I don't like the name dimension-hopper, though. It needs something snappier."

"How about the Retardis?"

"Ooh! I like that," said Fry.

A/N: This story was inspired by a random pairing from "What's Your Ultimate Fandom OTP?": Leela EXITS pursued by Arthur Holmwood.