Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show

A/N: Another story begun. Oh dear.

At least it's somewhat unique. I'm pretty sure nobody's written a story about Brad & Janet that's sort of a commentary on gender roles in modern society. Okay... somebody probably has. Though I haven't, so it's new for me!

A young man awoke upon an uncomfortable bed in a room that smelled of various chemicals, including bleach. There was an IV carefully attached to his wrist with that nasty white tape. It itched.

If you read the bracelet on his other wrist you'd find that the man was Brad Majors, born 5/9/1948, weight 170lb, height 6'4", admitted 7:15 AM on 11/24/1974.

Soon enough a nurse appeared in the room. She was the age of Brad's mother and smiled kindly when she realized he was no longer sleep.

"The Doctor will be pleased that you're awake. So will the police, though we aren't allowed to let them question you until the doctors say so," the nurse explained. "For now, I'm to get you anything you need."

There wasn't much that, except perhaps a glass of water. Though that could wait. At that point there was something more important on his mind.

"Where's Janet?" he asked.

Embarrassingly, his words were more of a pathetic whisper than the commanding statement he'd expected them to be. This was due to the parched state his throat was in. He really did need a glass of water.

At least the nurse heard him. "Do you mean Janet Weiss, the young woman who was brought here with you early this morning?"

Brad nodded. Then, the nurse handed him a glass of water. Though the Styrofoam cup tasted unpleasant the cool water made his mouth far less dry.

Soon enough, the nurse continued to speak. "Well, I know she is still in the hospital here. I'm not allowed to say much else yet. What relation are you to her, by the way? She won't tell us."

"She's my fiancée," Brad explained, his voice now (thankfully) stronger. "Why, we were going to announce it in the local paper today. As you know things didn't go according to plan…"

The nurse laughed. "Yes. Though you seem to be healthy enough that you'll be let

"Did she mention me at all?" Brad asked.

An expression of worry appeared on the nurse's face. "No. It's a bit odd, since you're her fiancé, but she kept going on about somebody called Frank and never even mentioned you. But don't worry. She's clearly not well – not right in the head. Last time I checked they were checking her for signs of any drug abuse."

"Drug abuse? What do you mean? Why, I would never let her take anything!" Brad exclaimed.

"It's not a question of that, dear. We have to do certain tests when we see certain symptoms. Miss Weiss might be perfectly sober for all we know. Anyway, since you aren't yet married, it won't reflect on you in any way."

Brad knew that this was true. But he's always felt – from the evening he'd met her parents – that she was his to look after. If she had taken some sort of drug during that dream of a night it was his fault. He clearly hadn't kept a good eye on her, that was the trouble!

With a motherly expression of pity on her kind face, the nurse patted Brad on the shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Miss Weiss is probably just is shock from whatever happened. Now, there isn't more I can tell you about test results just yet. Since you aren't a blood relative or a spouse I legally can't say much."

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then, a doctor entered the room. It was a very serious looking man who looked a decade or so older than the nurse. He wore glasses and a serious expression upon his lined face. Very different from the last so-called 'doctor' Brad had met. This was a good thing.

"Hello. I'm Dr. William Hartnell."

"My name is Brad Majors," Brad replied, holding out his hand.

Dr. Hartnell shook it – firmly – and then set his clipboard on the table next to Brad's cup of water.

"I've just got to make sure that everything is alright. Last night was most extraordinary, if the condition you and Miss Weiss were found in is anything to judge by. So I need to know of any symptom, any issue. You can tell me anything and I won't be able to say a word to anyone. There are quite a few laws about it."

This made Brad nervous, though he didn't show it. Some things that had happened the previous evening he would ever speak of even if his life depended on it. So he kept his manner as calm as possible, and told Dr. Hartnell of the different burns and scrapes he's suffered when the castle disappeared. Though, to avoid being committed to a madhouse, he neglected to mention the castle being a spaceship. He just said it blew up. That made more sense and was lent credibility by the ashes still on Brad's face.

The nurse then tended to the various petty injuries. Before, the only thing the doctor's had done was put the IV in Brad's arm. It was as the nurse cleaned and bandaged that Brad realized what he still wore what he'd worn earlier. Though there was a hospital gown over it now. And, horribly enough, his glasses were missing.

Nobody spoke for a while.

Then, Dr. Hartnell seemed to remember something.

"The police will be questioning you. I've got to deem you of sound mind before they do, however. Your manner – though not your clothing – gives me the impression that you are indeed sane. Since you haven't displayed any signs of instability I won't subject you to any unnecessary testing," he said, smiling slightly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Brad said.

Then, Dr. Hartnell – and his clipboard – left.

The nurse was soon finished with Brad's injuries. Though she stayed in the small room with him. Neither spoke for quite a while. Brad drank a bit more of the water, though.

Soon enough there was a knock at the door. A thin, sharp-eyed policeman entered carrying some papers and a pen. Another policeman – stockier and duller in expression – soon followed.

"My name is Samuel Vimes. This is my colleague, Constable Feldspar," said the thin one. "You're Mr. Brad Majors?"

Brad nodded.

Vimes laughed mirthlessly. "Well then. I've heard many things as chief of police here in Denton, but I've never heard about a castle and a bunch of people dressed like a damn'd burlesque show. Why don't you start from the top, Mr. Majors? How did it start?"

The policeman clearly wasn't in a good mood. Nor was he ready to believe what Brad was about to say! But Brad tried to ignore this. He told the story as seriously as he could… and left out a few key details.

"Well, my girlfriend Janet Weiss and I were at the wedding of my friend Ralph Hapschatt and his girl Betty Munroe. I'd been planning to propose to Janet anyway when she caught the bride's bouquet after the ceremony. So, once all the other people had left the church, I proposed and she eagerly accepted. Then we went to the reception and to dinner with the other guests. That all went pretty well, I'd say, especially since we didn't mention the engagement to avoid drawing attention away from the newlyweds. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"When we left the dinner we didn't go home. Instead we drove to the house Dr. Scott, who teaches at Denton High School. We wanted to announce our engagement to him first, since he's the old friend helped set us up years ago. Of course, it was storming last night – surely you remember that – and we got lost. It seems we were really unlucky, because our car's tire went flat. In the hope of finding a phone to call we walked a mile or so in the rain to a house we'd driven by earlier. That's where the trouble began."

"'The trouble', eh?" Vimes asked, lighting a cigarette.

Brad laughed nervously. "That's when we met some very strange people. First we met the butler. I him asked for a phone. Without properly answering he showed me inside. Soon enough he told Janet and I that there was a party going on. Then, for some reason, they showed us-"

Raising an eyebrow, Vimes interrupted. "'They'? Who do you mean?"

"The butler and a maid. Anyway, they showed us into a room full of oddly dressed people dancing. It all seemed unhealthy, as Janet pointed out, but I still hadn't found a phone. So we waited for a while. Soon, the host of the party showed up. He was a deviant of some kind. That is, he wore woman's underclothes – without anything over them – and makeup. Poor Janet was so frightened she fainted."

Judging by the expression on his face, Vimes didn't approve of this any more than Janet had.

"He then trapped us and kept us prisoner there for hours. Many things happened to us, things you'd expect to only see in a cheap exploitation b-picture. We only managed to escape when his insane servants blew up the house."

For a moment Vimes intently stared at Brad, as if trying to see if he were lying about it all. Even to Brad it sounded like a story read in an issue of Fantastic Science. And Brad had even sifted all the strangest things out of the tale!

"Did you write all of it down, Feldspar?" Vimes asked, still staring at Brad.

The constable nodded. "Yessir."

Then, Vimes finally looked away. Without another word he stood up and stalked out of the room. Brad was rather worried and, apparently, it showed.

"Sam means no harm. He's grumpy all th' time," Feldspar explained nervously. "And I believes your story, even if he don't."

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then Feldspar left. Now Brad was alone with the nurse again. He'd almost forgotten about her.

"That sounds like a very interesting… adventure, dear. No wonder poor Miss Weiss is so shaken up by it all," the nurse said, shaking her head.

After that Brad was left to rest for a while. This meant he was to sleep while a nurse – there were a few, actually – occasionally checked up on him. Nothing even mildly interesting happened for far too long.

By dinner time that day something finally happened. A doctor who Brad hadn't yet met appeared at the door. This doctor had a hairstyle that reminded Brad of The Beatles and a very serious expression on his dogish face. Brad later learned that that very serious expression was the only expression ever to be found upon the face of that doctor.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Troughton. I've been the one checking up on Miss Weiss. Now, she has finally been deemed mentally stable enough you name you as the significant other on file. That means we are free to share otherwise confidential information with you. Her family is waiting nearby. Dr. Hartnell said that you're to be discharged as soon as you fill out a bit of paperwork since your injuries were minor at worst."

"How is Janet? You said she's stable, what does that even mean?" Brad asked.

Dr. Troughton sighed a weary sigh. "She's doing well enough considering. Like you she has some smaller scratches. We thought she'd been drugged somehow due to her overly giddy behavior but after all those tests came back negative. I think it was just the shock…"

It was clear the doctor wasn't saying something. Brad didn't like the fact that somebody wasn't telling him presumably important medical information about fiancé Janet Weiss. Since her parents weren't nearby it was his job to look after her he'd filled that role lately.

"You aren't telling me something," Brad said, his tone stern.

"Well, she's still been behaving strangely. Even after the giddiness faded. She's become increasingly agitated as the day progressed. We're hoping somebody from the psych ward will be able to figure it out," Dr. Troughton explained solemnly.

"What do you mean by 'agitated'?"

"Well, she keeps having these little 'spells' in which she seems to fall into a light sleep. After a moment of looking very peaceful she'll cry out a variant the phrase 'Frank, my darling'. Then she breathes heavily or shrieks in what might be pain. These have increased in intensity and frequency as time goes on. We got her to sign the papers allowing us to share her information with you whilst she was calm, near lunchtime."

At the mention of Frank, Brad became somewhat angry. Though he was careful to hide this fact. Thinking of a question to ask – which he did – distracted him.

"Are there any physical symptoms? Anything you've neglected to mention?"

Now Dr. Troughton blushed. "Just, er, a bit of an 'injury' between the poor girl's legs. I don't know if you realized… but the deviant at this castle you've told us of apparently had sexual intercourse with her. Very roughly. Well, at least rough enough to cause a bit more damage than we're used to seeing. When some of the female nurses were helping her change into better clothes they cleaned her up, at least. She was quite a mess from all that'd happened."

After that shocking speech the doctor left. As did the only nurse in the little room. Brad was left alone. He began to think about everything.

For a moment Brad wondered why nobody had helped him change out of his deranged burlesque costume. Then he realized that, as a guy, he didn't need help with such things. And having a male nurse help him dress would look like homosexuals, while a female nurse would probably fear injuries like Janet's. It was fun how society gave quite distinct and very different identities to men and woman.

Brad was the protector of Janet, earner of money, and defender of his own honor. As a man he needed to be brave. He needed to wear trousers (unlike Frank) and make crude remarks at sluttishly dressed young woman (as Frank did) when he was with his male friends. Those were unspoken rules.

Janet, on the other hand, should behave in a sort of quiet way. One of her most important jobs was her ability to look both modest and stylish. Cooking delightful dinners and giggling with her friends were also required behaviors. She shouldn't cry out the name of a man she'd hardly known while breathing heavily. It wasn't right… or so thought her fiancé Brad Majors.

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