A/N In honor of our favorite—now space-bound!—doctor, whom I still refuse to call Onomatopoeia. ;) (I mean, it doesn't add up to 60. C'mon, people.)
(Prologue) Ellipsism
"BAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
SILLY! — FUNNY! — HAPPY! — HUMOR! — LAUGHTER! — RIDICULOUS! — DOWNRIGHT KNEE-SLAPPING HILARIOUSNESS!
AND NOTHING CAN EVER GO WRONG BECAUSE ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD! ! !
SILLY! — FUNNY! — HAP-HapPY…? — HAPpy — hUmOR — LauGH…
Strawberry yogurt?
Strawberry nonfat yogurt—and lightning—? and…something hairy…no, powdery—?
…gloop…gloooop…glooooooop…
—aLL iS rIGHT—
…cold…slimy…noises…noises…noises…slimy…cold…noises…
—rIGht—wORLd—wRonG—
—AGeNT OTtO—
Gasp!
Dr. O blinked.
Where…who…what…?
Who…
…am I?
Who am I?
…Opal…?
… … …
Four blurry forms were staring at her with concern. "Well?" one of them whispered. "Did it—did it work?"
My name is…Agent Opal…no…
No.
No it's not.
I'm a doctor, not an agent.
I'm Dr. O.
And I say—
"WHAT'S NEXT?"
Sighs of relief. Dr. O could make more of them out now: two Investigation agents on either side, one Scientist and that Creature Guy in the middle.
But they're not my nurses. Where are my nurses? And where's my office? This doesn't feel like my office. I want my office, and my nurses.
Still in a daze, Dr. O wandered out a nearby door and along the walkway outside. My nurses…my office…I have work…
A smiley, chattery voice pierced her hazy veil of thoughts. "That's probably her way of saying thank you."
Thank…you…?
—SNAP!
… … …
When the darkness cleared, Dr. O was facing them again.
Oh, it's those four agents, they're back. Oh hey, Olympia and Otis, Ocean, and Oona. Of course. Hi guys. Where did you come from?
She looked down. In her hands were two cans of silly string.
Silly string.
Empty.
She looked up. Four faces, shock, confusion, why.
And silly string everywhere.
"No, that's my way of saying thank you."
Her voice…
…Oh.
…Oh.
…OH.
OH NO!
All at once, everything came rushing back. Dr. O felt herself dizzying, staggering, falling falling falling. Yet still she stood in front of them. Physically, at least. Her mind was another story.
"Also, uh, thank you," she heard a distant echo of herself say. "That's also my way of saying thank you."
Idiot, look what you've done while you were out! Tell them you're sorry!
Wrestling a little consciousness back into her hands, she managed to get out an apology. Of sorts. "I'll lead with that next time." More like a promise, anyway.
Their faces showed some acknowledgement.
Come on, Doctor, what's next?
Work. That's what's next. Work. I have so much work to do. Somuchwork…always… work…. I'm a…I'm a doctor…not…a…
Dr. O didn't remember how she got there. But when next she became aware, she found herself sitting on the Medical Bay bed. I've never sat on my own bed before. A stormy hairy powdery strawberry mess was her everywhere. It covered her face, ran through her hair and down her neck, dripped onto her clean lab coat, got in her nose and ears and mouth, and her eyes—
—and there was something else, too.
Something wet, something salty, something…sad.
With a little hup she was on her feet again. Facing a mirror. (There was a mirror here, she thought in parentheses.) Gazing at the sorrowed clown makeup as if it were not her own. Watching the little rivulets stream, melting through the facepaint and antidote as they traveled, all stemming from the four corners of her muddy eyes.
And then, she was looking at Otto.
Dr. O drew in a sharp breath and blinked. Otto was gone.
But those were tears in the rivulets.
No. The tears were the cause of the rivulets.
I'm…crying?
And then, you remembered.
-CLICK-
… … …
My name is Dr. O.
But before all that, I am an agent. Agent Opal.
…Opal…escent…
An ephemeral memory flits by. There are snowflakes. Two smiles. A warm hand caressing her face. A voice that wraps her in a cocoon of its light, and whispers, "You're always opalescent to me. My Opal." One little brush over her lips.
Gone.
-CLICK-
… … …
My name is Agent Opal.
I am the Opalescent.
And this is my story.
"Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down today.
Nothing gold can stay."
—Robert Frost