Chapter 20:
Leela's Eureka Moment

Struggle, shame, sadness, suffering, and vicious swings in sanity.

To any friend who knew her, any enemy who feared her, and perhaps any stranger who stumbled upon her, it should've been clear that Leela had been handed quite the shitty & traumatic shoe of cards from the casino of life. To have such heavy hands, it was enough to send your heart out, in only empathetic silence.

For what she became since then, you'd have to give a salute out of straight respect. From a once-forsaken orphan, she was now the longest-serving, and likely youngest, Captain & Head Pilot since Planet Express opened its doors over 40 years ago. Who even against the great many hurts & heartaches suffered from day one, had morphed into a hard-working, high-achieving, well-travelled and accomplished woman all before the age of thirty.

But exclusive interview in waiting or not, she had pushed past her limits so often, in forgoing happiness for obsession, that she had suffered severely for it. Present problems of lost friends and split crews aside, she could hardly feel gratified for the constant nightmares of her past, preying & feasting upon her fears of loneliness, loss and lack of love. Nor for the horrid failures to sleep, and the copious coffees that came after.

What a difference, then, that reassurances from the deep could provide; very little tossing and turning, none too vivid nightmares, nor any noticeable flailing or murmuring discomfort. By her standards, no better night's sleep she could recall any time soon.

As she sat up and rubbed her eye, stirring herself awake, she immediately felt that everything, perhaps just this once, was going to be fine. Her mind felt cleared over chaotic, her heart beared helium over osmium, and her body sparked alive, raring to tackle anything.

Her dazzling smile blinding her awake, her eye fixed in a determined glare, she cradled her fists, bounded out of bed, and took off for the kitchen. No step more eager and energetic than now, she paced purposefully to her duplicator, strode in assurance to the shower, then dashed out the door, dressed & driven to do well.

Although her legitimately cheerful "Good morning!" didn't defuse the tension between crew & colleague entirely, it had changed the mood considerably. Instead of holding grudges or gritting their teeth, they gladly returned her greeting and got to business.

And to think she was planning on taking much more leave than this…

Sure the deliveries were somewhat slower, and sure Amy still felt wary & fit to protest about pairing up, but nonetheless they stuck together, stayed professional, and worked well enough for no-one to suspect any strains or stress between them.

Matter of fact, they had laughed and hugged together upon a blessed run of good luck, which included their concerning delivery to Angra-7. Far from dreading the worst, they faced no problems whatsoever from the two towering, mohawked guards that stood side-by-side, together lustily inspecting the ladies over, while not giving half a rat's ass of actually doing anything.

This had allowed them to sneak in two entire crates, packed to stuffing with delicious, healthy fruits in one, and bottles of a puppy-branded bottle of medicine in the other. For the human freedom fighters, valuable commodities of survival against those confirmed oppressors.

The ladies had gave an affectionate "Awww!" to such medicines, which, for the bandanna-wearing, blue-vested leader, had made him muster up a massive stink-eye. "If only they knew what those vicious rats could do," he had sighed before he signed off.

"Burn on those old crews!" Leela gloated after she left. "Only things they did better were soil their pants & run away!"

Course, she did flinch right after, remembering exactly how a former crewmember did the same and left her alone like this.

While work had proven wasteful in some days and woeful in others—customer complaints were the worst!—Leela's improving sleep, lighter moods, and better relationships were paramount in keeping Planet Express on top of things. Not to mention that, bad days or no, all Leela had to do lately was knock on her heating grate. Within minutes, her deep-dwelling friends would rush over, routines be damned, eager to chat for hours.

Life in the big city, survival in the sewers, what work had been like, ways to spend any downtime… Anything on their mind, and almost nothing sacred.

For all Leela knew and taught about growing up above ground, they taught her all they knew about growing up, period. Had to make her wonder; for such grotesque, subhuman dregs of society, that she'd always been led to believe, she had their qualities of kindness, wisdom, love & honesty in spades.

If only she could've been adopted by people like these…

Soon it was Saturday weekend, and far from worrying about getting her deadline extended or anything, she had been thoroughly enjoying a fantastic night out among most of her colleagues. Drinks, dances, dirty jokes & delight for all at Studio 122133 (powered right, a symbol of the old city), before her wrist device beeped for 10 o'clock in the evening.

In her zestful step after kissing everyone goodnight, except for Zoidberg, she felt like a changed Captain, dare she say it, a changed woman. One who had finally embraced drinking from the sweet cup of life, savouring every last drop after such a long, deathly stasis of sorts.

But as she jive-stepped through her front door, still singing to herself, she couldn't have been aware of the growing whispers & murmurs between her friends in the deep…

"How can you be so sure? No New New Yorker would dare go there, let alone voluntarily LIVE there!"

"Listen, I didn't believe it worth a damn either… Yet the evidence could only point to him."

Leela began doing the cha-cha up those stairs, as the murmurs grew more uncertain.

"You really think she'll believe us?"

"What else do we have? To think I might disappoint her, after all this time…"

Leela turned the key to her apartment, humming a song or two, and started to enter.

"What do we tell her, Morris? That your friends might've found someone, yet there's a near-zero chance of a match?"

"You're the brains of us two, Munda, so think of something! I can only go off their word, and they've never let me down before."

As Leela sat down on her bed; her hair down, her face sweaty, and her feet tender & smelly, she had felt a very satisfying squirm soon wriggle inside her guts. A snigger, a chuckle, and then, a backwards fall into full-blown stitches, several orders lighter than she had been in months.

Of course, once she heard the knocks, she sprang to attention and gave her hellos down the grate:

"Hey guys, so how did that search of yours go? Got any leads for me?"

The female voice hummed a little, before she began: "Listen dear, we did say to give us a week at most, but to shoot straight for a second, we don't know how good these leads will be. I mean, we have our data, our opinions and whatever else, but we still can't confirm 100% that he's the one you're after."

"Unable to believe how, exactly?" Leela questioned, a twang pulsing through her.

The male voice took over: "I mean, my lady friend axed our contacts to double-check and triple-confirm their findings, to make sure they really, truly got the right guy… They assured me they did, they provided all their evidence, but even so, I wasn't convinced."

"Oh, I don't like the sounds of this…"

For the first time since her new perspective, Leela had found herself halted in suspense, as the male voice began his analysis:

"So here's what we know, so far. We had little to go from, so figured that trailing him was the best course of action. Took us several days just to get a whiff, but thanks to the efforts of a long-lost acquaintance, we noticed those clothes as you described to us. He's been out and about, to say the least. We thought he'd be the only man in a million years to wear such things, so considered him our best lead."

Leela had perked her ears then and there. She knew that juries the world over would've judged for years on whether Fry & Mayfield's styles made them fashionably unique or complete dweebs, and no arguing as to any third opinions. The male voice pressed on, waiting on a reply but not getting one:

"From there, we took a day to nail down his rough area of living, confirming via various sewer networks for any residences in the area. Got a big-eared friend of mine to listen carefully for his toilet…"

A momentary pause, before he had a quick giggle of reminiscence.

"Ah, if you'll permit me a fond memory, that guy's a true prodigy, and I'm so glad I have his friendship. We actually met after he heard me fart from 100 miles away, and spread the word before I even knew."

"Eww, not sure I needed to know that!" Leela groaned.

"Then you won't wanna hear what comes after! So, 4 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon, I got word of some sewer pipes rattling in the area. 'Elephant Ears' confirmed his toilet, 'Hummer Hands' and 'Featherfinger' grabbed what came out and sifted through, and 'Picasso Nose' identified what was what by smell. Must've gotten real comfortable with everything, given the great details they gave upon contacting me."

Feeling those few drinks at the club surface a bit, she moved it along: "And those included?"

The sewer-borne Sherlock rattled off the list; stools that scented of the several junk foods the state was known for; Disco Square Fries, a Hoagie Hero, Texas Weiners, frozen custard from Nuklear Kohr's, and aside from those, a few salads, strangely enough.

Outside the foods, there were thick piles of coarse hair from a recent shave, clumpy & blackened like rotten seaweed. There was also a small collection of pages from erotic 'Zero-G Juggs' magazines, which he confessed through shameful whispering that he wished to keep them for further research.

Of course, such perverse thoughts earned him another squelchy slap from the lady aside him.

From an element of expectation to an exclamation of eureka, Leela leapt up and paced around, more excited than ever.

"Wait a moment, that's him… That must be him! The junk food, the depravity, the clean look… He hasn't changed much at all, thank goodness. But those foods, they sound awful familiar; remember having them for lunch & dessert to celebrate Zapp's ousting from the DOOP, and…"

Her eye flashed in horror, as she slowly came to the same conclusion they did.

"Wait a damn minute… Do you mean to tell me he no longer lives in New New York, but in…"

"Yes, where even we mutants dare not tread unless absolutely necessary… New New Jersey. Don't know whether to feel insult or pity towards him, to pick such a place…"

Leela gave a loud gulp, almost like her friend had spoken of some mythical creature of horror.

"For him to disappear to such a derelict corner of the country… What the hell did I do to him?"

The male voice immediately moved to reassure her: "Don't beat yourself entirely over that, sweetie. Given all your stresses & suffering, and the fact that he's still alive, it's obvious that you've held it together so well, right?"

"Thanks for the sentiment, but not well enough I'm afraid. What was I thinking, putting my work ahead of happiness? And also, where the hell could he be sleeping in that forsaken city, that anyone would call live…"

Giving herself a face-palm strong enough to knock a horse over, the answer came immediately to her.

"Oh dear God, how could I have been so stupid?!"

"Is something the matter, dear?" came the female's query.

"Hell, and it all made perfect sense too! The Orphanarium, the HQ, now New New Jersey… Maybe I do need to listen more often, about always searching home, around and beneath, for the keys. He was never a New New Yorker at heart!"

"I'm still wondering whatever you mean by all this."

"The Orphanarium was once my home, HQ was once Fry's home, and as for New New Jersey… I remember many years ago when my colleagues and I kicked Fry & Bender out of HQ, since they had been such inconsiderate, lazy slobs all the time. Then Fry comes into work one morning telling me of his sleepover at Bender's; poor guy looked absolutely awful to put it mildly. Offered to help, and among our inspections, we came across one property that seemed like the real deal… The same apartment that Mayfield must be at RIGHT now."

The female voice spoke up: "Well, if you really think so, then it's been our pleasure to help."

"Hey, you've done more than help. Just know that you've probably saved my life. Until now, I thought I'd have to consider a career change, a change of place… Both for something far worse than what I've got. Anyway, thanks so much once again, love you both!"

The male voice, pleased about his peerless work, carried on: "Right on, princess, think nothing of it. You ever need us again, you know where we'll be. Love you!"

Postponing the meeting and sleeping on it, she thought, would've given her plenty of time to pack some of her things, consider carefully what she'd say and how to say it, and hopefully get him to at least forgive her past deeds, and better yet, come back to work.

Not that she gave herself high hopes of achieving either…

After last week and change, since she slowly left him to die from a freshly cruel and callous beating, she had to imagine that he would've murdered her on his doorstep if given half a chance. She knew she deserved such hatred off the back of his proof, but didn't like the thought of it occurring either.

For the first time in ages, her mindset was finally on the mend, now having a sense of support, and she didn't want to lose that at all.

As an insurance policy of sorts, she'd bring along a tube of 'Miracle Cream' and rub herself down, in case he tried the very same thing. Other than such tricks, there'd be no games and no means of protection… Just herself, ready to apologise, explain it all, and promise a change off his emphatic vindication.

Answer any question, open-book style, he had about her and for the ways she acted against him; how she had truly grown up, all the suspicion and struggle, why the cream drove her crazy and much more besides.

Unfortunately, though she expected him to be quite the ticking time-bomb, she didn't, and couldn't, understand the true depths of how far his fuse had timed.

He was raring to explode, but as she was about to find out, that didn't necessarily mean he was going to take bits of her with him…