A.N.: No, I didn't forget about this story!

Chapter 35

Foremath

Lloyd Mansion

Morning of the 27th

-NADINE-

I awoke, still wrapped in her embrace and for a moment, I wondered if this was one of those dreams where you think you woke up but it's still the dream. Because, surely, that couldn't have been real, right? I had dreamed the whole thing, telling her my feelings, kissing her, falling asleep on the couch in her arms, the sound of her dual heartbeat lulling me to dreamland.

And yet… I was here, snuggled up against her, her two right arms around me and her wing draped over us like a warm blanket.

She strirred now, perhaps woken by my own waking, her three eyes fluttering open. "Mmmm," she muttered, "Jus' a few more minutes… there'll be all day to ski…"

"Mornng, Rhonda," I whispered.

"Huh…?" She blinked, her consciousness fully starting to return. "Nadine? How'd you get he- wait… last night…"

"I'm not sure it was real either…. What do you remember?"

"You kissed me... right? And then… I asked you to stay… and we talked… and then I… I think I kissed you back…"

"So I didn't just dream that part, either…."

"No. No, it… was all real. Because I'm starting to remember all the awful stuff that led to it. Lila on the floor dying, Helga bringing her back, and then she was going on about being in Hell…" A haunted look began to creep back in to her eyes. "Because of me… I ruined her life…." She started to suddenly hyperventilate again.

"Rhonda!" I grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Listen to me. Breathe…. Breathe… calm down…" I began to sing softly. "Take a moment, remind yourself, to take a moment and find yourself…"

"Take a moment and ask myself…" She responded, matching my harmony.

"If this is how we fall apart…" we continued together. "But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not… It's okay, It's okay it's okay, it's okay, it's okay…"

"I've got nothing, got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear…"

"I'm here…"

"Thank you," she said. "I…. I think I'm good now…"

"I'm glad I could help."

"You help just by being here with me." She took another deep breath. "I want to explore this. You and me. I want to give it a shot."

"Rhonda, you don't have to make yourself be my girlfriend out of some misguided sense of obligation because I was here for you…"

"No, it's not like that at all. Look… we're twelve. I'm not sure either of us really knows what love truly is. All I know is, the way I felt just now, in each others' arms, it felt good. It felt right. I want to hold on to that feeling for as long as I can."

Okay, right, now's the part where I wake up in my bed and none of this ever happened. I blinked a bunch of times. Bit my tongue. Pinched myself.

Nope. Still here.

"So… I guess we're a couple now?" I said.

"I think so, yeah."

"Do we… do we have to pick out one of those couple names? Rhondine or something?"

"Hmmm…. I was thinking Nadonda but yours is a lot better."

"Then it's settled. Rhondine it is."

"I really, really don't want to get off this couch," Rhonda said, "but I just realized I've spent the entire night in this suit and it doesn't really breathe, y'know?"

"Aww… I guess all good things come to an end."

"I doubt it's the last time we'll be snuggling, Butterfly." OMG, she already has a cute girlfriend nickname for me!

"I guess I should be changing too," I said, when suddenly I noticed Rhonda's ears twitch a little.

"My folks are arguing with someone at the door," she said. "He keeps mentioning my name. He kinda sounds like… did you ever see Spider-Man? The older ones. He sounds like the newspaper editor. Gahhh… I really wish I had X-Ray vision at time like these."

"Who do you think it could be?" I asked.

"I have no idea," she said. "How about we find out?"

Slightly earlier…

"Look," Buckley Lloyd began upon seeing the newcomer at the door. "We sympathize with our less-priveleged brethren, but the Lloyds simply do not accept door-to-door solicitation. I'll give you the number of our charity fund…"

"Damn it, man, this is serious. All reality is at stake here! I absolutely need to talk to your daughter."

"…or perhaps I can recommend a good mental health professional. Please, wait here…"

"There's no time! Your daughter has attracted the attention of a malevolent entity and we must take steps to protect her and her friends!:"

"Now, listen here. I think we can both agree I've been quite patient with you, considering the fact that you have come to my door… directly after a burglary attempt, mind you… spouting utter nonsense about evil entities, but if you intend to drag my daughter into your paranoid delusions, I can assure you I have the ear of the chief of police, and I can see to it you spend a very long time in a very cold cell."

"Buckley, darling, what seems to be the problem?" Brooke Wellington, on her way to the kitchen to feed the cravings of the future Rhys Owen or Rhiannon Olivia, had stopped to investigate the goings on at the door.

"Nothing dear, this gentleman was about to leave."

"I know what your daughter is," he said.

This gave both pause. "What on earth are you talking about?" Brooke said unconvincingly. There was a reason she'd never had another role after Eternal Romance.

"Your daughter is a superhuman creature with purple skin, three eyes, four arms, and wings. Correct?"

Buckley began to look rather uncomfortable himself. "Sir, I would insist that you leave or I will call the police."

"Mr. Lloyd, I beg you to listen. Your daughter is in serious danger and I need to talk to her!"

"Dear, maybe we should listen to him…"

"No. I have dealt with enough charlatans over the past few weeks and you're jut one more."

"But…"

"No, I've made up my mind. This man is clearly a fraud, and I must insist…"

"OOF!"

Something had fallen off the ceiling. Or rather, someones. Some us.

"Are you okay, Nadine? I really thought that would work," Rhonda asked/apologized. Apparently it was a lot harder to crawl on the ceiling with a passenger.

"I think so. We really didn't fall too far."

"Rhonda, dear, you know how I feel about you crawling on the ceiling." Brooke scolded.

"Sorry, mom, I just wanted to get a better look without being seen… but I guess it's a bit late for that, isn't it. Besides, I think I know what this is."

We looked past Rhonda's parents at the newcomer. He was a tall, well-built, bespectacled man in what looked to be his sixties, dressed ruggedly and sporting what appeared to be a permanent five-o'clock shadow.

"Rhonda Lloyd, I presume," the newcomer stated.

"The one and only," Rhonda replied with a hair-flip. "Did Wendy send you?"

"Correct," he said. "My name is Stanford Pines, and we need to talk about Bill Cipher."

Sunset Arms

-HELGA-

I awoke to the smell of burning.

After Arnold, Gerald and I had helped Phoebe rush Lila to MDI, the three of us had returned here and pretty much passed out from sheer exhaustion. I hadn't even taken off my superhero suit. I'd just collapsed into my bed and blanked out.

When I awoke, Miriam was gone and something was on fire somewhere. I hurried downstairs just as the smoke alarms went off, following a trail of smoke wafting from the kitchen.

"Morning, dear," Miriam greeted me, in full Suzy Homemaker mode. "I figured that now that 'Halloween' was over, I could, maybe, bake some Christmas cookies. Only I'm afraid I seem to have made Christmas charcoal instead." She looked sadly at the thin festively-shaped briquettes arranged on the singed cookie sheet.

She's trying, I reminded myself. Ever since moving into the Sunset Arms, Miriam had been making a sincere effort to be a "real" mom. And she was getting better. While her attempt at baking had gone badly, she'd been staying clean, pitching in with the household chores, and even made a couple of dinners of varying edibility (but then again, her competition was Grandma, so she didn't look that bad in comparison).

"It's the thought that counts, mom," I replied, giving her a quick hug and wondering just when I had started defaulting to "mom" when addressing her instead of Miriam. "Maybe we can try again together?" I sniffed myself. Yikes, I was rank. "After a shower."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, dear!" She said, hugging me back. "Let's get started!"

Criminy, did I just volunteer to bake cookies with my Mom? What the heck is wrong with me?

"Well, I'd say this is a lot more like it!"

The second batch had turned out a lot less… incinerated. In fact, once they'd been decorated, they actually looked pretty good.

"That was… kind of fun," I admitted. Me. Helga G. Pataki. Badass space mutant and toughest chick in Hillwood. Baking cookies with mom. Who'da thunk it?

"Guess all I needed was an extra couple of pairs of hands, hmm?" Miriam joked,

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts," I said, "Here come the locusts."

The boarders had massed at the kitchen door, drawn by the smell. "Are those fresh Christmas cookies I smell?" Grandpa asked?

"Is it the Fourth of July already?" Grandma asked. "I could've sworn we had a while. I'd better start dyeing the eggs…"

"So, who do we owe thanks for this bit o' holiday cheer – step away from the cookies if ya value your fingers, Kakoshka!"

"What, I'm just doing an inspection. I have to… make sure they're up to the Cookie Code, eh heh heh heh!"

"These are amazing, Helga," Arnold marveled. "Did you make them?"

"Well, they were mom's idea, really. I helped a little… or a lot… I guess…" I said, blushing. What is it about praise from my beloved that makes me babble like an idiot?

"Okay, that's it, everyone out," demanded Grandpa. "There are way too many people in this room, and just one more…"

"Hello, everyone!" Olga from outta freakin' nowhere. She had ditched the secret agent uniform and gone back to her customary preppie look. "In honor of the season, I brought some of my homemade panettone. I hope everyone brought their appetites!" Figures she's gotta upstage me, the insecure part of my brain told me, while the more rational part reminded me that there was no way she could've known mom would suddenly have gotten a cookie-making compulsion or that I would voluntarily go along with it.

"OUT!" Insisted Grandpa. "This is already worse than that scene in A Night at the Opera!"

"Oh, nonsense," Olga said, wedging herself into the packed kitchen. "There's plenty of room. Oh, Baby Sis… did you make Christmas cookies? Those look positively scrumptious!"

"Well, it was me and mom…" I admitted.

"Oh, I can't wait to try them. Honestly, if I'd known, I wouldn't've bothered with the panettone. Between you and me, nobody really likes the stuff. Oh… I have a special surprise for you, Helga… I had Bridget make you up a little something."

That piqued my interest. A "surprise" from Olga usually meant something disgustingly girly, but if Bridget was involved, there was a chance it could actually be cool.

Meanwhile… outside the kitchen…

"I'm telling you, Stella… I smell cookies. Christmas cookies." Miles insisted.

"You know that's impossible, dear," Stella said, yawning. "Your mother never makes Christmas cookies on Christmas. Although… I bet a few of those might cheer Lila up… she isn't handling the transformation well."

"Maybe she'll be in a better mood when it's actually over…" Miles suggested.

"Maybe I shouldn't have left for the night…" Stella guiltily replied.

"You've been putting in late nights for a month, dear," Miles reassured. "There's no shame in taking a morning off to be with your family. Besides…. Her dad's there, right?

"Her dad, my assistants, Phoebe… she says she might actually be able to psychically help her with the pain."

"There, see? Lila's in good hands."

He hated seeing Stella like this. He wished something would happen to cheer her up…

"Now, let's investigate that smell, shall we?" Miles opened the door…

…and a pile of people spilled out in a heap.

Stella stared at the scene and began to giggle.

"I warned them," Grandpa reminded.

The giggling blossomed into full-blown hearty laughter as, troubles forgotten, Stella gave in to the silliness.

"So… what's this surprise you have for me?" I asked once the whole Marx Brothers incident had dispersed.

"Well… I spoke to Bridget about our night out last week, and how you have you heart set on being a crimefighter… and, well, I had her whip up a little something for you."

She opened a large, flat box on her lap, revealing a super-suit similar in design to the one Rhonda had ordered for me, except this one looked a lot more professional. Instead of cheap spandex, it was made of some unknown fabric that was probably exclusively available to Bridget's organization.

I took the costume out of the box. "You had her make this for me?"

"It's flexible, breathes easily, is bullet-resistant, and, most importantly, flame-retardant and resistant to extreme temperature changes. It even practically cleans itself. Only the best for my Baby Sis."

"Wow. This is… actually a really thoughtful gift."

"Go… try it on… I'll wait…"

Well, I could hardly leave her hanging after she'd gone to all the trouble, could I? I hurried back to my room and changed into the new suit, impressed at how comfortable it felt. Once changed, I rejoined my sister.

"Oh, you look darling!" Olga gushed, glomming on in one of her crushing hugs. Just like mom, she's trying, I reminded myself. If she can learn to be a better sister, you can learn to handle her quirks… annoying though they may be..

"Oooh, right, one more surprise," she reminded herself. "Activate your powers. Try… raising the temperature a bit."

I did so, increasing the heat around me by about twenty degrees, wondering what exactly she was getting at. In response, the pink parts of my costume shifted, turning to a red-to-orange gradient and taking on a flame pattern. "Okay… I thought this was cool, but it just got even cooler."

"It works with your cold powers, too," she confirmed. I tried lowering the temperature to test it, and the colored parts of my costume changed again, this time to a blue-white icicle theme.

"Okay, it's official," I said. "You just made up for every lame Christmas present you ever got me. This is straight-up awesome."

"Oh, I'm so glad you like it, b- Helga!" She hugged me again, though I noticed she had made a conscious effort to not crush the oxygen out of my lungs this time. By the Buddha, she legitimately was trying.

"Phone call, Eleanor!" interrupted Grandma. "It's Jackie Kennedy. She says Dr. Strangelove needs to discuss matters of vital importance."

"Jackie Kennedy" was our codename for Rhonda. As for Dr. Strangelove, who knows who that could be? "I'll be right there, Grandma," I said. I turned back to Olga. "So, uh… do you think you can talk Bridget into making a few more of these? I have some friends who also have powers…"

"I think that can be arranged," Olga said, smiling broadly. "Just let me know the specs and she can whip them up in a day or two."

"Thanks!" This time it was my turn to give her a crushing hug. Criminy, if this keeps up, I might actually become comfortable with human contact.

I took the receiver from Grandma. "Princess. Talk to me."

"Hey," she said. "You remember that guy Wendy said she was going to talk to about our… mutual triangular problem? Well… he just showed up on my front door. I think you really need to get down here."

Lloyd residence

-RHONDA-

"So… you say you were infected by spores. From inside a meteorite."

"Basically, yeah," I confirmed. I had filled in Stanford on the backstory of my transformation while brewing him some tea (he had insisted on his own blend, which he always carried with him. "Rare herbs from Dimension Ten," he'd said. "Helps to protect against the creeping madness." I'd elected not to argue).

We sat now in the parlor, Nadine and I on the couch and him in one of the overstuffed chairs, looking like a hobo Harrison Ford. "Is it okay for her to be here?" he asked.

"I can go," Nadine said, but I squeezed her hand reassuringly. I wanted to make it clear that I was fully on board with this new thing we had

"Anything you say to me, you can say in front of her," I said. Stanford raised an eyebrow but said nothing further.

"Very well," He said. "Now, there are two of you, correct?"

"Actually… there are four. There was one other girl infected at the same time we were but never captured, and just now a friend of ours was… hurt…" I felt Nadine squeeze my own hand back now; it was her turn to be my emotional anchor. "We were forced to spread the virus to her to save her life."

"This is bad," he said. "More infectees means more potential hosts for Cipher."

"What's the deal with this guy?" asked Nadine. That Stanf

"He's the single most dangerous being that has ever existed," Stanford stated. "An entity of pure madness and chaos, older than our known universe. If he were ever to fully manifest on this plane, the consequences would be disastrous. Even confined to a host body, the damage he could cause would be devastating, especially superhuman host bodies like yours. I'm told you possess electrical abilities. Imagine if a complete madman were to take control of the national electrical grid."

"I… don't think I'm that powerful," I said.

"You don't know what your limits are. Bill doesn't think in terms of limits, only possibilities. If there is a way to wreck the world, he will find it."

He proceeded to give us a crash course in all things Bill, culminating in the event known as Weirdmageddon.

"…luckily, my brother was able to recover his memories. But I don't wat to risk using that method again. Anyone else might not have been so lucky."

"What about that Zodiac thing you mentioned?" Nadine asked. "Couldn't you get all of those guys together again to trap him?"

"That was my first thought. But circumstances have changed." He pulled a book out of his backpack, the cover decorated by a six-fingered hand imprinted with the number 3. I noticed now for the first time that Stanford had twelve fingers. Then again, I'm one to talk. I have sixteen.

He opened the book to a double-paged spread near the middle, revealing a silhouette of Bill surrounded by a ring of about fifteen disparate symbols.

"So, each of these symbols represent someone. And you know exactly who they represent, so why can't you get them all over here?" I asked.

"That's the thing," he said. "These aren't the original symbols I recorded. Somehow, they've been changed. For one… there were originally only ten symbols. I don't know who's been tampering with my book or how they did it, but the original zodiac no longer seems to exist. And we have no way of knowing who these new symbols represent."

I looked over the symbols. A heart. A scroll. An owl's head. An oyster, half-open, revealing a pearl. A… ham? A boot. A jack o'lantern. A moon. A spoon. A butterfly. An inverted horseshoe. A flower. A broken pair of glasses? A pair of clasped hands. And some kind of weird eye symbol, bringing us around to the beginning of the wheel.

Nadine prodded me. "Rhon… do some of these look familiar to you?"

"Now that you mention it… that boot looks an awful lot like one of Sid's."

"And the flower is the exact one on that shirt Sheena's always wearing…" Nadine noted.

"Yo. Princess! Nature Girl!" Helga had arrived, bringing Arnold in tow and the distinct smell of cookies.

"Good timing, Helga," I said. "This is Stanford Pines. He might be our one hope of dealing with Bill Cipher. Mr. Pines… this is Helga Pataki, and Arnold Shortman."

"Hmm… I met a Philip Shortman when I was investigating a sasquatch sighting forty years ago. Any relation?"

"He's my grandfather!" confirmed Arnold.

"Interesting. You look absolutely nothing like him."

Arnold ignored his comment, for he had caught sight of the book spread across the table. "Is that the sigil of the Green Eyes?" he inquired, the zodiac wheel.

"Hey, yeah," Helga said, pushing past Stanford. "What's it doing in there?"

"These symbols represent specific individuals, destined to be the ones to defeat Bill once and for all."

"And if it's a Green Eyes sign, that probably means you're one of them, Football Head," Helga smirked, poking him. "Figures you'd be the Chosen One again."

"Not just me, Helga. Look at that heart next to it. Look familiar?"

Quietly, Helga took out a golden, heart-shaped pendant from under her sweatshirt. Its shape was an exact match for the symbol. "Huh," was all she managed to say.

"It's not just you two," I said. "I think these symbols represent all of us. Look at that one," I said, pointing to the spoon. "Bill was always calling me 'Silver Spoon' in my dreams. This one must represent me. And the butterfly has to be Nadine." Nadine blushed slightly at my use of her new pet name.

"So, what's the deal?" Helga said, regaining her usual irreverent nature. "We gather everyone together so we can all hold hands and sing 'Kumbayah?'"

"Actually, that's not far off," Stanford admitted. "We need to determine which symbol represents who, gather everyone together, and link hands exactly in this order once Bill manifests. That should expel him from reality permanently."

"We'd better get started, then," Arnold said. "I bet Bill's just looking for the chance to make his move."

MDI

That night

-LILA-

They had finally left me alone, the ghouls in her friends' and family's faces, alone to cry myself to sleep.

I dreamed I was back in the haze, walking towards the light, but this time I was in the strange, green-skinned, multilimbed body that Hell had crafted for me.

"Are you there?" I whispered, unused to speaking with fanged teeth and forked tongue. "Am I pure yet?"

"STEP FORWARD, LOST SOUL," it spoke.

"Then… it's time?" I asked.

"YOUR TIME HAS INDEED COME, DEVOTION," the voice said. A hand reached out of the blinding glow. "TAKE MY HAND. YOUR REWARD AWAITS."

At last. I would be free. I would see my mother's face again.

I reached out and took the angel's hand…. And yelped as it suddenly burst into flame.

"SUCKER." He said.

A. N. And. Here. We. Go.

Jose: Oh, yes, Bill is definitely playing to win now.

As for powers, they're not entirely a product of the alien genes, but the combination of alien and human. You're also correct that personality plays a part, and that stress is a factor in making those powers manifest, but you're off on the power she's going to develop. As for a hint… remember her career in the "And You May Ask Yourself" timeline.

Join us next time for "Losing Myself", as Lila learns she's been screwed over the hard way.