Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

The song "Hello, Mary Lou" belongs to Gene Pitney, Cayet Mangiaracina, and Imperial Records.

Yeah, Columbia's going to be miserable for the first ten chapters or so.

Also, I am a grad student and the semester is heating up (midterms and all that good stuff), so updates will be more sporadic from here on out. However, I will do my best to keep the gaps from getting too long.

One last thing - since this site doesn't all song lyrics, and this fic is going to involve songs from time to time, I'll have to describe the songs on here.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

IV. Dark

These were the kinds of days she hated: the ones where she knew something bad was going to happen, but she had no idea what. The clouds outside her window didn't help. They sat black and heavy, threatening rain and storms that probably weren't going to come.

She remembered her feelings a week-and-a-half ago. Despite her excitement for the events of that night, she'd felt uneasy too, as though something would send her good mood crashing down.

Storms? A feeling of dread? Sounded like a recipe for the worst days of her life.

After that dream last night, she was amazed she'd slept again at all. It was an uneasy sleep, but she didn't dream again, and she would take that over waking up feeling refreshed.

She caught sight of herself in her mirror on the way out. Her hair stuck out in all directions and she had raccoon eyes from the makeup she didn't get all the way off. She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair; why bother? She knew Riff Raff and Magenta wouldn't care. Frank probably wouldn't care, even though his hair and makeup were perfect in the mornings. (What was she saying? They were always perfect.)

If Eddie were here, that would be different, but… No, she wasn't getting on that path, not at this time of morning.

Going down the stairs, she noticed how quiet the castle was. No phantoms, servants, or creations lurked about. The lights in the hall were dim, enough that she could still see, but not more than the Transylvanians could handle. She wondered how someone could live on a world where it was night all the time. (Of course, the one time she said that out loud, Magenta just gave her a look and said she didn't understand how someone could live on a world with a sun.)

Maybe she timed this just right and she wouldn't have to share the kitchen with Frank and…him. She could just sit back, enjoy her breakfast, maybe gossip with Magenta over their coffee, think of how she could plan the rest of her day.

Music and the smell of coffee wafted into the hall as she approached the kitchen. At times like this, she was so glad the Transylvanians had taken to coffee, she didn't care she had to eat whatever passed for breakfast on their planet. She pushed the door open. From the corner of her eye, she saw Magenta and Riff Raff by the stove, eating together. She gave them a quick smile before turning her attention to the table.

Dammit, her timing was off again. Two blond heads occupied seats at the table, bent over that morning's newspaper – Frank sat at the head (naturally) and Rocky sat to his right.

All right, plan B: get coffee, eat and get out as quickly as possible.

Breakfast was a very informal affair in this house. A buffet of…whatever, along with a stack of plates, mugs, and a pot of coffee sat on the counter. In the center of the buffet sat a radio, on which the DJ cheerfully rambled on about weather, local news, and whatever song was coming on next. At least someone was in a good mood.

Frank looked up from the paper. "Good morning, Columbia."

"Morning." She muttered, waving her hand in Frank's general direction as she headed directly for the coffee pot.

"Good morning."

She didn't respond to that other voice as she filled her mug and picked up a plate. She heard enough of it in her dreams.

She could let all this out during her dance session later. For now, she concentrated on filling her plate, not noticing how the food looked this morning; after living with aliens long enough, you learned to stop questioning things. Besides, it was all edible, at least.

She also didn't notice that she forgot to add milk to her coffee until she took a sip. She always added plenty of sugar – enough to almost change it to the consistency of syrup – but she hated the bitterness of black coffee.

Right now, though, she reflected as she sat down, her coffee matched her mood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She wasn't looking at him. Instead, she either stared into her mug or at her plate, as if they held the answers to her problems.

Yeah, like bringing me back to life and replacing the other half of my brain.

Saying "good morning" wasn't working. Talking to her at all didn't seem to work. What could he say to her? "Last night, I heard you scream Eddie's name and almost yelled something back." Regardless of how she responded to that, Frank wouldn't take it well.

Well, like Frank, she seemed to talk a lot. Maybe he could try listening and find the right thing to say from there. He bent his head back down to the paper – Frank had insisted that if the two of them were going to be on this planet for a while, they'd better have some idea of what was going on – and kept his ears tuned to any conversation.

Frank, not one to let things be quiet for too long, cleared his throat. "I heard you tapping away in the lab again. How's that working for you?"

"Pretty good." She looked up from her mug to meet Frank's eyes, doing her best to avoid looking at him. "Are you going to need it again soon?"

Frank thought for a moment. "I shouldn't think so." He took a sip of coffee, looking over her head out the kitchen window. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

As they were coming downstairs earlier, Frank looked out the window and laughed to himself, "Just like home." He wondered what could be so lovely or homelike about it, but he assumed it was just something he hadn't learned yet.

He'd learned all about Frank's homeworld of Transexual, how it was night all the time and had two moons – one brighter than the other - instead of a sun. He didn't understand how that could work, but Frank had promised to show him.

The sound of Frank snapping his fingers pulled him out of his thoughts. "Turn it up, Magenta," His creator said. "I love this morning show."

He heard the radio grow louder, the DJ eagerly announcing the next song: "Let's take you back a ways, Denton! Before the Beatles, before the Stones, there was Ricky Nelson, and here he is with his classic hit, 'Hello, Mary Lou!'"

Now this is a good one. You mind?

Mind what? He quickly found out what, as he heard himself start to sing along about a girl named Mary Lou, and the guy losing his heart because he loved her.

Frank didn't look up; breaking into song was not that unusual in this house.

She loves this one.

She did? He shot her a quick look. She wasn't acting like it; her eyes were still down at her plate.

Still, it was a pretty catchy song.

It's early. Give her time.

He was enjoying this song, how the singer fell in love with Mary Lou when he saw her green eyes...

She snapped her head up, staring right at him. "How did you know that?"

His heart started to beat just a little faster. She actually spoke to him; now, to keep the conversation going. "Know what?"

"To sing 'green eyes' instead of 'brown eyes.'"

Oops.

Before he could say anything else, she bolted from her seat, her coffee and plate of food forgotten.

Damn, I forgot that's how I would sing it to her. The last thing she needs right now is to hear it from you.

He should have noticed the look on her face sooner. She looked hurt, like he was singing that song just to mock her.

He started to get up, but he felt Frank's hand on top of his. "Don't worry about her. She'll get over it."

He sighed, sitting back down. He was worried about her. She had to get over a lot lately, didn't she?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

The descriptions of the breakfast as just "whatever" comes from the fact that I cannot write food. I better get over that, since I have a food-themed chapter coming up (not the next one, but the one after).