10. Heal

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

This story is rated T (at least for now; I may change it to M later on down the road. Maybe.)

So, word-wise, the last few chapters have been kind of…a lot. This time, I tried to rein myself in and keep each segment to under 1000 words; I failed, but by golly, I tried. I hope I can stick to that in the future, but who knows how caught up I'll get in the story.

This chapter also marks the start of something I planned on doing for this story: incorporating elements from Shock Treatment and Revenge of the Old Queen. I won't necessarily be setting things up in this story to fit with the sequels; it's more that I'll pick and choose characters and details that I think would fit well.

Happy reading!

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It was shaping up to be another dark, cloudy day. Not helping matters were the painful twinge in her neck and the pounding headache as she sat up. Hangovers were nothing new, but they had never come with neck pain before; she probably had to thank herself for falling asleep with her head hanging to one side.

In the time it took to drag herself out and to the bathroom mirror, memories of how she rang in the New Year fought their way through the pain. Her determination not to let any memories of the last year get her down again; the bottle of Jack she swiped from the kitchen; the movie marathon she'd settled down to watch; passing out at some point after midnight. (She forgot which movie was playing, but it involved either robots or Mae West.)

First things first, get rid of the headache. That was easier said than done, as the bottle of aspirin rattling even a little made her head split. She managed it, somehow or other, cupping water in her hands to swallow the pills with. As she made her way down the stairs, she mentally thanked Frank for keeping the castle so dark; it helped on mornings like this.

Outside the kitchen, she braced herself as the sounds of Frank laughing and the coffee machine floated into the hall. It's still early, she assured herself. I can get through this.

The wall monitor was tuned to the local TV station, DTV. However, whatever was airing went to commercial right as she came in and Frank chose that moment to turn around. "Now it's really a party!" He announced, lifting a mimosa in the air. "Columbia's joining us!"

The kitchen was busier than usual. The Phantoms typically hung back from breakfast, appearing around the castle at some later point, but now they were all gathered, taking up extra chairs and counter space. Frank and Rocky were in their usual chairs, and Riff Raff and Magenta were around the sink, working on the dishes that had piled up yesterday (or was it last year?).

The Phantoms cheered and clinked their own glasses, making her wince and her head pound a little. Helping herself to breakfast at the counter, she barely paid attention as the commercials went back to the news, which currently featured an editorial on George Carlin hosting the Dick Clark New Year's Eve special. (She kicked herself a little for missing that; she loved George Carlin.)

She was prepared to fight for a seat as she headed for the table, but her usual chair on Frank's left was suddenly free. As she sat down, she saw why: the Phantom who had been sitting there, one of the males, had been into the lap of the female Phantom next to him. He looked from her to his seatmate, who had her arms around his waist, and gave a big, exaggerated shrug.

She giggled and started eating. Movement in front of her made her lift her head. Rocky had been looking at her, but as soon as she looked back at him, he instantly stared back down at his plate.

"So, make any resolutions for this year?"

Frank had turned his attention from the monitor to her again. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, it wasn't happening. "I didn't plan on it." She said, sipping her coffee and contemplating if it wasn't too late about resolving not to go for any more of Frank's shit.

Her response seemed to be enough, as Frank looked back at the monitor, making rude remarks at the anchors (especially the guy without a neck) and amusing anyone who would listen. That suited her just fine, and she finished her breakfast without incident.

"Son of a bitch!" She jumped as Magenta shrieked, yanking her hand out of the sink and grabbing a towel. Riff Raff was already next to his sister, but she vaulted out of her seat as well. If her friend was in trouble, she wasn't about to just sit by. As soon as she arrived, Riff Raff started opening cabinets and banging them shut.

"What happened?" She asked. Magenta responded by pulling the towel away to show a cut on her palm that quickly started bleeding again. She gasped, but one thing immediately came to mind. Somewhere in the cabinets and drawers was a stash of band aids, which Riff Raff had thrown himself into finding. (She never thought she'd meet someone so protective.) Well, she could help find them faster.

She started pulling out drawers and sifting through the contents, leaving them open in case she had to go through them again. This proved unnecessary, as she spied the box at last. "Found them!" She called, taking the box out and setting it on the counter, where Magenta snatched it up. The maid covered her cut in no time and tossed the box back.

Applause broke out from the table; it looked like the Phantoms had been following the proceedings intently, along with Frank, who just seemed bored (big surprise there).

Magenta shot her a half-grin in thanks, along with Riff Raff staring at her over his glasses. That was all she'd get from them, but she knew they were truly grateful; it was just how they were. She grinned back.

She did her best to ignore Rocky, who had stared at her through the whole operation, as if he couldn't comprehend what band aids were for.

Her resolve strengthened as she left the kitchen and a little voice piped up that she was being ridiculous; it was a new year, this had gone on long enough, and she should just give Rocky a chance.

Time to tap that little voice back into submission.

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So, this was the first day of 1974. Maybe it was just him, but it didn't feel any different.

They usually don't, kid.

He and Frank had gone back to their room shortly after the incident in the kitchen. Magenta seemed alright (not that he could have stayed to find out; once Frank grabbed his arm, all he could do was follow). It was clear Frank had something planned for them, but he didn't get a chance to find out as the bedside monitor began beeping.

His creator sighed. "Of all the times to check up on me." He muttered, rolling over and pressing whatever buttons he needed to make the noise stop. The screen lit up, and a voice began saying "Please stand by to receive transmission" over and over as Frank turned back to him. "I'm sorry, darling." He said, looking the saddest he had ever seemed (except maybe when he sang about going home). "This is going to take a while. Why don't you step out for a while," he started motioning to the door rather urgently, "and I'll come find you when they're finished with me."

By now, he thought he was getting good at picking up on his creator's tones and decided that his questions could be answered later. He scooted off the bed and headed out into the hall, pulling the door shut.

He doesn't want to show you off to whoever's calling? What's going on?

As he started wandering the halls, it dawned on him that this might be good, since he needed some time to process what happened at breakfast, namely how Columbia vaulted out of her seat. That was the fastest he had ever seen her move, even when she was getting away from him. She wasted no time in helping find what Magenta needed, and she stayed until it was all over.

Who else would she do that for? Frank? True, she threw herself between him and the laser, but that was just part of an act. Would she do that for real? Would she throw herself into helping just anyone?

The sight of pink and red caught his attention. There she was, down the hall, a tap shoe under her right arm and bracing herself with her left against the wall. She was standing on one foot, holding the other, the one without a shoe, behind her.

Something was wrong, and that wasn't just because of his lingering sense of foreboding. He'd probably regret trying this again, but… "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?!" She snapped, making him flinch.

"Sorry." He backed away, questioning when he was going to learn that she didn't like talking to him.

Instead of moving on, however, she just closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I wasn't looking where I was walking, and I smashed my toe."

"What happened?" Even he could tell that was a stupid question, but of all the ways he thought she'd respond, sheepishness was not one of them. She changed completely, nervously twirling a strand of hair. "Elvis came on the radio. 'Burning Love.'"

Her favorite Elvis song. That explains it.

"The strap on one of my shoes broke and I was going to my room to get my other pair when it came on. I got so caught up in it, I didn't notice the edge of the doorway at the lab and, well…"

She held her foot out in front of her. He bent forward; even through the black material of her stockings, he could see something swollen and purple. It made him instinctively curl his toes.

It took a few moments to sink in that she was willingly talking to him. Well, she wasn't drunk, she wasn't trying to ignore him, and unless Frank came bounding in, like at the Christmas party, he decided to take this one step further. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Shoving a red curl behind her ear and looking like she really didn't want to be here, she took another deep breath before saying in the calmest voice he'd ever heard from her, "I don't suppose you could help me back to my room?"

He froze. Did she really mean that?

Kid, this is the best chance you've had so far. Take it!

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help me?!" She shrieked, making him jump. Before he could respond, she motioned him to stand next to her and then flung her arm around his neck. After shifting her balance from the wall to him, they started making their way down the hall. He followed her directions, brusquely telling him which way to turn, or when he started walking too fast.

Coming around a corner, who should they run into, but Magenta, who was not even trying to dust a nearby table. She looked back and forth between them, her expression unchanging. His cheeks started to heat, and his throat went dry as he awkwardly motioned to Columbia with his head. "She hurt her toe."

As if on cue, she held her bad foot out, leaning against him even more. Her hair was suddenly in his face, and it smelled a lot like strawberries.

Looks like she's still using that shampoo she always loved.

He filed that away for things to wonder about later as Magenta briefly examined Columbia's toe and stood up again, looking straight at him. "Get her to her room." She said. "I'll get some ice." The maid headed for the stairs and he started towards the bedroom again. After another turn, she told him to stop and nudged the door open. Her room was small (compared to his and Frank's, anyway), and every surface was cluttered to some extent, but it looked cozy.

It hasn't changed. A feeling of familiarity made him stop in the doorway, but she didn't seem to mind, as she pulled her arm back and hopped the few steps to her bed on one foot, dropping the shoe with broken strap. She sat down and let out a sigh of relief, which made him shake his head. No time for getting lost in thought; he had to concentrate.

Magenta wasn't back with the ice yet, but he wasn't ready to leave. Like Columbia did downstairs, he was going to see this to the end. "Anything else I can do?" She was in the process of taking off her other shoe and stopped. Oh no; he ruined this moment too, didn't he?

"Yeah. There's a bottle of aspirin in my bathroom. Can you get me a couple?" She said it so quietly, he almost didn't hear it. Once it sank in, he didn't hesitate. The bathroom was straight across from the door, and it was the tiniest room he'd ever been in. Yup, just as small as I remember.

He found the bottle easily enough and shook two into his palm. Get her a drink. A glass next to the sink worked for this.

Stepping out, he saw Magenta had arrived with a bundle wrapped in a towel. Columbia pulled herself onto her bed, stretching her legs in front of her and eagerly motioning to her foot. Magenta set the bundle – presumably, the ice – on the purple toe, which made the tap dancer smile widely and lean her head back.

It took him a moment to realize he still had the pills and the glass in his hands. She slowly turned her head his way and stared at him, before he stuck his hands out. She grabbed the pills and popped them in her mouth, before taking the glass from his other hand. As she started draining the glass, he noticed

Magenta staring at him. Normally, he would have found this creepy, but she had looked at him like that plenty of times. What else was there to see?

"I can take care of things from here." The maid said, nodding her head towards the door. That was clear enough for him and he turned to leave.

"Hey."

He turned and…wait, was Columbia actually smiling?

"Thanks."

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

There we have it. Something positive between them, and all it took was Columbia nearly breaking her toe. (Don't worry, that won't be the norm for all their positive interactions.)