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

This story is rated T. (If it should be an M, I'll change it.)

Hooray! A chapter that didn't take me forever to write! Who knows? Maybe I can cut my writing time down from two months to one.

Also, I am starting to realize that I am in need of a beta reader. Not necessarily for spelling and grammar (although it never hurts to have a fresh pair of eyes), but more for continuity and logistics. Does everything make sense? If you're interested, message me and we can figure things out from there.

Anyway, enjoy!

13. Silence

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Sometimes, the quiet in the house got to her.

She shouldn't be that surprised. It was a castle; the only time it wasn't quiet was during Frank's parties that stuffed the place to the brim. But now - except for a handful of aliens, a living mad science experiment, and herself - the place was empty, and oh boy, the silence wrapped you up like a blanket.

Maybe that's why she loved tap so much; anything to keep herself from being swallowed by the size of the castle. If she made enough noise, she'd stand out (even if she just got on people's nerves) and not just be part of the scenery.

That being said, she didn't always mind the silence. Sometimes, she and Eddie would just cuddle up together, not saying a word. She didn't have to prove anything to him, or try to justify her presence in general. They just enjoyed each other's company.

Then, there was always Magenta. Maybe it was just because she was naturally quiet, but spending time with her made the stillness easier to handle.

It was a Saturday night shortly after she moved in, and the thrill of living in an actual castle had worn off. There was nothing good on TV and Frank had taken the pickup for some "errand" that didn't involve her, leaving her stranded. (She could have walked, but town was too far on foot. Besides, Denton didn't have much to offer someone looking for a good time.)

With nothing better to do, she'd taken it upon herself to explore. If this was her home now, it would probably be best to learn where everything was, and it was embarrassing to keep asking directions.

She set off from her room with a pencil and notepad, in the hopes of making a map. This fell apart when it dawned on her that the halls were twisting and turning on themselves; she could (and probably did) go down the same hall over and over. Finally, she'd just given up on the map and started going in what she hoped were circles. One of these had to lead back to her room, and something was bound to look familiar.

She didn't know how old the castle was, but it creaked, rumbled, moaned, buzzed, hummed, whispered, and there seemed to be footsteps all around. At one point, she thought she heard music playing, but it could have been coming from any direction. Her mouth had gone dry, so talking to reassure herself was out; not that she was scared (although she started expecting Vincent Price to step out of the dark with a skeleton on a string).

That was how she eventually found Magenta's room. The whirring of a hair dryer caught her attention, finally giving her something to follow. Unlike everything else she had heard so far, this was coming from one definite direction, and her heart beat a little faster as she approached, low light spilling out of an open doorway. She paused for a moment - she had no idea who was in the room, and how would they react to her just showing up? - but moved on just as quickly. After wandering for who knows how long, she wasn't about to give up this chance of actually talking with someone else.

Not even the sight of the room's occupant could shake her. She had never seen Magenta out of her maid's uniform. There she was, sprawled on her room's small couch, wearing only a silk camisole under a short, black sheer robe. Her blond curls floated as she ran the hair dryer under them.

She was so taken by the sight that she only realized too late that the hair dryer wasn't on anymore. Now Magenta was looking at her visitor with a start that combined her distinct blend of disinterest and annoyance "Yes?"

"I got lost" nearly flew out of her mouth, but she caught it in time. She had a pretty good idea of what the maid thought of her - not better than the yapping dogs rich women on TV carried around - and she wasn't about to add "completely helpless" to the list. No, try to make herself look good. She straightened up, trying to imitate the taller woman's build. "I'm bored." (Was her voice shaking, despite her effort?)

Magenta's expression didn't change. "And?"

Now what? "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out." Again with that stare. "You know, like a sleepover?"

"A what?"

"You've never had a sleepover?"

"What is that?"

Did they not have sleepovers in Transylvania? "It's great! We'd stay up all night, making popcorn, listening to music, doing each other's hair, painting our nails, telling secrets..." She trailed off. What was with her? She was never awkward like this. Maybe it was the lack of reaction, or the way Magenta's eyes pinned her to the spot. Right now, she was afraid to even breathe loudly; maybe making absolutely no noise *would do something good.* Either that, or the inevitable "Go away" was coming. Should she leave now, spare Magenta the trouble? A hasty apology crossed her mind.

"If you're going to just stand there, my makeup's on the dresser."

Ok, no problem. She could entertain herself some other way. Sorry for-"Really?"

Magenta said nothing; her only response was to wave the hair dryer in a "Nobody's stopping you" gesture. She knew enough of a hint when she saw one and mumbled "Thanks" as she made her way to the dresser. The light was dim enough that it was hard to make out specific colors, but she'd noticed Magenta tended to veer towards darker colors to complement her pale skin. (hey, it works for Alice Cooper). A cluster of nail polish bottles sat to one side, and, not wanting to overthink this, she grabbed the first one she saw before turning back to the couch, which Magenta was still lounging on. "Can I sit down?"

This got a raised eyebrow as a reaction, as if she was seriously asking. She didn't want to be rude, and Magenta looked pretty comfortable, but it must have been enough as the blond woman shifted to settle her legs underneath her. There was just enough space for her to sit, and she did, trying to be as smooth and graceful as she could.

Magenta had put the hairdryer aside, running a comb through her hair and seemingly looking everywhere but at her. Fine; if she had to be the one to break the silence, that's what she was going to do. She rolled the bottle of polish between her fingers, and an idea came to her. "Can I paint your toes?"

Now Magenta was staring at her, but she wasn't going to be intimidated by whatever the maid thought of her. She held the gaze of those dark eyes, not even daring to blink (although she wondered what she was going to do if this turned into a staring contest). Maybe staring someone down was how you made a good impression in Transylvania.

That must have been the case, as Magenta eventually shrugged and stretched her legs out, depositing her feet in Columbia's lap. "If you wish."

Oh, she did wish. She suppressed a squeal of delight as she unscrewed the bottle and began painting. The light was dim enough that she couldn't name the color, but there was plenty for her to work by (no point in coming so far, only to make a mess). Despite her concentration, she heard the click of a TV remote, and brief snatches of voices and music between channels. She looked up briefly to see the DTV logo, and the voice of an announcer said "DTV invites you to enjoy our Saturday Night movie, The Brain that Wouldn't Die."

She smiled to herself as the movie started - where did they come up with movie names like that? - and occasionally looked up between toes to catch little bits. Before she knew it, she had reached Magenta's second pinky toe, holding the brush gently to avoid streaking the surrounding skin with polish. The glow from the sreen and the dim light combined to make the room bright enough to view her handiwork. Not bad, if she said so herself. Now for the moment of truth…

"Ta-da!" The perkiness sounded forced to her, but if it bothered Magenta, she didn't let on. She turned her head from the movie and leaned forward for a better look at her toes. The second seemed to drag. Magenta said nothing and her only movement was her toes flexing as she took in the polish. A particularly bright glow, courtesy of a commercial, bathed the two of them in white light and she got a proper look at the color: black with silver glitter. It was beautiful, like a starry sky.

She risked a look at Magenta. Even as the room went dark and the movie came back on, she could see the other woman's expression clearly: Magenta was touched. "What do you think?"

"They look just like the skies of Transylvania." Her voice was hushed, breathless. Her expression had softened… "How did you do it?" The awe in Magenta's voice made it sound like she'd done something impossible. She couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since Magenta last did her nails (maybe it had been a while, if working for Frank kept her busy). However, she wasn't going to let her confusion show. She grinned sheepishly. "I'm just full of surprises."

The only sound in the room came from the movie, but the silence between them was different now. It was less awkward and suffocating, more like something comfortably shared between friends (her heart skipped a beat as the word crossed her mind). She didn't even want to kick herself for asking "What do you want to do now?"

The movie seemed to answer for them. Screeching tires and screaming erupted, drawing their attention to the screen as a car went over a cliff. She looked back at Magenta, who had her lips pressed together, trying to ward off what looked like a smile. "How about finishing this movie?"

That sounded good to her.

They talked back to the movie and laughed out loud. When the movie ended, they decided to watch whatever came next. This turned out to be an episode of some old show she had never heard of that was trying to be The Twilight Zone. The episode, with its over-the-top acting and story about a gambler who kept digging himself deeper in a poker game, brought more laughs out of them. It also gave them both an idea.

That was how their poker games started. They didn't have any kind of schedule for their games, they'd just decide it was time. The most obvious hint was when one of them would pull out a deck of cards and start shuffling, the gentle sound working just like a siren song. Neither would they decide when the games would end; they'd keep playing as long as they both wanted to (or until one got the prize she wanted from the other. Usually, that just meant makeup or random knick-knacks. If they wanted really high stakes, they'd bet clothes or albums.)

Tonight would be one of those nights. She pulled the cards out after dinner while Magenta finished up with the dinner dishes. Shuffling the cards came easily to her, and the sounds they made flapping against each other would have enticed anyone looking for a good time.

The sigh told her enough even before Magenta turned around. "I can't tonight. I have...plans."

Magenta didn't have to explain her "plans." Frank and Riff Raff had been in the lab all day, Frank no doubt barking orders nonstop and Riff Raff obeying no matter what. The butler looked exhausted during dinner, which meant Magenta would step in to take care of him, and...well, she didn't need to fill in the blanks.

Soon, she was alone again, the kitchen quiet except for the occasional hum of the refrigerator. Everyone else was gone; even the Phantoms had slunk off into the shadows. Frank had taken Rocky off to do God-knows-what. That only left her, seated at the kitchen counter with a deck of cards.

"Well", she joked bitterly to herself, "there's always solitaire."

She had just started laying the cards out when Rocky came in.

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By now, he was used to being left on his own; that didn't mean he'd liked it.

Frank never said what he planned for their nights together until they were out of the dining room. His creator would hold him close, guiding him through the halls of the castle. More often than not, they'd end up at the small theater to watch a movie Frank would call "the greatest of all time." He'd never know what to expect, but his creator's enthusiasm was contagious. If Frank wanted to relax in the Zen Room, or try some new sexual position, or even go for walks on clear nights to show him the stars (and point out Transylvania when it was visible), that was what they did. Regardless of what his creator decided, he knew it was better to keep his mouth shut. oh, he could ask all the questions he wanted, and Frank would gladly answer, as long as those questions didn't criticize how his creator was doing things.

Like today, for example; he'd had the day to himself (again) and spent most of it in the gym (again, less for a workout and more for a space away from the others). Around dinnertime, Frank had come for him, and hadn't left his side since, squeezing his hand under the table and steering him out of the dining room as the dishes were being cleared. All the while, he'd barely said two words as he guided onto a bench in one of the halls, doubting the other man would notice (or care).

"You've been so quiet today. What's going on with you?" Frank didn't so much crawl as melt into his lap, the painted nails weaving their way into his hair

Ok, this was different. He had to answer, but what would work? I thought you'd like it better if I didn't talk? I've barely seen you all day; what are you doing? If you created me for yourself, why am I alone all the time? "I just don't want to ask too many questions and annoy you." That'll work.

"Annoy me?" Frank looked amused, like he'd just told a great joke. "Darling, you could never do that." Those lips, dark red and sparkling, claimed his before pulling away a few moments later. "I have to check on something. I'll be right back."

How long was "right back" supposed to be? If what Frank had to check on was important, couldn't he have done it earlier, while they were apart? Maybe it had to do with whatever they were doing tonight. He could be patient.

That was 30 minutes ago, if the large coffin clock down the hall was anything to go by.

Not a surprise, huh, kid? No, no it wasn't. Frank hadn't told him to stay, and his creator probably wouldn't be happy if he got up, but this was ridiculous. He didn't want to just sit here. In a castle this big, there had to be someone else around, or something to pass the time with. He set off in a random direction, with a good feeling that Frank would find him anyway.

None of the other rooms caught his attention, until he came to the all-too-familiar kitchen door. He wasn't hungry, but maybe he could find something to do or someone else to talk to. He pushed the door open.

There she was, sitting at the counter with a bunch of playing cards spread out in front of her. Her head darted up, with a smile that immediately fell as he came in. He hadn't seen her much since that other morning. Was she waiting for him? Did she think he was someone else? However, her expression changed again just as quickly; not quite happy, sad, or angry, but…pleasant. "Hey." She said, her voice as calm as her face.

"Hi." This was surprising, but he found himself not expecting her to lash out. Eddie wasn't saying anything; was his brain having an effect, helping him be a little more at ease?

"What brings you here?" Maybe she was waiting for Frank; after all, she'd seen them leave together.

He could only shrug. "Nothing much." Other than Frank disappearing? "What are you doing?"

"Playing with myself." She broke into a fit of giggling. "That's a joke Eddie and I came up. It's stupid, but…" Her laughs came harder, until her face looked ready to split from smiling. Hey, it's not stupid! Eddie didn't sound angry; in fact, he sounded like he was laughing as much as she was. The good mood spread to him, and his lips turned into a smile of his own.

After her laughter died down, she started staring at him, or maybe somewhere around him. It was hard to tell what got her attention (unless someone else had slipped in behind him), but she wasn't glaring or making it obvious he should leave. He nearly jumped when she asked "Do you know how to play poker?"

"No." Should he know? Frank had never mentioned it.

Apparently, his not knowing didn't matter, as she immediately straightened up. "I can show you." She grinned, motioning him over and patting the spot at the counter across from hers.

He hesitated, remembering the last time she invited him to join her at the counter. (Maybe "invited" wasn't the right word.)

When she saw he wasn't moving, her good mood immediately started to deflate. "You're right." She said in a quieter voice than before. "We're just starting to get along and I'm already pushing things. You don't have to sit down."

Come on, this is your chance! "No, it's okay." He insisted, pulling out the stool opposite hers and taking a seat. She looked at him, warily. "Are you sure?" He nodded eagerly (maybe a little too eagerly.)If she was still unsure, she didn't say as she pulled the cards into small piles and put them back together again. He watched the fluid motion of her hands in awe, only noticing the handful of cards right in front of him when she pointed.

Those are your cards. "Those are yours." The words came at almost the exact same second. There was no way she heard Eddie, but she just seemed to know, like the two of them had planned it. He picked the cards up, hoping she couldn't see his hands shaking. She held hers. Maybe this was his first lesson. He started spreading his cards out between his hands, trying to match hers; somehow, they weren't looking quite right.

"Here," she said, breaking through his concentration, "let me help you." The word "help" registered as her hand touched his, adjusting his cards into a more even spacing.

Help.

She said she'd "help," and she did. It wasn't for something big, he knew that, but she'd reached out to him. Things really were changing. See, don't worry so much. She really wants to try again.

His line of thinking was broken again, this time by the clattering of a pile of silverware that showed up in the counter space between them. "Okay, now we can start." Columbia announced, clowning a nearby drawer from her stool (well, that explained where the silverware came from). "Look at your cards."

He did so. There were only five: 3 of Diamonds, 7 of Hearts, 7 of Clubs, 2 of Diamonds, and Ace of Hearts. A pair of sevens. Not bad for your first hand, kid. His first hand? But he had two; which one had come first?

"What have you got?" Don't worry, kid. She'll explain it to you. Well, Eddie knew her better, and if he was so sure… He held his cards out, holding them tight enough to hopefully not ruin how she had helped set them. She leaned forward, her eyes roving over each card, before sitting back again. "Not a great hand, but not a bad one, either."

Okay, he followed her logic, maybe. "Really?"

She held up a finger with a sly smile. "Here's your first lesson. Never let anyone else see your cards. Poker is all about bluffing."

"What do you mean?"

"In a regular game, we wouldn't see each other's cards. We'd have to make each other think our hands - that's what the cards are called - are either really good or really bad."

So he knew what a "hand" was now, but this was going to be a long lesson (which he realized he didn't mind). "Why?"

"To make the other person lose. If I thought you had a really good hand, I'd probably fold." Fold cards? How did that work? His confusion must have shown on his face

"That means I'd give up," She said. "On the other hand, if I thought you had a bad hand, I'd try to get you to fold. It all depends on your poker face."

"Poke face?" He felt kind of dumb repeating her, but she just nodded, looking excited to tell him more.
"Lesson number two: Players can't see your cards, but they can see your face. If you look happy, sad, or anything other than calm and focused, they'll think you're reacting to your cards. Watch this." She looked down at her cards and a change came over her. Her eyelids lowered a little, she relaxed her shoulders, and her concentration moved between her cards and the silverware.

He knew where he'd seen that face before: the Christmas party, when she went from crying her eyes out to almost blank as Frank entered the kitchen.

And it was at that moment an all-too-familiar voice came from behind. "Having fun?"

His heart stopped. Frank had told him to wait and, no doubt, gone looking for him (or checked the monitors, at least). Remember, poker face. That was easy for Eddie to say. Frank had only said it once, but he didn't want to know what "getting his plug pulled out" meant.

Stay calm, kid. He can smell fear. Okay, he could do this. He couldn't just focus on his cards. What else was there? The silverware? Columbia? Frank? Wait, that was it. He slowly turned and focused on Frank's dripping-diamond choker as his creator sauntered closer (despite his shaking hands, he was feeling calmer already). Hopefully, the change that came over Columbia would show on him.

For her part, the redhead hadn't even reacted. "Frank," she said, picking another card out of the deck.

Frank barely spared her a glance as two manicured fingers slipped under his chin and tilted his head just a little higher to those catlike eyes. "I tell you to wait for me, and the next thing I know, you're gone!" The scientist's voice broke into a laugh as he said this, but it wasn't a nice laugh. "You're quite good at slipping away to someone else. Am I going to have to keep my eye on the two of you now?"

He could have answered, but Columbia broke in. "Don't worry, Frank. You can have him."

That flat voice held no sign of having just patiently, but excitedly, talked him through bluffing and poker faces. He could feel his poker face slipping already, as well as two gloved hands on either side of his head as Frank, who had grabbed the stool next to his, leaned in close. "Oh, don't you listen to her." He said, in that gentle voice he used during their tender moments. "She never knows when something good's right in front of her. Why do you think she hung on to Eddie?"

You sonuva- Eddie cut himself off, probably because the anger was coming off him in waves (which was quite impressive for only half a brain) and the biker was close to taking over his hands to punch Frank out.

He never thought silence could be deafening, but now it was just smothering. Trying to get his poker face back and bluff Frank by staying calm wasn't going to happen. Neither was the rest of the lesson, he realized with a sinking in his gut. Despite the hands gripping him, he was able to turn his head enough to see that he lay his cards flat. "Sorry for wandering off." He could only mumble.

This was enough for Frank to loosen his hold on the sides of his head, and start gently teasing and tousling his hair (which apparently was becoming his way of saying all was forgiven). "I know you're still new to a lot of things, but you don't have to figure this out by yourself. I'm always here."

He bit back a response. His creator wasn't angry, so why risk it?

Throughout all this, he didn't dare try to look at Columbia. Her side of the counter had gone completely still.

Frank had quickly decided they should leave, saying that the surprise was set up on the projector. (So it was a movie, then. It must have been something special if they hadn't gone straight to the theater.) He risked a look over his shoulder going out the door. Columbia's side of the counter was totally bare. The cards and silverware were put away - there'd been no sound, he was sure of that - and she had slipped out while Frank had kept his attention.

Like she had never been there.

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

Some sad news from the Rocky Horror world: Meatloaf, our beloved Eddie, passed away on January 20, 2022. If you have a favorite Meatloaf song or album, put that sucker on and blast it.

Rest in peace, Meatloaf

1947 - 2022