FATR: The PG-13 rating comes in here for a mild sex scene. Again, it is chalk full of symbolism, the entire story is, really. Um... Not much to say, really, so lets just get on with chip chip number two.

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The wind howls and Otto is once more made aware of the chill beginning to set into his bones. It shakes him out of his reverie. Rosie, his dear sweet Rosie. What had happened that night? He had become so absorbed in his work he had forgotten their planned rendevous. She hadn't come to disturb him, she never did. There had been so many times when he had been working late, forgotten an appointment, and she had always been there for him. She is waiting for him at home, now, and he feels like the biggest asshole in the world for even considering the offer on that deadly little white square. His fist crushes it and he savagely turns the keys with his free hand.

I'm sorry. I'm coming home now.

The car wakes up and coughs in the frigid air. It grumbles in protest at being disturbed from its hibernation and goes back to sleep. No amount of encouragement from the keys can convince it to do other wise.

Stalled. Great.

Otto heaves a sigh and flops back in the seat. He buries his head in his hands and runs his fingers through his curly brown hair. Not only had it been unpredictable, but it had happened at the worst possible moment. This is the last thing he needs, especially on top of the inventor's equivalent of writer's block he has been suffering from. Inventor's block is what he likes to call it. Rain begins to sound on the roof, soft at first but quickly gathering force. His eyes drift out the front windshield as a young couple dash past, laughing, huddling together under a single umbrella. There is an impregnable aura of joy around them, even while they flee the icy daggers that slice the air around them. Somehow, the weather never even seems to touch them. Otto watches them fade into the downpour, disappearing into the safety of a building just before they become too obscure to make out.

Patter patter laughs the rain on the black top. Patter ping sings the rain on the roof...

Of his study. The windows behind him kept the storm at bay while he poured over his notes. He frowned and scrutinized the computer screen that he had been staring at for the last four or five hours. Something had gone wrong with the simulation, but he couldn't figure it out. He had been stuck on that one problem for the past several months, trying to figure out how to initiate the reaction. He had come so close so many times, but if a successful fusion reaction did take place, it would only last a second or two. If it was to become completely self sustaining, it would have to last longer than that. He laced his fingers behind his head and cracked his aching back. The tentacles on the octopus clock on his wall informed him that it was nearly four in the morning. Since Rosie's octopus joke had been spread around his work place, his colleagues had thought that would be a funny present, though the arms had not yet been made a public appearance. He really only had six arms, technically, or maybe four legs and four arms, because the bottom two were designed differently. Maybe if I sleep on it... drifted through his mind as he rose out of the chair.

He stepped lightly so as not to disturb his wife as he made his way to the room they shared, at least on the nights he didn't stay up until sunrise. Otto couldn't help stopping to admire his sleeping beauty. Her hair spilled out across the pillow, forming a halo around her head. One arm lay carelessly across her stomach, her hand still clutching her book. A smile played on Otto's lips as he eased the book out of her hand, slid the rose bookmark between its pages, and placed it on the night table. The angelic sleeper stirred and he froze, but she only rolled over. Otto let out his breath and tiptoed into the bathroom. What is missing? You're a genius, you should be able to figure this out. Tooth paste on the toothbrush, toothbrush in the mouth, spit in the sink... Otto splashed water on his face and straightened up. In the mirror he could see Rosie standing in the door.

"Hit a wall?" She asked.

"I've been stuck on the same problem for months. I ought to have cracked it by now."

Rosie draped her arms about his shoulders. "You're just tired. Even a genius like you needs some sleep."

Otto tangled his fingers in hers and allowed her to lead him to bed. He collapsed on the edge and she sat behind him, massaging his temples with her deft fingers. "If I don't get this in time for my meeting with Mr. Osborn, I won't get the grant."

"There are millions of people looking to fund your work. If Oscorp is dumb enough to pass you over, it's no one's loss but their own."

Otto grinned at her over his shoulder. "You know what always inspires me?" Before she could answer he had lunged at her. They struggled playfully together until he wound up on top of her. There was a long moment where they just stared into each others eyes, Otto with his forehead against hers. His eyes silently sought her permission, and her eyes returned it. Their lips met and their tongues entwined. Love, the sweetest taste of all. Their clothes were disappearing quickly. His soul mate was always beautiful to him. There was no one in the world more beautiful than his delicate rose. "I love you," he whispered into her neck. "So much."

Rosie's fingers ran through the silky brown curls on his head and traced his muscular back and shoulders. "I love you too," she breathed.

Otto ran his hands down her thighs, pulled her knees up on either side of his waist, and gave himself over to passion. It consumed him and he forgot his work, his deadlines, everything. All that existed or mattered was the lithe body moving beneath him and the soft gasps that reached his ears. When it was over, and he was past the afterglow, it would come flooding back afresh, but this time there would be something there he hadn't noticed before. His muse never failed him. How did that saying go? Behind every great man is a woman? One thing was for sure, he wouldn't have even dared to attempt the fusion generator if it hadn't been for Rosie.

Afterwards they lay together, spooning, basking in each others' warmth. "Are you feeling better?" She asked.

"Mhm," Otto sighed. Any time now it would all come back. He wished it wouldn't, but it was inevitable. Rosie drifted off to sleep in his protective arms, but sleep never came so easily for him. In his mind he went over and over the equations and formulas, seeking the source of his error. He couldn't find it. He'd tried light, heat, electricity, in combination with many materials, but to no avail. The answer didn't come to him now either. He sighed and closed his eyes. Another long day lay ahead of him. All well.