FATR: New note: Gr, they won't allow songfics all of a sudden? Not even disclaimed ones? Fine. I've removed the song lyrics. Look them up, though, because they fit perfectly with the story, and I wrote the story in sections to match the lyrics. Inconvenient... Ok, here's the epilogue, though it seems many of my original readers are no longer with me (yeah, you all know who you are). I know I haven't updated for a while (rpgs will eat your soul) but come on, have a little faith, huh? This fic right here is a songfic for November Rain by Guns and Roses. See the pun on the title? It is really a beautiful song. If you get a chance, take a look at it. This is a comparatively long chapter. That's probably mostly because of the song, though. Anyway, on with the chip chip, 'cause by now you know I own nothing.


Rosie makes her way down to Otto's office and gently cracks the door. There he lies, asleep amongst the diagrams and formulas scattered across his desk. She frowns slightly and bites her lip. Is it true? The suspicion had been gnawing at her for years, now, but some how she can't believe it. Her mouth opens, shuts, opens again, then shuts once more. How is she to broach the subject? Is now really the time? No. No, it isn't fair to wake him up like this and spring it on him, especially with the stress. Besides, she doesn't really know... She closes the door softly and leans against the wall beside it, deciding to let him sleep just a bit longer. Once he is awake and finished with breakfast she will talk to him.

She wanders back into the kitchen. Rosie pulls down a mug and fills it with water at the sink. Am I really inadequate somehow? The water is shut off and the mug is placed in the microwave. Beeps intrude upon the heavy silence as her finger moves over the buttons. As the machine hums to life she returns to the cabinets for a tea bag. I wish...

The phone rings.

Rosie pounces on it quickly. "Hello?"

"Rosie? I got your message. What's wrong?"

"Oh, Curt, I..." Rosie puts her hand to her forehead and leans against the counter. "I found... I mean, I'm only a little surprised, but... It hurts..."

"What did you find?"

"In Otto's pocket, while I was doing the laundry. He forgets to empty his pockets, so I always make sure I'm not washing anything important, you know?" She pushes off the counter with one hand and walks to the other end of the room to answer the beeping microwave. "I'm not exactly sure what it is, but it has the name of a sorority and an address..."

There is silence on the other end.

"Curt?"

"I'm here."

"And?"

"I honestly don't know what to tell you."

"Look, if you know something..." There is anger rising in her voice.

"Nothing is certain, you know that."

"Tell me." Her voice is calm and controlled, barely above a whisper.

"Okay... well, I really don't know for certain, but at that first lecture, there was this girl in the audience. After the lecture I found them together in my office. Not 'together,' just talking. Otto really didn't look like he had any intention of..."

"'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions...'"

"Sorry?"

"My mother used to say that. She was a... rather cynical woman." Rosie hears footsteps. "He's awake. I... I haven't decided what to do..."

"The most important part of a relationship is communication."

"Yeah... Look, I'm going to go. I'll let you know how it turns out."

"I sincerely hope it turns out well. Goodbye."

"Bye." Rosie hangs up and takes a sip of her tea.

"Who was that?" Otto asks as he takes down a mug.

"It was Curt. He just wanted to wish you luck. Not that you'll need it." She smiles. It feels so fake, and yet Otto doesn't seem to notice. "My big handsome genius." Rosie wraps her arms around his neck and stands on tiptoe to give him a peck on the lips. He holds her and returns the kiss. As she leans back to search his eyes, she sees no betrayal; none that is obvious, at any rate. She does see love, some kind of love. Of course he loves her, though. Why not? And she loves him. But...

"Is something troubling you?"

Rosie actually thinks about asking. It isn't springing it on him if he asks first, is it? But when she looks into his eyes and sees... "No," she lies. "I'm fine." She kisses him again before turning away. "So, what would you like for breakfast?"

"Oh, Rosie, you don't have to-"

"Don't be silly. It is your big day, isn't it?" She watches him expectantly. Something seems to flit across his face and he raises one of his hands slightly. Then it falls back by his side. His eyes flick down and to the right as he thinks.

"Pancakes," he answers.

"Then pancakes it is, my love."

What has gone wrong? Five years ago they had been so happy, so in love. Does his infidelity go back that far? Why? Oh, what on earth had possessed him to take that step? Rosie doesn't want to think that there is such a beast living inside the man she loves so dearly.

When breakfast is over, she goes to dress. As she is changing, she spies herself in the mirror. She bites her lip and takes in the sight. Things change so much so quickly. It seems like just yesterday her and Otto were entwined in a passionate embrace, fueled by the heat and desire of the youthful. Now she is in the fall of her life.

In the past five years, her and her lover have only embraced... eight times, and it had always been rather shallow in hindsight. Otto had acted the part so perfectly for the first three years. The approach of year four is when her suspicions had begun to prick up. Twice a year had dropped to once a year, for he had been 'too tired.' She hadn't asked back then, perhaps trusting him more than she should have, or perhaps not wanting to acknowledge the problem. He had told her the project had placed him under too much stress. It is ironic that he has started using the same excuse she had used the night of their fifteenth anniversary. Yes, things change. The summer of youth fades to the fall of age. She had known it would happen, but she hadn't expected it to happen so soon. She hadn't expected Otto to deal with it like... I can't be angry now. I can't stir things up so close to the demonstration.

Otto enters the room. Rosie keeps her back to him, turning quickly from the mirror to finish changing. For the first time since... her first time, she is embarrassed to be naked in front of him. She hides behind her hair, pulling her clothes on quickly. Then she turns to him, determined to act like everything is normal. She will play the part of the perfect, supportive wife, no matter what. After the demonstration is over, and they are alone, she can drop the facade. Then and only then will she inform him of her suspicions. This has to go well for the man she loves. She is disappointed, but she can't bring herself to hurt him or his chances for success. There is no point in picking a fight right before the most important event of his life.

She stands in front of him and straightens his light gray shirt. Her hands run over his shoulders and down his arms to smooth the sleeves. They make eye contact. "You look so handsome," she smiles. It's not a lie in any way, shape, or form. Otto really is quite handsome and charismatic, especially in when he's in his element. Well, such is her perception, and apparently the perception of young college... No, I can't think of that now. I mustn't think of that now. Besides, I went through a similar funk. Maybe he'll grow out of it. The sorority sluts may come and go, but this relationship is so much different, so much stronger.

"And you, my sweet Rose, look ravishing." Otto caresses her cheek and kisses her forehead.

She glows back. Don't lie, Otto. It only makes it worse.

As they make their way down to the lab, she wishes she can be as at ease as he appears. Her thoughts are in turmoil. She feels hot then cold at intervals. How can he be so calm? How can the lying... He never has time to talk to her anymore. Perhaps if the lines of communication had been more open, if he hadn't been spending so much time in the damn lab, things would have turned out differently. If she had known how he felt she would have made herself more available before his passion sent him elsewhere. Then again, it can be deeper than that. If it isn't deeper than that, she could have forgiven him his physical infidelities. Just as long as he still loves her. There's more to love than sex. It's the more part that one must finally return to, in the end. If she's his more, she might be able to forgive him.

Rosie can't help but feel like she had pushed him away somehow. No, she doesn't feel as young or as passionate as she used to, but if she had known he was would go to such extreme measures... Seriously, how can she compete with sorority girls? She remembers them from her days in college. They had been the goddesses of the campus, rich, elegant beauties in strappy shoes and halter tops. There had been little she, Rosie the plain, Rosie the drab, could have done to compete even then. She had thought she had beaten them by marrying the brilliant, successful Dr. Otto Octavius, but they had ultimately dragged him away, too. It is bitter irony, isn't it? They wouldn't have given him the time of day back then. Doesn't he remember that? Maybe he does, maybe that's why he had gone astray. Maybe he feels he needs to revel in his new found fame. Maybe he wants to parade his intellect and seniority around in front of the naive and inferior youths. That arrogant son-of-a...

She takes her place in the previously conceived location. He takes both of her hands in his and smiles lovingly. It's all she can do to keep from screaming, 'How can you smile at me like that? I know! I know what you did! How can you...'

"Kiss for luck?"

That's it, keep playing the part. Perfect. You're just perfect at everything, aren't you? But when faced with that love filled expression she can't make herself stay angry. Maybe it's only half acting, after all... They kiss. She wants it to feel fake so she can have an excuse to bring up all of her accusations now, but it just doesn't. It ticks her off and relieves her at the same time. The kiss lasts for a while, but is broken when one of the lab assistants whistles. Rosie blushes as they part. "Good luck."

He moves away from her, their hands remaining locked together until the last possible moment. She watches him lift the edge of a pristine, white tarp and double check the apparatus inside, mainly the little blue square at the top. It's the inhibitor chip. She knows that, and she knows its function. Also, she knows that, despite his outward cockiness, he does fear the possibility of being taken over by them and checks the chip first and foremost before donning the actuators. There had always been a sinister aura around the machine. It just feels evil to her. Otto laughs and assures her that it is incapable of any emotion, much less capable of being good or evil. The only evil it is capable of depends on the wearer. And doesn't she trust him? Though at times she can see his unease about them. More irony, isn't it? He claims all commands, good or bad, they get come solely from the wearer. But isn't there something dark in him, then, if he is consciously able of doing the things he has done? She knows he harbors a treasure trove of repressed negative energy.

Maybe she should leave him. Not a divorce, not yet. Perhaps she just needs to step back for a couple weeks or months, go stay with her mother, and let him work out all of his issues. Will that help? Or will it make things worse?

The people are filing into the room now, exhibiting the entire rainbow of responses to excitement. There are those who are silent, solemn, serious, faces drawn in tight lines. There are the nervous jabberers, too, and everything in between. One lady is twisting her ring on her finger.

Rosie's eyes fall to her own wedding ring, the most lasting symbol of the most sacred vow she had ever made. Somehow her beloved Otto doesn't see it quite the same way as she does. She finds herself wondering if he had ever left his ring on during any of his lascivious exploits. She also finds herself very seriously doubting it. Their bond can't mean so little to him that he would blatantly disregard their vows all together.

She listens to him tell his lame joke about the rubber band, chuckling despite herself. Aw, Otto, such a bright mind, and though his skills as a public speaker seem improved, his social skills still need tweaking.

Her mother often warned her of men's fleeting desires. They don't think with their brains, she had said. Don't let yourself be deceived because this one is an intellectual, Rose. There are no variations.

Her Otto? Her quiet, shy, sensitive Otto? A lecher? Rosie had laughed this off with the naivete of all young girls. She is wiser now. Why must wisdom only come with age? Yet she still honestly believes that he loves her with his heart, if not his body. And flesh is fleeting, isn't it? Though it hurts to think that she, his ever faithful wife, cannot give him everything he needs to keep him happy.

And what has he ever given her for all her faith and loyalty? What of the child she had asked him for, had dreamed of since her games with her dolls? Is a child really so much to ask for? Yes. It is when your husband is selfish and arrogant like Otto. It is when your husband cares more about his work and his machines, and his experiments. Experiments fail, love doesn't, or so she had thought. She could get pregnant just to spite him. She could go off the pill without his knowledge, like the women in soap operas did sometimes. Though it's too late for that now. In all actuality, she knows, she's kidding herself. Besides, she can never bring a child into a family that had split before it had ever begun. A baby is not and should never be an implement of spite.

Her heart leaps into her throat as the harness clamps around his waist. The image can't help but call to mind a science fiction movie she had seen once. It had been called Aliens, hadn't it? The way the harness clamps around his waist reminds her of the way the parasites had clamped onto the hosts' faces with their many legs. The spine unfurls like the tail of the metallic creature. Its movements always seem so lifelike. When the needles penetrate his flesh she winces, her stomach knotting up. He seems to be okay with it. However, she still hates watching him do that to himself. There's something disturbingly masochistic about it. The questions about the arms AI only serve to deepen her concern for his safety.

Years have flown by, yet she still worries about him. He violated her trust, yet the prospect of splitting up still shatters her very soul. She needs time alone to think on what course of action to take. Before she thinks on that, though, she must determine if her suspicions have any roots in reality. Rosie can't think, not with all this going on around her. The urge to slip off, some place nice and quiet, until the demonstration is completed prods the corner of her mind. No. Otto needs her here, to support him, right? Or maybe he should call in one of his perfect little sorority whores...

"Give me the blue light, Rosie."

Her thoughts are scattered by his command, another pun. This is wittier and more natural than his opening joke, however. She follows his instruction obediently, following him to the back of the room as his invention is dramatically unveiled. He is eating the attention up, though he is clearly nervous. He fiddles with some controls. The anxious look he casts her is enough to keep her there. He does need her. On some level, he does need her and love her. She offers him a reassuring smile.

Despite her supportive outward appearance, her insides are in tangles. It is a combination of anticipation and worry. Her fears aren't only for Otto and his success, but the uncertainty of their future, if they even have one. Most of that seems to hang on this moment. She isn't sure why, but this moment feels like the most important moment in history right now. It's silly, but true. The tritium is placed in the containment field where it fixes itself, suspended in the exact center. Her heart hangs there with it.

"Ladies and gentlemen... fasten your seat belts."

She detects the tense sigh in his voice. Rosie herself is rigid as a statue. The beams of light shoot out of the tip and base of each tower. The marble sized orb absorbs the golden light and a warm glow forms around it. She finds her heart heating and lifting in sync with the reactor. The sorority girls, Otto, even herself, she can blame them all. She can even blame Curt for pushing him into the lecture business in the first place, or for withholding that information for five years. Though it's not like Curt knew. He, like Rosie, had seen no reason not to trust Otto. It doesn't matter who is to blame, and she knows now that she can't ever hate her husband. Perhaps she is more foolish than she thought, but she is suddenly possessed by a feeling that they can work it out.

The moment is pregnant with possibility. The energy of it vibrates the air around her. The very atmosphere itself seems to crackle. It's almost as if the air has grown denser. For a moment she feels that she can't move an inch even if she tries. She wonders if anyone else can feel it? Feel the universe getting ready to change? Or maybe she's just too worked up over the affairs. Either way, she doesn't even dare to breath the thick, pulsing air. The heaviness builds until...

"Doctor, we have a successful fusion reaction."

Oh, thank God! Oh, Otto, everything will be fine now. You'll see! She hears the assistant speak, but doesn't comprehend his words. Her eyes are on Otto. Foolishly forgiving eyes? Maybe, but who cares? Love is blind, anyway.

"The power of the sun in the palm of my hand..."

SNAP!

Rosie feels it and hears it. The energy that had seemed to be holding her entire universe together shatters, collapsing into a swirling tornado of chaos. Her wide-eyed gaze travels the room and lands on the heavy metal light fixtures being drawn inexorably towards the miniature sun. The chaotic mood grips the observes as their necklaces and watches are sucked into the flaming mass. Rosie almost can't believe what she is seeing. It has to be a bad dream. It can't really be happening. But it is. The building is being yanked down around her ears. Yet Otto still stands at the controls, trying desperately to control the uncontrollable. That's what he's been doing all is life, isn't it? Trying to master what can't be mastered. Oh, Otto. Poor Otto.

"We have a containment breach!"

Rosie hears this over the hellish symphony of screams and crackling flames. An arc of fire bursts out of the force field. "Otto, come away!" Rosie screams, rushing towards him. She doesn't know exactly what she's going to do, but she knows she can't let him die. No, she can't let him slip through her fingers, especially without letting him know that everything is and will be okay. The flaming arch bites into the stone archway , sending fragments raining down almost on top of her. She screams and takes a step back. This will not deter her from getting to Otto, though. Nothing can. Nothing will.

A new sound joins the mayhem. There is an earth shattering groaning whine followed by a crack. Rosie turns horrified to the front windows just as the glass bursts out of the frames and flies towards her, driven by the wild energy.

(You can't save him. You won't save him. He must pay up now.)

Rosie screams, just barely having time to wonder if the voice is her imagination or not. Her screaming reflection flashes as the glass flips through the air. She fears those razor edges more than anything else in the universe right then. As if driven by an invisible hand, the glittering projectile takes aim for her throat. It rips through her flesh like scissors through tissue paper. She is terrified that it will hurt, but there's no time for her nerves to react. Her windpipe is sliced in two in a matter of milliseconds. She doesn't feel that either. All she notices is that her breath suddenly escapes her, and when she goes to draw more, she can't. She just can't. Plain and simple.

"Rosie!" Otto calls out, but he is too late. She collapses on the floor, a glass dagger protruding from her throat. Something inside him breaks, too, and that's the last thing the good, kind Otto knows.

FATR: New Note: There, I complied, if not grudgingly. Who complained about the songfics, anyway? All well, what's done is done. Maybe after you give me some feed back on this you can go give me feed back on the latest installment of "Cat and Half," hm? Mebbe? Even flames are welcomed with open arms on chip chip 9 of "Cat" because I know I've taken the whole thing in a rather odd direction. If you have a flame itch you need to scratch, go take a look.