-1She woke in a dark room, nearly devoid of light altogether. There was no sound in the darkness, no hint that anything anywhere nearby was alive. She hugged her knees close to her chest, squeezed her eyes tight. She didn't want to see anything, or hear anything. Not until she had everything sorted out.

The shadowy memories of the last day haunted her, tortured her, until she was no longer sure who or what she was. She had no idea how long she stayed in the darkness, but it was too long. There were moments when the emotional pain became physical, moments when physical pain became emotional, and moments when both emotional and physical pain assaulted her until she thought she'd cry blood if she cried anymore.

Then one night, when she was sure she'd been trapped in the darkness for centuries, a voice spoke to her.

"Columbia."

Unable to do anything else, she replied, "Yes, master?"

"No," the voice murmured. "I am not your master. You mustn't think it. You are not like Riff Raff and Magenta. You are not a servant."

"Then…what am I?" she ventured.

"Don't you remember the moon-drenched shores of Transsexual? Don't you remember clinging to me in the moonlight?"

She thought for a moment before responding, "Yes…I remember." And to her amazement, she did remember…her long blond hair waving in the gentle breeze as she pressed her lips to his… She raised a hand to her head, intent on running her fingers through her hair—and she was shocked to find that her hair was short, cut to a length above her ears and almost buzzed in the back.

"My hair…"

"Yes, Columbia. You asked for it to be cut. Don't you remember?"

Tears sprang into her eyes. "No, Frankie…I don't remember…"

"There, there," the voice soothed. "It was a bad fall, after all. You hit your head rather hard. I don't expect you to remember much right now. You just lay there and be quiet, and you concentrate on getting well."

Columbia sighed. "Frankie…what happened? How did I hit my head? Tell me…"

Frank sighed as well. "Columbia…you were looking at something you weren't supposed to see, and I came in and startled you, and you fell, and hit your head."

"Why doesn't my head ache?"

"You're on rather powerful painkillers, love. I wouldn't want my favorite groupie to go mad with pain."

"Groupie?"

If she could have seen him, he'd probably have been smiling. "Oh, yes, Columbia. Surely you remember?"

Memories drifted sluggishly into her mind, memories of following a tall man dressed in heels, fishnets, and a corset, following him along a moonlit path into a dark forest where the light of the moon filtered through the leaves and created a silver glow on the forest floor. She reached for his arm and he turned, smiling at her, raising a finger to his lips and beckoning for her to come close.

The memory continued. He pulled her in, wrapped his arms around her, pressed his lips to hers. She tasted his lipstick, licked his lips, ran her fingers through his curls, down the line of his jaw, his neck, his chest.

There the memory ended in shadow, with her clinging tightly to him as they lay on the soft carpet of velvet leaves, shaken from the trees for that purpose and that purpose alone.

"Frankie…" she whispered his name now, in the present, still relishing the memory. Without warning she felt him grab her wrist. She gasped at the sudden sensation.

"What do you remember, Columbia?"

"The forest…" she murmured.

She felt his breath on her face, his nose brushed hers, his lips touched hers for a brief moment and she could feel his smile. "Good. I'm glad you're beginning to remember more."

"What did I see?"

"Why, darling, it's a surprise. You wouldn't want to ruin it, would you? Please tell me you don't want to ruin my little surprise."

Columbia pouted, the way she knew she used to back on Transsexual. "Oh, please, Frankie? For me? I promise not to tell Riff Raff and Magenta." The names came easily to her lips now. "What does your lab look like, Frankie?"

His hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position. She thought she could make out the features of his made-up face if she looked closely. "Do you really want to see my laboratory, Columbia?" he asked.

She smiled in return and giggled. "Oh, please. I promise I won't spoil the surprise. I promise."

He chuckled and hugged her tightly. She squealed with joy and buried her face in his shoulder, the way she remembered doing. On impulse, she glanced up into his eyes then grinned and bit his neck. He gasped and his fingers tightened on her shoulders. "Columbia…what do you think you're doing?"

She giggled again. "Don't you like it?"

He pushed her back gently, not unkindly, and kissed her nose lightly. "Come with me, darling, and I'll show you the lab." She eagerly followed him through the darkness into a dank, musty corridor, up a flight of stairs, and finally into a small laboratory. The walls were a dirty white, stained yellow in places.

Frank sneered at the walls and shook his head. "We shall have to paint the lab, darling. You and I. What color do you think would be best?"

Columbia shivered. The lab was cold. All she wore was a thin pajama set. "I don't know, Frankie. Whatever you want, I guess. I mean…it's your lab."

He regarded her for a moment before replying. "You don't like it, do you?"

She shrugged. "It's okay."

His lips tightened as he tried to hold back the tirade. "Okay." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and turned around to face her. "Okay." A muscle in his face twitched. "Okay. It's okay?"

Columbia shrank back. "I meant…it's nice, Frankie, it really is."

He straightened and adjusted his corset. "Of course it's nice. I knew you'd appreciate it. That's the only reason I brought you up."

"Frankie…" she said hesitantly. "I'm cold."

He stared at her for a moment. "Oh. What was I thinking? Of course. The freezer. I do apologize, darling. Here, you go and get Magenta to find you a blanket, and then we'll talk about a room for you while we're eating, okay? That's a good girl." He nudged her in the direction of the elevator. "And why don't you try to find something a little more…attractive?"