Note: In "Bender's Big Score", the spelling of the future's pronunciation of "ask" was established as "ax". But if you don't mind, I'm going to go ahead and continue using "aks". Thanks for understanding.

Down for the Count, first part: Shade

by Deb H

Friday 03 August 3004

I turned off the shower and stepped gingerly, almost unwillingly, out.

I was still a little disbelieving that I'd allowed myself to be talked into this. I don't ever do things like this.

And I definitely don't let people do things for me. Because then I'm at their mercy. When a guy picks me up for a date, that means everything is up to him. He decides where we're going for dinner, which movie theatre we're going to, which ape fight we're seeing.

Sometimes, if I really want to do something, like a sporting event or a night out, I'll just do it on my own. And if it requires some travel, well, I've got the keys to one of the fastest ships the Universe has ever known. The Professor never knows, and Hermes never cares.

Well, he does, but he never does anything about it.

I intimidate him too much for that. And if that ever doesn't work, Bender has plenty of shit on him.

But why was I doing this tonight?

I thought about it some more as I put on my bra and underpants, gathered my hair into the scrunchie, and blow dried it.

Then there was a buzz.

I put down the earrings and went out to the intercom by the front door.

"Yeah?" I aksed.

"Hey," came the response. "It's me."

"Hey. I'll be a few more minutes. Want to come up?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

I hit the button and let her in.

I spent a couple of minutes on the earrings until I had them just right. Then, back to my bedroom, where my dress and shoes were waiting.

Then the front door slid open, and then shut. "Hey," I called out. "Just another couple of minutes."

"Okay."

"Where did you say we were going to dinner?"

"Um... Pasiphaë," she answered.

"What's that?"

"It's a moon of Jupiter. It's supposed to have really good crab."

"Really? I hate crab."

"Oh," she said. "Awkward."

"Sorry. That was awful bitchy. I mean, it's really nice of you to take care of everything like this."

"Not a problem," she answered. "Hey, um, I'm gonna put these flowers in water. That okay?"

"Flowers?" I aksed as my hands stopped working. The dress fell around my waist. "This wasn't... wasn't, like, a date or anything, was it?"

"Yeah. No, it's not. I just... I thought maybe you could use some... I thought this place needed a little improvement. Or something."

"Oh."

I gathered the straps together and began to lift the dress up again.

My bra was already starting to feel weird, as though my breasts were falling out of it.

I loved this halter top dress. But I hate strapless bras.

That's why I'd never worn the dress.

And so when I was invited out for tonight, I thought I finally had a chance to wear it.

I was second guessing myself now, though.

But then I laughed at myself.

Last week I flew us home through a mine field with a flotilla of fifty enemy ships behind us, and another fifty waiting at the other end of the field.

And I was scared of a dress?

Just fucking bite the blaster, I thought.

So I put the thing on, and with the touch of a contact, the straps sealed themselves at the back of my neck.

Once I had the spool heels on, I took a glance at myself in the mirror.

This was not what I normally wore.

In fact, what I had on now was diametrically opposed to that in the multidimensional space of possible outfits. It was a yellow-gold dress that was cut just above my knee. There was a slit on one side that exposed my thigh, with a brooch at its top. The brooch had a blue gem in it, like a sapphire, but I've never seen any other sapphires that dark of a blue.

The straps of the halter top had a smaller version of the shoulder hoops that were on every article of clothing these days. The inside of each strap spread out to form these sort of flaps that covered each breast, clasped together by a smaller version of the brooch on my leg. The cut between the two flaps showed off my cleavage.

What was really different for me was the earrings. There were actually four of them in each ear, right next to each other. Each had a little blue stone, just like the ones in the brooch and the clasp, dangling on a thin silver chain. They were all different lengths, so as I turned my head, they would sway back and forth at different rates. It was like a little constellation hanging from each ear.

I wished I'd had time to do something different with my hair. This was going to have to do.

As I came out into the living room, she was at the kitchenette fussing with the flowers, her back to me. She'd filled up a glass and put the flowers in it, but as soon as she put the glass down again, half of the flowers slipped out of it and fell onto the counter. The stems must have been too long.

She tried again, and this time they stayed put. She stepped back, holding her hands out as though ready to catch the flowers if they fell again.

"That's... that's a lot of flowers," I said.

She turned around.

"Leela, you look... you look fantastic," Amy said.

I stopped and stared at her for a moment.

Finally, I said, "You really think so?"

Her saying that had really moved me.

When was the last time she had given me a compliment about my looks?

When was the last time she had given me any sort of compliment?

"Of course I do," she said. "I mean, clothes send a message. The stuff you always wear, the stretch pants and the boots, that sends a message. That message is, 'I may be good at what I do, but dressing for success is one of many lessons about people that I never bothered to learn.'"

Oh, that's right. There's one sort of compliment she gives me all the time.

Backhanded.

"But this... this is a completely different message," she went on.

Despite myself, I aksed her, "What message does this send?"

"Oh, that's easy. This message is, 'You wish you could have this body.'"

I was really at a loss for words now.

In the end, I looked at the flowers and said, "I still think those are a bit much, though."

"All I could find was that glass. I think there's a good chance they're gonna fall out by the time we get back."

"That's okay," I said. "They look great. Should we go?"

"Yeah, we should," she replied. "It's gonna take us forever to get to where I parked."

"Yeah, it's hard to park around here."

She held out a hand.

I sighed, my shoulders dropping, but I was still smiling.

I took her arm, and she led me out the door.

It was dark.

Dark and noisy.

I couldn't tell what kind of noises they were. It was like I was underwater. Or maybe I was on land and the noises were underwater.

Then I started to feel something in my legs. Like they were moving around.

Or like someone was moving them around for me.

"Why don't you just try it?"

"I've never had crab that I liked. Never. Besides, doesn't that superamoeba salad sound good?"

"You can get superamoeba salad anywhere. You come to Pasiphaë for the crab."

"Why the hell is that, anyway? How can their crab be better than Earth's when they're five times as far from the Sun?"

"Don't crabs like cold water?"

"Not that cold."

"Come on, just try it. This crab's different. It's not like Earth crab at all."

"Are you having it?"

"Pl'uh! Of course!"

"Well, why don't I try some of yours? Then when I don't like it, I can still have my salad."

"Ugh. Fine."

Now it was quiet.

It was still dark, but at least it was quiet.

My legs felt different, as though there was something in them, or on them.

I laid there for a while. It felt like it might have been a couple of hours.

I thought about Fry. Then I thought about Leela.

Then I thought about ice cream.

"Well?"

No answer.

"Come on, Leela. What do you think?"

"This isn't crab."

"What? What the hell are you talking about? Of course it's crab, and it's damn good crab."

"I'll agree on the 'damn good' part. But this isn't any crab I've ever tasted."

"See? I told you. It's way the hell better than Earth crab."

"It blows Earth crab out of the fucking water, yeah."

She giggled.

"You were right. It's too bad the salad's gonna be a letdown now."

"It doesn't have to be."

"What?"

She dumped her plate into my salad. Then she mixed it all up, as best she could, with her fork.

"Crab and superamoeba salad?" I aksed.

She jabbed a bit of crab and lettuce onto her fork and took a bite.

Shaking my head, I followed suit.

I leaned over and scratched my arm.

"Oh. Hey," I heard. "You're up."

"Fry?" I aksed. "That you?"

"Yeah. How you feeling?"

"Same," I said.

"As what?"

"You know."

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment, but then he said, "Anyway... you've been out a while. They were... they've been working on you."

"Mmm."

"Amy?"

"Mmm?"

I could feel his hands wrapping around my hand.

"It's good to see you again."

"Mmm. Good to see you," I murmured.

Nothing happened for a minute.

"Um... Amy?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you..."

"What?"

"Did you just... um... wet the bed?"

"Hm? Bed?"

I moved my free hand.

There did seem to be some sort of soft surface under me.

That was a nice change of pace.

Fry let go of my hand.

Then I could feel his arm beneath my shoulders.

"Sit up?" he aksed me.

"Mmm?"

I leaned forward as best I could.

It must have worked. My upper body seemed to be more vertical now.

Then my back came to rest against something soft behind me.

Something rustled in front of me, and I could feel my legs being moved aside.

"No big deal," Fry said, his voice coming from somewhere near my legs.

"Fry?"

"Yeah?"

"Where...?"

"Where are we?"

"Yeah."

"In the hospital," he said.

"Hospital?" I aksed.

"Yeah. After Bender got you yesterday, they took you here."

"Wait," I said. "Does that mean... does that mean I'm alive?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

He took my hand again.

"I know," he said. "I can hardly believe it. I... I thought you were gone. We were looking the whole time. I thought..."

I heard a sniffle.

"Well, after the first couple of days, I figured we were just looking for a body. I didn't think there was any way you could last that long. I mean, the way that –"

"Fry?"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Can I aks you for a favour?"

"Yeah," he said. "Of course. Anything."

"Turn the lights on?"

There was silence.

"Amy..." he said, "the lights are on."

"Oh."

I heard a little ping noise.

"Wait," he said. "Can you... what can you see? Can you see anything?"

"No," I said. "Can't see anything."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I don't fucking know."

I heard a series of clompy sounds, like someone running.

"Hey," Fry said. "She's up."

"Amy? How do you feel?"

"Clara?" I aksed.

"Yeah. It's me."

Clara was going to be the head nurse at the clinic that we were building. She had gray skin, a pair of pig ears, and a big dorsal fin.

"She can't see," Fry said.

"Really?" Clara aksed. "You can't see anything, Amy?"

"Nope."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she aksed.

"I can't see," I repeated.

"What can you see?"

"Nobody's listening," I sighed.

"No, look," Clara said.

"I can't."

"No, just... just listen," she continued. "What do you see, Amy? Is everything black? Or white? Do you see spots or anything?"

"No," I said. "It's all just black."

"Okay," she said.

"It's hibernation sickness," Fry said. "Right? Like Han Solo?"

"She wasn't hibernating. Just anæsthetised."

"Then it's anæsthetisation sickness."

"Looks like you had a little accident too. C'mere. Let's get you cleaned up."

Now Clara's arm – it must have been Clara's this time – was sliding in under my shoulders.

"What happened?" I heard Fry say. "Did something happen to her... um..."

Clara answered, "No, I don't think so. Probably just because she was stuck down there so long. She just got used to, you know, going whenever she wanted."

She turned me to the right, and my feet slid off the bed and onto the cold floor.

I drew in a sharp breath.

"Are your feet working?" Clara aksed. "Want to try using your feet again?"

"Feet?" I aksed. "Yeah."

I could feel Fry's arm again, this time coming in from the other side.

"Ready?" Clara aksed.

I stood up.

It was probably them doing most of the work, actually.