Disclaimer: Rocky Horror is the property of Richard O'Brien and 20th Century Fox. Same goes for Shock Treatment; I just used the parents' names from it because it's easier and more canon-friendly to not diverge.

It's been a while between postings, and I'm sad to say it may be longer till the next one. The sudden surge in schoolwork and my new job have spelled utter destruction for my free time. Thanks for the kind reviews.

Short chapter this time, but it's either that or have one ungodly long chapter and have it take forever to get it posted. I'll try to get the rest of it written up by Halloween. I can't believe I've been working on this fic for a whole year now!

While Brad is in his closet with Janet, Riff-Raff and Magenta are in the living room. Riff beckons his sister over to him with an unreadable expression. Magenta bites her lip as she looks over his shoulder at the address book he has propped open, his finger on a name. They exchange looks of trepidation and simultaneously take a deep, steadying breath. Magenta threads her fingers through her brother's, sharing a reassuring gesture with him.

"She von't know us. Our own mother von't know us."

"Janus was able to remember little things, even before we…refreshed her memory. She just needed a good shock to snap her out of it."

"Vhat if she doesn't vant to remember?"

"I'll take care of it, trust me. We have to try."

"I haven't even thought of her as alive in so long. Vill you talk to her? Or maybe it vould be better if Janus explained."

"I'd thought you would; it would help if she heard your voice. After all, you never…assimilated," Riff practically purrs, tracing his sister's bottom lip significantly. "You'll do well enough, I'm sure."

"You're used to talking to strangers; I've spent the last 10 years skulking in dark corners, trying not to be seen."

Riff's lips curl up in a leering smile, "I'd say that when visitors did arrive, dealing with them was a team effort." Magenta grins back, almost maliciously. "You always loved to play 'Frighten the Earthlings'. Just don't scare this one."

With a sudden burst of determination, Magenta fluidly grabs the address book out of Riff's hands and stalks purposefully to the telephone. When a backward glance provokes a nod of approval, she picks up the headset and haltingly turns the rotary dial in the right sequence to ring up the woman who calls herself Emily Weiss.

Ring, ring…

A man's voice answers, "Hello?"

Resisting the urge to hang up immediately, Magenta has to rethink her end of the conversation. "Hello. I vant to speak vith Mrs. Veiss," she states through a forced calm.

"Who is this?" Harry Weiss demands, drawing his wife's attention. She looks up at him curiously and makes a deliberate effort to listen in further.

"Please, it is…imperative that I speak vith her.

"Where the hell did you get that accent, Transylvania?"

Shrugging to herself, Magenta answers, "Yes, actually."

Harry scowls at the phone, annoyed at this strange caller. "Oh, really? Which part?" He asks condescendingly.

Missing the irony, she illuminates further, "Transexual, Transylvania."

"Transexual, Transylvania??" Harry blurts back, disgusted. In the next room, Emily jumps in her seat with an involuntary shudder and stares, unseeing, straight ahead of her.

"Please, is your vife there? I must speak vith her. It's taken so long to find her. She changed her name since I knew her; she used to be called Azelma McKinley. Do you know that name?"

"Azelma?" Harry repeats, now at a loss for how to handle the situation.

Emily Weiss, Azelma McKinley, stands shakily, clutching blindly at the wall. Hazy images of another time, another place, swim towards the front of her mind; a vague memory of the man who called her by that name causes a painful, bittersweet pang of emotion. Mystified, she whispers, "Rolf…"

"Tell her it's Magenta; tell her ve're all right. Please? Tell her all three of us are."

By now, Mrs. Weiss is in the kitchen with her husband. She plucks the receiver from his hand, both of them looking equally puzzled.

"She says her name is Magenta," he mutters through a confused daze. "She wanted me to tell you all three of them are safe."

Emily sighs, "Oh, God…," looking sick and faint. She places the phone to her ear and hesitatingly begins. "Hello?"

Magenta's excitement at her success is too much to contain, and heedlessly she blurts out, "Mother?!"

"Uh…" Emily falters. "Why…did you…call me that?"

"It's who you are, believe me. I can explain everything."

"Listen, maybe it would be better for us to do this face to face. Where are you?"

"Is this line clear? I don't vant someone else listening in."

Emily fumbles for an answer while at the other end, Brad enters the room.

"Magenta, what are you doing with that? The phone isn't a toy." He wrests it from her grasp. "Hello? Anyone there?"

"Brad??" Emily gasps.

"Mrs. Weiss, hi! Oh…" he looks at Magenta, fidgeting nervously in her agitation, "I think maybe you'd better come over. There's a lot we have to talk about."

"Yes…yes, I think you're right. I'll be right over."