Rocky Horror does not belong to me, it belongs to Richard O'Brien.

Hi! It's been a while, hasn't it?

Sorry for the wait (again); the short version is I struggled with motivation during July and August, then planned to finish this in September, only to be invited to a job interview at the end of the month which included giving a presentation, so guess what I focused my time and energy on last month?

This one's another experiment with POVs, except this time, I'm focusing solely on Columbia's POV: Columbia. Let's see how it works, shall we?

All I can say is…this made sense in my head. As far as tenuous connections to the themes go, this one's probably the biggest stretch so far.

Anyway, enjoy!

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"Was there any reason you made a mess of the library?"

That's what Riff Raff said to her the minute she set foot in the kitchen. She had traipsed downstairs to see what was happening for breakfast. No sign of Frank and Rocky, which likely meant they were still asleep (or rather, Frank was still asleep and keeping Rocky with him). Various containers of meat sat on the counter, a sign Magenta was busy feeding the dogs.

So that meant she was alone with the handyman, and she hadn't even had her coffee yet.

Her throat tightened as she headed for the coffee pot. It wasn't that she was afraid of Riff Raff. He just…didn't hide his frustration very well.

When he wasn't mad about being away from Transylvania, he was mad about having to work for Frank.

When he wasn't mad about that, he was mad at Rocky's very existence.

When he wasn't mad about that, he'd find something else to get mad at, and sometimes, that was her. He usually tolerated her, for Magenta's sake, but in this case, she'd given him a pretty good excuse not to.

"Sorry about that." She waited until she had her coffee made up and took a few huge sips (thankfully, the coffee wasn't scalding) before looking him in the eye, his green glasses on the edge of his nose. "We didn't mean to, and we were going to put them back-" in all the wrong places, the little voice at the back of her mind teased. She acted like she didn't hear it as she continued - "but Frank showed up before we could."

"That leads to my next question. Why were you and Rocky in the library?" Her first instinct was to be insulted - she knew he didn't think that highly of either of them - but she forced herself to stay calm and shrug. "Neither of us knew what 'Sword of Damocles' meant, so we decided to check it out." Her eyes didn't leave his, daring him to make a smart remark (if not about her, then about Rocky not knowing anything).

All he had to respond with was a sigh and a shake of his head. "There is a catalog, you know. I created it myself."

Was she going to say she barely used the library - any library, really - so how was she supposed to know that?

Of course not. Relieved he hadn't flown off the handle, she meekly nodded and said, "Thanks for letting me know."

Magenta returned from the dogs, stopping only to put containers back in the fridge and going under the sink for a bucket and bottle of cleaner before leaving again. Riff Raff sighed, putting his empty coffee cup down. "I suppose now's as good a time as any to begin."

"Begin what?" She didn't mean to say that out loud; when Riff Raff spoke, it usually wasn't to start a conversation.

Fittingly, his response was to unfold a piece of paper from his pocket and jab it under her nose. Frank's handwriting nearly filled the page with line after line of tasks: the usual things like dusting, shoveling snow, and repairing costumes; and then there were entire lines she barely understood, which probably had stuff only Transylvanians would understand.

"And that doesn't include finding the time to reshelve the library," he muttered.

A flash of guilt sprang up in her. She didn't mean to leave the library all messed up (and, hopefully, Rocky didn't either). Even if Riff understood getting interrupted by Frank, that didn't mean much.

Her guilt gave way to a flash of inspiration.

"What if I did the library for you?"

"What?"

Her confidence was building as she grabbed a muffin off a nearby dish. "Sure! You said you made a whole catalog for it. I bet I can figure it out." She couldn't believe how cheerful she sounded at volunteering to spend her day organizing books she'd never read (except for the occasional cheap paperback).

Riff Raff looked like he was still trying to process what she said, which she took as her cue to get to work before he could either refuse or make one of his thinly veiled insults. Stuffing the muffin in her mouth and downing the rest of her coffee, she escaped to the hall.

She was still riding high on her idea when she bumped into Rocky at the bottom of the stairs. "Morning!" She beamed, the coffee and sugar giving her mood an extra boost.

"Hi!" He grinned back with an equally bright smile.

"We gotta stop meeting like this." And the good mood was gone. This wasn't some cheesy rom-com, and they sure as hell weren't Doris Day and Rock Hudson.

If Rocky thought that, he didn't show it, so she decided the best thing to do was say something else, which brought her to the crazy idea she could already feel forming. "You wanna help me with something?"

"Sure," he grinned, "that sounds great."

He fell into step beside her - Why did his legs seem longer than hers? There wasn't that much of a height difference. - before she realized something else: if he had just come down the stairs, that meant he was probably headed for the kitchen.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Yeah, Frank and I had breakfast upstairs."

At least he's eaten, she thought, relieved to know where Frank was (for now, anyway). If any higher beings were listening, she sent up a simple request for no interruptions this time.

"So, what are we doing?"

Oh yeah, she probably should have told him first.

"You up for spending a day in the library?"

"Okay. Are we going to look for 'Sword of Damocles' in other books?"

"Not quite. Remember how we left it last time?"

His face went blank - either because his memory wasn't that great, or he was trying to remember beyond whatever Frank did to him after she left - until he eventually shrugged and said a weak "Kind of."

No matter, she already had her explanation ready. "Well, I figured that since we left it like that, we could put everything back to the way it was. Riff Raff said he has a whole system in place, so once we figure that out-"

She'd gone a few steps before she realized Rocky wasn't beside her anymore. Turning around, she saw him rooted to the spot, a look of what she could only call "panicked terror" on his face.

"You mean he's-" His voice shook as he struggled to say something else, and it hit her that since Riff wasn't exactly good at hiding his feelings, Rocky must have seen those frustrations before, especially if he ever crossed the handyman's path. If that was his reaction upon hearing the guy's name…

She immediately pulled her lips up, hoping her smile didn't scare him even more. "He's not mad at us," hopefully, "he told me earlier he has a lot of work to do today, and I wanted to help him. Running into you was just luck."

At first, Rocky looked like he didn't believe her, and upon hearing herself, she wasn't sure if she believed it either. She wouldn't blame him if he suddenly realized he had something better to do.

"Okay." He nodded the short, quick nods of someone who didn't want to agree, but also couldn't think of a reason not to.

They both kept quiet for the rest of their trek, the only sound of the squeak of the library doors being opened. She hadn't been in the library since that night, but it looked about the same: books either piled on every surface or scattered along the shelves, decorations rearranged to make room, and furniture pushed aside for more floor space.

And it was at that moment she realized she had no idea of how she wanted to do this. She'd said she could figure out Riff Raff's catalog to reassure him, but she didn't even know it existed until today. That was nothing to say of how she and Rocky were going to work together, thanks to not taking into account the fact he couldn't read (maybe).

"Now what?" His voice wasn't annoyed or impatient, but she had a feeling he didn't have any ideas and was relying on her to plan this out. Well, if that's what was expected of her, that's what she would do, and she refused to let "I don't know" come out of her mouth.

She stepped into the room, surveying the disarray as slowly as she could to give herself time to run over what little she had in her mind.

Since Riff Raff said there was a catalog, she tried to remember using a library catalog before. There was the school library, where she could always feel the librarian's eyes glaring at her back. There was the Denton library, where she tried to ignore the whispers of people browsing the shelves.

Okay, she didn't have the best experience with libraries, but the same visual kept coming to mind.

She headed for the windows, pulling the curtains aside. The ensuing light that came through was a pale gray, courtesy of the heavy clouds, but it still made the room bright enough to work with.

"Now we need to find the card catalog," she said, "which means looking for a bunch of little drawers."

Rocky nodded, stepping further into the library and up to one of the shelves. As she turned to a shelf of her own, it hit her that this was only his second time in this room, and the fact that he trusted her - no, not "trusted," but by now, he was at least comfortable enough being alone with her and willing enough to go along with this barely-thought-out project.

One thing she had learned from living with scientists was that drawers were everywhere, so finding the ones that were all bunched together took more effort than she expected. (For that matter, how did she even know to look for a bunch of little drawers? With her luck, it would probably turn out to be a panel marked with some alien language she didn't think existed.)

Her thoughts kept stealing her attention so much that it took some time to realize she was staring at a little drawer marked 000.1A - 003.2D. Hoping against hope, she pulled the drawer open, revealing a neat line of little cards. She took out the first card, and somehow, she wasn't surprised to discover it looked exactly like the cards from an Earth library (albeit with a lightning bolt stamped in the corner).

"Found it!" she called, not believing her luck, as he came over to join her as she opened more drawers. The contents all appeared the same until she reached a drawer only half-full. Wedged into the space behind the cards was a long, folded piece of paper. She reached for it, quickly noticing the paper was wedged in enough to require two hands.

One pleading look at Rocky was enough for him to grab the drawer himself, and she successfully pulled the paper free. Unfolding it showed a detailed sketch of the shelves, full of squares marked with the same numbers and letters as the drawers.

"I think these can tell us where everything is supposed to go," she said. "All that's left now is to match the books to the cards."

"Okay." The hint of wariness stood out in his voice, and she wanted to kick herself (again) for not having a plan.

She attempted a reassuring smile as she said, "Don't worry, we'll figure something out." What was her "something" going to be this time?

Maybe she should find the books and he could shelve them.

No, that wouldn't be fair. She'd be doing half the work, and he'd just be standing there.

After all, this wasn't exactly like looking through all the books for a certain picture.

"Wait a minute," she said, amazed at how fast this new idea was forming, "maybe there's a way to do this without having to read anything."

"Really?"

She plucked the front card from the first drawer and grabbed a book off the top of the nearest pile before holding them both out to Rocky. "Look at these."

He did so, letting his eyes slowly wander over the cover before scrunching them up to figure out the typing on the card. "What about them?"

"I know reading is…up in the air for you," - was there a better way to put that? If there was, it wasn't coming to her - "but I think there's a way around that. Remember how we looked for the Sword of Damocles painting?"

He nodded. "Are we going to do the same thing?"

"Something like it, if this idea works." She laid the book on the table and opened it, and, yup, penciled inside the cover was the same number as the card. (She vaguely remembered that number had a name, but she could try to remember it later.) "If we look at these like pictures, instead of numbers and letters," she said, tapping them with a finger, "we just have to find the ones that match."

It occurred to her this actually sounded pretty patronizing, and an apology was on the tip of her tongue, but the slowly-growing look on his face made her pause. He looked intrigued, and maybe even excited, if the light in his eyes was any sign.

"Like looking for a picture of a sword until we found one?"

"Exactly!" She didn't even realize she'd started smiling until he smiled back, his eyes bright and his voice confident as he said, "Then let's do it!"

Holy shit, did she just have a great idea? Did she just motivate someone? When was the last time that happened?

They started out slowly, checking and double-checking each card - placed back in the drawer sideways afterward - before putting the appropriate books in a pile on a cleared table, planning to start shelving as soon as they finished the first drawer.

She tried not to get ahead of Rocky, waiting until he finished finding a book before starting on her next card; if she came up with this idea to help him, she wasn't about to remind him who could read between the two of them.

For a while, the only sounds were books opening and closing, and the quick rustles of paper as the next card was pulled from the drawer. By the time she noticed this, they'd fallen into an easy rhythm, and the first drawer of cards was nearly finished, which meant it'd be time to start shelving soon.

And it was just a little too quiet for that.

"So," she said, trying to sound casual as she flipped the cards back to their original arrangement and shut the drawer, "what did you think of Hollywood?"

He looked up from the pile he'd just placed his last book on top of, clearly not expecting a conversation to start out of nowhere.

She was ready to backtrack and find a better topic to ease into conversation with when he said, "I didn't know what to expect, but I really liked it."

She had to agree, and she said so as they checked the layout sketch and started shelving that first pile.

On the whole, not a bad trip (even if the collar-necklace was currently burning a hole in a bottom drawer, waiting for the next time Frank expected her to wear it).

From there, conversation about the trip continued to pour out of them, first about the Hollywood sign and the incredible view, then the Emerald Peacock and the incredible food, and then to the movie; which parts made them laugh hardest, how gorgeous Madeline Kahn was, and how they wished more movies ended with giant pie fights across studio lots.

During all this, they somehow managed to adjust their rhythm so that Rocky worked on the higher shelves while she took the lower ones.

"And the Chinese Theatre was incredible," Rocky was on a roll, his voice buoyant as he shelved. "Frank even said-"

She looked up at the sudden quiet, and saw Rocky's face, specifically how he was doing his best to clamp his lips shut. The familiar feeling of shutting-up-before-it-was-too-late.

What brought this on? Everything was fine, right? Sure, he mentioned Frank, but the alien scientist wasn't exactly running in at his Creature's call. Frank even said what?

No, she knew what.

"Did he say the Chinese Theater was nicer than the one here?"

Rocky looked at her, amazed. "Yeah."

"Did he tell you not to tell anyone else?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Because that's what he said when he took Eddie and me to see Pink Floyd at Carnegie Hall."

His face didn't exactly fall, but her heart still sank along with it. Of course, she'd have to remind him again how little Frank cared.

They finished shelving in silence. A couple of other topics came to mind, but one look at his face as he kept his eyes locked onto the shelf in front of him, and her throat instantly closed up. This continued into getting the cards from the second drawer and putting those books into a pile, and then she couldn't take it anymore.

"How about some music?" She asked, hoping her desperation to end the silence didn't come across in her voice. "I'll get my radio."

"Sure," he mumbled, eyes focused on the top book.

She almost didn't want to leave him alone, her need to fix her mistake nearly overriding her need to lift the mood, but she told herself she'd be quick. A trip up the stairs - taking two or three at a time - grabbing her radio off her dresser and making her way back down - not two or three at a time - practically flew by. Whatever room she was in always affected which stations she picked up (although she was pretty lucky in her room and the lab), so she knew she'd have to wait until she was in the library itself.

She wasn't ready for the sight that greeted her upon her return.

Rocky was still standing where she'd left him, which wouldn't have been weird in itself. What was weird was that he was staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused, and he barely moved, aside from the occasional twitch of his lips, like he was trying to say something.

This was a new one. Was he talking to himself? Some kind of trance?

Regardless, he didn't respond to her entering and setting the radio down. She wasn't afraid, but she sure as hell didn't know what to do, a feeling she hated. Going to Frank was definitely the worst possible idea and going to Riff or Magenta only slightly less so. That left only one option.

She braced herself for any possible reaction, ready to jump back just in case, and tapped his shoulder. "Uh, you ok?"

Rocky immediately shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut before looking at her. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

She opened her mouth again - did he even have any idea of what had happened? - but ultimately shook her head. "Just checking. Got any favorite stations?"

He shrugged, which she took to mean he'd be fine with the rock station.

Which she quickly learned was 90% static in this part of the house, so she kept twisting the dial until Aretha Franklin belted out the chorus of "I Say A Little Prayer." She looked back at Rocky, who just nodded. That was good enough for her.

The music - a Soul/R&B station, according to the jingles - helped a bit with the silence as they fell back into their system, but that tension was still there. She knew how to tell when people were mad; the fact that he clearly wasn't made it worse.

Honestly, his yelling and cursing might help things at this point. (It's what Eddie would have done, she thought, unfairly). Right now, the only ones talking were the DJs.

"Alright, folks, if your day needs a boost, here's Jackie Wilson to help you out." Her ears perked up at the name before the drums started, and she knew she wouldn't be able to control her feet. Outside of Elvis' stuff, there were very few songs that could make every part of her dance, regardless of where she was or if she had her tap shoes on.

"Higher and Higher" was one of those songs.

She wasn't sure if she said anything to Rocky before she launched into her routine, her feet knowing exactly what to do while avoiding the furniture and piles of books.

Right now, she was nowhere near this library, or this castle, or Denton. She was in a glittery dress, on a stage surrounded by mirrors, making Fred Astaire think she was keeping up with him while really being the one in control.

The only downside to this fantasy was, as the song was two-and-a-half minutes, it always ended too soon. She leaned against a sofa, taking deep breaths and savoring the little rush of adrenaline, when she noticed Rocky staring at her.

Oh no.

She couldn't decide which was worse - breaking into one of her spontaneous dances without reading the room or throwing their workflow out of whack - and had to pick the slightly-less awful option. "Sorry. I didn't mean to throw us off."

"That was amazing." She saw the look properly on his face: awe. This wasn't just trying to dance with one foot. He saw her in proper action (maybe he saw her at the Christmas party, but maybe not across a packed room, and definitely not in the kitchen afterward). Did watching her bring him out of his mood? No, it couldn't be that easy.

It wasn't as easy as getting a date off to a good start by tapping out a routine with her hands on top of a bar.

"How did you do that?" Eddie had asked something like that the first time he saw her in action.

Her cheeks warmed. "I don't really know, I kind of just…do it. When I hear a song I really like, my feet develop minds of their own." She wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't understand - that wasn't much of an explanation - but the way he was nodding, the look on his face, told her that he did get it, or that he took her too literally.

"Want me to show you properly?" Just once; if he said yes, she'd do one routine and then they could get back to work.

"Sure," he grinned. Well aware of a surge of pride at this chance, she motioned for him to give her more space. He stood by the wall they were working on, books still in hand.

The next song started, and she went to work. It was a song she wasn't as familiar with, but she knew it well enough to not overthink her steps as her feet thumped across the floor.

All the time, Rocky never looked away. When she spun, or lifted her leg, or had a close call with a chair, she always felt his eyes on her.

Just like Eddie.

At some point, a book from the pile found its way into her hands; she thumped her way across the room and placed it in Rocky's hands, then heel-stepped back to the pile for another one.

Back and forth, back and forth, dropping into a split to fill a spot on the bottom. She sauntered back to the table, and noticed Rocky from the corner of her eye, following behind and trying to mimic her.

As more books passed between them and the shelves began to fill up, it briefly occurred to her that no MGM musical routine worked as well as what the two of them were doing, but the thought slipped away as she reached for the next book.

She didn't mean to look at the clock. She'd stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and it was right in front of her.

3:30, and the shadows outside were already getting long.

As much as she didn't want to stop, she'd made a promise to herself for when the blizzards had stopped.

"Is it okay if we stop for today?"

He looked at her, surprised. That was understandable; they'd found such a good rhythm, what was she doing by ending it? Even so, she started scrambling for an explanation. "It's just I've been meaning to visit my mom this week."

His face immediately changed to realization, and he nodded. "Yeah, it's no problem."

After a brief double-take at how fewer books were piled and scattered around the room, she left the library for the hall closet, Rocky close behind her. Pulling her coat off its hook and tugging it on, she turned to him. "Thanks for your help."

"Anytime. Actually, it was kind of fun."

Fun? She never thought she'd hear anyone describe shelving books as "fun," but then again, not everyone was grown in a lab and kept under Frank's thumb.

Pulling a hat down over her ears and stuffing the ends of her scarf into her coat, she grabbed the boots she kept in this closet for such an occasion and sat on a nearby chair to slip her feet in. Rocky stood by, watching, looking anxious and ready to step in and help. She smiled reassuringly - and this time, she really meant it - as she stood up. "I better get going before it gets too dark."

"Right." Rocky looked a little unsure of what to do now, or maybe he was worried about her going out now in this weather?

Either way, she decided to lighten the mood before leaving. "Don't worry, I won't be out all night."

With that said, she turned to go.

"Say hi to your mom for me."

She froze.

Did he just say that? He obviously never knew her mother, and he didn't know about the grave. Why would he-

Wait, what was with her? He probably just heard that somewhere and said it to be nice.

"T-thanks, I will," she said, walking down the hall before she could start questioning him.

Stopping only to grab some flowers from a nearby vase - yes, she knew flowers could only last so long outside in the middle of February, but she hadn't had a chance to visit in a few months. It didn't feel right to show up with nothing. - she headed through the house, out the kitchen door, and up the path through the woods.

The crunch of snow and the occasional bird call helped, but the outside was still quiet enough to set her thoughts racing.

He didn't know. He couldn't know. Hell, Frank didn't know.

Her little voice of common sense repeated yet again that he was being nice and that was it, but that alone didn't sit right.

Then it occurred to her that it may not have even been Rocky talking.

Once, she brought Eddie to visit her mother. It had been somewhat awkward at first – he hadn't had the best relationship with his own mother while she was alive; how was he supposed to act when his girlfriend brought him to her mother's grave? - but he'd loosened up quickly enough

So, was Rocky remembering? Remembering what? That wasn't him. He had Eddie's brain - okay, half, which still counted to her - but he wasn't Eddie.

She needed to keep reminding herself of that, and if she kept up this train of thought, she'd be leaving here with a nice headache.

Shoving this thought into the crowded space at the back of her mind, the back gate of the cemetery came into view at the end of the path. Clutching the flowers, she took a deep breath that she didn't let out until she was at the grave.

The grave would have been easy to miss under the snow, but she knew the way with her eyes closed, and swept the powder away to reveal the stone set into the earth. Gathering her thoughts, she gently set the flowers down and knelt in the snow (briefly regretting not bringing something to sit on, but oh well, maybe next time).

"Hi, Mom. Sorry it's been a while."

The words flowed out of her. Talking to her mother always made her feel better, and morbid as it may seem, this time was no exception. She cringed when describing her behavior around Christmas, and how she nearly broke her toe - "You probably wouldn't be too proud of me for that," she laughed weakly - but as she moved on, especially once she got to apologizing to Rocky, it became easier.

By the time she finished describing the trip to Hollywood, a weight was off her chest.

She knew the weight would settle back into place - it always did - but for now, she'd enjoy not having to carry everything around inside.

The sky started fading from blue to pink and gold as she stood and dusted the snow off. Another regret at not bringing a blanket flared up, but she quashed it; if nothing else, the walk back to the castle would keep her legs warm enough.

"Bye, Mom. I'll come back." It always hurt saying that, only slightly more than what she always said next: "I love you."

She pressed a kiss to her palm and laid it on the stone, letting the cold seep into her hand for a moment before she slipped her glove on and turned away.

Oh right, her promise.

It wasn't like he was here. If she left now, he wouldn't know the difference.

"By the way, Rocky says 'Hi.'"

Was it her, or did she feel even better for having said that?

Dusting the snow off, she headed back the way she came, a weight off her shoulders (for now, at least) and a song in her heart. She sang quietly, letting her take on "Higher and Higher" mingle its way into the winter air.

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

This is early but have a happy Halloween!