Fry was on his seventeenth verse of Walking on Sunshine before Leela snapped.

"That's it – we're getting out of here."

Fry struggled out of his habitual slouch. "Great! Um. How?"

Leela tightened her ponytail and flexed her fingers, trying not to think too much about what she was going to say next. It wasn't entirely sensible, she knew, but Walking On Sunshine was starting to get to her.

"I flew this ship blindfolded once," she said firmly. "I can do it again."

Fry's mouth fell open. "Uhhh . . . not exactly."

Leela narrowed her eye. "What do you mean, not exactly?"

Fry squirmed.

"Fry!"

Fry writhed uncomfortably in his seat for another moment, and then blurted it out.

"Not-exactly-I-flew-the-ship-for-you-don't-be-mad?"

It was Leela's jaw that dropped this time. "You did what? Oh, god. We're boned."

To her surprise, Fry started to grin.

"Maybe not. Do you trust me?"

"With your life?" Leela snorted. "Absolutely not."

Fry waved this away undisputed, but pressed on. "Would you trust me with yours?"

The answer sprang to her lips before she even had time to think it over. Leela bit her tongue, and simply nodded instead.

Fry spun her round to face the controls, his smile a sudden supernova.

"Then let's do this."

Leela tightened her grip on the wheel and glanced back at the ladder. There was a brief, muffled "ow" and then Fry's voice floated down from the gunner's seat.

"On your marks, captain!"

Leela swallowed nervously. Now that there was a comfortable distance between her and Fry, waiting for a rescue team didn't seem such a bad idea.

"I steer," she called up to him. "You navigate. Got it?"

"Sure thing. Can we go already? I left a tub of ice-cream on the couch and – yow!"

Leela smiled to herself. The sudden restart had been worth it just to picture Fry's face.

"Left!" he shouted frantically from above. "Left! Right! Oooh, ooh, asteroid belt at twelve'o'clock!"

Flying blind was probably one of the most foolish and terrifying things Leela had ever done, but it was also strangely exhilarating. Her body had taken over, yanking the controls left and right as though Fry's orders had bypassed her brain and gone straight to her hands. Her stomach lurched with every movement. Somewhere out there the ship scythed through asteroid belts and skirted black holes, in a graceful, spinning dance. Depth perception? Hah! She was flying blind.

Through the fog of adreneline, she noticed Fry's instructions becoming more frequent, more specialized. And there was noise from outside too, the grind of engines cooling and the sound of voices . . .

"Lower . . bit lower . . . left a bit . . . and coast!" Fry cried.

There was a strangled cry, followed by a scrape of metal on tarmac as the ship made an audibly sloppy landing.

Leela slammed the brakes on and raised the windshield. Cool Earth air struck her in the face. When her eye had adjusted to it, she made out a docking port in New New York, and a crowd. There were DOOP search and rescue ships there, and familiar faces. There was Bender, lighting up a cigar ; Kif, heaving an obvious sigh of relief ; and Lars, a little pale, but grinning nonetheless. There was an icepack wrapped around his right hand. And beside him – oh it was almost too perfect – stood a frazzled-looking Zapp Brannigan. He was sporting a shining black eye, and struggling to cram his tattered hairpiece back on his head.

There was a thump as Fry's sneakers hit the floor beside her and then her friend was laughing in her ear.

"We went right over the top of his head! Look at his face! Oh man, I hope Bender got pictures!"

Leela was laughing too before she knew it, excitement and terror bubbling up into a sort of madness. She had leapt from her seat without realizing it, and was pressed against Fry, laughing, spinning, the collar of his jacket pressed up against her nose as he muffled his hiccupy laughter in her neck. She felt his lips move against her skin when he next spoke, his unbridled, unthinking enthusiasm getting the better of him. It took a moment for her dizziness to subside, for his words to sink in - but when they did, they sank like a titanium anchor ; a hard, fast blow to the stomach that left her breathless and off-balance.

"You and me, Leela! You and me!"