It wasn't just once.

Leela opened her eye, and the ceiling of her cabin on the ship swam into view. A series of less mundane images flashed across her inner eye, and she had to bite down on her arm to stop herself from screaming.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh, god."

She had slept with Fry. She stared at her hand, willing herself to find some evidence it wasn't true. But her finger was ringless and her body was more than happy to provide its own evidence. She ached all over ; the dull, satisfied throb of someone completely spent. However tortured her mind might be, her body was perfectly content, and happy to rub the point in her face. You didn't just sleep with Fry, it sneered, you banged his brains out.

Leela fought against the tidal wave of resurfacing memory. There was no point reviewing it – she already knew the most important thing.

It was all her fault.

You enjoyed it though, the smug little voice in her head reminded her. That's what you get for ten years of sexual tension. He passed out! Ha!

She sat bolt upright. Fry had passed out, but he wasn't here in the bed with her. Leela experienced a moment of brief, paralysing fear – what if he'd gone and told Bender? - and then she saw him. He was sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, and he'd been watching her this whole time.

He was fully dressed, and he looked terrible. He had dug his sneakers into the floor and crossed his arms over his knees, locking himself in place so he couldn't run. He was pale, and looked even more terrified, if that were possible, than he had when she'd first kissed him last night. His mouth was pressed into a tight line, as though he was so afraid he might actually throw up.

He flinched when she caught his eye, and held up his hands.

"Please don't hate me," he blurted out.

Leela stared, horror creeping over her as she figured it out.

He thought she was going to blame him. Was she really that bad? True, she wished it could be his fault – it would make this a hell of a lot easier – but he must know it wasn't.

"I don't hate you, Fry."

Fry blinked. "You – you don't?"

What did he think he was guilty of? Not saying no? Yes, she realized. That's exactly what he thinks. Leela felt a new surge of self-loathing. She had pushed the one thing he'd always wanted on him, and he felt guilty for taking it. Ten years of carefully not abusing Fry's feelings for her, and she had undone it all in one night.

Leela kneaded her forehead.

"This was . . . it was my idea. It was my fault. Not yours."

"I don't get it."

Leela sighed. "Fry, all you did was say yes. Stop beating yourself up and leave that to me, why don't you?"

Fry frowned. "That's not what I meant."

"What?"

"I mean . . . that too, but . .. why? Why did you do it? I mean," he avoided her eye, "I know why I did it. But why would you even want me?"

"Oh, Fry . . ."

Leela started to cry. Fry leapt up at once, but stopped about six inches away from her and hung back awkwardly.

"Don't cry. Please."

Unfortunately this only made her cry all the harder. This, Leela thought bitterly, was why she had always avoided the whole messy area of Fry's feelings for her. All she had ever tried to do was keep him at a safe distance, to stop either of them getting hurt. But it had all snowballed somehow, and now here he was, unable to understand why she – Leela, one-eyed mutant orphan girl – would ever want him. She had thought she liked being Fry's unattainable goal, had thought she enjoyed being up on a pedestal for once. It didn't feel so good anymore.

Leela blew her nose, trying to pull herself together. She couldn't face all this now.

"I wanted someone," she lied. "You were just there, Fry."

"Oh. Okay."

Leela winced. She had grown up in an orphanarium. She knew what it was like to have hopes you didn't even dare admit to yourself, and she knew what it was like to have them squashed. It hurt to watch that same feeling play across Fry's face, to watch him try and be nonchalant about it.

Lars! She ordered herself. Think about Lars!

"Please don't tell anyone," she whispered.

"Sure," Fry said, in the same hollow, faux-nonchalant voice.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say, but the words just wouldn't come out. They were too complicated.

The sound of Hermes whistling in the hangar made them both jump.

"I'm on it," Fry said quickly. He almost ran from the cabin, but must have exited the ship calmly enough, because Hermes didn't seem to notice anything suspiscious.

"Hey, Hermes, you wanna grab some breakfast?"

"Mmm, breakfast. Sounds good, mon!"

Their footsteps receeded and Leela let her head fall forwards again with a groan. She looked up at the tinkle of metal on her bedside locker.

Nibbler had just spat out her wedding ring.

"Nibbler?"

"I suspected you might want this," her pet said. "Incidentally, do you have any aspirin? And possibly a ham?"

"Nibbler?"

"Ah. Yes?"

After a moment Leela became aware that though her mouth was moving, there weren't any words coming out.

"You – you – you watched?"

"Certainly not!" Nibbler looked affronted. "I mostly overheard."

Leela choked. "Nibbler!"

Her pet edged away. "I am Nibblonian! Not human! Really, the mating rituals of another species hold very little interest for me . . . aha . . . ahem."

Leela seized him by the scruff of the neck. "One word to Lars," she snapped, "and I'll put you in a hamster cage! I mean it!"

"Of course! I would never dream of interfering, Leela," Nibbler said solemnly.

Leela frowned at him. "I almost believe you," she said bitterly. She let him fall and buried her head in her hands, wondering what the hell she had just done. And why.