Leela toyed with her gun, drumming her fingers against the barrel in an attempt to calm her nerves.

She wasn't going to take it home with her. Of course not. She'd just taken it from her locker to . . . to hold. While she considered the possibility her husband was crazy.

Not for the first time, Leela cursed her own lack of imagination. Her excuses wouldn't have fooled Zoidberg, and her subconscious seemed to openly sneer at her as she checked the charge level on her firearm. Fully loaded. Good.

"I'm not bringing the gun," she said aloud. She cleared her throat and tried again, aiming for a more assertive tone of voice.

"I'm not bringing the gun. Lars is not crazy."

Well, that sounded a little better. What did Doctor Cahill know, anyway? Sure, she held a medical degree and she was the last person to actually see Lars . . . but that didn't mean anything. Well, it didn't mean much.

She didn't know him like Leela did. Lars couldn't be crazy.

Leela closed her eye, turning that statement over in her mind. Was it true, or was she just deluding herself? She cast her mind back, searching for clues, but she couldn't seem to think straight. Wherever she looked for suspicion, she just found . . . Lars. Her husband. She saw him on their wedding night, sick with food poisoning but insisting they'd get their first dance together – though he had to keep breaking off the waltz to throw up in punch bowls and in people's hats. She saw herself wake up gasping because she'd been snoring and he'd pinched her nose again – and she saw him laughing, pulling her down to kiss him even as she beat him with a pillow. Telling her she didn't look monster-y, picking her up before she could fall over her own boots in the morning . . .

Leela opened her eye. Her hands had stilled and she had her answer. Lars might be crazy, for all she knew - but he would never hurt her.

The cyclops stood up, crossed the Planet Express kitchen in two strides, and shoved the gun in the freezer, slamming the door shut before she could change her mind. To distract herself, she opened the fridge instead, running an idle eye over the contents. Let's see . . . a stuffed sub that probably belonged to Hermes, a prepackaged salad she'd bought two days ago, three cans of Lo-Brau she might as well call Bender's (he'd drink them anyway), and a can of Slurm which could only be Fry's. Leela picked up the last and headed back to the table with it. She could take or leave Slurm usually (you developed that ability once you'd seen it squirted from the Slurm Queen's rear end) but the instant the thick sweet soda hit her tongue she felt herself relax.

The table was strewn with junk. Leela hadn't been to work in days, and it seemed no-one had bothered to clean up after themselves in her absence. She frowned. Didn't they have someone to do that? A janitor or something? Oh well. She'd remember later. She swept her arm out in front of her, clearing away some of the crap. A broken calculator, a pot of yellow nail polish, a pair of maracas . . . her hand fell upon something she'd never seen before, and she picked up.

It was a plastic cube, made up of rows of smaller cubes. Each one was a different color and rotated when she moved it, but beyond that, it didn't seem to do much. She was trying to open it up when she heard voices. Leela dropped the cube, horrified, and next thing she knew she was squashed inside a cupboard, covering her mouth with her hand so her breathing wouldn't give her away.

Hiding. She was actually hiding from Fry. Oh lord. This had to be a new low.

"Look," he snapped on the other side of the cupboard door, "can't you just give me a break? I don't want to be part of any stupid wedding anyway."

"Hey!" Amy spluttered, offended. "That's my wedding you're talking about."

Bender's voice cut in. "And mine, meatbag."

"I hate weddings," Fry retorted. "Happy ever after, big whoop. I don't see why you have to get married anyway."

Amy folded her arms. "We didn't win the right to robosexual marriage so we could not get married, Fry."

"Yeah," Bender put in. "And the best part is, we won the right to marry, but not to a legally binding pre-nup. Now when we marry, I get half of Amy's assets! Neat, huh?"

There was a dull thunk as Amy swatted at him. "Shut up."

"Make me, baby."

"Ugh." Fry retched under his breath. "I need a Slurm." He reached for the can on the table and frowned at the lightness of it. "Hey – who's been drinking my Slurm? That was my last can!"

"Hmm." Amy took the can, and Bender zoomed one of his optics in on it. "Leela," they said together.

"That's her lipstick," Amy said, passing the can back. "She gets it at the drugstore."

At that moment, Leela wished she'd held onto the cube. She could have thrown it at Amy's head.

Instead she bit back her growl of annoyance and pressed her eye to the gap in the cupboard door - the better to spy on Fry, who was staring at the lipstick stain on his Slurm can like it might leap up and bite him. He rubbed at it with his thumb and Leela found herself following the slow, thoughtful motion, a hot flush creeping up her neck as she watched. She was mad at him, but she couldn't help remembering his hands on her breasts, in her hair, coming up to cup her cheek as he kissed her . . . She shut her eye, hard, and bit down on her tongue.

It was just lust. She could get it under control if she really tried.

She opened her eye just as Fry scowled and crumpled the can in his fist. Slurm spurted out over his fingers and when he prised them away from the can she saw blood. He yelped, sucking at the odd mixture as the can clattered to the floor.

"Schmeepers!" Amy shrieked. "What did you do? Here, let me help."

She jumped up and retrieved a towel, pressing it to his palm to stop the worst of the bleeding.

"And I thought I was clumsy . . . hey, hold still!"

The Martian girl dabbed at his hand, muttering under her breath. Leela couldn't understand the words, but whatever she was saying, it sounded pitying. Affectionate too. For one wild moment the cyclops wanted to push Amy away and clean Fry up herself. To hit him for being so stupid and kiss him for caring. He's mine, she thought fiercely. And he was. She thought about that first time they'd made love, down by the ship – how hard Fry had been shaking as he tried to get her out of her clothes. The way he'd kissed her in the ruins of Old New York, his heart beating underneath her hand. Even the rawness in his voice when he'd yelled at her. Leela had always known she had a jealous streak, but it was true – Fry belonged to her in a way he never would to Amy. He was hers.

Woah, girl. Stop that. He's not yours. You're just getting jealous and possessive because you slept with him. It's probably an evolutionary thing, like marking your territory. No big deal. Just keep it to yourself until it goes away, and try not to put your boot in Amy's face every time she touches him. How hard can it be?

"I'm not clumsy," Fry said moodily. "I'm mad at her."

Bender blew some smoke in his face, cackling as the redhead choked and spluttered.

"You mean she's mad at you," he corrected.

"No!" Fry thumped the table with his fist. "I know what I meant, dagnabbit! I'm – ow! - mad at her. And don't ask me why."

"Why?"

"I said don't ask me!"

Bender shrugged. "Yeah, but that means you really want me to know."

"No it doesn't! Stop asking me."

"Ooh, you really, really want me to know! It's okay, you can tell Uncle Bender. Your secret's safe with me. Unless I decide to tell, or use it as blackmail at a later date. I can't be held accountable for that."

"I'm not telling you. Quit asking."

Amy dabbed at Fry's hand, looking sympathetic. "Yeah Bender, quit asking."

"Thanks, Amy."

"It's okay. You guys had a fight, right?"

Fry frowned. "I guess. I mean, I think so . . . hey! I said quit asking!"

"Sorry." Amy examined his hand. "Well, the bleeding's stopped."

"Thanks."

"No problem. So . . . you're not sure if she's mad at you?"

Fry groaned. He picked up the cube to distract himself, and started twisting the little squares at random. "I don't wanna talk about it. Can we just talk about your wedding or something? I'll pretend to care about flowers and junk, if you want."

Bender and Amy replied in unison. "Nope."

"Cake?" Fry suggested hopefully. "I could really care about cake."

"Nope."

"Not gonna cut it."

"Crud." The delivery boy continued to pull at colored squares, wincing at the pain in his fingers. "Fine," he snapped. "I'm mad at her, and I'm pretty sure she's mad at me. I don't care. She's always mad at me for something. I should've known one day she'd be mad at me for just being there."

"Being where?"

"Anywhere! It doesn't matter. I get it wrong when I do what she wants and I stuff up even worse when I do what I want. I'm done." He threw the cube back on the table. Done? Leela thought. Done with what? Her? The conversation? The cube? All three, maybe. "I'll see you guys later."

Amy and Bender watched him go, then exchanged looks.

Amy sighed. "He told her he loves her again."

"He's stupid enough, that's for sure."

Amy bit her lip. "Maybe we should talk to him."

Bender seemed less concerned. He had picked up the cube, turning it over in his hand. The colors had come together, Leela saw with surprise, the same colored squares arranged on every side. How had Fry done that?

Bender seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Neat," he said to himself.

Amy tapped her foot impatiently. "Ben-der."

"What? Oh, right. That." The robot waved a hand dismissively. "I've told him to knock it off a hundred times already. It's not my fault he's a sucker for punishment, is it? You're a loser and she'll never love you. I told him. Offered to clean out his ears too, but he didn't take me up on it."

"He won't hear you. He just keeps going back there to get hurt again." Amy sighed. "Poor guy."

"Yup. He's an idiot."

"Everyone in love is an idiot," Amy said thickly.

"I hear you. Hey . . . are you crying?"

The Martian girl sniffled. "No."

"Oh," Bender said awkwardly. "Well . .. you're leaking. You want me to touch up a seam for you? I could do that."

"No."

"Oh. Okay. Is this about whatisface?"

"Kif."

"Yeah, him. Want me to beat him up for you? I could do that too, if he's bothering you. Just say the word, sweetcheeks!"

"No!" Amy blinked back more tears, fighting to regain her composure. "He didn't do anything wrong, I'm just thinking about him. It's just . . . it's so sad, when one person loves more. That's all."

Bender laughed. "Yeah," he scoffed. "And it's even sadder when one person doesn't love at all." He gave an evil laugh. "You know, if Fry was a puppy, she'd have put him out of his misery by now." The robot mimed stomping and laughed even harder.

Amy watched him for a moment and then burst into tears. "Like I stomped all over Kif's heart!" she choked, and ran sobbing from the room.

Bender gaped after her. "Huh? Hey, come back baby! I didn't mean it!" He ran after her, his voice receding from Leela's hearing. "Aw, yeah . . . feel like bein' sensitive and stuff, baby . . . "

Free at last, the cyclops tumbled out of the cabinet and hobbled over to the nearest chair, massaging the cramp from her muscles. She could feel another headache building behind her eyeball.

And she was mad again.

Oh, she thought angrily, so I'm the person who doesn't love at all, am I?

She blinked.

Well . . . yes, another inner voice countered. Aren't you? You're supposed to be. That's the whole point!

Leela frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. Of course she didn't love Fry. There were at least a hundred things he'd have had to change about himself before she could even think about loving him. She'd started a list once, to idle away an especially long space flight. They'd hit a space cow at Number 97 ("that god-awful WC Fields impression") but the cyclops felt she'd hardly even scratched the surface, really. Number 98, she thought bitterly, he's stubborn as a mule. He had to go ahead and be mad at her, didn't he, before she'd even finished figuring out if she was really mad at him.

Well, she was mad at him now!

Leela was halfway home, grinding her teeth on the subway, when she realized she was still holding Fry's toy. She twisted it sharply, fragmenting the colors again, and thrust it into her pocket. She spent the rest of the ride home adding to the List until she calmed down.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Bender was calling her an idiot, but she ignored it.