Leela was dreaming.

In the dream, she was standing on the bridge of the Planet Express ship, staring out at the inky blackness of space.

"Why aren't we moving?" she demanded, wheeling round to face the cockpit. Bender was there, but he only laughed - which was to be expected, she supposed. Bender had never been accused of being helpful. "Alright," she groaned. "Let's get this show on the road, people. Fry-"

Lars was sitting in Fry's seat.

"Hey there," he said calmly.

"I . . . Lars? But . . . where's Fry?"

Her husband shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I can fly the ship."

"But . . . this is his job," Leela protested. "You can't just take his job."

Lars shrugged again. "He's not here. He went to leave you a message."

"You snooze, you lose," Bender interjected. "Let's go already!"

Leela shook her head. "No, that's not . . . hey, when did it get so dark? Where did all the stars go?"

Lars stared back at her. "Ask Fry," he said quietly. "This is pretty much all his fault."

But that didn't answer anything, and it was getting darker and darker. She should leave, should get them out of here before it was too late . . .

More stars flickered out and the darkness grew thicker, settling over the cockpit until all she could see was the faint glow from Bender's eyes.

"Leela? Leela?"

"Fry!"

Leela jolted, struggling to orient herself in the dark.

"Fry!" she shouted. "Fry? Where are you?"

The delivery boy's voice was faint, like an echo. He sounded scared, and lost.

"I don't know," he gasped. "Somewhere, I guess . . . Leela, you have to help me."

Leela stumbled blindly toward his voice. "How? How do I help you?"

But Fry wasn't listening.

"Leela!" he cried. "Did you see it? You saw it, right? My message? I spelled it out in really big letters so you'd get it. You know, like a STOP sign on a highway. You had to see it!"

He sounded so excited, so hopeful. It made his voice stronger, easier to find, but she still had no idea what he was talking about. There was a warm golden glow at her back, in the direction of the window, but Leela couldn't turn around now. The dream was starting to scare her, and she'd feel a lot better if she knew where Fry was. She had to figure this out, had to get them out of here. She was captain, after all. She had responsibilities. She was supposed to be in control.

"I don't know what you mean," she said loudly. "But keep talking, Fry. That's good, I can find you. As long as we're talking, I can find you."

"What? No! You have to look!"

"I'll look in a minute."

"No!" Fry sounded panicked now. "Now!" he yelled. "You have to look now! If you don't look now, you'll never see it!"

"Never see what?" Leela snapped. She had just stubbed her toe. "I'm not in the mood to play games, Fry." As she rubbed at her bootcap, the ship grew darker, the warm glow fading at her back. She felt suddenly cold.

"Oh, nothing," Fry whispered. "Nothing at all . . ."

His voice faded and died, and then Leela found herself running, screaming his name as she fled into the bowels of the ship.

"Fry!" she screamed. "Fry!"

The echoes bounced back at her, empty of any other voice, and every corner she turned threw up another expanse of empty corridor. She felt sick with terror.

Oh god. He was lost, he was hurt, he was dead . . .

A door slid open ahead of her and she flung herself through it . . . only to find herself back in the cockpit. Bender's laugh had a sneering edge now, but Leela didn't care - because by the glow of his eyes, she could make out a familiar figure sitting in the co-pilot's chair.

"Fry!" she gasped. Overcome with relief, she threw her arms about his neck. She was shaking, she realized. But it was okay, because Fry was hugging her back, smiling against her skin, and he was unhurt. "You idiot," she berated him. "I thought I'd lost you! You were supposed to be here! Where were you?"

Fry rubbed her back awkwardly. "It's okay," he soothed. "I'd never leave you. You know that."

Maybe that was why she kissed him. Maybe it was that or cry.

"I'd never leave you," Fry promised as she kissed him, but his cheek grew scratchy against her own and the kiss changed, until suddenly, she was staring into another face.

"I never did," Lars whispered.

Leela woke with a shuddering gasp. Her heart was racing, her skin slick with sweat.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Just a scary, surreal dream.

She sat up – and the nausea hit.

It would have been nice, she thought afterwards, to have had a little warning. To make it to the bathroom would have been great, though she would have settled for spewing on the carpet if she had to. As it was, she'd managed to projectile-vomit all over her boots and her pet.

Nibbler woke up with a squeal and shook himself instinctively, spattering her in sick before he realized what he'd done.

"Oh," he said, when he'd got his bearings. "Oh dear." He sniffed himself curiously. "Leela, this may be indelicate, but I seem to be covered in vomit. Is everything -?"

Leela wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Everything's fine," she said brusquely. It was true – the nausea was already fading. She tugged her boots off, grimacing. "I . . . I had a bad dream, that's all."

"Bad?" Nibbler followed her to the bathroom, frowning. "Bad in what way?"

Leela shook her head, swilling her mouth out with water. She put the plug in when she was done and filled the sink up to serve as a bath for Nibbler.

"It wasn't bad. Just creepy, that's all. I'm creeped out, by all this."

Nibbler rolled a lavender bath bomb across the floor with his nose. Leela picked it up obediently and plopped it into the sink. Her pet sniffed cautiously at the surface as it fizzed and splashed. He growled at a few bubbles, and then took a running jump, sending water cascading across the floor as he dived in.

"Your unease is understandable," he said after a moment. "It might explain your reaction, certainly."

Leela sighed. Nibbler's concern would have been more convincing if he hadn't been happily doing the backstroke with his eyes shut. He didn't look as if he cared too much what had caused her reaction.

"It was just so vivid," she explained, as she stepped into the shower herself. "It felt like I was really awake."

She had felt so terrified – a tearful, emotional mess. She could still remember the awful, gut-wrenching fear when she'd thought Fry was lost, and the relief that had washed over her when she found him safe. In the dream, it had been all she could think about. But that didn't make any sense. Why would she dream about being scared to lose Fry? Losing Fry was not the problem right now. If anything, she was suffering from an abundance of Fry. She could probably do with losing a Fry or two.

"Fry turned into Lars," she mumbled. "And all the stars went out. What a weird dream."

There was a splash and a squeak.

"You dreamed – hic! - what?"

Leela screamed. Her pet had just pushed open the shower door and was now glaring in at her, hiccuping lavender-scented bubbles. She groped hastily for a towel.

"Nibbler! You scared me half to death!"

"I apologize. But your dream, Leela. I must know. It may be of vital importance."

The cyclops sighed. "Not that again," she complained. "Look, I'm not dreaming about Fry because he's about to blow up the universe. My subconscious is just trying to tell me something, that's all. And it's pretty obvious what."

Nibbler nodded sagely. "You fear losing him."

Leela blinked. "No . . . I meant that Lars turning into Fry really freaked me out. I'm not afraid of losing Fry. As a matter of fact, I could probably do with losing Fry." She twisted her hair into a loose pony, squeezing it dry. "Who said anything about losing Fry?"

"I guessed. But your reaction would seem to suggest-"

"I didn't say I was afraid of losing Fry," Leela interrupted. "No-one's losing Fry."

She was still squeezing her hair out, though there was hardly any moisture left in it. Leela shook herself and stepped out of the shower.

"Let's stop talking about it."

Leela picked her way through the streets of the mutant settlement, covering her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. She knew it was rude, but she couldn't help herself - the smell seemed to gotten so much worse down here lately. They must be pumping something really foul down from the surface. She made a mental note to ask her parents about it, in some way that wouldn't remind them they lived in a total craphole.

On their doorstep she uncovered her nose and held her breath as she knocked, praying her mom would answer the door before she passed out. (Or barfed all over her boots, which was starting to feel like a real possibility.)

The cyclops felt her fists clench instinctively. Even after all these years, the indifference of the surface-dwellers still made her seethe. How could they let her parents live like this? How could they let anyone live like this? It was filthy, it was squalid, it was inhumane. And no-one cared.

"Leela? Oh, Leela!"

Munda's tentacles whipped around her daughter's waist and pulled her inside in an instant. The crushing hug continued for a lot longer than Leela had expected.

"Mom?" she managed, when she was set free at last. "Mom, are you okay? What's wrong? Is it the sewer? I knew it smelled worse down here-"

"What? No, honey, the sewer's just the same as always. I've just been so worried. I thought we'd hear from you sooner . . . Morris! Morris, get in here! It's Leela!"

A door down the hall opened and her father emerged, making desperate shushing motions. When he saw Leela he stopped immediately and started looking guilty instead.

"Leela! Princess! We were so worried about you! How are you doing?"

Leela blinked. "I . .. well, not so great, actually. That's what I was going to . . ." She frowned. "Wait, why have you been worried? What have you heard?"

Munda laid a tentacle comfortingly on her daughter's arm. "Honey," she said softly, "it's okay. We know."

"Know?" Leela blanched. "About everything?"

Her parents nodded.

"Oh my god."

Munda squeezed her hand. "I was a little surprised."

Morris let out a hoot of laughter. "A little?"

Munda glared. "I only meant . . . sweetie, I thought things were going so well between you and Lars."

"You mean me and Fry," Leela snapped. "Who I only married because he tricked me into it! Hang on a minute, hold the phone. How do you guys know all this?"

Her parents exchanged nervous glances.

"Now, honey," her father began, "don't be angry -"

"Lars told you."

Munda patted her hand. "You mustn't be too harsh on him. He was very upset. But -"

"When?" Leela growled. "When was he here? And what makes him think he has the right to come down here and tell you I – I -"

Munda clicked her tongue impatiently. "Slept with Fry," she finished firmly. "Leela, precious, you're in your thirties. It's silly to be coy."

Morris nodded. "You cheated on your husband, with . . well, your husband, I guess. Are we disappointed in you? Sure, a little. But you can't bring it back up once you've flushed it, I always say. What's done is done. Besides, we always liked Fry. Whoever you choose, we'll know he loves you."

"And that's all that really matters," Munda added.

"Choose?" Leela said hotly. "Who said anything about choosing? Listen, it was a mistake. I never would have done it if I'd known the truth! And what in the sewer makes you think I want Fry? Any Fry! That's just absurd."

"You did marry him, honey. Twice."

Morris raised a helpful hand. "Don't forget that time you married him in a parallel universe."

Munda nodded.

"Exactly. You married him three times. Call me old-fashioned, but I can't help thinking that means something."

"It doesn't mean a thing," Leela protested. "I don't know what happened the first time, but he definitely tricked me into the second. And that last one wasn't even me! It was another universe. Other me was a redhead, for crying out loud! She was obviously completely irresponsible." Leela shook her head. "None of this matters. I would never have married Lars if I'd known the truth."

"Are you sure about that?"

Leela crossed her arms. "This is not my fault," she huffed. "How many times do I have to say it?"

"Oh? Not your fault, is it?" Munda arched her eyebrow. For a moment she looked horribly knowing. "Then I suppose you didn't enjoy being married to him at all?"

"That's not the point. I thought he was somebody else!"

"You knew who he was when you slept with him. The other him. Fry-Fry. Now, try telling me you didn't enjoy that!"

"I . . . Mom!"

"Don't you mom me, missy. I've seen the way you look at that boy, when you think he's not looking. Frankly, I don't care to speculate."

Leela blushed crimson. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said stolidly.

Morris was frowning. "Me either. What way? What are we talking about?"

"Nothing, Dad," Leela said hurriedly. "It's nothing."

"If you say so, sugarplum. But your mother does have a point. I mean, you marry Fry, you cheat on him with Fry -" - her father grinned nervously - "- you could say you have a type. Y'know. Fry."

"And that," her mother added fiercely, "is why anyone said anything about choosing. Because like it or not, you're going to have to. You love Lars. You're hurt right now, but you still love him."

"You don't know that," Leela said weakly.

"Oh yes I do," Munda retorted. "I'm your mother. It's written all over your face. But you don't need two eyes either to see how much you want that boy."

Leela sighed. "I can't explain Fry. I can't even say I was drunk. It just happened, okay? He was yapping on about some stupid movie, and I just . . . he just . . . he can be so . . ."

She trailed off hopelessly. How could she explain it? She didn't understand it herself. Fry hadn't even been trying to impress her, let alone seduce her. One minute he was goofing around, the next she wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting anything. In that moment, everything else could have gone to hell so long as he was hers.

And it did, she told herself. Remember that?

It had been a mistake. Of course it had. Yet every time she thought about it her brain seemed to shut down, throwing flashbacks at her until she could feel him, see him, hear him, taste him all over again, and suddenly some part of her wasn't so sure.

Leela chewed her lip distractedly.

"I could use a drink. Have you guys got any Slurm?"

Morris shook his head. "We don't get that down here. But the water gets pretty green down by Old Filthful, if you -"

"No! I mean, no thanks, Dad. I'm not that thirsty. It's just a little hot in here, that's all." The cyclops swallowed. "Um. What were we saying?"

Morris shrugged. "I'm not sure. You kinda took a detour. You sure you're okay, sweetie?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Totally fine. A-okay. Now let's change the subject."

"Uh-huh," Munda said shrewdly. "Mmm-hmm."

Leela glared. "Alright, fine!" she snapped. "It's not so absurd to say I want Fry. But it's completely irrelevant. He's not a choice, Mom! He's Fry. He's not . . ."

She waved her hands, casting about for the right word.

"Dependable?" her mother offered. "Reliable? Financially solvent?"

"Exactly!"

"Mature?" Munda suggested. "Confident? Responsible?"

"Finally, you're seeing what I see."

Morris laughed. "Sometimes you two scare me." He leaned in close and nudged his daughter in the ribs, pretending to whisper. "Don't tell your mother, but I'm still not those things."

Munda rolled her eye. "Don't I know it! What am I always saying? Don't shed your skin on the couch, Morris! And does he listen? I tell you, I'm married to the biggest slob in the sewer."

Morris threw his hands up in self-defence.

"Hey, hey, hey! If you can't shed a little skin in your own home, where can you shed it?"

"You see what I have to put up with? Where is the logic in that, I ask you?"

Leela tugged absentmindedly at her wrist device, ignoring the question. Her parents' bickering usually made her smile, but today it was just giving her a headache. She cleared her throat.

"I, uh, feel a little funny. I'm gonna run to the bathroom. "

Munda nodded vaguely down the hall. "Oh. Sure, honey, go ahead. I just finished sweeping somebody's toenail clippings outta the tub."

Morris made an indignant reply to this, but by then Leela was at the far end of the hall and had tuned out out of the conversation. She was so distracted, in fact, that when she passed the guest bedroom, she almost didn't see her husband asleep on the bed.

Almost.