A / N : Sad news, everyone! They canned Futurama. :(

Thanks to - MB Jones, cactusgirlie, and dia!

Now back to Fry.

Fry jerked awake at the sound of his name. He'd been sleeping on something warm and sweet-smelling, and he felt . . . happy, he supposed. Which was weird, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up feeling happy. He wondered what had caused it.

"Did someone say Fry?" he mumbled.

"No," a familiar voice told him. "Go back to sleep."

Leela, his mind supplied.

"Oh . . . okay, Leela."

He settled back down. Of course it was Leela.

No-one made him as happy as Leela.

No-one made him as unhappy as Leela either, he noted blearily, and then wondered why he'd thought that. Why would he think about that, when Leela was right here, warm and close and real, the way she never was in his dreams. He breathed her in, tightening his hold and . . . wait, what?

Fry sprang away from her as his brain finally processed the situation. He crashed to the floor, which would probably have hurt if he wasn't still in shock.

"Wait, Leela?" he cried.

"Damn," Leela said. For a split second Fry thought she was talking to someone on her wrist device, but her next words banished this impression. There was no way they could be aimed at anyone but him.

"What did you do that for, you idiot?" she snapped. "You just slept off a concussion, do you want another one?"

A concussion? This sounded vaguely familiar. Not that it would be the first time. He was pretty prone to head injuries. But no, now he could remember Leela, and a hot-dog . . . or a punch-bag . . . and then she'd taken him home . . .

Leela was sighing, but Fry wasn't paying attention, because his memory of the night before had just returned with the force of a thunderclap.

Leela loved him. She loved him.

That was the good part, the part that had sent his world spinning on its axis. But oh, wait, here came the bad part.

She loves Lars too. And he's you. Older, smarter you.

Leela was still talking.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked. "What's the Professor's first name?"

"Professor," Fry said distractedly. He was still reeling from last night's revelations. "And I don't know how many fingers, I don't remember."

"That was your laziest effort yet," Leela reprimanded him.

She was using her ordinary tone, the one she used to admonish him when he did something wrong at work. She probably thought acting normally would keep him calm, but it wasn't working. She'd just admitted she loved him, and now she wanted to act like things were normal? They were a long way from normal, and Fry knew exactly who to blame.

He stood up and brushed himself off. He had never been so angry.

And you thought you hated Lars before, he thought. Boy, were you wrong.

"Okay," he said brightly. "How's this : You love me and you married me and Lars is me, and now I'm going to go punch him in the face. How's my brain working now?"

Leela's expression flickered.

"As usual, it's not."

"Great," Fry shot back. "Then I'm back to normal. Let's go!"

He took her hands and pulled her up off the couch, animated by a sudden manic energy. He was going to hit Lars and hit him and then hit him some more. Lars would probably hit him back, but that was okay, because there was no way anything could feel worse than this.

The one thing he'd ever wanted – the one thing – and Lars had stolen it from him. And it wasn't just Leela he'd taken. It was Seymour and Yancy and his parents too ; everything Fry had left behind in the 20th century, everyone he'd ever loved who'd loved him back. If what Leela had told him was true, then Lars had spent 12 years in his old life. Twelve years. They hadn't even missed Fry, because they'd had the time-duplicate all along. It was like being punched in the guts. Fry had sometimes been jealous of his duplicate and the happy life he must have lived in the past – but every time that had started to hurt, he'd reminded himself of the one thing his duplicate couldn't have had : Leela. Even when he'd thought Leela would never love him back, it had still been a comfort to be near her, and he'd still felt sorry for his duplicate, who he'd thought had gone the rest of his life without her.

But Lars had got her too. He'd got everything. Everything Fry ever loved, everything he'd ever wanted. He had never, ever, hated someone so much.

"I'm going to kill him," he said.

Leela jerked her hands out of his and folded her arms, glaring at him.

"No," she said furiously, "you're not."

"Yes I am!"

"And how are you going to do that? You don't know where he is."

"You could tell me," Fry shot back.

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

Annoyance flashed across Leela's features.

"Because I love him," she snapped. "I'm not letting you hurt him, and I'm not letting him hurt you either. So knock it off."

Fry stared at her, breathing heavily.

Oh, sure, he thought bitterly. Knock it off.

"How am I supposed to do that?" he demanded. "I'm supposed to just not be mad? Well I am! I'm really mad!"

His fists were clenched and he yearned to smash something, do something . . . anything to get his feelings out.

Leela was the only thing he could focus on. There was less than a foot of space between them. He watched her chest rise and fall, color flooding her cheeks as she sucked up his own anger and sent it back at him. She was so beautiful and it hurt, hurt like someone had ripped out his insides.

"Leave him," he said raggedly. "Just . . . leave him. Be with me. Please."

He had asked her this before, without any hope, but he was begging now. He didn't care.

"Please," he said again.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Leela scowled. Apparently his stubborness was getting to her.

"I told you," she said tightly. "I love him."

Fry felt his anger boil over.

"Why?" he demanded. "Why do you care so much about his feelings? He lied to you for two whole years! And I've been nothing but honest with you and you won't even give me a chance!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in close, staring into her eye.

"I love you," he said ruthlessly. "I love you, I love you, I love you! Tell me you don't love me too!"

Leela opened her mouth but couldn't seem to get the words out.

And then her mouth was on his and she was kissing him, hard. Fry didn't know if he had started it or if she had, but he didn't really care. They were kissing like it was some new type of warfare, each vying for dominance, and the blood was pounding in his ears. Fry was standing up straight for once and he had his hands buried in Leela's hair, pulling her up on her toes. Leela's fingers were digging into his shoulderblades. Hard. Desperate. Like she never wanted to let him go. When she ground her hips against his erection Fry's head swam and he stumbled, breaking the kiss to suck in air. Leela seized his moment of weakness and pounced, her hands working deftly at his belt buckle. She wrapped her fingers around his length and pulled him into another angry kiss – and then she squeezed. Fry yelped at the pressure. It hurt, he thought muzzily, but it was definitely a good hurt.

Kind of like the whole thing, really.

He wrapped both arms around Leela's waist and picked her up, letting her unbalance him so they fell back onto the couch. Leela growled at the interruption and reached out to finish what she'd started.

But the part of Fry's brain not completely crazed by lust was being controlled by anger. Leela kept doing this to him, and she always won. She was always in control, even when she didn't seem to realize what she was doing. When she wanted him she got him, because she was too much for him to say no to. Did she even know how that felt?

You're not winning this time, he thought. The hell you are.

He was powerless against Leela because he loved her, but that could give him the upper hand too. He knew her - and what he hadn't known, he'd paid close attention to. The first time they'd made love, that night by the ship, Leela had seemed almost possessed, like she was working to a mental checklist of things she wanted to do to him before her time ran out. But Fry had been busy committing her to memory, etching every detail into his brain. The second time, at Amy's engagement party, had been a blur for both of them, but Fry did remember being angry, and he remembered doing certain things that seemed to drive Leela crazy.

He kissed her neck and her eyelid fluttered, her breath hitching with a tiny "oh" sound as he sucked at the delicate skin of her collarbone. He slipped a hand between her legs and continued kissing her. She shuddered as his fingers worked a slow, deliberate pattern. It was killing him not to let her touch him, but it was worth it, because he definitely had the upper hand now. His thumb swirled across her clit and Leela convulsed around him.

"Sweet zombie Jesus-" she gasped. "Enough, enough – oh, god . . ."

She kissed him violently, urgently, and tugged him off the couch onto the floor. The sudden bump brought Fry back to himself long enough to realize he was forgetting something.

"Wait, wait," he panted. His hand flailed wildly, grasping at his jacket, at the coffee table . . . finally his fumbling fingers closed around what he was searching for.

Leela growled.

"Don't stop – what are you – ah!"

She lapsed into incoherency, angrily tugging him toward her. When she took hold of him again Fry yelped. He pressed the condom into her hand, seeing stars, and finally gave in.

It was over too fast after that.

Leela opened her eye as he collapsed the floor beside her. They lay side-by-side, listening to their own shaky breath.

"Uh . . ."

It was all Fry could manage.

Leela closed her eye and moaned.

"What's wrong with us?" she mumbled. "What the hell are we thinking?"

"I-" Fry started to say, but Leela stopped him.

"Don't," she said. "Don't say it. I can't-."

"It's still true if I don't say it." Fry pointed out. "I love-"

"Don't."

Leela sat up abruptly.

"This can't happen again," she insisted. "It can't. It's bad enough it happened once."

"Twice," Fry corrected.

"What?"

"It happened twice," he reminded her. "Amy's engagement party, remember?"

"Twice, fine-" Leela began. She shifted slightly and the condom wrapper crinkled under her hand. She looked down at it and stopped talking. "It-" She stopped again.

"What?"

"I . . . we . . . that other time . . ." She shook her head. "No. Nothing. Forget it."

Fry scowled.

"Let me guess," he said bitterly. "You forgot to tell Lars about that one."

Leela was staring into thin air. She had gone pale, and looked a little sick.

"I can't remember," she said distantly. "But I must have – we must have – I would never be that stupid. . . I wouldn't. Surely."

"Wouldn't what?"

Leela shook herself.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Leela said firmly. "I'm fine." She laughed unsteadily. "Of course I am."

Fry propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her. Her hair was curling loosely about her shoulders and her lipstick was smudged. Beneath it her lips were shaking. She kept swallowing, pressing them together as she fought to get her breath back, but she couldn't seem to calm down. Fry had never seen her look so demolished. She looked a little crazy, actually.

There was a hickey blooming on her breast. When he touched it, she winced.

"Sorry," he murmured, but when he went to kiss the spot, Leela pushed him away.

Fry flopped back onto the rug and watched in a disconnected way as Leela searched frantically for her clothes.

"This can't happen again," she panted, as she yanked her tank top over her head.

"You keep saying that," Fry reminded her. "And it keeps happening."

Leela threw his pants at him, but he ignored them.

"It wouldn't be a problem if you were with me," he pointed out. "Why is that such a crazy idea?"

"Are you going to get dressed at all?"

Fry disregarded this.

"I mean it," he persisted. "What's so wrong with me? Okay, so I have that brain thing, but who cares? You're smart enough for both of us. And we're pretty much even on the crazy."

When Leela pushed his shirt at him he caught her hand.

"I'm serious," he said. "You won't even think about it but this-" - he gestured at the space between them - "keeps happening, and I'm not doing it on my own, so you must like me a little-"

"Fry." Leela interrupted him, her eye blazing. "Just stop."

"No! You don't even care what you're doing to me, you just care about Lars – ow!"

Leela had slapped him.

"I don't like you," she snapped. "I love you. Of course I care about Lars, you idiot – he is you! I can't hurt him any more than I can hurt you! Because I love you both. Do you know what that's doing to me? Do you have any idea what that's like?" She paused, breathing hard. "Polygamy might be constitutional, but there's a reason no-one in their right mind would try it. I hate myself no matter what I do."

Fry rubbed his cheek. "That hurt," he muttered.

Leela flushed. "When I said I couldn't hurt you, I meant . . . emotionally. Obviously I can't be held accountable for my-"

"Crazy temper," Fry finished for her.

"Yes."

Fry shrugged. "That's okay. I don't blame you for that. It's one of the things that makes you you. Also it's kind of hot."

"That's not helping," Leela told him.

"Nothing I do helps," Fry complained.

Leela turned away from him, tugging her fingers through her hair in an attempt to fix it. She groaned as her fingers snagged on another tangle.

"What did you do to me?" she muttered.

"There's a comb in one of my comic-books," Fry offered. "I needed to mark my place," he explained, when she stared at him.

Leela picked up the comb and rolled her eye.

"Fry . . . you're on page two."

"Yeah . . . I kept getting distracted. I hate reading, anyway. It's too much like thinking."

Leela snorted. "It's a comic. It's ninety per cent pictures, for crying out loud. How distracted can you get?"

Fry started to dress. He needed something to do with his hands, and it gave him a good excuse not to look at Leela.

"I kept reading the same page over and over," he said truthfully. "The words wouldn't go in. I kept thinking about you instead."

Leela fell silent.

"Fry," she said hesitantly. "This - us - it can't happen. Tell me you know that."

"But-"

"Tell me you know that."

"But what if you and Lars get divorced?" Fry persisted. "Then-"

"No." Leela pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're getting divorced anyway, but that doesn't matter. None of it does. This can't happen, Fry. No matter what."

"Wait – so you're not choosing me, but you're not choosing him either? That doesn't make any sense," Fry argued. "You have to choose someone."

Leela scowled.

"I don't need a man to make me happy," she said waspishly. "I don't know what kind of sexist crap they fed you back in the Stupid Ages, but -"

"Hey, I'm not being sexist!" Fry objected. "I don't think you need some guy to make you happy. I just think you need . . . you know. Someone you love."

There was a leaden silence.

"Then I guess I won't be happy," Leela said eventually. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Don't worry about me, Fry. I'm a woman in New New York. Single and lonely is not a new concept for me. Besides, I've got Nibbler, and that spin class I take on Thursdays. I won't even have time to think about it."

"Uh . . ." Fry wanted to tell her she wasn't kidding anyone, but this tragic attempt to reassure him seemed to matter to Leela, and he didn't have the heart to disagree with her. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked instead. "I still love you."

Leela's face did that funny shut-down thing again.

"Then love someone else."

"What?"

"You heard me. Love someone else." She folded her arms. "We can't be together and I won't let you waste the rest of your life pining after me. Get out there and find someone else, Fry. This town's full of desperate single ladies, it shouldn't be too hard."

"I don't want to," Fry argued.

"Well, maybe that's your problem."

"What do you mean?"

Leela sighed.

"How many people have you dated since you met me?" she asked.

"Hey!" Fry said defensively. "I dated loads of people. And, y'know . . . some girls. "

Leela rolled her eye.

"Sure thing, stud," she deadpanned. "Answer me this : how many of those relationships were your idea, and how many did you just fall into without thinking?"

Fry blinked.

"Well . . . there was Michelle . . ."

"Oh please," Leela scoffed. "You were the only thing she recognized when she fell out of that cryo-tube – that was the only reason she wanted to be with you! She dumped you quick enough for Pauly Shore, remember? Give me another."

"Whatsername, the mermaid. Umbriel."

"She was a mermaid, for Pete's sake. Who in the hell thought that would work? Keep going."

"What about Amy?"

Leela snorted. "The ship gets around less than she does. Let's not even go there."

"Uh . .. I guess Morgan Proctor doesn't really count?"

"That was sexual harrassment on her side and sheer pathetic-ness on yours. Next."

"Well . . . I really liked that Liu-bot I downloaded . . ."

Leela closed her eye, the way she always did when she was praying for salvation from his stupidity.

"It was a robot programmed to tell you things you wanted to hear. That was not a meaningful relationship, Fry. Next."

"Colleen, I guess. And then Yivo."

Leela's expression flickered, distorted for a second by genuine anger.

"No," she snapped. "Collen was a greedy slut, and Yivo was . . . a greedy slut, now that I think about it. And they both took advantage of you."

"What? No they didn't!"

Leela groaned. "Oh, lord, do I have to explain that too?" She poked him in the chest. "You were dying of oxygen-deprivation and depressed enough to leave the universe. Gee, you're right. You must have known exactly what you were doing when you stuck a tentacle in your spinal cord and hooked Yivo up with our universe."

Fry flinched. Leela's sarcasm was caustic.

"Okay," he conceded. "So Yivo was a little . . . maybe I didn't know what I was doing. But Colleen and me was different. That was totally my call."

"She had four other boyfriends and you seriously considered staying. If that doesn't say 'I'm desperately lonely and have serious issues', I don't know what does. And if you think that little skank didn't zero in on your insecurities to feed her slutty ego, you're wrong. "

Fry threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine!" he cried. "I'm a loser and all my relationships suck! Is there a point to this or are you just trying to make me feel bad?"

Bizarrely, this seemed to soften Leela. She sat down beside him on the couch.

"There was a point," she said gently. "Fry, your relationships suck because you pick bad relationships. I used to think that was just further proof you're a complete idiot, but now I'm not so sure. Now I think maybe you screw things up because you don't want them to work out. You never have, because some part of you is so stubborn it won't give up on me. You keep hoping I'll change my mind somehow."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"It is. It's stopping you from moving on with your life." Leela gripped his hand fiercely. "You spend your whole life wishing and hoping, and this time there's nothing to hope for." She shook her head. "It's over, Fry. For once, just let it go. Please."

Fry stared at her. She wasn't going to back down, he realized. Not now, not ever. He was glad he was sitting down, because it felt like the world was spinning under his feet. Slowly, deliberately, he tugged his hand out of hers.

"I think you should go," he said numbly.

"I'm sorry," Leela said softly.

"I know. I still think you should go."

Fry somehow managed to stand up and open the door for her. He stood there rigidly, waiting for her to leave. Leela gathered up her coat. She looked worried, like she was going to tell him not to do something stupid, but Fry felt like he was looking at her through glass, like she was an actor on tv or a memory in his head. She was a million miles away and he was stuck in cold hard reality.

Alone.