A / N : I meant to post this a few days ago but there was a heatwave and I was lazy. I went outside with beer instead of staying in and typing up more fic. (I know, not living up to my username here. Bite me.)

Does anyone know if there's a chapter limit for stories on this site? This looks like it's going to be long and I'm thinking I should maybe split it or do a sequel.

Thanks to , Anna, Guest, Already There, child who is cool, and cartoonlover27 for the reviews! (Saffron : that was one of my favorite lines to write. Thanks!)

"Leela. Leela."

Leela groaned. She had fallen asleep again. She'd been doing it for the past two weeks. In front of the TV, at the breakfast table . . . then she'd woken up to find her cheek stuck to the side of the ship. She'd been snoring, oblivious, on the wing, as the hose drooped in her hand and water began to fill her boots. After that Lars and the crew had conspired to stop her flying, for everyone's safety. So now she was grounded, stuck watching daytime television and trying to stay awake long enough to stop Lars worrying.

"I'm awake," she mumbled. "I'm awake. I was just resting my eye."

She sat up slowly, having learned the hard way that sudden movements tended to make her vomit. Her morning sickness was getting worse and worse. It lasted all day now, and none of the remedies Amy had looked up on the internet – ginger, peppermint tea, eating breakfast, skipping breakfast, yogalates – seemed to help.

"What is it?"

She blinked away the sleep in her eye and Lars came into focus. He must have just come in from outside. He was damp, and he smelled like a mixture of city rain and the falafel stand on the corner, where he must have stopped for lunch. He had dressed carelessly. The collar of his shirt was crumpled and the two stains on his pants (yellow mustard and blue ink, respectively) marked them out as the pair he'd been wearing yesterday. Two of his fingers were splinted and taped together. There was probably some crazy story behind that, but right now Leela had bigger things on her mind.

"You found Fry," she said hopefully.

It was a wild guess, but it still hurt when Lars shook his head.

"No," he said. "He hasn't been by the circus, or the merchant marines, or any of the top five escort agencies, and there aren't any good cults in town. I'm running out of ideas here." He hesitated. "He doesn't have a hovercar. If he hitched a ride with someone, he could be anywhere."

Leela swung her legs off the couch and sat up properly.

"I could put out a warrant for his arrest," she mused. "He's complicit in at least nine crimes. Insurance fraud, concealing stolen goods, associating with a known felon . . ."

Lars raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Bender committed insurance fraud?"

"No, I did."

"Oh." Lars sat down. "Well, I woke you because Bender was looking for you. He's-"

"Hey, big boots!"

Bender entered the room so quickly Leela could only assume he'd been listening outside. He elbowed Lars out of the way and took the spot next to Leela on the couch.

"You look like something the cat sicked up," he said conversationally.

Leela scowled and aimed a punch at his chest compartment. It left a good-sized dent, but Bender didn't seem to mind.

"Still true," he said smugly.

Leela sighed.

"What do you want, Bender?"

To her surprise the robot avoided her gaze, looking suddenly bashful.

"Amy says I should be nicer to you, seeing as you've got Fry's junk in your trunk and all."

Great. Amy was feeling sorry for her.

"You really don't have to," Leela said shortly. "Are we done here?"

Bender squirmed.

"Aw, jeez . . . look, if you tell anyone this I'll deny it . . . but Fry's crazy about you, and I don't hate you. I mean, you're not on the Do-Not-Kill list or anything, and if there was a zombie apocalypse I'd totally sacrifice you . . . but not right away. You see what I'm trying to say?"

Leela blinked.

"Bender, that's so sweet. I'm touched."

"Ugh. Don't get soppy on me, eyeball!"

"I'm not."

Leela pretended to adjust her cushion and sternly squashed the urge to cry. Damn you, hormones, she thought hopelessly. Bender is not cute. He's a sociopathic, soulless kleptomaniac. Get a hold of yourself!

If Bender thought her eye was unusually shiny when she turned back around, he was wise enough not to comment on it. He poked her curiously in the stomach.

"So . . . is it a Leela or a Fry you're cooking in there?"

Leela swatted him away.

"It's not cooking there. It's a lot lower down. Don't touch." She slapped the robot's hand. "And you're thinking of clones. It doesn't work like that."

"It doesn't, huh? So, if it's not a Leela and it's not a Fry, what is it? What's the blueprint?"

"It's something else. A little of both of us, I suppose. There's not really a blueprint. At least, not the kind you're thinking of."

"Hmm." Bender mulled this over. "Sounds sloppy. You humans call that creation?"

"For want of a better word."

"Amateurs." Bender snorted derisively. A new thought struck him. "Will it be as annoying as Cubert?"

"No!"

Leela and Lars had spoken at the same time, mutually outraged. They made eye contact briefly, reddened, and quickly looked away. Bender didn't seem to notice.

"Whatever," he said dismissively. "Anyhow, I made you this card to show you there are no hard feelings. Here."

He pressed the card into her hand.

"Uh . . . thanks," Leela said.

She and Lars stared down at the card, at a loss for something better to say.

"'Congratulations On Your Impending Bastard'," she read aloud. "That's so . . . so . . ."

"I made it myself," Bender told her.

"I can tell."

"And that's Calculon's signature I forged on the inside there. That's worth forty bucks on eBay."

"I don't know what to say."

Bender grinned and pulled a beer out of his compartment.

"It's the greatest card you ever got and you know it," he said easily. "Wanna toast the occasion with a beer?"

Leela frowned. "Bender, I'm pregnant. I can't drink alcohol."

The robot stared at her in disbelief.

"You can't?"

"No."

Bender whistled.

"Wow. Your life just got even suckier." He glugged down his beer. "Well, I'm bored now. I'm gonna go check if Fry came home. Maybe he's hiding in the crapper. I haven't looked there in a few days. Hold on buddy," he hollered. "I'm comin'!"

He rushed out. Leela sighed and settled back into the couch. It took a minute for her to realize she'd actually settled back against Lars, who was toying with her fingers as he thought.

"He must really miss Fry," he said sadly.

"Huh?" Leela started. She'd been listening to Lars' heart. For a moment it had been all she wanted to hear. "Oh, you mean Bender," she said guiltily. "Yes. Yes, he must."

She pulled away with an effort. She felt a pang in her chest, watching her husband's hand close on empty air, but told herself it was better this way. For all of them.

Leela drew her knees up, curling into a defensive ball on the far side of the couch.

"Why haven't you told him?" she asked.

"That I'm Fry?" Lars shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to. Besides, I'm not the Fry he wants." He shot her a questioning look. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"I don't know. I guess I don't want to." Leela hesitated. "Is that weird?"

"Everything about this is weird," Lars pointed out.

"Good point." The cyclops chewed her lip. "Do you think we should tell people?" she asked.

Lars shrugged.

"Not really. I mean, we know, and Fry knows, and your parents know. How many more people need to know?" He paused. "But I'm used to not telling people, and it hasn't worked out too well. Maybe it's a bad habit."

Leela couldn't deny this.

"Maybe," she admitted.

"But you don't want to tell people either," Lars said.

It wasn't an accusation. It was more like he was testing the waters, probing to see how she felt.

The trouble was, she didn't know.

"I think we should leave it a while," Leela decided at last. "At least until we know how Fry feels. It only seems fair to ask him. This is his mess as much as ours."

Lars nodded.

"That makes sense. I'll keep looking." He stood up to leave. "Don't worry," he said awkwardly. "We'll find him."

Leela smiled.

"Of course we will. I'm not worried," she lied, and if Lars suspected it was a lie, he was wise enough not to comment.