Lars winced.

Skreem was taking his cast off. After six weeks of hobbling around the sewer on crutches, he was glad to see the back of it. He just wished the mutant medi-center had an electric saw. As it was, Skreem was attacking the hardened plaster with a hacksaw. Every time she dragged it back and set it into the groove again, he felt the bone underneath jar.

He set his teeth, determined not to mention this to the mutant girl.

"Where's Leela?" he asked instead.

Skreem put the saw to one side.

"She's in a meeting. Everyone important went. I think it's about rationing."

She pried the cast apart and examined his leg. Lars thought it looked pretty good, considering. The intense purple bruising had faded to an ugly greenish yellow, and the upper layer of his skin – the one that had been scraped away by a rusted sewer ladder - had grown back.

"How do you feel?" Skreem asked.

Lars shrugged.

"Okay, I guess. A little tender."

"That's normal. Can you put weight on it?"

Lars grinned.

"Time to find out."

He swung himself off the hospital bed and stood up. The leg took his weight okay, but when he went to take a step forward it spasmed strangely. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable either.

He could walk, but he couldn't put both feet flat on the floor.

He made an ungainly lap of the room and returned to lean on the iron bedstead with one hand.

Skreem was watching him. She was biting her lip, worrying the dry skin with her teeth. It was a nervous habit Lars had come to recognize.

"It didn't set properly," she said.

"What?"

"Your leg," Skreem explained. "It didn't set right."

"Oh." Lars considered this. "So when do I stop limping?"

There was a long silence.

And then it hit him.

"I – you mean I don't? Ever?"

Skreem's teeth sliced through her bottom lip and drew a bead of blood. She sucked it up and swallowed hard, looking as if she was trying hard not to cry.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.

"What?"

"It's my fault. I set it wrong. I – I tried, Mr Filmore, I really did, but I couldn't see the break so I had to guess, and I – I guessed wrong, it didn't heal right . . ." Her eyes started to swim. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . . please don't hate me."

Lars stared at her.

"Why would I hate you?" he asked, bewildered.

"Because . . . you're not perfect anymore," the little mutant girl stammered. "I ruined you."

For the most part, Lars liked the future. He always had. Sure, he missed Christmas and his family and 20th century pop culture . . . but the future had robots and aliens and interplanetary space travel. It had always seemed like the things he missed were personal, but the things he'd gained were part of a bigger picture. A better world.

But lately he'd started to think maybe the future wasn't a better world after all. Maybe it was the same old world, with the same old rottenness underneath.

How else could he explain the mutants, starving and under siege in the sewer? Or Skreem, who had dedicated the whole of her short life to helping people – who couldn't even resent her own mother for tossing her in a lake and leaving her to drown – but who thought she wasn't worth anything? Who apologized every time she touched him, and stared at him blankly when he used the phrase "only human" because she didn't understand how "human" could be synonymous with "flawed"?

She was fourteen. She was a child. A child, and a mutant. If they didn't win this war, then she was what Leela's baby would grow up to be, what his baby would –

No, he reminded himself, not your baby. Fry's baby.

Leela's baby.

Leela's baby was the best way to think of it. His head hurt less when he thought of it that way. His feelings for Leela had always been simple, after all. He loved her, and it was impossible to imagine not loving something that was part of her.

He sighed.

"You shouldn't say things like that," he told Skreem. "Humans aren't all we're cracked up to be. Trust me."

He chucked her under the chin, and was relieved to see her smile.

"Anyway," he went on. "This isn't the first bone I've broken. I know you're supposed to rest them, and I didn't exactly do that, did I?"

Skreem gave him a watery smile, wiping away her tears.

"No," she conceded. "You were a terrible patient, actually."

"See?" Lars nudged her elbow, happy that she seemed to have stopped crying. "Not your fault. Not even a little. So don't beat yourself up about it, okay?"

Skreem sniffed.

"You're so nice," she said quietly. "Why are you always so nice to me?"

Lars shrugged, unable to look her in the eye.

"I know what it's like to be alone," he said awkwardly. "I know what it's like to feel like you don't fit in." He ran a hand over his face; feeling suddenly old, and tired in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar. "But I'm not nice. Or perfect either, jeez. I'm a liar and a fraud, and the more I try and make it right . . ." He trailed off, aware that this was a road he didn't want to start down. "Forget it. Don't listen to me, Skreem. I'm just feeling sorry for myself."

He could feel the mutant girl watching him, trying to make sense of what he'd just said.

"Did you – did you lie to Leela?" she said carefully. "Is that why – why the baby happened? Why it isn't yours?"

"Maybe." Lars threw his head back, staring up at the crusted tiles on the ceiling. "Maybe not." He swallowed hard, aware of the lump forming in his throat. "She loves him."

More than she loves me.

It was the thing he tried his hardest not to think. But it was still there, beating an insistent tattoo at the back of his brain, and he couldn't shake it.

The nights he slept at the Turangas' (tossing and turning on their lumpy couch) he was lulled to sleep by the sound of Leela's relentless pacing, and jerked awake in the small hours of the morning by her calling out his name. It was hard to shake the habits of a lifetime, and most nights he was halfway to her room before he realized she'd called for Fry - and he was no longer Fry. Those nights he woke her as quickly as he could and made some excuse for why he was already up. Mostly Leela seemed grateful for the interruption, and sat up listening to him talk about nothing until sleep overtook her again.

But some nights waking her didn't pull her out of the grip of the nightmare fast enough. Some nights she reached for him, boneless with relief, and only then realized who he was. There was a tiny spark of hope in her eye that flared and then died in those moments, and it turned his insides to ash.

Skreem was shaking her head.

"Leela loves you," she insisted. "Even if you did lie to her. She smiles at you."

Lars snorted.

"Oh yeah. That proves it."

"And she tries to keep you safe. That's what you do for people you love." Skreem hesitated. "Isn't it?"

Lars had a sudden vision of Leela panicking the day that ladder had collapsed under him and he'd almost died. He felt a stab of guilt. He wasn't being fair to her.

"You're right," he told Skreem. "I shouldn't have laughed at you." He squeezed her shoulder, dislodging skin flakes. "That is what you do for people you love. But me and Leela . . . it's complicated."

"I don't understand."

"I love Leela, and Leela loves – she loves Fry. Philip. Whoever. It doesn't -"He stopped, distracted by a commotion outside. "Who's yelling?"

Skreem hopped off her chair and darted to the window to peer out.

"It's Leela's robot friend," she called back, her voice slightly muffled by the curtain. "And the girl who wears pink all the time. The pretty one. I think they're fighting."

Lars groaned. He picked up his crutch and hauled himself to his feet.

"You'd better get the door."

Bender and Amy were indeed fighting. By the time Lars made it outside with Skreem, hey were standing a foot apart, yelling in each other's faces.

"This has nothing to do with me and Kif!" Amy was saying furiously. "He wanted to see Leela and I said I'd make it happen! That doesn't mean I'm getting back together with him! You're being totally paranoid, Bender!"

Bender's arms were flailing wildly.

"Ohhh, am I? Am I really?"

"Yes!"

"I find that hard to believe!"

"Now you sound like a crazy person -"

"Oh, now I'm cr-azy -"

"Stop it, Bender! Spleesh! Leela's going to have a baby, and she needs our help. That's more important than your ego -"

"WHAT?!"

Lars sighed. Appealing against Bender's ego never worked. Selflessness was a concept the robot just didn't understand.

Leela and Amy had never grasped that. They dealt with Bender's ego trips by trying to shout him into submission, or make him feel guilty - which was about as effective as taking a blowtorch to a glacier. They had never understood that the best way to handle him was to do what Fry did, and accept everything the robot said as fact. If you agreed right away that Bender was the most important thing in the universe, you saved yourself hours of argument. Fry might be slow, but it had taken him no time at all to learn that. Sometimes he wondered why the rest of the world hadn't caught on.

Anyway, things had obviously gone too far for that tactic now. His only hope of diffusing the situation was distraction.

"Amy! Bender!" he said loudly. "It's so great to see you!"

He waved at them, grinning madly.

"Oh! Hi, Lars!" The smile Amy returned was just as over-the-top. "Stop it, Bender," she hissed. "Don't embarrass me in front of Lars."

"Me? Embarrass – what the – me -"

Bender spluttered incoherently in the background as Amy stepped forward to hug Lars. She didn't look to be wearing even half the required amount of clothing for the time of year, but she felt warm. She smelled like expensive perfume and fresh, cool air from the surface. Breathing her in was like taking a really clean breath for the first time in weeks.

Amy smiled more naturally when they pulled apart.

"It's good to see you too," she said. She sighed. "I need to talk to Leela. And . . . Kif's here. He wants to see her."

Lars frowned.

"Kif? Did he find Fry?"

"No. And it's not a trap," Amy assured him. "I made sure of that. Nixon didn't send him. He came himself, because he knows something about Fry. Or he says he does. And it's the best lead we have, so . . ." She shrugged.

Lars nodded.

"So Leela'll want to hear it," he finished. "She's in a meeting right now, but Skreem can take you to her parents' place and go get her, if you want."

"Sounds like a plan!" Amy's smile flickered only briefly when she saw her scaly tour guide. "Hi, Skreem," she said politely. "Um, lead the way!"

With a last pointed glare at Bender, she left.

Half an hour later, Bender was still fuming to himself. It was hard to make out complete sentences, but the words "bald-head kook", "wimpy phlegm wad", and "metal Adonis" did crest the wave of muttering, and provided an overview of the robot's current grievances.

Lars eased himself into an abandoned wheelchair and stared up into the dark. He could wait Bender out.

He shut his eyes and tapped the fingers of his left hand on the arm rest, using his good leg to roll the chair back and forth. It turned his mind pleasantly blank.

He had that feeling again. Old. Tired. Like his mind didn't fit his body. Like his life didn't fit anymore. He was slipping. Without the props - the Head Museum, the house, the Leela who didn't know about his past - it was hard to keep a hold of Lars. The person he'd been all these years – the Lars part of him – was starting to feel like a stranger. He couldn't exist without the life he'd built around him. But he couldn't go back either. He could remember being Fry, but every time he reached for that part of himself, it seemed to get further away. There were twelve years of loneliness between him and the person he'd been, twelve years of mourning his friends and lying to his family. They were like a scar he couldn't see, knotted inside him.

Not that life was much better now it was the other way round - now that he mourned his family and lied to his friends instead.

There was a heavy clunk as Bender sat down beside him. He popped open a can of beer and Lars opened his eyes, watching froth foam over the lip of the can.

"I miss beer," he said vaguely.

He hadn't had a drink since he returned to the future. He had always been too scared – first that he might give in to his own loneliness and find Leela before he was supposed to, and later that he might let something slip and she'd figure out who he really was. Getting drunk had been a risk he couldn't take. He hadn't thought about it in a long time, but suddenly he missed it – missed the way alcohol turned the world warm and fuzzy; missed the way it made him forget, for a while.

Bender snorted.

"Get your own, sad sack."

"I wish. You think we have beer down here? We don't even have food."

Bender lit a cigar.

"Cry me a river, skintube."

They lapsed into silence again.

"You know what I don't get?" he said abruptly, just when Lars was beginning to think the conversation was over.

"What?"

"Biological creatures," Bender spat. "When I ditch a fembot, she's done. Ancient history. But you humans – oh no. It can't ever be that simple. You have to pine and pine, and cry over it, and get back together - "

"Is this about Amy?"

Bender took a long drag of his cigar.

"Maybe," he said guardedly. "Maybe it's about all you flesh-sacks."

Lars sighed.

"You wouldn't understand, Bender. You've never been in love."

Bender bristled.

"I'm a mechanical Don Juan," he said hotly. "Who said I'm not?"

"Hey! No-one!" Lars held up a hand to placate him. "You're a love machine. No doubt about it. But you don't . . . I don't know. You don't feel things like humans do. You never wanted to spend your whole life with someone. You don't know how that feels. I mean, this thing with Amy . . . everyone knows it's not real. You're only marrying her for her money."

"And the hot robosexual lovin'," Bender interjected.

"Yeah. Uh. That." The idea of Amy and Bender in a physical relationship was still weird, even at this distance. Lars tried not to think about it. "But you don't love her," he continued. "Not the way Kif loved her. They have a history. You can't beat that."

Bender rolled his optics.

"History, schmistory." He crushed his cigar underfoot. "All I want is for one puny meatbag to think I'm the greatest," he declared. "Is that so much to ask?"

"I -"

Bender jumped to his feet without waiting for an answer.

"I'm a charismatic triumph of form and function! Aren't I?"

"Well, yeah -"

"It would be impossible to improve on me!"

"Of cour -"

The robot stopped suddenly, seized by a new idea.

"Unless."

Lars frowned. This conversation was moving too fast for him to follow, but he wasn't sure he liked the direction it was headed in. There was something ominous about that "unless".

"Unless what?"

"Hmm." Bender was back to ignoring him. "It's true my processors could run more efficiently. If I overclocked myself -"

"Over-what?"

" - I'd be unstoppable. A god among machines!"

He laughed maniacally.

"That sounds like a bad idea," Lars argued. "Maybe you should think about it – Bender! Bender!"

He lurched forward, trying to grab the robot's arm, but the shift in body weight sent the wheelchair spinning in the opposite direction, and by the time he'd untangled himself, Bender was already walking away.

"Bender!" he shouted uselessly. "Bender!"

It didn't do any good.

Yelling after Bender didn't bring him back, and Lars could no longer move fast enough to catch up to him.

Not that it would have made much difference if he had. Lars was no-one to Bender. Bender didn't seem to dislike him, as such – at least, no more than he disliked most humans – but he didn't like him either. To his former best friend, Lars was now as interesting as the layer of slime on the sewer walls. He was a background presence attached to Leela, that was all.

If Bender was planning some crazy new upgrade, someone else would have to talk him out of it.

Lars was jarred out of this train of thought as he drew closer to the Turanga's run-down shack and realized he could hear raised voices coming from inside. He could see Amy's silhouette through the ragged curtain – she was making agitated little movements and her voice had gone high and shrill, though Lars couldn't make out the words. She was either angry or worried. Or both. Leela, on the other side of the room, was standing stock still, her arms folded and her jaw set firmly. Defensive.

"You didn't need to know," she said, as Lars pushed open the door. "And it doesn't change anything now that you do know -"

"It changes everything!" Amy's voice was almost a scream.

Leela rolled her eye.

"You're being hysterical," she said flatly. "Don't you think we have more important things -"

She stopped talking abruptly at the look on Amy's face, and spun round to see what had caused it.

"Oh. Lars."

"Hey." Lars looked from one woman to the other. "You told her," he said slowly. It was the most obvious explanation for Leela's guilty expression, and Amy's apparent feeling of betrayal. "You told her I'm Fry."

Leela nodded. "I'm sorry."

Lars stared at Amy, trying to make sense of the expression on her face. She looked angry and hurt – which was okay, he was getting used to people looking at him like that – but there was something else there too.

Horror.

Lars made sense of the expression the same moment Amy tried to cover it. She turned away, like she couldn't stand to look at him anymore, and then she mumbled "I'm sorry" and fled the room.

Lars and the others stared after her in confusion. Kif – who had been sitting on the couch, cringing away from the argument - half stood, as if he wanted to follow her. Then he seemed to remember he wasn't her boyfriend anymore, and awkwardly sat back down again.

Leela began muttering darkly about what a drama queen Amy was, but Lars couldn't help noticing her hand had gone to her stomach, the way it did now when she was trying to reassure herself. He wondered if she felt the same sudden sense of unease he did.

Her thumb stroked nervously at the side of her stomach, and he couldn't stand it any more.

"It's okay," he said. "Forgot Amy." He touched her elbow, and watched some of the tension ebb away. "What happened?"

Leela took a deep breath, and pulled her arm away from him. She always did that now, when he tried to make her feel better. Lars couldn't decide if she didn't trust herself to get too close to him, or if she felt too guilty to let him comfort her.

Knowing Leela, probably both.

"Fry called," she said.

It was a body blow, but Lars recovered fast.

"Hey, that's . . . great. I told you he would. So where is he?" he asked. No point dragging it out.

"I'm not sure," Leela admitted. "He called from a Galactic Gas'n'Go in the middle of nowhere. And he didn't say much."

"Why not?"

"Because, uh . . . a man who was framed for mass murder tried to shoot him, under the influence of some kind of . . . mind-controlling pink blob."

Even Leela seemed to doubt the words coming out of her mouth.

Lars gaped at her. He had been expecting something like "Fry was drunk", or "he was broke", or even "someone knocked out all his teeth". Something more typical of Fry.

"Uh . . . can you repeat that?"

Leela sighed.

"It'll be faster if you just watch the recording," she said wearily.

The recording was both better and worse than Lars had anticipated.

Better, because his younger self wasn't dead. Worse, because he looked thin and disheveled, and Leela couldn't hide how much that worried her.

Better, because Fry didn't seem bitter or angry anymore . . . but worse, because his shoulders were squared and his jaw was set, and Lars recognized in his reflection all the symptoms of a grim new responsibility. The second he saw his younger self onscreen, he knew that whatever was coming for them, it was bad.

That sense of unease unfolded in him again.

He watched the recording through twice, then stared in silence at the empty spot where the projection had been.

Eventually the silence stretched on longer than Leela could stand.

"Please tell me you know what attacked him," she said. "Tell me you know what that thing is."

Lars blinked.

"Well . . yeah. It's a giant brain," he said at last.

"A what?"

"A giant brain," Lars repeated. "A Brainspawn. Whatever you wanna call it. It's a flying brain."

"Fry was attacked by giant brains," Leela echoed. She hesitated. "The universe is being threatened by giant brains."

"Basically."

Leela stared at him.

"I think you'd better start at the beginning."

"There's not much to tell." Lars shrugged. "It was years ago. Even more years ago for me."

"But you remember them?" Leela persisted. "You met them?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Giant flying brains came to Earth and made everyone stupid. But it didn't work on me." Lars cast his mind back, trying to remember. "And then you told me I had to fight them, so I did. I tricked them into leaving Earth for no raisin – I mean, reason." He frowned. "But when they were gone, everyone thought I was nuts. None of you remembered it."

"I still don't remember it," Leela said thoughtfully. "I was there?"

"Sure. You all were. You were dumb as a bag of hair – uh, no offense."

Leela seemed to confused to be offended. She regarded him carefully, her brow furrowed.

"And you were the only one the Brainspawn couldn't control?"

Lars shrugged again.

Leela went quiet.

"Why?" she said at last. "What's so special about you? About Fry?"

"I have no idea."

"And that's the only time you ever encountered these Brainspawn?"

"As far as I know."

"It doesn't make any sense. Why would the Brainspawn be quiet for so many years, and then start killing people? Why would they leave Fry alone for so long and then suddenly start trying to kill him? It's not like he's been in hiding."

Lars shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. It was starting to feel like a mantra.

Leela scowled, tugging at her hair in frustration.

"I don't like this," she said. "I don't understand it, and I don't like it. The Brainspawn must be planning something." She turned the holodisc over in her hands. "Fry's in danger. You're in danger. And I can't do a thing about it. I feel useless."

"You're not useless."

They both jumped at the third voice. Kif had faded into the background so expertly they had both forgotten he was still there. (Granted, his green skin and green off-duty clothing were almost the exact same shade as the walls. But Lars had the feeling Kif's unobtrusiveness was caused more by him simply being Kif.)

Still, he was speaking now, with an assertiveness Lars had rarely heard from him.

"You've never been useless, Leela," he said firmly. "You're fighting a war for your people's freedom. You're brave, and you're capable, and you – you have the courage of your convictions. You're a leader I would have been proud to serve under." He flushed a darker shade of green and seemed to become self-conscious again. "You're not useless," he said quietly.

"You're not," Lars agreed. "But you can't be everywhere, Leela. I know you care, but sometimes you have to let go and let people fight their own battles. If I'm in danger, I'll handle it. And if Fry's in danger . . . look, he's doing okay. Isn't he? I mean, he's not dead. I bet he did better than you thought he would in a fight." He hesitated. "If you let him try, he might surprise you."

"Or he might die in hideous circumstances," Leela countered.

"Or he might do that," Lars admitted. "But you can't do anything about that either. You can't fight the Brainspawn – only Fry can. And me," he realized. "Which is why I should stay right here. To protect you all."

He glanced at Leela – at the hand on her stomach and the dark shadow beneath her eye. Somewhere out there Morris was running supplies and Munda was mapping out potential ambush points. Skreem was probably elbow-deep in some gangrenous wound, trying to keep down her lunch. If she'd had a lunch in the first place. Bender was planning something dangerous Lars didn't fully understand, and no-one had the time or inclination to stop him. Amy risked her life every time she visited the sewer. Who knew what was happening to Hermes and the Professor on the surface. The NNYPD had tried to arrest them both for harboring a mutant; they'd lowered the Xmas siege shutters around Planet Express and barricaded themselves inside.

There were too many people he cared about and too much he couldn't protect them from.

But he could protect them from this. He could do this, at least.

They might not make it through the mutant uprising unscathed, but Lars would blow the Brainspawn to mush before he let them warp his friends' minds.

Leela had opened her mouth to protest, but he shut her down before she could get the words out.

"Don't tell me you don't need protecting," he said firmly. "If the brains want Fry, they're gonna come here. Everyone he cares about is here. You're here. Sooner or later they'll figure that out. Sooner, probably. Seeing as how they're giant brains."

"He's right," Kif said softly. "The Brainspawn will use you against Fry if they can." He gestured sadly at the holo-disc. "You've seen what they can do. If they arrive here, if they find you defenseless . . . Leela, they'll take you and twist you to their own ends."

Lars stared at the holo-disc. He saw it again, the blank-eyed determination on the face of Captain Glottus as he aimed the gun at his friend. He pictured the same blank expression on Leela's face – imagined her reaching up to caress Fry's cheek and snapping his neck instead.

A look at Kif and Leela told him they were imagining something pretty similar.

He touched Leela's hand.

"I won't let that happen," he vowed. "I'm a walking brain detector, remember? We'll be two steps ahead of them the whole time." Or limping two steps behind. He pushed this unhelpful observation aside. "They don't even know I exist," he pointed out instead. He winked. "I'm your secret weapon, baby."

Leela made a strange choking sound. It took Lars a minute to realize it was a kind of laugh.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I don't know why I said that. It was dumb."

To his surprise, Leela waved away his apology.

"It was sweet." She sighed. "And true, unfortunately." She tucked the holo-disc into her pocket and stood up. "I trust you," she said. "And I have to trust Fry. He made it this far. I have to believe he can make it back."