(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·. —Monday after, HQ's lobby…— .·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ)
"Ooohhh, to HELL with them all! Knew we should've come back for a suitcase device, would show those damned—"
A night not as fabulous as first believed, it'd seem, for upon entering with Amy, colleagues in tow, she would collide head-on with a blistering rant, well beyond any woes of aging. Originally, fancy envelope in hand and faint scents of rotting to split her attention.
"Sweet vegies of Sir Reggie, Professie! As if coming in yuh pyjamas wasn't enough, yuh kept getting under every guest's skin, blowing 'questions' out yuh fanny. What'd yuh believe would happen, really?"
"Sounds to me like you're in need of a nice long vacation, Hermes… Are you?"
A death sentence to a dedicated bureaucrat, and no idle threat either, as she ripped open that onyx cover and read each paragraph and every word, unable to shake the squirms in her guts. The truth to discover about Thomas's state, requiring emergency flights, which'd kick up anxious hopes—in rather the haste, that rotting to really strengthen.
"Well get a load of this, it's an actual letter from Archbury himself. Your thoughts Amy?"
"Let me see that," she'd read, though rushed. "Well, I'll be damned. You'd think for how the guy just wanted us gone, that—"
"He wouldn't bother? Just like he didn't against those idiots wanting to pick fights?"
"Hundred percent, Ma'am. Had my share of nights out, and even I was worried over all the alcohol."
"Wanted to believe it, you know, that the grace of his invite was genuine. Now, not so sure."
"You think the rookie overdid it though? Man drank as though he was expecting to die."
"Wouldn't rule any of that out now. Hey, is it just me, or somethin' really stinks 'round—"
A ruthless truth to realise over her question's origins; her Officer to find in a bloody heap, his suit to staunch a missing arm, and besides a stench that'd bring a lesser being to tears, there'd be a note piercing his chest, much too close to hearts for comfort.
"Become unpleasant to our eyes again, and you might lay as your Officer does now…"
"Sweet Lord, kid… What the hell did you find out?"
Childlike scrawl to try and identify as Amy dialled the emergency line, a couple others too; meanwhile she'd rush for her purse, out to use her own insurance. However, by the time she'd settle the fury and fright, causing fumbles with combo codes, the responders were already wheeling the kid down the hallway, without stasis.
"Where do you two think you're going with him?"
"Lady, I've seen bear and chimp victims better put together; gonna be the morgue, then the Sun for this sorry bastard."
"Listen buddy, you got here with a quickness, and I respect that. But like hell he is, and I'm coming with to make sure."
Any shrugs and "suit yourselves" to ignore as she'd help Amy climb into the back, squeezed Thomas's only hand, and watched those remains of rush hour fly past; looked anywhere but him, to have seen and smelt better roadkill.
Just as well she'd arrive at Taco Bellevue with company; on top of all the wheeling through wards, would contend with resistance, accusations of being responsible. Indeed, many a greased palm—much to Amy's mutters—to require until they could convince the staff on scene of holding righteous concern.
And going by those ghost white faces and near-hushed tones, no good news to go around; a mauling more than a murder, message sent clearer than crystal, for scans to reveal Grade 2 fractures, multiple ruptures, and catastrophic internal bleeding. Their final sight was to watch his body be bagged and tagged, before they'd be ushered outside the front doors, and left to sit and brainstorm.
"Great, just great. We can't hear out the dead once that damned ball of light erases them. Amy, you think our creams could—"
"That's not a bet I'd ever make, Ma'am, and you know what I'm like with money. We can't prove they'll bring him back, and after seeing him like that? Frankly, I'd sooner keep whatever's left."
"This ain't about you walking into a car dealership and thinking you were in an auction! This is about answers, and whoever did our Officer in, it's obvious they don't want 'em out."
"Which is fine of course, but what do you propose we do? It's gonna take miracles beyond creams to get him back, you know this."
"Actually, you're right. Can take care of everything else so long as I can recover his body—how, though, when it's already being prepared as we speak?"
A lovely stroll under cloudless sunshine on any other occasion, but they'd get back to Bessie just as grounded as upon waiting for news, barely a dribble of ideas to show for it.
"Only got a break-and-enter, Amy—not to belabour that, but isn't it strange how every doctor and nurse washed their hands of him?"
"Amazing what one can accomplish with sending a message, wouldn't you say?"
The feet of Archbury's elite force to laze upon the dashboard; first disbelief, then gritted teeth, to again confront the source of her ongoing problems.
"Get the hell off my ship, you son-of-a—"
"Ah ah, language little lady. Not here to cause harm or trouble, just hopin' to make myself at home."
"This ain't your home anymore. Now quit wasting my time, what do you want?"
"I want you worms to quit your crap. I want us to have our happily ever after. I want to lift veils of white lace off that pretty eye of yours."
"Not only will we NEVER do so, but so help me, I'll vow with every breath I have that I end you. AND whoever's orderin' ya 'round too."
Admiral to just get up, gently grip a shoulder, and plant a big kiss on her cheek; almost engaged the bathroom over such a violation.
"Awful brave, Captain, to declare that, especially to have nowhere to hide, nor means to fight. Still, if you must insist on this crusade, then I hope you've paid real close attention to all I've said."
Down the bridge stairs she'd watch them go, and just as they got into a sprint position, she'd hear one final thought trickle in.
"Oh, and dear to me or not, just don't forget to be a good girl. Promise you won't regret it."
Having made clear their declaration of sacred Oaths as being akin to defiance, they to vanish in but a second, leaving her and Amy a little bit windswept too.
One of the biggest hospitals, not just citywide she'd bet, to decide then that she'd take the afternoon off—for knowing Thomas could lie anywhere, knew immediately the need for a thorough plan.
"Gonna need a disguise that'll ensure I'm left alone, to increase chances of recovery. Then, gotta balance my duties with regular visits—if Admiral wants Thomas gone, only I could delay him, though that's no guarantee."
Thankfully, over ideas brewing from close encounters, masquerades to become much simpler; orders online or otherwise to look like another of Archbury's goons, with a shiny black bodysuit, matching wax mask, and glowing contacts.
"Seems reputations really DO precede that creep. Wonder if their stench plays a part too—uugghh!"
Power walking with purpose through Bellevue's doors, would get her wish regarding being left alone, maybe more than bargained for. Not a soul to send after her as she'd darken hallway and ward; in fact, heard many a gasp and saw many a sprint, sometimes into one another, to get outta Dodge.
"Damn, talk about leaving impressions! And I was thinkin' I had to do this 'cousin out of town' routine, here to bury the body."
A doctor between wards, by no means athletic, to stalk and soon grill for guidance, any claims of Oaths to clamp in a chokehold. To eventually be led to the basement, past where Officers once laid, caught a sharp jolt of déjà vu.
Couple minutes later, as cursed a career as ever she'd discover, for finding a crew keeping ferocious pace between several pile-ups of cadavers; one by one, each corpse to extricate, flash freeze, and send away before several more bodybags would crash on top, and often tumble down. The consequences of tens of millions calling this city home, even to count only those like her.
"Your attention, maggots! Your attention this instant! My Master's made demands for one Thomas Mayfield, and I don't care if they're buried in any of those bags or back in some hover-truck. Go get him, or go join him, you got me?"
Her demand to repeat as she'd close in a good deal and with speed; total compliance to realise she wasn't kidding, and their efficiency in retrieval to raise neither question nor complaint. Employing their stasis away from searching eyes, she'd escort the corpse back to that underground basement.
"Feels like I'm just making this crap up… Still, glad for this success, even for the need of many more."
(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·..·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ)
Stood atop the proverbial tightrope of duty and desires for truth, it'd only be out of merciful fortune—unexpectedly so—that she wouldn't plummet right from the first attempt.
Already few and far between, especially as orders began to pile in, whatever moment spare would usually be greeted by claps and laughter; much to her nuisance, they'd drip asphalt thick with sarcasm.
"This really your best effort, Captain? Either your seat or his life on the line; sure can't expect to enjoy both."
"Pulled more all-nighters in a week than you have your whole life, Shadowboy. Don't call it a challenge."
"Is that so? Then I guess I'm gonna haveta kick things up a notch, next time I pay a visit."
Dust in their wake once more, as she got the doctor out of hiding and again slipped hazard pay in his pocket. The matter of Mayfield's missing arm to remain on their minds, even to easily stem that external bleeding—one obstacle at a time, and only whatever could be cared for in that moment.
"Least you make the migraines worth my while. Was this guy always a magnet for trouble?"
"You've got no idea, and pray you never do. But saying that, been a greater help than even I'd ever guess, hell, daresay take for granted. So, any way around this arm?"
"Were it only a hand, I woulda pointed out the local Crafters office; this'll require a much more advanced solution I'm afraid."
"But that comes standard in Bellevue, doesn't it?"
"You mean to axe me to steal limb growers—top-grade machines, mind—and bring 'em here? 'Scuse me lady, but I ain't gonna lose my life, forget my license, over this friggin' loony. DEAD loony, I might add."
"Could always walk a few doors across, y'know… What use are arms and legs to all—"
"Committing felonies aside, can virtually guarantee his body's not gonna accept any of 'em. And even if it does, there'll be mandatory therapy, medications and more for the rest of his life—policy you have on file comes nowhere close to covering that."
"C heap-ass old man… Yeah, figures, whatever I guess. Maybe our visitor's right, oughta make like worms and crawl into—wait…" A twinkle to start sparkling, "Wait a minute, WAIT a minute!"
"Uhhh ohhh, she's gotten one of those ideas again."
Ignored every word as glimmers of past missions kicked up fires within, fires that, potentially, would do much more than mere rescue. With breakneck sprint, got right back to HQ, the latest slew of orders the last thing on her mind.
"Amy, front and centre please, I'd like a word."
"Something the matter, Ma'am?"
Palming her fingers, let a sly grin creep over her lips, "On the contrary, think an unlikely source's given me a great hint of help. What say we hit up that historic Root 66? Bessie could use a good scrub and check-up, and I can collect a couple things while we're there."
"But all these orders, how are we ever—"
"Ahhh forget 'em, let 'em wait. There's a little lesson I wanna teach, one way more important."
Typical advertising among the convoys, as they'd merge in then eventually dock within the dome of Greasy Sue's—regarding getting one's kicks, knew she'd get a grand one in good time. For inside that paradise of the unwashed, of foods fried, griddled and grilled reigning supreme, she knew it kept one disgusting secret.
And as she'd order Amy to quench Bessie's thirst, then start cleaning her to a mirror shine, there was no helping those thoughts as she'd shuffle Coolio's minted head between her fingers.
"Way to jump the laser, Leela. Wouldn't blame Thomas even a bit, to refuse the thing, and like I can guarantee the success I knew. Also, critically, how much more can I defy that Admiral, without costing myself more?"
Having no answers and not expecting any, she then took her chance to revive an old Army persona—having stored outfits in her quarters prior—and sauntered straight into the men's bathroom; obvious necessity for one of the sole women in that stop, maybe in a million parsecs.
Her eye to catch the graffiti as she'd enter, not always in spray or pen, as well as facilities cracked or stained, usually both; mutters of "Ew!" to almost give the whole game up, before she'd focus on the vending machine, and the 'fresh' egg salad sandwich inside it.
"Oh God, urrrp, mmmph," she'd rush out, fighting retches. "Don't think even this protective bag'll be enough; how on Earth did Fry ever stomach this?"
Securing the goods, almost sans lunch, she'd return to her regular self, and right after heard catcalls, saw a sway of hips her way. Chunky man in red cap, stained singlet, and filthy jeans to attempt the courtship, one of episodic familiarity; saved him a big bras d'honneur before she'd man the controls and launch out.
Plenty more on her mind, starting with addressing those fractures and ruptures; micro-lasers, Auto-Docs, and nanobots—a ward's worth—to even begin turning things around.
Even then, for miracles of 31st-century medicine, what felt like weeks to turn a foregone prognosis into a merely pessimistic one—no guarantees he'd ever escape the incapacity, never mind his mental state, as eventually she'd turn to her nurse on duty.
"You sure you couldn't steal these duds from anybody smaller, Leela?"
"Very, now quit adjusting yourself and listen. Thomas's finally awake, but he's still a real mess—no doubt it'll be back to square one, to quit on him now. We gotta take this as delicately as possible, especially after all of Bellevue's efforts. Understand?"
It was a sight she wouldn't have wished even on the orphans of old; an energy and fire to blaze inside, yet had nowhere to go, to find him bound head to toe in casts, kept in restraints, and giving only roars that might've required an exorcist.
"Now I'm sure you're axing what's going on and where you're at, but just stay with me. It's gonna be alright, even if it mightn't seem it."
Almost nothing that nurse could say or do, though, would soothe those wounded spirits even the slightest; almost a thought of giving up, only to notice that Thomas's tempests had suddenly cooled as quick as they had boiled.
"I don't know what I can do, rookie's lost his friggin'—"
"Show your back to him again."
"What, have you also lost—"
"Your hair. I think it's triggered a memory. Maybe we might be onto something."
And they'd be proven right when Amy, sick of her disguise by then, massaged her hair where Thomas could see—by the time Leela joined her and followed suit, his tears would show relief where wrathful passion once sat.
"Thanks for all the lost lunch breaks, kid."
A slow blink, sort of like those her pet occasionally gave, before they sat at the bed's edge.
"Still, this Captain's so glad you got through. And so long as you hold on, we'll soon discover why."
In his eyes she saw an eruption of desire, one of violence over romance, and not just for obvious culprits either. As she hastily caught him up on all he'd experience to date, what to perhaps expect, she couldn't help wondering whether her Chief might survive.
To revel in every corner cut, repair delayed, and machine collapsed, he'd prove a catalyst in Mayfield's odyssey, all its consequences since. A conclusion he'd also reach, and one that'd move her to gently cup his mouth.
"I know, I know. Don't worry, most everyone else feels the same way. But it's gonna get worse before better, and right now, I really need you at your bravest. Promise me?"
Getting his nod she'd return to HQ and her seat, ignoring old man grumbles, and took on her latest backlog of orders, knowing there was little else left but await doctor's orders. No better insurance than to fly like her, even for all duties skirted; would bet a few Nixons, two-to-one, that they'd be filing within days to fire her.
"You okay over there, Captain?"
"You really gotta axe? Seems like more days than not, that kid ends up in a situation not even the seasoned among us could stomach. Why the hell should he ever believe he's got a future here?"
"And he had one BEFORE you found him, hiding like a scared rabbit in your old hole?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right; didn't help he'd prove the coward either… Maybe we can build a hero of him yet."
The final time they'd speak of their delivery boy, by her request, until she got her call and the all-clear to unleash her ultimate weapon—admittedly against him, short-term, but more against the menaces who made their lives the way they were.
(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·..·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ)
Though they'd be kept incredibly busy by their abyss above, whether over bandits out for scores, Bessie's unstable upkeep, or even helping a couple arguing over directions, even two weeks seemed eternal before that most critical call would come through.
"Okay, yeah, alright, thanks for the heads-up…" Hanging up, would pinch her nose, "I don't believe it."
"News over our rookie, Ma'am?"
"Still a bodysuit of bandages, but he's actually talking back now. Unbelievable, after all this effort."
"Looking like a billion bucks, huh?"
"Let's not get carried away Amy, shall we? Let's also not delay either; the less I gotta deal with this dumb-as-dirt backlog, the better."
"Tell me about it, and come to think of it, all these names were written like an absolute child's. You'd think they'd learn how to hold a pen."
Never had an answer to give as they'd return to Bellevue and to Mayfield's new room, one of large green curtains and white-washed walls; obvious distress and damnable chats overheard, as they invited themselves in.
"Thank you very much Nurse, but we'll take it from here."
When they were able to lock eyes upon his, were pretty sure they'd hear prayers and thanks.
"Actually made it for real, girls? Or am I only dreaming?"
"I don't know, Thomas. Maybe this might convince you?"
In retrospect, should've heard the cries of "Ow, ow, OWWWW!" given her giant group hug, as well as when they went in for cheek pecks instead—mouth so much like a sewer, it'd scurry them back lickety-split to the bed's end.
"Wait, what's with the—oh. Umm, surely somebody helped brush my teeth right? Right?"
"Given the damage done when we got you in, everybody was more worried about dental RECORDS than dental health."
Fear in his eyes to prove real palpable, as they laid soft hands upon his feet.
"So rookie, how are you really feeling?"
"I lay as good as useless now, Amy, you really gotta ask?" And right when I believe a future's possible, for the cherry on that shit Sundae."
"Hey, you're better than to think that!" would point across. "Mere months ago, I woulda left you for dead—coming from your Captain, doesn't that count for something?"
"I s'pose it should, but it's rather cold comfort. How long have I been here, anyway?"
"Ooh damn… Given the gala date to now, I'd believe it's been six weeks, close to seven."
"WHAT?!" he'd struggle about, try in vain to escape. "Damn to hell that penny-pinching, prune-skinned pri—"
" SPEAKING of which, regret to say he's washed his hands of you. Been making claims he hasn't a clue who you are."
"As good a reason as any to remind him then. S'pose it'd be a waste of my time though. As for you both, why? Why bring me back, outta your own pocket and precious time?"
"Nobody's more trouble than the price you paid, of that I'm confident. Besides, seems clear you've got quite the story to tell, given how we found you—wouldn't you agree?"
"Perhaps, but if you're saying I'm such an author, well, it's news to me I'm afraid."
A slight grip of his foot, that'd leave her Officer wincing. "Come on Thomas. I get that you've been in real bad spots, but you know we're right here. You know that—"
"Leela, for how skilful you've proven with my deliverance as with our packages, you know I'd gladly give my life again. Even for our history, I might add. That said, I won't claim with confidence that I remember a thing; shit-kicker kicked the shit outta me like very few I've known."
It was then she'd again palm fingers, though this time, would attempt to hide that sly-eyed smile.
"There might be a way… Listen, I know of another 'miracle' that might help, take me all of two minutes to grab. But I will warn you, you WON'T like it."
"As if anything's gonna be worse than where I'm at right now."
"That's the spirit I was after! See you in a sec."
Escaping her lips throughout, and none she could help, a series of weird noises as she'd return with gloves, a bubble shield helmet, and her protective bag; only an open zip needed to unnerve her Officer, and then she'd unwrap her unholy secret.
It'd still baffle her, how once-boyfriends even indulged in this; two slices of mostly mouldy rye, and in between, the scents of ages-old mayonnaise, an afterbirth masquerading as an egg, and topping that sorry affair, a soulless black husk of supposed tomato.
Had to bite her tongue extra hard when she caught him trying to roll away, eyes wide and breath rapid.
"What is that? What the actual FUCK is that?! And what do you—"
"How to say this delicately… It was our plan to feed you, but—"
"Nope, nein, absolutely NO chance! If that thing's how I'm gonna go, I'd rather a plasma burst."
"Much as it looks bad—and I won't lie, it really is—I'm sure you know us better than that. You think if I hadn't seen this in action, I would've gone out my way to buy this thing?"
"Whatever the case, what was wrong with our other miracles?"
"Buddy, you really want to unwrap all those bandages? Barring that, you really wanna lie there, like this, for months on end? To be clear, this'll make you WAY better off long-term—tell you what, I'll even bet a Gore on it."
Though she could see him dry heave, mutter about wanting hospital food instead, knew that such offers would gain his attention. Even as superior, knew of the struggles to survive—never mind have savings—and to hear the heaviest sigh, figured he knew as well.
"Alright, fine. But if you happen to lose any fingers, don't—"
"Our local Crafters office will see to those. Now open wide and chew thoroughly, we've got to get it all down."
What'd follow was a fight even she couldn't quite control; how did one prepare for the sprays of rotten spit and crumbs, curses roaring like chainsaws? Minutes to seem like months before everybody, through sheer effort, finally got that last piece down; she to look upon herself and almost regret the entire idea.
"Geez, I'll thank you for needing a long shower. For your sake, you better do your best with keeping that down."
"Ugghh, oooff… Jesus, Mary and Joseph Christ, what did I do to deserve that?"
"Don't worry, the worst is over; with a little more work on our end, you shall see. Just trust me, okay?"
Literally inside and out, she knew both what to expect, and exactly how to boost the process—inside, a fast-growing crowd of dozens, scores, then hundreds of mutualistic parasites, likely now marching in lockstep. Indeed, could picture one fixing a crown upon its head, ready to bark orders about 'renovating' their new human home.
A job they couldn't do—least with haste or efficiency—without some vital resources, and that was where she came in.
Of course, between trying to convince Professors and staff on duty, nothing came without their complications, those she couldn't solve without risk of being fired. And as making such plans turned days into a week, she knew that Mayfield's mental health hung by the thinnest of threads—not helped, no doubt, by this apparent betrayal.
Ten days after the feeding however, she to offer an ultimatum, and hope also for evidence—said not a word that morning meeting, only pried out her career chip, pressed it into the Chief's hand, and turned her heel upon its conclusion, kept walking as he spoke.
"I really didn't want to do this, Leela, but you've given no choice… What price must I pay?"
"A Captain's nothing without good crew, and much as you mightn't agree, my Officer's part of it. All I axe of you is one small favour, leave the rest to me."
Wouldn't take too long after to gain her glimmer of hope, as the Professor got to work producing a couple of pills. Finishing in next to no time, having invented far greater from napkin scrawls, was then off to Bellevue, giving Mayfield his medicine with a gulp or two of water.
"Miniature silverware and medical reports; give 'em a couple of days, and it'll all become apparent."
"Give what a couple—seriously? What must I do to get any good answers 'round—"
They would leave before he could let rip; when the labours of her latest scheme bore its fruit, she knew that her CTO First Class would leave Taco Bellevue a truly changed man, for he never could've known of what she'd witness, of the sound of power tools sawing away boiler pipes before her eye.
"Wonder how he'll feel 'bout his new friends? Sure hope he'll appreciate them a lot more."
(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·.(ˆ·. —Taco Bellevue, late October…— .·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ).·ˆ)
"Huh, whaaa… Oh man, best sleep I've ever had—can't remember the last time. Hey, is that the nurse? The hell's wrong with her?"
Certainly a sight to rouse his attention; rushing for the window, and forcing it open, that sorry soul to share, with gusto, whatever was lunch with the pavement beneath; hopes that no-one got caught in the crossfire, victims of unkind Fates.
"Ohhhh, Dios no me ama…" she'd sign the cross afterwards.
"Don't s'pose you've a pew to share, huh lady? Thinkin' I might join in."
"Okay, hold up, you're TALKING? But, how? How on Earth can that be?"
"Honestly was hoping you'd be able—"
"I thought you were a corpse moved from the morgue by mistake. How else to explain a smell so forsaken, in 15 years doing this damnable job?"
"As I was sayin', was wanting some details. Stewed in these bandages so long, I should be a maggot paradise. So why, in Christ's sacred name, am I not only alive, but raring and ready to leap right outta this bed?"
"Excuse me? Hippocratic Oath or otherwise, I'd appreciate it if you didn't take my Lord and saviour in vain."
"Apologies that I did, but, forgive me if I've more pressing matters in mind. For starters, why people I thought were my friends fed me His cruellest prank yet."
"Our Master of all works in mysterious ways. Ever thought to axe why you'd attract His mighty ire?"
"Nah, not at all really. All I cared about was how to survive the persistent hellfire upon my head; if you're saying it'll stop only if I obey and worship, then with all respect, keep your offer. Now can you please help me figure out just why I feel—"
"That 'thing' you ate had to have played a part, bet my 4001k on it. We'll check inside your colon, once we get the all-clear from above."
"You wanna know the crazy thing? I somehow think I am, and then some. Reckon you could remove this cast?"
Said it so casually he thought of scolding himself, more so once the nurse's laughs rattled the walls.
"When I said I'd check your colon, I didn't mean right this second. Frankly I don't care how you believe you feel; you were given six months minimum, and that's how long you're gonna stay."
A look outside, then he'd shut his eyes and groan, "The longer I lie here, sister, the more likely I'll fall afoul of a true monstrosity's mercy. Whereupon his devil shall leave me in pieces, and God help you AND Taco Bellevue should that order extend your way. So either help me out, or be sure you get outta sight."
Nurse to immediately snap back, "Sir, you're full of crap. We were told you were an alien attack victim, surviving only by freak anomaly. Nothing more, and I won't hear it!"
"Alien, huh? Listen lady, question my memory if you wish, but I know good and damned well who made this bed for me, who made their message as clear as crystal, who'd threaten my only friends just out to save me. If they think this 'freak anomaly' is just gonna turn his cheek and be grateful, I'll give 'em a response to really remember."
"Say whatever you want, mister tough hombre, but it won't convince me to cut you loose."
"Since you seem so confident then, I'll tell you what… How 'bout the head of Gore says I'll be fine once I'm out?"
"A betting man, huh? Make it five of 'em, or forget it."
"Ohhh, I call and you raise, huh? Well, if you've got that kinda money to gamble with, you got it."
Was sure she had a nice ring or necklace in mind, as she undid every last bandage, but once he got his space, it was without thinking that he'd virtually kip up off the mattress.
"Uhhh, ookaay, damn sure didn't expect THAT…" A fist to his hips, to elicit another yelp. "Ohhh SHIT, nor that!"
Might've bit through knuckles, skipped some beats to realise—even without a mirror, the fat that'd rolled about his bones like creamy vanilla custard had only gone and vanished, virtually overnight.
"Seriously though, what in every world known is this shit?"
"I don't know, Sir, but what a price to pay for hubris. Alright, deep breaths, let's go step by step."
Eyes like a Goodman of Guinness fame, as he prepared for first tests however shakily. First was one of mobility, thirty seconds of just sits and stands, the more the merrier. One he'd pass with flying colours, as easily as the next which'd consist of stretches; squats, pikes, and splits to perform like he'd done so his entire life.
Between all those, and tests of strength, heart health and faculties, all he could insist upon was a shower, and all she could do was leave him to it, to patient's privacy with mutters and shaking heads. Grabbing that hose, and nearly ripping it out its hinges, would begin washing out the months of comatose lying.
"This isn't real, mate, this isn't real. Just gotta close your eyes, count to three, pinch your skin, and you'll actually wake up, just as you were."
Wiping away any steamy fog once he finished, and finding the man staring back, was only able to fetch up a yell that might've woken the dead.
"What the hell happened, I've got my body and then some? Is—is that a jawline? Chest like a, barrel? The makings of abs? Holy, check out Mount Bicep, these glutes for days... Nooo, no, t-t-this ain't happenin', this can't be…"
"You wanna give me a great big smile, Thomas?"
Almost couldn't stop the scream as he'd turn around; flashing one of her own, his Captain, least until his waft made its presence known.
"Ugh, y'know, second thought, we'll be right back. Pretty sure we'll thank ourselves for it."
And indeed he would, to get all his hygiene stuff from out of HQ; felt like hours that he'd soap and scrub every last flake of new flesh, and exit the freshest he'd ever been. Almost fought the urge to break out in tears, only to do so utterly upon flashing a perfect set of teeth while he'd brush them.
"And thus endeth the lesson, that miracles DO come from the damnedest things."
"Maaannn… Even to wish for death over it, there's no putting to words how alive I feel—bless you Captain, for granting this."
"What a time to grant MY wish, then. Truly a pity though, seeing a fond past before my eyes."
Almost breaking the door with but a gentle push, all their worst nightmares to enter at once, though certainly in no hurry to put the hurt on anybody. Renewed minus a limb, Mayfield would refocus on their nemesis.
"Ladies, get behind me, this—"
"The hell you will, it's my sworn duty to—"
"Whoever wants a piece of me, does it even matter? We all know who'll be digging the other's grave, between Admirals, Captains, and temporaries."
"Well then spit it out, ya prick. What do you want?"
"Easy Tom, no need nor use getting fired up. I'm just here to put some questions and stories to rest. Including your own, if you cooperate."
"Then ladies first. I'd insist that'd be polite, don't you?"
"Whatever you want my lady. It won't matter anyway."
"Okay, so after your Master's grand ball, I was promised that my Officer would return sober and in good health, post-haste, in writing. So why wasn't he?"
"He would've, had he not acted the wise-ass. At least at first. That was before I got orders to ensure he really learnt his lesson."
"Whose orders?"
"Such a reveal I cannot say aloud, nor whisper I'm afraid. And if I can help it, nobody else either."
"If only you were as careful with combinations as you were with identities, champ."
"Do humour me, Tom. Grants only access to my quarters, and nothing more."
"It's the code itself I've an interest in, and more for my friends than myself. Ladies, any idea what 1077 might mean?"
"Nope, can't say I've any clue."
"Nor I, either," Leela shrugged. "That said, I've heard that number once or twice, I'm sure of it."
"A reminder of lives I once knew. In another era, in fact. Now, did you receive the packages I'd send your way?"
"All we've done is deliver them—shoulda suspected they were a bunch of fakes. As to any others, might've been buried beneath every gift we got from this 'secret admirer'; teddy bears, heart candies, that kinda thing. Though given their frequency and strange timing, well—"
"Mostly, they were meant to serve as warnings, and for your sake, I will spare the details."
"Please and thanks, Admiral. Got enough reminders of that balloon-bellied bastard to last a lifetime."
"Balloon-bellied? Sorry kid, but only shows my luck with dating lately—doesn't narrow it down much."
"Dresses like he's going hunting?"
Could've heard a pin inside a cork-walled room, as that very statement sent her into a tremble, then shivered her with a Kilauean rage. Only one she knew who'd fit that description, and one she could no longer deny to piece together present man and past menace.
"So the death of true friends, all my sleepless nights, all the trust issues, fights and madness since… Zookeeper was the constant catalyst of it all? Even after he'd already won?"
Almost had to restrain her, to give but a grave nod. "That human Shamu son-of-a-BITCH! He wants to keep my total hell ongoing? I'll teach him what a war against me really means."
"If it's a war you want, dear, need only say the word."
"Hold it, hold it," Tom offered upraised hands. "Listen, may I correct myself just a touch?"
"This better not be a joke of yours."
"I won't intend it to be, at least. Because, that 'death' thing? Maybe not how I'd—"
Copped a shove that'd send him tumbling, "Don't you fucking dare! If you're saying this asshole here is actually Fry, I'll—"
"Damn Leela, ease up!" Stood back up, dusting off, "You learn a lot being kept hostage, like, say, that certain mutual hatred you share. Not of a man, but rather a machine."
"And exactly what machine would that refer to, Tom?"
"Last time I told you, you'd punch through solid steel in blind rage. Rather not witness THAT again."
A flicker of a knowing smile, and it'd be with quivered steps that he'd then whisper that name in Leela's ear; threats of breaking a jaw, to grab his collar, but quickly restrained herself with an approving nod.
"Okay Thomas, so that's ONE thing. What's it got to do with your stupid theory, again?"
"From that name, that fiend over there had many a story to tell. Stories of deeds cruel, jealousy absurd, actions inconceivably vicious. Things we'd condemn our fellow man over, and rightly so."
Would then regale what Admiral would share, as long as was allowed—with each tale involving Seymour Asses, whether in honest days then or HQ recently, could sense he was carrying conviction.
"Claims he's called 'Orange Joe' too, whatever that means. And they'd also mention a 'special lady' as well, through all the house hunts and colleagues known."
Conviction to disbelief, in no time flat, "No, no, NO! I won't entertain the idea that he's even alive, never mind here—broke my heart once, and I can't suffer that again."
"You think I forgot your stories? Having said that, why does coming back to life, perhaps returning home, seem so out of the question?"
"After a year and a half? Really?"
"At least you can embrace even that outside chance. You think I can say the same after almost a thousand years?"
"Oh so what Tom, shut up already. Say, lemme do you a favour, by punching out a ticket to join whoever ya lost in Hell." he'd snarl, closing in.
"How 'bout, since you've got great command over seamen, you suck on my Harry Balzac instead?"
Tell-tale giggles, then Admiral to right himself, "One of my proudest aliases, along with Tess Tickle, Phil Maweeney, and Mike Rotchburns."
"All of them written in much the same way, now that you mention 'em," Amy pondered aloud.
"But enough of my subtle genius, let the games begin… How 'bout we get ourselves an audience?"
"Like who, Shadowboy?"
"Why Captain, who else? Since I'm in need of some paperwork being prepared, of termination effective immediately, I'm gonna be wanting the proper witnesses. Don't worry, I've got time."
The Admiral then leaned against the doorframe, bothered by and bothering nobody; left him and Amy to then scramble over phones to request certain presences—his Captain, once given their grim consent, then told of desires to leave and, in so many words, pick them up personally.
Had to wonder whether a ploy was in the concoction, but if there had been one, Archbury's dark knight to care not a damn. Maybe had ideas of going for her miraculous stash, just in case they needed to beat a hasty escape and go into hiding.
Instead, would watch her return with a small cardboard box, much to the chagrin of everyone present and especially the Admiral, by then pacing back and forth rather piqued.
"This is what you made me wait for? A worthless box? I actually believed you knew better than to—"
"My mistake Admiral, thought a quick detour was worth taking. Believe it or not, found this buried deep behind all my outfits; the memories, the mementos, of when two Captains fought as one."
"And what will anything inside that aim to prove?"
"Over eighteen months ago, in a search and rescue gone to hell, my life was saved because he'd sacrifice his very own. Didn't quite succeed, truth be told, in tossing me to safety, but it was encouragement enough. Never got to bury the body, and I presumed him dead since."
"It was my—ahem, do go on."
"In that time since, my Officer has believed you're him, right from the first day you'd meet. Further concreting that, my photos and his time in your prison. This box, one way or another, shall help me put that heartbreak to rest."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then you need not dirty your hands, 'cause I'll kill him myself to play me like that."
"Hey, better you than him, Captain. Though that's like sayin' one pile of shit's nicer than another."
Thankful that they'd ignore that remark, could only watch as she took several deep breaths before prising off that lid. Inside, made out a 'CY' necklace stylised in a peace sign, a lock of his ginger hair, never-before-seen photos of fighting crime, and even newspaper clippings by the dozens.
"This is all? Just some pathetic trinkets and oh-so-special pictures? As if I would ever appreciate them…"
It was at that moment that all seemed doomed, at least on his end, when his Captain would advance on him punching her hand. But just as she took up his entire field of view, he'd catch a glimpse of skin receding, hear gasps and hushes among the collective. Such observations, to sport quite the grin over.
"Any last words, since you seem so chirpy?"
"Care to look again, before you get carried away?"
All he'd possessed in this lifetime, and the last, to capture Leela's face right then—jigging about with joyous energy, head to toe in a hideous white-and-blue jumpsuit, the fastest man of the past she once fondly spoke of. Group shots in her priceless photobook, to remind him of their adventures on Wormulon.
Long story short, discoveries of forbidden secrets would order them captured at the Slurm Queen's behest—Fry to end up as their only hope. A bleak idea at the best of times, knowing well his failures and, at that moment, his crippling addiction to the Queen's chief export; upon her excreting a condensed version to earn his freedom, didn't hesitate to declare they were absolutely boned.
However, with what must've been a superheroic will, Fry would drag that tubful and flick her switch, set off their rescue while feeding that compelling, compulsive hunger. Perhaps, deep down in his core, desires to return home had kept him going—this proof that he still could, to help him resummon it.
"Is it really you guys? Are you actually all here?"
"Sweet Zombie Jesus!" goggled the Chief.
"Abraca-wuh? Am I seeing what—"
Following the co-pilot's blurt, a rhyme spoken with a shiver and Zoidberg's excitable whoops and clacks of claw—topping every reaction though, his Captain's stupefied silence, like a leather glove had slapped the saliva out her lips.
"Now listen, poison's growing back as we speak, so I cannot remain like this. First, lemme say sorry for being gone so long, for giving everyone such trouble. To Tom here especially; had he not forgiven me, not shared his stories and music, might never have gotten this chance."
Everyone to stare his way; all he could do was incline his head, shuffle his feet, and clasp hands. Possibly, a step toward seeing this'd all been worth it, as he'd then watch Yesterday move for and hug his only living family.
"How's things, Professor?"
"Knowing I'm not alone anymore? So much better."
"Given the fears I'd heard for your health, I thought much the same. It's really so good to see you."
"Might be the only one to say that, these days. Nobody's grateful 'round here; why, back in my—"
"Well, I mightn't get another chance, so I'll just say, thank you. Thank you, for giving me that job, dreams to chase, adventures to have… Friends to cherish."
"Of course I would, anything for an uncle. One I'll hope to have back, and soon."
"If I get back, let's hit up the malt shop sometime. Love ya kid."
Must've been a crack at technical ages, to hazard a guess, as Farnsworth would wipe a lone tear, and Hermes would gently pat a shoulder. The most emotion anybody'd get out of him, he'd suppose, as he then met with Hermes, ignoring the rather antsy Captain behind him.
"Tally me banana Hermes, what up?"
"To have you here, like this, and now? My heartrate, I'd think."
"Well, make like limbo and lower it, for it is me. And I'm so glad those bureaucrats up top never gave your marching orders."
"Whoever told yuh that, they obviously don't know us bureaucrats well."
"Also, can't forget how you kept us alive; not only that, but you've been the best Grade 36 a headquarters could ever have. Hope you know that."
"Just what I'm about, mon. Gotta do what you love, even if it's not a good idea."
Rarest display of a full smile, to go with his sing-song and with fixing his jacket; off Yesterday then went to speak with Zoidberg—Leela, by now, had lost about all patience.
"Should've known you'd never go down with butter and lemon, lobster dude. I mean, since you smell like you eat garbage and does."
"Damn right!"
"Y'know, even for our Claw-Plach, your botched surgeries, and sticking things up my sunshine… Gotta say, you're a reason of few, for why I tried carrying on."
"Try telling that to this crowd here. All I've been is a problem."
"Well, least you still give everything you have to try and ensure happiness, our success… That to me speaks of true friendship, in spite of your efforts anyway."
It was that heartfelt remark—even he could tell—that'd send the crab crying over Hermes' shoulder; far from the expected rebuke, actually got an embrace back. Likely just for this occasion, yet even then, would admit to rubbing eyes, as off to Amy Yesterday would go—Leela now beside herself.
"And how's our madam out of Mars? Still as spoiled, ditzy, and a klutz as always?"
"Spoiled? Was that really called for?"
"You're right, I'm sorry. Who am I to cast flaws on such a diamond, after all I've heard now and known before? I'm just raring to talk about stuff and junk again, like we did in old days—take care of yourself till 'then, and wish Kif my best too."
Couldn't quite see how Amy had taken such a turn of phrase, however sweet and short, but no doubt that didn't matter in that moment—Leela was looking positively prone to explode, by the time they finally met.
"And speaking of special diamonds—"
"I swear to every known God, if this is some kind of cheap trick of your master's…" she'd glare.
"Baby, given the grudge he still holds, you think he'd allow even this?"
Right then, swearing it as true as he stood there, watched his now-convinced Captain grab every inch of jumpsuit she could, and pull him in for a kiss to snatch a man's breath, a hug that might've squeezed out his soul in the bargain.
"Wowww, still as magic as it remains in memory. Though, really, it's seeing you alive that's the greatest spell of all. To hear what happened after the fact, I—" Was then he'd grip his face with a glove, "I failed us all by falling behind, for forgetting ancient comic lessons, for—"
"Listen, NOTHING was ever our fault. We all wanted redemption, he suckered us all for seeking it. And we might've gotten away, if only it weren't for our rat—"
"Shhh, shh shh, let's not ruin this moment. Don't think we'll get another like it, not for a while yet. Least until then, I can start dreaming of swimming in those lips."
"You sure you shouldn't be spewing crumbs for lovely thoughts like those?" An attempt, maybe, at stiff upper lips, but knew it to be for naught.
"Should I be? I always cursed the fact that I never said this out loud, lacked the guts to do so… For all I've seen, Admiral or otherwise, costume or not, there's been no better Captain I've known, even for all the star trekking we'd done. I am so friggin' proud of you."
A chorus of "Amen!" to ring, all while a surge of sorts would seemingly course through Leela's body, beyond caffeine or even cream.
"Do you believe you'll ever come back home?"
"Wish I'd the power to say for sure, but until then, I've got a headache with pictures. Tom, can you play for us what I'd call the 'Captains' Song?'"
Not a single clue even to get Symphod in hand, but when a shaking Leela whispered in his ear, he immediately lit up. Another timeless classic, now with timely meaning; kick drums, bass guitar strums, synthesisers to kick in and kick off one of Bill Withers' best hits—indeed, right there and then, just the two of them.
She to need no prompt in taking a gloved hand, nestle her head to Yesterday's chest while she 'heard' crystal raindrops fall—through that slow dance to savour, a promise of making it if they kept trying.
As the dance would end, and Yesterday would offer to help her sit, knew that he'd have given almost anything to bottle this memory.
"Listen, these people are gonna need your leadership and strength now more than ever. We'll be back together soon, but until then, I want that promise from you."
"I promise, I promise." Usually never shy of a word, would hear it said while close to tears.
It was at that point that Yesterday would recoil with a rather strangled grunt; whatever this poison was, had every hope it'd never enter his life.
"Nggghhh, ohhh no, think my time's up… I better leave, but before I do, be sure you pay our Bender an ass-kicking, assuming you find him of course. Thanks for reaching out, I love you all, and as always, live long and prosper."
A familiar salute, or some four-fingered version thereof, before that obsidian skin would obstruct his face, and Admiral would vanish quick as they could.
It'd take many a minute for Leela, shaken to her core, to stand again; no doubt she thought she'd never hear that voice again, indeed believed it wise to accept living without it. His best truly saved for last, and as it all started to sink in, her eye would leak—not in sadness, but with profuse euphoria.
All her colleagues to bearhug and wet their clothes, before her gaze, near-blinded and moist, would eventually fall to him. Within two seconds, with an added bonus of head nestling chest, would end up hugged as she did Yesterday; could've sworn to cracking bone, and thought to protest, but chose to let the moment linger.
For so long, he'd state it unfair to have undergone his every injustice and resultant sorrow; how'd he lash out, drive the world away, in vain hopes he could simply glue his heart back together like it were cracked ceramic. And yet, such was the duality of redemption—few better than the truly hurt, upon embracing theirs and desiring better, to help one mend, heal, and come to terms.
A personal upgrade, a precious triumph, a glorious time to celebrate, that made all these many months in life and death's limbo worth travelling. But he knew as did they, that such breakthroughs were bound to attract an awesome tempest in response.