trans_9 | Visions and Idiots [closed]

She doesn't have to wait long before she has company. Hey, people like Leela. Especially people whose marriages might be put in jeopardy if said people were to fail to succeed in keeping Leela alive.

"You know -" Allen plops down in a fleshchair next to Leela's bed, dropping a messenger bag on the floor and dropping a tray of slop on the table next to her. "When you mentioned those visions of yours where we were talking about what a good thing it was you were on the same team with Cale, you miiiiight have mentioned we were having that talk in the hospital."

He smiles at her. "How you feelin?"

"Let's see, the problem with that is, telling you that I saw that: Cybil needed to be on McNinja's team, Worf and Leon needed to be on the same team together and go for the middle ship in the forest, all the teams needed a medic, I needed to be on the same team as Cale, Elle would have to go with the team in the city, Nightwing, Robin, and Batman Lite needed to be on the same team together, and Spock needed to be on the team that went for the ship in the canyon...telling you that I knew that from this conversation we're having that I saw back then, might've made this conversation not happen, meaning I wouldn't have seen it back then, meaning it might never have happened the way it did. But it all worked out, didn't it, so it was best if it happened this way, 'cause everyone got out alive. Some of it was unnecessary--like I bet some people weren't needed, but that's how this conversation went, therefore, I knew that would work."

A deep breath. "Whoa, deja vu. Already had this conversation."

Basically, her warning for how it had to be on the mission was her recapping the mission after getting the warning from herself about the mission--she really tried not to think about these things.

She blinks. "Other than that, though, m'fine."

"What a circus. So do you already know about the part where I brought you a present, or is that part still a surprise?"

Allen picks up the messenger bag and hands it to Leela, tucking it into her bed where she can reach it with her good hand.

"I raided the Possessions lockers for you. Don't tell Stacy. Only about half of these are mine."

Inside the messenger bag is a stack of comic books about three inches thick.

"I also brought you a copy of War and Peace so you can pretend you're reading something really dry if someone like Jaime or Kon comes along and asks why they're on the cover of your comic book and can they see what it is and so on."

"You are a geek god, and my favorite person ever, almost, maybe--okay, I can't say that, because Irene shares that slot, but you know what I mean." Yay comics! "And don't worry, these all look indie, so that probably won't happen."

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm amazing. And Irene is my other half so, you know, where she goes, I go. Including in best friend slots . . . okay not really, her buddy Ilsa kinda hates my guts but whatever, she has issues."

SERIOUS ones.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're alright. You scared the shit out of me, you little - damn, there has to be an analogy for this. Someone who puts their life on the line for any old asshole regardless of the fact that if they die their BFF's spouse is going to get the pounding of a lifetime if said spouse didn't have that person's back. That's what you are." He shakes his finger at her, mock-warningly. "You and your big damn heroics are going to get me in trouble. I know you're used to having the run of the world, throwing yourself at any old risk you feel like, but now that I'm here, young lady, we're going to have to talk about some ground rules regarding you not getting yourself killed."

Hey, last time they were on Earth together, was he this lecturey?

"Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of how old you are," she says in a very flip fashion, leaning back to read her comics.

"I'm not old. I'm thirty. I'm in the prime of my life."

Seriously, screw that high-school shit.

"And I mean it. You scared me there. I had to stop feeling, in case you couldn't tell. That's a lot of scare."

She actually looks up at him, only because it's Allen.

"I had to do what I hadda. That's how it always is, and how it's always gonna be. Didn't have time to do it any other way or I would've."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You're a hero. Believe me, I know heroes. I've known you for 12 years. I married a hero."

He's had ample time to collect sufficient data on the psychological profiles of heroic individuals.

"Just don't forget, just because you're the one who does what needs to be done, when it needs to be done, that you've got people around who'll be worse off, seeing you go. You matter. Not just because you're suicidally brave."

She tilts her head at him, digesting that.

For all her bravado and confidence, Allen has the truth pegged down better than most. He did before everything had even started--she figures 12 years must've only added to it.

"I know."

It's just hard remembering that sometimes.

"I wouldn't ever just throw it away. You know that."

"Yeah, I do."

He pats her on the shoulder. "That's why I'm gonna be watching you like a stalker."

"Okey-doke, Captain Overprotective."

"Yeah yeah, don't get a big head over it. I'm just practicing for the fetus." Allen beams proudly. "She will never speak to any boys ever."

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...in the Special Weapons Division, Cale sat on a stool, his body hunched over a workbench while he tinkered with a gold ring. It was the gold ring that he'd retrieved from his possessions locker, the only possession that had been inside the entirely over-sized container. However, rather than a illuminated map forming on his hand--activated by his DNA--like it had after Korso had toyed with it on the Tau station, it was just a ring.

Obviously, Stacy must have deactivated it while he'd been in pod-sleep, which meant that Cale would have to find some way of reactivating it. Which was exactly what he was doing. Sitting quietly, not disturbing anyone, while he used some of the equipment in the Special Weapons Division to try and reactivate it.

It was probably a stupid task, a silly one, and of little consequence. But, it kept his mind off of other things. ~~Like nearly getting someone killed.~~

"Y'know, I tried figuring out how many times I should kick your ass, but I'm sort of scared the number's so high it'd hurt my foot even trying," says a voice at the door.

Oh, CRAP!

Cale falls to the floor when he suddenly jumped off the stool, dropping his ring in the process, and turned around to see Leela standing at the door. And she look PISSED!

"Um...hey, Leela," he stammered as he started to back away, trying to put as much distance between him and her as possible. ~~Which wasn't much.~~ "How you feeling?"

"Kinda like punching something," she says, leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed.

No way out, Cale.

"Something," Cale echoed, followed by a nervous clearing of his throat. "Or...someone?"

Of course, he's noticed that there is no way out. Thankfully there's a row of tables between him and the door.

She uncrosses her hand to make a 50/50 gesture with her hand, which is still looking a tetch swollen, but mostly back to normal. There are still large pockmarks where each stinger was, though, since they'd gotten abscessed. They're mostly healed now, but it's likely going to add to her collection of scars.

"Ah...ok," he said, still backing up, at least until he bumped into the fleshy wall behind him. And, he was cornered. "Soooooo, you're, uh, you're all right then?"

"After they got me breathing normally under my own power again, I was pretty much okay," she says, finally slooowly walking towards him, sauntering vagely in his direction in between the work-tables and whatnot.

He started moving clockwise around the room, doing what he could to keep the tables between them and, hopefully, make it to the door. "That's...um...," another nervous swallow. "...that's good."

There's the little problem, however of her hopping over a table, effectively cutting him off.

"Yeah, not that you'd know, since I asked, and you never even came to visit."

Ok. He wasn't expecting her to be that okay.

"Uh...no, I didn't," he answered as he hastened his pace. "I was, you know...you see I had to...I thought that you'd rather...."

Then, he just stopped, his shoulders slumping slightly as if a huge weight had just been hung from his neck. "You're gonna hurt me, aren't you?"

For a moment, she just looks at him, arms crossed. Then she flops back to sit on one of the lab tables.

"Nope," she says. "'Cause if you don't feel bad about being an idiot and nearly getting me killed, beating the shit out of you won't do a damn thing. And if you do, it'll make you feel more guilty if I do nothing to get you back for it."

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Meanwhile, down the hall...

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