Nuttopia

Well I guess I should at least tell Zarla-S that this exists. After I'm done doing this part:

====8<====

Abduction Day 2
(WDG-1S)

His fault. It was his fault for not paying attention. For being sleepy. Somehow, the Other got hold of them and took their clothes and put them in a tub of warm water with bubbles[1] that happened to be by the fire. There, she ruthlessly went over their entire skeletal system with a soft sponge and showed them how to play in the bubbles.

Okay. So it wasn't much like the way He did things, but it was frightening because One didn't know what was going on half the time.

And after the Other was satisfied, it was out of the tub and into thick, soft, fluffy towels and the big, soft chair while the Other busied themself with water disposal and mopping and putting away. Two clung to him and he clung to Two, not knowing what to expect out of the Other.

Something had to be wrong with being naked, they knew that much. And living in fear of Him had taught both brothers not to ask questions. And it had taught them to fear anything new.

The Other returned, eventually, with their sleeves rolled back down and colourful bundles. Clothing. But not like the weak Green things that He had tied to their bodies. These were strange shapes. And colours. Some were small. Some were not.

The Other had so many new words for them. Underclothes. Shirt. Pants. Coat. Scarf. Hat. They showed the brothers how they worked against their enormous body, but the things were clearly too small for the Other. The things were... brother-sized. It was clear that they weren't getting the weak Green clothes back. And He had made it clear that there was no point resisting.

Two went first. Learning how to put on the layers of clothings. He was ever more trusting and let the Other know about his preferences. Which were jarring to One's eyes, but he looked so... _happy_. He was even glowing green.

When was the last time that had happened?

Two being happy gave him the courage to stand up and let the Other assist in getting his clothings on. He consistently chose the darkest of Blue that the Other always had available. And of course One kept telling the Other to be careful, and that One only had one HP.

The Other made a show of healing him. Big, gentle hands and warm energy. It didn't do a thing, but One couldn't remember a single moment when any other being but Two had spent any care on him. He relaxed. Just for a moment. and stretched out his arms...

The Other was holding him! And Two! And Two was holding him, too. There was no squeezing on his soul, and the Other had a gentle enough grip that he could escape if he wanted... but it felt so wrong in all the right ways. He let himself be weak. Let himself lean into the warm, squishy softness of the Other. Let himself believe, just for a moment, that everything was going to be all right.

He closed his eyes.

And was right back into the cold, dark, grey and the hard floor of the cell he shared with Two. Sitting on the platform and watching as He had Two's arm and... snapped it.

One jolted away with a scream. This place was wrong! This place was a trick! This place was a trap! All he could say was "NO!" as he ran away from the Other. Wrestled open the door that neither of them had tried. Ran out and out and--

"NO!"

The black shape loomed before him. Frightened him into stillness. Made him cower on the ground and wait for death. He couldn't fight it. He was too weak.

(Toriel)

Too soon, damnit. For all that they needed comfort and love, it was too soon to expect them to accept it. But -oh- it felt so good to hold two children in her arms. Even if it was for a handful of seconds.

It hurt her heart when the smaller one started shrieking in fear. There was a book on this. The humans called it 'Shell Shock' amongst many other names[2]. But she knew it as Recurring Terrors. People who saw too many horrors, and saw them again and again, long after those terrors had finished. She let him run, and let the taller one follow.

She lagged behind, vision veiled behind her tears. They deserved more than she could give. They deserved far more than either of them would accept.

"Bruth'r," cooed the taller one. He hunkered near the smaller one, who was huddled at the base of the tree. The tree that never kept its leaves for long. She had seen it so often that she didn't think of it. It had to be frightening for them both.

"Bruth'r" the taller one repeated. "Issokay. I'm heer." Warm, comforting, orange light flared from his eyes and swarmed around them both.

The smaller one's ragged and dangerous breathing slowed. They both fell to embracing each other.

It had been wrong to give them separate beds. She could see that, now. What they needed the most was each other. One consistent thing amidst all these changes around them. Getting them to accept her was going to be a big step. Bigger, perhaps, than they would be prepared to take for... years...

And the loss of her own two children hit her like a hammer. It was an older wound, certainly, but having two children so close and yet out of her reach, seemed to rip it open anew. All she could do was her utmost to cry quietly.

(WDG-P2)

Something really weird happened. Just after he got One soothed out of his fear-cramp, he heard something strange. It sounded like... crying. But neither he nor One was doing it.

They both looked. Stared.

It was the Other. _They_ were the one doing all the crying.

"He never did that," said Two.

"...i know," said One. "...what if they grab us again?"

"Was it so bad the last time?"

One seemed to think about this. "...guess not." He shrugged and began a cautious approach. "...what's the worst that can happen?"

Two approached cautiously as well. They had been through a lot of the worst that could happen. And the Other was so much bigger than Him. Nobody could possibly hurt the Other. And yet... there they were. Weeping. Sitting on the ground and pushing their hands to their face and shedding real tears. They were huddled up like they were truly miserable.

One cautiously poked them. Then danced backwards as if expecting the Other to strike.

Sniff. Sob. Gulp, "I... I am sorry, little ones. I didn't mean to frighten you." Her voice fell to a whisper. "It has been... so _long_... since I held a child." They wiped their face with their sleeve. "Please do not be afraid. I would never harm you."

"...what?" said One.

"You said... 'sorry'," said Two. "He never said any such thing."

"...not without the word 'not' in front of it," rumbled One. "...what's the catch? ...why are you being... nice?"

The Other looked more than confused. Staring at the two brothers as if... well... He would call the Other 'stupid'. "It's the way people should be... especially to children. And... it's what you deserve."

Two turned to face his brother. "I think we should trust them."

====8<====

More... whenever.

[1] I'm assuming that, since these are _living_ skeletons, that soap and water will do no harm.
[2] Toriel is REALLY old. Or her source material is, since Monsterkind only has what humanity throws away.

I also love the stuffing out of Zarla-S: http://zarla-s.tumblr.com and hir handplates au: http://zarla-s.tumblr.com/post/139516306171/okay-i-get-a-lot-of-questions-about-what-order-the and seeing those little baby skelebros going through all sorts of inexplicable torture for no reason beyond science... Well... I has teh feelz.

So I'm giving them a happier life.

This one's improvised whenever I have mood enough and time. Questions are welcomed. As are edit suggestions.

So without further ado...

====8<====

Disclaimer: Undertale belongs to Toby Fox, long may he write ground-breaking games with such lovable characters. The Handplates AU belongs to Zarla-S, long may ze draw. And finally, the whole concept of Toriel rescuing the tortured Skelebros belongs to LoyaltyKask, who sent in the ask in the first place. Peace, love, and serendipity to you all. All I own is this story. I hope it's enjoyable.

Twice Upon a Dream
InterNutter

Abduction Day 1
(WDG-2P)

Something had... changed. Usually, when Two woke up, there was pain. And he was on the soft platform, the one that He used whenever recovery from experiments was... difficult. But there was no pain. Two risked opening an eye. Then the other. Perfect bi nocular vision, as He would say. Everything seemed normal. But it wasn't.

Normal was pain. Normal was the small room with the electric barrier and the hard platform that he and his brother were allowed to sit or sleep on. Though they usually preferred the floor. Normal was Him and His experiments. Normal was trying again and again to understand Why... and an absence of answers.

But here was not normal. Here was soft and warm and... better than the hard platforms. Two sat up. The walls were not grey. They were not any of the bold colours of the colour cube, either. He knew those names. White, Green, Red, Blue, Yellow, and Orange. This was... strange. A colour he could not name. It was almost like Red... but it was also like the Green of their clothes. Weaker.

And another strangeness. One was across the other side of the room, barely visible under his heavy, thick sheet. Just like Two's, but it had different patterns. It, like the platform, was soft and warm and it squished.

One was scared, Two could tell by the glow of his eye. Two only knew one way to help him feel better, but he dared not risk it. They were on the soft platforms for a reason.

"Brother," he whispered. "Are you hurt?"

"...no," said One. "...that's what's got me on edge... it's all wrong."

"I'm scared, too," said Two. "I wish we could be scared together."

Everything was strange. The light. The colours. The things scattered around the room. The flat thing on the floor and the big filing cabinet against the wall with only one door and the... shorter, flatter filing cabinet with weird draws. And the enormous box full of unfamiliar shapes. And the flat, square shapes on the wall with... colours inside. Nothing made sense, and Two wanted to be scared at the top of his lungs, but he knew that would summon Him.

So he put both hands over his mouth and tried to be scared as quietly as possible.

It didn't work. That, at least, was normal. Two was more than used to his efforts not working. But what happened next... it was so far away from normal that he almost fainted from the shock.

The door in the wall opened. Softly and slowly. And by degrees, a giant appeared. They were not Him, but they were something... Other. Other was White. And wore Blue. And Other was much, much bigger than Him. Two was so scared that he forgot about lying quietly on the soft platform and stood up. Other was not going to hurt One!

"Children?" said the Other. "I heard sounds. Are you awake?"

Two pressed himself against the Not-Quite-Red wall despite himself. The world wavered and darkened around him, and he wasn't sure that Other was doing it. "You keep back! Don't touch us!"

(Toriel)

They had been hurt when she found them, taking a covert route through the Underground and towards the Ruins. Whoever had left them there (Toriel had her suspicions, but could not prove them) was lucky that he or she was not present. There would have been quite the battle. As it was, she had taken them and fled. And spent quite a lot of herself trying to heal them. Poor children. They had taken so many hurts.

Now she could hear one of them whimpering, so of course she came to check on them.

What welcomed her was not gratitude, but suspicion and fear. The taller one got up and stood on his bed. The shorter one was hunkered under his covers. She had thought that giving them a warm, comfortable room with their own clothing to choose from and their own toys to play with would have been a welcome thing to do. She was wrong. They were more scared than they had been scarred.

Backed up against the wall, scared out of his wits and about to faint, the taller one spoke. "Yoo keebak! Dun tush us!"

Evidently, their tormenter had not taught them to speak properly. Just enough to make themselves understood, and no more. Toriel fought to keep an angry expression off her face. Fought to be what they needed. And what they needed was an abundance of kindness. "I promise all will be well," she cooed. "You are safe now. I will not harm you."

The smaller one moved around under his covers so he could peek out from the foot of the bed. "...yeh whassa catch? yoo withim?"

"Absolutely not," she said. "I was only down there once, but I saw more than enough to hate what he had done to you. There is no catch, child. Only a home."

The unfamiliar word stuck in both their throats. She could hear them repeating it under their breaths.

"Yes. Home. A place you will always belong within." Though she ached to hold them close and kiss them and gift them with every sign of parental love, she knew that would only frighten them. "I am baking a pie."

Blank skeletal expression from the taller, and unadulterated suspicion and hostility from the other.

"That's a form of food," she added. "When you are ready, you may come out and have some. I will be waiting for you." She left, and left the door open. Soon, they would smell the pie. And if they were like any other monster children, hunger would soon overwhelm their trepidation.

She had the pie cooked to perfection. Butterscotch and Cinnamon, because nothing tempted a child like sweet things. And she had enough magic to heal them quickly if they had an allergy. Toriel cut slices and let the rich scent flood her new house. Set them out on the table and kept them warm with her fire magic. Sat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Shuffling noises eventually made her look up from her book. Ah. There they came. Clinging to each other like they were all that they had in the world. That each of them was all that they could trust. She pretended to keep reading. They stopped when they spotted her.

"...itsa trik," said the smaller one.

"Smels _good_," said the larger one. "Hungry."

Both their bodies were rumbling. She could hear it. How long could they possibly resist the lure of sweet pie?

They edged around the doorway. Sidled along the wall. Made it all the way to the table.

Toriel remained still. She did whisper, "Yes. You may have some."

The taller of the two snatched a piece of pie off the table and split it into halves for the other. Both ate quickly and with their hands, while they hunkered on the floor. The smaller one never took his gaze off of Toriel.

(WDG-1S)

There had to be a trick. A catch. A trap. Something was very wrong with everything and One could not nail down what it was. This... other creature had to be something like Him. Had to be.

There just wasn't anything else.

But this... pi... tasted so _nice_. He was almost lost in the flavour of it. He was busy scraping crumbs out of his crevices when it finally happened. The Other stood up. He froze in place and reached for his brother. Too late to run. He hurried under the heavy chairs and hoped they were enough. The big white feet came closer. Closer and closer.

They had to be doomed!

But all that happened was another plate of pi. Resting just within their reach.

Unbelievable. And the Other just walked away. Back to the chair they had been sitting in earlier.

What kind of test was this?

One statched up the pi this time, splitting it in two for his brother. It made him feel good. It made them both feel good. Warm inside. And... better.

So very much better.

One would not sleep very well, that night. He had to keep watch. Because the only time when He was kind, was when He was setting up a newer, more painful experiment.

====8<====

Instalment one! What do you think? Keep going? Scrap it? Am I the epitome of evil? Say something!

By special request of the owner of the AU, I have removed both SPGRPG stories. They were pretty much abandoned, regardless.

If you really, really, really (times infinity) want to have them for your personal enjoyment only, reply here. And if I find them distributed, I'll know who to blame.

SPOILER WARNING! ==SPOILER WARNING!== SPOILER WARNING!

The fic you are about to read has MASSIVE SPOILERS for the SPG album _The Vice Quadrant: A Space Opera_! Read no further if you do not wish to be spoiled!

================8<===================


Disclaimer: Steam Powered Giraffe belongs entirely to Isabella and David Bennett, as well as Sam Luke, Steve Negrete, and anyone else they draft into their dramatic musical shenanigans. I just write fic based entirely off my own loony ideas. Please don't nick what little I have.

AN: SPOILER ALERT! This fic contains massive spoilers for, and wild-arse head-cannons inspired by, Steam Powered Giraffe's magnificent album, _The Vice Quadrant: A Space Opera_. Read no further if you don't wish to be spoiled or assaulted by head-cannons.

                                       The Pact
InterNutter

  Peter A. Walter IV had had his doubts about training with a Becile. Two prior generations of family history told him that it was bad news. Beyond bad news. In fact, it was such bad news that he preemptively requested that he train separately from Algernon Becile for as long as possible.
  What was really annoying was, no matter the roster, there was always some **** who got him and Becile confused. Apparently, the only difference was the hair. Which was almost always under some form of Space Wimple.
  He really, really wanted it made clear that he wanted nothing at all to do with Becile
  Alas, that would not be possible since his selection for the Cosmo's crew.
  Which meant that Pete had to meet him. Bury the hatchet. Smile and shake hands. For the sake of humanity.
  _Remember Uncle Norman. This guy could also be a statistical outlier._
  But there was a reason he'd taken a sub-orbital flight to test the suit. He needed time to get used to the idea of working with a Becile. The entire family was madder than a pack of rabid raccoons. Green matter did things to the brain, he knew it. Uncle Norman was living proof of that. And living proof of Nice Beciles.
  He had to stop blaming them for Pappy. What had happened to Peter A. Walter III had more to do with earlier Beciles than Algernon Becile. He wasn't even born when Rabbit's core had caused multiple Nightmare events through time and space.
  Walter Robotics was *still* picking up the mess from that one. Thank synchronicity for Government Contracts.
  He reached the apogee of his test flight. Looked out over his home. _Everyone I ever knew... lives there..._ It all looked so small and precious. And he wasn't even out of the atmosphere yet.
  Though the weird tingle through his blood stream was slightly worrying... He could feel his entire cardiovascular system. Weird.
  He ran through the checklist. All systems green. Everything was in perfect working order. Pete began the slow descent back to Canaveral. He'd done the actual thing he'd come up here to do. Now he had lots of time to think things through.
  Becile - Algernon Becile, that is - could not be blamed for the actions of his family. Just like he couldn't stop his own Pappy from making some... really... terrible decisions. One of the things that Government Contracts had to bite them all collectively bite them on the ass. Algernon was not to blame for that, either. He'd been just a kid when all that happened.
  One day, all of the Steam Powered Automatons would be re-united once more. He hoped. Once the government had finished with them.
  Walter Robotics was still trying to lure the government away from the heirloom robots by trying to produce shinier, more advanced bots. So far, little had worked.
  Not his fault. Not his Pappy's fault. Well... not entirely.
  Not Becile's fault.
  Just a series of dumb things out of their control. The Jon would say that holding a grudge was a waste of time, and time was limited for humans. Though... not in as many words. He'd say, "Life is short, so spread the love."
  It was ridiculous how hard he missed that loopy bot.
  For The Jon, then. And Uncle Norman, Rabbit and The Spine. He owed this new Becile half a chance. Just a chance. If he added Holly into the mix, he might even make it an entire chance.
  Pete pressed against his suit, where the locket rested. He couldn't take it out, not this high. The little metal heart pressed close to him. Holly. That beautiful, freckled face. That easy smile. Her laughter. Her love for everything on the entire planet. The way she had yawped, "COOL!" upon seeing Uncle Norman for the first time.
  She'd won the entire mansion's hearts, that day.
  Holly would give Becile a chance.
  That decided it.
 
  *
 
  Al watched the jet land. Perfect three-point landing, of course. He could understand why a Walter wouldn't want anything to do with him. Both their families had been fighting since the last century. With much chicanery on both sides, if the stories were to be believed.
  He kept his Space Wimple off so people wouldn't confuse him with Walter and keep asking him how the suit worked. He had black hair. Pete Walter was a blond. Other than that, they apparently looked practically identical.
  Al was prepared to bet that Pete Walter was pretty sick of it, too. Maybe when the base saw them together... the differences would stand out.
  Al had a few witnesses with him as he strode out to meet Walter on the runway.
  He was prepared for the posture as Walter spotted him. Body language that read, _What the hell?_ in large print.
  Then Walter took off his helmet. Revealing an identical face. Even their expressions were the same. The same bemused eyebrow making a break for the hairline. The same semi-snarl of disbelief.
  Walter dropped the helmet. Struggled to free himself of the heavy gloves. And then to wrench his head free of the wimple.
  Black hair emerged in a sweaty tangle of scruff.
  "Is this some kind'a joke, Walter? Why'd you dye your hair?"
  Walter pulled a strand in front of his eyes and stared at it. "It was blond when I went up... I'm as confused as you are... It must be something to do with blue matter exposure. Maybe it'll fade." He swept his hair back, and it was like looking into a mirror.
  "The resemblance is uncanny," they chorused.
  "Hey!" They said together.
  "Did you--" And again.
  "Stop that!" And _again_.
  They gave each other identical hairy eyeballs. Someone was taking photographs as fast as their Kodak would let them. Someone else was taking film.
  "Locker room," said Walter. "I need a shower and we both need to work this out."
  It annoyed Al that they even walked exactly the same.
  They even walked the same when they were angry.
  They got a lot of peculiar looks, all the way to the locker room. Which didn't help the overall mood any.
  "Something weird is going on," said Al. "I know that much. And none of us can help what's happening right now because of it."
  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," grumbled Walter. He hung up his suit. Skinned out of the rest of his clothes. The last thing to come off his body was a silver chain with a heart-shaped locket. This, he hung on a peg by the showers
  Naturally, the instant he was in the shower, Al had to look. A picture of the pair of them. Walter looking strange with his former blond hair, and a strawberry-blonde with a gorgeous array of freckles and an easy, heartfelt grin. Even the photo glowed with young love. The piece of paper on the other side read, _Fly with me, spaceman. Love you._ It was finished with two names. Peter and Holly. Joined with a heart.
  It was so cute he could gag.
  And just for a moment, a very brief moment, he could understand how his great-grandfather could go to war over a pretty girl.
  _If someone smiled at me like that... I'd destroy galaxies._
  Walter was glaring at him. Head oozing foam and suds. "That's not yours. The locket or what the contents represent."
  Al laughed and put it back. "You're a lucky guy, she looks fabulous."
  "It's not just her looks, pal," Walter began to wax lyrical as he scrubbed his hair. About Holly's smile, the way her freckles lined up when she genuinely laughed. About the way they'd both met and saved each other. About how they were both waiting to have the wedding until after all this space nonsense was done and dealt with.
  Al could hear the love in every word. Jealousy flickered and died out. In its place rose a fragile bloom of vicarious joy. He found himself saying, "Does she have a sister?"
  Walter laughed. "Sorry, she's fresh out of siblings." He emerged in a cloud of steam, vigorously towelling his hair. Which was still a scruff of black. "Didn't wash out?" he guessed.
  "Didn't wash out."
  Walter cursed and reached for the locket first. As if he wasn't dressed without it. "Well I don't feel like wearing name tags everywhere I go. Maybe the base has some Peroxide. No. Wait. That doesn't work on blue-mattered hair." Another curse. One far stronger. "Maybe if I always have the locket out in the open..." Walter started pulling on his clothes at last.
  "We could always put numbers on our shirts like linebackers," said Al. "I don't mind being number two. I have a ****ty family anyway."
  Peals of laughter. And the hint of a tear. "All right. You're okay. What do I call you?"
  "I prefer Al."
  "My friends call me Pete."
 
  *
 
  "Yeah, darling. Blue matter finally hit when I was up in the stratosphere," Pete said on the phone. "I'm now a brunette." Chuckles. "Oh, it was on the news? That's great. I don't need to warn you about anything else, then. I found out why. Al and I are time twins. Down to the second. Born at exactly the same moment. It has a proven effect on DNA." He spotted Al and waved. Absently signed, _My girl_ to him with his free hand. "Yeah, the boys at medical want to play with us, now. First scientifically documented case. They want to see how you cope, too. Don't mind being a guinea pig, do you? See you soon?"
  He was walking on air by the time he'd finished blowing kisses down the phone.
  Al was less than amused. "You are nauseatingly in love, did you know that?"
  "Jealous?"
  "Yes." Al laughed it off. "I wish I had someone who could make me feel like you look, buddy. You look like you're having a blast."
  "And a half," Pete agreed. It was an hour and a half, given good traffic, to the base from her current home amongst all the Astronaut Wives. He had time for a brief physical at Medical. And he had license to threaten them if they tried to turn it into an extended physical. Few around the base had missed how much he and Holly were in love, and fewer still were inclined to get in their way.
  He could only hope that one of those ****s wasn't in charge, today. "I have medical obligations before she gets here."
  "Have fun," smiled Al. "I have paperwork."
  "Euw."
  "Enjoy the mouse wheels."
  "Have fun on the SAT's."
 
  *
 
  Al watched him go before he checked the roster. One of the disapproving gooseberries was in charge of medical, today. Which meant that Pete would be in tests for about ten minutes before more sympathetic hearts could wrench Pete out of their grasp.
  Which meant he had a window of opportunity.
  Nobody had to know...
  And he and Walter did look astonishingly similar.
  Al powered through his paperwork as fast as he could so he could change into casual clothes and be waiting at the parking lot for Holly's car.
  She wore her hair long and loose, in free-flowing curls that moved as if they had their own willpower. She looked like a dream come to life as she sashayed out of the car and freed her hair from the scarf that had bound her hair.
  All he could think was, _God, she's beautiful..._
  Some dark corner hoped that this trick would work. That it would put a sliver of a wedge between them. That it would give him a chance to have her for himself. Al rationalised it by telling himself that it was only a dumb trick. That she'd see through it and no harm would be done. That you couldn't blame a guy for trying.
  Just a little taste of that love...
  It had to be worth it.
  Al copied Pete's easy smile. "Hi, darlin'," he said. "It's been too long."
  Holly looked him up and down just once and said, "It's been never and you know it. You're not my Pete."
  What?
  Al laughed. "Good one. Nobody else has been able to tell us apart. Hell, if we don't focus, we end up saying the same thing at the same time. It's creepy."
  "There he is," she cooed. And in that moment, she glowed.
  Pete was glowing too. All but flying across the ground to her.
  They spun as they collided. Kissed like they were slaking each other's soul-thirst with their lips.
  Such chaste and pure love could send evil blind.
  _I just want a little slice of that,_ thought Al. _Spare me a crumb?_
  Pete finally put Holly down with a satisfied sigh and a, "Missed you."
  "Yeah," Holly sighed back.
  Al had to comment. "Wow. That's the first time I've witnessed human simbiosis. How'd you two do it?"
  "Mutual rescue," grinned Holly.
  Their hands intertwined like they belonged together. They floated in step towards the new lab. Designed to test how far this time twin phenomenon worked. Something Al was not looking forward to because it was also testing natural twin phenomenon like phantom sensations and twin telepathy.
  It was already shaping up to be a long day.
  Holly's presence was just going to make it even longer.
  "You sure you don't have a sister?" he begged.
  "Sorry," sang Holly.
  "Cousin?"
  "Nope."
  "Aunty your age?"
  "No."
  "Some distant relative who looks a lot like you?"
  "No again."
  "Girlfriend who wants someone almost exactly like your boyfriend?"
  Chiming giggles. "Are you really that desperate, Lieutenant Becile?"
  "I'm lonely," he pleaded. "Seeing you two together kind'a makes me painfully aware of that."
  "Well I can't help you. Sorry," her smile was so bright. So cruel. "You'll have to find love on your own."
  Story of his life. All the women he wanted were with someone else, and they didn't know anyone who wanted him. And his few and scattered attempts at random flirting just scared the girls away.
  The few girls on the base had begun finding something else to do when he entered their sphere of notice, too.
  Sometimes, life was just not fair.
 
  *
 
  Lieutenant Becile had been right. Watching and listening to them doing the exact same thing was creepy. Lt Becile had every single one of Pete's mannerisms. Even his inflections were identical. And often in concert with Pete.
  The boffins were now doing different tests on them. Pete was doing dexterity competency tests while Lt Becile was strapped into a device guaranteed to induce vertigo.
  Pete broke out in a cold sweat on the monitors. He was breathing just as hard as Lt Becile. Though she fancied Becile looked decidedly greener than Pete.
  "...so dizzy," Pete whispered.
  "...twist it left," slurred Becile.
  She could actually see their flight engineer, watching in the same overview post, mouth the words, "What the hell?"
  "That is *uncanny*," said General Bristol.
  Both men threw up at exactly the same time.
  "Proximity isn't any kind of interference," said Doctor Smith. "We could test one of them in San Fransisco and the other in New York, and we'd get the same results."
  Holly watched the nurses swarm, putting both men on stretchers and administrating palliative care.
  "I'm interested in the cognitive advantages in times of stress," added Smith. "They seem to link their minds as... I don't know... parallel problem-solvers."
  "Parallel processors," said Holly. "I've been designing some for the WINK probes."
  General Bristol stared at her. "The WINK probes."
  "If you don't know about the project, I'm not allowed to tell you," she said. "My bad for mentioning it. I thought you knew because the programs are linked."
  More staring.
  "What? You expect me to be dim because I'm pretty?" She smiled at the assembled men. "You guys really messed up when you decided to exclude women from your program. There's a reason why Walter Technologies is leaps and bounds ahead of its competitors."
  To a man, they all looked at their Waltercorp technology as if it suddenly had become radioactive.
  "Yes," she singsonged, "it aaaaallll has girl cooties. Grow *up*, gentlemen. You really need to. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to help my boyfriend feel a little better after that ordeal." The looks on their faces as she literally skipped out of the room was worth a billion dollars.
 
  *
 
  The link between them was growing stronger. Al could feel Holly's fingers running through Pete's hair. Her hand in his. And when he opened his eyes, all he had by his bedside was a rather plain, mousy nurse who wouldn't make eye contact.
  He tried flirting anyway. Brushing her hand with his and putting on his best smile. "Don't suppose you'd like to be *my* angel of mercy?"
  She went bright red and mumbled, "...you're teasing..."
  Well, at least she wasn't running away. Maybe he had a chance with this one. "Not at all. It's been my experience that all girls are beautiful when they smile."
  There it was. Slightly askew teeth peeking out of pink lips that dimpled her reddened cheeks. "...stop it..."
  He ran his index finger up and down her pinkie. "Are you sure you really want me to? I'm starting to think maybe you and I could start something wonderful together..."
  She withdrew her hand. Coughed. "...ihaveaboyfriend..."
  Damnit.
  "Oh. Sorry." Al sighed, looking up at the ceiling so that he didn't have to look at people in love. "All I want is someone to hug and kiss me," he mock-wailed. "Why is that so hard to find?"
  O god, Pete and Holly were hugging each other. He could feel it. He could *smell* her.
  Why didn't this damned thing come with an 'off' switch?
 
  *
 
  Out in the depths of space... and ancient probe powered by radiation passed through a purple nebula of gas and nucleotides. And that could have been the end of it, if it wasn't for a bolt of blue energy, from a long-ago explosion.
  On Earth, such energy had released nightmares.
  Out here... it sort of did, too.
  The nebula ate the probe, first. Ate the knowledge and learned where both probe and energy had come from. It learned of _human_. It learned of _hunger_. It learned of _want_.
  _We... are..._ it thought. _We... are... lonely._
  This way. This way to the tiny blue orb where the things had come from.
  Maybe it could ask it...
  Why?
 
  *
 
  They had a dance before the launch, of course. Showing off their astronauts and some cleared technology to the investors who made it all possible. And to show willing, the military had even shipped in Colonel Walter's Steam Man Band for the event. And some Walter Technicians to make sure the ancient automatons didn't malfunction in the middle of a hob-nob hoedown.
  Al watched them cautiously. They must have known he was a Becile just by looking at him As if their electronic optics could detect the traces of green matter in his blood. But he stuck to his chair like he was glued to it. It wasn't as if there were many girls he could dance with. The only one who wanted to was twelve years old and star-struck so hard that she thought he was Pete.
  He let her have a dance, of course. Nothing flirtatious. Let her think that he was Pete until her dying day. At least he could make one girl on this Earth happy.
  Pete had barely taken his eyes off of Holly all night long. She was similarly glued to him. The only people in the world for each other.
  The bots on the stage started a number that sounded a lot like a tango. Very Latin-American.
  "You got me feelin', you got me feelin', oh oh... I'm over the moo-oo-oo-oon."
  Of course. Any space-related shindig had to have space-related love songs. Al watched the robots so that he didn't have to watch Pete. If he closed his eyes, he could feel her against him and it almost drove him mad.
  Nobody in this wide world had looked at Al like Holly looked at Pete.
  On stage, Rabbit was playing with his mike like it was an imaginary lover. Dipping it and caressing it like he could be making out with it at any given moment.
  But then again, this was the robot who had famously had an eight-minute affair with a toaster. Who knew what it was into?
  That dancing of his was getting thoroughly risque. Combined with the concussive "Oh! Oh! Oh!"s, it practically painted a picture... treading a fine line that most people at this 'do didn't get at all. But Holly and Pete definitely did. He blushed blue. She turned pink. Both giggling to each other like...
  ...like teenagers who had nearly been caught making out by a parental figure...
  Al put it together in seconds. All those wet dreams when Pete was home on leave.
  They hadn't been waiting in complete purity, then.
  He had to go outside to cool off. Realisations like this made him want to punch something. And that would make him look like every other lust-crazed Becile in his messed-up family history.
  _I am not my crazy ancestors. I'm going to be different. I'm going to win some woman's heart and share my life. Not try to own anyone._
  "It's going to be okay, Al my pal," soothed Pete. He was without his significant other. "After the flight, I'll propose to Holly and you, my friend, are going to have hundreds of lovesick space fans to pick from."
  "Yeah sure," he laughed. "Maybe some of them will be over twenty-one."
  Pete got the giggles too. "I thought you cut a striking figure with little Mary Sue Morgandorfer."
  "She thought I was you. I wasn't going to kill her dreams." He looked up to the moon. Someday, they would have bases up there. And elevators that went all the way up to it. How different would it be, in that not-so-distant future? "Speaking of striking figures, where is your other half?" What a comfortable phrase. Other half. It made him feel incomplete by comparison.
  "Swapping gossip with the other girls in the Ladies' Bathroom, of course." He smiled. "Hope she doesn't give away too many secrets."
  "Like the holiday fun you two had and why she's not pregnant?"
  "How'd you--? Oh. Wait. Nevermind. Sorry. I -ah- forgot." He blushed blue.
  "We have *got* to find a way to turn this thing off. All the boffins have been able to do is enhance it."
  Pete cleared his throat. "For the record, there's more than one way to keep a girl happy. And there's zero risk involved."
  Al could weep. He really could. "It's not fair," he moaned. "I'd give anything for an off switch."
  "Well... there is one thing... You won't like it."
 
  *
 
  Pete took Al to his lab, where assorted Matter experiments. "Technically, this is above your pay grade, but since this time twin thing is driving us both crazy..."
  "Wait. What am I doing to you?"
  "I keep feeling your heart breaking, buddy. It's brutal."
  Al looked dumbstruck. "I... had no idea..."
  "It's okay. I remember what it was like to want love. Everything's all about yourself and it hurts." He wove through the mazes of glass to find a bubbling red potion that smoked. It had been in an ice bath, not over a bunsen burner. "This is a formula I've been working on that should latch on to the green matter in your blood and the blue matter in mine and use that to distinguish our DNA enough to sever the link. Or at least tone it down to the point where we can ignore it again." He carefully measured even amounts into test tubes.
  "Is this one of the famous Walter kill-or-cure things?"
  "We've had more cures than kills, for the record."
  "What the hell is in this stuff?"
  "Red Matter. Greatly diluted to the point where it won't burn your tongue out." Pete managed a nervous rictus. "There's the equivalent of one grain in there. Aught to be plenty."
  "If I spontaneously combust, I want my headstone to say you talked me into this."
  "Deal. And I want mine to say I did this for a friend."
  "Deal."
  They drank.
  It burned on the way down. Pete could feel it in stereo. Sinking into his gut and blooming out through his blood vessels.
  _I can feel it in my veins,_ thought Al. And he knew it was Al doing the thinking.
  _Damnit... I'm so sorry..._ His entire circulatory system felt like it was on fire. A feeling that settled into his racing heart. Just as it did with Al's.
  The fire faded, apart from a sensation akin to mild heartburn. Still in stereo.
  Pete imagined a wall. An impenetrable wall between himself and Al. The duality of his sensations faded to a singularity... and then faded completely.
  Al's crooked grin and stuttering laugh was worth a fortune. "That's amazing. I really thought I was gonna die for a minute."
  "You picture a wall between us, too. It might help."
  Al frowned, and then grinned. "Holy ****. Holy ******! It's working! You're a genius. You're a god-damned mad genius."
  They clapped hands together in a celebratory handshake... and the walls shattered. Once again, they were closer than ever before. Joined thought. Joined feeling. Joined souls...
  Both backed away as if they'd been burned.
  "Okay," they chorused. "Touching is out."
  "Damnit!"
  "Walls!"
  Holly was watching them as they snuck out of the lab. "So it worked, huh? Glad you're not dead."
  "It was kill or cure, darling. And it works as long as we don't touch."
  "And we have to think about walls," added Al. "Half a cure's better than nothing, right?"
  "Now all we have to do is cure your lady problem."
  "Doubt you have a bottle of Love Potion Number Nine in here."
  More laughter. Not that what he'd said was terribly funny. It was that they had both come so close to dying that everything was funny. They were laughing through sheer relief. Glad to laugh. Glad to breathe. Glad to live.
  Pete sought his relief in Holly's lips and the feel of her hair. Relieved at the absence of echoing heartache from Al. He came up for air to find Al staring up at the stars in the dark.
  "You okay, pal?"
  "...it's... even lonelier... without you there." He wiped his face on his sleeve. "I'm gonna go back in there and flirt outrageously with every girl I see. *Someone* has got to be available. Or even willing."
  "That's the spirit. Never give up."
  It was only after the evening was over and they walked together to their bunks that he broached the subject. "Al? If something weird happens up there because of my Blue Matter? If it endangers the crew... I expect you to kill me quickly."
  "Same for me, Pete. Only with the Green Matter. We both know that ****'s unstable."
  "And the red matter."
  "Jesus, we're atom bombs waiting to happen."
  And that, too, was funny for all the wrong reasons.
 
  *
 
  Strapped in. Staring out the windows at the sky. Hundreds of yards above the ground. Strapped to a glorified firework and held together by the prayers of a nation.
  In a few short hours, they would all be household names.
  Walter, Becile, Fenton and Dwight.
  In a few short hours, they would all be irresistible.
  "Nervous?" murmured Pete.
  "Hell yeah," giggled Al. This was the ultimate expression of 'do or die'. It was possible to have both happen.
  They ran the third systems check. Everything was green.
  "Heard you tried to sing to your girl," said Fenton. He was the one going out with the mousy nurse. Candace.
  Pete laughed. "Yeah... it didn't go too well."
  "It's the only thing different about us," joked Al. "I can actually *sing*."
  Nervous laughter abounded.
  Mission Control interrupted. "All right, Cosmo. We're ready to launch. T minus one minute."
  Translation: cut the cackle, you're all live.
  "Roger that, Mission control," said Al.
  "I *will* return," murmured Pete.
  Al knew for a fact that Pete had been getting cosy with Holly until the very last possible instant. He'd 'peeked' through his 'wall'. Vicariously enjoying what it felt like to be loved so completely.
  He had the wall back up, now. He didn't need it for this stage in the mission. Until they passed the stratosphere, all they had to do was hang on and pray that they didn't blow up.
  T minus 10.
  Four hearts raced in unison. Four men were very glad of the space diapers they wore. Four men got intensely religious as the engines fired up and it was impossible to hear their prayers.
  9.
  Four men started to feel the engines pushing them up.
  8.
  The rocket shuddered as the clamps released.
  Four pairs of hands gripped their harnesses with white-knuckled tension,
  7.
  Four men began to have trouble breathing as the rockets strained to lift tons of equipment and fuel from the ground.
  6.
  Four men sank slightly into their cushioned seats.
  Four faces distorted with the G-forces.
  5.
  Clouds of vapour obliterated their view of the sky.
  4.
  Four men concentrated on not blacking out.
  3.
  Four hearts raced to tachycardia levels of activity.
  2.
  Al swore he heard Pete cry out, "I love you, Holly!" and thought, _I love her, too._
  1.
  The horizon started to change. Curve more.
  Lift-off confirmed!
  It was impossible to move. Barely possible to breathe. Al could still pray, so he prayed, _Lord, do not let me die alone..._
  Blue skies faded down to dark. Not the night, but the endless black of the cosmos. Al's first unencumbered breath was heaven. No feeling short of love could envy this. He knocked his walls down and focussed on the instrument panel.
  Freefall was a tangible relief.
  "Houston, we are establishing orbit," said Pete. His walls were down, too. Elation and relief echoed back and forth. "The view is incredible."
  "Roger that, Cosmo. We're keeping an eye on you from down here. Stand by for contact from Parkes."
  "Roger."
  Al and Pete shared identical grins. And thumbs'-ups with Fenton and Dwight. They had clearance to move around the re-entry vehicle and the support capsule.
  There were experiments to run while they were aiming for ten orbits around the Earth. A new record.
 
  *
 
  The blue orb wasn't talking to them. It got closer. To the very edge of its air. Where an artificial moon sailed around.
  Several things happened at once.
  A blue bolt of light speared it, on the same vector to hit the capsule.
  It felt two minds think of the same face.
  It... split.
  One half went along the beam, into something inside the artificial moon. Satellite. Yes. It was called satellite. It was called Cosmo.
  She was 'she'. She was... 'daughter'. She was... alone. She was... in pain!
  Where was the other who was with her?
  The other had to come back!
  She followed the scattering shards of the satellite. No longer orbiting the silent blue orb. The other had to be in it.
  She had... fingers. Yes. And... claws. YES! They cut through the metal like it was fragile. Two forms similar to her own were within.
  But where was the other?
  She didn't understand.
  She picked one of the forms. The... people. Yes. The other had to be inside one of them.
  Carefully, methodically, she began pulling one apart. Trying to find where the other had gone. It had to be in here. Somewhere. Somewhere inside the smaller and smaller pieces.
  She had to find it.
  The other one of the people was gone. Vanished in a purple streak of light. She roared her frustration and tore more of the satellite into littler bits. It wasn't working. Where was the other?
  Wait. That piece wasn't a piece. That was another people!
  She moved towards it. Felt its mind.
  So much like the other.
  She felt its love. Changed herself, unconsciously, to match the images in his mind.
  He was a 'he'. And he loved her. And he was... gasping. Yes.
  Dying!
  NO!
  She would not let him die! She needed the love.
  She took him inside her energy. Revitalised him on a cellular level. The... suit. Yes. The suit-thing around him suffered damage, but she made certain that he did not. He was alive as long as they were together.
  She flew away with him. Holding him tight and feeding off the endless love that made her hurts feel less.
  Yes. This was what she needed. This... astronaut. Yes.
  He was hers.
  Just like the debris with the pictures inside was hers. It had her face in there. And his face too. All hers.
  The astronaut was hers.
  And nothing would take him away.
 
  *
 
  Split.
  Pain.
  Flying.
  Garbled words. "Come in... Walter... Cosmo..." Static and incomprehensible noises filled the in-betweens.
  Someone... someone was trying to talk to...? Him?
  Yes. Him.
  He was... Commander... Walter? Commander... Cosmo? They were both names. His shattered memories knew that much. He was flying so fast that time was flowing backwards.
  This was... wrong.
  How could he be alive?
  He made himself slow down just by thinking about it. Came to a relative stop. Touched his feet upon a rocky moon where no man had gone before.
  Impossible...
  Pappy... (who was Pappy?) had believed in six impossible things before breakfast.
  There was someone he'd made a promise to. Someone... he had to come back to.
  He was a long way away. And a long time ago.
  Maybe he'd learn what he could do and who he could help along the way back.
 
  *
 
  Al had hit his escape releases without thinking. Now he was trapped in the depths of space. Somewhere between the Earth and... he had no frame of reference. The vectors were entirely messed up. He couldn't even find Earth.
  But he found her.
  So beautiful.
  Her hair was made out of lasers and she... she was made out of cosmic forces. Nebulas for her skin. Cosmic energy in her freckles.
  Casually pulling apart the Cosmo as if she was looking for something.
  O God. O God, no.
  She was pulling apart Fenton like he was another *thing* to destroy.
  "Stop it," he said. "That's not right. Leave him alone."
  He couldn't tell if she heard him, but she dropped the tattered fragments of Fenton and worked on the remains of the capsule.
  Al couldn't help it. She was so lovely.
  His oxygen was running out. The scrubbers couldn't keep up with the carbon dioxide build-up in his suit.
  He was dying.
  Sorry, mom. Sorry, Holly. Sorry, Fenton. Sorry Houston...
  ...so sorry...
  He kept his eyes on the entity. The daughter of space. If he was going to go out doing one thing, it was going to be admiring a being worthy of admiration.
  Terrible and fantastic and glorious and wonderful and fearsome and...
  She was coming closer.
  Unfiltered radiation was messing with his brain. Accelerating the damage started by the lack of oxygen.
  _Are you willing to be my angel?_ He summoned the energy for one last smile. Just as his eyes shut for the last time.
  And he awoke in her arms. Watching her laser hair tear apart... moons?
  He didn't question it. He didn't dare.
  He was with her. And it was indescribable.
  "Who are you?" he said. There was no air to say it with. And he didn't dare ask why he was still alive.
  "Who are you?" she echoed.
  "I am..." he faltered. There used to be a name. He couldn't find it any more.
  "You are astronaut," she said. Her voice soothed his worries from his mind.
  "Yes." A name appeared, but it wasn't his. "You are Cosmica." It was poetry on his tongue. She was his world. His universe.
  The stars could shatter and he wouldn't care, as long as she was with him.
  "I love you," he said.
  "I love you," she echoed.
  No human body could contain the feelings she gave him. And he was still hungry for more.
  The only answer was to become... less... human.

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Comments? Opinions? I'm still not finished with this, there's more to come!

OK, so ModMad gave us the last names of these peeps and I had to change things so I'm reposting everything I've got:

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SKIP Revamped: The Case of the Alliterative Arsonist
InterNutter

The nice thing about London, the really nice thing about it, was that money got you into places and gained you things one would otherwise not believe.

The other nice thing was that, should one look hard enough, one could get others to pay you to do anything.

For example, a Kosher Butcher's a mere hop skip and a jump away from Arthur Steed's original and masochistic choice of residence actually paid Arthur to 'dispose' of the blood they could not, by faith, be allowed to touch. He got paid in pounds to hire some clean gentlemen for pennies to pump the blood into kegs and deliver them to a much better address.

An address conveniently close to a theatre he now owned. A theatre who now had a permanent place for Mesi to act -or dance- or sing as prima diva. A theatre where the managers assumptions about audience tastes were repeatedly and vastly proven wrong.

M'me Mesi Jailoh was making her mark. In more ways than one.

Every day, Arthur would read the higher class of newspapers and neatly circle anything that looked... interesting. And Mesi would go through the -ah- tawdrier publications, and do likewise.

They had both learned that their most interesting and profitable cases were the ones that matched up in both.

Mesi was the one who noticed about the fires. Arnham's in Abbotsford Avenue. A butcher's in Babel Place Borough. A Crafthouse in Cabal Cottages, Camberwell. The list went on all the way to the F's. The fires all began mysteriously when nobody should have been present. All the establishments were well guarded and there was no one beneficiary from the insurance.

Nobody saw anyone suspicious.

And the real advantage for their supplementary income was that the arsonist worked at night. Which meant that Arthur could join her on her investigations without raising any eyebrows.

It wasn't normally done for a gentleman to stroll the streets under the shade of a parasol. And all attempts to conceal him thusly as a lady were... laughable.

Mesi checked her maps and found what she believed to be the arsonist's next target.

Gainsborough Gardens, Golders Green.

The miscreant would not be able to stay away from such a place. Their next trouble was, of course, figuring out the criminals' actual target.

And since it was still daytime as they went together on their exploratory excursion, Arthur was dressed as a woman in full mourning, by Mesi's side. Mesi wore staid black clothing in solidarity, silently taking note of all the G-named streets and businesses.

Arthur spent a majority of the time grumbling both under his breath and under his parasol.

"Oh hush, dear, you look fabulous as a girl," Mesi murmured as she took more notes. "Just let me know if you feel like you're getting the vapours, please."

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PLEASE give me some alliterative London place names! PLEEEEEAAAAAASSSSE!