Susan was feeling rather bored. There wasn't much to do in the monster prison, other than watch television. She was grateful that at least she had that option, but it was still a prison and could feel very depressing when she let her thoughts wander. She wanted to talk to someone. Bob was, well, never the best conversationalist. Link was better, but tended to get a little touchy when she indicated that being a monster was not the best way to live. And the Doc was working on something in the middle of the room that occasionally generated sparks and the odd bang. Wondering what it was, Susan ambled over to his experiment.

"Hiya Doc," she called. "Whatcha working on?"

"A little project for my own amusement," Cockroach said. "Just to test out one or two hypotheses I have."

"About me? I mean, about the Quantonium?" Susan asked.

"Ah, no, I'm afraid not," he admitted. "I'm somewhat at a dead end there. None of my experiments have worked so far, and I think I need to take a radically new approach. I'd love to be able to get a couple of papers from this. Maybe give a presentation at the Royal Society. Who knows—if I can explain all the properties of Quantonium I could even get the Nobel Prize!"

"Cool," Susan said. She sat down on the floor and watched him work.

"Is there anything I can help you with, my dear?" he asked.

"No, I just like watching you potter away," she said. "Mostly I watch you because I think you're working on some way to get me back to normal. But even if you're not, I like watching you work."

"Did you—do you like to watch Derek work?" Cockroach asked.

Susan shook her head. "He doesn't really like people watching him work. I mean, he's a weatherman, and so he stands in front of a greenscreen, which means unless you're actually watching the monitor, it looks rather like he's playing Charades drunk."

Cockroach laughed, a more subtle one than his usual maniacal giggle.

"Hey, Ginormica," Link said, bounding into the common room. "Not watching TV?"

Susan shook her head. "Not really in the mood today. And stop calling me that silly name."

"Ginormica? You don't like it? I think it's cool. Not as cool as… da-duh! The Missing Link! But still pretty cool."

"Is it because Monger said you had to be called that?" Cockroach asked.

"A bit," Susan admitted. "But why such an… awkward name? Why not something more feminine, like… I don't know."

"Amazonia?" Link suggested.

Susan shook her head. "Something… delicate, elegant," she suggested, resting her elbow on her knee and leaning her head on her hand. "It's hard enough being a fifty-foot giant and trying to be a woman, you know."

"Not really," Link admitted. "I've never tried it."

"Oh come on, you know what giants are," Susan said. "Great big hairy beasts. Hagrid from Harry Potter. Giants are always great lumbering brutes."

"And stupid," Link added.

"Yeah, thanks," Susan shot back. She turned back to Cockroach. "I mean, why couldn't I have become a… well, a cuter monster? I dunno. Something smaller. Instead I'm this great gigantic lump. Sometimes I wish I was a guy, since at least guys are supposed to be big and strong. How can I be delicate and cute when I weigh nearly twelve tons, with 27-foot hips?"

She took a deep breath, trying not to cry again. It was hard, not to give into despair each time she thought about what had happened to her. "And to top it all off I get given this stupid ugly name, Ginormica. Like, I'm ginormous, right? I'll bet Monger really spent ages thinking that one up."

"Knowing him, he probably did, actually," Cockroach countered. "But you're right. I'm sure we can do better. Something more feminine."

"Megagirl? Monsterina? Biggia?"

"Those are silly, Link," Susan said with a slight smile.

"Titanica?" Cockroach mused. "Oh. Ah, I have it! How about Titania?"

"Titania? Titania…" Susan mused. "It's better than 'Titanica' I guess."

"Oh, it's much better," Cockroach said with a huge grin. "It's from Ovid's Metamorphoses, an epic Classical Roman poem about the history of the world. It's the name given to the daughters of the Titans. And you know the best part?" the mad scientist added with glee.

Susan shook her head.

"It's also the name of the Queen of the Fairies in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. So it's both suitable for a giantess, a true titan, and it's exquisitely feminine!"

"That's beautiful, Doc," Susan said. "I like it! Titania, the Fairy Giantess!"

"Indeed…. My mistress with a monster is in love, Near to her close and consecrated bower…" Cockroach recited. "And I, of course, am a perfect fit for Bottom."

"Bottom?" Susan asked, wondering what on earth he meant, and hoping it wasn't what she thought it was.

"Bottom's a character in the play," Cockroach explained. "He has an ass's head. You haven't read A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

Susan shook her head. "I haven't read anything Shakespeare wrote. I did see the movie about Romeo and Juliet though."

"You have never read Shakespeare?" Cockroach asked. "Forgive me for saying this, but what sort of school did you go to?"

"You know, the usual sort," Susan said. "It wasn't any sort of school for geniuses, like I'm sure you went to."

"Actually I went to Eton," Cockroach admitted. "Not too many geniuses there, to be honest. But they did ram the old classics into one pretty thoroughly."

"Not me. I think we did some Shakespeare in English, but I never really paid much attention. King Lear, or something. I just remember something about siblings and serpents' teeth."

"Well, Lear has three daughters, but I think you mean 'sibilance,' as in How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child," Cockroach told her.

"Do you know everything?" Susan asked.

"No, no, not at all. I don't know how this Quantonium stuff works, for a start," Cockroach said. "But yes, I do have a strangely retentive memory for trifles."

"I don't," Susan admitted. She sighed. "Perhaps being a giant is best for me. I am pretty thick, I guess."

"Whatever made you say that?" Cockroach asked, looking shocked.

"Well, you know, you keep talking about Shakespeare and literature and quoting things and science and physics and mathematics and philosophy and art and… and I don't follow any of it. I mean it goes whoosh, way over my head."

"Yeah, that would be a long way up," Link grinned, looking up at Susan.

"But why would you think you are thick, for not following all those things?" Cockroach asked.

"I dunno. I mean, I was never the smartest kid in class or anything, you know," Susan said.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Cockroach said soothingly. "Not all of us can be geniuses."

"And frankly, Doc, you don't help much," Susan added.

"I don't? What's the problem?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I mean, I'm sure you don't mean it," she said. "It's just that… you can be a little, well, condescending at times."

"Yeah, I'd say that's a fair call," Link added. "Or, you can be an insufferable know-it-all, which is how I would put it."

"I... Really? Do I come across as arrogant?" Cockroach looked shocked.

"In a way," Susan said. "Sometimes. Not always," she hastened to add. "It's just that sometimes, when you're explaining something, and I don't follow you, since I don't have a PhD in physics or anything, you do this thing with your eyes and voice… It just… makes me feel dumb."

"I assure you, my dear, that was never, ever my intention," Cockroach assured her. "I wouldn't dream of trying to make you feel inferior."

"I'm sure it wasn't deliberate," Susan agreed. "But you're so brainy, and I'm so… well, dumb. I mean, I know I'm not a genius or anything. I didn't do all that great in school. But everyone seems to think I'm dumber than I really am. I'm not dumb, I'm just confused!"

"Of course you are," Cockroach said. "I mean, when it comes to what's happened to you, I'm confused myself. I'm supposed to be the genius PhD, one of the world's leading biophysicists, and I'm completely confused."

"Yes, but you'll get there in the end," Susan said. "That's what geniuses do. I never do."

"You just never had to really make an effort," Cockroach told her. "You're not stupid, you're just ignorant."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Susan asked, shocked.

"Of course—all ignorant means is that you don't know. I am ignorant of many things, myself. Horse breeding, for example."

Susan giggled at that.

"I'm sorry if this sounds harsh, my dear, but people treated you as not too bright because you never gave them any reason not to. Nothing was ever really demanded of you, other than to fit in."

"And now?" Susan asked.

"Now your fishbowl has been broken, if you'll pardon the metaphor. Your life has been changed. Things are being demanded of you. Constantly. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Ignorance is no longer bliss. You need to grow intellectually as well as physically."

"You think I can?"

"Without a doubt. Your IQ is comfortably above average, believe it or not."

"It is?" Susan looked at him in surprise.

He nodded. "Monger has your standardized testing results. I've seen them. So don't let anyone make you think that just because you're attractive you don't need to be smart, or because you're a giant you should be stupid. You're brawn and brains, my dear."

Susan blushed.

"I would love the chance to help you fulfil your whole potential," he told her. "Help you to understand, expand your horizons beyond those of Modesto, California. It's a whole new world out there."

"You make it sound so amazing, to know all these things. And you're so good at explaining them, most of the time. Could you… teach me a few things? Help me to understand things better?"

Cockroach felt a thrill rush through him.

"Of course I can. I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid. I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder…" he began.

"Doc," Susan interrupted quietly.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Those are Disney song lyrics, you know."

"Sorry," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck and not meeting her eyes. "Got a bit carried away there. But there is nothing so thrilling for a teacher as a willing pupil. In my own humble way, I will do what I can. Where would you like to start?"

"How about by telling me the story of Titania, and the Titans, and the fairy queen?" Susan asked.

"With pleasure," Cockroach said. "Relax, as we send our minds to the dawn of myth… Now, the Titans were powerful deities, immortal, huge beings of great strength and stamina. Much like yourself. They ruled the cosmos until they were overthrown by the Olympians, Zeus and the rest. They were the sons and daughters of Gaia and Uranus…"

Susan lay down on the floor, resting her chin in her hands, and listened intently as Cockroach began to expand her universe, to take the small-town girl on journeys to worlds she had never dreamed of, freeing her mind from the confines of her underground prison and letting her soul take flight…

. . . . . . .

JUST A FEW NOTES: This is set some time in the first week or so at the Monster Containment Facility. This little vignette came about for two reasons. One is that I rather felt "Ginormica" as a name lacked a certain elegance: it's clearly chosen with an eye to the comedy potential, and, while I have retained her official name, I wondered if there weren't more suitable alternatives. The other inspiration was the official movie posters of Ginormica as "Brains and Brawn." Brawn, definitely, but to be honest, she doesn't come off as overly brainy in the film. Certainly not remotely stupid, but nothing that to me would justify a "Brains and Brawn" tagline. So I decided to see if she felt the same way, especially with all of Dr C's sciencey stuff, and used this as another way for her to grow past the limitations of her old life.

While pretty obvious, "My mistress with a monster is in love" is indeed a quote from A Midsummer Night's Dream, which I think is sort of apt here. Incidentally, the "Art of MvA" book says Dr C's PhD is in literature, but I am not entirely sure how canon that is, or whether the author was getting confused about what a PhD is. Granted, it makes more sense than one in dance... And explains how he can quote Shakespeare off the top of his head like that.

Susan's hip measurement is based on her having 36" hips in normality. The "strangely retentive memory for trifles" is from Sherlock Holmes. Hugh Laurie did in fact go to Eton, so I have had Dr C share that.