Day #7

Fry falls over his own feet, when he opens the apartment door to find Leela waiting on his doorstep.

"Leela?"

She catches him, smiling.

"Hi there."

"Hi!" Fry says. His voice drops back into a more normal range. "Uh. Hey, Leela."

He's out of breath, staring at her half in a daze, and all of a sudden Leela could kick her past self. How many times has he looked at her like this? How many times did he short-circuit like this, out of the blue? And she always wrote it off as a brain freeze, as Fry just being Fry, when the truth is, he's reacting to her.

It's her, smiling at him, that has this effect on him.

Bender interrupts this epiphany by appearing over Fry's shoulder and snorting, "Who put happy pills in your Admiral Crunch?"

Leela smacks him upside the head. It's the only acceptable response.

While Fry is laughing she pulls out her wallet and tosses it at Bender.

"Here. Take it," she tells him. "Consider this a one-time free pass at my credit cards. There's some cash in there too. Go nuts."

"You're nuts." Bender flips open the wallet, inspecting the expiry on her AmEx card. "What's the catch?"

Leela still has her hand on Fry's arm. He doesn't seem to have noticed. But he notices when she slides her hand down his forearm and tangles her fingers in his.

She keeps her eye on Bender's face.

"Get out of here. And don't come home until tomorrow."

Fry lets her lead him into the apartment. Lets her lead him to the couch and push him gently down.

He lets her wipe the blood from his cheek, and lets her climb onto his lap, and stares at her like a man under a spell as his hands find her waist and her fingers trace his cheek.

He swallows.

"Um, Leela? I want to be clear. I'm into this. So into it. Totally digging . . ." He makes an ineloquent gesture in the space between them. "This. Just, uh . . . what is this? Because I'm not sure."

Leela sighs.

"You know that movie Groundhog Day? We're in Groundhog Day, Fry. I'm Phil Connors, and you're my Rita."

Fry blinks.

"I am?"

"It's a long story. You died. I died. The universe . . ."

"Did Bender die?"

"Bender was fine."

Fry considers this.

"Was there a groundhog involved? Was Nibbler the groundhog?"

"I'll explain everything," Leela promises. "But first . . ."

She tips his chin up and kisses him, slow and sure, drawing every second from it. Fry gasps for air when she pulls away, but he makes a low, desperate sound all the same and draws her back, fixing his mouth to hers as if he needs that more.

U LEAVE ME BREATHLESS, Leela thinks, dizzily. Fry had it right, that Valentine's Day.

She cups his face, one hand braced against his shoulder. His eyes are blue, and wide open, and still a little confused.

Leela feels she should clarify things for him.

"I love you," she says softly.

She peels off her tank top, her gaze still locked on his. Then she reaches back, unclasps her bra, lets it fall to the floor.

This is the point where she should feel vulnerable. Exposed. Hyper-aware of every flaw.

Instead Leela feels completely calm.

She leans in again, and breathes in his ear, "So love me too."

Day #42

They go to visit Leela's parents in the sewer.

"Let's do something nice for my parents," Leela tells him, and on this occasion it turns out Fry's idea of something nice is to paint every room in her parents' house.

Leela picks the color – sunburst orange – and smiles when they crack open the paint cans.

"It's perfect," she declares.

"It's beautiful," her mother says. "We've never had fresh paint."

Her father only raises his eyebrow.

"Who are you, and what did you do with my daughter?"

Paint drips down onto her shoe, and Leela feels her smile widen.

"Nothing, Dad," she says. "I'm happy, that's all."

It's not all. Not at all. It's happiness, and that's not something Leela ever thought she could have. Not in this universe, anyway. Maybe not even in her life before.

It's a small miracle to have found it here.

Leela thinks this as she watches Fry coat the opposite wall in haphazard brush strokes.

He's humming to himself, that Sonny and Cher song she used to think was so goofy. His hair is speckled with paint.

Leela wonders if she'll tell him today.

Some days she doesn't. Some days it's enough just to be near him. To be happy, like this.

Other days . . .

She bends back the neck of her paintbrush and spatters the back of his shirt in bright orange.

Fry yelps.

"Hey! You did on that purpose!"

"Yes." Leela smirks. "Yes, I did."

She steps forward and taps him on the chest with the head of her brush, so that a small sunburst blooms over his heart.

"I wanted to tell you something."

"'Kay." Fry watches her with that goofy half-smile, waiting for the joke.

Leela steps into his arms, and squeezes him tight.

"You make me happy," she says simply. "I don't tell you that enough. But you really do, Fry."

Fry hugs back, and Leela feels the paint stains squelch between them, sticking them together like glue. She doesn't care.

"You make me happy too," Fry tells her. He pauses. "I think we're stuck."

"Oh, probably." Leela smiles, and squeezes tighter. "I don't mind. There are worse things to be."

Day #493

They're lying in a sweaty heap on the floor of Leela's apartment. There is a cold breeze blowing in through the window Leela never seems to get around to fixing, and Bruce Willis is blowing things up on the TV behind her. The neighbors stopped banging on the walls an hour ago.

Fry props himself up on one arm. His other hand is following the curve of her bare hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breast.

"How many times have we done this?"

"This?" Leela gestures to the floor, to the apartment around them. "Or this?" She bites her lip, shifts position so he can map out the rest of her. Her eyelid flutters shut.

She hears Fry swallow.

His lips brush her throat, the pulse point under her collarbone, the plane of her stomach.

"This," he says. "You and me. Like this."

"Honestly?" Leela shrugs. "I lose count."

"And you always feel like this?"

"Mmm."

Leela shifts again, writhing under him. She drags her mind back to the present, forces herself to remember that for Fry, this is the first time. It's always the first time.

"Yes," she manages. "Yes." She laughs. "Always."

Fry sinks into her so suddenly she gasps.

"I wish I remembered," he murmurs.

Leela flicks her eye open, finds his face in the half-dark. She grips his hips, momentarily holding him in place.

"I remember."

It's true.

Every look. Every touch. Every smile. Leela remembers them all.

She brushes her thumb across Fry's lower lip, locking this memory away safe too.

"I remember," she whispers, and kisses him to seal the moment in her mind.

Day #736

Leela may never experience another summer's day in New New York, but the nice thing about spaceflight is that it's always summer somewhere.

There's always a planet of bright white beaches, if you look hard enough. So what if the sky is swirled lavender and bisected by planetary rings? It's still hot enough for sunbathing, and there is still an ocean stretching off into the blue distance, and Bender is always willing to cram the cooler in his compartment with ice-cream.

"Oh yeah," Fry says happily. "It doesn't get better than this, baby."

He's not talking to her. At least, not in any more than the general way. Fry has a habit of tacking "baby" or "dude" onto the end of his sentences, which could be a Stupid Ages quirk of his, or could be something he picked up from Bender, over the years. It doesn't usually bother her. Usually, Leela thinks it's symptomatic of his goofy enthusiasm about life. But today . . .

Today is one of the days she chose not to tell him. It takes too long, sometimes, to explain. It's too hard to watch him struggle with the weight of it. Sometimes Leela just wants things to be easy. Sometimes all she wants is a nice day, at the beach, with Amy and Bender and the rest of the crew, where everything feels like it did before.

Leela watches Fry, under her shades.

He looks happy. Relaxed.

Let it go, she tells herself.

And she does.

She watches him try to lick ice-cream off his elbow, and hides her smile. She joins the crew in a game of volleyball, and whups Fry's ass as usual, and when the game is over she resists the urge to walk into his arms and kiss the spot where the ball bounced off his forehead. "Loser," she says fondly instead, and Fry blushes pink at her smile, but that's all.

It's enough.

It is. It's enough.

They eat fried shrimp, and Bender sets off some illegal fireworks in the daytime, clearing the rest of the beach. Eventually he burns through his supply and joins Fry in his attempt to sculpt a scale model Planet Express ship out of sand.

Leela lets Amy paint her toes, and takes one of the quizzes in her magazine - Find Your Perfect Man - as she stares at the back of Fry's head.

"You should be with someone fun and spontaneous, who balances out your serious attitude," Amy reads. "A free spirit is a nice counterpoint to your goal-oriented mindset, and will help remind you of all the good things life has to offer. Consider a younger partner, to really recharge your energy in the bedroom." She laughs, blowing her on her still-drying fingertips to set the polish faster. "That's what Kiffy got."

"That doesn't surprise me," Leela says drily.

She has a sudden image of Kif and Amy lying in bed, lazing on a Sunday morning as they take turns giving each other this quiz. Or sharing breakfast. Eating pancakes in their pajamas, listening to morning radio, utterly at ease in the rhythm of their life.

She'll never have that. She'll never wake up beside Fry in the morning. They'll never argue over whose turn is to make breakfast, or make plans over coffee, or fall into a routine.

A lump forms in her throat.

"Excuse me," she murmurs.

She walks back to the ship, climbs down into the hold where no-one will bother her, and cries.

Day #983

It gets worse. It becomes a funk she can't break out of, this thing.

She parks the ship sloppily, today, and coffee from Fry's Universebucks frappucino shoots out and spatters him. Leela reaches over without thinking - without looking, almost - to swipe away a spot from behind his ear.

And he stares at her.

They all do. It's too intimate, this gesture. Leela is not supposed to be this comfortable with him. She's not supposed to know his body this well, to think of it almost as an extension of her own. The way lovers do. The way wives do.

She finds herself down in the hold again, having made some excuse. She's sobbing harder than she does at the end of ET.

"Are you crying?"

It's Bender. When she raises her head and he sees her red-rimmed eye, he backs away quickly.

"I'll get Fry."

"No!" Leela scrubs her eye with the heel of her hand. "Don't. I'll stop in a minute."

"If you say so." Bender regards her warily. "You didn't cry this much when I flushed the rat."

He edges closer.

"You know, if you crashed and burned in the romance department, I have a finely-honed criminal skill set I could maybe be persuaded to use for revenge."

He actually seems sincere, and a laugh bubbles up out of Leela almost against her will. At least Bender never changes. And she wouldn't want him to.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me, Bender."

On impulse, Leela holds out her hand for a drag of his cigar. After a beat of bewildered staring, Bender hands it over.

"Ugh." Leela coughs. "That's foul."

"It is?"

Leela shudders.

"Absolutely. Why do you smoke these things?"

Bender shrugs.

"They look cool," he says.

"Yes, but they taste foul."

"Humans do it," Bender says defensively. Then, a little less so, "It's not like I can taste it. I can't taste anything."

Leela nods, passing the cigar back. Something possesses her mouth.

"I want something I can't have," she admits. "Something I'll never have. I don't know how to accept that."

Bender considers this, grinding the cigar out on his palm.

"If the something is dingus up there, you already got him. If you want him. So I'm gonna go ahead and assume it's somethin' else."

Leela opens her mouth, shuts it again, and eventually settles for a shrug. What can she tell him? That he's half right? That it's complicated? She doesn't have the energy to explain.

Even if she did, she's not sure Bender would understand. Bender has always lived for the day. He's an instant gratification kind of robot. "More of the same, forever", is exactly what he wants from Fry. There is nowhere else he would ever want their friendship to go. Leela's need for Fry to build something with her, evolve with her . . . that's not something she thinks Bender could ever wrap his head around.

She's probably right - but Bender has gone unusually quiet. For the first time, Leela thinks he might actually be trying to understand how she feels.

"I don't believe in never," he says at last. "Never is for losers. If someone told me I could never do something, I'd do it anyway, just to stick it to 'em. I'd do it the hardest. I'd do it the best. I'd be the coolest. And anyone who didn't like it could eat my dirt."

He buffs his paintwork, affecting indifference.

"I don't care what you want. It's probably something lame and human, like true love or inner peace. You humans are all tragic. But" - he meets her eye - "never is a chump word, and I never took you for a chump."

Leela stares at him. Okay, so it was ego-centric. And the robot hasn't shown any interest in hearing more about Leela's feelings. But there's no denying it. In his own strange, self-centered way, Bender just tried to relate.

And she has no idea what to make of that.

"Bender . . . did you just give me advice?"

"What? No! Up yours!"

"Well, it was good advice."

"I said, up yours."

Leela fights a smile.

"Thank you, Bender."

Bender groans.

"Whatever."

Halfway to the door, the robot stops.

He lights up a new cigar, bigger and more noxious-smelling than the one before.

And he smiles.

"Go big or go home, baby," he tells her.

Day #999

Go big or go home, baby.

Bender's words have been brewing inside her, slowly formulating into a plan. It's a Bender kind of plan, all show and bluster, and ultimately it won't change anything. But for the first time, Leela can see the appeal in a big, futile gesture. For the first time, she feels as if she understands Fry's opera, his quest for the perfect candy heart, the thing he told her he did with the stars.

There's a kind of catharsis in trying, even when she knows it won't lead anywhere.

She applies the finishing touches to her lipstick in the ship's mirror and cranks up the radio, singing along.

"And when I'm sad, you're a clown, and if I get scared, you're always aroouunnnd . . ."

A smile breaks across her face, uncontrolled. This song, Leela decides, is a masterpiece of the ancient world.

She swerves the ship at the Robot Arms Apartments. Whoops. Almost overshot it. But she pulls around just in time, dips her speed, and . . .

The nose of the ship cuts through the window like a slice of cake dropped through a pane of sugar. The glass shatters softly, gracefully, around her.

Leela shakes it off her shoulders as she climbs out of the cockpit and vaults into the apartment.

"Morning, boys," she says breezily.

Bender's expression is frozen on the verge of apoplexy, as if he can't decide whether to yell at her or applaud her. Fry's toothbrush is hovering halfway to his mouth, forgotten. He looks faintly dazed, as if he thinks he might be dreaming, but the dream is so good he doesn't care.

"There's a door," Bender says at last. "Human-sized and everything. It's right over there."

Leela shrugs.

"I didn't feel like using it. I felt like making an entrance today." She twirls the ship keys between her thumb and her forefinger, and looks Bender dead in the eye. "Go big or go home, I say."

Fry laughs, and Leela smiles at him.

Sonny and Cher is still blaring out of the cockpit.

"I got you, I won't let go,

I got you to love me sooooooo . . ."

Leela smiles on, silently willing him to understand.

"Um." Fry gestures. "You have . . . in your . . . uh."

He reaches up, gently, and shakes glass out of her hair. Then he hesitates. When Leela still doesn't react he swallows and touches her cheek, softly, with the ball of his thumb.

She's bleeding. Whether the cut was caused by glass or hail, Leela can't tell.

Fry's own cheek is smooth and unblemished, today. For the first time, she must have got here before the hailstone caught him.

Leela decides to take that as a good omen.

Fry's hand is still cupping her cheek. If he was a braver man, he'd kiss her now. Do it, Leela thinks. Lean in. Kiss me. Do it, Fry.

But he won't, of course. He doesn't know she wants that.

She wonders what it would be like, for Fry to kiss her with confidence. To surprise her with it, take her breath away in a moment she's not expecting it. To kiss her awake in the morning, or kiss her when she's trying to focus on flying at the wheel of the ship, or kiss her in the middle of a sentence because he already knows how it ends. She wants that. She wants that so badly it aches.

Leela reaches up, carefully, and settles her hand on top of Fry's, holding him in place. A bubble of quiet has fallen over them, one of those delicate, oddly intense moments their friendship always seemed to teeter on the edge of.

Fry's other hand has found its way to her hair. He winds a curl around his fingers and lets it spring loose again, transfixed. His gaze has turned hazy and dreamlike, and when he leans in, there is a moment, a heartbeat, where Leela thinks he might really -

Bender punches him in the arm and Fry jumps away from her as if scalded.

"Uh. Yeah." He clears his throat and gestures feebly at her cheek. "There."

Leela blinks. Shakes herself.

"Thanks," she says. "Thank you, Fry."

Bender ruins the moment again with a loud, impatient sound.

"I don't know what's happening here," he says, "but I demand an explanation."

Leela winces. Go big or go home, she reminds herself. Don't be such a baby. Even if Fry says no, what does it matter? He won't remember. You can pretend it never happened.

When she thinks of it like that, it's easier to push her shoulders back and smile.

"Bender!" she says brightly. "You're right. I should be paying more attention to you. After all, I came to ask you something important."

She ducks back into the ship and tugs out his tuxedo, presenting it to him with a flourish.

"Bender. You may be an evil, kleptomaniac drunk" - her smile widens - "but you're one of my dearest friends, and it would mean a lot to me if you agreed to be best man at my wedding."

Bender stares at her. Then he shakes himself, puffing himself up again with his old bluster.

"I always knew deep down you thought I was the greatest," he declares.

"That's not exactly what I -"

"You said it! No take backs! I'm your number one choice!"

The robot is already shrugging into his tux, looking so pleased Leela can't help but smile.

"There's no-one else I'd want," she says sincerely. "And I know the groom will feel the same way."

"Um." Fry has found his voice at last. He looks quietly devastated. "You're – you're getting married?"

"Well." Leela swallows. "I hope so."

She takes a deep breath, and reaches out for his hands. How do they do this, in all those old movies Fry likes? Oh, right . . .

She sinks to one knee, and smiles shyly up at him.

"If you'll have me."

Bender - who has been pulling on his tuxedo pants - overbalances and falls over in shock.

Fry stares down at her, mouth agape.

Leela's heart is thudding in her chest. Maybe he doesn't understand what she's asking him.

She wets her lips – her mouth has gone dry - and tries again.

"Will you marry me? Today?"

Fry says nothing. He just stands there, staring at her. He seems frozen. The only glimmer of hope is how tightly he's holding her hands. He doesn't seem aware of it.

It gives Leela the strength to keep smiling up at him, even as the silence balloons around them and she feels her face burn.

Thankfully Bender can be relied upon to break the tension.

"Is this a scam?" he demands. "Ooh, an insurance scam! Those are my favorite. Or - ooh, ooh! - you're doing reality TV!"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then what gives?"

"Yeah." Fry has finally unfrozen. He summons his voice at last. "Yeah," he says weakly. "Ha. Ha. What gives? Do you need a, a space green card, or . . . something? Because as your friend, I'll be a part of any scam you want. Just ask Bender. There's nothing I won't do for a friend. I'm the best friend ever. Anything you want, I'm there! Ha, I mean, anything you need. Because you don't want to marry me, obviously, but if you need to I'm there, I am all yours baby –" He chokes. "I mean, not baby! Buddy! Bestie! Buster!"

Leela sighs.

"Fry," she says gently. "You're hyperventilating."

"Ha! Good one, Leels! Hahaha -"

Leela sighs again.

"Alright, I'm getting up." She stands, brushing off her knees, and lays a palm on Fry's chest to steady him. "Breathe, Fry."

He blinks, gulping like a stranded fish. Leela waits patiently for him to calm down.

"No scams," she says, when he seems to have recovered a little. "No insurance. No immigration. No fraud of any kind. No . . . mind-altering substances. Or hidden camera stunts. No wagers with Bender. And no hypnotists." She strokes her thumb absently over his heart, and tries another smile. "I really want to marry you, Fry. For real."

Fry's hand is shaking. He reaches for her, drops his arms, half-reaches out again. His mouth opens and closes, soundless.

His voice, when it does emerge, comes out as a croak.

"Why?"

Because we've been trapped in this loop for years now, Leela thinks. And if I can't pretend I have a future with you, just for one day, I think I might really go insane.

"Because I love you," she hears herself say instead.

"Bu - but -" Fry shakes his head hopelessly.

Leela watches him. This is new. Fry has never doubted her before. He has never struggled to accept what she was telling him like this.

Leela frowns.

Every other time she confessed her love to Fry, it followed the story of the time loop, or the story of her coma dreams, and Fry seemed to accept it more readily. It seemed to make perfect sense to him, that Leela would fall in love with him after watching him die.

Because she watched him die.

Oh, no.

The truth of what she's been doing hits her like a slap to the face.

All this time. Every time Leela thought she was telling him the truth about her feelings, Fry thought she was telling him something else. A story where she only fell in love with him after his tragic death, or because of her own almost-death.

It has never occurred to him that Leela might have loved him all along.

She hears herself laugh. All this time, and she still found a way to waste it. All this time, and she's still a fool.

"I love you," she says again.

She coughs.

"Bender, can you give us a minute alone please?"

Bender rolls his optics.

"No way," he snorts. "I'm live-streaming this whole crazy bit. Say cheese, baby!"

Leela sighs.

"Excuse us."

She takes Fry by the arm and steers him into the cockpit of the ship, slamming the door in Bender's sulking face.

Fry relaxes a fraction when he realizes they're alone. He blinks up at Leela, still looking faintly bemused.

"Since when do you love me?"

"Honestly?" Leela sinks into the seat beside him, watching his face. "I'm not sure," she says at last. "But probably longer than I'd care to admit."

"Yesterday?"

Leela laughs.

"Longer than that."

She brushes her fingers across his cheek, watches his throat bob as he swallows.

"When I woke up from my coma," she says, "you were there. You looked terrible." She smiles. "And it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. You. Alive. Smiling at me." She squeezes his hand. "You smile at me every day. Did you know that? I'm not sure you do. Sometimes I think you don't even notice. But I do."

Her gaze drops to her feet.

"Do you know how many people smile at me in a day, Fry?"

"Uh. A thousand? Ten thousand? Fifty two?"

"No." Leela shrugs, trying to keep her tone offhand. "Three, maybe. My parents, if I go visit them. And you. Always you. Lord knows why."

"Because you make me happy," Fry blurts out. "Because." He stops. The tips of his ears are turning red. "Because. Sometimes you look at me like you're looking at me now. All, uh . . ."

"Soft?" Leela guesses. She sighs. "You have that effect on me. Normally I suppress the hell out of it, because it scares me so much. But I'm tired of living like that. I won't do it anymore."

She reaches for his hand.

"I can go on, if you want." She laughs softly. "I have more."

"You do?"

"Sure."

Leela settles back in her seat, considering. Fry's hand feels comfortable in hers.

"Let's see," she says. "You smile at me. Already established. But you make me laugh too. It's not always intentional, because let's face it, you can be an idiot. But you're my idiot. And honestly, it makes life a lot more fun."

The corner of Fry's mouth quirks up in a smile. Leela pinches the dimple it creates in his cheek, enjoying it.

"And even when we fight," she tells him, "I don't know, I get a kick out of it. You get under my skin. I get on your back. And I . . . don't hate it."

Fry is smirking now.

"You mean you think it's hot."

Leela rolls her eye.

"Fine. Yes. You get under my skin because a part of me not-so-secretly wants you . . . well. Under my skin."

"And on my back."

"That too."

Leela flashes him a wicked smile and enjoys the moment when Fry's brain catches up to his mouth and he processes what she's just said. He makes a noise in his throat that sounds like "Errk."

Leela holds up a hand to stop him before he can derail her train of thought any further.

"But it's not all about that. As enjoyable as our sexually-charged petty bickering can be – and yes, it's very enjoyable - the truth is . . ." She hesitates. "I can be stubborn. And opinionated. I don't always take other people's feelings into account, and a lot of the time, I'm so sure I'm right I don't even stop to consider the alternative. It makes me a good captain but a terrible friend, sometimes."

"You're not a good captain," Fry interrupts. "You're a great captain. And a great friend. And -"

Leela smiles.

"What I'm trying to say," she continues, "is that I can be myself with you. As off-putting as that self would be to anyone else. I feel safe arguing with you because -"

"It doesn't matter."

"Right."

"We always work it out."

"Right. Because we care about each other. Which brings me to my other point: you worry about me. Most of the time it's completely misguided. We both know I can handle myself in a combat situation. And you have got to stop throwing yourself in front of things to save me. It's almost always ineffective and honestly, it's just a world of trouble." She squeezes his hand. "But it is very sweet. And I like that you care so much. I like that you think of the little things I forget about. Soup when I'm sick and pizza for my parents and . . . nightmares I avoid talking about."

Fry opens his mouth again, and Leela cuts him off.

"Later," she promises. "I'll tell you everything. But it's a long story and right now it's not important. What's important is that I love you, Fry. And I've wasted too much time already. I want to marry you. It would mean the world to me if you said yes."

"Leela . . ." Fry's voice is thick. He is trying, and failing, to blink back tears. "I've loved you since the day I first came to the future. If you want me then there's no universe where I'm ever saying no."

"Oh, good," Leela murmurs. "That's a relief. Because my wedding dress is in the ship and I had no back-up plan in the event you brutally rejected m-"

Fry kisses her, faster than she ever thought he could move. He's smoother too, the moment almost seamless as he captures her mouth with his, easing into her bottom lip -

This, Leela decides, was worth waiting for. Every minute.

"Hey! Meatbags!" Bender breaks the moment by hammering on the glass. "You can't suck face before the wedding!"

It's a nice wedding, in the end. A little rushed, sure, and there is an uncomfortable interlude where Leela has to convince Amy she has not, in fact, lost her mind. But it passes and Amy agrees to be her maid of honor, just as she'd hoped. Her parents can't be there, of course, but Bender promises to live-stream the ceremony and they both cry on the uplink and tell her it's about time she got her act together. Then her father swears to set El Chupanibre on Fry if he ever hurts her. It's very sweet.

The only venue they can get on such short notice is the Vampire State Building. It's not ideal, what with the rooftop and the hail and everything, but Leela hardly cares.

It's her wedding. It doesn't matter if she and Fry have to yell their vows at each other over the howling wind. Nothing will ruin the romance of this moment.

"I LOVE YOU!" she tells Fry, as they huddle together under a makeshift awning. The fairy lights flicker on and off as the storm picks up in intensity. "I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO ADMIT IT!"

"WHAT?"

"I SAID, I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG!"

"WHAT?"

Leela grips Fry's face, her mouth an inch from his.

"I! LOVE! YOU!"

Fry laughs.

"I LOVE YOU TOO! LET'S KISS ALREADY!"

The reception is nice. Planet Express isn't the venue Leela dreamed of for her afterparty, but no-one throws a party better than Bender, and it turns out Fry has curated an entire wedding playlist. Because of course he has.

It's a little archaic, like everything he listens to, but it has a certain charm.

"You Are The Sunshine Of My Life?" Leela teases, as Fry twirls her on the dancefloor. "Really? You don't think that's just a little corny?"

"No," Fry says stubbornly. "It's Stevie Wonder! My mom always said he was the most romantic singer who ever lived. Him and Jon Bon Jovi."

"Bon Jovi?"

"Oh baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet." He reels her in, grinning. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I will love you alwaaaaaaaayssssss . . ."

"Oh lord."

"Hair metal is the most romantic genre of music."

"Is that so?"

"You bet. It's also the genre with the best hair. After disco, obviously."

Leela smiles.

"Obviously." She rests her cheek against his and shuts her eye, swaying in time to the music. "Fry?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Let's get out of here."

In the past, when Leela dreamed about her wedding night, she envisaged a nice hotel, four stars ideally, three at a minimum, and a bed with rose petals strewn on it in the shape of a heart. She used to imagine champagne on ice, and room service oysters, and fancy white robes she might accidentally-on-purpose take home as a souvenir the next morning.

Her imaginings were never set in her own apartment. In them, her carpet wasn't soggy and she never had to stop and tape up newspaper over her own broken window. Her wedding dress wasn't soaked through. The slideshow of her imagination never featured the groom accidentally stepping in broken glass, or the two of them chasing down an overexcited Nibbler and barricading him in the kitchen for the night.

Then again, her imagination never showed her Fry sitting on her bed, tugging off his bow tie, either. It never conjured up his easy smile, or the way he turned pink when she stepped in to work the knot free for him. And it utterly, utterly failed to capture the look on Fry's face when she stepped out of her wedding dress and let it pool at her feet.

"It's almost midnight," Fry whispers.

Leela sighs and burrows down under the blankets. She can feel the thud of Fry's heartbeat against her forehead.

Fry is breathing in the smell of her hair.

"What are you thinking?" he says softly.

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Leela?"

"Mmm?"

"What if we don't fall asleep? What if we stay awake all night? Then we'd have to break the loop. Then I'd have to remember."

Leela groans.

"Fry. Let it go."

"But -"

"I told you. Even if we could break the loop, you wouldn't remember anything. You'd be dead, and I'd be miserable. I don't want that for either of us. Please, just let it go."

Fry is silent. Then he pushes her back so he can look in her eye.

"Like you let it go?"

"Fry -"

"I know, I know. You explained. I got it. But there's another you still out there somewhere, all alone. I hate that. And I hate thinking about me forgetting you, every day in this reality. I want you to be happy. And you're not. That's not right."

Leela sighs. It's getting late. She really doesn't want to end today on an argument.

"I'm happy sometimes," she points out. "I'm happy now. Can't that be enough?"

"No!" Fry's hand flies up, a wild gesture. He tugs at his hair. "No! That's not enough! You deserve better than that, Leela. You deserve to be happy all the time. You should be so happy it makes you sick. You should be Double-Soup Tuesday at the orphanarium happy, every day, and -"

"You're being ridiculous."

Leela stares at his face. Angry. Desperate. Upset. For her. She feels herself soften.

"I love you," she tells him, because she can. She knots her fingers through his and pulls his hands up over her head, so that Fry sinks down to kiss her again, pulled in by gravity.

He can't seem to stop himself. Leela understands the feeling. In moments like these she feels as if the bubble of their personal universe has shrunk so small it contains nothing but them.

She winds her ankle around his and tugs him down on top of her, a grounding weight. Fry hums in the back of his throat.

"You're right," he says. "I'm being selfish. This could be the only wedding day we ever get. I should be spending it making you happy."

"Oh?" Leela raises her eyebrow. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

Fry nudges her thighs apart. He grins.

"I have a few ideas."

Fry, Leela has learned, has hidden talents.

She wonders idly what the Robot Devil would have given Fry for his tongue, all that time ago. An opera hardly seems like a fair trade.

"What?" Fry says sleepily. "What's funny?"

Leela rolls over, snuggling into him.

"I think I need to reexamine my priorities. Can you believe we don't do this all day, every day? I must be out of my mind."

She yawns, frowning at the sight of Fry trying to keep his eyes open.

"Fry," she says. A gentle warning.

"What?"

"Go to sleep, Fry."

Fry swallows.

"I know. I will." He sweeps her hair out of her eye, captivated. "Soon," he murmurs. "Soon. I swear."

Leela lets her eye drift shut.

"I love you, Leela," Fry whispers.

"I love you too," she mumbles back.

And falls into sleep.

Day 1000

8 am.

Leela slams her hand down on the alarm, and rolls over onto her back.

She's alone, of course. She's always alone. What else did she expect?

She stares at her bare hand, turning it back and forth in the light as she tries to remember the feeling of the ring on her finger.

Nibbler hops up on the bed beside her, chittering for food. Leela scratches him absently under the chin.

"I'm married," she tells him. "I married Fry. Isn't that funny?"

Nibbler's only response to squeak and fall off the bed. Not that she'd really expected anything else. Nibbler is sweet, but his thought process don't tend to extend any further than his next meal. Leela doesn't even think her furbaby can understand her, half the time.

Still, she loves him anyway, so she gives him an extra ham for breakfast. Then she dumps the hailstone in her shower drain and slips on her wrist device, setting up Stevie Wonder to play while she brushes her teeth.

It's nice.

She plans her day as she gets dressed. She'll marry Fry again, she decides. Not at the Vampire State Building. Down in the sewers, this time. They can have a traditional mutant wedding, and her parents can attend. They'll like that, once they realize she's serious about it. Her mom might have a family heirloom from her own wedding Leela could borrow. And her dad could give her away. She could even let Bender cater the reception, if she gave the mutants enough warning. He'd like that.

She opens the door, smiling at the thought of it . . .

And walks smack into Fry.

"Uh," he says as he catches her.

"Fry?"

"Uh. Hi."

Leela stares at him. This isn't possible. Fry can't be here.

It's still Wednesday, and Wednesday never changes. 8 am. The hailstone. The cut on Fry's -

The cut isn't there.

Fry looks like he dressed in a hurry. His hair is sleep-rumpled and his shoes don't match. His cell phone is flipped half-open in one hand and Leela can hear a tinny voice emanating from it, repeating the same words in a loop.

The time is 8:23 am on Wednesday 23rd November.

The time is 8:23 am on Wednesday -

Fry notices her staring and flips it shut.

"Fry . . ." Leela swallows. Her heartbeat feels unnaturally loud in her ears. "What are you doing here?"

"Well." Fry rubs the back of his neck. "Funny story. See . . ." He stops. "If I was going crazy, you'd tell me, right?

"Yes. Of course."

"See . . . I had this dream. But I don't think it was a dream."

Leela swallows hard.

"Oh?"

She can't take her eye off Fry's face.

Fry shifts uncomfortably.

"Yeah," he says. "And I thought - I thought if I asked you, you'd tell me the truth."

Leela takes a deep breath.

"Then ask me."

"Okay. What day is today?"

"Wednesday."

Fry nods.

"But -" He stops again.

Leela smiles. She touches his cheek, brushing her thumb over the unbroken skin.

"Ask me," she says softly. "Ask me, Fry."

Fry steels himself.

"How many times has it been Wednesday?"

Leela laughs. She's crying, she realizes. Laughing and crying at the same time. It seems only fitting.

"I'm not sure," she tells him. "A thousand? A thousand and one? I lost count."

She pulls him in close, so that she can feel his heart beat against her own. Fry's gaze is clear and blue and she thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, because he remembers.

They're still in the time loop, but Fry remembers.

He's smiling at her, like her own personal sunrise, and Leela thinks her heart might burst with joy.

Fry takes her hand, and kisses the empty space where the ring should be.

He grins at her.

"Wanna go around again?"