Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O'Brien.

This story is rated T. (If it should be an M, I'll change it.)

Oof; how can I explain promising to not let the pauses between chapters go too long and then letting them go too long? The short version is I am job hunting for a full-time job for an MLIS degree, and to kill time (and make money), I have two part-time jobs. However, because I'm working so much, that takes away from my concentration on this fic. Sometimes, I get hit by motivation and can crank out a good-sized chunk, but it depends on a lot of circumstances.

Also, I want to apologize to everyone who's commented so far. I'm not the best with, well, any kind of interaction, but I truly do appreciate your comments and thank you so much for reading, and I hope you all like what's coming next! ?

After the last chapter, I made a decision. Trying to keep myself to a word limit just isn't going to work; once I get an idea, the floodgates open up. I may just have to accept that this is going to be a doorstopper. I apologize for the infodump.

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11. Deep in Thought

The doctor, another Transylvanian living in Denton, had come and gone. Her toe wasn't broken, thankfully, but badly sprained enough to keep her off her feet. She was under strict orders: keep walking to a minimum, ice and ibuprofen for swelling and inflammation, and no dancing under any circumstances.

Well, her next three to six weeks were shot. At least she wasn't confined to her room. She quickly figured out how to angle her foot to walk without putting pressure on her toe (although she couldn't do that for long, since it put her ankle at risk), not to mention there was always a Phantom or two nearby to support her (which really helped on the stairs, although now she was questioning why the castle didn't have an elevator).

Getting around wasn't a problem. No, the problem was keeping herself occupied.

Seated at the kitchen counter with her choice of nail polish – Mai Tai Sunset, a color she'd been meaning to try on – she started on her pinky. Doing her nails was the opposite of dancing, but it required the utmost concentration. No way would she let her mind wander…

She turned on her stool and looked around the dark, smoky room. It wasn't the dingiest bar she'd ever been in, but it wasn't so fancy that she felt out of place in her fishnets and denim jacket.

"Jack, straight," came from Eddie on the stool next to her. She turned back as the bartender looked at her. "What're you having?"

A noise down the bar caught her attention. She glanced to her left to see a woman, laughing and holding a glass full of some pink-orange drink. "What's that?" She asked, pointing.

The bartender looked where she pointed. "Mai Tai. It's basically rum and fruit juice."

Hmm, that sounded interesting. She wasn't a big fan of rum, but tonight was all about trying new things. "I'll have one of those."

With a nod and a "Coming up!", the bartender turned to the bottles lining the wall. The opening guitar of "Jumpin' Jack Flash" sounded from the jukebox by the door and she started drumming her hands on the bar. She'd tapped to this song before, knowing there was a good routine in there somewhere. She just needed to work out what it was.

It took her a minute to realize Eddie was watching the whole thing. Her hands slowed to a stop as her cheeks warmed up.

"Can you really tap dance to the Rolling Stones?"

It was at that point the bartender set their drinks down. She immediately reached for hers, taking in a mouthful of what tasted like orange juice, fruit punch, rum, and ice. Not the best drink she'd ever had, but it gave her enough courage to look Eddie in the eye and say "Yes, and if that doesn't fit your idea of tap dancing, then–"

"That is so cool!"

A flush of pride ran through her. She'd heard her dancing described in plenty of ways before – Frank even called it a "good warmup for the crowds" – but Eddie's enthusiasm rang differently. Either she was crazy, or he really meant it. "Really?" She asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah!" Eddie nodded, with that grin she found absolutely wonderful. "When I think tap dancing, I think sparkly outfits and big bands and giant staircases. How many other people can you think of tapping to good music?"

That made her laugh. She was still snickering as she took another drink. "Well, I don't want to brag, but…" and she set off listing all the songs she had tapped to or was planning to.

By the time she stopped for a drink, Eddie was staring at her with an expression of pure awe. "That's amazing." He said. "You could go to Hollywood with that."

She just smiled and shook her head. "I tried to, but I wound up with Frank instead."

Eddie nodded as he downed the last of his Jack Daniels. "What's up with that guy, anyway?"

The conversation quickly turned to her trying to answer Eddie's questions without giving too much away (if what Frank said about his uncle working for the government was true). Pretty soon, they signaled the bartender for another round, and another, talking and laughing all the while.

She wasn't sure when they decided to leave – probably after the fourth drink; Eddie suggested finding somewhere to eat – but as soon as they were out the door, they were in each other's arms. She slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting the traces of whiskey. It may have been January, but she wasn't even shivering.

Eddie slipped his arm around her shoulder as they walked down the street. As the lights of the Miss Denton Diner came into view, a lightbulb also went off in her head. "Maybe, when we get back to the house, I can put on a record and show you what I do."

It became official; his smile was the best thing she'd ever seen. "Sounds great."

"I believe the expression is 'Earth to Columbia.'"

She shook her head to see Magenta staring at her across the counter. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out a little. What's up?"

Magenta responded by raising an eyebrow "Well, you have about ten layers of polish on your finger."

Looking down, she saw that she had indeed ignored the rest of her fingers. "Oh shit!" She hadn't been paying attention. How could she have slipped so easily?

Well, it was obvious that her nails weren't going to keep her mind occupied. (Besides, Mai Tai Sunset was the wrong color for January anyway.)

Even after making her way upstairs and taking the polish off, she could still feel the barstool underneath her, the smell of smoke and booze, the blaring music from the jukebox…

Speaking of jukeboxes, the one in the ballroom needed attention. It had been a few months since she'd gone through the records, checking which ones weren't getting much play and could be switched out.

As if reading her mind, a Phantom was at the top of the stairs to help her down again. She was grateful for that; it meant she didn't have to worry about both keeping her thoughts at bay and concentrating on getting down the stairs.

Reaching the ground floor, she hobbled to the ballroom (despite the Phantom's insistence on helping her) and lifted the lid of the jukebox. The only sound in the room was the gentle clicks of the carousel as she pressed the switch. Most of the records she recognized and put back in their slot, but a couple that she never remembered hearing came out.

On the floor next to the jukebox was a small crate full of 45s. After settling into a comfortable position on the floor, she started rifling through, putting all her effort into finding something good to replace the old records…

She giggled, the album tucked under her arm. Whoever sold their near-mint copy of Buddy Holly's That'll Be the Day to the Odds and Ends store deserved a medal. Eddie was going to be over the moon with this. Buddy Holly was his favorite singer, and he'd always said that he'd give anything to get his hands on this album.

She still couldn't believe Frank agreed to give Eddie his own room in the castle. If his delivery jobs took too long, he didn't have to take his chances on the road, especially late at night.

Tapping on the door with her nail, she could hardly contain herself. She was so caught up in the excitement that it took her a second to notice the door slowly swinging open.

The sight of Frank in Eddie's lap, his arms wrapped around the biker and tongue down his throat, greeted her. Her giddiness soured and her breath stopped in her lungs. The only sound she could make was a tiny, horrified squeak. It may not have been that loud, but it was enough for Frank to turn his head in one fluid motion.

His eyes were sparkling the way they always did when he was turned on. "Hello, darling. Care to join us?"

Her stomach started to rise as she spun and darted away from the sight, the record slipping from under her arm. Finding herself at the top of the stairs, she clung to the railing, trying to breathe.

Her heart pounding in her ears, she thought she could hear Eddie calling after her, or was that Frank's heels on the floor?

"Come now, don't be like that."

Yup, definitely Frank. His voice poured into her ears like warm honey as an arm snaked its way around her shoulders.

"You know he means nothing to what we have. Think of it as a 'mental' relationship."

She shoved the arm off, fighting a shiver creeping up her back. "Frank, what are you doing?!"

His lips, a sunrise red, briefly pouted at her tone before changing into that ever-present smirk. "Well, I've opened my home to him. I'm only sharing what I have. You wouldn't want me to be a selfish host now, would you?"

If she could, she would have slapped him until that smirk was off his lips. Instead, she just let the sobs escape as she ran for her room.

It wasn't until she nearly cried herself to sleep that she realized the album was still on the ground outside Eddie's door.

She took a shuddering breath and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. This was pointless; did everything have to remind her of Eddie?

Now she was afraid to try anything else to keep busy.

Maybe she just needed to be alone for a while. Carefully pushing herself up off the floor, she headed for the stairs. No Phantoms were around this time, but that didn't necessarily matter, since going up was a lot easier; all she had to do was walk sideways, hands firmly on the railing and using her good foot first.

She was in her room before she knew it. A little out of breath and a little too warm from the climb, she opened her window that looked out onto the surrounding forest. All she needed was a few seconds of the January wind to cool right off, but as she slid the window shut, she could already see what the breeze brought to mind...

The cold early-November air bit at her cheeks as she clung to Eddie's back. The motorcycle roared in her ears. She felt powerful; with a man like Eddie so close to her and the bike taking them wherever they wanted to go, she could handle anything.

But she wouldn't have to for much longer. They'd talked about it, and soon it would happen. They'd be leaving Denton, and Frank, for good. Eddie had a stash of cash he said was for "something special" and she had plenty of crap to hock at the Odds and Ends store. They already had a first stop picked out: Cleveland, the birthplace of rock and roll.

What would they do when they got there? Eddie mentioned he had friends at WMMS, the legendary rock station. Every time she thought about it, her eyes lit up at all the bands she could meet.

Once Eddie parked the motorcycle by the castle door, they hustled into the warmth of the main hall. A couple of Phantoms, apparently on standby, appeared to take their coats before disappearing again. This was fine with her since she and Eddie couldn't keep their hands off each other.

"So," he whispered, his voice husky, "where do you want to go next?"

In response, she slipped away to the bottom of the stairs. "You'll have to catch me to find out!" She tittered before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. Eddie's footsteps were behind her in no time, and she laughed out loud as she picked up speed, not even noticing the black and green figure until she nearly bowled him over.

Despite this, Frank picked himself up and smoothed his surgical gown like nothing had happened. "Having a good night?"

He grinned as Eddie caught up. "Not that I want to interrupt your date, lovies," Frank purred, "but when you get a moment, Eddie, can you come up to the lab? I want to talk to you about your next assignment."

Even now, Eddie still wasn't used to Frank's alien schedule. "Tonight?"

Frank shrugged. "Why not? I do a lot of night work sometimes, and I can promise you that what I have in mind is something truly special." With that, he sauntered away, leaving the couple in his wake.

Maybe it was what Frank said (he seriously quoted Myra Breckinridge, of all movies?), maybe it was the way he said it, but her confusion slowly turned to something else as she and Eddie found her room. She couldn't explain the terrible feeling as he kissed her hands and she just slid down onto her bed. The area next to her dipped as he sat next to her. "What is it?"

The concern in his voice brought her back to the present and she turned to him. "Eddie, I don't like this."

"What do you mean?"

Her throat went dry, but her mind started to race. "I can't explain it, but...What if we left tonight?"

His face was halfway between confusion and interest. "Really?"

"Yeah." A plan was already forming. "We wouldn't have to go too far, just outside of town and stop at a motel. Then we can head for Cleveland in the morning. We've got enough cash to make it."

The fact that he just smiled and put his arm around her should have been a warning. "Believe me, I want us to get out of here more than anything, but if we can get as much cash as we can out of this guy, it'll all be worth it. It's just one last job. I promise."

Even now, the words still circled inside her head.

"It's just one last job. I promise."

"I promise."

"...promise."

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Frank said something about running some errands today and being back later. Honestly, he'd barely paid attention. As soon as his creator had left, he made for the gym, the one place in this house he knew no one would bother him. He had too much to sort through.

She had asked him for help and put her arm around him.

She had smiled at him, and thanked him, completely serious.

This was good; this was very good. Now, how to keep that going? It's not like he could just talk to Eddie about it, right?

Or could he? After all, Eddie talked to him (when he wanted to). Why couldn't he talk back?

The longer he spent thinking about it, the more time he wasted until Frank came back.

His heart almost stopped as he heard footsteps outside. Frank couldn't be back already, could he? What if it was one of the servants? He knew they really didn't care less about him, but what if Frank had told them to watch him?

Well, there was only one thing to do. If he could see who it was, he could get back to his goal as quickly as possible. Bracing himself with a deep breath, he pulled the gym door open and stuck his head into the hall.

All he saw was a Phantom, the one who always wore the purple coat.

After looking left, right, and every other possible direction someone could come from, he looked back at the pale figure. "Are you the only one here?" He got an eager nod in response.

"Are you sure no one else is with you?" The Phantom quickly went from nodding to shaking his head as he pointed in all directions.

All right; if that didn't tell him they were alone, he didn't know what would. Despite a lingering dread of Frank's inevitable return, he also felt comfortable having someone he could trust (hopefully). "Listen, can you do me a favor?"

The pale figure's face lit up and he took a few seconds to bounce on his toes before straightening up. He smiled at the sight, even as a little knot formed in his stomach.

Now, how to best describe his plan. "I'm going to try something today. A…new exercise." That was one way of putting it. "I'm going to be talking to myself a lot and saying weird things, but that's all part of it."

That didn't sound like much of a description to him, but the Phantom looked awed at being trusted with such information. Right now, that was more than enough reassurance. "No matter what you hear, don't tell anybody what I'm doing, okay? It's kind of personal."

The Phantom's response was to nod eagerly and zip his lips shut. (He didn't know what made the Phantoms so blindly loyal, but he was thankful for it today.)

Closing the door, he faced the wall-length mirror. He very well couldn't see Eddie, but he figured looking at some face – even his own – was better than just talking to the air.

"All right, Eddie. I don't know how you've been able to do…" What, exactly? Take control of his body? Show him memories he knew were not his? "I know you want to help me with Columbia, but I don't want to hurt her again, and I know you don't know either."

You think I'm making you do that?

There he is. "No. I know you're not making me, but that's just it. Whenever you took over to sing along to that song, I had no idea that meant anything to her. And seeing your memory of buying that gift for her. How did that even happen?"

No response. He knew it was just him in the room, but he still felt alone. "I just want to know where we stand. If we're going to share this body, we have to figure something out first."

No response again. He didn't know how long the silence ran.

You're right. But we can't talk here. Let's go somewhere a little more private.

The whole room shifted. The red and white walls melted into something darker and his legs bent to a sitting position.

Before he realized what was happening, everything had changed. Where he had once been standing before a mirror in the gym, he now found himself sitting at a bar, looking at another mirror cut off by many bottles and little decorations. However, the mirror showed him that he was not alone. A few stools down sat a very familiar face.

"Eddie?"

The face – not just a face; it was attached to a whole body – grinned. "In person, sort of."

He heard something slide to a stop in front of him. It was a full glass, and he didn't need to take a drink to know it contained whiskey.

"Yeah. It's a shame you can't have Jack. I think you'd like it."

The voice came from his right, and he slowly turned his head. Seeing the face in the mirror was one thing. But this was Eddie.

Something was different. The Eddie he briefly knew had a gaping hole in his head and blood down the side of his face. This Eddie looked…complete, and not at all ugly.

He looked exactly how Columbia must have known him.

His eyes wandered and some decorations started looking a little familiar; was that his floor show umbrella, and one of the big feather fans? More things started jumping out; he recognized some of his weights, Frank's beloved Charles Atlas poster, and on top of one of the many bottles was the Christmas tree star.

"What is this place?" He asked.

Eddie shrugged. "Think of it as the spot where our separate brains meet."

"Separate brains?"

"Yeah." At his confused look, Eddie's expression changed to realization. "Oh, that's right. He hasn't told you yet."

"Told me what?"

Eddie motioned all around them. "The reason we're able to do this is because you have half my brain in your head."

He would be the first to admit how much he didn't know, but that was a little much. "What?!"

Eddie responded by slowly shaking his head. "I couldn't really tell you about it. Frank probably can, but I don't think he'd want to. I kind of just figured it out myself on our first night together." He grinned to himself at his little joke before taking a swig of his drink. "Anyway, you said you wanted to talk, so here we are."

Something else was still making his head spin. "Am I actually here or did something happen to the gym?"

This made Eddie pause putting his glass to his lips. "That's a good question." He admitted before shrugging again. "Don't worry. If anyone looks in, they'll just see you staring in the mirror."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Come on, that's not the weirdest thing that goes on around here." (Well, he wasn't wrong.) "I know you've got a lot of questions, and I'm trying to answer them."

"I know that." He reached down to pick up his own glass - maybe taking a drink of this wouldn't make him sick - but he almost dropped it when he saw the liquid had changed from dark brown to something blue-green. "What happened?"

Eddie raised his eyebrows. "I think that's the stuff you were grown out of and it's just another way of getting yourself into this whole headspace. Otherwise, it would just be full of stuff from my head." He drained his glass and slammed it on the bar. "At least, I think so."

That did it. He slammed his glass on the bar as well, the chemical sloshing all over. "We need to change the subject. Let's talk about something you actually know."

If that insulted Eddie, he didn't show it. The delivery boy just nodded and turned to face him. "You're right." He said. "We're just going in circles. What do you want to talk about?"

"Columbia." The name hung between them, but he had to keep going. "Tell me about her. What she likes, what she hates, what I can do to try to be friends with her."

As soon as he said it, a small weight lifted from his shoulders. Here was someone he could finally talk to without watching what he said, even if this person did only exist in his head.

"No problem," Eddie started smiling again, "What do you want to know first?"

He might as well just plunge right in. "Everything! Right now, all I know is she loves tap dancing, she hates me, and she nearly loved you." He cringed. Of all the things to say… "Oh, yeah." Eddie was still smiling, but now it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, let me tell you a couple things."

From there, Eddie launched into rattling off everything Columbia liked. He listened intently, even if half the things went over his head (some things, he couldn't tell if they were band names or TV shows). What he picked up was that she loved musicals, especially ones with lots of dancing. Her favorite dancer was named Eleanor Powell, closely followed by Ann Miller, and her favorite routine involved Eleanor Powell with a dog. If there was one thing she liked as much as watching tap dancing, it was coming up with her own routines. On their first date, she'd tapped her hands along to a Rolling Stones song, making up her own routine right then and there.

In addition to singing and dancing, she also loved to laugh. Sometimes, the littlest thing could send her into a fit of giggles, like a stupid joke that made no sense. She had a handful of comedy records in her collection and some nights, they would just get high and listen to George Carlin or Cheech and Chong, laughing their asses off.

The topic eventually shifted to what she didn't like. If she loved coming up with her own tap routines, she equally hated being woken up. No matter where she'd fallen asleep - a bed, a sofa, the back of the motorcycle - anyone who tried to wake her up suffered dearly. (Eddie recalled with a laugh how he had learned that the hard way, and how his ears rang for days.) She loved to laugh, but she didn't like being laughed at. She didn't like those she cared about being laughed at. And most of all, she hated being ignored.

A silence settled between them. After all that, what could he possibly say? "Wow, that's a lot."

"Yeah, but it's not enough." Was it just him, or did Eddie look exhausted after sharing so much?

"What do you mean?" If that wasn't enough, what was?

"That's all basic stuff. Learning someone's favorite movie or song is easy, and we talked about plenty of things beyond that. I've seen what happens to her when she isn't treated right. It's just…this," he gestured back and forth between them, "happened because she was trying to tell me something and I didn't listen." He cracked a crooked smirk and tossed back the rest of his drink. "I guess that's where the 'nearly-loved' came from. So, any other questions?"

"Yes, about you."

Eddie raised his eyebrows, but he didn't look surprised. "I figured. What can I tell you?"

"I want to start with when I sang your lyrics to that song. How did that happen? You just asked if I minded and the next thing I know, 'Hello, Mary Lou' is coming out of my mouth!"

Now the biker looked ashamed. "Yeah, that was kind of shitty, and I really am sorry about that. All I can say is that if I want something bad enough, nothing's going to stop me from taking it, even if it is just singing along to the radio."

"Yeah, but how?"

Eddie frowned in concentration for a moment. "Picture we're both in a car and you're driving." He nodded; he'd never driven before, but by now, he'd seen enough driving in movies and TV to get the idea. "I see somewhere I really want to go, so I push you out of the car and take the wheel myself. You're still hanging on to the car, but you can't really control it."

That...actually made sense (even if it left him with the image of getting dragged by a car), except for one thing. "But what about when I saw you buying her that gift? That was so real, I could have been there. Did you show me that for a reason?"

Eddie hesitated, clearly about to start another attempted explanation. "You weren't really in your right mind for that. Smoking that stuff and Frank going down on you kind of scrambled the border between my half and yours."

So that's what he was doing during the Christmas memory. "Could it happen again?"

"Maybe." He didn't know whether to be relieved or nervous at "maybe," but Eddie held up a hand. "But seriously, I shouldn't have done that to you before. If I want to do it again next time, I'll ask and actually let you answer first. If you say no, case closed."

Well, that was good to know. "But I still don't get it. How can you actually...do all that?"

"I wish I could tell you," Eddie sighed, "but someone smarter than me might be able to explain it. When I got involved in this, Frank and that creepy butler didn't tell me anything. I think they were just happy to have me."

Got involved. He wasn't sure how much Eddie had wanted to help in his creation, but a bigger question hit him: what were the chances that he would still exist if Eddie hadn't come along?

"Anything else?" The delivery boy's voice brought him back to the moment. He shoved this question aside in favor of what probably seemed obvious but would be better to have out between them. "Yes. Where do we go from here?"

"Well, I won't sneak up on you like that again. But anyway, if you want to meet back here, just concentrate on that feeling and you'll be here before you know it."

"Any time?"

"Day or night. Just be careful of you-know-who. I don't think he'd like us getting together."

He understood perfectly. Whatever he wanted to say next was interrupted by the jukebox - how long had that been there? - coming to life. Elvis' "It's Now or Never" came pouring out.

Was the room getting darker?

Regardless, Eddie stayed calm. "Just give her time. She needs somebody to be there for her, and you gotta show her that she can trust you. And above all, trust her."

Trust her, trust her, trust her…

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

An observation about the stage version, at least from the productions I've seen online: there's no mention of an elevator. When Brad and Janet get undressed and the crew sets the lab up, they're either shuffled off to one side while the curtain closes or – in the case of the European tour – they're left on stage while the lights go dark. I know every production does things differently, but that's my big takeaway. Hence why there is no elevator here.