Forever

FOREVER—CHAPTER 25 (NC-17)

 

 

A/N Thanks bunches to Foxfeather for being a beta
extraordinaire and to InterNutter for letting me abuse her springboard!

Thanks
oodles and oodles to those who reviewed!

 

 

 

 

 

“Can I just
get an aspirin? Advil? Something!” Lance pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, the
migraine building. Damn it! Stupid mutation!

“In just a
minute, sir…what’s her name again?” The
orderly flipped through the papers that would become Amara’s chart, looking
vaguely concerned.

“Amara…shit,
what’s her last name again? Amara
Aquilla.” I think that’s what Kitty
said…shit. Kitty’s gonna kill me.

“That’s
unusual. Italian?” The orderly shuffled through more papers,
trying to find…what? He made a slight
sound of discovery and pulled out a piece of light cardboard with a hospital
bracelet attached.

“Nova
Roman.” Lance slid further down in the
plastic chair, his bare back sticking where sweat had dried. The light was hurting his eyes and he
thought he might be ill. Tabitha had
disappeared as soon as the orderlies had met them at the sliding glass doors to
the ER, taking Amara from Lance’s arms.
Lance decided to worry about Tabby later and followed Amara into the
exam room.

“So it is
Italian?”

“Does it
matter?” Lance knew very little about
Nova Roma and it’s people, only that Amara was from a secluded island where
technology had mostly passed them by.
Every once in a while, while they were in his room, he could see her try
and figure out something he took for granted, like the VCR or a CD player. She’s as innocent as Kitty looks, when
you cut to the quick. She’s innocent
and I’ve ruined her.

“Just
trying to make conversation, dude. It’s
gonna be a while.” The man fastened the
numbered band around Amara’s wrist, the girl only stirring slightly. “She’ll get one with her name on it after I
get these papers processed. Just sit
tight.” With that, the orderly was
gone.

Lance peered through narrow eyes at
Amara, still bloody and bruised, lying on the stark white sheets of the
hospital bed. “Should I call someone
for you?” he whispered to her. “Can you
even hear me?” Lance shifted a little,
leaning forward to touch her cheek.
“Shit, Amara. How the Hell did
we get here?” Amara made a soft noise,
responding to him through her haze of painkillers. “Don’t talk, baby.
Just…rest.” The sound of papers
being shuffled made Lance snap his head to the door.

“I’m Doctor Johansen, the physician
on call today. Are you this young
lady’s…?” The tall man raised an
eyebrow, begging an answer.

“Um, I guess you could call me her
boyfriend…” Lance’s head hurt terribly
and he gritted his teeth through the answer.
“Could I get some aspirin? I’m
getting a migraine…” Lance passed a
hand over his aching eyes, acutely aware that he was clad only in jeans,
standing in the cold hospital exam room.

“And your name is?”

“Lance. Lance Alvers. Is she
going to be okay?” He could not help
the note of worry in his voice.

“Well, Mister Alvers, we need to
run some more tests…do you know who did this?”
The doctor had his pen poised above the clipboard, ready to write down
everything Lance said.

“Yeah, I know and no, I’m not going
to say.”

“Was it you?” Dr. Johansen crossed
his arms over his chest, peering down his nose at Lance.

“What?!?” Lance roared, suddenly on
his feet. “I may be a world class
asshole but I’d never, never hit Amara!” Unless she asked me to…

“Are you sure about that? She’s been badly beaten and you’re not very
forthcoming with the identity of the person who did it…”

Amara chose this moment to
speak. Croak, actually. “Boom Boom.” Her eyes were still closed but her fists were clenching and
unclenching on the bed, as if she were trying to finish the fight.

“Boom Boom?” Dr. Johansen looked askance at Lance.

“Someone we know…” Not my friend, I think. Just someone I know now.

“Hmmm. I see. We’ll come back to that. Just so you are aware, we are required to
report all cases of violence to the local authorities. You don’t have to file charges, but we do
report it.[1]” Lance nodded reluctantly and the doctor
continued, “Were you aware Miss Aquilla was pregnant?”

“Was? It’s…she…?” Lance was not
sure how to feel about this. Twice
now, twice I’ve been a father and never knew until it was too late. Twice.
Fuck me; I think I’m goinggo cgo crazy.
God, how’s Amara going to feel about this? How did she feel about being pregnant? Why do I care? Shit, I
know why I care…

“Miss Aquilla suffered numerous
mild to severe contusions, several fractures of the ribs and skull, and a
ruptured vessel in her lung. She also
suffered a miscarriage due to massive trauma to the lower abdominal
region.” The doctor paused here to fix
an assessing gaze on Lance. “Were you
the father?”

“Yeah…yeah I was.” Lance heard the quaver in his voice and
damned himself for it.

“I see…well, we’re going to run a
few more CT Scans and do a pelvic exam along with an ultrasound to assess
further damage. Until then, does she
have a legal guardian we can contact?[2] A parent or someone?”

Lane shook himself mentally,
willing his mind not to wander back into the burgeoning pain behind his
eyes. “Uh, yeah---Professor
Xavier. She lives at that Xavier
Institute…” He was glad he had stopped
himself before “Freak Central” slipped out.
He rattled off the number that Amara had first given him so many days
ago and answered a few more questions for the doctor before being left alone
again with Amara. I was right, then.
I loved the idea of Kitty. I
never would have let Kitty go this far for me.
I never would have gone this far for her. Kitty is everything I am not—I’ve known her since before we knew
about mutants, for fuck’s sake. Amara,
Amara is different. Dark and innocent
at once. God, she gave me her virginity. I’ve never…not with a virgin…Kitty is like
some icon, some ideal that I knew I’d never be able to achieve. Amara understands what it feels like to be
alone, to be hated and to hate. She’s
afraid, like I am. I wonder if she’s
even thought of Scott once during the last week. Lance felt bilious jealousy rise at the thought of Amara running,
crying to Scott and receiving his protection.
Amara moaned a little in her haze and Lance snapped out of his
self-pity. “They’re going to be here
soon. You should be cleaned up…” Overcome by a protective, tender streak,
Lance moved about the room, gathering gauze pads and a kidney-shaped bowl,
fillingwithwith water. Very gently, he
dabbed at the dried blood around her mouth with a damp piece of gauze, mopping
up as much blood as he could before the fabric was useless. Moving on, he used fresh gauze on her nose,
her neck, and the parts of her skin visible outside the hospital gown. When he was finished, most of the blood was
gone but traces still remained under her nails, where she had scrabbled at her
face, trying to feel for a broken nose, and around her ears where the blood had
run down in the car.

“Um, Mister Alvers?” A young nurse assistant stood in the
doorway, watching him. When he did not
respond, she held out a scrub top and a pair of hospital slippers. “Dr. Johansen said you might need
these. It gets cold in here…” Without a word, he took them from her and
she vanished gratefully, scared of the angry look in his eyes.

“Amara, I know you can hear me…I’m
going to stay as long as they’ll let me…
You don’t need to be alone for this.”
Lance made a vow to himself then and there. He would never let her feel the pain of being alone in a world
that marked them as freaks, as different, ever again. A sudden calm came over him and his back stiffened in resolve[3]. Dr. Johansen rounded the corner into the
room and Lance’s eyes snapped with new purpose. “I’m not leaving her.”

“Uh, good…I think. I called her
residence and someone from the Institute will be here within the hour. You can walk down to radiology with her, but
you’ll have to stay outside the room during the scan.” Lance nodded, swallowing hard. “And you can not be in the room for her
pelvic exam or ultrasound.
Understood?” Lance murmured
agreement and stood out of the way as the orderly swept back into the room and
unlocked the gurney. Led by the doctor,
the motley crew marched on radiology.

 

“Wha…?” Jubilee felt her jaw drop so far she was sure she would lose her
gum. “You sure it’s her?”

“Sure ‘nough, p’tite. Kurt tell me dat computer have a 99.8
percent accuracy rate.” Remy leaned
back against Jubilee’s door, eyeing her room with interest. “You sleep in dis mess?”

“It’s not a mess. It’s creative disarray.” Jubilee stood from her sprawl on the bed and
shook the printout at Remy. “What do we
do now?”

“Gah! How
the hell am I supposed to know?” Her
pacing brought her uncomfortably close to Remy, his presence a tangible force
in her room. She shifted her path,
pacing between her bed and her dresser now, safely away from the warmth
radiating off of the Cajun. Remy raised
an eyebrow at her and shrugged, very Gallic, as if to say “you’re on your
own!” Jubilee ran her hands through her
hair and puffed her cheeks in frustration.
“Okay. We confront her. Just march on in and say, ‘We know, we saw,
you disgust us[4],’ Think
it’ll work?”

“No, Blanche, I don’ think it will…” Remy
shifted away from the wall and walked towards Jubilee, his movements cat-like
and graceful. Jubilee froze in sudden
terror, her throat parched and heart racing a mile a minute. Remy stopped a short distance from the girl,
leaving her enough space to evade him if she chose to. He towered over her and Jubilee felt the
butterflies in her stomach begin a fandango.

“Remy, what’re you doing?”

“Waitin’.”

“For…”

“An answer.”


Jubilee released a pent-up breath and a shaky
laugh. “Why so close, then?”

“Cuz. I like
it.” Jubilee opened her mouth to
protest but he held up one finger, bare above his half-glove. “Eh—you said I can flirt, non?”

“Yeah, but…”

“And you say it not matter who wit…non?”

“Non…I mean oui.
I mean…GRAR!” Jubilee threw up
her hands in frustration, sexual energy thrumming through her body. “Look, we have some major issues to deal
with here, the least of which is our little snog fest last night. More importantly, we have Amara trying to
get Kitty and Kurt in some deep shit, sneaking around with Brotherhood assholes
and we’re the only ones who know about it!”

“I be thinkin’ Amara got herself a pretty good idée
about it…”

“Fun-ny, Gumbo.
Real funny.” Jubilee swung her
desk chair around so that she could straddle it, bracing her chest against the
back and praying to whichever god was listening that he would not notice her
hands shake. “Okay. My Plan by Jubilation Lee….” She sucked on
her lower lip for a moment, unaware of the sharp intake of breath from Remy at
her action. “Okay. I said that, didn’t I? Well….lessee here. We confront her. We tell
her that we know and we tell her that she’s busted. Make her apologize to Kurt and Kitty, apologize to Storm for
making her wreck car car and wring it out of her about who she’s slumming
with.”
oundound like you been thinkin’ on dis…” Remy averted his gaze when he found it
lingering on Jubilee’s mouth. “I half
‘spec you to do somethin’…else.”

“Like blackmail?”
She smirked at Remy’s openhanded gesture of acknowledgement. “I’ve already got enough on her thanks to
Jamie…”

“Oh?” Remy
stepped closer, interested.

“Now, now, Cajun.
If I told you, it would be my deep dark secret to use against her now
would it?” Jubilee leaned back a
little, putting psychological distance between them.

“Oh, c’mon, chere.
You can tell ol’Remy anythin’. I
be all ears…” Remy was close enough
that she could detect the salty tang of his skin beneath his cologne. His hands were stuffed into his pockets but
Jubilee could see that they were balled into fists.

“Could you, um, just step back a foot or so?” Jubilee could not, would not, look him in
the eyes. Remy stood stock still for a
moment then complied, taking one giant step backwards. “Thanks.
I was feeling…”

“Close?”

“Yeah…close.”
Jubilee finally looked up and the fire in Remy’s eyes scorched her. She was very aware of the marks on her neck,
darker than the bruises on her face now were.
Three small marks, evidence of Remy’s touch on her skin. Think of Rogue. She’d kill me. I’d let
her, I think. I’m a spoiled brat and
Rogue loves Remy. Fixing this
thought firmly in her mind, Jubilee tilted her chin up in defiance of her
racing heart. Rsmilsmiled a little and
softened his gaze.

“You be thinkin’ bout last night.”

“Er…”

“ ‘Sokay. I
be thinkin’ on it, aussi.[5] I be thinkin’ on it all night, all day…”
Remy stepped close to her again and dropped to his knees, bringing his eyes
level with her own. “P’tite, ma belle[6],
don’ think on Rogue no more. She be
sweet girl, non? Mais she not who I be
kissin’.”

“Only because you can’t…” Jubilee knew she sounded petulant but she shoved aside her
embarrassment for the moment.

“Ah, where dere be a will, ma chou[7],
dere be a way…” Remy brought his face
close to Jubilee and she parted her lips in unwilling anticipation. At the last moment, he brought his lips to
her ear and whispered, “I be havin’ a lot of prollems wit will power where you
concern, Jubilation Lee.” Jubilee
shivered, her heart slowing to molasses-in-January speed. “Lissen to Remy good, chere. You mope ‘bout Rogue all you want but I done
wit dat. She always be my friend et she
always be beautiful, but she not what I want, not in here.” He tapped his heart and Jubilee’s eyes
widened before snapping shut at the feel of his breath against her ear. “I aitiaitin’ Jubilee. You know where to find me.” Remy rose to his feet and left the room as
silently as he had come while Jubilee remained shaking in her chair. Once in the hall, Remy exhaled a long breath
and shook his head somewhat ruefully.
“Ball in yo’ court p’tite.”

 

Kitty licked her lips repeatedly, tasting Kurt’s
mouth again and again. True to her
words, she did not sleep. She lay in
bed and stared at the ceiling, puzzling the new twist in the drama that was her
life. There’s an easy way out of
this. I just can’t see what it is. It has to be something so obvious that I’ll
feel like an idiot for not seeing it. She
rolled onto her stomach, hanging her head off the side of the bed. God, I’m messy. Look at all this shit under here. Kurt’s shirt…oh, I think I’ll hold on to that. No one has to know I’m cuddling with dirty
clothes. Yaya’s photo album…I’ve got to
get around to looking through it one day, when the memories don’t hurt so much. Dustbunnies, and if that’s a spider I’m
going to scream like a girl so help me God…Kitty rolled onto her back
again, flopping her arms onto the mattress.
What the…oh. The
journal. Wouldn’t hurt to read it
again. Maybe Yaya’s strength will be my
strength…Never could get past the liberation entry, anyway. I’ll just start there this time. Kitty flipped through the well-worn pages
and found the journal entry she usually dissolved into tears after
reading. It was Yaya’s first entry
after being liberated from the camp and coming to the states. Allowing herself a few tears, Kitty began the
next entry aoon oon lost all track of time.
The last entry was dated the year of her father’s birth and was written
by a jubilant woman, expecting the birth of her first child. I’m so sorry he turned out this way,
Yaya… Kitty was openly sobbing when she reached the end of the book, so
much so that she almost did not notice the index card that fell out and onto
her sheets. What the… Flipping
it over, she saw it was covered in Yaya’s scrawl, a mix of Greek and Ladino,
peppered with English. Eyes wide, Kitty
read the card twice to be sure what she was seeing was true. No…so easy! Oh, God! It’s so
simple! I was right! The note was relatively short, written when
Yaya knew that she was dying, when she had given Kitty the book for
safekeeping.

Dearest Aikaterine,

The hardest thing you can do in life is
die. It is not always a physical death
that causes the most pain, though.
Sometimes the emotional or spiritual deaths are the worst—I have been
through both and nearly died physically more than once so I know from whence I
speak. Aikaterine, I know that soon you
will have hard times and things will seem black and full of despair. I want you to always remember you are not
beholden to your father for anything, not even your name. Look to me for all your comfort, even after
I am gone. I will always protect you,
my little one, my best-loved child.
Remember me in all things and never fear of failing me—you never
could.

Love,

Yaya

 

Kitty sucked in a breath through her teeth and
shifter her attention to the photo album, given to her also right before Yaya
died from cancer. Look to me for all
your comfort…I will always protect you…Kitty carefully opened the cover of
the album to be confronted by several old photos of her grandmother as a young
woman, still in Europe but after the war.
She wore her traditional head covering, the same one that Kitty wore
when she went to Yaya’s funeral. Her
face was remarkably sad but strong, defiant in the face of death all around
her. Most of the pictures seemed to be
in a mountain town but Kitty had no idea where in Europe it could be. Can’t be back in Greece…I’ve seen
pictures of their village and it was never this green. No snow, either…The next page had
pictures taken from the boat as it came into the port that would bring her
grandmother to the states. Several
pictures were of someone Kitty guessed to be immigration official, making Kitty
laugh because she could just picture her grandmother explaining “It’s so I’ll
always remr yor you at Passover!” The
next several pages had pictures of her home in the states, Kitty’s grandfather,
their wedding, and various shots from their honeymoon to Niagara Falls. The pictures segued into photos of the
growing Pryde family, bar mitzvahs, Chanukahs, a trip to Israel taken before
Kitty was born, and finally Kitty herself.
Her grandmother had numerous baby pictures, some haphazardly stuck
between pages when there was no more room for them under the protective
plastic. The last several pages were of
Kitty in belly dance costumes, Kitty’s bat mitzvah, her in traditional Greek
costume for her grandmother’s eightieth birthday…. Kitty had almost reached the
last page and was almost out of hope. Damn
it. I was so sure that the answer would
be in here. Hello…A thick white
envelope was tucked behind the last page of the album. Fingers trembling only slightly, Kitty
spilled its contents onto the bed. The
topmost document was an application for name change that had never been sent
in, requesting a change of the last name Prydakos to Pryde. Huh.
Never knew anyone had actually applied or thought of applying to change
our name. Several immigration
documents were behind the name change request but the last thing, the thick,
cream-colored paper, bore the answer that Kitty was looking for. One simple document made everything click
into place. Feeling as if a world had
been lifted from her shoulders, Kitty let out a joyous ululation and leapt from
the bed. Gotta tell Kurt! Kitty felt a million times better than she
had a mere hour ago, phasing through her door and all objects in her path until
she found Kurt. His mother was asleep
in the large armchair in the rec room where Kitty had last seen her while Kurt
sipped lemonade, staring unblinkingly at the television. On silent feet, Kitty approached him from
behind and dropped a kiss on top of his head.
Kurt jumped a little, sloshing lemonade onto himself before turning to
face her.

“Katzchen!
What are you doing up?”

“I’m so happy, Kurt! Happy happy joy joy![8]” She bounced on her toes, still speaking
sotto voce.

Kurt eyed her a little warily. “Are you sure you’re okay? Beast said…”
“I found the solution!” Kitty punctuated each word with a kiss on
his forehead and cheeks.

“To?”

“Our problem!”
Kitty seized him by the arms and fairly dragged him over the couch. “Be quiet!
I don’t want to wake Astrid!”
Kurt smiled at her familiarity with his mother but followed Kitty
willingly. She led him to her room
where she had several papers spread out on her bed. “Look!”

“Vas?” Kurt
wrinkled his brow in confusion. “I
don’t get it…”

“Kurt, they can’t sue the institute. I don’t exist.” Kitty seemed incredibly happy about that.

“Uh, Katzchen, I think you’re a little off
today. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll
go get Dr. McCoy…” Kurt was already
backing away, eyeing her worriedly.

“Kurt! Calm
down! I’m not cracking up!” Kitty practically leapt into Kurt’s
arms. “I have it all figured out and
when we all meet with that arbitrator person, I can fix all this mess we’re in!” She kissed him hard on the mouth. Kurt moaned a little with pent up sexual tension
and gave in, kissing her back. Frantic
kisses dissolved into one long, wet, passionate kiss. Kurt lifted her off her feet and walked with her to the bed. “Wait—have to move the papers!” Kitty squirmed from his grasp and put all
the papers into one pile on her dresser, returning to Kurt’s open arms. “Now…” She kissed him again and threw her
head back, letting his tongue and teeth trail their way down to her
collarbone. Kitty gasped as he touched
his fangs to the sensitive flesh found there and then moaned in disappointment
as he pulled away.

“Katzchen, we can’t…no birth control…”

“Well, there’s more to making love than just
sex…” Despite their intimacy, Kitty
still flushed.

“And well, I want to court you properly before we go
to bed together again…” Kurt shifted a
little uncomfortably, the bulge between his thighs making him hyper-aware of
every sensation on his skin.

“Kurt,
my love, you are such a gentleman sometimes that it hurts.” Kitty looked down at the ground, speaking
again in a small voice, “So how long does this courting thing take?”

“Heh. It all depends.” Kurt moved to sit on the bed, motioning for Kitty to sit with
him. He rested his head on her shoulder
and sighed sadly. “I’m sorry,
Katzchen. I just want to do this
right.”

“Sweetie,
there is no wrong way to do this.
Whatever happens is just us…”
Kitty nuzzled his hair then suddenly sat up straight. “This must be my day for ideas, love.”

“Vas? Why do I suddenly feel like Desi on I
Love Lucy?”

“Wanna
make out?” Her grin was decidedly
devilish. “No sex. No touching below the waist…well, not with
hands…not even oral sex…Just fooling around.”

“Don’t
get me wrong, Katzchen, but won’t that make things worse?” Kurt could just imagine the incredible pain
such an activity would put him in.

“Not
always…” She moved to straddle his lap
and whispered in his ear, “There are plenty of ways to relieve…tension…without
touching there.” She kissed him
below his ear, darting her tongue out to make him groan. “Want to see?” Kurt nodded mutely and Kitty shoved him back onto the bed. “Where’s Logan?”

“Don’t know…gotta be…quiet…” Kurt was quickly losing control of coherent
thought. Kitty nibbled his neck and
chin, finally laving the inside of his mouth with her tongue. Involuntarily his hips arched and he found
the source of his discomfort pressed against her jeans-clad center. He moaned aloud now, albeit quietly, at the
thought that she was so close but so far, teasing him, just out of reach. Kitty was rubbing her breasts against his
chest in blatant suggestion so he complied, slipping one hand under her shirt
to find that she was braless, her nipples already hard with ill-suppressed
desire. She sank her teeth into his
lower lip, not quite breaking the skin but eliciting a hiss from Kurt
nonetheless when he gave her nipple a firm pinch. Kitty ground her hips against his arousal and arched her
neck. “Katzchen, I can’t do this much
longer! It’s been so long…”

“Ditto… God, I’m already so close!” Kitty rubbed herself against him again and
then gasped at the bite he returned, this time on her breast rather than her
lip as she had done to him.
“Again!” He growled softly and
repeated the action, making Kitty’s eyes roll back in her head as she continued
to grind herself against him. Kurt’s
hips thrust involuntarily with her movements as he suckled on her breast,
laving and nipping the sensitive flesh there.
Kitty reached climax first, whispering his name frantically into his
shoulder, her hands clutching at his ribs.
Kurt held back a shout of ecstasy as his own release followed on the
heels of Kitty’s, the spreading sticky warmth ignored by his bliss-filled
brain. They lay tangled together for
several moments before Kitty murmured, “I hear it’s even more fun in the back
seat of a car.”

Kurt could not help it—he burst out laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind next time Scott lets
me borrow his convertible.” Kitty
rolled off of him and drew his arm across her stomach; Kurt snuggled against
her side and smiled contentedly. “Ich
liebe dich.”

“Right back atcha, Fuzzy.” Kitty sighed and made a soft humming noise. “Kurt, I feel like I’m a new person. I’ve found how to get us out of this mess
and I think it’ll help us be together sooner than June…”

“Ja, explain that to me…quick before Logan finds
us…” Kurt had a niggling feeling that
someone was looking for them and tried not to think about Logan bursting
through Kitty’s door in full Wolverine mode.

“It’s like this, the suit claims that the Professor
and the Institute have contributed to the delinquency of a minor, one Katherine
Elaine Pryde…”
“Elaine? Your parents named you after his dead
girlfriend?” Kurt felt suddenly very
angry.

“That’s not it!
Listen…” Kitty was cut off by a
sudden pounding on the door. “Like, who
is it?” She eyed Kurt nervously. Not again!

“Kitty, it’s me!” Thank God, they both
thought, just Scott! “We gotta go to Bayville General! Amara’s in the
hospital!”

 

A/N Okay—I was wrong. Angry!Professor in ch. 26 (he did not feel like showing up in
25. SO there) If you’r wondering about the Amara-background info, it comes
partly from the comic-verse and partly from some XME character bios floating
around the ‘net.

 



[1] I am not
sure if that’s the law in New York State but that’s the law here, so I
transposed it… go me.

[2] Technically,
the doctor should not have told Lance all that stuff without Amara’s
permission. Welcome to fanfic
land….things happen.

[3] No, Lance
isn’t getting soft…well, not much. He’s
just all twitterpated. He’ll still be
BOM and evil later… J

[4] Shamelessly
stolen from A Streetcar Named Desire and altered just a little to fit the
convo. The actual line is “I know, I
saw, you disgust me!” and is spoken by Blanche DuBois when describing catching
her late husband in an act of sexual congress with another man. Wahoo.


[5] Aussi=too

[6] Ma belle= my
beauty

[7] For some
reason, calling someone a cabbage in French is considered a term of endearment. Guess it’s no stranger than calling someone
bee vomit (honey).

[8] Um, Ren and
Stimpy, anyone?