Louis wanted to see Fantasia at the Metropolis Theater. He’d been set on it all week since he saw it posted on the marquee outside; ‘Fantasia - Friday at 6.’ The words were carved into his mind, forever unchangeable. His attendance was simply a fact waiting to be confirmed. He was therefore frustrated by his new friend stopping to stare through the window of Shearman’s Amusements.

“Terra…” He said. She didn’t even glance back at him.

“Terra.” He raised his voice, but still got nothing.

Part of him wanted to carry on to the cinema on his own; it was like an itch in his head. However, he knew that Dr. Markova and the Council trusted him to look after Roddenberry’s guest. He wanted to look after her; it was what he’d always been good at.

“Come on, Terra.” He stepped up to her and gently prodded her shoulder. He felt the coarse, leathery texture of her scales even through the thick fabric of the green hoodie he’d given her.

Terra gave him a sideways glance, looking almost startled at the sight of him.

“I’m not used to that name,” she said; it wasn’t an apology. “What are they doing in there?”

Louis peered through the window. Through a door behind the counter, he saw someone in a helmet swinging a bat.

“Batting cages,” he said.

“I want to try it,” Terra said; it wasn’t a request.

Louis felt a knot tighten in his head. “But Fantasia.”

He saw Terra’s razor teeth peer from her lip. “This first.”

Louis felt like he either wanted to yell at Terra or vomit, whichever came up quickest. Instead, he took a deep breath.

“She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes,

“She can ruin your faith with her casual lies,

“And she only reveals what she wants you to see…”

He looked at Terra as he hummed the lyrics, but he didn’t see her until he was done. Until then, he imagined his father sitting at his old piano. He saw Terra again when he was ready; she’d exchanged her teeth for an arched eyebrow.

“Batting cages,” Louis said, “then Fantasia.” It wasn’t a question.

Inside, the clerk insisted that Terra wear a helmet.

“I don’t need it,” Terra said.

“It’s a safety precaution,” the clerk said. “If you get injured, we could be liable—”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I don’t need it.” Terra’s teeth appeared again.

Moments later, Louis watched as an unhelmeted Terra took her first swing. The resulting noise of her bat striking the first oncoming ball came like a short, metallic cry, echoed by a deafening crack as the ball fled into the netted chamber’s furthest corner. The small metal cannon at the opposite end of the room kept firing at Terra, each piece of ammunition meeting as swift and boisterous a fate as the first. Terra traced a perfect arc in the air with each swing, creating resonant sounds with almost no effort whatsoever.

Louis covered his ears, dreading each oncoming crack. He tried to drown out their echo.

“And she never gives out,

“And she never gives in,

“She just changed her mind…”

He was ready for the next crack, but it didn’t come. Instead, he found Terra looking at him with eyes much wider and brighter than before. He noticed the way she held the bat; it wasn’t the over-the-shoulder, loose-in-the-knees stance he normally saw people take whenever he glanced through the window of Shearman’s. It reminded him more of Uma Thurman as Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill, clutching her sword in one fist, prepared to take on another horde of assassins.

She kept looking at him.

“My turn?” Louis guessed.

Terra tilted her head. “… If you want.” She tossed him the bat, which landed on the floor in front of him. He scrambled to pick it up.

They had the baseball cannon turned back on. Louis yelped as he woefully missed his first three projectiles, either swinging too early, too late, or forgetting to altogether.

“Here.” Terra reached from behind him, her cold, scaly hands closing around Louis’.

“Sometimes the best offense is a good defense. When it comes at you, just move your weapon like this.” She guided his arms through a quick, slicing motion that put the bag at a downward diagonal angle.

“Now try again.”

Louis did; the next crack still shook his ears, but now it came with a satisfying tingle in his chest as he watched the ball hit the floor ahead of him, rolling away in defeat. He turned and smiled at Terra; his heart dropped when she looked away.

“Time for Fantasia?” He said.

“Fine,” Terra said.

Minutes later, they were in Louis’ favorite seats in the Metropolis Theater, sixth row from the front on the rightmost aisle; the perfect spot for anyone wanting a great view of the screen and an easy escape to the washroom at any moment. It was only half full tonight, as usual. However, Louis couldn’t help but notice that most people seemed to favor the left side of the theater tonight.

“What exactly is Fantasia?” Terra asked, sounding almost interrogative.

“A movie,” Louis said. “Walt Disney Animation, 1940.”

Terra’s brow furrowed. “All of that is just nonsense to me.”

Louis glanced up, finding a group of happily chatting students sliding into the seats behind him and Terra. The one who sat right behind Terra quickly decided to switch to a seat further down the row.

Finally, the light dimmed and the screen flickered to life. Louis still had his grandfather’s DVD of this film at home, but it was an entirely different experience in a theater. The sound system was better than anything he could get at home, but more than that, being at a theater meant that everybody else had to be quiet. They all had to offer their undivided attention. It meant that Louis could allow the film to become his whole world for as long as it lasted. For two wonderful, musical, epic, enchanting hours, there was no Louis Purcell, no Roddenberry - there was only Fantasia.

He heard faint humming during the “Nutcracker Suite” sequence. He turned away from the joyous, colorful display of dancing flowers and looked at Terra; she was the hummer. He nearly asked her to stop, then he realized that he was also humming.

He glanced at Terra again later during the “Rite of Spring” sequence. The sight of battling dinosaurs reminded Louis briefly of his new reptilian friend. He found Terra’s eyes more intense than in the batting cages, as if she were afraid the battle would spill out into the theater. Or did she want to join them? Louis counted down the seconds until the next sequence began.

The final sequence was “Night on Bald Mountain.” Louis’ heart raced with imagined fear as the demon Chernabog awakened atop his mountain, spreading his wings like two sharpened blades in the night sky. With a swipe of his mighty clawed hand, hordes of tormented souls flew into the air. The sight always unnerved Louis, but only enough to make him remember that it wasn’t real. He looked at Terra one more time; she was frozen in her seat, her claws tight enough around her seat’s armrests to draw stuffing.

Louis felt himself freeze as well, looking more at Terra than at the screen. He couldn’t help but wonder - was Chernabog real after all?

Finally, the musicians captured in time from 1940 took their bows, the lights returned, and the audience made their way to the exits. Louis and Terra sat for a few moments more; she stared at the screen and he stared at her, both of them left with nothing but the sound of their breathing.

Louis thought about taking Terra’s hand, but he was too afraid. Later, lying awake in bed, he would scorn himself for it.

Terra swallowed. “That’s a movie, then?”

“Yes,” Louis said.

“Are they all… Like that?”

“No. There are lots of different movies.”

Terra got to her feet. Louis followed, surprised at how numb his legs felt.

Terra turned to look at him in the aisle. “When can we see another one?”

At that, Louis managed a smile; he was desperate for one.