Below are summaries of every chapter, each one a different oneshot. The format: Chapter number, name, description, classification, and point in time (pre-, mid-, or post-Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog).

Table of Contents:

1. "Achey-Breaky Heart": Dr. Horrible took a look at himself in the mirror. He had known he wasn't healthy, for an awfully long time. He just hadn't known it was showing. (Angst, post-Blog)

2: "Laundry Baskets": Billy had once read that you could tell more about a person by looking on their bookshelf, or even into their garbage can, than you could ever know in person. He supposed that held true for laundry baskets as well. (General, mid-Blog)

3: "Now The Water's Rising": Billy had a secret. It was one he was ashamed of, but that gave him remarkable power inside. (Horror, mid-Blog)

4: "First to Fall": Billy at Penny's grave. (Angst, post-Blog)

5: "Being Her Storm and Her Bay": Billy and Penny took a walk to the park on an almost-rainy day. (General, mid-Blog)

6: "See You There": Billy/Penny rambling gooeyness. (Romance/Fluff, pre-Blog)

7: "Let the Music Play": Billy lived in a musical world, one where he could break into song and then reasonably expect musical accompaniment and maybe a couple dozen people singing along.... (Fluff, pre-Blog)

8: "From A Comic Book": He was a villain, young Billy decided. It was a hard decision, but a necessary one. (General, pre-Blog)

9: "Freeze Ray": Dr. Horrible had inventor's block. (General, pre-Blog)

10: "The Extra Yogurt": Why did Penny have two yogurts in "So They Say"? (Angst, mid-Blog)

11: "Karaoke Night": Dr. Horrible finally gets over Penny. (Songfic/Hurt/Comfort, post-Blog)

12: "Comic-Con": Horrible, stuck in the middle of San Diego. (Humor, pre-Blog)

13: "Fade to Grey": His morals were slipping... (Angst, post-Blog)

14: "Ignorance": Billy got a glance at his future. (General/Angst, pre-Blog)

15: "Fever Dreams": Horrible got sick. (General, pre-Blog)

16: "Alone": Billy sat in the lab... utterly alone. (Angst, pre/mid-Blog)

17: "The Lesson": Dr. Horrible shows up for a certain appointment. (Suspense, pre-Blog)

Disclaimer: I don't own Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (which belongs to Mutant Enemy) or anything related. This is a fan work and not made for profit.



His skin was cold.

He first noticed it on a July day. He had his gloves off for a moment—they were tainted with chemicals and needed to be cleaned—and he'd held a hand to his forehead to keep his throbbing headache from exploding out of his brain. The effect was surprisingly immediate relief, like that of an ice pack.

He pulled his hand away, startled, and stared at his hand like a foreign object. He so rarely had his hands ungloved anymore… He observed it. It was white, almost translucent, from the lack of sunlight. He held it up against the florescent of his lab and frowned slightly. He couldn't see it well enough, so with his other hand he pushed up his goggles.

He recoiled from the sudden brightness that burned his eyelids. He supposed he hadn't had the goggles off much lately, either. Blinking furiously, he walked to his bathroom and pushed open the door, swinging his body militaristically directly in front of the large mirror. He had to switch off the room's light so he could see himself clearly.

His reflected face was pale, so pale, except for the dark circles under his slightly-bulging blue eyes with abnormally large pupils. He wasn't healthy. He had known he wasn't healthy, for an awfully long time. He just hadn't known it was showing.

Bumpety-bum-bum-bumpety-bum-bum…His headache pounded in time to the rhythm of his heart beating in his ears. He leaned against the shower door, suddenly exhausted, and slid down until he was sitting on the grimy floor with his knees propped up in front of him and his head buried in the crooks of his elbows, his starchy red uniform sleeves pushed up.

Penny. The thought came unbidden, as it always did whenever he was at his worst, at his weakest. His chest heaved, but he knew he wouldn't cry—he had lost the ability to do so a long time ago. His stomach tossed around sickeningly, empty, and he let his muscles contract before they relaxed.

He waited several seconds before he was sure he wouldn't throw up, and got up and came to the sink, letting ice-cold water run over his hands as he splashed it on his face. Turning off the faucet, he rubbed his head on a towel. He picked up his goggles and held them for a very long moment.

Then he put them back on.