A/N: I do not own MGLN. If I did it would be renamed MBLZ, with a spin off Happy Scaglietti Family Funtime Happy Hour. Just for the lulz.

Someone for Everyone?

Chapter 1

"The Beginning is Often Riddled With False Starts."

Or

"In Which Many Readers Double-Take."

Or

"In Which the Author is Told to Just 'Get on with it'."

Low lighting was said to be dangerous on one's eyes, most definitely not ideal for careful work. Yet, Jail Scaglietti only lit up his study (this room, unlike his numerous laboratories was just for him and not any of his creations) with a single, lonesome and quite dim, lamp. He sat at his desk, not minding that every moment spent scribbling on a piece of paper was slowly causing decay to his eyeballs. He liked glasses anyway.

Jail was in the midst of "very important business". None of the numbers, several of whom were posed around the door, their ears and eyes at the crack where they could only see his hunched form, had any clue what he did in there except run through a lot of paper. All they knew was Jail was not to be disturbed when he was in there, as Uno had warned them. She was the only number who'd ever entered there.

Wendi theorized that he spent his time writing romance novels. The theory might have been sound had she not insisted they had to be romance novels. Nove had been quick to point out the fact the idea of the Doctor writing a romance novel was not only ridiculous but impossible. After all the Doctor had no such experience... as far as they were aware.

That was why numbers VI, IX, X (having been dragged there) and XI were gathered around the door. They couldn't actually hear or see much of anything. But Sein had proposed a new theory, and that was what they were trying to find truth to. She suggested that perhaps the Doctor was... writing love letters.

It seemed possible enough. He was a young (they guessed, no one actually knew the doctors' age), handsome (okay so they didn't have much experience with too many other men), and mostly, probably, kinda sane guy. The idea that he had a girlfriend off somewhere wasn't too unlikely...

No, that was a lie. It was as unlikely as the romance novels.

"I can't see the Doctor involved in any such relationship," Deici spoke bluntly, never one to use one more word than necessary. She stood off to the side. The taciturn Number wasn't there by choice but rather by force, though it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

"Aww~ you're no fun," Wendi pouted and wiggled closer to the door, hoping to hear a wistful sigh or something of the sort. "It's so romantic. The lonesome scientist, holed up in his lab~ thinking the whole time of his one true love."

"It's ridiculous," Nove scoffed, "besides, the doctor has us. He doesn't need another woman."

"Well there are just some kind of things the Doctor can't get from us," Sein smiled mischievously then giggling at the sight of her sisters' confused faces. "You know lik-"

"Ahem."

The four younger numbers all snapped to attention, pretending that they most definitely had not been spying on Jail.

"T-Tre-nee-sama, Cinque-nee-sama."

"It's good to see you all so lively," Cinque scratched her neck, eying them all suspiciously but not without humor, "but really... what exactly do you lot think you're doing?"

"..." Not a single one of them could come up with a suitable answer.

Fortunately they were spared from having to.

Jail's door slid open, the man himself standing in the doorway. If the mangy purple haired man found it odd that half of his Numbers were outside his door he didn't let it show. Instead he stuffed something in his pocket and started walking down the hall, seemingly ignoring his creations until he called back, "I'm headed out for a while, just relax." With a lazy wave their mysterious master disappeared down the hall.

"Wow," Wendi watched the space where he'd been, "I guess the Doctor must have been doing something super important."

...

...

Jail pulled the piece of scrap from his pocket, looking it over as he went to his giant, for there needed to be as much room as possible car. "Milk, Sugar, Apples, Motor Oil, Tea..."


This was nice. Relaxing really. Uno was always trying to help relieve Jail's stress. Whether she was trying to give him a massage or draw up a warm bath, it seemed she thought it was her responsibility. It was a pity none of those things really worked. But Jail had found his relief. He'd found it in the brightly lit aisles of the nearest super market. There was something therapeutic about the rap rap rap of the carts wheels against the tiled floor.

Of course it was incredibly risky for a high profile criminal to go waltzing around the supermarket. He'd already just barely escaped capture from three different grocery stores. The fact that he never bothered to change out of his lab coat didn't help. Uno had told him not to risk it but Jail felt no real fear.

This was a new grocery store for him. As a result he wasn't quite sure where anything was. It didn't help that the store was one of those places that really put the SUPER in supermarket. He could easily get lost there and he did. Jail spent a good twenty minutes in the cereal aisle wondering if he should buy the giant box of Flix, or the variety pack of three different types.

It took Jail a good three hours to get through his list, mostly because of his tendency to be indecisive when it came to a good sale. If pasta was on sale for 2 for 2$ he'd be sure to buy twenty, he had a big family to feed after all. By the end of those three hours he had not one but two carts worth of supplies. Perfect. He waited patiently in line, flipping through a trashy rag, a guilty pleasure of his. Apparently there was some sort of story about some "Aces' love dodecahedron" Jail couldn't imagine such a thing could exist but curiosity made him throw the magazine in.

The scientist piled his groceries onto the conveyor belt, there were quite a few of them so he ended up stacking. He paid without even looking up, it was best to meet the eyes of as few people as possible. Jail's total was less then he'd expected, the skill of his sale-fu was stronger then he'd thought. He was almost done when something hit his ear.

In a voice so small, so soft had there been any other noise it would have been drowned out. "Would you like paper or plastic sir?"

Baa-dum.

Never in his life had there been a moment Jail hadn't been thinking. Even in his dreams he was always plotting and planning. It wasn't his fault really. It was a side effect of his infinite greed, he eternally thought of ways to get more and more and more but- for the first time. His brain shut down.

Baa-dum.

Completely and totally. It just ceased function. It was a simple question. Two options. Paper or Plastic? Both options would result in the same end result Jail taking his groceries back to his secret hideout.

Baa-dum.

But his brain couldn't form an answer. He looked up at the questioner, the bagger, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish for what seemed an eternity.

Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum.

She was absolutely nothing like any of his Combat Cyborgs. That was the first cognitive thought that entered his head. It had nothing to do with the question still hanging in the air, paper or plastic. No, the first thought in his head was about her. She was smaller then any of his creations. Save for Cinque but he didn't count Cinque. This woman was definitely a woman, unlike Cinque who, as he'd apologized for many times, would never quite breach what was accepted as childhood.

Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum.

Maria. The girl's name tag read Maria. Jail estimated she was slightly less than five feet tall. Her hair was brown with just a tinge of red. Longish, reaching her just past her shoulder. She was Mid-Childian by birth, judging by her physical characteristics. Likely from the so- Wait. What was he doing? Why did he suddenly start profiling her?

Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum.

And what on Mid was wrong with his heart rate? It was going wild. His palms were starting to sweat as well and he suddenly became conscious of the fact he hadn't washed his hair in a week. As a matter of fact he couldn't remember when he'd last showered. Jail was filled with the urge to hide away, or alternately run.

Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum.

"Sir? Paper or plastic?" She repeated her question, had Jail looked closer he would have seen a twinge of concern on her face, aimed at the man seemingly hitting a mental brick wall.

Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum.

"PRALASTIPER!" Jail blurted out, having no clue at all what he was saying. There were two options and he'd taken a third.

"Okay," and she promptly started to put his groceries in paper sacks the put those sacks in plastic ones. When she was finally done, it took quite a while, she finished with a, "Have a nice day." Her smile radiated with the intensity of a thousand chemical explosions.

Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum Baa-dum.

Jail drove home faster then he ever had before.


"UNO!" After unloading his groceries with a speed previously unbeknownst to him, he'd research that later, the scientist stomped through his base, searching for his second in command.

"Yes sir?" Uno looked up from the book she had been reading, she didn't have time to even put in a bookmark before Jail dragged her off to his quarters leaving a ten confuzzled mechanical girls in his wake.

Jail collapsed in his chair then looked up at Uno with a solemn expression. "Uno, I am very ill." This was a serious issue, clones could always take his place but Jail was in no hurry to die if it could be prevented. His illness would competely change their plans. They'd just failed to obtain the young Kaiser clone but retrieving her would have to be completely put off.

Concerned entered Uno's face, "What? Doctor how? What are your symptoms?"

Jail looked grim, he didn't want to frighten his reverse gender clone but he had no choice but to be honest. "Elevated heart rate. Sudden perspiration. Instant loss of cognitive function."

The concern started to float away, replaced by an almost... amused expression. Jail was taken aback. This was serious! He was potentially dying of something nasty and dangerous. "And what brought on your... illness?"

The doctor stroked his chin, "that's the thing. Nothing really. It was completely spontaneous. This girl asked me if I wanted paper or plastic. And then... my mind went blank and my heart started going crazy."

"...girl?"

"Small, probably twenty, twenty one. Brunette, trace of red. Tiny, worn hands. Funny little scar on her cheek, wearing just a touch of eyeshadow-"

Uno blinked, "You remembered all that?" This was coming from the man who weekly "forgot" to put his laundry in the basket. Then she started giggling.

Jail was taken aback. He couldn't remember Uno... giggling... ever. And he remembered a lot about Uno. "Well? What is it? What do you suppose I've got?"

"Doctor," Her giggle fit ended but her smile didn't, if anything else it grew. "I think you're just a tad in love."

"Oh, I'm in love. That makes sense." Pleased with that explanation and with the fact he was, in fact, not dying Jail spun his chair around to go to work at his desk. It was much better not to be dying. Silly Jail, mistaking love for a deadly disease. … Wait a minute. Then it hit him. The reality of what he had just said.

"I'm in WHAT?!?!?"


A/N: So I'm listening to some Jonathan Coulton and the song Skullcrusher Mountain came on. And so I lol'd then replayed the song, and replayed the song and played it for my mom, and my dad, and all my friends, and then my dog (I think he liked it) and finally my cat (I think she didn't). Along the way, an idea came to me. A simple cracky idea "Jail sure would be adorable if he fell in love".

Jail's always bothered me. Of all the Nanoha villians he's the most sterotypically mauha ha I'm evil. That bugs me. So I'm exploring Jail, through lulz and love. Because I can. What you just read was originally a cracky one off for the AnimeSuki Nanoha fanfiction forum. Requests for a sequel then came. And then it grew.

And grew.

It's currently at 8 parts and still going. I'm slowly uploading an updated version here. As I learn what the plot is as I go along I'm able to update the earlier parts accordingly. If you want faster updates and the lastest parts please check out AS.

Please Read and Review :D.