The Universe's Mixer

[backdated to Valentine's Day]

At the end of a long and profitable day at the Sherwood Florist, Dinah relished flipping the sign to closed. Half an hour later, she had finished up the paperwork that she could concentrate on and headed upstairs. She paused as she got in the door, looking at the empty apartment. Despite the busy work day, she wasn't quite ready for bed, but wasn't sure if she was ready for patrolling again. She retrieved her smartphone and glanced at the message indicator. It was beeping yet again.

Dinah rolled her eyes and hoped that the City would stop sending these her way when Valentine's Day was over. She set about trying to clear the messages out, including the ones she'd briefly listened to that morning. She paused at the message from 'Bob' as she recognized a voice in the background, and definitely recognized that spell.

Once she cleared out the messages, she hung up and dialed Harry's house phone number, knowing that his cell phone was most likely ( out of order again. )

The first time he saw the building, Jean-Paul wasn't sure if it was just the city playing tricks on him again. But the second time he went by, it was still there, managing to look neatly tucked away while standing out at the same time. Or perhaps it only stood out because it was the one place Jean-Paul's really recognized since his arrival.

Regardless of the reasoning, when he passed by for the third time, Jean-Paul stopped. This building - at least on the outside - was identical to the one Dr. Strange lived and worked in. Part of Jean-Paul knew that this could be a trap, that the familiarity was only on the outside, but if Dr. Strange was here, he could tell Jean-Paul what had happened. He probably still didn't know where Aurora was, but finding a way out of this world was the only possible step towards finding her right now.

He was on the doorstep almost before he knew it, knocking sharply on the door. He was sure the rapid noise made it sound like he was in a tremendous rush - or very angry - and while neither was particularly true (he wanted to leave as quickly as possible, of course, but if Dr. Strange was in, that meant he probably couldn't get out either), Jean-Paul cheerfully encouraged the illusion. The sooner he could get some of his questions answered, the better.

Hannibal had come back to his office to find very little amiss. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but in a city such as this one, it could have been anything, really. In fact, he could have come back to no office at all. Fortunately, it was still there. His name was still on the door, and his things were all in place.

Except for the monkey.

Jack the Monkey, the center of the zombie crisis, Patient Zero, in fact, was gone. His cage was gone as well, all of the food that Hannibal had kept in his small refrigerator for the monkey was also gone. Aside from his notebook, which detailed everything that had gone on, all the experiments from beginning to end, everything was absent. Were it not for his notes, it would be almost as if the monkey had never existed in the first place.

But he couldn't quite be upset about the loss. He hadn't actually thought about the monkey in a good long time. If it had been present, he wasn't sure what he would have done about that. He'd learned long ago that he couldn't cure it of it's strange problem, which defeated the desire to do anything else to it. He'd run every test on it imaginable and some he'd invented at the spur of the moment. So the monkey's absence was not felt but for a very brief moment.

The hospital was, as he expected, still pretty much the same. The clockwork of people getting harmed or sick and being fixed here was still in effect. He was still named the head of diagnostics. Still listed as a possible surgeon. There were other things that Hannibal wanted to devote his time to, but he supposed that he could do those on his own time. Learning more about psychiatry, the soft science, was on top of that list. He'd done minor things since he'd been in the City, but he wanted more. Then there was the forensic anthropology. A science he'd begun to learn from Dr Brennan. He didn't suppose that she was around still, so he'd have to find another avenue for that. Or wait for her to come back, perhaps.

There was nothing pressing on his desk at all, so he sat in his supple leather chair and turned it to face the window. The world outside was bright today. Filled with sun. The temperature was mild, he knew from his walk over. It was, indeed a perfect day. For Hannibal, reliving the events of his ... entertainments with Baba Yaga, the day was made all that much better. He was deep in thought when the knock on his door came. He motioned with his right hand for the knocker to enter, but didn't turn.