The Universe's Mixer

The City was going to pay. Baba didn't care why or how it happened, but she had not liked being dumped out of her house, her own cabin, the bane of her existence, tumbled her right out onto the ground as if it were spitting out some food it wouldn't have in its mouth. It had taken her a day or two to get back to feeling "normal," and once she felt normal, she wrecked a little havoc. Nothing grand scale, no, she had a plan for the City.

For her small revenge, she'd placed a few of the asylum workers, those who had abused the patients, on paths that they weren't coming back from. They were all going to die, but she added a little something to it. What she and Hannibal had done was going to be repeated, only this time it would be the workers taking it out on their loved ones, "innocents." The murders wouldn't be as clean, as precise, and they wouldn't be half as creative, seeing as they'd all be ridiculous copies. But, they'd all have small aspects linking them to that original crime. Three workers over the month would kill their spouses or girlfriends. Three was a small number, but the cops needed something to keep them busy, didn't they?

So, it was nearly a month later that a small woman in a spring dress that was much too bright, soft, innocent for the woman she truly was and the place she was walking into. She ignored servers and those few of the City's children who'd started taking an interest in vampires; somehow the City had managed a few of the Viking's vampires. Well, at least he would have someone to rule.

Baba Yaga settled at the bar, and waited.

Something was wrong.

River sat in her apartment, eyebrows furrowed, feeling... lost. Something was missing, something important.

After the wish, after the masquerade, River had felt somewhat strange. She didn't remember much of her actual wish. She knew she'd seen Simon, but she couldn't remember the details.

Like they hadn't mattered.

And she had not seen Simon since.

Then, all at once, she knew what was really wrong. And she began to cry, quietly at first, then louder and into sobs.

There were people and entities she would overhear, routinely. People she was close to, without really meaning to. Lestat. Hannibal. The Ballet Master. Simon. She could feel them, knew they were there, or working, or nearby. One was missing--not hurt, not shutting her out, just... missing.

River covered her mouth with her hand. She had really gotten that wish, after all, hadn't she?

"You're gone."

Then, all at once, the crying stopped. He'd be better off without her, even if she was sad. Simon could have a real life without ever having to worry about her.

River smiled.