The Universe's Mixer

They had gals. They had jobs. They had money and lives. It seemed that they were set.

Charlie wondered if they were. If they were truly set.

Rather than keep wondering, the City detective left a message for his housemate join him for some dinner. They hadn't talked much lately, and he wanted to revisit how life was going, where it was going. He wanted to know that Ted was doing well.

Unfortunately, as it was bound to happen, the plans were ruined by a crime. It wasn't a difficult one; Jennifer and Charlie had discovered the truth, solving the case in record time. The butler actually did do it. The case kept Charlie away from one of his longest best friends, and Charlie wished all the other cases that came across the desk he shared with Jennifer were solved as easily and cleanly.

The detective stood in the kitchen and stared into the refrigerator. What did he want for breakfast? Should he see if Ted was around to have the conversation over breakfast instead? Was that milk fresh? What did 42 really mean?

Jack still didn't have any clue as to who had tried to kill Fred. That concerned him and it was getting to the point where he knew she wanted to get out of the hospital. He couldn't blame her, and he was sure that while he'd kept the news reporters out of it, it was no longer a secret that she was alive. He'd known that was a possibility upon telling Dinah, but he couldn't in good faith allow her friends to think she was dead.

Jack knew that he needed to try a different tactic to see if he could keep her safe. So he picked up the phone and dialed one of the few detectives in the City whom he had spoken to personally and who he trusted.

Charlie Crews. He found the number easily and hit the send key. Jack didn't like asking for favors, particularly in his position. But for Fred, he would.

Charlie: Crews. Yes?
Jack: Detective Crews, it’s Jack Heart. I have a favor to ask of you.
Charlie: Mayor Heart. What can I do for you?
Jack: I have something that I’d like you to look into. Someone’s tried to kill a friend of mine. Do you have the time to take on another case?
Charlie: I will see what I can do. I’m working on something, but I can definitely give it a look.
Jack: I’ll fax over the information. Anything you could do would be appreciated.
Charlie: Send it to my phone. Phones do that. Phones can do anything, you can even talk on them. Not talk talk, but talk text talk. Send the info, Mayor.
Jack: Thanks, I’ll do that. She’s important to me, so I appreciate the help.
Charlie: Protect and serve, Mayor Heart. I’ll check on your friend, and see what I can do to help.
Jack: Thanks again.

Jack hung up the phone and used his own phone to pull up the information he had on the case so far and sent it over. He just hoped that Charlie would be able to help.

----

Charlie read over the info; his jaw tightened a little. Someone shot some poor woman and burned her place down? He would look into it while he looked into other things. Someone had just made an enemy. He would find the person, and he would make sure they were punished. Of course, he had a long list of people to punish. A very long list.

Wash was flirting with Beatrice again at a diner he managed to relocate. She was humoring him. The city had made her to look in her mid 50's, robust build and dyed blonde hair frizzled around her like pipe cleaners.

"Rawr. You come back with two pancakes and I'll give you a big tip," he said with a wink. She just rolled her eyes and then shook her head at Wash's whistle.

She might have been a one dimensional character, but it was all Wash could do to distract himself from...himself. This was Wash being a hermit, you see.

He took a long sip of hot black tea and savored the social moment for a while. It gave him temporary happiness. A small jolt to a happiness junkie.

( Charlie had been looking for something to eat... )

Charlie sat at his desk and stared at the files before him. He hadn't told his partner about his meeting with a comic book hero, not yet. It wasn't that he was hiding the information, but it felt odd to come right out and say it. Actually, for the detective, that wasn't overly odd; he just didn't know how to say it without hurting her feelings.

They'd had other cases to look into, and he'd heard from some department somewhere about his partner's data usage. He wasn't aware such things were monitored. He leaned back in his chair and rocked a little. Charlie didn't think Jennifer was keeping something from him; she'd just not mentioned it yet. Then again, they weren't the types to demand to know every little thing about the other's doings. He continued to rock in his chair for a moment before getting out of it.

Moving from chair to fridge then back, he settled down with an apple and a bottle of water. This required some thought, some consideration..some peanut butter. Probably.

The Batman watched this ginger-headed detective for three days and nights, establishing the man's routines and haunts, learning more about the man from his actions than from the facts he and Alfred uncovered about him. The man had been falsely accused, had served years of time for crimes he'd never committed. He'd come out of prison life and re-assimilated himself back into the police force. All these facts buried in the banks of his computer served as an excellent frame of reference -- but to know the man, to know if he could be trusted, to know if he could be used, required far more investigation.

At the end of the third day, when night settled in around the building where Charlie Crews worked, the Batman found himself waiting on the roof for the most of the building to empty, for most of the traffic to die. When it did, he dropped soundlessly onto the fire escape just outside the window closest to the office of the man he'd been surveiling. It took no time to move silently through the hall to the doorway of the office where Charlie Crews worked.

There were no fewer than five places for the Batman to disappear; it's why he chose this particular place to make his first appearance. But now was no time for hiding. Instead, he stepped silently into the office and waited for the man to turn. He was careful to keep his gloved hands open and relaxed at his sides.

Work.

It was the one thing that he could do and fall into without worrying about what other people thought of him. It was normal for people to think that forensics guys were strange, and that anybody specializing in blood was an extra bit off, so Dexter took it in stride. When you could spout off about directional spatter and the differences between a swipe and a wipe, you knew that people were going to stop listening pretty quickly unless it was a part of their job to hear what you were saying. Kids didn't find it entertaining at Parents Day, and it wasn't exactly a thing you could turn into a party trick.

People expected him to be abnormal, but quiet. Dexter could do abnormal but quiet. He could even do professional. Professional was easy, especially when the subject matter was something so close to his heart. Blood didn't always calm him, sometimes it made him more antsy, set him on edge. But it was always, always, something he knew about.

His lab was already set up for him when he went in. Like he'd never left. The officers he passed nodded at him, as if he'd never left. There was mail waiting on his desk, samples sitting at his equipment, and files waiting in a tray, as if he'd never left. Dexter began to wonder if he had, in fact, ever left. Perhaps there had been another him while he'd been gone. Maybe he'd replaced this Other!Dexter. It had happened to Deb, why not him? Maybe he would get scores of people who began to talk to him about the things that they'd done together, and he'd have to inform them that he wasn't the same man. He wondered if that would suck as much from the telling end as it had from the receiving end.

Dexter sat on his stool and began to sort through the mail. He didn't get a lot of mail at work. Forensics Quarterly, The Forensic Examiner, and Forensic Magazine being some of that. As well as second-opinion letters answering queries he'd sent out. They were sometimes required by the courts.

Charlie was a good partner. A very good partner. Oddly enough he'd make this sort of trip even if he and his partner hadn't become so very close. He cared for her, and was more than willing to take on any task she might have. He was up to the challenge. Thankfully, this particular challenge would have a very happy ending...eventually.

Jennifer had said that she needed some things from the store, and realizing he did as well, he'd offered to pick up whatever she might need. She hesitated at first, but the way he just nudged her now and then about it, she finally relented. When he finally got the list, he read over it and then nodded. He'd have it for her that evening when he came over. Yes, sometimes he stayed at her place, so it really wasn't that difficult. Of course, he added a few things to the list that he thought she might appreciate.

He stood in front of the boxes and stared. He wasn't lost in which one to get, so much as thinking about the varieties that were available.

"They don't taste like strawberries." He held one box in his hand, not at all ashamed of how it might sound. "And, do you really need glow in the dark?"

Charlie stood in front of a store, staring into the destroyed glass. His head tilted slightly as if he weren't sure what he was looking at. Actually, he wasn't. Why had homicide been called in? Was he just homicide here? Was he more generalist here?

The jewelry store had been robbed, or at least broken into. He had been called in with his partner to investigate, and he wasn't convinced that this was the best way to spend their time. Of course, they could do the job, and possibly do it well. Yet, they had other cases to solve. He glanced around to see where his partner had gotten off to. He had told her about the strange young woman in the park, and he had placed the question to the agent on whether or not picking flowers was murder or not. Was it the same as picking fruit? He was possibly still waiting on an answer.

"I should call Annie. Annie could talk to the jewelry, see what it saw." It was an idea. He also needed to talk to Annie about the watch. There had been a report of a missing watch that had caught his eye. He needed to see the watch again. He also needed to check on the young woman who'd not had much experience with ice cream.

"We need to watch the security tapes." He finally spoke to a nearby uniformed cop. "Ask if anyone saw anything." Jennifer would probably have more answers.

Christine needed fresh air and really wished to be away from the manor for only that reason. After all, she was happy there, but she could not stay locked up all the time. It would not be good for her. She had to live and take time for herself to just relax and a walk was often the best way to do so. Well, when one had a lot to think about. Plus it kept her body moving and although she had taken to continuing her dancing in a few rooms in the manor, whichever suited for the particular dance, it wouldn't do to only stick with one form of exercise. Or so she had been told.

She left the manor after quickly passing on to those who worked there that she would be back soon and assuring that she did not need the car. Though she knew there was a chance she would get lost since she was still not entirely sure of what there was here and where everything was situated. If she got lost then surely Erik would send the car to find her? Even if that did go against the purpose of walking. She just had to hope that she would find her way around. And the longer Christine relied on the car, the longer that would take.

Soon, Christine found herself at the park. That was certainly a nice place to end up in and she was incredibly eager to spend some time there before leaving. She kept walking, not feeling the strain on her legs at all, until she found a part in the park covered with flowers. Smiling, she knelt and ran a finger along the stem, contemplating picking one.

Charlie wanted a book. Charlie wanted a new/old book. Charlie wanted to take his partner with benefits to get the new/old book. Charlie wanted to see a friend's place of work where he would take his partner with benefits to get the new/old book. Charlie was a very busy man.

The detective had heard Honour say that she worked in a bookstore, or had one. He'd done a little digging around and found a few places that might fit. So, under the ruse - a very poorly built one that would fall should his partner ask the right questions - that he wanted to buy a book and he needed her help, he headed out to find where Honour worked exactly. He wanted to make sure she was working for the right person, doing above the board things. He didn't think she'd mean to do something illegal, but innocents did fall into really bad situations when they were too trusting.

"Bookmark Books. First one on the list. Think we'll be lucky and I'll find the book in there?" He smiled at Jennifer. "Then we can get something to take to the park. There's this really shady spot that I'd like to show you. Poems, fruit, and park. Think that could be nice."

It was fortunate and a moment of relief when Ted discovered himself back in the City. He had had enough of the place he'd been put, and was ready to return to the oddness and moving streets. That he could handle. Apocalypse, he wasn't too gung ho for.

It was unfortunate that he returned without Jo by his side. No way of knowing if she was alright either, other than calling her number, leaving a message and sending a quick text right after. Which he did. Ted knew that in some places where call service didn't work, the short burst of a text would get through. If she wasn't in the City, maybe she could still get it. Of course, if she was back as well, hopefully she'd take it as worry and not him being some crazy stalker.

The only thing he could think to do immediately was to return to Charlie and the horse and the house. He'd learned that he had many things to tell his friend, and he wanted to see if Charlie had gone to the other place, too.

Ted found the door unlocked - as usual - and immediately headed up the stairs.

"Yes. Yes, I have your information." She said to the person on the other end of the phone. "Yes, I will look into it, I promise. We're all looking into every one of these calls. We're doing what we can. Yes. I understand... I do.... I unders... please stop yelling. Crying isn't really better... I'm sure that there's somebody more equipped to handle your current sta... yes, like a psychiatrist."

When she was finally able to put the phone down, Jennifer got up from her chair behind her desk and leaned out into the hallway.

"STOP FUCKING FORWARDING THOSE CALLS TO ME." She yelled - loudly - down to the reception desk. The anger was present in her voice. She'd told them before that if they actually wanted somebody to start looking into these cases, they couldn't keep sending her the calls. She couldn't do both at once. It was impossible.

There was also the issue that she was worried her partner was one of the ones missing. She hadn't seen him in a day or so. Hadn't heard from him. There was too much going on for him to be gone, though. She needed him to be here. She needed his help, and his way of comforting without actually having to say anything. His brain, she needed that, too. The way he thought, he might see some kind of pattern here that she wasn't.

Jennifer stalked back to her desk and sat down, leaning back a moment, enjoying the peace of the phone not ringing. If she didn't need it for things, she would unplug it right now before another call could come through.

Jennifer had a stack of papers on her desk, files. She was going through them to assemble the best set of information she could. There were a lot of duplicated things here, and a lot of leads that had gone nowhere. She wanted the information that actually had something to do with the case to be easily accessible.

This wasn't just for her and Charlie, either. They'd found a third pair of eyes that would be good on this case. A pair of eyes that apparently knew what to look for on bodies and were used to solving cases that didn't have apparent leads. Jennifer had read what she could about this Dr Brennan without prying into personal things. She had looked up what kind of doctor she was and her case history. It was all very impressive.

She wasn't going to deny Brennan a chance to look at the broken leads, as it might give her ideas of what to look for, but Jennifer wanted them in a different file. This was the biggest thing to happen to the case since they'd found the giant man right before the City had gone still. A real chance at being able to discover little clues that she and Charlie might have missed because neither of them were trained in the way that this doctor was. They didn't know what to look for.

The file was filled with every picture of every scene that she had been able to dig up. Some of them were truly gruesome, but she thought that Brennan could handle it.

She looked at her watch. Where was Charlie, anyway? She had made sure to note the meeting on as many places as she could think of, even sticking reminder notes into his pockets. This was important to her. Not that it wasn't important to him, too. But she'd been so concerned over these murders for so long, she just didn't want any little chance to slip by unused.

Fresh from her escape through the broken window, Beauty all but fled the scene of the bar fight and headed straight for where she last saw the Police station. Jennifer Government, Jennifer Government, she repeated to herself, and as she ran into the upcoming intersection, she stopped long enough to note the cross streets, then added them to her litany of things to be repeated and remembered.

Heart still racing, throat still clogged with fear, she sped onward toward her goal. If she was reading the signs correctly and remembering her way around the City, she had but a few more turns to make. People were staring at this woman running breakneck through the streets -- but she didn't care. She'd left her savior in the middle of a mess, and her savior had asked for her help. Beauty wouldn't stop until she'd gotten Jennifer the help she'd asked for.

At the next corner, she turned -- and there it was, the City Department. She didn't slow as she raced for the steps, for the door.

Charlie wasn't sure what to make of Ted and the current state of smittenness with a ghostbusting young woman, even if "smittenness" wasn't really a word. He wasn't one to run from his problems, not in the most obvious ways anyway, yet he wasn't ready to face the many questions this whole situation could raise. He wasn't even sure if there was a situation to question or face.

He wanted his friend to be happy and find a peace within, but the detective also wanted his friend to do things legally and safely. Yet...

"There are always yets." He smiled at the woman behind the counter. The woman gave him a smile back only because she had no idea what he was talking about and had found that smiling was better than questioning, especially this man. "The fruit tarts look good. I'll have one of each, please."

As soon as he had walked in, she had boxed up one of the apple strudels. Charlie did like this particular shop, even if he attempted to try many shops and many fruity foods.

Fresh from her makeover with Pixie at the helm, Beauty bounded up to the door of the mansion she knew was Charlie's. And Ted's. And the Horse's! Her hair was streaked with pastel multicolors that managed not to clash with the wispy bit of pink and pattern that she liked the most of all the dresses she and her friend selected together. She wasn't completely sure of herself in this new look, but she was determined to try it. She lifted her hand and knocked, pleased with the jangling chiming sound the movement produced. Thin silver, bronze, black and gold bracelets settled back down against the delicate bones of her wrist when she dropped her hand again.

On that arm also hung a basket filled with fruit and croissants. Some of it was for Horse. Some of it was for her and Charlie (and Ted, if he happened to be a fruit eater...or croissant eater). The other arm was occupied with hugging Ted's stickered laptop against her side. She shifted her weight in the chunky platform heels she wore, then stared down at her toes. They'd been painted a candy pink. Wriggling her toes again, she speculated just how women had started the practice of painting their toenails. She would have laughed at the notion, back in Paris.

Then again, she'd never heard of bronzer before, either. Beauty sucked in her cheeks, wrinkled her nose, and stared at the door expectantly. Her lips felt sticky and heavy from the almost-clear, pinky gloss. The test, she thought, was how other people would react to what she looked like. If no one gasped, she was going to count it as a success.

Beauty realized she was a little nervous about how Ted and Charlie would react to her new look, under the buzzy excitement she'd felt with Megan. She shifted her weight again. Lifted a foot. Set it down carefully again. Platform shoes. She was getting used to them.

Charlie was on his own for the evening, and that could mean any number of things. This particular evening meant checking out a bar he'd heard about. Supposedly there was karaoke and fortune telling. He wasn't sure he needed his fortune told, nor was he all that sure he wanted to sing; but, he was curious. He gave in to curiosity and hoped he wasn't the cat in the box with the possible poisonous gas. Dead, yet not dead. That was a thinker.

He stepped into Caritas, his badge in a pocket not out to be seen, just always there. His off-duty piece stored at his hip under a light jacket. The blade was stored in his pocket. He didn't plan on doing anything with them, but he didn't go anywhere without any of it. He also was curious to see how a certain riotous type was doing. He knew Logan Echolls worked here; he wanted to know if the kid was still working and doing well. He knew this could end badly, but he wanted to know all the same.

The detective headed slowly toward the bar, pausing when he thought he saw someone with a horn? He knew some people liked putting things under their skin to give themselves an interesting profile. Everyone had control, for the most part, of his or her own body; if they wanted to augment, it was their choice, wasn't it? Even if he always thought that extreme augmentation was...extreme. Charlie wasn't much for extremes.

The City Hall was chosen because it held a room within it that was big enough to accommodate the droves of people that were sure to come. Plus, being inside space, there were no worries over weather that couldn't be controlled. The people could sit and listen and not have to try to hear past traffic or wind.

Even with the late notice, everything was done well before the scheduled start time, which Thomas was proud of. He was glad that the ones who were born here weren't entirely useless without him around. They were keeping their heads together, doing what needed to be done. Of course, it also could have been the fact that they believed Thomas was who he claimed to be, and with his presence there with them, they felt better about the situation they were currently in.

Thomas looked at the stage. That's where he would be standing, talking to the people he had brought here. He had no doubts that they would be the ones with the questions, the ones who demanded answers. He was ready. He could do this.

He sat in a seat hidden by a curtain, where he could still see the stage and the rows of chairs beyond, and waited.

Jennifer had been very bothered by what the City had done now. With her past dealings with it, she knew something was up, but couldn't figure it out. Her cop instinct also told her that something was very wrong, but again, she couldn't wrap her mind around it. It made her a little angry. Angry at the City, angry at herself.

Then, on top of it, the murders had started again. So there'd only been one, but it was absolutely the same suspect as it had been before. There were too many similar things. There was also a lot that was different, worse. So much worse. Jennifer hadn't seen anything so gruesome in a very long time. Time had been taken. Time and care. She felt there had been much suffering. She felt it was her fault, because she'd given up the case when the trail had gotten cold. If she'd just kept at it, maybe this person, this Arkham employee, wouldn't have died.

Frustrated, Jennifer pushed the papers forward off of her desk. She didn't care where they landed, she just wanted them the hell away from her.

And she wanted to call Dean. She hadn't seen him since the change in the streets. She felt like she could use a very good tumble.

While much of the City struggled to adjust to the sudden normalcy of the place, Beauty found returning to a simpler life downright refreshing. It was made easier, of course, by the fact that she was wealthier than she'd been since... since her father's failing business sent them into the countryside to make a more rustic living, she realized. Beauty had hardly cared for the money she was earning from her job at the bookstore. The City, she had to admit, did a very fine job of taking care of her needs, which were few. The bookstore... She'd been there for love, nothing more. Even now, she would prefer being curled up in the back room, examining the newest shipment of books before she shelved them.

But with the City no longer providing for her daily meals, the supply of food in her cottage diminishing, she was very grateful to have the time to go shopping for the necessities. That's what led her out onto Market Street on this sunny, brisk mid-morning, all bundled in a wool coat and scarf and mittens, basket looped around one arm. The wind was a little sharp, but as she hurried toward the closest fruit stand, she wrapped the length of her hair twice around her palm, then tucked the twist under the collar of her coat. There -- that was much better!

And she had to say, as she examined the loads of fresh fruit in crates before her, the City certainly sourced from fine orchards! Picking out a couple gleaming red apples and setting them in her basket, she turned toward a crate of pears. These looked nice, too! But what were these yellow, strangely shaped fruits? She picked one up gingerly and turned it in her hand. When one looked down the back of it, it looked like a starburst. How... strange... What was it?