The Universe's Mixer

Hannibal had no idea how River felt about this new way of the City, but he had discovered something and wanted to share it with her. He thought that it would make her smile and it could also be something that they would share for a long while though his vast and very capable memory. They could build a room of their own in his Mind Palace, visit it whenever they wanted.

First things first, he had to find her.

He decided that this time, he would just go to her apartment and wait, instead of trying other locations and leaving them. She would have to be back here eventually. He didn't even go inside, but sat on the stoop. That way he could grab her as soon as she appeared, before she got a chance to say hello to neighbors or decide to go get food before hand.

It didn't penetrate Jensen's brain that there was something different about the City right away. He stopped to get a ginormous cup of coffee and a bag of powdered donuts without the street changing while he was in the shop, but it wasn't until he'd crossed three intersections that he realized nothing had changed randomly. Period. At all. When it finally did sink in he stopped in place to look around...it might have been better if he hadn't stopped in the middle of the road, but he knew the cars with the blaring horns would swerve around him.

"....whoa.."

That was when he decided to test this out. He pulled up a City map on the laptop he was carrying, plotted out a route to the City library then implemented it. When he got to his destination without having to replot his course even once he stood looking at the stairs to the entrance and burst out laughing.

"This is so awesome!"

He was out of coffee. OH DEAR GOD HE WAS OUT OF COFFEE! This was a national emergency...if the City could be called a nation. Was it? It existed on its own so far as Jensen could tell so maybe it was a nation unto itself. But if that was true why elect a mayor? Why not a president or prime minister? If it wasn't its own country then to what nation did the City hold allegiance?

These thoughts ran at a rabbit's pace through his head as he made his way down the street to find a nearby store that would supply him with coffee both immediate and a bag or seven of ground beans for his lab. They really didn't want to see what would happen if he didn't have his stimulant.

It was quite a thing to come home to something so sweet.

River hadn't seen Hannibal in quite some time. It just hadn't worked out, beyond a quick hello. She didn't expect flowers, or a poem, or anything. She had missed him, though. Especially with Simon gone.

She'd killed someone.

Harry was trying to help her learn to control her...

So much had changed.

River smiled broadly, picking the flowers up in her arms and smelling them. She rushed to put them in water, resolved to go find Hannibal. The City might be smart, but it was not smarter than River Tam. She could find him.

She was back out the door in a flash, listening for his mind. If Hannibal did not want to be found, he would not be. But River could at least get an idea of where he was and what he was doing.

Once she had it, she half-bounced down the stairs in her building to the front door, then out it. It wasn't that late yet. There was still some light in the sky.

She knew where the park should be, and went toward it, running, boots covering immense amounts of sidewalk. Dark hair flew out behind her. River wasn't running just to get to see Hannibal faster, but because she thought that The City would move the park to keep them apart. She was trying to outrun it.

The park didn't move, much. Two blocks. And River sighed out her breath, pushing her hair out of her face, and continuing at a normal pace into it.

She found him easily enough, standing there, watching the now-setting sun. It was a nice spot, part-garden, with a few benches. River hadn't realized exactly how much she'd missed Hannibal until he was standing there, not busy, not without time to talk to her.

Without saying anything, she walked over to him and took his hand.

While Harry Dresden was certainly good for River, he wasn't a replacement for Simon.

River was glad Simon was gone, so that he could have a better life. But that didn't mean there weren't days where she got up and cried because he wasn't there, and because she might never see him again. She'd decided to treat it like a death. That was the most rational way of coping.

So she went to the hospital to claim Simon's things, and pack up whatever he'd left. She could give the relevant medical things to Hannibal, and save whatever needed saving.

His name plate was still on his door. River touched it and smiled, and had a hospital staff member let her into his office.

She spent an hour moving papers around into piles before someone else showed up. River looked up, hair half in her face, at the person that'd arrived, the person who was watching. The corners of her mouth went up in a very small smile.

"Hello," she said.

Taking his dog for a walk, Harry decided, was a nice, normal activity. He needed normal right now. After that adventure at Arkham, he didn't want to think about the repercussions, about the Joker's fate, or about the fragile mind of the boy they had fought to recover. He wasn't home safe yet, not by any means, but the part Harry could help with was over. The rest would have to be between Jake and Dinah.

Murphy wasn't around when he got up. After a quick lunch of Spagettios and a sandwich, Harry found Mouse waiting at the front door, lead in his mouth. "Alright," Harry said, letting himself laugh. "Wherever you want to go, Dogzilla."

Alright, maybe he wasn't taking Mouse for a walk as much as Mouse was taking him for a walk.

They ended up at the park. It had been a while since Harry had been there, but he found a tennis ball in his pocket and tossed it for Mouse. The big dog went after it, and it seemed like it would be ( a nice, normal day after all. )

After leaving the garden, the effect Ivy had lingered with River.

She felt strange. Strange was the correct word, and she knew that, even with her clouded head. But she also liked Ivy. And she wanted to make her happy. And she agreed with her basic principles-- Earth that Was needed to be better taken care of. It could never be so well taken care of that River's reality, the future, never took place, but there was no reason to allow trash to collect on the ground, either.

She was halfway home when she encountered a middle-aged man in white coveralls and a hat. There was a notice, nailed to a tree. The tree was going to be cut down. The man had a truck that made a lot of noise. The notice said this was happening today.

River scowled. All reason left her, and Ivy's influence pushed her over the edge.

"Stop."

She said it as a command, not a request. The man in the coveralls said he couldn't, the tree had to be removed to make room for the building expansion behind it. Said he was sorry. River tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed, hearing the words and not at all liking them. Her bag of dance shoes and clothes was carefully set aside like a precious jewel. Dark eyes lighted on the nametag on the man in the coveralls.

His name was Rick.

River kicked Rick, first in the neck, knocking the wind from him, then in the stomach, until he doubled over. Rick did not fight back, just put his hands up and blinked a lot, hoping the psychotic little girl would leave him alone.

She did not.

When River finally left Rick alone, he was not breathing. Her knuckles were covered both in her blood and in his. And in the back of her mind, River wished she'd had a knife, or something that would have...

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was there.

Jake had discovered a newfound affinity for noodles. (Especially noodles combined with some kind of fish in a milky sauce.) Hence why he was trying out the Chinese restaurant that had mysteriously appeared at the corner of the park as he was walking home. The waitresses were very pleasant and didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that a cat was treating himself to shrimp low mein (with a side of Half&Half creamer for a beverage.)

Spread out across the table were blueprint plans of his ship. Yes, he was still trying to determine if he could make his ship fly again. Of course, he wasn't so naive as to think that it was broken. Certainly there was something that The City was doing itself to prevent his ship from breaking atmosphere and flying off into space. But he was curious about the particle physics and quantum theories surrounding space travel. Perhaps he could find some sort of gap in The City's hold on his ship? Maybe he could find some kind of loophole that would allow him to escape?

Not that he wanted to escape entirely. He did enjoy The City. But he wanted to know that he could leave. He wanted to know that one day he would be reunited with his people or with his old friends. And, of course, he would take Lucy-Belle with him. Provided that she wanted to go. But he couldn't imagine her not wanting to go. She had friends and family back on Earth, after all. And even though the two of them had each other now, she might still be lonely for her companions.

On a scratch piece of paper, a hovering pencil drew out some formulas. Jake's collar glowed as the pencil wrote across the length of the paper. He had considerably nice handwriting for a telekinetic cat. Some of the algorithms were in his own language, but anyone with knowledge and experience in mathematics would be able to see what he was trying to do.

It was a science thing.

Mmm, creamer. Slurp, slurp.

Ivy's ventures out into the City had certainly turned up some interesting meetings. She apparently had more enemies to contend with, and even some familiar enemies. It didn't bother her all that much, however. She'd faced the Canary before, and even the whispered rumors of the Batman didn't phase her.

This City was in dire need of care, and Ivy seemed the only one who cared enough to give that. Charlie certainly had potential, but she would have to see him again and see if she could motivate him to help with her cause.

Today, Ivy was staying a little closer to the new home that she'd claimed. She'd ventured out of the garden in the middle of the park and was instead tending to some of the trees on the outskirts. They were mired with litter and cigarette butts. Her eyes narrowed at each blight on what might have been a picture perfect landscape.

They would pay for this. She would find ways to make the citizens of this poor excuse for a habitat sorry that they had ever turned their backs on Mother Nature.

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.

River eyed the piece of paper cautiously.

The instructions were too complex, she thought. This would be an easy thing to do.

Eyebrow arched, standing in the women's lounge outside the bathroom, bent over a counter, River made the last fold. The thing was complete.

It was an origami version of Serenity. River smiled at it.

The instructions urged her to think of what she truly wanted. Looking at the ship, thinking of how things had been with her brother, River wished.

Silently, in Mandarin.

She smiled.

_______________

Later that day, April Fool's Day, River went to the hospital, hoping to grab Hannibal for lunch. She was cheerful, and she couldn't really explain why. She just felt... better. She grinned as she opened the doorway to the hallway that held Hannibal's office, hitting it with both arms out so it swung.

Please continue your ball threads here

With everything in full swing, the waiters and waitresses were moving about people like ants. Able to sneak between groupings without bothering anybody, constantly in motion, trays balanced perfectly on one hand. As if they were in a choreographed number.

The sounds of chatter could be heard in the room, above the clinking of crystal glasses and silverware, adding a strangely calming ambiance to the whole scene. The music played on, as if the band would never tire.

Here and there, party favors were being activated, used, sometimes confusing their recipients, other times bringing great joy.

The invitations started raining on The City's citizens at half past 11 on the morning of March 31st. In standard City style, the things were addressed to each person specifically -- and nigh unavoidable. Dressed in black curlicues and elegant script, the parchment invitations heralded the black-tie Magical Springtime Masquerade, where wishes would be granted -- for that very night, 7:00 sharp. No R.S.V.P. necessary, it promised, and fine script at the bottom also advised that the City had taken the liberty of stocking the wardrobes of its citizens with masquerade-appropriate fineries, gratis. From all appearances, it looked like the City was ready to host a grand affair.

And grand indeed it was. Just a block north of the Clock Tower, the City Opera House threw open its doors at exactly 7 p.m. Red carpet rolled down the grand marble steps. Warm candlelight beckoned with gentle, clinging fingers to those in the chilly spring night air, and the merry tinkling of crystal glasses and laughter from the Grand Foyer welcomed with warmth in even greater degrees.

As guests arrived, tuxedoed gentlemen stationed at the doors accepted invitations with one hand and passed host gifts with the other. Each host gift, elegantly tucked away in a bag emblazoned with the guest's name, included two items: the first was either a masque, a ring, or a hat matching the attire of the guest, and the second was a small box without seams, hinges, locks or opening of any sort. Everyone seemed to have received this second gift, and everyone also received the same note attached to it: "For your enjoyment between 12:01 a.m. and 11:59 p.m. April 1st"

The night was full and bright, and there was plenty of time yet to ponder the mysteries of that small gift box. For now, the party began in full force, with plenty of wine, music, and merriment. And as the guests began to don their party favors, each discovered something else...

Yes, it was going to be an excellent party indeed!

Logan approached Veronica's apartment building with caution, halfway expecting it to jump out of the way on him. He still hadn't quite wrapped his head around how the City worked or the fact that he seemed to keep forgetting where things were. He would think a restaurant, say, was on one street and then be completely unable to find it until he would run into it halfway across town.

None of it fit, and adding to that confusion were the now-healing puncture wounds on his neck and the strange woman in the park. He'd thought about things more, and it didn't quite make sense that Veronica would set up a 'temptation scenario' when they'd just gotten back together. Then again, he knew that Veronica's trust issues ran deep and perhaps... Logan sighed as he felt his mind pulled into the circular reasoning yet again. Something about 'Red' was off, and more than just someone playing a part.

The best way to find out what had happened with Red and most likely even get some ideas about what might have caused puncture marks on his neck without his remembering anything was to just suck it up and ask Veronica.

So, he stood outside the door to her apartment, pondering over the buzzer system. His eyes found the button for 'V. Mars' almost instantaneously, but he couldn't quite bring himself to push it. Visiting her unannounced was intimidating in itself, but doing so when he was weighed down with questions that he wasn't sure he wanted the answers for was even worse.

Dean had finally given in and found some place to sleep. It was out by the Park, some rundown house with a couch that didn't look to be infested with lice and vermin. It was a roof over his head and a floor under his feet. Or that had been the plan.

Unfortunately, as he was finally getting some personal time watching his favorite pair of exotic dancers bat playfully at each other with pillows, he was woken up by the world collapsing. Or in his case, the far wall being knocked in by what looked like a very large chicken leg. Even if he felt like he was still in a dream, he got to his feet, pulled his Colt, and thought of firing. Then he got a better idea, as the damn thing was trying to claw its way into the house; he got out of there.

( What he saw when he got outside didn't help clear anything up. )

"Well, well, well. It looks like someone's getting out a little earlier than expected. Looks like you've been exonerated." The words were familiar. Charlie had heard them before, but he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong to be locked away for this time. When his mind was clear enough to think it through, he always came back to the feeling he'd done nothing.

"Com'on, or I really will beat you like a redheaded step child." The orderly gave a firm kick to the detective's stomach, and thankfully even drugs couldn't muddle his brain so much that he couldn't protect himself. He wasn't so fast that he could get out of the way, but he knew to go with the kick. He'd feel it for a few days, but he'd live.

Charlie got up, put on the clothes (a tailored suit and shirt with matching tie and a very swanky pair of shoes, even a pair of designer sunglasses) they gave him, and walked slowly wherever they directed him. He signed the release forms and collected the rest of his things; other than the clothes, this was all very familiar, even the walk to the cab waiting for him.

Last time he was released, he'd been hungry. The kick to the breadbasket had decreased his appetite, but he told the cabdriver to take him to a small place that always had fresh fruit. While he might not be hungry, he knew he would be eventually. Fruit seemed like just the thing to get and possibly a fish. A living one, not to be eaten. Possibly a dog, a large one for Ted. Or a horse.

It wasn't until he got out of the cab, paying the driver with the money he knew would be in his pocket, that Charlie realized who Ted was. He turned to get back in the cab, but it was gone. Charlie knew that if he got out, Ted would get out or already was. Charlie, for once, wasn't sure what to do. The drugs made it hard to concentrate but easy to go with the flow and not try to work against the flow. Charlie had to believe that he would see Ted soon; he'd get his housemate fruit to prove as much.

"Hey, so how was your weekend?"

River kept her eyes shut, even though she knew they'd made some kind of mistake. That, or--also a possibility--she'd developed an immunity to one of the drugs they were giving her. Two orderlies were in here, moving her around so she could get washed up. They would undo her restraints, stand her up, give her a quick shower, and put her back the way she was, complete with the needles in her arm.

The orderly who was being asked about his weekend wasn't going to tell the one doing the asking that he'd spent the weekend getting stoned, and was still baked when he'd come to work this morning. River knew, then, that he'd screwed up her dosage. What would happen would be his fault.

"Oh, it was cool," the guy said. "Y'know. Hung out. What did you do?"

The second orderly undid the restraint that held her legs, then lifted her off of the gurney. River let her head loll to one side.

"Me and the wife went down to the museum with the kids," the other answered. "There's some dinosaur exhibit going on they've been begging me to see. Wasn't too bad."

She didn't open her eyes, she just listened. The shower started and she could feel the water, and the stoner orderly holding her up by the arms. They kept chattering, and River progressively took more of her weight on herself, until she was standing on her own.

She sighed loudly, and opened her eyes. The two men looked a little stunned.

"I'm sorry," she said, meaning it. Then she knocked their heads together and watched them fall into an unconscious ball on the floor. She knew she had only minutes before someone realized what was going on, so she grabbed a hospital gown from the chair, wrapped it around herself, tied it, and ran.

An alarm went off when she hit the stairwell to leave the floor.

A bulky orderly was waiting at the door of the floor two below, and River kicked him hard, then hit him with the heel of her hand. She kept running, mumbling under her breath about the number of steps from her point of origin, and how far it might be to the door...

When she saw someone coming, she hid, climbing up into the ceiling and holding onto the sprinkler.

She waited.

It was dark, and then it was bright.

River was scared, when she was capable of fright. She was enraged all of the time.

Her room was not big. It didn't need to be, because she was too dangerous not to be kept in restraints. They'd known that when they came to take her. River could remember parts of that, the taking. She'd been leaving rehearsal, her ballet bag on her shoulder. A van had pulled up, men had gotten out. One of them shot her with a dart, and the dart hit her neck. After that, everything was fuzzy. River didn't blame herself, however. The man was blank. There was something wrong with the man.

And that part didn't matter so much now, anyway.

The light on the ceiling was very bright when it was on, and River knew the drugs she was on made it seem brighter.

She knew, from a doctor, a doctor that came in and measured her heartbeats, measured her brainwaves, stuck needles into her arm and into her temples, made her scream, that she'd come into this room limp and doll-like. Orderlies had removed her clothes and left her thermal strips of fabric were strategically placed across her chest and abdomen, covering the relevant areas. She'd been placed on a slab, something like a gurney, and restraints slapped on her wrists and ankles, then her hips and shoulders, and one on her head. The one on her head was bolted to the floor and made of metal. It felt to River like a cold helmet.

It had sensors in it. They were mapping her brain activity. Simon had tried this a few times, with better equipment.

She'd woken up after her arrival already strapped down, already mostly naked, laying there in the dark. She could hear a pen scratching. When the light went on, River glared at the note scribbler. Two needles went into her arm at different points and River yelled. Her veins felt like ice, then fire, and then finally River couldn't think much anymore. Her brain felt like.. like it had before she met John Coffey. River knew this wasn't permanent, and that the doctors here did this to be sure she couldn't hurt them.

Because they used words like lethal when they described her. Weapon. Brilliant. Amazing. Dangerous.

They never let her off of the gurney fully conscious. The cocktail of drugs would be allowed to wain until she could stand on her own, weakly. Then two orderlies would undo the restraints, beginning with her head, stand her up, wash her, reclothe her, and put her back. There was a drain in the floor for the water and a shower nozzle on the far wall. She never left the room.

River didn't eat anything that didn't go through an IV into her arm. She knew the contents were high in sugar and that they meant to keep her weak.

Because when the lights went off...

... they tried everything they could to trigger her.

There were two doctors behind a glass panel. River could see the panel at her feet, like a window to a better world. She could see them conferring, nodding. Flashes of things would come to her, from them.... the posters hung around the City were things they knew to trigger her. River considered the word 'trigger' and struggled to keep coherent.

They would never stop picking.

One of the two doctors vanished from behind the glass, and River heard the door swing inward. She heard talk of her charts, of her cerebral cortex, of stimulating different parts of the brain until they got the right combination...

The doctor wore blue latex gloves.

River moved her mouth to say "hands of blue." No words came out.

She closed her eyes as a needle went into her neck and the lights went out. Behind her closed eyes, River could see Serenity. She could see Hannibal smiling at her. See Simon.

"Write that response down," the doctor said.

There were a few things that Jeannie took a great deal of pride in. At the top of her list was that when she had a master that treated her well, she returned the favor a thousand fold. She did her very best to make their lives comfortable, fulfilling, and most importantly, fun. But each master had their own idea of what that meant, and she needed to mold them slowly until they had a good time ( in spite of themselves. )

Ratso didn't open his eyes until the bus came to a stop. He felt like shit. Felt like shit and smelled like piss. But that was mostly because he'd made an unscheduled rest stop about three hours ago before he hit the Florida state line. Joe had been a pal, a real pal, and gotten him a change of clothes so he wouldn't look like the homeless cripple that just pissed all over his bus seat. Even though that was the goddamn truth. The bus stopped with a lurching motion that jerked Ratso out of his sleep. Boy, what a sleep. A deep sleep if ever there was one. He was sleeping so hard he thought he might have been fuckin' dead. But he wasn't dead. He wasn't dead and he didn't feel as bad as he had back at the "rest stop." He still felt like shit, like his bowels might erupt at any minute, like his teeth might fall out, like his brains might start leaking through his eyeballs -- but he thought he might be able to walk. Fuck yeah, he might be able to walk!

He made a snorting snicker which was immediately followed by a violent hacking cough.

"Ha, ha! Hey, Joe! We in Florida now, Joe? Musta fuckin' missed. Musta. Slept like I was fuckin' dead, Joe. Betcha thought I was dead, huh? Ain't that right, Joe? ... Joe?"

Ratso glanced beside him at the empty seat.

"Hey, where'd ya go, Joe?"
( It was then that he realized the entire bus was empty. )