The Universe's Mixer

Amy Pond brewed her own trouble.

While the Doctor busied himself being Doctor-y, Amy decided to explore. Vampire Bars had only been the start. The City had plenty more to offer. There had been the library, but Amy found it much quicker to interrogate the librarians than to read the books themselves. A short skirt, a winning smile and there was no telling what a poor civil servant might research for you.

There were a few places that always existed since the history of The City. Although the history didn't make much sense Amy decided the places that had always existed might be important in some way. There'd been the museum, the botanical gardens. She finally settled on the hospital.

As a former kissogram, Amy had no qualms about dressing up in costumes. As a troublesome redhead she had no qualms about taking someone's lab coat. She also put a stethoscope over her shoulders just for good measure. With the heels, the pencil skirt and low cut blouse, Amy Pond was ready to snoop where she didn't belong.

From one of the nurse's stations she grabbed a clip board. There was nothing important on it, as far as Amy could tell, just some sort of medical release permission form that most patients were required to fill out. Holding the clip board, however, gave Amy an air of authority, provided that she hide what was on the clip board.

She opened doors, looked through windows, and even went through empty doctor's offices. Anything that wasn't locked or bolted down was examined. So far? Nothing. So Amy helped herself into the next room, a laboratory with impressive looking equipment. It was new, spotless and a bit sparse.

"Ooh. What do we have here?"

Help yourself, Amy Pond.

There were more crimes and not enough law enforcement types to go around. The murders weren't escalating, and they weren't being solved. The detective didn't like what he was dealing, but the cops dealt with the unpleasant on a regular basis. It was his job.

Charlie Crews tried to let go of the unpleasant; he needed to make a difference, to make the world better. He dealt with the unpleasant, so that others didn't have to. Not that zen was all about the pleasant; it was dealing with life in a different way, seeing beyond life to the truth. It was releasing the world to find something true, real, wisdom.

He settled down at the table with the bowl of fruit he'd just picked from the orchard. He smiled with a little pride, claiming one of the apples from the bowl. He couldn't say he owned the orchard, or even the fruit. He could and would say he appreciated the fruit. For the moment, he'd let himself appreciate how the fruit looked, how it felt, how it existed. It wasn't exactly meditation, just something very like.

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.