The Universe's Mixer

Matt sat back against the hard wood of the chair, swiveling slightly on the mechanism to face his client some. Eddie whispered something in to his ear, a quip of some sort that Matt found distasteful and wrong. But Matt smiled anyway, albeit small and tight-lipped, offering a bit of encouragement to his client.

It seemed the entire courtroom was holding their breath as they waited for the verdict. All of the facts had been given for and against Eddie, the witnesses had been summoned and examined and the scenarios offered.

Matt had made the closing arguments to the jury and then the panel left to deliberate.

Some where behind him, Matt knew Rose sat. Her presence gave him confidence. He would need her support more than ever after the jury deliberated and came to a conclusion.

It took only an hour before the jury was back. The foreman stood, lifting the folded paper at which their decision lay.

Eddie leaned forward in his seat, primed with anticipation. Matt continued to sit settled against his chair.

"We the jury..." the woman breathed. She licked over her lips and her fingers trembled as she held up the paper "...find the defendant Edward Nashton not guilty of kidnapping and aggravated assault."

Matt emitted a breath.

Edward flashed a wicked smile and clapped Matt on the shoulder. The gavel hit the desk and the Judge dismissed the case and everyone in the courtroom.

Feeling like he was floating, Matt found himself standing on the steps of the courthouse. Somewhere in the distance Matt felt a pair of lips on his cheek; he knew the Nashton girl had kissed him. He felt outside of his own body and that brought him back a little.

The lawyer offered the girl a small, patient smile and a nod before he turned to look for Rose.

Edward beamed for a moment, proud, before narrowing his eyes in pain at the smack upside the head he had received from his husband. "Ow!" Eddie grunted, rubbing the side of his skull where Jonathan had hit him. But he was teeming with love and his long arms went around the thin frame of the man he loved.

It was over. Eddie was free and no charges were brought. Matt was far too good at his job, and Edward would make sure to compensate the man accordingly for it.

Hannibal had gone by the physical store for the pastry shop after leaving The Imbolc to see about the actual store hours. He wanted to time it so that he would be the only one in the store when he had his discussion with Dee. He knew that it would have to be after the breakfast rush of those wanting something on the way to work, but well before any random passers-by might catch the scent of scones and other pastries and be drawn in for a sample.

There was also the need to make sure that there wouldn't be anyone else working behind the counter. He didn't think that he would get honest answers if she thought they could be overheard. As it was, he couldn't be positive that she would be forthright with her knowledge. It had been clear to him that she'd known him, how much, what tidbits, how she'd come by that information, all of these were things that he wanted to know.

He watched the store for a bit before crossing the street and heading inside. He'd seen no other movement but that head of black hair, obviously busy at her daily tasks. His watch, quickly checked, told him that he had at least a half an hour of potential lull before the streets became animated. Then the risk would go up substantially. There was no plan to do her any harm, just ask what he wanted to ask. The risk lay in somebody interrupting. Of her not being willing to be alone with him a second time so that he could continue his line of query. Hannibal had no doubt that the surprise of him on this occasion would not be a happy one.

The door opened easily, and Hannibal stood just inside of it, taking in the atmosphere. He even closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the pleasant smells of freshly baked pastries.

There was a cocky sureness to Hannibal's walk, and had been since the day that he had convinced Erik there was something to live for. The plan had been executed perfectly, Mag had played her part better than Hannibal had hoped. He was quite glad that he hadn't needed to kill her for her failure. She was, after all, a brilliant soprano. As an added incentive, Hannibal had left Erik's violin on the bed in the chamber he chose, where it would not be overlooked. Knowing that having a second thing - something a bit more tangible than song - to hold on to would only do the Phantom well.

He'd left his older self alone for a few days, granting the man time to adjust to the new surroundings and explore with his own eyes. Knowing that experience brought learning to its resolution faster, and knowing that he, himself, would not want another hovering over him the entire time.

The agreement had been made that his elder would remain at the flat of Lady Murasaki. It seemed only right. He could not ask for other arrangements to be made. The City had put the flat there, and while Hannibal had staunchly refused to live in it for varying reasons, he saw no reason for it to continue being unoccupied and collecting proverbial - not literal, as the City seemed to keep it sparkling clean always - dust.

But today, elated, Hannibal wished to make the introduction of the other to the Opera House. He did not know if there would be a spot for two Lecters within the staff, but attendance for various events would be a personal requirement, and he would have felt bad if he'd left the other to make this particular discovery on his own.

He picked a day when he knew none would be within, and brought Hannibal through the doors with a flourish. He walked until they could see the stage, and the piano sitting upon it. Hannibal liked to practice here, where the sound was not only the best, but the placement meant his ear would not be obstructed by annoyingly muted practice space walls.

"And here it is." He said, with great pride. "But please, do continue what you were saying. The City saw fit to bring your office here, and attached it to the flat?"

The folio with Erik's latest was in his hand, and when they reached the piano, Hannibal set it down in its rightful place, though did not sit on the bench. It felt like it'd been far too long since he'd last stood on this spot, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the smells. Perfumes, flowers, colognes, the sweat of dancers, brass polish, resin... so much.

The water of the Kattegat was cold and dark, pulling Siggy down. The chill set into the marrow of her bones, so cold that she could no longer feel it. She nearly felt warm. She saw a light play through the dark water, dancing in front of her open eyes, and felt the bottom of the sea beneath her feet. Is it so soon? she thought. I thought that it would take longer to sink, that drowning would take longer than this.

But she stood as her feet touched the mud, breaking through the surface, shivering in water no deeper than her hips. There was no ice. She coughed once, twice, gasping for air in shock. Her long hair tangled about her face, and her blue linen dress clung to her. She stood in a place greener by far than she'd expected to see. This was not Kattegat, nor did it look like Hel. Was this Fólkvangr? Had Frejya deemed her death worthy of notice?

Siggy stumbled out of the pond, for a pond it was, and sat trembling on the banks. There were no others here, neither to ask nor to see her in such a state, so she allowed herself the time to sit and collect herself. Thyri was not here. Her beloved children were not here. Had they gone ahead?

She felt her heart beat in her chest, fast and harsh, and still she felt herself trembling though the air was warm. She still felt the chill of Kattegat in her bones. After long minutes of staring at the pond, she stood up, wrung out her hair and dress as best she could, and began to walk.