The Universe's Mixer

The room was nice. It was almost like the guest room at Alison's, but it was not. Alison's guest room is neat and clean, but this room has been decorated with flowers and stuffed things. Helena likes flowers and stuffed things, but she was instantly wary because this was not Alison's guest room and she does not like surprises.

She found clothes, soft and pretty like the other things in the room, and put them on. She walked out of the room and found a small house, or an apartment. It was an apartment. It was clean and comfortable, and there was food on the counter. Helena immediately went to the food and began to eat, because that is the smart thing to do and the food looked good. As she finished a bunch of grapes, she saw the paper. The writing was not in English. The letters were Cyrillic, and the language was Ukranian. She knew this language. She read the words, then read them again. She crumpled the letter in her hand.

The letter said that her babies are not in her stomach any more. Her babies are safe, but they cannot be here with her right now. Her science babies will be returned when she leaves, whenever that is. The letter was signed, "The City."

The apartment did not feel so nice now. Helena was angry, and if she did not have babies in her stomach then she wanted to drink. She left the apartment without locking it and went to see where she was now that she had no babies and no family.

It was to be today. James had everything in place. After having double-checked his work, he returned to Steve's apartment looking for Ariel - but found only quiet. Believing that she'd gone out to sun or to stroll, he went downstairs and circled the apartment building. Then he did it again. Dismissing the mild unease, he headed back up to wait.

But an hour passed, and she had not returned. The second hour ticked by, and he finally picked up his phone and tried to reach her on it. It wasn't unexpected that she didn't pick up. She never really seemed technologically minded. So he rang Steve instead. The conversation was stilted and harsh, at least on his end. His throat felt tight, and the back of his neck was hot.

He knew.

James knew, but was trying to deny it.

Steve was on his way back. James paced the front of the living room quickly, back and forth, and then shot a text to Dr. Quinn.

Today. That was all he needed to send to her; she'd know the rest. It didn't matter that night hadn't even fallen. And, he realized, it didn't even matter that he hadn't confirmed that Edward Nigma had kidnapped her again. He should have handled this long ago. It shouldn't even be a question.

After today, it wouldn't be.

"Take that back to the bank!" Barbara shouted, knocking one of the darkly dressed criminals to the pavement. She grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes and lifted her foot, putting a yellow boot into the stomach of another one of the group. She was clearly outnumbered, her singular to their ten, but she had fought greater numbers than that. And it wasn't as though the criminal element didn't know she was here. Eddie was on the up and up that she arrived and Babs suspected that he had relayed the information to every con man and criminal in town. They would know to look for the bat symbol of nothing else.

Sending the guy to the ground, Barbara spun in a circle, planting her foot back on to the ground. She raised her fists and looked at the rest of those that remained in the ever closing circle with a grin. "Who's next? You guys aren't very smart, are you? Taking on a poor, defenseless little girl?" It was a tease. Obviously she was more than capable of defending herself.

One of the masked criminals scoffed at Barbara's comment, "You ain't defenseless, but I am going to teach you a lesson in pain that you're never gonna forget!"

Another brandished a billy club, swinging it at the red-head. Instantly Barbara threw an arm up to block, deflecting the swing with her forearm. A cracking noise careened off of the brick walls of the alley and Barbara winced, before swinging her free hand up. She made a fist and punched the man that had struck at her in the face, sending him backward.

Her cape flapped as she swirled around, narrowing her eyes. Her arm was definitely going to bruise.

Gloves fingers worked a collapsible Batarang out of her Utility Belt and she unfolded it, swinging it hard at a couple of the guys. It smacked into one of them but missed the other and went skittering off down the alley. "Dang," Barbara breathed. "Awe, did the little girl lose her toys?" One of the criminals jeered. "Yeah, I did. Didn't you come over to play?" Barbara retorted, kicking the man in the shin.

Edward grinned as he adorned the gauntlet Jonathan had once worn. He strapped the worn buckles into the appropriate slots, pulled the leather tight and flexed his fingers. The syringes attached to the glove wiggled and the toxin within the vials swirled gently. Holding it up so that he could better view the thing, Edward sighed hard. He missed his lover dearly and it was killing him from the inside out. It was easier to cope when he had something to do besides harassing Harley. No, Eddie needed a challenge. Something to do that warranted a bit of retribution.

Those stupid goody-two shoes jerk heroes would get theirs. They would see. They would all see. Edward loathed every single one of them, Stark, Banner, Rogers and his friend with the arm....each one he hated more than the last. Nobody got away with threatening him. Oh no, that was not how the game worked.

The criminal turned to the body of the breathing and unconscious girl laying on the floor of the cell. He wouldn't keep her underground this time, no...he wanted them to find her like this.

A grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland and Eddie knelt down to the girl. He picked up one of her limo arms and dug the ends of the syringes from the gauntlet into her skin. He filled her with fear toxin, a dose far heavier than she needed. Let them come find her and watch Jonathan's legacy unfold. They took one of the people he loved and so he would return the favor. And who better than the stupid little mermaid girl?

Capturing her had been so easy. Like it had been the first time. And now she would never escape. Eddie knew where the antidote was for the toxin. Harley knew too, but Eddie didn't care of she knew. She was too busy gloating and working she didn't have time to betray him. Plus he would kill the meddlesome blonde this time for sure if she snitched.

Emptying the last of the toxin into Ariel's bloodstream, Edward pulled back, dropped her arm and turned. He left the cell, slamming the door closed behind himself, leaving her laying on the cold, hard and dirty floor. When she woke up she would be screaming and afraid and he would relish in the sound. He couldn't wait to hear it. Just the thought was making him shiver with delight.

And when her boy toy came for her, oh wouldn't he be surprised when she cowered from him in fear! Pushed him away! Oh that would be a treat in itself!

Giggling, Eddie removed the gauntlet and skipped away to brag the good news to Harley.

Misery.

It was the best and only word Eric could think of to describe the too long days and seemingly endless nights that stretched on for eternity. It was the word that he knew that most accurately described his every waking moment, and that overwhelmed the small hours of sleep he had been determined to claim each evening. Endless wandering made him restless and though he never truly believed he would have ever ended up back in that apartment...well, he had and he hated every piece of it. Strangers had designed it, ghosts of his past, and now he was dwelling in it. Resting against strange sheets in a bed his body knew once a very long time ago. Slowly the mattress was beginning to recognize him again, but it was old and uncompromising and he loathed it.

Most nights, because of the tossing and turning, Eric spent the weary hours draped across the couch. The white kitten had taken claim to the back of the piece of furniture, snuggled gently into the tops of the cushions. Though Saucer certainly wasn't much of a kitten anymore. He was growing steadily, becoming more active and eager to explore. And bold. Oh was the white Persian feline a bold creature indeed.

There were no amount of books, magazines or television programs worth settling into that could distract him. Nothing seemed to be able to combat the misery and the emptiness Eric felt. Not even going out to explore the City or listening to the local artists struggle to find themselves. Some of that hope had returned, some of that emptiness had eased up when he had spent time on the wall with Lee. But she was only a small part now.

He needed his mate. Every moment spent without him was like dying slowly, a feeling Eric knew. It felt like suffocation, drowning.

Macklyn had sworn that they never would have ended up anywhere near here, that Eric would not have to face these walls again. These ghosts. These memories. Where had everything good gone? It felt like being trapped beneath a landslide, one thing after the other...and both of them were to blame for that. Had he known back on the island before Macklyn had changed him that he would have to face life without his soulmate, he would never have asked Macklyn to save him. Death was much easier than this. He would have welcomed that over this. This was...it was too much to lose.

Misery.

"You ain't the boss of me," Harley stated, narrowing her eyes at the tall, red-haired man. Her arms folded across her chest and she huffed, "You walk around here like you own me, Eddie, and you don't. You ain't got nothin' left besides me and this is how ya treat me?!" Harleen inquired in an amused gasp, her eyes widening. "You ain't nothin' without Jonathan. Nothin' without Effie. There was once a time when I knew ya ta stand for somethin', but that ain't now. When's tha last time ya made a riddle for tha bat? Hm? Left a bomb on tha Mayor's doorstep just waitin' for tha Bat ta figure out tha answer?"

Harleen laughed, hands sliding to her hips as she continued her rant.

"You used ta be so great...not as great as my Puddin', cause nobody is that great, but you was up there, yanno? Oneatha good ones...what happened to ya, Eddie? Ya got soft...I dunno what it is..." She sighed, rolling her eyes as she mulled it over.

Edward glared at her.

"Are you done you babbling idiot or do I have to shut you up myself?" Edward inquired harshly.

"Oh yeah. Big man. Wave ya guns at me. Like that scares me. Ya gotta do betta than that if ya wanna get ta me. Or did you forget who I'm with?" Harley inquired, a playful narrowing of her eyes followed her question.

Eddie laughed. "You mean the statue that you follow? The concrete image of a mastermind that has no power to do anything? Not even save you. He might pretend to love you, dear, but we all know he isn't capable of true love. That's why he tries so hard to kill you. Oh, you didn't know?"

Harley's bottom lip quivered but she wouldn't cry. Not here. "You take that back, ya monster! He does love me! Something happened ta him and I don't see you out there tryin' ta fix him." She sniffled and wiped at her streaming eyes with her fingers. "I hate you sometimes, Eddie. You ain't gotta be mean."

"Oh Harley....sweet, naive Harley," Eddie chuckled, "All we have now is each other so you had better start figuring out exactly where your allegiance lies. I would hate it if you ended up on the wrong side, though if by some miracle Jack did come back and asked about you, I would tell him you went quick and that all that was left of you was scattered ashes."

Harley frowned. "Monster."

And she left it at that.

Before the polished wooden door, Evey repetitively clenched her strong, thin fingers in uncharacteristic hesitation. It wasn't fear; she'd stood in front of his monster prepared to do what must be done regardless of personal cost. On more than one occasion now, she'd done that. It wasn't fear, or at least, it wasn't fear for her life. In her mind's eye, she saw him kneeling on the floor by his kitchen sink, still the noble man she knew, fighting against the demon inside him. On that day, she couldn't comfort him as she'd wanted. Now...

Now, she didn't know what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to be with him. Lover. Ex-lover. Mourner. Judge. Defender. What was she to him now that she was both more and less than she'd been before?

Her jaw turned diamond-hard. It didn't matter. She wasn't here for her own answers. She was here out of an innate sense of duty. He deserved to know what had happened to his lover. What had happened to her. She knew that whatever confusion she felt, it would be worse for him. And it was weak of her to be standing here on his threshold hesitating like a teenager afraid of rejection. Rejection didn't factor into this. She'd deal with whatever he threw her way. Because he deserved that much. Because he would suffer more than she would.

As her resolve slipped into place, she raised her fist and knocked three times, sharply. Enough of this, now. Her frame squared itself solidly in front of Aidan's door. She lifted her chin. She was ready. She told herself she was ready.

The curtains in the kitchen were drawn closed against the morning sun - and against the raging pounding in the composer's head. Unlike many in the past, this particular drumbeat symphony was fueled by the gin-soaked excesses of the previous evening. He could still taste the liquor on his breath. He could smell it oozing from his pores. Despite having dressed as neatly and cleanly as ever, he still felt as ragged and dirty as the exhibit he once had been.

His binge had accomplished what he'd intended; it had taken his mind off his losses. First Christine, then Hannibal... Erik rubbed a black-gloved thumb over the handle of his coffee mug before taking another sip. Mourning them would not bring them back. He could not follow where Christine had gone, and he was not willing to join his friend -- at least, not yet, not while there was still the opportunity to seek and find and create beauty. The diva, that Magdelene Defoe, had coaxed him back toward his first love, and he couldn't leave it now.

A small sound across the darkened kitchen caught his attention, both because it was out of place and because it was far louder than his delicate head wanted it to be. When he looked, he saw nothing at first. Then, the small head of a small girl appeared on the other side of the kitchen counter. The girl.

"Arrie," he said, his voice whisper soft - not by design but by necessity.

( Like a small boat on the ocean... )

There was no excuse for it.

Rose knew better, and was trying to hide it from everyone, even from herself. But today...

The sun was bright, the air was clean, and there was something about the City streets today that made her want to run -- run, the way she used to run, hand clasped in long fingers, laughing all the way (even when there was something chasing them). She missed it. She couldn't bring herself to even think the rest of the thought (she missed him), because missing the running was quite enough.

It could have been the season. The body kept a time all on its own. This would have been around the time of year when she'd last seen The Doctor. Not his copy, and not the older one that came after him, but her Doctor. She didn't want to miss him. She didn't want to even think about him. So she thought about the running, when she admitted to thinking about anything other than the work in front of her at all. She thought about the running.

And that's why she'd frozen between file cabinets, her hands full of hanging manilla folders, as if she'd forgotten why she was standing there at all. How long? She shook herself and opened the file cabinet, riffling through the listings with an elbow.

"One of these days, we should move all these paper files into an electronic format," she said, trying to be cheerful. Her voice was too bright. She screwed on a smile and nudged the first file cabinet closed, then moved to the second to finish filing what was in her arms.

The cabin, for the most part, had been relatively quiet. Logan tended to like it that way considering the fact that just about everything else behind the doors was chaotic and noisy. Not that he wasn't a man of action when the situation called for it, and he had been known to start a fight or two in his time, but now that Giselle was around Logan found himself trying to hold on to the quieter moments. That was not the first time in his life he had felt that way, Japan had brought a lot of solace to him as well when it could. It almost felt like home in a way, the familiarity of it touching him some.

Logan was settled on a chair in the kitchen, the newspaper spread out before him. He was browsing through it, trying to keep up with current events. Beyond the random appearances of dinosaurs, something he was used to by now with time spent in the jungle, there was not much else that captured his attention. If the dinosaurs got out of hand...well, this place did have its share of heros that would probably stand up long before Logan had to. Which he didn't mind.

Somewhere about Logan could hear Giselle getting up to whatever it is that had taken her heart. She did so much around the cabin as far as cooking and upkeep. Logan appreciated it.

He had things of his own that took his attention, people that needed tending to and assistance when he could give it. He had yet to bring up the subject of Melody, not that he wanted to discuss it with Giselle. He would keep it to himself for as long as he could not wanting to burden the woman with what he had been up to. Logan wanted nothing more than for her to be happy and he would not dampen her spirits if he could help it. At least, he would try his hardest not to.

From out of nowhere came a knock at the door. Then another. The very wood itself seemed to groan with the impact, which had Logan narrowing his eyes in distaste. The paper was folded neatly and set upon the kitchen table for later before the mutant rose from his chair. "Better be good..." Logan mumbled, heading for the door.

It swung open and already his fingers were clamped down, biting against his palm ready to strike when he saw a familiar face. That was not a face Logan cared much to see. "Help you?" He was trying to be polite for Giselle's sake. He really was.

Thanks to Alfred, breakfast at Wayne manor was usually served hot, on a tray, with a glass of juice. But sometimes Bruce Wayne didn't want anything for breakfast but cereal and milk. There was only one breakfast cereal that he would eat: Cheerios. There was only one type of milk that should be used with Cheerios: pasture-fed, organic whole milk. It reminded Bruce of his mother. He didn't remember why, but there was some connection between that simple breakfast staple and his mother. And lately, Bruce Wayne had been thinking a lot about family.

As he chewed whole grain oats pressed into O-shapes, he looked sidelong at the woman sitting next to him. "You know," he said, a little sheepishly. "You don't have to have Cheerios if you don't want it. I'm sure Alfred could make you an egg white omelet or pancakes, if you wanted it."

She really deserved better than who she was with, but he was glad she settled for him. He didn't think she needed to settle on breakfast, however.

Clarice was still familiarizing herself with the City's police offices. She was not a beat cop, but she had experience with local police offices thanks to her work on the Buffalo Bill case. Having a desk in an office like this still felt alien even as it felt like a purpose in this new, strange place.

In between examining the files that occasionally showed up on her desk, Clarice examined the station. She learned the names of the City-born officers that manned the front desk and evidence room. She lingered in the exam rooms, tracing her fingers over the metal tables and scarred wooden chairs. And she made her way to the forensics lab.

Forensics was not Clarice's domain; she had experience in morgues, knew how to examine a body and collect evidence, but testing the evidence was not what she did. Even so, she needed to know and trust whoever did the testing. She knocked on the door to the lab. "Is anyone there? May I come in?"

Selina had finally made up her mind to release herself from the bondage that was the catsuit and the mask. If Bruce could do it and be successful with it then there was no reason she couldn't be too. It was no easy feat to give up the prowl, for days and nights she continued to make any excuse to herself in effort to keep the mask and hide behind it. The invisible shackles of a life once lived, the unhappy past, that was what the suit represented. And finally she realized that all along she had been carrying the key with her.

From somewhere in the room her cat mewled. Selina smiled at it though her attention didn't wain from the leather mask she was holding in her hands. Trying not to cling to the familiarity, Selina took a hard breath and began to fold it horizontally in half. On the bed before her sat a hatbox that contained the rest of her outfit.

The boots had gone first, a favorite pair of hers. Atop that she had folded delicately the suit itself. Then came the gloves with the claws. And finally she set the mask down on top of the pile. The bullwhip was the last piece, her signature symbol of violence, and she wound it gently. It was placed atop the mask and then came the lid.

Her hands shook a bit, but placing her palms flat against the lid gave her a measure of stability. She took another breath, this one full of relief and a touch of fear, and her hands moved down the sides of the box to the bottom. This was her past she had locked away, everything she had struggled with and fought for. But she knew she didn't need it anymore. She had managed to rise above it. With Bruce she didn't have to conceal herself and with her circle of friends dwindling significantly in the past weeks she knew the temptation would wain without a source. Effie was dead. Jonathan was gone and Eddie wasn't bothering her anymore. She no longer needed them to consider herself free. This house was her freedom, being with the man she loved was freedom. It had been cloudy before but it was much clearer now.

She was free.

Finally free.

Selina carried the box to the closet and set it up high on a shelf. She pushed it all the way to the back, and placed things around it to conceal it away. She would not forget it, she couldn't forget who she was but now it was time to focus on who she was becoming. There was potential there and anyone be damned that stood in her way of taking advantage of all of the new riches that had presented themselves before her. Happiness was the best source of wealth that there was. How had she overlooked it before?

Leto sat on the high stool pulled up against the countertop separating the kitchen from the living area. He was very still, hands resting on the countertop in front of him. The eddies of time were sometimes so divergent as to be too blurry to fully see - but not this day. This day, he knew exactly what was coming. Or rather, who. He waited, dressed in a sand-colored collared shirt and a pair of casual jeans, boots on his feet. He waited, equal parts anticipation and dread welling inside him.

When the time was right, he dropped down to the floor, circled around to the kitchen, and set water to boil. Scrubbing the back of his hand against his forehead, he stared at the floor in front of his feet. Clara was not Oswin. He knew this. But there was so much about Clara that was very much also Oswin. Was it right to tell her? Was it right to leave it?

He knew that the questions were his and his alone to answer. She could go the entirety of her life here in the City without knowing that Leto had once met a girl name Oswin who lived in a shell - a girl who tricked herself that she was still living, still human... until, one day, he wished her human again. Clara never need know about Oswin, or about the time he spent with Oswin in the dinosaur-infested island. It was wholly up to him to tell her or not.

And he still hadn't made up his mind when the knock came.

Unhurriedly, he walked back out into the living area, through it, and to the door to his apartment. When he turned the handle and swung the door open, he still couldn't help the smile, despite everything.

"Hello Clara."

Barbara grit her teeth. She tugged hard at the collar and shoulder of the downed man's suit as she dragged his unconscious body toward the street. The only pause she took was long enough to assess the landscape. An array of trash bins lined the sidewalks, and so Barbara nodded. She grunted, pulling the man along the sidewalk toward the curb. Finally, when Barbara reached the curb itself she left the man next to the can, sat upright so he looked as if he belonged with the rest of the debris.

She brushed her hands together, done with the situation.

The letter in her pocket seemed to burn a hole in the pocket of her jacket and she removed it. On the front of the ecrue colored envelope was a sparkly green question mark. An insignia Barbara knew well. Riddler.

She opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.

In green pen, the script read:

Dear Bat Brat,

You know you have always been my favorite of the family.
Soon you should come have tea with me,
It would be delightful to see you again.
I would hate to have to come find you.
I hope that you like oolong.

Truly yours,

?


Barbara frowned. She wanted nothing to do with Edward. She looked helpless. The unconscious goon was one of Eddie's and she had made sure he was where he belonged. Out with the garbage.

"Damn it.." Barbara breathed to herself. Her shoulders slumped. This was not what she needed. She had a broken motorcycle and no place to store it to fix it, that was what she needed, a space to repair her Batcycle. She needed to keep looking without distraction.

Liv was used to the flash of memories from the dead. As a zombie that was part of her new reality. They hadn't come in use now that she was in The City, but back home part of the way she dealt with her new undead life was using her abilities to help people.

So when the first flash came, she thought it was from the brains she ate yesterday. Except they weren't from the deceased. They were Liv's memories. And it wasn't just one flash. It was flash after flash after flash.

( Cut for iZombie Season 1 spoilers. Spoiler warning for the rest of the log from here on out. )

Bruce Banner was her closest neighbor. She might have gone to Matt Murdock if he hadn't been a few floors above her. These new memories, reliving everything that had happened to her in Seattle all at once? It was too much to process. Liv didn't want them anymore. She didn't want to be a disgusting brain eating zombie anymore.

She couldn't help it. She was bawling her eyes out on the other side of Dr. Banner's door, the man who she barely knew but had given her ghost pepper jelly, her hand slapping it frantically, hoping he was there to let her in before someone saw her.

Finding where the key she had been given went had been a bit of a challenge even for her. The taxi that she had gotten had been a huge help with the pain in her leg and her back, but it seemed like the streets continued to change as she rode along in the back seat. It was a frustrating thing to someone like her who could recall exact information after only a glance at it. How was she supposed to know where she was going or where anything was if it moved like that on everyone?

Finally the Agreeable Apartments was in her line of sight. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to find her way back to Thor and to her motorcycle, but she would figure it out. She had to. But the exhaustion weighed down on her and she set that problem on the back burner for now. It was the least problematic on her ever growing list.

Barbara even found herself too tired and strained to freak out about everything. She felt like she was taking it well, all of this strangeness.

After opening the door to the apartment, Barbara looked around at it. It was simple enough, nearly decorated though it didn't look much like a home to her. Though she had been between places to stay after leaving college. As much as she liked her family, Barbara hadn't been ready to move back home. She liked her freedom and she was a little more messy than her father liked.

A quick close of the door behind herself and Barbara began to explore the place. On the counter in the kitchen she found credentials and identification enough to get her in to her 'supposed' employment at the City Police Department. Well, at least that was covered. In the closets she found her clothes, shoes and accessories, which was a relief. There was medication in her medicine cabinet in the bathroom for her back. Also a relief.

With all the bases covered, the red-head sank into the bed provided to her fully clothed and passed out. She would need to find a place to store her bike so she could repair it but that could wait. She was way too tired just then to care.

Barbara swung her fist, connecting the yellow gloved knuckles with the side of the face of a rogue clown that had been terrorizing one of the dark alleyways of Gotham. When the blow collided, the man shouted in surprise and Barbara grinned. Pulling her fist back, she tilted her body backward at an angle enough to lift her leg up and kick outward. The movement was sent with enough force to send the man flying backward into a pile of trash in the alley. Satisfied, Barbara put her hands on her hips and her feet flat on the pavement, peering down through the eyeholes of her mask at the man laying on the concrete.

"You look better with pavement as a backdrop. Maybe next time you decide to make a deal for Joker you'll think twice about doing it on my streets." Her back was twinging some but she ignored it. With the flap of her cape, Barbara turned and fled from the scene. In the distance she could hear sirens. Someone must have called Gotham's finest because of the shouting and fighting noises. Fighting was not the most silent of activities unless the fighters truly wanted it to be, but in their case why would they? It didn't matter who was listening, it mattered who won.

She exited the alley and mounted the motorcycle that was parked at the corner of the street, kicking the thing into life with the pushing down of a yellow clad foot against the ignition. The key was turned and she was off down the street with her cape flapping behind her. Where there were one of those guys, more lurked around and word seemed to get around quickly through the villain grapevine that trouble was about. Barbara was curious to know if Joker had some kind of personal vendetta against her or if it was just one more way to get close to Bruce. Probably both.

And as afraid to face the Clown Prince of Crime as she was, Barbara remained undeterred. She had to keep fighting. Her interest in it, though, had waned some since her recovery. There were so many in the Bat Family besides her that roamed the streets. Honestly, she figured that taking up her old post was to prove to herself that she could do it and to prove to Joker that he had not gotten her down. But was all of this really necessary? She obviously still felt the pain from the shooting, now and again the aches crept into her body and she felt lifeless when it did. Other times she couldn't move at all from the fear. Her dreams were full of laughter and gunfire.

Distracted, Barbara didn't see that the scenery had changed. Where it had once been night time, the sun shone brightly. It took her a moment to realize that something was different, and since her mind had been in two places the young woman didn't know until it was too late that she was careening right into a pack of velociraptor. Wait....Velociraptor? She had to be dreaming.

Blinking, Barbara wove her way through the pack of now interested carnivores. They turned and began to chase her bike as she threaded her way through the bright streets. One of them snapped at her leg, tearing through the matte black strip of leather and flesh. She cried out and winced, before the bike turned. It tipped and Barbara pushed herself from it, rolling down the street as the bike lay against the pavement.

A raptor mounted the fallen bike like a perch, emitted a roar of triumph and approached the fallen girl. Barbara struggled to sit up, her leg being the least of her worries. Her brown eyes filled with fear but there was a sense of wonder there too. Those were dinosaurs. Honest to God dinosaurs. Did she fall into some tainted version of Jurassic Park? This didn't seem like an attraction or any CGI or 3D training program that she was familiar with. The bleeding wound brought that evidence to light.

"Great. I'm about to be a snack for a dinosaur," she mumbled, then winced. Pressing her palm against her leg for a moment, Barbara pulled herself to her feet. Removing her hand, she turned and ran down the street knowing it was futile. But she wouldn't just stand there and die.

Life and been quiet and pleasant enough in apartment #5. Leeloo had discovered shopping, and had set about renovating the small apartment that she shared with Peter. It didn't look like the same space as what they'd had in die Festung, and that was all right; that was good. Change was part of life, and no one should cling to any one static thing for too long. Stagnation blunted everything.

But there was one thing that troubled Leeloo - one thing that had never sat well with her once they arrived. She had seen her best friend on the first day, but no other time had he come to her. She missed Bran. She missed Eric.

After having spent hours in the library during her exploration of the City, Leeloo found the closest part of the Wall around the City, swam out to it, and spent a good long time trying to climb it. But with her wetness and the smoothness of the wall, it seemed impossible. Finally, exhausted and sore, she fell back into the water and leisurely swam back to the City shore. That was not the way.

Next, she tried a boat and mountain climbing gear. With a rope to the boat tied around her waist, spikes strapped to the soles of her feet, and an ice pick in either hand, she finally scaled the Wall. And then she sat there, through the rest of the day and into the twilight. She would wait.

She would wait until Bran found her and brought Eric to her. He had to come. He always did, when she found their Wall. And this, she had decided, was their Wall.