The Universe's Mixer

( Confidants were a dime a dozen, if one had the dime )

Lestat sat in the hallway, head down, focused on the newspaper in his hand, acting like he was reading it. He listened intently to Dr. James Wilson's voice, eyes never leaving the paper.

Dr. Wilson was talking to a patient with terminal cancer about how her treatment was going. He was telling her she would die, and she was thankful.

It really had only been a matter of time before Lestat came calling here; Hannibal was here, and despite his promise to River Tam not to turn the boy, he was for damn sure not going to leave him alone. Walking the hallways here was interesting, too-- not a single person here knew what they were looking at when they saw him. It was like a game of catch-me-if-you-can, but he was the only one who knew it was going on.

When the woman left Wilson's office, Lestat rose slowly and silkily, and sidled through the door, sitting in the chair.

He'd met House. He remembered House. And Lestat figured that he and Wilson might get along quite well, all things considered.

Lestat missed David. Wilson missed House. He didn't see a problem here.

The vampire cleared his throat and waited for Wilson to look up, picking up a small stuffed bear from the edge of the desk and smacking the paper down on top of it.

Wilson felt bad that he had gotten to wrapped up at the hospital that he had neglected to check up on Violet. He had grabbed some nice journals for her this morning on his way to work. He made an effort to clear up his lunch break to go find her, since she had disappeared the other day after leaving him a note that she was going to visit friends at the youth hostel.

He had assumed she had just stayed over there with the friends, who were sure to be far more fun than hanging out with a middle-aged doctor, and that was a good thing. He just wanted to give her a little gift to make started college easier when she finally got matriculated.

He knocked on the door of the hostel, but no one was at the front desk.

"hello? Is anyone there?"

[Open for Lee or any other interested ladies]

A warm wind swirled around the doctor as he walked out of the hospital. He frowned, looking on the ground for the mounds of snow that had been there when he arrived. All gone. And now he was starting to sweat in his heavy wool coat.

Wilson pulled his coat off and folded it over one arm. He looked right and left, but no one was in sight. He contemplated going home to his lonely apartment, ordering in dinner and watching a dvd, but it held no appeal. After his talk with Cameron, he realized he did need to get out more.

He decided to start tonight.

He walked aimlessly around the street, looking for a bar that wasn't too upscale or too run down. Wilson wanted a place that served some bar food, a few kind of beer, and no fancy drinks with umbrellas. He found himself before a solid wooden door about 15 minutes after leaving the hospital, pushing his way into a slightly full bar playing BB King.

He hung his coat over a barstool and slid himself on, motioning over the bartender.

"A Guinness from the tap, thanks. Is there a menu?"

When Lisa woke she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets her legs were tangled in looked the same, her pillows smelled the same and indeed the way the light filtered through the blinds of her (was it hers?) bedroom was the same; but nothing felt the same. An unsettled coil wrapped itself around her stomach as the woman blinked awake; she was already wary of the dawn. The air was crisp in the house, and though her walls were the same color, and the clothing she draped over the back of the chair was the same she had tossed aside the night before...well, it wasn't home. She sat up quickly, her feet falling lightly across the carpet as she went from her room to the nursery. The painting there should've been done, the walls should've been a solid yellow by now but they weren't. A sharp pang of fear rippled through the doctors body and she made her way back to her room, tugging on the clothes that had been laid out to replace the pajamas she had donned before sleep. Lisa found herself becoming more rattled by the second; perhaps she had only dreamed of her ability to become a foster-parent. ( Maybe it was some cruel trick. )

It started with a simple prank.

Well, it wasn't exactly simple, but Perry Cox liked to call something this grand and tremendous 'simple' just to flaunt his apparent genius. Jumpsuit had traded him the keys to Newbie's apartment for a more effective dental plan than the one Kelso had set up, which Cox was only too happy to give him and the rest of his motley crew. Staring at the toothless faces of janitors as they mopped baby vomit up in the halls would only give him something else to add to his list of 'Things That Make Me Drink', and what with Jordan sucking him dry for botox money, he couldn't really afford that list to get any longer.

Besides, a couple grand here, couple grand there for a dental plan was peanuts when it came to making Dorian suffer. Random Girl's Name had been trying super-duper hard recently to get on that one last nerve he actually had saved from the wrath of both of his children and his bat of an ex-wife, and the bastard needed teaching a lesson.

( Making Newbie believe his apartment was haunted wasn't exactly hard work... )

Cameron thought it was a very good idea to take Wilson out to dinner. The poor newest dean of medicine was a bit overwhelmed, even with all the help she gave with paperwork. At least her charts were always filed away properly, and her records immaculate, but it wasn't that big of a help. It was just some saving grace that kept House from returning to stage a coup over Wilson. Still, Wilson needed a nice dinner and someone to talk to. Cameron had always liked Wilson, even at his worst, he was a nice guy. Maybe too nice. But then he'd accuse her of the same.

Cameron had been in a delightful mood ever since running into Dean. And now she wanted to spread that happiness. Maybe she was getting back to something normal in her life. Maybe she just thought Wilson could use a good meal and a drink. Either way, she'd told him where to meet her, the nicest little resturant she'd found in the City. They had a very good selection of food, as well as drink. She'd even dressed up. Wearing a dress wasn't something she did for everyone, she hardly did for Chase when they were.. well screwing around. But she thought Wilson would appreciate seeing someone in something beside a uniform.

Cameron was seated near the window, in a small booth. She'd already ordered a glass of wine, and there was fresh bread waiting on the table. She checked her cell phone again to check the time. Maybe Wilson was running late from work? She didn't mind it, she had a smile on her face.

House would have assumed they were having sex. Or worse. Cameron laughed to herself over it when she heard the door of the resturant and she peered over her shoulder. Hopefully he wasn't still wearing his white coat.

After the zombie madness Violet came to see she had to restock her supply of spare parts. So she decided to head for her favorite junkyard among the various ones within the City. Beyond the fact she was coming down with an ear infection (her ear still ringing) she was otherwise in one piece and was able to avoid being bitten. As she walked she felt the snowflakes land atop her coat,"Sunny would be loving this, young enough to love snow" she muses under her breath. Violet quickly wrapped her simple coat tigher to avoid being chilled even more as she walked.

Violet may have quite a few problems on her plate from finding new housing till the hostel is repaired to finding her friends to the ongoing question of a guardian. But for now she was happy to be heading back to the junkyard like any normal day. "But then when is anything normal here?" she admits to herself while ducking into a small coffee shop for some tea and to survery her stash of parts,"Lists help, especially on a day like today". As she worked she just listened in and was using what she heard to make notes,"Find a small heater" making a note on her list.

You're in a funhouse maze, but it's no ordinary funhouse maze. The mighty minotaur is stalking you through it, and you have to get to the center of the maze to save the virgins and get back out before it reaches you.

Wilson had ridden out the zombie furor in the hospital, treating anyone who made it through the doors for shock. He had counseled doctors, nurses, patients and total strangers. He had slept in his chair for days on end and he was looking forward to just going back to being head of Oncology.

Until, of course, he walked in the morning after the cure was discovered and saw "Dean of Medicine, Hospital Administration" on the plaque outside his door.

"No. No! I can't be Cuddy! This is wrong. Wrong. Damn it."

He sat down behind his desk and waited for it. Sure enough, about 1 minute later, a nurse came in with stacks of papers.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson. Here are all the staff forms, equipment requests and usage, unassigned client files, clinic calender..."

Wilson tuned her out as file after file landed on his new, larger desk....of course it had to be larger, to accommodate the expanded workload!

When the annoyingly perky nurse left, Wilson grabbed his cup of coffee and gulped it down, hoping it would clear his head enough to deal with all this crap. Strangely enough, it worked a little. So did smacking his desk with his hand repeatedly for 5 minutes.

It was when he was going over equipment usage that he found something interesting. All those supplies requested by either Dr. Lecter or Dr. Tam. Something fishy was going on.

He checked out the room where all the supplies were delivered, interviewed some staff, and he thought he finally got to the bottom of it. It didn't take long to figure out that just as the cure to the zombie attacks originated in this hospital, so too must the source of the entire problem. And those two idiots were just egotistical and irresponsible enough to do it, too.

Well, they were going to have to learn a lesson, weren't they? Wilson pondered his own situation and smiled meanly. They were about to get a real taste of responsibility, and learn to live with having to report to others.

Wilson had a nurse leave memos for both of them to come see the Dean of Medicine as soon as they got in, leaned back in his chair and laughed. Then frowned as he looked over the rest of the paperwork. Sighing, he slogged his way through the rest of it.

The Gunslinger neared the Tower. Ka had dealt his Ka-tet a bitter hand. Walter had read those cards long ago. It was time to spring the trap, Roland would not get to the top of the Tower if Walter could help it. The Man in Black had other plans for the Crimson King. After all the centuries scurrying around the wheel like some grasseater in the wastelands, it was time for Walter of Endworld to become Walter of Allworld.

He drew a sigil on a rough stone wall, resonating lost words from another time. A door opened into the Todash darkness, planning to reappear in the top of the Tower, to either slay an injured Crimson King, or a triumphant gunslinger. The power of the door drew him in and he knew something was terribly wrong.

Walter's way was magick, the energy of the Prim. It was capable of many wondrous things, but reacting with science it could have unfortunate side effects. Centuries before, North Central Positronics had created a teleportation gate at the same spot. Ka was finally visiting itself on the Nameless Stranger.

North Central Positronics found that creating a portal so close to the junction of the Beam was so unreliable that travelers were as likely to end up anywhere. They thoughtfully bricked up the opening, making sure the work matched the rest of the stone wall. It was these little careful details that separated them from other corporations.

Walter was drawn into the door. Instead of just hearing the Todash chimes in his head, a mechanical disembodied voice happily piped up as well. "North Central Positronics thanks you for your patronage. Transport gateway 19, activated." Walter had just enough time to realize what he had done before he blacked out. "19, acti..."

An unconscious gaunt black clad figure was spit out of an unseen door into the City. He bounced off of the side of a building, and crumpled to the ground.

Now it was at the end.

Slowly I pushed the doors of the hospital open and walked through. So many people moving around but no one really noticed me. I paused long enough to find where the good doctor likely would be.

One quick glance and then I was off again.

Quick and easy, walking without pause. Through the halls and around the corridors, and then I found him.

Moving fast, the knife flashing in the light, the blood such a stark to the white walls and floors.

My chest bleeds along with the bodies I've killed
I find peace at someone else's death
My life is empty
and I've lost all my sense of humanity


And once again I move. Careful to stay out of reach, out of sight. How would I find him? Where would he be? Did he know the pretty little River had already stopped? Or would the news be the last thing he heard.

There was not time to clean the knife so it was warm and wet in my pocket.

The door slammed open and the knife was in motion the moment he was seen.

"Dr Tam I presume?"

I've already forgotten the last time I dreamed of
today I just have nightmares
I see the heads I've decapitated
with a lot of blood on the hair

After her talk with Jack Sparrow Violet found herself sitting in what she thinks is a small coffee shop. As she sipped her tea she was making a list, something she had done so many times while on the run from Count Olaf. She mused under her breath as she wrote,"Find a proper and safe place to stay, maybe seek out a guardian, look into school since well I am not the most normal in that respect of things" between sips of her tea. But her eyes told a different story, this might be another journey but she was also scared to death.

Around her in the small coffee shop she was listening in as people talked of a possible killer on the loose. Violet being very Violet was also making notes for possible traps to catch whoever this person was.

[For Cameron]

Wilson leaned back in his chair, enjoying the quiet that came between patients. He loved working in oncology, especially when he could tell his patients how great their chances were after treatment. He always fought hard for each patient, even when he knew it was hopeless. He had to, it wasn't in him not to fight for them.

But it was always nice when he didn't have to fight and lose.

He picked up the file of one particular 15 year old girl. Allergic reactions to everything. Swelling. Hives. Acid reflux. Weight gain. The worst part was, other doctors had it as normal allergies and stuck her on Benadryl and steroids. Now she was allergic to them too.

It was times like this that he missed House. Wilson knew that while he was a good diagnostician, he had nowhere near House's ability to see to the heart of a problem. That was beside missing him as a friend and as a reminder that this was not, in fact, his home.

He rubbed his eyes and went back over the girl's medical records.

[Open to whoever wants to chat]

Wilson had taken to slipping away on his lunch break to the physical therapy room and working out an exercise routine using their equipment. He found it quieter than the gym, with none of the posturing and glances that the hot young bods gave each other. Here, it was just other doctors and nurses getting in a quick workout interspersed with people recovering from joint replacements or other major surgery. Nobody talked much.

Wilson found he kind of missed the talking. At least when House was around, he remembered who he was and where he was from. Without him, it was all too easy to slip into a routine, forget the differences in this hospital, the apartment, this city. He had no girlfriend, no best friend, just some nice nurses and some annoyingly arrogant doctors. That, at least, never seemed to change.

After a hot shower in the men's locker room, he ducked back into his office and pulled his lunch out of his mini fridge. Deciding to eat his salad first and save the sandwich and gazpacho for later, he plugged his iPod into his computer speakers.

Since he had just had it on his workout playlist, the first thing to come bursting out of the speakers was Ac/Dc's "Hell's Bells". Wilson's head nodded to the beat as he poured his italian dressing over his salad and began to eat.

With the music on, he couldn't hear anything from outside. Insulated. So noisy it drowned out the constant murmur of nurses, machines and crying families.

Wilson sighed and pushed his way out the front door of the hospital. He was ready for a hot bath, a hotter dinner and a cold glass of white wine. Only he lacked the dinner and wine. The bathtub.....well, he hoped that was still in his apartment when he got back. hell, he hoped his apartment was still his apartment when he got back. He didn't take things for granted here, not since he learned about the way the City worked.

Crazy messed-up world, huh? The psychos in Times Square with the posters and dreadlocks had no idea. Or maybe they did.

He picked up some beef curry and vegetable samosas at an Indian take-out place, then sprung for a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio at the liquor store. Everything was together in a nice, nondescript brown paper bag that thankfully didn't leak through or lose a handle as he walked. The night was looking up.

Until he turned down a street that was supposed to be where his apartment was, and walked into a fight.

His first instinct was to turn around and wait around the corner until it was done, but it was too late. The dueling duo had spotted him, and apparently resolved their conflict by telepathically deciding to take their aggression out on him instead.

Wilson lifted his hands palm out and said, "If you need money, I have a few bucks in my wallet. If you need food, take my dinner. It's not worth fighting about."

The taller of the two smiled nastily, flashing fang in the process, and said, "Oh, we want dinner but not yours. Just you."

Fangs? Wilson found himself wondering as a sense of unreality took over. That's new. He looked over his shoulder at the street corner, trying to gauge the distance and if he could make it. Too late. They were coming closer, and he wasn't sure he could run fast enough.

Debra Morgan left police head quarters. Her desk continued to remain the only landmark that she recognized, which she quickly lost in the shifting streets behind her. The detective started to panic.

Her first thoughts were deeply entrenched in denial. This was obviously a dream. Except Deb had never dreamt in color before or in such lucid detail. Her next thought was madness which she quickly rejected. The third thought: head trauma, perhaps a concussion. As she came to this more acceptable conclusion, Deb found herself facing The City Hospital.

She spent thirty minutes sitting in the hospital clinic waiting room, spending a fraction of that time filling out paper work. She still wore her badge, her shoulder holster barely visible from an open blazer which Debra spotted a young boy eagerly peeking glimpses of.

"Debra Morgan?" the nurse asked. The detective followed her into examination room three. Debra removed her blazer, holster and badge and set them neatly on a counter top. The nurse took her blood pressure and asked only a few questions before leaving. "The doctor will be with you shortly."

She opted to sit in one of the chairs in leu of the paper covered examination bench and waited.

River stood in the wings, waiting.

A red dress flowed almost to her ankles, and her dark hair was pulled back, a red flower sitting behind one ear. Her eyes looked even larger than normal-- one of the corps de ballet girls had lined them with kohl and dark shadow. Her lips were red.

She was not River right now. This was the last night she was going to get to be Kitri.

( The ballet was in the second scene. It was time for her to enter. )

Promethea flew over The City, watching over its residents. The caduceus lit up like hot blue fire leaving a noticeable trail in the sky. In the days and weeks following the disappearance and reappearance of The City Promethea had broken up several fights, stopped the looting of four stores and taken exactly thirteen citizens to the hospital, one of them a young boy.

It was not the most glamorous work but science heroes made excellent custodians in the aftermath of great disasters and tragedies.

Things slowly appeared to be returning to normal. The City still shifted like changing sands, but that was a feature that most people became accustomed to after their first week here. It made flying an interesting challenge in the downtown amongst the tall sky scrappers.

Today Promethea had not needed to intervene at all. Bill would soon be able to return home, if his landlord hadn't already assumed the long absence meant he was dead and given the apartment to someone else.

Bill and Promethea sighed.