Precious Muse

A Flash-Arrow crossover by SJO

Note: The Flash, Arrow, Batman, Static, Superman, and Teen Titans (if I mention them) are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Brothers, not me. The characters I do own are the Muse and Ragnarok, and if you're not familiar with them, I suggest you read my fic "Song of the Muse." I refer to some moments in that fic, but consider the timeline altered. This part takes place in The Flash Season 1 and Arrow Season 3, between the crossover episodes and winter finales.

Chapter 1: Certain Recent Events

There was an unusual sight on the streets of Central City that morning. No, it was not that red blur, which by now has been commonplace. It was a bike with three wheels and a large cart in the back riding on the sidewalk. It parked outside of the local coffee shop, and the rider chained it to a lamppost, since there wasn't a bike rack. She then took off her helmet and threw it into the cart and took out her purse. The rider was a young woman in her mid-twenties with short red hair, glasses, braces, a light blue t-shirt and jeans. She went in.

A young woman of African descent approached her with a big smile. "Welcome to CC Jitters!"

"Thanks," she answered. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, what does the C.C. stand for?"

The woman behind the counter gave her a strange look. "Central . . . City?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, newcomer. Should've thought of that." The woman behind the counter just laughed. "I'll have a French vanilla cappuccino and a sausage breakfast sandwich."

"Coming right up!"

The young woman peered at the barista's nametag. "Iris? That's pretty."

The woman smiled again. "Thank you!"

"Such pretty purple flowers. I like purple."

"Yeah, me too."

"You know that's the state flower of Tennessee?"

"Is that right? Never been to Tennessee."

"Me neither."

"Really? Then how did you know that?"

She shrugged. "I'm just good at remembering factoids like that. Hey, are you the same Iris who writes that blog about the Flash?"

She smiled and nodded. "That would be me!"

"Wonder what he's like. Have you met him? He looks nice."

Iris just smiled bigger and remained tight-lipped. "Here's your coffee and breakfast sandwich." The lady pulled out a $15 and got some change back. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you." She took her food, sat at a small table by herself, said a quick, silent prayer, then pulled a tablet out of her purse and started reading something as she ate.

About five minutes later, she heard a male voice. "Hey there."

She glanced up and saw a young Hispanic man with long, dark hair standing by her table and smiling ear to ear, but she quickly turned her attention to her tablet. "Not to be rude, but I have an important presentation later this morning, and I have to prepare."

"OK, yeah, I get it. I'll leave you alone. I just wanted to say I like your t-shirt."

She was wearing a diagram of Sheldon Cooper's Friendship Algorithm. "Oh, thanks."

"Yeah, I love Big Bang Theory. Sheldon's like my spirit animal."

"Yeah, I feel like I have a lot in common with him, though I identify more with Abed on Community."

The man pointed at her. "Yes! I love Community. I got a 'Troy and Abed in the Morning' coffee mug. Well, anyway," he extended his hand to her, "I'm Cisco."

For the first time, she looked up at him with rapt interest. "Oh, like the guy from Star Trek?"

"Yeah, Deep Space Nine! He's cool, only he spelled S-I-S-KO, and I'm C-I-S-C-O."

"OK, cool."

"And you are?"

"Precious."

Cisco just grinned at looked closer at her. "Well, yeah, I know you are, but I meant what's your name?"

She looked at him in confusion. "Precious!"

He looked down. "Oh, you must've heard that one before."

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you being sweet? It's not always easy for me to tell."

"Well, yeah, I was trying to be. Anyway, I'll leave you alone. Where are you speaking?"

"Oh, I'm talking to the police precinct about neurodiversity training."

"Cool, one of my friends works with the police, Barry."

"OK."

"Maybe I'll get to see you there."

"Maybe."

There was a bit of a pause, and Precious looked back at her tablet. "Well, anyway, see ya."

"Yeah." Cisco sat back down feeling like a failure, but Precious smiled a little to herself and thought, "What a nice young man."

After breakfast, she got back on her bike, put in an earpiece, and tuned into the local alternative station.

She locked up her bike outside the police precinct. "Nice bike!" somebody said. She looked up and saw a tall young man in a jacket.

"Thanks," she answered.

"Man, I gotta get me one of those."

Then a brusque voice behind him answered. "Yeah, good idea, Barry. Maybe you'd be on time for once if you had one." A man in a suit approached her. "I take it you're here for the thing."

"Yes, are you Captain Singh?" she answered.

"That would be me."

"Hi, I'm Precious Llewellyn."

She extended her hand to shake, but he walked on. "Great. This way."

"If you don't mind, is there a place I can change first? I'm all sweaty from the ride."

"Sure, I'll show you."

About fifteen minutes later, the Central City precinct was gathered into a large meeting room. Captain Singh introduced her as "Precious Llew—something, from Metropolis. She's here to discuss neurodiversity training. Make her welcome."

Precious, now in a light blue suit, stood in the front of the room and started a slide show of various people. "Thank you. You, as policemen, have been trained to recognize law-breakers and criminals, but there are others you are not trained to recognize. These people in this montage all have something in common. All of them have mental disabilities. Autism, ADD, bipolar disorder, depression, schizophrenia, and others. Do you see any physical attributes? No, there aren't any. They look, as some people would call them, 'normal,' even though that's a rather relative term. So how do you deal with them?"

For about half an hour, she went into more detail about that. She talked about how to recognize the behavior and the correct way to approach such people. She noticed some people were paying closer attention than others. The captain looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, a few others took notes, but that young man who complimented her bike was leaning forward and absorbing every word. So she wasn't so surprised that he was the one who asked the first question at the end.

"This is all very interesting, but if you don't mind me asking, why is this so important?"

Precious sighed. "Well, for starters, I'm on the spectrum myself, and—" There were immediately some surprised mumbles in the audience. "Yeah, it was like I was saying, you can't tell. And certain recent events clearly demonstrated to me how crucial this information is for people, especially in authority to understand."

"What recent events?"

Precious looked down and sighed again. After a while, she answered, "I'm sorry. That's personal."

A year ago . . .

Precious was watching the news with her mother. A story came on about a child left in a hot car and dying. Precious thought about the story for a moment, and then she spoke up. "I need to do something about that."

"About what?" Claire asked.

"Those little children and pets being left in the car. There's stories about that every year. I think I should start looking out for that, get them out, get them to the hospital."

Claire paused and looked away.

"What is it, Mom? You don't think it's a good idea?"

She shook her head. "No."

Precious was about to protest, but Claire smiled. "I think it's a great idea. You'd be saving lives, baby. Nothing nobler than that. But do you think you'd be strong enough? You'd have to break through the window and get the person out."

"I'm sure Richie will come up with something to help. I'll get on the shock box and talk to him now."

It was a noble idea, but little did she know it would send her down a dark path.

"So what was that presentation about?" Cisco asked that afternoon into Barry's earpiece.

"It was pretty interesting, stuff I wouldn't know otherwise," Barry answered.

"Yeah, just what is neurodiversity anyway?"

"Um, Cisco, if you're interested in her, there's something you—"

"WHOA! DID YOU SEE THAT?" Cisco was looking at a video feed of the city, and he saw an amazing sight in the sky.

Caitlyn saw the same thing, but she was a bit more sensible. "That can't be what it looks like."

"What else could it be?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Barry responded.

"OK, Barry, hit the brakes." He abruptly stopped his run, slipping on the pavement, scattering pebbles everywhere. "Now, look up." Barry looked up, and he saw it, too. It looked a woman in a white dress and two enormous white wings in flight. "What does that look like to you?"

Barry had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing it right, but then he said it aloud. "An angel?"

Cisco quickly whispered something in Spanish and crossed himself. Caitlyn gave him a look. "Just in case," he mumbled.

But Barry was also skeptical. "Let's not just to conclusions, Cisco. This could be a metahuman flying woman."

"Well, there's only one way to find out for sure."

The flying woman landed on the tallest building's roof, came to the edge, and stared at the streets below. Almost as suddenly as she landed, she heard a voice behind her, "What are you looking for?"

She jumped and gasped in fear, and for an instant her wings disappeared, but she took a deep breath, turned around, and saw him—the young man dressed head-to-toe in red with a golden lightning bolt on his chest. She simply answered, "You."

He didn't answer right away, just looked at her quizzically. Now that he saw her closely, she didn't look that much like an angel. She had brunette, tangled hair, a spinning halo that changed colors, a dress that looked more like a costume, a cheap-looking crystal pendant around her neck, and tennis shoes. She took a few steps closer to him. "You're the Flash, right? I've heard about you. Yeah, I was planning on getting in your path and asking you to wait up."

"Yeah, that's not something I do."

"Well, I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to keep up with you. I just happened to be in town, and I wondered if you might need a hand."

"Sweet divine intervention!" Cisco said into his earpiece.

"Hang on. We don't even know who or what this is," Dr. Wells said.

"Oh, I'm the Muse," she answered. "I probably should've mentioned that. I work in Metropolis and Dakota, sometimes."

"You heard that?" Barry said.

"My senses are rather sharp. In fact, I'm a little bit bothered at the feedback the earpiece is creating."

"Sorry, I'll turn that down." He twisted something around his ear. "So, besides fly, what can you do?"

"Literally anything I can imagine. And I have a lot of experience with metahumans; they're all over Dakota."

"I haven't heard of that. Which one, North or South?"

"No, not the state, the city. Some years ago, there was another disaster they called the Big Bang. It actually happened before my time, so I don't know all the details, but I'm familiar with the aftermath."

"Do it, man!" Cisco said. "People write movies and collectable comic books about meetings like this."

"Well, not that I need help, but I guess I could give you a test run." He held out his hand. "Here, I'll take you to headquarters."

"Great." Thinking it was the only way to keep up with him, she took his hand.

WHOOOSH!

"OK, I made up my mind," the Muse said once they got there. "I don't like keeping up with you." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm going to be pulling those tangles out all night, and I'm tender-headed."

The Flash just shrugged. "Sorry."

"What do you do about it?" She looked at him. "Oh, right, your hair's under your costume."

"Caitlyn's probably got some detanglizer." He led her into the command center. "Here we are. Welcome to S.T.A.R. Labs."

"Wow, so this is the Muse?" Cisco spoke up. "She is . . . stunning!"

She looked at him with a stunned expression. "Cisco?! What you are you doing here?"

His jaw dropped. "You know me?! How do you know me?"

"Ugh!" the Muse slapped her forehead. "I blew it! Sorry, I'm not use to this." Then, in a wink, the wings disappeared, the costume vanished, and before them stood the young woman from the coffee shop. "It's me, Precious."

Cisco's jaw was still on the floor. "Whoa. How did you do that?"

"It's an interface in a cranial implant."

"Awesome!"

"Isn't that something?" the Flash said. "Cisco and I were just talking about you. I think you really made an impression on him."

"Good. Well, you don't have to blow your identity because I blew mine."

"Alright. Anyway, this is Caitlyn, and you know Cisco, and this is Dr. Wells."

"Pleasure to meet you," the doctor said shaking her hand. "You know, I'm surprised to see you state-side. I get the newsletter from the ARC, and I saw the article about your procedure. As I recall, the last sentence said something to the effect of, 'Precious plans to finish her college education then spend two years studying in Japan in pursuit of her dream of becoming an RPG writer."

"Oh, that sounds cool," Cisco remarked.

"Well, you're right, that was the plan," Precious answered, "but recent circumstances put that plan on hold for the time being."

"What changed your mind?"

She looked down. "I'd . . . rather not talk about it."

"There we go," Richie said with a few swipes on his tablet. "Your implant, when in Muse mode, is now sensitive to interior temperatures in cars and if any living beings are in danger inside. I'll put 911 in your speed-dial list, even though that's not usually recommended."

"Great," she answered, "but what I need is a way to break in."

"I know, I'm getting to that. I'm gonna start putting together a special extension for your wings. Just take a few minutes."

"OK, good deal." She watched him as he went to work. For a while, they were both silent. Then she spoke up. "So . . . how are things going?"

"It's . . . going."

"You know, I miss working with you two."

"Well, you know, you had college. I've been through college; I know how long it takes. Then you got braces and had the surgery."

"But what about you? And Virgil?"

Richie sighed. "I'm actually kinda worried about Virgil."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, after certain recent events, he's come to believe that particular people who are supposed to protect everyone are corrupt. I don't disagree with him, but I'm a little concerned he's taking it too far. He's taking on too much, going out for longer shifts, and he's not his witty, charming self. I fear it's taking some strain on his family, too."

"Should I talk to him?"

"You could try. I wouldn't recommend it."

An alert beeped on a computer. "Here's something," Caitlyn said. "Looks like Snart is robbing First National Bank."

Muse chuckled. "You say Snark?"

"No, Leonard Snart."

"We call him Captain Cold," Cisco added.

"That's disappointing. I was going to say we're going to start a Hunting of the Snark." She laughed, but no one else reacted. "It's a Lewis Carol poem. Never mind."

"Well, he's not a metahuman," Flash said, "but I definitely could use some help with him. His cold gun can stop me in my tracks.

"Cold gun? OK, I got some ideas." The Flash extended his hand to her. "How about this? You lead, I follow, I meet you there."

"Alright, I'll give you a head start." The Muse turned on her powers again and flew out of the lab, but she could just barely trace the red blur as it ran through the streets.

"I'm here for some cold, hard cash," the unmasked man in the coat said cavalierly as he pointed his gun at the cashier. "I can take care of the cold and hard part, if you hand over the cash."

Just then, a red blur ran through the bank, getting innocent bystanders out of the way.

"There you are, Flash. I expected you about twenty seconds ago." He started aiming his cold gun at the blur.

"I wouldn't use that," a voice said behind him.

He turned around and smirked. "What do we have here? An angel?"

"Muse. Common mistake."

"Could've fooled me. You look a lot more like an angel than an English alternative rock band." He then aimed his gun at her. "Either way, I don't listen." But as he fired, she waved her hands, and she slowed the beam and formed it into an ice sculpture of a heart. Many of the patrons "oohed" and "ahhed," and even the Flash stopped to admire her work. The only one who wasn't impressed was Snart. "Will you cut that out?"

"Maybe, if you sing a verse from 'Let it Go.'"

"Do I look like the kind of guy who sings, or watches Disney?"

"Surely you at least liked The Lion K—"

Just then, Snart pushed a button on his gun, and the Muse felt her feet press into the floor. She tried to move them, but they were stuck. It was a familiar sensation, but by the time she recognized it, she felt Snart wrap his arm around her neck. "I was hoping to use this on the Flash, but you'll do. Forget 'Let it Go,' angel, ask yourself if I'll let you go."

He then used something to knock her out. She woke up in a warehouse, and she saw Snart working on something. She shook her head. "I know that attack you used," she spoke up. Snart looked at her interestingly. "A friend of mine used it to do it all the time to immobilize his enemies. It's very effective."

He smirked again. "Thank you."

"So, why were you robbing the bank? Is it because it's almost Christmas, you need some spending money."

"Yes, keep talking, and I'll hang you on top of my tree."

"I'm trying to empathize with you! Seeing things from your point of view. I'm told it's one of my weaker points. Of course I've always struggled with socializing, so it's always good to practice that."

"Well, I'm rather antisocial myself." The Muse sighed and looked down. "If you must know, I was thinking of Christmas. As usual, my sister wanted something in gold."

"So, spin straw." Snart glared at her. "Sorry, that was a joke, probably not a good one. I can't empathize with that, so I'm hiding behind humor. I don't have a sister. My father left me when I was little, probably because that was when I was diagnosed with autism."

Snart looked at her again, this time looking up and down as though analyzing her. "Is that right? Your father left you?"

She nodded. "That's right."

"You know what that makes you, angel?" He looked very closely said very slowly, "Lucky."

She chuckled. "I never thought of it that way." She looked down in shame, realizing that she should stop talking.

She knocked on the door of the address Richie gave her, and it opened. "Precious! What a surprise! Come 'ere, girl!" Virgil pulled her into a tight hug.

"I missed you."

"Missed you, too. Come on in!" He let her into the living room. "We were just about dinner, and I'm sure Daisy can fix you an extra plate." At first, Precious was relieved because nothing seemed different to her about her old friend, but then he looked down and distant. "Then, uh, I don't need to be rude, but there's a thing I really need to get to."

"Static stuff?"

"Well, not exactly." Precious looked up across the room and got a clue—a big poster with the words spray-painted on it, "BLACK LIVES MATTER."

"You're protesting?"

Virgil sighed and nodded. "Look, I wouldn't be doing this if this wasn't important to me, and it's completely non-violent."

"But it's against the police! Romans 13 says we should submit to authorities."

"It's not about the police; it's about people who have no respect for African American lives! I don't expect you to understand."

"Well, I don't. I mean, I believe your lives matter, of course I do, but . . . well, if we can't trust the police, who can we trust?!"

"Precious . . ." He sighed and shifted his weight on his feet. Then he finally said, "God forbid this would ever happen, but how would you feel if someone started shooting at you just because you're autistic?"

"That would be horrible!"

"Exactly." He gave her one last sad look and walked into the kitchen.

Suddenly, she felt a whoosh of air and saw a brilliant red streak. "Let her go, Cold!"

"Now you show your face! You want her? Come and get her!" Yet as the Flash moved toward her, he pushed the same button, and he couldn't move.

"Flash, it's static electricity!" the Muse shouted. "Discharge!"

"Oh, right," Flash said. Lightning came out of his finger tips and hit into the ground, and then he could move his feet.

Snart looked back at the Muse with a little bit of betrayal. "Told you I was aware of it." He got her out, exchanged some words with Snart, then got out of there. "Hey, I got an idea. Meet me at the police station." She flew and he ran there. "Good, it's still here."

"What?"

"My bike." She got the helmet out of the back and put it on. "I thought of a way to keep up with you on my terms." Her wings disappeared, and in their place appeared a jet pack.

Flash grinned. "Race you to S.T.A.R. Labs!"

"You're on!"

He won of course, but it didn't matter. They just laughed and talked as they got there. "So, did you ride that bike all the way from Metropolis?" Flash asked.

"No. My mom brought it in a van, and she's staying at the hotel."

"Man, why didn't you just fly here?"

"Because I can't fly when I'm not the Muse, and I don't have a car."

"Don't feel too bad. I don't have one either."

"Well, you don't need one."

"That's true."

She stopped and looked at him. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"The police . . . can they still be trusted?"

"What?"

"Are they still the good guys?"

"Didn't you give a presentation to the Central City Police this morning? Why would you do that if you didn't trust them?"

"Well, I have a dear friend who believes the police are corrupt, and after certain recent circumstances, I have to admit, I'm starting to have my doubts."

"Well, I can't speak for all of them, but I can say without a doubt, by and large, yes, the police can be trusted."

"And what's your evidence?"

With one hand, he removed the top of his costume—his mask. "Because I work with the police."

Precious recognized him right away. "You're the guy who complimented my bike!"

He nodded and extended his hand. "Barry. Nice to meet you."

She shook it slowly. "But if you're a policeman, why are you a superhero? Isn't that redundant?"

"Technically, I'm a forensic scientist. I help process crime scenes; other people actually do the arresting. And I have these powers; I might as well use them."

Precious chuckled.

"And by the way, my mentor who is a policeman who I work with, he's African American, and his life definitely matters."

"This isn't just about Black Lives Matter, though." She sighed and gave him a hard look. "I trusted the system. I believed with all my heart that things would work out, right would win. Yet I saw justice with my own eyes crumble and turn against the innocent, and I lost someone very close to me."

"Yeah, I know about that, too. My mother was murdered when I was ten, and my father was blamed for it. I saw it happen, and I knew he didn't do it, but when I told the police what I saw they didn't believe me. What I told them was incredible, and they believed it was the invention of a ten-year-old boy's imagination. So I saw my dad go to Iron Heights for fourteen years for something he didn't do.

"But I didn't blame the police; I became the police. I studied to become a CSI, I researched impossible cases. I was dedicated to getting my father out and having the real culprit brought to justice. And now that I am the impossible, I just might be able to do that."

She nodded. "Well, good for you, but tell me this—with the real culprit out, were you ever afraid that he would kill again."

"All the time! I was afraid for a while he'd come after me next. Thank goodness he didn't."

She nodded. "Yeah, thank goodness."

"Hey, Precious?" He looked at her. "You keep talking about 'certain recent events' and leaving out details. Take it from someone who knows—it's not good to keep that kind of stuff inside. You need to find someone to talk to about everything, and you can talk to us. We understand more than you might think."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm not ready yet. Not now."

"Good luck to you, Precious," Dr. Wells said shaking her hand. "I hope you do make that trip up to Japan."

"I will, soon. I just have to resolve some things first."

"One day, you're going to change the world."

"Thank you, I know you're not exaggerating." He looked confused, but she just smiled and turned away.

"So . . ." Cisco said rubbing his neck, "how long until you have to go back to the big M?"

"It's probably not gonna be long. I don't know. I may need a few days to mentally prepare for the next stop on my tour, next Tuesday."

"Where's that?"

She took a deep breath. "Starling City."

"We've been to Starling City," Caitlyn said. "It's a pretty cool place."

"I hear it's a rough town."

"Yeah, it is," Barry said, "not quite as sun-shiny as Central. And it's got its share of criminals, but it also has the Arrow to keep them in line."

"Yeah, it's the Arrow I'm worried about."

"Hey, I met the Arrow before I became the Flash. He's an awesome guy once you get to know him."

"But he's so . . . intense."

"Well that just means he's doing his job," Cisco said. "Batman's also pretty intense."

"I met Batman, and yeah he's intense and intimidating, but at least he doesn't use people for target practice!"

"Look, the Arrow's cool," Barry said. "All he's about is protecting the city. He doesn't kill anymore, and the cops trust him, and I trust him."

"And wait until you meet his team!" Caitlyn spoke up. "They're gonna love you. We'll let them know when you're coming if that will help."

"No I . . . I just don't know. I probably should just give my presentation and get out. But thanks."

She started to leave, and Cisco was afraid he was about to blow his chance, so he ran up to her in the hallway. "Well, before you leave town, would you like to go somewhere and get a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"OK, cool. Religious thing?"

"More of a I-was-taught-since-I-was-little-that-drugs-are-bad-for-you-and-alcohol-is-a-drug thing."

"Oh." He mumbled, "So's caffeine."

"Well, alcohol also smells really bad, so I don't think it could taste any good.

"Um, OK, maybe a movie?"

"There's nothing really anything out in theaters I'm interested in seeing right now."

"Alright. Well, there's gotta be something—" He hit his fist into his hand. "I got it! This is perfect. You know, if you wanna write RPGs, you gotta play the original."

"I've played The Ultimate Dream several times, practically studied the seventh installment."

"No, I'm talking the original, the first big role playing game . . . D and D."

"Dungeons and Dragons?"

"The very same, milady."

"Well, I have been curious about it ever since those episodes about it on The Big Bang Theory and Community. Doesn't that have something to do with the occult?"

"No, absolutely nothing. That's a myth. It's all about imagination, so it's your kind of game."

"Alright then, I'm in."

"Excellent! I'll set it up, and I'll text you the deets."

"Deets?"

"Details."

"Oh, right. I guess you need my number."

"Yeah, that would help."

"OK." She got out a pen, but then she stopped. "Hang on. Are you asking me out?"

He suddenly went pale. "You couldn't tell that either."

"No, it wasn't quite clear . . . to me."

"Is it cool? 'Cause I get it if it's not. I bet you have a boyfriend, but in case you didn't, I just had to—"

"No. No one has asked me out, ever. I gotta ask, do you mind?"

"Do I mind what?"

"That I'm on the spectrum, that I'm autistic."

He didn't recall hearing anything about that, but he pretended not to. "What? No! Why would I mind that? Bill Gates is autistic, probably. So were Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, probably. And of course, Sheldon Cooper and Abed Nadir, probably. So you're in good company."

"Thank you, Cisco. Thank you very much. I'd be honored to go with you. I'll look forward to this."

"Oh, me too." She smiled at him and flew away.

At the end of the day, Dr. Wells went to his time vault and abandoned his wheelchair.

"Good day, Dr. Wells," the female computer greeted

"Thank you, Gideon. Begin log," he ordered.

"Yes, doctor." A blank screen appeared before him.

"Today, subject encountered another ally, a hero called the Muse. She certainly proved herself to be a formidable force, so it seemed. However, I am aware of her, and I am knowledgeable that she has a mental disorder that does make her vulnerable. Also, I know that in due time she will be focused with other matters, and her presence as a hero will wane. Therefore, I am not concerned at this time." He pulled up the news headline from his time and found it unchanged. "And the future remains intact."

At first, he closed the log and was about to leave, but something occurred to him. "Gideon, search for Muse."

"Yes, doctor." Within seconds, he was looking at several headlines and pictures of the Muse appeared.

He nodded. That was what he expected. "Search for Invocation."

"Yes, doctor." Gideon pulled up some articles and highlighted the word "Invocation." In all of them, the world use was incidental; it didn't mean what he thought it meant.

"Gideon, search for Precious Swan LeMaster."

And then Gideon said something that showed him that the future had indeed been altered, in a way he did not expect.

"Zero matches for Precious Swan LeMaster. Did you mean Precious Swan Ramon?"

"Ramon? Show me."

Gideon pulled up a wedding picture of a red-headed woman next to a Hispanic man, a little chubbier and with a mustache and beard, but it was unmistakably the same ear-to-ear grin. "Cisco."