A/N: Hello out there to all my awesome readers and reviewers! You guys make my day so much brighter.

This chapter's a little shorter, but it neatly ties up some things and opens the gates for a few new things in the next chapter.

And I wrote the majority of this chapter while listening to "The A Team" by Ed Sheeran, so if you're looking for a musical suggestion to accompany your reading, I'd pick that.

Enjoy!


"Okay, ladies," Myka barked, "what the hell is going on here?"

The two girls, clad in 80's-bright jazzercise costumes, backed away from the angry Secret Service agent. As they headed for the far side of the stage, Anna's roommate, Sydney Peters, appeared, jumping up the small staircase towards her two jazzercise comrades. "What are you doing here?" Sydney demanded of Myka. "I thought you were investigating Anna. She's not here."

"I'm trying to make sure nobody dances themselves to death," Myka said. "What do you know about what's going on here? Is it something in the music? The stereo?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Myka groaned and moved towards the stereo equipment. To the naked eye, nothing was out of place – no strange attachments or odd-looking bits, and the music blaring from the speakers seemed to be nothing more than up-tempo pop. Testing a quick theory, Myka hit the "stop" button and watched as the CD spinning in the carriage slowed, then stopped rotating. On the floor in front of the stage, the dancing students didn't even slow.

"What did you give them?" Myka asked Sydney.

"I didn't do anything!" the pretty blond protested.

"Then why can't they stop dancing?"

"I don't know! This is just like what happened before!" Once the words were out of her mouth, Sydney froze.

"Wait a minute," Myka said. "You said you weren't at the club the first time it happened."

"I… wasn't. I heard it from my friends."

"Uh-huh," Myka said, unconvinced.

In the sudden stillness of the room, she called down to Pete, "All clear up here. The stereo's normal and the music's a pre-made CD."

"Okay," Pete said. He circled the group of dancers, looking for oddities between them. "I'm going to test a theory, Mykes. Get ready to Tesla me if necessary."

"It will be my pleasure," Myka said, rolling her eyes.

Pete studied the dancing students for a few seconds longer. Then he began to dance, moving closer and closer. "Nothing yet," he reported. "And as I get closer…"

Suddenly he was within six inches of the closest dancer, on the outside of the group. Oddly enough, only his left arm and left leg were moving frantically.

"Pete! Are you doing that?" Myka asked.

"Nope," Pete said. "In fact, I'm trying very hard not to move that arm and leg…"

"So it's not the music, it's not the stereo, and it's not even Anna," Myka said, following his lead. "It's the floor!"

She hurried off the stage and down to where Pete was half-dancing next to the group. "Hey, EMTs!" she hollered into the hallway.

The two burly EMTs darted into the room. "Yes, ma'am?" the shorter one asked.

"Help us test a theory," Myka said. "Pick that young man up and set him down about ten feet away."

The taller EMT looked confused, but his partner shrugged, and then did as Myka asked, scooping up the lithe dancer in his jazzercise-colored spandex and yanked him from the group. As the student's feet left the floor, his awkward jerking and writhing movements ceased. He looked up at the EMT. "Thanks, man!"

"Pete, it's the floor!" Myka cried.

"Okay, okay, the floor," Pete said. "Uh… Mykes – you're going to have to fix the floor, 'cause I appear to be stuck."

"We'll get him," the EMT said. "Come on, Barry."

In a minute or so they had Pete removed from his portion of the floor, and the two agents were looking at it critically. "It looks like the rest of the floor," Pete said.

"Yes," Myka said. "Yes, it does. But, Pete, we walked by a couple of other rooms on this floor, and they all had wooden floors."

"And this floor's…"

"Some sort of vinyl, yes," Myka said. "I think whatever's causing the dancing is underneath. Got your knife?"

"Sure do," Pete said.

The EMTs had started to remove the other students from the floor in front of the stage. Myka looked up in time to see Sydney Peters moving slowly towards the exit doors.

"Grab her," she snapped to the EMTs. The shorter EMT managed to catch Sydney before she slipped out the doors.

Pete took out his knife and began slicing into the vinyl covering the floor. Beneath the blue vinyl surface the floorboards looked perfectly normal, but as Pete continued to cut the vinyl flooring, he came upon a series of floorboards that were differently colored. They looked older, more worn. "Got our artifact!" he called to Myka.

"Good work," Myka said, and she brought over the neutralizer case they'd lugged into the University Club. She snapped on a pair of purple gloves and started pouring the purple goo over the mismatched floorboards. Sparks flew upwards; the two agents covered their eyes as the gymnasium exploded into a tidal wave of dazzling lights.


"The floorboards are from the Armitage Hotel," Artie reported from the Farnsworth's bubble screen. "During World War I it was a popular place for dance marathons. One night a young American GI accidentally set a small fire. He thought the place would be evacuated in time, but the dancers didn't believe there was any danger. Instead they believed he was trying to trick them and refused to leave the dance floor. One thing led to another, and eighty-five people were trapped in the ballroom and died from smoke inhalation. Those floorboards were charged with all that frantic dancing energy."

"Not anymore," Pete said. "Neutralized and in this bag. We're on the next plane home."

"What about the fighting roommates?" Artie asked.

"Sydney seems very penitent," Myka said. "She told Anna… and us… that she only wanted the University Club to suffer for 'ruining' the cheerleaders' event."

"And they won't be roommates for long," Pete added. "Anna has found two friends among the other deaf students here at Bundel and they're going to go in on an apartment together."

"All's well that ends well," Artie said with a shrug. "Come on home, and bring those floorboards with you. I've got a perfect space for them… somewhere."

He moved to switch off the Farnsworth, but Myka stopped him. "Artie, how's Claudia?"

Artie chuckled and rubbed his chin. "She'll be all right," he said, and he turned the Farnsworth.

It took Myka a minute to figure out what she was seeing, but then the picture cleared. Steve and Claudia were curled up on the couch on the far side of the office; Steve had his arms wrapped around Claudia. The redhead still looked pale and drawn, even with her eyes closed, but her body seemed relaxed. And one of Steve's hands curled around her waist, his palm gently pressed against Claudia's belly.

"God, they're cute," Pete sighed.

"And they'll still be cute when you get here," Artie said. "Have a nice flight."

And he was gone from the Farnsworth.

Pete closed the compact and looked up. Anna was standing in front of them, a shy smile on her face. "You guys see a lot of weird stuff, huh?" she signed.

Pete nodded and grinned. "How about you?"

"Up until today, the weirdest things I've seen have involved college kids and alcohol."

"I hear you," Pete said.

"I don't," Anna replied, and giggled. Then she sobered. "There's no need to get Sydney in trouble over this. She was wrong to try to hurt people, but I don't think there's any shame in people fighting for a cause they believe in."

Pete nodded. "I can get behind that."

Anna looked down at her sneakers for a few beats. "You sign well," she signed after a minute.

"I'm a little rusty," Pete admitted.

"Yeah, but you're nicer than that government lady," Anna answered.

"I'm the real deal," Pete said. He fished in his pocket and pulled out his business card case. "Here. Take one of these. If you see something weird again – something we could help you with – give us a call. Our tech genius back home could get you set up with a relay phone call or a Skype appointment."

Anna nodded slowly.

"Or, you know, if you just want to talk. Or run your latest series of sick beats by someone," Pete went on.

Anna smiled. "You got it."

"Bye," Pete signed.

Anna tucked his card into her pocket. "Bye," she replied.

"You done talking with the children of a lesser god?" Myka asked as he strode towards her. "Katia says she can drive us back to the airport."

"Probably glad to get rid of us," Pete said.

"I can't say I'll be disappointed to leave her behind, either," Myka said. She snapped the lid back onto the container of neutralizer, which now contained the peeled-up floorboards as well. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"I don't know where that attitude came from earlier," Myka said as she stood. "I love children. They're the best way of knowing that the future's really going to happen. And honestly… if it doesn't happen for you or for me…"

"Who says it won't?"

"… then it'll be worth it to share in Claudia and Steve' s joy."

"Okay," Pete said. "But… don't count yourself out yet. Or me."

He put his arm around her as they left the gymnasium. "The future's a big place, Mykes."


Steve loved snuggling with Claudia. It represented the fact that their relationship had grown to a place where she trusted him enough to take care of her, to touch her without hurting her. He could stay awake for literally hours, studying individual strands of her hair or the way her eyes moved beneath her closed eyelids. When they were that close, he could sometimes feel their heartbeats sync and slow, as though simply being together was enough to put Claudia in an almost-primal state of relaxation.

Now he lay with his arms around her, worrying. Her face was so pale, and he could feel her heartbeat like a frantic trapped thing beneath her ribcage, refusing to slow no matter how he tried to mirror even, slow breathing. And she seemed to be warmer than usual, as though a fever was coursing through her veins. Something was off. Steve could feel it.

It was a theory Vanessa must have shared, because a few minutes after entering the office, she moved to kneel beside the couch. "Hi," she whispered to Steve. "How's things?"

"She's hot," Steve replied. "And her heart rate's ridiculously high."

Vanessa nodded seriously and opened her kit. With one hand she brushed back the hair from Claudia's forehead; with the other she swept a temporal thermometer across the expanse of pale skin she'd exposed. The thermometer beeped and the doctor looked down at the small screen. "One-oh-three," Vanessa reported. "Yeah, I'd say she's in some pain. I'll see what I can do."

She moved away and Claudia shifted in Steve's arms. "Jinksy," she whispered.

"What is it? Do you need to sit up?" Or throw up, he added silently.

"Jinksy," Claudia repeated, her eyes still closed. "Please…"

"Please what?" he coached her gently.

"Please don't let her… end up like…" Claudia rolled her head to the side, pressing herself closer to Steve. She whimpered in pain and tensed.

"Like we saw on the computer," Steve guessed. "The babies who died… or… were…"

He trailed off, unable to speak the horrors aloud. Claudia nodded briefly.

"I won't," Steve whispered. "Whoever she… or he… is – we'll do better. We are better."

Claudia opened her eyes and looked up at him. She looked exhausted and somehow a hundred years older than the last time he'd seen her.

"I promise," he murmured, and pressed his lips to her too-hot forehead.

"I believe you," she breathed, and closed her eyes.

Steve shifted, keeping his arms around her. It might have been exhaustion or a figment of his imagination, but he thought he could feel Claudia's heart rate slowing, as though he'd given her permission – for just a few seconds, a few stolen moments – to stop fighting so hard.