Chapter 4

SEATTLE GRACE MEETING ROOM

"Charlotte King, you and her go back a ways."

Jack nodded. "It was the first time I'd seen her since med school. It's not like I owe her a blood debt."

"No, it's just ever since you started working here, you rarely talk about your life prior to your tenure at St. Sebastian," Webber said. "And I got the impression you didn't have many friends prior to the plane crash, much less in this field."

"Considering the hours we keep I'm amazed we have friends right now," Bailey said.

"I think it's stretching a point that any of you would even go that far with me," Sloane said, only half in jest.

The idea that Charlotte had suggested actually was a decent one but Jack had realized very quickly that it was not going to be nearly as simple to execute as he had said. He also knew he was going to need more support than just going to Richard with it regardless. So after he and his friends had gotten back to Seattle, he'd had a couple of conversations with Juliet and they agreed the best way to approach was to talk this out with the guts of Seattle Grace, which meant Webber and all of the major department heads.

"Setting aside Dr, King's experience a few months ago, let's not kid ourselves about the underlying truth," Juliet told them. "We all work ridiculously long shifts, we spend hours in surgery or on the floor, and far too often we get next to no sleep in between. It would not stun me if everybody in this room did not make at least one mistake in their careers entirely because we weren't rested enough, certainly when we were just starting out."

"There's a very good possibility that you're correct," Webber said. "That said, I think we all know that even if we were allowed to go through every M & M over an extended or even a short period of time, there would be no record of that fact. No resident would ever be bold enough to make that claim for themselves and be able to keep their jobs and no attending would ever admit it even in private."

"Richard's right," Derek agreed. "This isn't just about lawsuits or ego here. It's about something more fundamental. Something we all acknowledge is a reality of our job and never think twice about. Our hospital system is bad enough as it is - the pay is absolutely horrible for the fact that so often you lose more than you save, the working conditions even at the best hospitals – which this is – are often woefully inadequate to do the job, and most people don't trust us to begin with."

"You're not making the job of running this place that appealing," Bailey turned serious. "I don't like being called the Nazi, but the thing is you sometimes have to have your residents hate you. As long as they direct their rage at someone else, as long as they are focused on desperately trying to move upward or win your approval, they're willing to overlook how absolutely horrendous the entire process to becoming a doctor is. And the whole reason we treat our resident and our interns like – I hate to use a word like slave but I'll admit I've treated them like occasion - is because if they aren't absolutely willing to do all the menial things for no thanks or reward, we won't have time enough to do more of the important work."

"And then when they become attendings themselves, they forget how miserable the experience was for them, and put their own interns through the exact same process," Weber said sadly. "We spend our internships and residency saying we won't be like our attendings and then we immediately become them."

"The circle of life," Addison said sarcastically. "It really sucks."

"Hey, we all know this," Jack said. "And we keep telling ourselves bromides like 'it's the nature of the beast' or 'we're working for a greater good.' The truth is people have to believe we are infallible and in perfect health. If they knew that when they go under the knife, half the people working on them may not have slept in twenty-four hours, no one would voluntarily undergo even a minor surgery."

"You're being generous, Jack," Juliet said. "Most of them don't have a choice to come in here to begin with."

"One major medical crisis at a time," Jack said with a small smile. "Look, if it weren't for what happened to me, I might feel very different about attempting the impossible. But…"

Everyone in the room knew Jack still struggled sharing some of the more personal details about his time on the island.

"How much of what I did wrong is because of my training as a surgeon or my own personal failings, I'm still not sure," he said slowly. "What I do know is that I thought because of how medical training works, I thought that I could push myself harder and have no limits when I knew what I was doing. I lost count of how many times I pushed myself past exhaustion over and over on the island."

He turned to Juliet. "When they were holding me, I expended a ridiculous amount of time and energy trying to escape. Juliet came to me with a sandwich and milk and I spent three hours screaming at her."

"In your defense, we were holding you hostage," Juliet said with a small smile. "And I wasn't telling you where James and Kate were, which didn't exactly bring much trust."

"You also told me if I didn't eat, I was start to collapse of exhaustion or dehydration," Jack reminded her. "If I hadn't done that I would have lapsed into a coma and I couldn't have helped anybody, much less my friends."

Addison shook her head. "Whenever I learn more about you Juliet, I really wonder how you could have spent so much time with those people and managed to keep your sanity."

Juliet's smile faded. "Half the time, I wondered that myself."

"The point is I spent almost all my time on the island pushing myself past any reasonable limits and then some," Jack said. "I seriously doubt anyone on the island ever got a good night's sleep, but I'm relatively certain I got far less than anyone else. And I guess that's given me a certain amount of perspective that I wouldn't have had."

He looked at his colleagues. "At the very least, I think we should consider it so we're not hypocrites to the patients when they leave our care."

That registered with Richard Webber in a way the rest of it didn't. He remember after his operation how much Derek had pushed him to stay off his feet until he recovered and how he had chosen to ignore him. There had been some examples of this under the last few years in particular. Had Preston Burke hidden his tremors from everybody because of the pressure to resume his duties? Had Miranda Bailey come back from maternity leave too quickly because of her desire to move up in surgery? This was both not the same thing and close to it.

"I think we all know there is manifest truth to what Jack is saying beyond what his friend told him," he said slowly. "And if it were strictly up to me I would do something that could make something like this possible for as many people at this hospital."

"But it's not just up to Richard," Derek agreed. "I didn't run Seattle Grace for that long, but I know that a hospital is a very intricate thing where all the pieces matter. The smallest of changes will knock over dominoes you can see and some that you can't."

"It's the actual butterfly effect," Jack admitted. "Not the one that scientists use, but the one that Ray Bradbury coined in one of his stories. "

"I read that story a long time ago." Addison said. "You don't really think that if we do something as simple as changing the sleep schedule, someone like Hitler becomes President?"

"That was just the most obvious effect," Jack told her. "The metaphor that I was going for is that the hospital we start out with would be different in ways that seemed wrong in ways that we just couldn't detect until we were fully committed to it." He paused. "That's clumsy, but I do understand why Richard is wary about the idea."

"I'm not opposed to it, either" Richard reminded him. "It is a good idea. One so obvious I'm kind of amazed no one in this hospital came up with it before, myself included. But a good idea is one thing. Finding a way to execute it is a whole other ballgame."

"Well, the bad news I've never been that good when it comes to putting plans into action," Jack said. "The good news is that we are all in the presence of someone who spent their career in research and might have at least some expertise when it comes to what we could do."

This was Juliet's cue. "This is a hospital where research studies are considering cutting edge," she reminded them. "And it's not like sleep deprivation studies would even be considered that. The psych department's done three in the past year."

Derek, who'd been part of two of them, looked the most interested. "So what you and Jack are proposing is some variation on that."

"I should mention I do this with some reluctance," Jack said slightly embarrassed. "As Juliet is all too aware and some of you have a clearer picture of, one of the biggest fights I got into during the crash involved what amounted to a station that I dismissed as a psychological experiment – and was actually something far more involved than that."

"This is about the Dharma Initiative?" Miranda asked. "You're trepidatious about that kind of thing three years later?"

This time Juliet answered. "In Jack's defense I had some of the same issues. My research is how I ended up making the acquaintance of Ben Linus and ending up on the island for three years."

Everybody understood that PTSD took all sorts of forms. "Do you seriously think you start this experiment and then somehow end up on the island again?" Mark asked bluntly.

"In your head I know there's no way in hell that can happen," Jack said.

"But that's different for not going to a dark place," Mark answered.

"Just because you come up with the idea doesn't mean you have to do anything else," Derek said sincerely. "There are other people more qualified in the subject who could carry it out and you could just have it attributed to you in a journal, if you so desired."

This time Jack answered. "In my case, that might be the best idea. Not so much because I have doubts but because it would take some real contortions getting it published if it were learned one of the specialists was a spinal surgeon. I'd be willing to help compile the data but I'm not sure how my expertise could help."

Juliet's jaw dropped. "I must be hallucinating. Jack Shephard, not believing he's the expert on all things under the sun. That's more of a miracle than anything I saw for three years."

"Don't look that thrilled, Dr. Carlson," Richard said with a similar gentle mockery. "You do know that the only way I'd be willing to let this study go forward is if something with qualifications in this field were one of the people at the head of it."

"In this case, I would have insisted on it," Juliet said in a more serious tone. "Not just because I would be getting back to basics but because I have a certain respect for Jack's friend."

Addison and Miranda both got why. "You are going to give hercredit when you publish?" Miranda said in her no-bullshit voice.

"I called her to ask," Jack said. "She's fine without getting credit as long as when we finish, she gets an advance copy of the results. The study's a failure, she can send it to St. Sebastian's research department, use it as parameters for a more effective model."

"And if it succeeds, she can use it as a model to work in her hospital going forward," Richard said admiringly. "Clearly she's got the qualifications to be a good chief of staff."

"For the most important reason," Jack said. "She knows when to lead and when to follow."

M.I.T SCIENCE DEPARTMENT

Dan heaved another sigh. "I'm starting to think it's lucky I have a career in classical music to fall back on," he told his wife.

"How long did Oxford tolerate these kind of things before they started to ask questions?" Charlotte asked.

"My memory's not that good," Dan said. "But considering the custodial staff had to be telling them about the bodies of dead rats they kept having to clean up, they might not have wanted me to stay if I had graduated."

When M.I.T. had learned that one of those esteemed classical pianists in the world had want to resume work in science, they had been overjoyed. They'd been similarly ecstatic to learn that he had been a child prodigy, the work he had done at Oxford and that he had wanted to resume his PhD. Studies here. Considering how many of the top quantum physicists worked here and that he was considering work in relativity, the board had been more than willing to let him follow his bliss.

Daniel Faraday was beginning to wonder how long that goodwill was going to last. The question was which part of his work was going to end up upsetting the applecart.

Most scientists, upon hearing the idea Meredith Grey and Ben Linus had presented him about pursuing certain parameters of the study, would have run as far away from the idea as possible. Dan and Charlotte knew more about the reasons at the center of it, and even with everything they knew about the island and the Dharma Initiative, both were fully aware that this was, as Rod Serling had famously put it, at the middle ground between science and superstition. Dan had signed on because he wanted to prove that it had to do with science – or more to the point, the science he had spent a fair amount of his childhood pursuing.

Both he and Charlotte had been grateful that no one outside of Seattle Grace and there only a select few, knew the true nature of what they were looking at. Because of his memory issues, Dan had spent a fair amount of the last few years, 'shooting from the lip' as a colleague at Oxford had put it about a colleague prone to malapropisms. But he'd managed to know that talking about this even in private was the kind of thing that was nearly certain to get him sent to a disciplinary board at best. He didn't want to think what might happen if the sieve-like field of Seattle Grace learned about what was going on. And if the board caught on that this was even a partial influence, well, Dan would be lucky if he could manage to have a career in Boston in any field.

Like anyone who even considers a field involving science, Dan had read his share of science fiction as a child. He would have agreed with Christina Yang about the connections between them, and it was likely he had read some of the same books she had though he had been, though in his case he had read his share of Heinlein as well as Crichton. But the difference was that having pursued a field that was closer to the kind of science then she had, he had been inclined to believe that while certain scientific advancements were possible and could be predicted by science fiction, he was not convinced that concepts could be. Jules Verne had proven as much in his writing but Dan was not inclined to believe that some of the more advanced concepts such as time travel could play out in a way that books or movies seemed certain they could.

In a weird way his belief in time travel was not dissimilar to Locke's view on destiny: he believed that you could not change the future even if you went back to the past and tried. Desmond had told him that, after his experience with electromagnetism, he had seen flashes of the future and that those flashes all pertain to the death of Charlie. In the weeks before they were rescued Desmond had done everything in his power to stop it from happening but even as he had done so, he had known in his heart it was futile. Indeed he'd actually seen it play out not long before the rescue had taken place.

Daniel was not shocked because it fit in with a book that had been influential in his thinking. He'd read Slaughterhouse Five at the age of eight and the way that Vonnegut's aliens viewed time had stayed with him. Years later when he'd seen Quantum Leap, he'd known that Sam Beckett's theory of time travel was based on Vonnegut's concept. Of course, the plot of the series gave lie to Vonnegut's. On that show the future was not written in stone. In Vonnegut's, it not only was but always had been. What had happened to Charlie Pace was tragic but was keeping in with that same theory.

And keeping with that he had a clear idea of what had happened to Desmond because just before he had forsaken science for music he had begun to think in those theories. In the early 1990s he had begun to work on a theory not out of touch with what had happened to Billy Pilgrim and Sam Beckett: was it possible to find a way to become 'unstuck in time"? Electromagnetism had been at the center of his theories before and it seemed that was what was likely to happen again.

To that end he was operating on a different theory as to what Izzie and Meredith had said when both of them had separately seen Denny Duquette over the past year. It was hard to argue that they had not suffered from traumas to the brain in doing so; he had their medical charts to prove it. But based on what Ben Linus had told him he had seen and the data that they had gathered from the survivors on the island Dan had a theory which he had presented several weeks ago- to a certain amount of disbelief.

"You're saying that Iz and Meredith both saw Denny because he's still there?" Karev said with understandable disbelief. "That's actually crazier then what happened to both of them."

"I don't blame you for doubting me, and it's not get any easier to believe or understand this theory," Dan had admitted. "Any reputable physicist hears this, they'd be asking me asking me if I had any brain damage,"

"How long ago was your most recent MRI?" Meredith clearly wasn't on board either.

"Desmond told me that when he turned the failsafe key in the Swan station, the next thing he remembered was waking up in his flat in March of 1996," Dan said carefully. "He still doesn't know whether he actually left the island and traveled back in time and space or whether his life flashed before his eyes and unfolded in such a way that he thought he was experiencing it with the memories of the past."

"I'm not seeing the connection here," Meredith said.

"What if it was a combination of the two?" Daniel said. "Desmond remained on the island but the electromagnetism caused his mind to travel back to 1996 London. He traveled in time not in his body but in his mind."

"I know that I have a hole in my head, but even if it were intact I don't think I'd be following you," Izzie said.

"When you saw Denny, he was still in his hospital gown," Dan said to Izzie. "Meredith doesn't remember what he was wearing but according to your own description, you were in what appeared to be some kind of hospital. In Meredith's case, all of the people you saw were people who had been at Seattle Grace before they died."

Meredith was starting to see where Dan was going. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything. My subconscious could have just as easily associated them as I last saw them."

Dan had no intention of mentioning Ellis Grey unless he had to. "Then let's consider this theory. When you flatlined, your consciousness left your body but it stayed within the confines of the hospital. What if everyone else you saw – including Denny – went to the same place?"

"If that's the case, I'm definitely onboard with Christina when it comes to not publishing," Karev said. "Bad enough we're looking into the idea of the afterlife, the world will erupt when they find out purgatory is basically a waiting room you can never leave."

"Why would they?" Charlotte spoke up. "That's basically the definition that most cultures consider purgatory in the first place. From the Catholic Church to Dante to idea of the bardo, many culture consider at least one part of the afterlife an inability to move on to the next phase. This wouldn't exactly be reinventing the wheel."

"There is some semblance of logic to your theory," Ben said. "Of course it only works in Meredith's case. Stevens saw Denny in other locations then the hospital."

"He did show up a lot here but that means nothing." Izzie reminded him.

"The island doesn't entirely work as a model, but for the record whenever I saw my mother it was based on how she looked before she died," Ben said.

"I've been meaning to ask." Dan looked through the notes. "On multiple occasions, the survivors heard whispering in the jungle. Now on several of those occasions, they proceeded the arrival of your people and in your own accounts, you stated that your first meeting with Richard occurred after you heard that same whispering."

Ben nodded. "Did Richard or anyone who preceded you ever give an explanation as to what they were?" Dan asked.

"He claimed he didn't know but as you are aware Richard kept more secrets than I did about the island," Ben couldn't help the bitterness in his tone. "All he ever told me was that the sounds were of the past and no one could face them."

Karev shook his head. "I guess the holier-than-thou attitude you had towards everybody else was passed down."

"Your theory, if I understand, is that those who died on the island, were ghosts from the past. Long past, not just my past," Ben said.

"And how does this connect to your theory?" Izzie had asked.

"Let's assume for now that when the body dies the consciousness is set free and exists on the same physical plane but not on the same temporal one," Dan said. "When Meredith flatlined, her consciousness went to that same plane as the dead but you left it when you were resuscitated."

"All right, that's completely nuts," Karev said.

"Is any crazier than some of the things we've been told?" Izzie said.

"Even if they were still there, how the hell could you even begin to prove it?" Alex demanded of Dan.

"I'm not saying it is provable, but there might be something in my research that could lead us in the right direction," Dan had told them.

Dan had known he was on shaky ground even positing the idea and in the month he'd been working on it, he was no closer to proving it at all.

The machine he had reconstructed in the labs was a variation of the one he had been working on at Oxford before he had left. He'd made some improvements – including much better safety protocols for everyone involved – but he was no closer to an answer than he had been in more than a decade.

The cover story he was using was that he was attempting to use a remodel of the techniques of Skinner when it came to reinforcement techniques. The visitors who had come to his lab saw white mice in cages and the mazes he was building and had no reason to assume otherwise. He was thankful that technology had improved enough in the past twelve years that he had been able to make a much smaller version of his device which had looked like the kind of ray gun a mad scientist would use in a 1960s movie – something that had been the subject of uneasy laughter when a few colleagues had seen in 1995.

Now it was designed so that it looked not much bigger than a very advanced microscope and everyone presumed that was what it was. No one knew that in order to turn it on safely Dan left the room and flicked a switch. He did not know how much electricity he was using every time he turned in on but considering the early notices he had gotten from the Boston power company he'd been reducing the number of times he used it in the past three months. It had also helped reduce the amount of specimen bills he'd gotten from the college and he was still personally disposing of the bodies individually.

But all of the technical improvements he had made did not disguise the fact that after four months of work he was no closer to a successful result then he had been at the start. For all the adjustments he had made to the machine, all the tinkering he had done to the mazes, he had yet to see anything at all successful. The only sign of progress in four months was that the mice were not dying the moment he activated the machine. Some of them lived half an hour. One brave soul had even lived half a day. But none of them had been able to get through the mazes he had built, no matter how simple he designed them.

"Barring an apple dropping on my head or some fungal growth on a specimen, I think I have to accept that this isn't going to work," Dan said, genuinely sounding defeated.

Charlotte did not like to see her husband so depressed. "There has to be something you haven't tried."

"Charlotte, I've been back to the drawing board so many times, I'm not sure there are any left to go back to," Dan said honestly. "Every journey may start with a single step, but if I can't make that step…"

Dan didn't have to finish that sentence.

"Are you any closer to figuring out which part of the setting that isn't working?"

"I'm pretty sure it has to do with the frequency," Dan said. "Obviously we figured out how low it has to be." There had been quite a few mice in the early stages that had either exploded or been set on fire. A huge amount of Dan's budget was going to air freshener right now.

"Honestly you should count yourself fortunate," Charlotte said. "You have had to start essentially from square one."

Dan hadn't entirely been stunned to learn that when he had reached out to Oxford, it had taken no less than four trans-Atlantic phone calls and a donation from the Widmore Foundation to even acknowledge that he had spent any time in their laboratories. Considering not only the conditions under which he had ended his tenure and the fact that he had chosen to do so without cleaning out his lab had built up a lot of animosity that had not alleviated over the course of more than a decade. When the registrar had finally acknowledged that he had been one of their students, he apologetically told him that all of his notes had been misfiled and could not be located.

Penny had been willing to pay a considerable stipend to a former custodial staff member to learn the truth. When they had found out what Daniel Faraday had been doing in the name of science, the faculty at Oxford had more or less burned every single scrap of paper Dan had amassed over the three years he had been at Oxford, save for his transcripts which they had deleted from the registrar on the computer.

"You're lucky that they don't send the blighter a bill for all the equipment he ruined," the man had told them.

Even if Dan had a perfect memory – and thanks to his own experiments he did not – he would not have been able to reconstruct every detail of his lab work over three years from beginning to end. He had a vague memory of where he'd been, but it wasn't like he'd had anything resembling success before he'd abandoned science for the arts. It had been something of a miracle that he'd managed to create a modern version of the device he'd been working on ten years ago – many of the parts had been modernized or didn't exist anymore.

He'd had a few conversations with Theresa in the last few weeks but she had been little help. She reminded him that ten years ago most of what he'd talked about had been far over her head and even now she couldn't remember what the exact terms were.

"There is one thing I do remember, Daniel," she told him. "Something very odd. You once told me the coordinates were always there and you always had them."

Dan knew why. It sounded far more like something from a philosophy course than anything he'd do in science.

"I feel sometimes like the answer is right in front of me," Dan sighed. "Or behind me. Or to the side of me."

"Is this where I say you do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around?" Charlotte asked dryly.

"It might be more constructive than turning more mice to ashes without even bothering to dump them in the incinerator," Dan said just as wryly.

"Look, no one's going to be that upset if we throw up our hands in surrender," Charlotte reminded her husband. "Hell, I'm pretty sure they'd actually prefer it to the alternative."

Dan nodded. "Yeah, but we both know this research is only tangential to what they're working on in Seattle. If this worked, it would be a lift off point to potentially so much more."

"The cure for the common cold." Dan looked at his wife. "We both know that might be the only thing they care about."

"Fair point." Dan thought for a moment. "You know there is one piece of my research that wasn't lost in storage."

He looked in one of file cabinets. He opened it and took out the journal that he had found earlier this year which he had never owned but somehow had both his and his mother's handwriting in it, equations he had never solved and a map to an island he had never visited. Even for someone whose life was wrapped up in the impossible, this was a lot to take in.

There was a famous story that Marie Curie's journals were locked in a hazardous material lab in France because they were lined with radioactive material – the same material that had led this groundbreaking scientist to a premature death. This journal was emotionally radioactive for Dan, and he didn't like taking it out of the cabinet that often. It was Schrodinger's journal, both his and not his simultaneously.

But at this point he was blocked on his research and maybe the only person who could solve this problem was him – or another version of him.

Dan gingerly removed the journal from the Ziploc bag he kept it in. The paper was in no danger of fraying or being damaged, but it didn't change the fact that Dan didn't want to touch it unless he absolutely had too. This seemed to be one such occasion.

He leafed through the pages gingerly, not sure what he was looking for but somehow knowing he'd know when he found it. After all, all he had to think of was where he would write such a thing. Granted he'd never been particularly organized in this life, so why would be in a parallel life or a past one or –

He decided to clamp down on that kind of thinking. It would give him headaches if he weren't occasionally prone to them.

Then he found what he was looking for. Might very well have known it was there all the time.

"Theresa was right. I always have had the coordinates." Dan said in his detached fashion.

Charlotte looked over his shoulder. "You do know the next question? How did you have them in the first place?"

"That's a rabbit hole I don't know I want to go down yet." Dan looked at the machine. "Let's get this started. Time to see if I am a smarter man than even I thought I was."

"I love you for your mind, Daniel," Charlotte said. "But there are times it scares me."

"You're not alone in that," Dan agreed.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I think a lot of my reference will be slightly out of left field to those who don't have a full scientific background or a sci-fi one. So these notes will deal with the uninitiated. (And in case you haven't read some of the books, go ahead.)

The reference to the butterfly effect comes from one of Ray Bradbury's many, many classic short stories 'A Sound of Thunder." There was a movie made, please do not try to find it, track down the short story instead. That is where we get the term but it's not the same one that is traditionally held to it of a butterfly flapping his wings in China and causing a tornado in LA. The story is subtler, I urge you to read it if you haven't.

Slaughterhouse Five actually is reference in Lost and it's a good, albeit challenging read. Dan paraphrases the book in 'The Constant' when he says he plans to 'unstick Eloise in time.' I think there's a clear link to what's happening in Quantum Leap, and I think that is in fact Sam Beckett's original theory: the idea comparing life to a string and you can leap on every point in it. Of course Vonnegut leans towards predestination and Quantum Leap's thesis is entirely based on free will.

Maybe there actually is a link between what happened to Meredith during Season Three and what we see happen to some of the characters on the island. After all, Denny is always in a hospital gown in both her time in limbo and Izzie's memory of him and Ben does only remember his mother the way he sees her in photographs. There were multiple theories throughout Season 4 and well into Season 5 that the dead that other characters were seeing were unstuck in space and time and while that was blown up when we learned what the smoke monster was, it still doesn't explain what Hurley saw off the island.

Considering how quickly Oxford was willing to purge Dan's existence in canon, I'm pretty sure they'd do the same to a failed student which Dan is in this timeline.

You should probably know most of the references here, though the one about fungal growths has to do with the discovery of penicillin. And yes Dan is about to discover the coordinates that Desmond gave him in 1996 and which somehow he always had before Desmond traveled through time to give them to him. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff as another famous Doctor put it.

I'm going to be expanding the crossover slightly in the next chapters though it will be a giveaway to those of you who read the previous fiction.

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