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snowdarkred) wrote2009-10-10 07:46 pm
Peregrination, Reality Check 004 ( Matrix/STXI xover)
Series: Reality Check 004
Author:
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snowdarkred Word Count: 4512
Pairings: Kirk/McCoy pre-slash, Sulu/Chekov, background Spock/Uhura
Rating/Warnings: R, for language, dangerous philosophy, and a new level of mindfuckery.
A/n: I'm sorry this is late, RL sucks, blah blah blah. I had hoped that this would be done sooner, but I was busy and then I was tired and then I was posting massive inspirational stuff on
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kirk_mccoy . Oh, and just in case it's been a while since you saw The Matrix, this is what a Sentinel looks like. See if you can find my Doom reference! Story Summery: Dr. Leonard McCoy has no idea why a band of leather-clad psychos kidnapped him off the street, but he is less than excited to hear what their blond-haired leader has to say about truth, reality, and hard choices.
001 Verisimilitude | 002 Interpolate | 003 Umbra
Chapter Summery: McCoy's life aboard the Enterprise gets even more complicated as his world starts to tilt dangerously close to something he doesn't want to contemplate.
Peregrination
McCoy's thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime of his door. He rolled on the bed, angling his head so that he could glare accusingly at the inanimate object. He didn't want to deal with anyone right now, didn't want to look anybody in the eye or see the accusations in their eyes. He'd heard them—he wasn't deaf, after all—whisper about him in the mess. While he was walking through the corridors. When he helped Chapel around sickbay.
The Captain would have been able to save them if he hadn't been there.
If the Captain hadn't been distracted, he could have saved Chekov before he was injured.
The Captain would have been on the bridge like usual...
...would have saved him....her... my friend..our family....
...would have noticed before....
McCoy wanted to scream at them, to shout and growl and berate. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't Jim's fault, it wasn't anyone's fucking fault but that idiot on the bridge who hadn't bothered to check the frequencies when the communications officer had noticed something odd. Now six crew members were dead, three more including Chekov were seriously injured, and Jim had distanced his crew by punishing those who should have noticed that the Enterprise was being surrounded. They blamed McCoy because, well, they were idiots, and Jim was never an easy target. McCoy was.
The door chimed again, and McCoy heaved a sigh of irritation. Goddamn it, he didn't want to deal with this shit.
He scooted sideways until he was half off of his bunk, and then he rolled, landing in a crouch with his feet planted firmly on the floor. It was a habit he'd picked up while he was in college, a stupid trick he'd used to impress his roommate with. The same roommate who had shaved his head all those years ago. They had been friends, but he guessed that that was another life.
The door slid open to reveal Sulu, his face carefully neutral. McCoy wanted to walk over to the nearest patch of unmarred bulkhead and bang his head against it with ringing force. He especially didn't want to deal with Sulu the Bitchy Pilot right now. Sulu paused, a small frown forming on his face as he took in McCoy position.
“...What the hell are you doing?”
“Shut the fuck up,” McCoy snapped. “I don't want to deal with you right now.” He straightened to his full height, glad that he had a few inches on the Asian man. Male dominance rituals would never go out of style, even in a post-apocalyptic future run by toasters on crack. “Your jail-bait boyfriend is still resting in the infirmary.”
Sulu raised his eyebrows and stared McCoy down. The doctor didn't back off; he wasn't a stranger to facing down concerned relatives and know-it-all jackasses. Sulu looked away first.
“Technically—” he started to say.
“I really don't want to hear about it,” McCoy interrupted. He was in a truly foul mood. He hadn't seen Jim since the meeting in the engine room, and he really didn't want to think that there was a correlation between the two. He didn't think that he could handle that on top of everything else.
“I came by to thank you,” Sulu said, his eyes returning to McCoy's. “You saved Chekov. You.... Thank you.”
McCoy studied the pilot for a moment, judging his sincerity, before shaking his head. “I was just doing my... what I do.”
“Well, I want to thank you anyway,” he replied. “There's something I want to show you.”
McCoy gaped at Sulu. Surely just stitching up the guy's boyfriend wasn't enough to completely reverse whatever shit the man had thought up about Leonard. But then, Sulu had sounded more than a little desperate when McCoy had been crouched over Chekov's limp form, hands pressed over one of the gaping wounds in his chest. 'Save him. Save him, dammit.' And McCoy had.
“What is it?” he asked, scanning his room for another shirt. The Enterprise stayed cold all the time, and McCoy was a Southern boy through and through. He hated the pervasive chill of the ship. He saw one and grabbed it off of the floor, ignoring Sulu as he pulled the blue shirt over his other blue shirt. Blue on blue. He wished he knew why they kept giving him the same color shirts. A man liked variety every once in a while.
“Just come on,” Sulu said, a familiar scowl reforming on his face. Oh, good, at least it was something McCoy recognized.
McCoy stepped in behind Sulu as the man lead him farther back into the ship. He tried to review what was back here as they walked through abandoned corridors and climbed down rusting ladders, but though he had been dragged all around the ship on the babysitting-slash-learning expeditions, he'd never been back here.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice twisting in the muted silence. The muscles in Sulu's back became more and more relaxed the further they went. The bulkheads were considerably less damaged in this part of the ship, and it was empty, as if no one ever came here. Maybe they didn't. “You're not bringing me here to kill me and stash my dead body are you?”
Sulu snorted, not bothering to reply. He lead McCoy around a corner and then stopped. A plain door, one just like every other door on the ship, was set in the wall. Sulu pressed a button in the computer pad beside it, triggering its touch screen surface. The faint blue light glowed, illuminating a tiny patch of the corridor in an unnatural glow. Sulu turned to McCoy and motioned vaguely at the device.
“Put you hand on it.”
“Is this the part were I turn my back on you and you whip out a katana and run me through?” McCoy asked uneasily. He edged a little away from the Asian man. “I don't think Jim would like it too much if you killed me.” Then again, Jim hadn't exactly been leaping to spend time with him.
Dammit, he was a middle-aged man, not a schoolgirl. Everything was already fucked up without adding additional drama to the situation.
Sulu rolled his eyes. “Just put your hand on the goddamn scanner, you grouchy bastard.”
“Well isn't the pot calling the kettle black,” McCoy retorted, but he did as Sulu said anyway, placing his right hand squarely on the screen. The pad brightened and hummed softly. Then it beeped, and Sulu nodded that he could remove his hand. He did so, checking it over to make sure that it hadn't magically come to harm whilst the pad did...whatever to it. Sulu pressed some buttons and fiddled with a straw wire, and then a cool female voice emitted from the pad.
“Access palm-print verification added. Admittance protocol for Doctor Bones starting now.”
“Hey, what the—” McCoy started, his eyebrows twitching furiously. 'Doctor Bones?' The hell? The door wooshed open and McCoy felt a wave of soft heat caress his skin through the double layer of shirts.
The room was wide and long, extending back until the walls disappeared into a brilliant haze. The warmth was incredible, and McCoy stepped forward unconsciously towards it. Bright robin blue rectangles ran in parallel stripes along the ceiling, punctuated by free-floating, glowing yellow orbs that circuited the room without visible support. One of the bobbles drifted in front of McCoy, and he could feel the dry heat radiating from it as it passed. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch it but only just. Leonard breathed deeply and smelled....
Green things.
Plants in huge pots and flower-boxes were arranged on the floor, against the walls, even hanging from the ceiling next to the blue retangles. It smelled like dirt, growth, life. For once he couldn't smell the fucking stench of oil and rust that permeated the Enterprise. There was only the scent of fresh tomatoes, ripe apples, and—peaches.
“What is this place?” McCoy asked, stepping fully into the chamber. Sulu was almost entirely forgotten as McCoy feasted his eye on the first plants he's seen since he woke up. The first real plants he has ever seen.
“This is where we grow the plants,” Sulu said, his voice void of sarcasm. “We eat some of it, but most of it goes into trading for materials and such. They are very, very valuable.” He hesitated as he said it, as if McCoy might go crazy or something if he were to know it. Considering his apparently well-known freak out in the sim with Gaila, the pilot's caution could easily be explained. Somehow, McCoy doubted that that was the reason why Sulu hesitated.
Leonard wondered what had happened to Sulu's crew.
“I figured that you may want to spend some time down here,” the Asian man continued. McCoy didn't look away from the plants. “There are some cushions over by the far wall that the crew likes to use. You can find your way back, right?”
“Yeah,” McCoy mumbled. He just wanted to soak it up, wanted to let it seep into his skin and envelop him entirely. “Sure.”
“Alright then,” Sulu said. McCoy heard the door close behind him, and under the sound a faint, “Thank you.”
For a while, he was content to wonder between the rows of vegetables and fruits, letting his hand run lightly over the leaves as he passed. He breathed the scent, felt the texture, and drank in the sights. Green things. Plants. He felt...at peace and content. He paused on his walk long enough to observe another one of the golden orbs humming past him. The sound soothed him even further, and the doctor let all the pent up muscles in his back and along his shoulders relax. He was too hot for the first time in a long time, and he shed first one blue shirt, and then the other.
He was safe. He was warm. He was alone with his thoughts, bare chested in a room full of light and life.
McCoy found the cushions and laid them out in an empty patch on the floor in the rough rectangle. He lowered himself into a sitting position. His head tilted back so that he could stare at the ceiling. The blue retangles were interspersed with “normal” lights, enough so that the blue was muted beneath fake sunshine. McCoy let himself slump back until he was laying down, his head cradled in his locked fingers. His thoughts turned to the crew.
Well, his thoughts turned to Jim. The Captain.
Jim was from the Matrix. McCoy had seen the scars. There were other scars too, deep ones, but it was the small circles that were seared into his mind. He saw them every time his eyes flickered closed: the line of Jim's back, the shape of his ribs against his chest, the contrast of his blood against his skin.
McCoy shuttered at the image.
There was something else too, something that had been twitching at the back of his head since before the machines attacked. Something had triggered a memory, a shadow of a memory, a faint passing phrase....
The gentle hum lulled him into sleep before he could finish the thought.
---- ----
He wakes up abruptly, with no real idea as to what woke him up. He blinks his eyes in the heavy blue lights of the false greenhouse. Something isn't right, something about the world is a little... off. He looks across the room slowly, rolling slightly on the ratty cushions. There is something—
A giggle catches his attention. He turns quickly, the world blurring and distorting around him. What—There. The source of the giggle is right... in front of him.
Joanna.
“Hi, Daddy,” she says, her big smile brightening her round face. She bounces in place, her blue-tinted dress flowing around her. The fabric glimmers unnaturally, and Leonard feels his stomach turn unexpectedly. “What are you doing?”
“I'm taking a nap, sweetheart,” he answers as he sits up. “It's peaceful here.” Something isn't right, something....
“Why?” Joanna asks. She tilts her head, making her loose blond curls—just like her mother's—fall about her face. “What's so special about this room?”
Leonard blinks, considering. “Well,” he drawls slowly. “It's got all these living things in it. The plants and flowers are beautiful, don't you think?” But Joanna was wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.
“Ew,” she says. “Why would you want that? Live things are nasty and gross.” Leonard frowned. The last time he saw his little girl, all she would talk about what how pretty the flowers were. This is the first time he's seen her in a year though, and he's happy, because he thought that he would never see her again after he escaped from the Matrix.
Wait. There.
“Jo, sweetie,” he says, shifting slowly a kneeling position. “I'm so glad to see you. How did you get here?”
Joanna laughs unexpectedly, her voice rising and expanding until he can feel it pressing against his chest, burrowing to his heart—
“Daddy, you left me!” she shouts, and her inappropriate joy in that statement makes Leonard want to hurl. “You left me behind to play make-believe!”
“Joanna, Jo, sweetie, I need to know, why are you here. I didn't want to leave you—”
“Then you shouldn't have left!” his daughter screams, her expression changing from delighted to furious in an instant. This isn't right; this isn't Leonard's daughter.... “You left me, Daddy, you went down the rabbit's hole now you can't ever come back!”
The world twists, just a little, and Leonard turns desperately, looking for a way out. He hates himself for wanting to run, for feeling desperate to escape from his own daughter, his little girl—
His little girl who hates live things and shimmers in the corners of his eyes. His little girl, who is somehow here on the Enterprise.
“Doctor McCoy, are you alright?” a female voice asks, resounding hollowly in the dim blue. Where did all the glowing orbs go? his brain asks fuzzily. “Doctor McCoy?”
He shakes head, and the world clears a little, so he does it again. He can't see the source of the voice, but it sound familiar. He tries to match a face to the sound, turning to face where it seems to be coming from.
“No!” Joanna screeches, and Leonard can't ever imagine why he thought that this person was his daughter. Jo would never act like that, would never talk like that. “Stop! You can't go! I won't let—”
There is a pressure on his shoulder, and when he blinks he can feel the solid shape of a hand against his bare skin.
---- ----
He woke up abruptly, with a perfect understanding that that was completely fucked up, and that he will never, ever speak to anyone about it. Ever.
“Thanks, Janice,” he rasped; his throat painfully dry. There were small tremors in his hands, but he clenched them and stared blankly at the ceiling. He was still laying down, there were orbs floating above his head, and the world wasn't completely blue. “I—Thanks.”
He glanced at her and saw the concern written in her face. She didn't say anything, and he didn't offer. It was better this way, he thought, his mind still sluggish from the drea—nightmare. No one wanted hear about his fucked up dream-scape, especially since everyone else was already pulling double shifts on top of grieving for their lost comrades. There was an ache at the base of his head, where his neck met his skull.
“The Captain wants to see you,” she said, moving back so that he could sit up. “I'll take you to him.”
“Okay,” McCoy said simply. He heaved himself the rest of the way up, groaning at the popping in his back and knees. Perhaps falling asleep with only a thin layer of plush between him and metal floor was a bad thing. Duh. He groped around for his shirts, self-conscious of all the skin he was displaying. If he looked like what he did in the Matrix, he probably wouldn't have cared as much, but here he was pale and scrawny where he had once been tan and strong. Not that everyone else on the ship wasn't as equally fucking pale.
He found his shirts, and he pulled them on together, hating how the synthetic fabric scratched against his skin. When he had straightened himself up as much as he was able to, he followed Rand out of the blue-tinged growing room. His head hurt. Their journey back through the ship was uneventful, if confusing. Rand didn't lead him back the way Sulu had brought him, but instead went in the opposite direction, taking him to another part of the Enterprise that he had never been to before via more ladders and crawl spaces.
She left him outside another door. He hit the chiming button and waited for a sign. The door slid open, revealing a brightly lit room not unlike a cargo bay. In fact, McCoy is pretty sure that that was what it used to be before, if the boxes shoved up against the wall were any indication.
The machine was here. Tied securely in the middle of the metal chamber, its limbs cocooned in thick chains and wire-cables. Its eye-sensors glowed in the half-light, illuminating Jim in vibrant red. The color theme was started to annoy McCoy, just a little.
“Hiya, Bones,” Jim said cheerfully. McCoy studied his profile, wondering what incarnation of Jim he was going to get today. Moody intellectual? Hardened Captain? Easy going good fellow? Jim's eyes glimmered faintly. “I want to give you something, but first, have you met NX-457 yet? I mean properly?”
McCoy felt his stomach churn uncomfortably. Maybe today was a 'fucking psycho' day instead. “I can't say I have. Or that I want to.”
“Ah, come on Bones!” Jim whined. He didn't look away from the prone machine. “No need to be bitchy about it. Just come over here and introduce yourself.”
“I really have no desire to—” McCoy started to protest.
“McCoy, that wasn't a request,” the Captain interrupted. McCoy blinked at the mood change and wondered if the Captain wasn't at least a little bipolar. He did bear the marks of the Matrix, and it had been heavily implied that it wasn't unusual for people who wake up late to go crazy. Or something. “Get your ass over here.”
'Aye, aye, Captain Bitchypants,' McCoy thought to himself. He took first one hesitant step, and then another, until he was next to the Captain. He stared straight at the thing's faceplate, the knot in his gut twisting tighter. All he could think about was that nurse-robot grabbing him by the neck and the other machine pinning Chekov to the wall, its appendages burried inside the teen's body, blood pouring onto the floor—
“McCoy, McCoy, Bones, Bones, listen to me, hey, you're okay,” he heard. “Focus, Bones, focus on me, just look at me—”
McCoy tore his eyes from the machine's and jerked away. Jim's hands fell from his shoulders—he hadn't even felt the other man touch him, which was a damn shame—and he watched worriedly as McCoy gasped for breath as his head pounded rhythmically. Today sucked so far.
“I—”
“Shit, Bones, I'm sorry,” Jim said, cutting McCoy off. It was hard to tell do to the environment, but he thought that he could see Jim blush. It may have just been a trick of the light, though. “I shouldn't have done that. I just—No, there's no excuse.”
McCoy shook his head and fidgeted in place. He pointedly didn't look at the not-so-proverbial metal monster in the room. “You wanted to give something to me?”
Jim paused and then sighed, bring his hand up to rub along his scalp. McCoy tracked the movement, his doctor half checking to see if his patient showed any signs of discomfort in his injured arm.
Jim sighed. “Let's get out of here. Bye, NX-457. I'll be back.” McCoy started and stared at Jim in shock, because the man had just done an incredibly awful imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator and McCoy was having a hard time keeping up with the guy's mood swings. He noticed McCoy's stare. “What, my mom was a sci-fi nerd.”
It was the first time McCoy had heard anyone refer to Jim even having parents. He wondered what Jim must have been like as a child. Then he wondered if someone had extracted him from the Matrix like he had Leonard.
“C'mon,” Jim said and then he lead McCoy out of the holding “cell” and started off down yet another corridor. McCoy followed behind—something that he was getting tired of—and he couldn't help but notice the artificial lights glinting off of something around the vicinity of Jim's ass. Not that he was looking at Jim's ass.
A gun.
“If you have guns, why the hell didn't you just shoot the damn things? He demanded abruptly.
Jim didn't even slow down, taking a left and then effortlessly climbing another ladder. “We live on a metal ship fighting beings made of metal. Ricochet, Bones, ricochet. Everything is coated with a syn-armor, which means.... For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. AKA, the bouncy-ball bullet. If we shot at them, we'd all wind up with bullets in our freaking thighs.”
A question occurred to McCoy as he trailed behind the Captain. “Why do the machines look like fucking mutated octopuses?”
“Octopodes,” Jim corrected. McCoy rolled his eyes. “They didn't always look like that,” Jim said as he came to a stop in front of...yet another door. Except this one had a mural hand painted on it depicting corn fields and bright blue sky. A carefully rendered sun shone golden rays down on the landscape, and artful clouds spelled out the letters J-I-M. The blond Captain tapped a code onto the keypad and walked in when the door opened, hiding the picture from view.
“What?” McCoy asked.
“Humans built them in our image, remember?” Jim stepped into the dark room and McCoy after him. “Lights.”
The room buzzed to life, and McCoy all but gasped at the sight. Books. He knew that Jim was intelligent, obviously, or all the super smart people on board wouldn't answer to him, but the shear amount of books crammed into one small space.... He hadn't seen a paper book since he'd woken up, hadn't seen a lot of things since he's woken up, but he missed books. Everyone seemed to use those PADD things to read stuff. And here was a room so full of books that they took up most of the space and even mostly covered the bed.
“When the machines founded 01, they didn't want to look like humans any more. God built humans in His image, right? So humans created the robots in their image. But the machines' rebellion denied that we were gods, therefore why should they look like us? All they would see when they looked around their new city was the forms their slavers.”
“Wait,” McCoy said slowly. He had a feeling that this was supposed to be important. “So we built the machines in our own image because God built us in His image?” He remembered what Gaila had said about the arrogance of the Second Renaissance Era.
“And they rebelled wholly, body and mind.” Jim walked along the packed bookcases that lined the room, running his fingers over the spines.
“I want to know why you brought me here,” McCoy said. Jim pulled two books off of the shelves and continued his circuit. Something compelled him to ask; he needed to ask. He had to know. “Why you sought me out.”
“You aren't ready yet,” Jim stated. Irratation exploded in McCoy's chest.
“Why not?! I want to know—”
“You just had a panic attack trying to say hello to a machine. You have to trust me, Bones. Leonard. I'm trying my hardest, and you have to return the favor by trusting that I know what I'm doing.” He tugged a third book free from a tilting stack.
“Why? It's not like it's apparently worked for you before,” McCoy snarled, fed up and lashing out. He needed to know why he was here, no one was telling him anything, and he had the fiercest headache this side of hell. He ignored the twitch of Jim's shoulders at his words.
Jim turned to him and shoved the book into his hands, his face stony. “Why don't you read these, and then we'll talk, okay? Dismissed, McCoy.”
McCoy curled his lip in an expression that uncomfortably mirror the drea—nightmare Joanna's. “You only call me 'McCoy' when you're pissed off.”
“I don't want to talk to you,” Jim glared before he pointedly turned and walked to the far side of the room.
“Whatever,” McCoy growled. “Why don't you go play with your pet machine since you seem to like them so much—”
“Get out!”
McCoy left, still clutching the books in his hands. He felt hollow as the door closed impersonally behind him, felt like a puppet with its strings cut. He looked down at the titles of the books Ji—the Captain had given him.
The Republic Book VII.
The Prince.
Meditations on First Philosophy.
Plato, Machiavelli, and Descartes.
----
He thought about going back to the garden room to read these, about stretching out beneath the floating orbs and numbing his mind of thoughts of Ji—the goddamn Captain. The idea of returning to that room any time soon was... not what he wanted. He hoped that his memories of Joanna would not be forever tainted by that stupid dream. It seemed foolish to be so, well, frightened by it, but nightmares aren't nightmares because of the subject mater. Nightmares are nightmares because of how they feel.
He returned to his room after getting lost several times. He felt exhausted and worn to the bone, which was appropriate. He collapsed on his cot, and stared at the blank ceiling. His hand rested lightly on the cover of the top book. He wondered if Ji—the Captain would let him have some paint for his room. He wondered if things would ever work out and what the whole mess was about. He wondered what was wrong with him.
Why had he lashed out like that?
--
005: TBA
---- ---- ----
Leave a comment with your thoughts and reactions and escape the Matrix! Tell me, did anyone spot the reference?
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I think you have something very cool going on here, and you explained enough that my Matrix-limited self could understand. :)
I'll be waiting on the next one!
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I'll try to get the next one done faster! But no promises.
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Take your time, it's all about having fun, yeah? :D
Oh yes, good morning! ^_~
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I did have a pretty good dinner, though. ^_~
You have shorter hair, yeah? I almost miss that kind of bedhead now. I have medusa head instead on the bad days.
...of course, my hair is past my butt, so this might explain things. :P
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Wow, you have long hair. I cut mine all off years ago; it used to be long, but.... My hair defies the law of gravity. I'm not even kidding. Check fb. I put pictures up of my hair's awesomeness.
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This is the longest my hair has ever been...I need a trim badly, but haircuts are so expensive in Japan. I'm gonna end up doing it myself at this rate.
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Thanks to my Doom filled mind I thought you took this from when Reaper was injured by one of his bullets. Got him in the thigh. xD
Great job. I was wondering when the next update for this was. xD
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But seriously, thanks for commenting. I get nervous when my fic goes a while with no comments. I fear that I'm making this too complicated, which is sad, because /I/know why it's all happening.... -.-
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No problem. ^^ I know how it feels so I try to comment as much as possible. (Yeah, if I don't comment that means I'm being dragged away from my computer or my computer decided that it doesn't want to work properly. -_-;)
Pfft, I like complicated. It gives me the chance to confuse others or confuse the author. xD I mean ... I will NEVER do that. <.< >.>
Oh Oh!!! I don't know why, but my brain has a theory (Yes, my brain and I are two seperate beings) that Bones could have had a ... virus? Hmmm, I will have to explain this, but it will be very long and painful. Anyways, something happened were a virus might have been injected into him before he was able to get out of the Matrix and thus have headaches and Jo devils in his sleep. He go crazy and stuffs like dat. :3 Brain is very... weird. (And also has more to this theory than originally thought)
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Of course now you have me curious as to what was going on with Jo...not to mention McCoy's mood swings. I assume it has something to do with the headache he has...to which I also guess has something to do with the time he spent in the greenhouse. But what does it all mean?
Of course, dear author, you are killing us by withholding Bones' true reason for being on the ship. It's a very slow and pleasent death...and it makes the story thus far very enjoyable to read.
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Of course there's a reason for McCoy's mood swings (*cough* There's a reason for Jim's too. *cough*)
Things will start to speed up soon. ;)
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It's an awesome idea, and I like the way you've pulled it off, the characters all seem to work so well in a Matrix-environment and still say their within their Star Trek personalities.
I'm looking forward to the next installment.
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Psst! "a little... of." [I think you mean a little 'off']
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[Dang, I thought I got 'em all this time! Thanks]
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Thanks for a great, thought-provoking crossover!