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She shouldn't be here. She doesn't WANT to be here. Eva Wagner wants nothing more, at the moment, than to be at home, curled up in bed with a good mystery and a cup of hot tea. It's far too late to be out, and in such weather! The dead of night, with clouds so thick one can almost reach out and grab a handful of them. These clouds are not the benign things one sees mythical creatures in, however; no, these threaten to split their seams at any moment, bringing with them Mother Nature in all her righteous fury.

Already lightning streaks across the sky, providing instants of visibility--with the clouds hiding the moon and stars, trekking across the beach is even more difficult than usual. Indeed, Eva had already stumbled more than once, had scraped her palms on sand and small rocks in an effort to avoid falling altogether. The cold, salty wind whips at her as if a tangible, spiteful thing, and she huddles farther into her thin jacket.

Why is she out here? She is no fool; she knows enough to come in out of the rain, although the weather hasn't progressed that far yet. Not yet, but it will. She knows it.



A routine check of her email account's inbox brought the usual things: bills, spam, advertisements. With a sigh, Eva had gone through and checked the box that sat next to each useless waste of space, intending to delete them all. It had become routine; rarely did any personal or relevent emails come her way. She scrolled down the page, pointer wandering towards the "delete" button...when something caught her eye. A lone email, unread amongst correspondence between herself and her friends, that bore the strangest title. "How far down?" it asked, as if meaning to draw her into opening it for the answer. It had been sitting in her inbox for a few days, according to the datestamp, and she clicked on the words, curious.

"Greetings, Alice," ("Alice?" Eva thought)

"There comes a time in every little girl's life when they must shed the cocoon of childhood and emerge a jaded adult. The price for this is their innocence and imagination; it is rare indeed for an adult to have the bright, swirling thoughts of a child. A cloud is just a cloud, and a rainbow is merely a trick of the light.

Wrong.

There are creatures and things not of this world, if one would be so brave as to seek them out. Do you dare? Come to Abyss Beach at the witching hour on the 24th, Alice, if you'd care to look down the rabbit hole. Do not be late.

--The White Rabbit"

Eva puzzled over the strange email, reading and rereading it as if that would give her insight into its meaning. She was a logical woman by nature, and part of her outright refused to accept the invitation. Why should she? It was obviously sent by a madman (or woman), a lunatic with too much time on their hands. The beach, at midnight? Clearly this person had something to hide, if they wished to meet so late at night on a creepy beach rather than in broad daylight somewhere more appropriate. Why on Earth would she agree to such a thing, and why was the invitation extended to her?

It was that "why" that drew her curiosity. Why would someone, anyone, send her such a thing? She was no one of note, no one of any importance; just a cog in the machine. She had a mediocre job, a mediocre lifestyle, and a mediocre personality. Things like this just didn't happen to her, and she had never sought them out.

Perhaps it was time she did.



Thunder crashed, startling Eva out of her moment-long recollection. It was loud, and she cringed as if fearing the fury of the impending storm. She paused, looking up at the sky as if taking its measure. If she could forget that she was out in the middle of what would be pouring rain along with cold and windy, she'd almost say it was pretty. The glow of the Abyss was bright and lent a soft glow to the angry clouds, gilding the cotton with gold trim.

Eva began trudging on again as a sudden and particularly mean gust of wind slapped her in the face, as if reminding her why she was out here. She sighed, unfolding her arms to check her watch, using a finger of the opposite hand to press the button that illuminated its face. 12:01, the watch read. Well, SHE was on time, at least, but there didn't seem to be any sign of this "White Rabbit."

Sand had filled Eva's shoes awhile ago, and her toes squirm as loose grains decided her socks would be their next target. This is useless! She's cold, tired, scared--she was compiling a mental list of things to complain about when she felt the first few drops of rain--and soon she was going to be wet. No, as curious as she is, she doesn't want to risk catching a cold, or worse, pneumonia. This "White Rabbit" would just have to accept her not-so-heartfelt apologies.

She's all set to turn around and head back to her car when thunder crashes once more, followed by a flash of lightning. She looks up instinctively as the bright light streaks across the sky. That, at least, is pretty. She resolves to sit at her back window when she got home to watch it--from a safe distance, away from the wind and rain and this horrible beach. As her head swings back downwards, she catches a glimpse of white against the dark backdrop of sea and sky. She pauses in her motions, squinting; is that a person? A second flash of lightning offers enough light for her to discern that yes, there is indeed a person standing on the shore, near a tidepool. Is this person the one who had brought her out here so late at night, in such foul weather?

Seeing as there is a distinct lack of people on the beach at this late hour, she's willing to bet it is.

Her direction changes, not opposite the direction she's been progressing in, but to the side of it; she is signifigantly out of reach of the waves, but this person seems to be standing right in them! The figure becomes clearer as she gets closer. It looks like a woman, in a white coat, and she doesn't appear as if she's noticed Eva yet. Well, it appears as if she'll have to take a chance and find out for herself.

"Hey!" she shouts against the wind and waves, hands cupped around her mouth. She waits until she's a bit closer before speaking again--it was hard for the normally soft-spoken woman to shout like that, and she didn't feel like doing it again.

"Are you the one that brought me out here?" she asks once she's signifigantly closer, though out of range of the water. Although her gaze is fixed on the woman, she notices a faint light radiating from the pool. What is that? No, she tells herself, fighting the urge to look, one mystery at a time.

Suspicion, not about the Doctor's possible identity but about her intentions, immediately arises within Eva. She's heard of both Dr. Vrais and the Institute--who hasn't, at this point?--and has mixed feelings about them. Curiosity about these strange new lifeforms; a bit of fear, because what if these creatures really ARE harmful; pity at the attacks the Institute and their supporters suffer not only from their peers, but from Pikaia's Children, modern day extremist terrorists.

Why on Earth would the Jianfeng Institute contact HER, of all people?

Almost warily, she unwraps an arm from around her waist in order to shake the Doctor's hand. "It's nice to meet you," she says, more out of habit than anything else. "I am Eva Wagner," she responds, a hint of her native German accent slipping out in her nervousness, "but I suppose you already know that."

Fear mingles with the suspicion at the mention of Pikaia's Children. If they really were monitoring the Institute, does that mean they'll be able to track her down? Of course she's read about the horrible things the terrorist group has done, and she doesn't want to face their wrath. "Curious doesn't begin to cover it, I'm afraid...how did you find me? What do you want with me?"

Eva's eyebrows immediately draw together and upward, an obvious sign of worry that is more natural to her than any smile or frown could ever hope to be. The suspicion that has been battling her fear becomes overwhelmed by it as she worries about what will happen if she says yes. Her job (which she doesn't like anyway), her friends (like she had that many?), the home she has made here since fleeing from her past (which never really felt like a home at all) will all become things of memory. She knows that to accept Vrais' offer is to accept the threat of danger and almost complete isolation. Indeed, she has seen pictures of suspected Institute members in the newspapers--they were the ones Pikaia's Children went after. Eva is not a strong woman; she would not be able to stand up to them, or defend herself, and running would do no good against the relentless terrorists.

And yet...

...There is a life at stake, just as the Doctor said, aside from her own. Her dark eyes wander to the glow in the tide pool. It looks so warm and inviting in the gloom, like a cozy fire on a dark night, so harmless. How can something so small, so unintimidating, set so many people on edge? Humans had been speculating about life on other planets for well over a century; how could they want to kill that which they were searching so long for? Why did they get to say who gets to live and who had to die?

It bothers Eva that she feels so strongly about something that could very well get her killed.

"I had a goldfish once," she says, gaze wandering back to the doctor before drifting down to the sand. She hunches over her once-again crossed arms as if fearing a blow. "It lasted a week and a half. I want to help, but...I'm not sure how much "help" I'll be."

Eva looks down crosseyed at the bag suspended in front of her face, before glancing at the Doctor. She notices, finally, how odd the other woman is acting--how adamant she'd been for Eva to help her, her eagerness now, her gaze like a hawk watching a field mouse.

Eva is that field mouse, and that scrutiny unnerves her as she hesitantly takes the bag. She's wary of collecting the egg, warier still of Vrais' unfinished sentence...but she supposes that can wait. She leans into the wind as she walks towards the tide pool, dropping to her knees beside it as she turns the bag inside-out. Eva places her hands within the bag, bending over the small, purple egg, captivated for a moment by its glow. It wouldn't have survived the storm, she knows, and is suddenly thankful she didn't turn back.

Carefully, she scoops it into the bottom of the bag. It wiggles as jello might, if jello glowed and held some alien species within it. She cups the egg in one palm as her other hand turns the bag right-side out--neat, efficient, so like her. Standing, she moves back to Vrais, watching her for a moment before offering up the egg-laden bag.

"Was that...I mean, did I do alright?" she asks, fighting not to stare at the glowing egg.

As Vrais steps towards her, Eva holds the bagged egg closer, so as not to crush it between them. The egg feels right in her hands, a warm, pulsating thing, a bright spot in the middle of this dark and stormy night. Her eyebrows draw down in confusion as she studies the object in the doctor's hand--the darkness made it hard to tell at first--before shooting upwards as she recognizes the gun for what it is. She holds the bag closer to her now, slowly shaking her head.

"It's nothing personal." No, murder never is, is it? A more cowardly person would have instantly complied with Vrais' demand, in order to spare their own life--though Eva is as timid as a deer before a pack of wolves, she is no coward. She has been through too much to be called that. A savvier person might pretend to crush the egg before doing something brave and stupid, like try to throw sand in Vrais' face--Eva is not nearly so danger-smart. She is somewhere between the two, so she does something between the two: she runs, clutching the egg to herself.

The sand attempts to suck her down as she flees, as if it wants her to meet this grisly fate, and she stumbles, but presses on. She doesn't make it far, however, as she trips on a piece of driftwood--how did it get all the way up here? It seems even nature itself is against her tonight. Eva yelps, twisting to land on her side so as not to crush the egg. It falls out of her arms but luckily she's close enough to the sand that it doesn't harm it. Rather, it puts her face to face with it, and she stares at the embryo inside. She tries to get up but finds that she can't; she must have twisted her ankle on the way down.

Subdued but not yet defeated, she twists into a sitting position, sliding the bagged egg closer to her. Maybe she'd try that sand thing after all, although the way her luck was going the wind would shift and send it flying back into her own face. Well, at least that way she won't have to see what's coming...

A dream of panic and darkness. A dream of abandonment. Could it be that your future child's world was one that condoned child abandonment for the first years of life? Quite possibly. That would explain...

Well, that's getting ahead of ourselves. Consider: your child (quadruped, air-breathing despite the gills on her back), had she grown up in a society of her own people, would have been abandoned once she could walk to find her way in the world alone, sink or swim. If she made it back...well, then she'd be an adult.

Write me something about this. What ritual might have grown up around this? Why would they do such a barbaric thing? What are you dreaming of, Eva?