Evenin' all,

Okay, you may remember a thread on the Scratching Post a while back discussing a theme song for Subreality. IIRC correctly Kielle posted the lyrics to a Savatage song recommended by Matt Nute that described Subreality pretty much to a tee. Well, reading through the lyrics I agreed, and had an idea. Why not match all the lines of the song to events/people/things to do with the SC and try and fit it all in the framework of a story?

This is the result. It's a little bigger than I planned, and the ending suffers from the effects of reading too much Alan Moore, but I think you'll like it anyway. Every line in the song is accounted for, although some of the links are somewhat obscure. Mail me if you want a breakdown.

Many thanks to my beta-readers, queenB and Rossi, whose comments made me realise that this one was worth putting a little more effort into than the original throwaway skit I scribbled out a while ago.

Feedback will be lovingly slavered over at ifoster_98@yahoo.com. Disclaimers at the end, as is conventional. Enjoy!

Phil

PS -- I got meself a home 'net account! Yay! Three bloody months of arguing with France Telecom (and developing great skills at swearing in French) and I've finally done it! Time to rack up those phone bills ;)

"'I won't, darlin', I won't.'"

Alice stopped typing and leaned back on her chair, rubbing her fists into her aching eyes. Stretching out backwards on her chair she caught a glimpse of the clock -- 3:15 in the morning. No wonder her brain felt like it was full of cotton wool...

She saved the document and powered down the PC. The re-work was *definitely* something to do tomorrow after a good night's sleep. Getting up from the PC she suddenly groaned out loud as she remembered -- tomorrow was Thursday and classes started at nine on Thursdays. And no way could she survive on only six hours sleep.

She flicked on the stereo and flopped down on her bed, just wanting to rest her eyes for a moment. She'd get up and undress in a minute, and turn off the stereo. But for the moment she just wanted to lay down and rest her eyes, the flickering images of Jubilee and Logan still standing out in the garden. She was asleep almost before the new track started on the stereo. "THE LIGHTS COME ON/THE SHOW..."

The end of the story hung in front of her; Jubilee and Logan hugging each other in the moonlight, Everett lying dead on the ground before them. Somewhere in the school grounds, she knew, Paige was gazing up at the sky in wonder as Jono's true powers had come to the fore. Perhaps there should be a sequel...?

"Cut!"

Instantly the prone figure of Everett jumped up, brushing the grass off himself and turning to Jubilee and Logan. The latter got out a cigar and calmly lit up.

"Okay folks, that was great! Same time again tomorrow for the final run?"

Surprised, Alice turned to try and find the source of the voice, but there was no one behind her. She turned back to see Jono walking towards the group, unstrapping himself from what looked to be a safety harness. There was a sudden burst of noise and activity as a crowd of people walked into the garden, carrying camera equipment, clipboards and any number of other items.

"Hey lady, move it willya? Some of us've got work ta do." Something metal bumped into her and as she turned round to see what it was her mouth fell open in surprise.

It was a pumpkin. A big pumpkin stuck on a wooden-frame body. With a cigar in its mouth and a set of ladders under its arm.

"Who...?" she mumbled, gaping open-mouthed.

"Sorry lady, no time to stand about here jawin'," the pumpkin replied, pushing past here. "Least not if you want that curtain down again tonight." The figure carried on muttering to itself, under its breath. "Jeez, I dunno. Broads, huh? 'Put the scenery up, Merv.' 'Take it down again, Merv.' 'Put it up again tomorrow, Merv.' Like I ain't got betta things ta do with my time."

"Who are you?" Alice called after him. "And what are you doing in my dream?"

"Me? I work here, lady," the pumpkin replied. "Me an' the guys do. Salt of the earth, all of 'em, even if young Tiny's still wet behind the ears. Hey, Abudah!"

At his call a large, pasty-skinned creature shambled into view, looking to Alice like a cross between Frankenstein's Monster and a gorilla. "Get the ladders set up, willya? Curtain's down in five."

"Ayuh."

Still muttering to himself, the pumpkin wandered off. Alice heard a last yell of "Hey, Tiny! Get ta work! That lake ain't gonna get back inta the box by itself!" from his direction before turning round to find out what was going on. A few feet away the GenXers were chatting loudly.

"...least Ah didn't have too much angst in that one..."

"...never get this grass out of my pants..."

"...surprised she let you stay dead, Ev..."

<<...you wouldn't *believe* where that harness was strapped...>>

"Hey," she called out, still dazed at the sudden burst of activity. "What's going on here?"

"Whoa, guys!" Jubilee's voice cut through the chatter as she turned round. "It's the author!" The young Asian rushed over and grabbed Alice's arm, tugging her towards the group. "You staying around for the after-show party, then? Cool! Everyone's gonna be there an' it's been ages since we've had an author hang with us!"

"Huh? What're you...?" Alice started to ask, but was interrupted by the younger girl's enthusiastic voice.

"Paige! Get yerself over here, hayseed! The author's here fer the party!" The blonde woman waved a greeting at the bewildered author, and gestured her over -- unnecessarily as Jubilee was still tugging on her arm.

"Look, what's going on here? Who are all those people?" Alice waved over at the pumpkin who, along with several helpers, was setting up a number of ladders that appeared to be leaning against nothing but the open sky.

"Oh that's just Mervin clearing away the set."

"The set?"

"Yeah. You know. Turning the lights on, taking the stage down. That curtain's gotta have its final fall, y'know."

"What curtain...oh!" Alice stopped dead in her tracks, staring open-mouthed at the sight before her. The team led by the pumpkin had climbed up the ladders into the open night and were reaching out into the sky, as if trying to catch hold of the stars. As she watched, something...shifted...and the entire moonlight night was lifted up and...off.

Eyes open wide at the wrenching perspective she watched the workers carefully rolling up the trees and stars above them all, with occasional calls to each other, until the whole thing had been carefully rolled up and was being taken down the ladders. Behind it all there were struts and woodwork, supporting frames with ropes and pulleys hanging haphazardly around them. And behind all that...

Behind it all there was a starless night. Simple, black emptiness that stretched as far as the eye could see. "Wow..." Alice breathed.

"Enough of the gawping," Jubilee yelled, throwing back her head. "Hey, everyone! I SAY IT'S TIME WE PLAY!"

Fortunately this outburst of exuberance seemed to distract Jubilee from her attentions on Alice, and she ran off to speak to another group of people in the darkness. Blinking with the enormity of what she'd just seen Alice turned around to try and get her bearings. Standing nearby were Everett and Jono; Jono with his characteristic dark-and-brooding look and Everett looking faintly embarrassed.

"Sorry about that," Ev said. "She tends to get kinda hyper at these end-of-story gigs."

"End of story gigs?" Alice repeated. "Look, I'm sorry, but what's happening here?"

"Oh, right. This is your first time, is it? Sorry, I suppose we should have explained." Ev paused for a moment to brush some more dirt off his jacket. "And did you have to get me so dirty?"

"Uh, it was part of...the story..."

"Yeah, well I suppose it could have been worse. And since this is the first time you've come with us afterwards I can't be too mad at you." He grinned at her.

<<An' I've got no complaints. Yer got me accent right, an' the flyin' was pretty decent.>>

"Oh...good..."

"So anyway," Ev carried on. "We usually have a bash of some sort after the story. Are you joining us this time?"

"I didn't realize I got a choice to do that..."

Ev grinned again. "Well, there's this big guy on the door who'd say you don't, but don't worry about it. He's pretty much got used to Writers coming in now anyway."

"Coming in where?"

<<There.>> Jono pointed away into the distance, towards a bar/diner standing in a patch of neon-illuminated ground.

"The 'Sub-eality Ca-e'?" Alice asked, reading the sign on the top.

"'Subreality Café,'" Ev corrected. "The 'r' and the 'f' got broken in the Court Of Miracles and no-one's bothered to fix them."

"Oh."

<<Ye've never been to th' cafe before?>> She almost thought she could hear a smile in Jono's 'voice'.

"No. Why? What's in there?"

<<Things you never dreamed you'd know, luv.>>

Before he could explain further Jubilee ran back over to them and grabbed her and Ev's arms again. "Come on guys, we've got to get there before everyone else turns up, so we can welcome Alice to the show!"

"Uh, there's not gonna be a problem getting in tonight, is there?" she whispered to Everett. Before he could answer Jubilee strode right up to him and stood facing him. Or at least, facing his chest.

"There's not gonna be a problem getting in tonight, is there?" she demanded.

"Nope."

"Because tonight's an after-the-show gig, and we've got the Writer with us. So you'd better not try and get all...huh?" Jubilee paused as his response finally registered with her. "Whaddya mean, 'nope'?"

"What I said," he replied in a gruff voice. "You got a Writer with yer? Fine. Just don't cause any trouble."

She stepped back, obviously amazed. "Waitta minnit, what happened to all that 'No Writers allowed, I'm gonna throw me weight around' 'tude you usually give us?"

"I've 'ad enough," he replied, looking down at her over folded arms. "You wanna get in? I ain't gonna bother stoppin' you. Cause any trouble an' yer out, but I've 'ad it up to 'ere with them soddin' Writers tryin' to get past me all the time. Besides, most of 'em just come an' go as they flippin' want nowadays. If the boss's got a problem with that then she can sort it out. From now on I'm just 'ere to stop any trouble startin'."

By this point Jubilee was doubly amazed. Not only had the Bouncer officially quit from what used to be his main reason for being here, but also he'd just given the longest and most eloquent speech she'd ever heard from him.

"Uh...okay. Fine." She turned round to the others. "Looks like it's okay for Alice to come in, guys. Though I'm flonqed if I know why..." She opened the door to the café and the others followed her in.

The place was pretty quiet inside. There were a number of chairs and tables arranged around the spacious bar area and further towards the back was what looked like the restaurant. Apart from a couple of people seated further back, Alice, Jono, Everett and Jubilee were the only customers there.

"C'mon guys, let's PARTY!" Jubilee yelled, running over to the bar and having half-forgotten the Bouncer already. With a long- suffering sigh Everett and Jono followed, Alice trailing behind them. Over on the other side from the restaurant area was what looked like the remains of a stage -- one where the band hadn't been too successful by the looks of it. Empty drinks bottles lay rolled to a stop surrounded by bits of half-eaten food and what could have been burn marks. The broken remains of a guitar sat in a corner, and strips of black cloth with the letters "L-G--Y C--CERT" hung in tatters from the roof. Baffled further by this sight, Alice followed the others up to the bar.

"Hey, Mapleleaf," Everett said in greeting to the well-built man behind the bar. "This is Alice. She's new here."

The bartender nodded his head towards her. "Nice to see you, miss. Can I get you a drink?"

"Uhm, Jack Daniels and coke, please," she replied.

"Sure. Anyone else?" Taking the rest of their orders the bartender turned to get their drinks. Alice found herself unable to look away from the wreckage of a stage in the corner, and following her gaze the bartender gave a brief laugh. "What happened there?" she asked.

"Oh, we had a concert last night which was a bit of a failure. A Metallica/GenX band combo were playing, and unfortunately their Writer wasn't very experienced in this place."

<<I'll say he wasn't,>> Jono muttered. <<Burn marks?>>

"They kept insulting the audience," the bartender replied. "The crowd were nice enough to them at first but they started insulting Hawk and we had to get the Bouncer to throw them out."

"But what caused the burn marks?" Alice asked.

"They went too far, I'm afraid. Almost caused a flame war."

Taking their drinks, the foursome slumped themselves down at a nearby table, Alice with her JD-and-coke, Ev with a soda, Jono empty-handed and Jubilee with a pint of lager. Ev glanced at her drink. "Should you be drinking that? You're not old enough in this tale."

"Hey, considering *some* of the things the Writers get me to do, drinking beer is hardly going to be a problem, is it?"

"I suppose..."

"Look, I still don't understand," Alice interrupted. "What is this place? And what do you mean 'end-of-story party'? You keep acting like the whole thing's a stage show or something."

"It is, after a fashion."

"Huh?"

<<It's all right. I'll explain,>> Jono's telepathic 'voice' cut across the conversation. He turned to face Alice, leaning one arm casually over the back of his chair. <<We're fanfic characters, as yer know. The ones who you used in your story today.>>

"Uhm, I guess..."

<<So where do you think we go after you've finished with us?>>

"Well..." She paused, considering the question. "I never really thought you went anywhere, I suppose. After all, if you're my characters then once I've stopped writing you you don't exist anymore, isn't that right?"

Jubilee snorted and appeared about to say something until Jono glanced at her. <<Hardly. After all, if we didn't exist after you'd finished writing us how could anyone else read us? Just 'cos you've finished writing the tale doesn't mean it's ended. More often than not it's only just started.>>

Alice looked blank.

<<Look, even though you've finished writing the story, it still goes on, right? Even if you never think of us again -- which ain't the way it normally goes -- then the other readers'll still be seeing us and thinking of us. We'll still be around. An' what's more, 'cos yer writin' fanfic 'stead've yer own characters we've been around even before you started thinkin' of the story, an' even once this story's run its course there'll be others usin' us. You may be King Dream-Maker fer the moment, but there's a lot of others around who use us. Follow?>>

"I think so," Alice replied, taking a long drink of her JD. "You're telling me that, even as characters in my fanfic, you've still got some sort of existence outside that tale?"

"*I'll* say," Jubilee interrupted. "If we didn't exist outside you writing the tale how could anyone else read us?"

<<Exactly. An' since we've gotta have somethin' to do between the tale bein' retold, we come 'ere.>>

"To a cafe?"

<<'S as good a place as any other, luv.>>

Alice paused for a moment, then finished off her drink in one long gulp. "I'm not sure I understood all that."

<<That's all right. Yer've got all night to explore.>>

Alice was about to ask a further question when the door burst open and three people strode in. At least she thought they were people -- the anatomical disproportionality of all three made it a difficult judgement. One was a redhead, dressed in a skintight-lycra red-and-gold uniform that revealed more flesh than most bikinis; the next was an icy-looking blond covered in nothing more than straps of white leather; and the last had more skin covered by her long purple hair than by the thin slip of material that went into places that made Alice cringe to think about. The door slammed shut again behind them as they strode across the floor to the bar.

"FANBOYS!" yelled the blonde. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to take one of those little drooling adolescent gorillas and..."

"Telepathically turn off his sex drive?" the redhead suggested. She gestured down to her chest. "Not to mention teach him basic biology. Does he honestly think anyone could walk around normally with *these*?"

"At least you've got TK to help," replied the blonde. "Trying to keep this bra on was murder in that last scene."

"Believe me, I could have done without the TK in that scene with Scott."

"At least he's your husband."

"True, but I don't think either of us will be able to eat peanut butter again..."

The two of them had by this point made it to the bar where they sat down on the stools and attempted to lean on the barfront. Certain anatomical improbabilities made this uncomfortable, however, and they turned back to see their companion walking carefully across the floor.

"Betsy? Are you okay?" the redhead asked.

"Just about," Betsy replied in a very carefully controlled voice. "Jean, could you help me get to the changing rooms, please? I don't think it's medically safe for me to keep walking in this outfit..."

"Of course," Jean replied. She turned to Major Mapleleaf, who had worked in the bar for long enough now to be able to hide his reaction to the voluptuous women. "We'll be out of the changing rooms in a few minutes. The usual drinks, please?"

"Of course, Mrs Summers."

"Were those who I think they were...?" Alice asked, half- breathless with surprise.

"Jean, Betsy and Emma, yeah," Jubilee answered. "Stuck in a really bad fanboy story, by the looks of it."

<<Yeah, it's amazin' how far some of them younger writers'll go.>>

"You're telling me," she groaned in response. "Some of those 'Wolvie and Jubes' stories were totally gross." She stopped as she noticed the direction of Jono's gaze. "And stop drooling."

<<I ain't got a mouth, luv. I can't drool.>>

"Biokinetic fire, then. Whatever. It's still dribbling down your bandages."

<<Bite me.>>

Alice took a long sip of her drink. This could turn out to be a long night...

The broadly-built Canadian looked up at the sound of his name, spoken in a lilting voice of almost exquisite perfection, into the equally perfect face of the young woman who'd spoken. She was leaning against the bar in a subtly provocative way that brought almost irresistable attention to her lithe arms and divinely shaped breasts.

"Oh, hello Mary Sue. What can I get you?"

"Just some iced water tonight, thanks. I'm here on business."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Mind if I ask what sort of business?"

"No, of course not," she smiled, perching on a bar stool and unconsciously shifting her long blonde hair to a perfect russet-toned ponytail. "To be honest, I'm not really sure myself."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's not like you."

"Actually it quite often is, at least at my first entrance into a story." She accepted the drink and took a sip, her clothes shifting to a form-fitting yellow-and-gold spandex uniform. "All I can tell now is it's something to do with the new Writer who appeared tonight."

"Alice? The girl who came in with the newest GenX lot?"

"That's the one. I'm not really sure what's going to happen yet, but there's something a little different about this one. I'd like to be around to see what happens."

He considered for a moment. "You don't think there'll be any problems, do you?"

She laughed. "Oh I doubt it. Anyway, it can't be anything I won't be able to handle, could it?"

He smiled back. "No, I suppose not. I just hope we won't have to re-build the café again -- Logan and the pirates get annoyed if anyone interrupts their drinking sessions."

Alice didn't recognize either of them and resolved to start reading more fanfic than just the GenX stuff in the future. She turned back to the bar to get served, and found herself listening in to their conversation while she waited.

"You ask me this place is turning into a dump, Siku," one of them said. By the sound of the voice Alice assumed it was the green-haired woman. It was said aggressively enough. "What, don't these Writers have their own bar to go to?"

"I don't know," replied the girl. "I think it's nice to meet the Writers once in a while. Some of them are kinda fun."

"Once in a while, maybe. But all the time? They're here every night nowadays, telling their stories and putting the cafe through seven kinds of hell. This *used* to be a place where a fictive could take a break from all that. I thought that was what it was here for."

"I agree with you there," Siku replied. "I remember when we all used to sit down and catch up on what everyone was doing in their stories. But hardly anyone ever comes here anymore; I can't remember the last time I saw Dawn here, or Summer Ison." She sighed. "It's a bit sad, really, but things change."

"Usually for the worse."

"Oh, now that's a bit unfair, Misfire. They're a new crowd, that's all. They've got a new way of doing things and the cafe is changing to accommodate that, whether we like it or not."

"And the old stories get forsaken," Misfire replied. "Yeah, I've heard it all before."

Hearing this Alice was suddenly struck by the guilty memory of her own forsaken stories -- stories she had written a long time ago yet never had the guts to let anyone else read. They were her first ones, written barely a month after she started reading fanfic, and for a time she'd put her heart into them.

She could still remember them now. She had deliberately created two characters who were as far from the typical Mary Sue as she could think. Rather than being her age the two were adults, and the stories dealt with adult issues. They had jobs -- Julian Saunders a journalist, Erica Maloney a governor -- and they combined the trials and troubles of mutant powers with the daily grind of paychecks and bills and all the other things she could think of. And although on the surface they appeared to hate each other they were both deeply, madly, in love.

She'd spent countless hours in class dreaming of them, running through tales of adventure and romance that the two would get caught up in, spending long journeys lost in a world of two mutants in love. It was only when she put them down on paper and read through her words that she realized who they were.

Lois and Clark.

The parallels which she'd covered up in her head became obvious in stark black and white. The characters were the same, the plots re-workings of her favorite episodes and the situation was almost a complete copy of the show. So she'd dumped the whole lot, wiped the files and resolved to do better next time. But hearing these two talking about being left behind like this made her suddenly feel a sense of nostalgia for those old tales...

"So anyway, there we all were in the main dining hall with more empty bottles than I've ever seen in my life scattered around. Phil was dressed in full Rocky Horror regalia belting out rugby songs on the table, Dex was entwined with a legless Paige and a half-naked Jubilee, and Abyss was clinging to the chandelier trying to stop Monet from ripping his head off." He sighed. "And of course it had to be then that Ms. Frost and Mr. Cassidy walked through the door, didn't it?"

Alice sat down and handed round the drinks. "Sorry? Was this a GenX fic I missed?"

<<Not exactly, luv,>> Jono replied. <<The Brothers Drunk went on a pub crawl round Subreality and came knocking at our place near the end of it. Good night, all told.>>

"Brothers Drunk?" she asked, looking bemused.

"Other Writers," Ev replied. "They're a little...boisterous at times."

"Boisterous?!" Jubilee exclaimed. "Drunken flonquin' menaces to life-and-limb, more likely. Did you see what Dex did to my jacket?!"

"Did you say other Writers?" Alice interrupted.

"That's right. You're not the only one to come to the café, you know," Ev said. "Although those three do make more of an impression then most when they come. Boy could I tell you some stories..."

<<They ain't too bad, though, you gotta admit. Sure, they get a bit loud, but that's nothing compared to what some of the Muses get up to.>>

"Muses?" Alice asked, her face screwed up in confusion.

<<Yep. Muses. Calliope's half-deranged horde of inspirational Greek Gods and Goddesses.>>

"What, you mean like the Muses from Greek myth?"

<<That's right. The ones who inspire you Writers to come up with the stuff you write. What, haven't you got one yet?>>

"Uh, not that I know of."

Even though Jono couldn't actually grin, the tone of his voice carried his smile all to clearly. <<Oh, you will do, luv. You will do. I'd just hope you get someone good, if I were you.>>

"Uhm, what could happen if I don't?"

<<Ah, nuthin' too bad, I suppose. Acetal's sheep cause him a bit of grief every now and then, and the Captain's been known to get pretty strict with her Writers. An' o' course, you could get stuck with a pair like Ieuan an' Bronwyn.>>

"Who are they?"

Ev laughed. "A pair of Muses who Calliope teamed up a few years back for a Writer as some sort of joke. They spend ninety per-cent of the time arguing about how the story's supposed to go, which leaves their poor Writer stuck with more half-finished works than he can fit on his hard-drive. I must admit, though, I never knew there were that many ways to swear in Welsh."

Alice finished off her drink and stood up. "I think need a bit of fresh air. I'll be back in a while."

The gravel on the ground crunched beneath her feet, the sound crisp in the cool air. She breathed in deeply, letting the cold clear her head from the smoky atmosphere inside, just staring up at the blank sky and thinking. So this was where the characters went after the story ended? Well that certainly explained something. No wonder the characters seemed so real to her when she was writing -- in a funny way they *were* real, even outside the story. They existed outside the limits of her own head, outside the limits of the tales she wove with them. That made sense, after all she wasn't the only Writer to write a GenX story...

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of voices talking quietly nearby, and she stopped to listen, wondering who they were. Given some of the people she'd met here tonight they could be anyone.

The voices continued to talk quietly, coming from round the side of the building and, careful not to make too much noise, she padded closer. Getting near the corner of the building she caught a glimpse of two men standing in the shadows -- one of them she recognized as the large man on the door, the other, who she didn't recognize, had a shock of blond hair and a long brown trenchcoat. The smell of cigarette smoke was strong.

She felt a sudden pang of guilt at eavesdropping on their conversation, but ignored it to sit down on a rock just out of eyesight, carefully sipping a little more of her drink.

"...you an' me both, mate. Cheers." There was the sound of bottles being clinked together, followed by the glugging of bottles being emptied. "Ah, bottled Guinness. Can't beat it," the voice continued. "'nother?"

"Yeah," replied a deeper voice.

There was a further clinking of bottles and the sound of a match flaring, and then the first voice started again. "Beat the devil once with Guinness, ye know."

"Oh aye?"

"'s right. Drowned 'im in the stuff. Heh. 'Course it'd turned back to holy water by that point..."

"Probably worked better than Guinness would've."

There was a snort. "You'd be surprised, mate. There's some pretty powerful magic c'n be done with Guinness."

"Wouldn't know. Never bovered wiv magic meself."

There was a further pause as they both drank. "Best way, mate. Don't bother with it -- the price is always too high." He sighed, and his voice took on a melancholy tone. "I just wish some of the other bleedin' wankers who play with it realised that..."

Alice quietly got up and snuck off. This conversation sounded private. She walked over to the door of the café and stood in front of it for a moment, debating. She didn't need to go back in just yet, did she? And considering what she'd seen inside it might be worth taking a look around the grounds for a bit.

Making up her mind she turned around and walked away across the graveled area, taking another swig of her half-empty bottle as she did so. The night was cool, but not cold, and the fresh air was a pleasant change from the atmosphere in the pub. Picking a direction at random, she set off into the darkness.

She was five minutes away from the café when she began to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. There didn't appear to be anything beyond the café ground apart from darkness -- although without any stars or moonlight that was hard to prove -- and if she carried on much further in any one direction she might not be able to find her way back to the café.

Then she heard a noise somewhere off in the darkness, and a short burst of fear hit her. She stopped and listened intently for it to repeat itself, inwardly telling herself not to be stupid -- being scared of the dark was something she'd outgrown years ago. Finally, satisfied that whatever it was wouldn't repeat itself, she set off for the café again.

Then she heard it again, and stopped, her heart giving a little jump. 'This is silly,' she thought angrily at herself. 'I stopped being scared of the dark when I was a kid.' But then she heard it again, and for a split-second she felt four years old again, her brain populating the darkness with countless imaginary monsters waiting to eat her. The sound continued, getting louder...and then she felt an almost overwhelming burst of relief as the noise resolved into words. She'd been scared by nothing more than two other people stepping out for some air, like herself...

"...on, d'you really think she's ever going to..."

"...did I'd enjoy it. Think of the trouble we could cause her..."

"...would be worth it. She never cared about us anyway..."

"...needs her? We've got each other, isn't that..."

There was the sound of passionate kissing.

"...love you too, Julian Saunders..."

At the sound of the name her heart froze and a different type of memory flooded through her. Julian and Erica? Here? Of course, she realized -- if Jono, Ev and Jubilee were here, so would all the rest of the characters she'd created be around somewhere. Old stories flashing into her head, she ran forward to where the voices came from.

"Julian! Erica! I'm here!" she called out, interrupting the pair in a deep kiss. They broke apart and paused, astonishment on their faces.

"Alice...?" Erica breathed. "You're...here? In Subreality? How?"

"I...I don't know," she replied, drinking in the sight of the two of them, just how she remembered. Standing with their arms around each other, ready to take on the world and all it could throw at them. How many hours had she spent with them in her head? How many hours giving them lives and stories, letting them entertain her through long journeys and longer nights. "I...fell asleep, I think, and then was just...here..."

"Well..." Julian said, hesitantly. "I suppose, as a Writer, you'd get yourself here eventually." He cocked his head. "I take it you're still writing, then?"

"Oh yes! I've just finished a major story about some of the GenXers, and they brought me to the café and I just stepped out for some fresh air and...here you are." She moved towards them. "It's so good to see you again."

Erica stepped forward and took hold of her hand. "And it's good to see you again, Writer."

"So...do you want to come back to the café with me and meet everyone else?" As she spoke Alice began to feel a little light- headed. This night had started out a little odd, but had been getting better as it went on. And now to see these two again -- her first and favorite characters -- was more than a little overwhelming.

Erica smiled sadly. "I'm afraid not, dear. You see, Julian and me, we're not allowed in the café."

Alice frowned. "Why not? Is it the guy on the door? He was fine about letting me in, I'm sure he'd be okay about you two."

Erica's smile turned sharper. "Oh no, it's not the little Bouncer. Believe me, he's no problem for us. No, it's because we're UnWritten, you see."

"UnWritten?" Alice asked, her hand still being held by Erica.

"That's right," Julian continued. "You never really wrote us, did you? We only stayed in your head, and so we're not allowed in the café. No-one else has seen us, you see."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say. "I'm...sorry. I didn't realize..."

"No, you Writers rarely do, do you?" Erica said, her hand still holding Alice's. "You just think us up, let us run around inside your heads for a while, keeping you entertained, and then leave us out here when you've gotten bored with us."

"Huh?"

"You never think, do you? You never realize what happens when you invest all that energy into a fictive and then just dump them. You've no idea what it's like for us to be left wandering out here, nothing around but other UnWrittens, at best a small place in Shantytown to look forward to." Erica's eyes had hardened, and her smile had sharpened to an almost feral grin. Alice tried to pull her hand away.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "What can I say?"

"Say? Nothing," Julian said, his mouth mimicking the unpleasant smile of Erica. "What you can do is scream."

"What...?" Before she could finish the sentence she found herself lifted up into the air, energy crackling around her. She remembered -- she'd made him a telekinetic...

"What you did to us was unpleasant, oh 'Writer.' Now it's payback time."

For a moment she felt vaguely ridiculous. Had she ever written such bad dialogue for him as that? Then that thought left her as she was thrown to the ground again and she suddenly realized they were serious. Panic burst through her and she started to struggle, but was unable to break his TK hold.

"Wait a minute," she yelled, suddenly feeling stupid again. "This is just a dream. You can't hurt me in Dreams! It's just a story I'm telling myself at night! I'm the Writer! I control the story!"

"Oh no, little Writer." Erica's voice again, only somehow it sounded...different. Deeper, more like something she remembered from her childhood nightmares. "The Writer doesn't always control the story. Have you never had a character talk back? Have you never had

an unexpected piece of dialogue put a whole new plot twist in your tale?" She advanced towards Alice, hands glowing with energy.

"Well, this is the plot twist."

"The Writers aren't the only ones who control the story. You should know that," Julian added. Unable to help herself Alice started to scream as the two of them drew closer. A voice deep inside whispered to her. 'Perhaps you can get hurt in Dreams...'

And back at the café, Mary Sue paused in the middle of her conversation and cocked her head, eyes focussing on somewhere off into the distance. "Ah. So that's what it is, then," she breathed. She concentrated for a moment, and without transition the force holding Alice down was gone and she was running wildly across the open blackness.

"What?" Julian spat, looking around him to see what had happened. "How the hell did that happen?" His face had twisted up beyond recognition, eyes narrowed into slits and horns steepling out of his head.

"Does it matter, fool? Our quarry is escaping!" the thing that was once Erica hissed beside him. In a loping gait more like that of an animal the two of them set off after Alice.

She had known then that her parents were wrong. There *were* things in the darkness waiting for her, ready to clutch at her ankles the moment they were exposed. And she knew now that just forgetting about these terrors of childhood didn't make them go away. Up ahead she saw the cafe, a warm and welcoming oasis in the darkness around her and she sprinted as fast as she could for it. There were sounds behind her, like two wild creatures snuffling through the undergrowth. The wolves on the landing were coming to eat her.

With a last burst of speed she ran out onto the gravel and pelted across the open space to the door. The Bouncer stood out of his alcove as soon as he saw her and she nearly collapsed against him in relief.

"Hey, what 'appened to you? You shot outta there like a bleedin'..."

"...something...*uh* *huh*...out there..." she panted, pointing back to the darkness. "Oh God, that couldn't...*uh*... have been them..."

He held her up and looked over her shoulder at the BrowserPark until she regained her breath. Then he reached over and opened the door. "Right, head on in there, luv, get yerself a whisky or somethin'. You look like you could do with one." Nodding dumbly, she staggered through the door and into the warmth of the cafe.

Behind her the Bouncer stood, arms folded and shoulders pulled back, and watched as the two dark shapes shuffled across the open space towards him. "Right, lads. You got any ID on you?"

"You think to ssstopp usssss, little fictifffe?" the two voices hissed. "You would bar our entry, would you?"

"Sorry lads, if you ain't got any proper ID I ain't lettin' you in 'ere tonight. We got rules."

There was a rumble of hissing, like laughter. "Little fictiffe, you hafffe no power even in your own talessss. Would you think to sssstop ussss in this one? We still wear the powersssss of that little Writer-child'sss..." The black pair moved closer across the BrowserPark.

He almost grinned. "You reckon? Just 'cos a few Writers get past me, you reckon you can 'n all?"

"And how would you prevent ussss, little fictiffffe?"

He stepped forward. "Lemme tell you somethin', lads. I ain't a fictive, I'm the Bouncer fer this place. An' when I need to," he cracked his knuckles.

"I c'n do me job."

"Are you all right? You look a bit shocked about something."

"The B-Bouncer..." she stammered. "He's out there with..."

The bartender gave her a confused look. "The Bouncer? And who?"

"They...they...oh God it was horrible! I never thought... You need to do something..."

"About what?"

She turned round to look at the door and was about to reply when the door suddenly opened. Another burst of panic suddenly gripped her and she was about to shout when the Bouncer's head and shoulders appeared round the door. There was a burn mark on his jacket and a bruise developing on his face, but apart from that he looked the same as he had done before. He called out over the din towards the bar.

"Oy, Mapleleaf!" The bartender glanced up in acknowledgement. "Tell the Boss to get some cleaners, wouldja? There's a bit of a mess out 'ere that needs cleanin' up." With that he disappeared and the door shut behind him.

"Now," said the bartender. "What was that you were saying?"

"Um...I'm not sure," Alice replied, adrenaline still flowing through her system. "I think I'll just...go and sit down for a minute." She turned away from the bar to find Jono and the others, but was stopped by a woman standing right behind her. The woman was slightly taller than she was, with long black hair curling down towards her waist over her smooth black shirt. No, that wasn't right, the woman had blonde hair cut into a short bob and something that looked like a Star Trek uniform on -- no, she blinked again and the woman was wearing a uniform straight out of a medieval fantasy setting.

"Hello, Alice," the woman said in a melodic voice. "My name is Mary Sue. Can I speak to you outside for a moment?"

"That's right."

"I've heard of you, I think. You're...not exactly popular with most Writers."

Mary Sue smiled her perfect smile. "Don't believe everything you hear. It's not all true."

"Oh." She shivered, and glanced over her shoulder again. "Do we have to be outside?"

"I'm afraid so, yes," Mary Sue replied. "Oh don't worry about those two. The Bouncer took care of them. They won't bother you again. He's good at that." She flashed a brilliant smile over Alice's shoulder at the Bouncer, who returned it with his almost-grin.

"Oh."

There was a moment's silence as Alice stood, deep in thought, before Mary Sue interrupted. "So. You've seen the café, and taken a short look at some of what is around it. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" She bit her lip and thought for a moment. "I don't know. Really I don't. I mean, it's all such a bizarre idea -- that characters I write, I create, have lives outside the stories I give them. I mean, I spent so long trying to make a good story for the 'net, and then they turn around and chat to me like I'm their film director or something. It's a little -- unnerving, you know?"

The other woman laughed. "Yes, that's one way of looking at it, I suppose. It's funny really, most Writers seem to accept the place quite easily once they get used to it. Of course, you've seen some of the darker sides of it rather quickly -- most Writers never go outside the humor in these tales. But there's something different about you. I can't quite put my finger on it, which is unusual because I normally know everything about a situation as soon as I arrive in it."

"Really?" Alice paused again. "Well, I suppose you would really, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. But tonight's been a little -- different -- even going by the normal standards of this place. That's why I'd like to show you something. This tale needs an ending of a different sort. Would you walk with me a while?"

"Uh, sure. Where to?"

Mary Sue set off in an apparently random direction away from the café. "Oh, it doesn't matter really. Just somewhere away from the café -- it's too stable a place for what I want."

"Is it safe?" Alice asked, following the beautiful woman.

"Oh yes, perfectly safe. You're with me."

"Oh." There was a moment's silence before Mary Sue spoke again.

"Do you know who I am, Alice?"

"I think so, yes. You're Mary Sue. You're the character all the first-timers write when they're new to fanfic, the one where they basically put themselves into the story. The character they use to, well, write a wish-fulfillment story, basically. The one who does all the right things, and falls in love with the author's favorite character and generally annoys the hell out of most fanfic readers by being too all-round perfect all the time." She stopped, realizing what she'd just said. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be offensive."

Mary Sue laughed. "Don't worry about it. That's a perfectly valid opinion, and far more politely put than many others have done." She stopped walking and turned back towards where the café was, now no more than a dim light on the horizon. "And it's true, in a way. If it wasn't for Susan that would probably be all there was for most Writers to see. But that's what I want to show you, Alice."

"What?"

"What else there is. Of me. Of the café. And of everything else here in this place where dreams overlap each other." She turned towards Alice, an odd light coming from her eyes.

"I am Mary Sue," she said, her voice deeper and more sonorous, echoing through the surrounding darkness. "I am the Reader as she reads a new story. I am the budding Writer, re-shaping the tale to my own whims. I am the love that exists for a character, a place, a world.

"Wherever a Reader reads a new tale and falls in love with the characters, I'm there. Wherever the budding Writer first dreams up a new ending to the story, I'm there in their head. Wherever a tale is so well written that it sinks into the minds of others, planting little ideas of its own waiting to burst forth in their mind, I'm there."

The light from her eyes was growing brighter, hanging like delicate jewels in the air around them. "You see, stories are like dream-spaces -- worlds of their own that float around inside our minds. To read a new tale is to enter that world, to see inside the dream-space of another mind for a fraction of a second. And in that instance where the two separate worlds of Writer and Reader combine, something new is born. Often it dies. Often those buds which bear fruit live on only inside the mind of the Reader. But sometimes those new worlds and stories are Written, and they in turn will intersect other dreamers. And I am there."

She gestured around with her arms. "Around you is Subreality, Alice. Around you is the space where a thousand worlds collide, combine and pull apart. Around you is the result of a thousand dream-spaces diving through and among one another in an endless ballet of tales, stories and half-remembered dreams."

"And the café?" Alice asked.

Mary Sue smiled, her teeth gleaming brilliantly in the magical light. "The café exists on the edge, in the gaps between worlds. That's why I had to bring you out here to show you what I'm going to show you -- the café is on the Outside of it all, one of the four free houses that serve no allegiance to anyone."

"What are you going to show me?"

Mary Sue raised her arms up high. "Subreality," she replied.

The lights surrounding them grew brighter, and deeper, and Alice found herself almost mesmerized by the sight. Trickling points of crystal, falling through the air like stardust, or sand through outstretched fingers. A colourful maze of light patterns like being inside the heart of a living diamond.

And in the flow of colour she began to see shapes taking place, shadow-forms flickering through the smoke-fire iridescence. A computer terminal surrounded by coffee cups and cigarette ends, a figure outlined in the flickering glow, fingers working fast and furious on the keyboard. A tatty notebook jammed into a back pocket, covered with scribblings and hurried writing. A woman slumped half-asleep in a lecture theater, eyes drifting off to worlds far beyond the one she was presently in.

A pile of coke cans in a university lab. The caffeine-induced buzz overpowered by the far stronger buzz of creativity. Words tumbling half-formed across a small laptop in an airplane seat. Eyes gazing through a car window oblivious to the surrounding scenery.

And beyond that...

And beyond that...

And beyond that she saw figures dancing in the shadows. Stories rippling through the Writer's eyes. Fingers working ever faster as the tale told itself through the author -- a process far more intimate than the reading of the tale would ever be. She saw thousands of worlds interweaving, feeding off each other, one thought-space bouncing through another and leaving in its wake the silent seeds of a hundred new tales.

Kitty Pryde, when she was trapped in her phased state, in a mental conversation with Betsy that never happened in the comics. Timelost New Mutants on the starship Enterprise, breaking free of the prison cell to run amok across the ship. The three Fates of Gaiman's tales, offering priceless words of wisdom to a young woman seeking the Dream Lord.

John Constantine in Paris, spouting bile at the frail figure of Joan of Arc. An aged Bobby Drake re-telling cherished memories to a group of new children, all dressed in the yellow-and-black bumblebee outfits of the original X-men.

And through it all the laughing figure of Mary Sue, touching minds here and there, dancing wildly from Reader to Reader as each one of them read a tale anew and thought 'I could do this...'

And Mary Sue turned to her and said

"Welcome to the show, Alice. Welcome to the show."

"WELCOME TO THE SHOW."

She shot upright in bed, the sudden burst of the music waking her from her half-sleep. Deliriously she glanced across at the clock. 3:32, and she really needed to get some sleep. Rubbing her hand across her face she leaned over and turned the stereo off and slumped back into bed, mind still awash with flickering images and dream-shapes.

Within seconds she was drifting back into sleep. Behind her eyes, in the blackness of the night, stories danced across the open spaces in her head. Tales long forgotten, fantasies and dreams, people and places too miraculously real to ever exist. And one small café on the edge of everything, with Jono and Jubilee and Everett inside, sitting round a table and waiting for their Writer to re-appear...

Various characters used in this fiction do not belong to myself. In some cases that's probably a very good thing. ;) Below is a detailed list of exactly who belongs to who in this fic (or as near as I could get). On the whole these characters are used without permission, and much as I'd like to get some cash out of it I'm not making any profit or recognisable gain from writing this.

Except maybe a bit of an ego-boost from the feedback.

Jubilee, Wolverine, Everett, Paige and Jono all belong to Marvel Comics.
Alice the Writer belongs to me. Ask if you want to use her.
Merv Pumpkinhead, Abudah, Tiny all belong to Vertigo comics, although I think creative rights to them still belong to Neil Gaiman.
The Court of Miracles is a round robin tale currently stored on the Subreality Café archive -- and boy am I annoyed at missing that one.
The Bouncer, IIRC, was originally called back to the café by Falstaff.
Major Mapleleaf, again, I think was the responsibility of Falstaff.
The Legacy Concert was a story written by Jaymz Grey. Least said the better ;)
Jean, Emma, Betsy and Scott also belong to Marvel Comics.
Mary Sue: not sure who first coined the name, but I think we all agree she doesn't really belong to any of us.
Misfire, as if any of you didn't know, was introduced by Kielle in her epic "Vertigo: No Way Up." So when's the next multi-parter coming out then? ;)
Sikudhani McCoy, mainstay of the café in the earlier days, was invented by the talented Darkstar.
Lois & Clark; dredging back through the depths of memory the original Superman was created by Siegle & Schuster, or two names sounding similar to that. Anyway, nowadays the comic characters belong to DC. Not too sure about the TV show rights, though.
Phil. Primarily I belong to myself, although the inventor of Guinness possesses a large part of my soul.
Dex belongs to himself, with significant input from his libido.
Abyss belongs to himself, although the slippers are negotiating legal rights at the moment.
Monet and Sean Cassidy are again two of Marvel's.
Calliope was introduced in the round robin "TapSlaught."
Acetal also has primary rights to himself.
Acetal's Sheep belong to him. Much as he tries to deny it.
The Captain is sole property of Yasmin. Or is that the other way around?
Ieuan & Bronwyn are, unfortunately, my Muses. It seems like I'm stuck with them for the time being.
John Constantine belongs to Vertigo.
Shantytown was discovered by Dea, and as such she retains the property rights.
The 'four free houses, which hold allegiance to no-one' were introduced by Neil Gaiman in Sandman: The World's End -- easily the best novel in the Sandman series. He named two of them -- "The Inn at the End of the World" and "The Toad and Stone." I'm claiming the café as the third -- any ideas what the fourth one is?
Kitty Pryde and the New Mutants -- yep, some more of Marvel's.
The Starship Enterprise belongs to whoever it is who owns the Star Trek series; Paramount, isn't it?
The three fates mentioned are the three ladies Gaiman introduced in the Sandman, along with his superb creation, Morpheus the Dream Lord. As such they all belong to him.
Bobby Drake and the X-Men -- to finish off, another group of Marvel's.

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