Titus stretched uncomfortably, trying to get used to his new height. The cookie Marie had given him had reduced him to a mere seven feet eight inches of height, and his build hadn't changed at all, but it was four feet he wasn't used to missing. He'd switched to a spare set of clothing that had been shrunken with the same concoction. "You're sure people don't grow as large as I do here?"

Borug laughed in his flat tone. "People do not grow as large as you back home either, Titus. You are an anomaly no matter where you go."

Titus shot a glare in his direction, but the shapeshifter was already on a different track. "Claire, you know this place better than we do. Where is a place that we can set a base up?"

Claire was messing with some of her fried technology, dismantling several of the devices and trying to figure out what she could salvage. She winced at the question as if she'd been dreading it. "Well... yeah, technically, but I don't think we can go there. Besides, I'm not even sure she owns the apartment anymore. There's a chance that it doesn't belong to her anymore, so it's probably a better idea to find somewhere else."

Marie squinted at her. "Claire, what and who the carkin' gob are you talking about?"

Pulling a spare shirt out of his Docket and pulling it on, Titus asked, "You seem nervous about something. Are you all right?"

Claire sighed. "Okay, my mom used to live in an apartment not too far from here. It's been more than twenty years since I... well, I don't know what happened, but whatever it is that chucked me into Kellaris happened."

Borug's eyes widened. "You arrived in a foreign world at the age of twelve?"

She sighed heavily. "I... had a hard time coming to terms with what happened. I spent a lot of time figuring out how to survive on my own." Her expression darkened, and her companions fell silent. "We don't have time to talk about that."

"I wondered why you avoided that topic," Borug contemplated.

Marie strode over and wrapped Claire in a hug. "Aww, hun, you've been through a lot. What you need is some quality food in your stomach and a good rest. If your ma's anything like you, we'll be in good hands."

"But she might not even be there anymore!" Claire protested, unsuccessfully trying to pry herself out of Marie's grip. The older woman had wrestled bears before - Claire wasn't exactly a fair match.

Borug coughed gently. "Might I remind you two that we are in fact in a foreign world? Claire, what kind of threats can we anticipate?"

Marie released Claire from the bone-crushing hug, and Claire took a moment to catch her breath. "All right, there's no intelligent species aside from humans I know of here, so long as this is the same New York and not some weird version. There's no magic, there's no shapeshifting - everything's based around technology, including their weapons." She paused. "Huh. I never really thought of people as... them, I guess."

Titus raised an eyebrow. "No magic at all?"

Clarie shook her head. "Nope. Just to clarify, when I say technology, I don't mean my grade of gear. The most advanced thing they had when I... left... was a railgun. It launched chunks of metal at high speeds, but they couldn't turn it very far, it took too much power to use consistently, and firing it too many times would end up breaking it."

A toothy smile spread across Borug's face. "You're making this sound easy."

"Hardly," Claire continued. "Because they also invented guns. Think small pieces of lead shaped specifically to tear through people, and pretty much anyone can buy one depending on the laws of the place you're in."

Titus nudged her. "That does sound dangerous, but I thing we should focus on the task at hand. Do you remember exactly where your mother lives?"

Claire shrank somewhat. "Well, yeah, but I don't know if she even lives there anymore."

Borug nodded agreeably. "Yes, so you've said. Regardless, a chance gives us higher odds than simply traipsing around New York indefinitely. That is what it's called, correct?" He clarified, inently watching Claire for confirmation. When she nodded, he added, "Wouldn't you agree?"

She hesitated, and Marie slapped her shoulder, giving it an affable squeeze. "Oh, c'mon honey. What's the worst-case scenario as far as you can see it?"

Claire stared at the ground. "She doesn't recognize me."

Titus promptly denied the possibility. "Claire, d'you remember that old hobgoblin way out in the Lygrall woods? The one who lost all of his gobbles in a raid."

She snorted loudly. "They're just called baby goblins, Titus."

He kept going. "Nicest hob we'd ever met, almost thought he was trying to trick us at first. Six months go by and we manage to find the gobbles, except they're not gobbles anymore. They were a full warband of goblins. Ring a bell?"

Claire sighed. "Of course I remember. We told them he was waiting for them and they left their weapons behind in their hurry."

He nodded. "So you remember when they got back and he knew all of them by name?"

She raised her hands. "Okay, okay, I get it. But this is different."

Borug lifted a finger, forestalling Titus' response. "Think about it like this, Claire. We have no more probable option than to hopefully rely on your mother, circumstances aside. I'll even go in first."

Claire considered it for a moment, and her shoulders slumped. "Fine. Follow me. And try not to attract any attention."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sidewalk was too small.

Titus felt a tic rising in his forehead as he bumped into someone for the fifth time. His response was the same as the previous four; he looked up in irritation, almost said something, saw Titus' bulk, and shut up. It was a familiar response, although most of the people back home knew Titus by sight, whether they'd met him before or not.

The vehicles rushing by, horns blaring and wheels squealing, were beginning to give Titus a headache. In fact, the whole city was getting to him. It was loud, the air tasted foul, and the few bursts of color on the crowded shops lining the road were doing nothing to improve his mood. Hopefully, Claire's mother's house would be a better place than these.

Claire stopped walking. "All right, we're here."

Slowly turning to the building she was looking up at, Titus resisted a groan. It was a block shoved between more blocks, identical windows placed at even intervals. The whole building was the same soulless gray shade, and Titus could already feel his head getting sore imagining the low ceilings inside. "You're sure?"

She nodded morosely, and Borug straightened his suit. "Well," He calmly stated. "It's far from the worst place we've ever been in. Is the interior a match to its shell?" He asked Claire, and she nodded again. A tiny sigh left Borug's mouth, but he walked forward and opened the double doors. "Ladies first."

Marie happily dusted her boots off and went in. Claire followed suit, and Titus paused in front of the doors. His head was a full foot higher than the stop. Borug gave him a brief glance of sympathy, and he walked in.

An unidentifiable smell pervaded the lobby, most likely related to the equally unidentifiable stains in the patterned carpet. The walls were painted a peeling shade of dull yellow, and long-dead ferns sat along the sides of the almost empty room. Claire was already talking to the shaggy-haired man behind the counter, whose expression of boredom died the moment Titus and Borug entered. Standing, he called in a squeaky voice, "No weapons!"

Borug raised his hands, palms facing outward. "I am unarmed."

The smaller man glanced at Titus. "What about those guns?" A stupid smile crossed his face, and Titus closed his eyes, trying to stay calm.

Claire waved a hand in front of the doorman's face. "Hey, does she still live here?"

He blinked, returning his attention to her. "What? Yeah, she's up there. Same room. Barely leaves ever since her kid kicked the bucket, though I wouldn't talk to her about that if I were you. Kind of a touchy subject, y'know?"

Claire winced. "I can imagine."

Borug moved forward, his flat brown eyes fixed on the doorman. "How long ago was this?"

With gossip on the table, the doorman's attitude changed entirely. Leaning forward, he theatrically whispered, "Almost two years now. She got the police involved, but they never found a body. Some people say she's the one that did it, and tried to throw suspicion off by callin' the police. 'Course, most people won't hire a private detective after that, so who knows?"

Claire's hand clenched into a fist beneath the counter. "Is that what you think?"

The doorman continued, oblivious to the danger he was in. "Nah, she's cool. Me, I think it was aliens."

Borug blinked. "Aliens?"

He nodded seriously. "Sure thing. No one's ever seen them, but kids don't just disappear, right? No trace of her left behind. Kidnappers from outer space, that's what I think."

Claire nodded, turning around so the doorman couldn't see her expression. "Right. Thanks for the help."

Their group headed towards the marked staircase, and the doorman called after them, "Oh, and if you ever want to talk about it, I'm right here!"

Giving him a tight smile, Claire closed the door behind them and started trembling. Marie immediately wrapped her in a hug. "Sorry you had to hear that, hun."

Taking deep breaths, Claire managed to say, "Two years. I wasn't even sure she was still alive, and - This was a mistake."

She turned to leave, but Titus put a hand on her shoulder. "Claire, if you had a daughter, do you think you'd stop looking for her?"

"Of course not!" Claire exclaimed, startled by the sudden question. She froze as she realized what he was implying, and her shoulders slumped. "I... I get it. I just don't think I'm ready for this."

"That's okay, hun." Marie soothed her. "Borug's gonna go in first. Right?"

Borug nodded. "Certainly. I'll explain it as tactfully as I can."

Titus patted her back, unsure of how to contribute to the issue. Getting herself together, Claire weakly smiled. "Thanks again. I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

"I don't know what you'd do without us either," Borug stated. "But you do have us, so you should at least take advantage of that fact."

Claire nodded, steeling her nerves. "Right. Let's do this."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Borug was certainly ready.

A flight of stairs and a short hallway later, they were standing in front of a nondescript door marked two-twenty-one. Claire looked like she was on the verge of panic. "I'm definitely not ready for this."

Borug gracefully stepped forward and promptly knocked. Claire almost dove to one side, scrambling to avoid the door. Titus and Claire walked out of the way.

The door opened a moment later, and Borug was greeted by an aging woman. Gray streaks adorned her brown hair, and the shallow wrinkles on her face spoke of premature wear. She was dressed in sweatpants and a baggy gray shirt. Looking Borug up and down with a critical eye, she warily asked, "Do you need something?"

Borug nodded crisply. "Yes. I have information regarding your daughter I'd like to discuss with you. May I come-"

He was cut off as she practically dragged him inside, eyes wide. "You know something about Claire? Is she all right?"

Borug carefully extricated himself from her grip, closing the door behind him and examining the entry with a critical eye. The walls were painted a sleepy shade of beige, with few decorations at all. A table with four chairs was at one end of the room, next to a pair of windows staring out at the alleyway behind, and a flat black object sat atop the mantle above a strange-looking fireplace. "Ma'am, I'm simply here to inform you of a few important things. And-" He gave her a polite smile. "Where are my manners? My name is Bors Devonson."

She nodded rapidly. "I'm Abby, Abby Wilkins. Can you please tell me more? Is she all right?"

Moving over to the chairs, Borug sat down and indicated another. "I'm afraid the situation is quite a lot more complicated than a yes or no, although I assure you she's in good health. Would you please sit down? This may be... stressful."

Abby sat down, staring at him wide-eyed as she wringed her hands. "So she's fine? Where is she?"

Borug stared at her evenly, waiting for her to calm down. Her stress switched to anger in a fraction of a second. "You're talking about my daughter when she's been missing for twenty months, Bors! Twenty months! If you have something to say, TELL ME!"

She'd stood up as she spoke, and her face flushed red. He patiently waited, and after a few moments, she sat down. Clearing his throat, Borug said, "Mrs. Wilkins-"

"Miss," She interrupted with a dark expression. "And call me Abby." Borug read her face and winced internally. "My apologies, Miss - Abby. I don't have children. I... don't quite understand the feeling."

Abby gradually composed herself, and then almost began crying. "Please. Just tell me what happened."

Borug pulled himself up straight. "I have to tell you, miss Abby, this may sound somewhat impossible. If I'm being completely honest I considered it impossible up until a few hours ago."

"Get to the point." Her voice was forceful, but she didn't shout this time. Borug suddenly realized that his mindset and hers were entirely different, and that he should probably get to the point before she attacked him.

Clearing his throat, he calmly said, "Your daughter was transported via presently unknown means to another universe called Kellaris, where she spent two decades more-or-less saving the world as an artificer to an elite group, until the king of the country decided to banish her, whereupon she and three of her companions were brought here."

Abby stared at him for a full five seconds, then placed her head in her hands. "I suppose you're here for money."

Borug shook his head. "Hardly. As a matter of fact, Claire requested that I speak to you instead. She expressed a good amount of anxiety when she talked about meeting you."

Abby lifted her head with an almost dead look in her eyes. It was an expression Borug had seen in beggars and criminals back in Kellaris, during his early days as a spy. It was a face that had had its hopes lifted and then broken beyond repair. "Please leave my house."

Borug raised his hand and very calmly turned it into gel. Abby jerked out of the chair and stumbled back, eyes wide. "Wh-what? What is that!?"

Borug stood up, returning his hand to normal. "I'm one of her companions. I also happen to be a shape-shifter, which as I understand is a fictitious creature in your mythology."

Disbelief warred with shock on Abby's face before she steeled herself. "So Claire's really alright?"

He found sincere admiration building up inside him. She knew what her priorities were and organized them appropriately. "Yes, although she's thirty-two years of age at the moment." Borug felt a brief moment of hesitation as he said it, and then dismissed the feeling. He was talking to her mother; age was hardly a sensitive topic.

Abby's eyes narrowed. "What you said earlier, about her being nervous."

"Yes?"

"I don't believe you."

Borug sighed, but before he could say anything, she continued. "If you'd ever met my daughter, you'd know she wasn't afraid of anything."

I've known her longer than you have, Borug nearly said. Years of self-control stopped him. "Miss Abby, I've seen Claire face down full-grown dragons with hesitation. She's saved my life on more occasions than I can name. She's defused political nightmares that even I wouldn't touch. Rest assured, I am under no scruples as to Claire's bravery. I may possess abilities she doesn't, but in my opinion she is superior to myself in many ways." He didn't raise his voice. If Claire heard any of this she'd never let him hear the end of it. "But I suspect that this requires bravery of a different kind."

Abby pointed a shaking finger at him. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Borug shrugged. "You don't. Ironically, I can honestly say I have many secrets and a number of lies." He stood up to leave, walking towards the door. "Claire, on the other hand, does not."

Pulling the door open, he yanked the young woman who had her ear to the door into the room, giving her a nod. "I'll see you in a few moments, Claire." Spinning around her, the last thing he saw before the door shut was Claire's stunned expression.

Turning to Titus and Marie, he smiled. "I think I handled that quite well, all things considered."