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[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

They say you can never come home again.

A blue figure stands outside the door, shape uncertain under a baggy trenchcoat. Is he Ramon Darkholme, European Assassin, or is she Raven Howlett, mother and wife?

A hand reaches for the knocker, pauses, and falls away. A deep breath later, eyes closed, the hand closes over the knob instead.

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[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

He's paused to light up a fresh stogie. After the crazy shit that just went down earlier with freakin' duplicates and people being from some kind of alternate universe, he needs the nicotine to try and slow his racing thoughts down, even if the effect's only temporary. Blood stains his clothing, torn and shredded from the night's activities.

And more surprisingly: He's still alive. They're both still alive, even. He wasn't expecting to make it 'till dawn. And yet, here they are. He exhales a deep blue-gray cloud, watching Ramon's huddled form in the light drizzle that's now falling from the sky.

And still, the question keeps coming back to this: Where do they go from here?

[http://users.livejournal.com/_steelmagnolia_/]

She couldn't take it any longer.

The safehouse was safe but it was also very, very boring. Marion was worried about her father and... her father. It had taken her hours and hours to get back here. She wasn't even sure where the safehouse had been to start with.

Opening the door, she isn't expecting to see anyone at all.