All of a sudden, there's pain. I realise I'm lying on the ground, my chest aching, my face pressed up against the cold tiled floor.

As my brain comes into focus, I gasp and jerk upwards.

I-I'm alive!

How?! How am I alive?! I'm in the Smithsonian…right?

I look around. I can see exhibits around me, just like New York, but I can tell this isn't the New York museum. This IS the Smithsonian. So how am I alive? The tablet is back home in New York.

…isn't it?

No, I decide. Clearly it's here. It has to be here or I wouldn't be alive. Nothing else can bring exhibits to life.

As I attempt to stand up, I wince. My muscles are very stiff; they've clearly not been used in a couple of years at least. That means it's been two or three years since I left New York. And two or three years since I left Ahk.

In this moment, I wish I hadn't come to life again. I would rather be a statue with no feelings than be alive with the feeling of a broken heart. My chest is aching at the thought of my beloved, alone in the museum. I wonder how the others are treating him. Teddy, Attila, Dexter, Jed, Octavius. How would they react to him? I wish I could be there for him.

I inhale deeply, hold my breath for a few seconds, and then release it. There is no point in wishing. It is what it is; I am here and he is there.

I look up at my surroundings. So this is the infamous Smithsonian. It's a lot bigger than New York, and the exhibits aren't restricted to just wax figures. There are all sorts of statues and weird creatures roaming the halls. I find myself captivated by a massive bronze statue walking past, his head almost brushing the ceiling. It's like a whole different world. I wonder if Neil felt like this when he-

My heart almost stops again.

I can't believe I hadn't realised until now.

Neil.

My best friend, Neil Armstrong, is HERE! He was transferred to the Smithsonian before me, so there's a huge chance that he's here! I-I have to find him!

I take off running, my muscles loosening up more and more with every step. As I run, I can't help feeling a sense of freedom. I haven't been able to run like this in years, even before I was transferred here. Most of the time when I ran back in New York, I was running away from something. Here, I am running because I want to. I have a desperate desire to find my best friend and hug him tightly. He'll be the only connection I have back to New York, but more than that, I've missed him a lot. He was the first real friend I had in New York, not counting Teddy. We developed more of a friendship in a few days than Teddy and I did in fifty years. I need to find him.

But instead of finding Neil, what I find is a diorama. It looks like a Viking diorama. It's the same size and shape as the Roman and Wild West exhibits back in New York, and like them, it's alive with activity. Miniature Vikings are bustling round their exhibit, clearly confused and a little disorientated. The museum is coming to life for the first time. I know what that feels like.

As I watch, I suddenly hear a scream. Whirling round, I duck as a large bird of some kind swoops over my head. I catch a glimpse of something in the bird's grip. My blood runs cold as I realise it's a miniature.

I take off after the bird. I can still hear the miniature screaming. It sounds like a woman's scream, though it could just as easily be a man. I know I can't let this miniature come to any harm; they are small and are more prone to getting in danger. It is my moral duty to protect them, even if they don't want it.

The bird is getting away. I can't let that happen. So I grab what looks like a helmet from a nearby exhibit and throw it as hard as I can at the bird, scoring a direct hit. Caught off-guard, the bird screeches and starts plummeting, the miniature slipping from its grasp. I angle myself underneath them and manage to catch the miniature as it falls into my hand. In case the bird decides to come back for the miniature, I close my hands around the small person and run as fast as I can away from there.

I slow down as I feel a stitch hit my side. I almost fall onto the side of a fountain in the middle of the room and collapse against it, panting heavily. I hold my hands at neck-level and slowly open them, revealing the miniature, who looks to be unconscious.

It IS a woman; a blonde-haired Viking woman. She looks young; perhaps twenty years old. She is wearing a brown tunic, brown and white furry boots, and a helmet with curved horns on it. White fur cover her entire arms. I lift her up a little closer to my face, and that's when I spot a broadsword hanging from a sheath on her belt.

All in all, she looks like a very formidable warrior.

I gently shake my hands. "Hello?" I mutter.

The Viking stirs, her eyes fluttering open. She registers me, and her eyes widen. "Giant!" she gasps, reaching for her sword.

"Wait, wait!" I quickly protest. "I'm friendly! Do you remember what happened?"

She pauses, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "With the giant falcon?"

I'm not entirely sure the bird was a falcon, but I nod. "It tried to fly away with you. I knocked it out of the sky and saved you."

I expect her to disbelieve me. That's why I'm surprise when she stands up on shaky legs and gives me a bow. "I am grateful, madam," she says gracefully.

This change in temperament surprises me. "I… You're welcome. What's your name?"

Again, she surprises me by changing her temperament for a second time. She stands up straight, lets out a battle cry, draws her broadsword, and holds it aloft. "I am Brynhild Ketilsdottir!" she bellows. "Warrior, daughter of the greatest fighter to ever live!" She pauses and gives me a friendly smile. "What is YOUR name, giant lady?"

I blink a few times, taken aback. "F-Florence Nightingale. I'm a nurse."

"A woman as a medic!" Brynhild looks both scandalised and impressed. "With whom did you sleep to get that position?"

I feel anger swell up inside me. "Nobody!" I snap angrily. "I earned it myself, by working hard!"

Brynhild held up her hands quickly. "I-I apologise. I did not mean to offend. It is simply that my cousin became a medic but she seduced the chief's son in order to gain the position."

"That's disgusting."

"I agree," Brynhild sighs. "So what is this place?"

I bite my lip. This Viking is about to receive a massive shock.