The Universe's Mixer

In spite of his best efforts, Watson had not been able to find Buffy. He'd been back to the janitor's closet with water and a muffin, but she hadn't been up in the ceiling. He'd checked. Not well - he hadn't gone crawling about - but he'd peeked up into the space above the tiles and hadn't seen any signs of her. She'd either come down, or she'd crawled off to a place where she couldn't hear him calling her name.

From there, he'd been at a loss. He'd wandered a little, but she hadn't been in the room with the televisions, nor had he spotted her down at the cafeteria. Perhaps they'd found her? She might be up in her room, drugged and unable to move. Or she might've gotten free.

Watson preferred the latter. He'd just decided to go with that theory, as unlikely as it may have been, when a nurse spotted him coming around the corner. "Where are you headed, dear?" The nurse was an older woman, nearing sixty and gray. John didn't much care for being coddled, but he decided not to argue. "I'd like to see the courtyard. Some fresh air, yeah?"

"You're headed the wrong way," the woman said. "Let me show you."

And so John had followed the nurse down into the open area reserved for patients. John briefly smiled his thanks and wandered off to get a look around. He hadn't been the only one with the idea - a few other people were enjoying the fresh air, too. With a reluctant sigh, John moved over to a bench and sat down next to a woman.

He was ready to be out of there.