The Universe's Mixer

Simon had brought him to the hospital. It had been a nice walk, on a nice day. There were a lot of birds out, and not too many people in pain. Needing him.

Not along the way, anyway.

John couldn't really remember ever being in a hospital. Simon had said that there were people there who would need him, need help. But he just hadn't expected it to be on such a large scale. From the moment he walked into the door, it was there, all around him. And now that he knew it was here, he knew that he wouldn't be able to ever forget it unless he did something.

He'd walked away from Simon, not listening to the calls and exclamations coming from behind him as he made his way into the hospital. There were a lot of people here, more than half of them needed him. But there were certain ones who needed him more than others. He felt their pain. He felt them calling to him silently.

There was an intersection, he stared at a wall and to his left was the cancer wing. To his right, the burn ward. The pull from both sides was just as strong. For a moment, he didn't know which way to turn. Then he felt it. The blackness of somebody dying.

John Coffey turned right. He moved down the hallway slowly, but with purpose. He found the door of the room where the dying person was. He opened it to the protest of the nurses inside.

"I can help." He said softly. His eyes gaining that glimmer of intelligence.

There wasn't anybody in the room that could hold him back. He was too large, and too determined to be stopped. He could feel the pain from the figure on the bed. It wasn't too late. He had just enough time.

Carefully, John sat on the edge of the bed and looked into the half closed eyes behind bandages.

"It's okay." He told the figure. "You'll be okay."

There was very little skin to be seen. John placed a massive hand as gently as he could on the cheek of the person wrapped up beside him. The eyes opened, fully aware now. Looked directly at him. There was no pain in them. Not now. Not while he was so close. Not while he was sharing like this. He bent forward, placing his face close to the small slit in the bandages where the nose and mouth were, to allow breathing.

And then he inhaled.

Mel's big blue eyes were narrowed and very, very determined. Forget the giant leprechaun guy. Forget it. Let's, she thought, deal with the complete craziness that was the city paper.

She'd picked up a copy on her way home, backpack slung over both shoulders, a soft pretzel in her hand and intermittently in her mouth, in large gobs. She was reading it when she got back to her apartment. It said 'soldier on.'

Mel had laughed out loud. But it got even ruttin' better: It has been recommended that if you discover a friend or family member missing that you report it. The City Police would like a clear record of all those who can't be found.

Well, shit. Really. The article said that Snow White was gone, and Bigby Wolf, too. Mel was pretty sure that was Rose's Bigby. And she was damn sure that was Rose's Snow.

She threw down the backpack, shoved the rest of the pretzel in her mouth in a very unladylike chunk that she could not close her mouth around, and she went back out.

Took no time to get to the police station, and when she got there, Mel leaned on the counter assertively, little elbows resting on the surface.

"Help you?"

Melaka Fray stood up straight. The green braid in her hair fell over her shoulder. And with the same sense of loss she'd felt when she lost Loo, when she knew that Harth was..... well, what he was... she nodded.

"I need to report someone missing," she said.