The Universe's Mixer

Book was still digesting all that had been revealed to him. He’d learned a great deal in his conversation with the young man, Jesse Custer. Wasn’t exactly settling, but it was enlightening. How was he to exist in such a place?

But then, hadn’t been all that long ago that he’d been asking himself that very question after landing in the midst of a certain crew. Seemed like a lifetime ago now. Also seemed like a bit of a cakewalk in comparison to this place. After all, a few crimes were easier to deal with than the fact that there was a section of The City where color simply ceased to exist. There’d been many a time on Serenity where he’d prayed for patience and guidance. Here, he didn’t even know what he was praying for. ( Just that he was praying. )

Jeannie was pleased as punch. Tickled pink. Which was most convenient, since pink was her favorite color and she was very fond of punch. Especially the kind that made her tipsy. She felt rather tipsy, even though she had not had anything to drink. She was just that happy.

( She had a master again! Sort of. )

There was a girl somewhere in the house that Ted had saved.
Ted had saved.
The words still felt absurd and irregular in his mind. He didn't even dare say them out loud. He'd have to, he knew, once Charlie came home, because Charlie would want to know. But until then? Ted was just going to keep the phrase to himself.

He didn't know where the woman was. The blind woman. He'd left her in his bedroom, pointed her in the vague direction of the attached bath, not wanting to think about the implications of that at the moment, and left her to her own devices. She could still be trying to get clean. Blindly (no pun intended) trying to find where he kept things. But he would have been no help there, really, because it was all still new to him, too. He'd be going through cabinets just as much as she was, and he'd be in the way on top of it. Or, she might have decided to lay down in his bed. That was okay, he supposed. Anybody who has gone through what she did deserved to sleep some.

He supposed it was their fault, his and Charlie's, that there wasn't a spare room with a spare bed where she could go instead of his room. On his bed. With his sheets. Ted sighed.

What he was going to do, he was going to just go into the kitchen and try to put together a meal for her. She'd probably be really hungry whenever she was done with whatever she was doing, and he wanted to have some good assortment for her. But nothing hot, not too hot, or too cold. He knew what the shock of a first meal after a large shock - IE going to prison - would feel like if it were just a sandwich. Nobody needed soup or ice cream to double that. But juice would be good, he was sure. She needed juice. Or maybe Gatorade. Maybe that would be better. Electrolytes and whatever.

Ted took one step into the kitchen and stopped. Staring. Not sure what to say. Or how to say it.

Jack was more than a little disappointed that Harley hadn't appeared immediately after he'd left his note for her, because he'd really expected her to. And those two idiot henchmen hadn't returned either, though now that he thought about it, he was fairly sure he'd killed one of them, hadn't he?

There was only one thing left to do about it, really.

Find her himself.

Oh yes.

Jack set out into town, that's how he thought of it, going into town, as if he lived in some quaint little townhouse on the edge of a nice sunny field with daisies. Maybe some trees. Woodland wildlife prancing about happily while white smoke drifted lazily upward from the all brick chimney. Rocking chairs on the front porch, a porch that he'd made himself with his own two hands. There'd be a bird cage inside, too. Filled with chickadees. Or whatever those little fat ones were. And out back....

He shook his head, bringing himself out of the sudden daydream. Really. Prancing wildlife? That was so not his style. Headless wildlife, maybe. Especially if the 'wildlife' was people. Prancing, never.

Jack skipped around the streets, half wondering if he'd wander into that hulking tree of a female again, cause if he did, he was climbing her, and there was goddamned nothing she was going to say about it. He didn't care if she beat his ass to a bloody pulp after, that didn't matter. He'd laugh the whole time, cause it'd be worth it.

"HARL!" Jack stopped and screamed the name at the top of his lungs. It came out a little louder than he'd thought he was even capable of. Startled himself. Then laughed at himself.

Very few people were wandering around the streets. Probably cause it was late at night. Almost midnight, he figured. Those out were the derelicts and the druggies. His kind of people. Once in a while a happy looking couple walked together hand in hand, going home, or going to some late thingy. He bet not one of them had an explosive anything in their pockets. He did. He had several explosive somethings. He took one of them out. Ordinary looking glass marble, it was. But when he tossed it at a dumpster, it exploded loudly. Jack laughed.

"HARLEY QUINN!" He yelled it again, trying to be louder than the last time. It worked. It hurt his throat, but it worked.