The Universe's Mixer

There had been paperwork to sign. Plenty of it. Harry promised (fingers crossed behind his back) to follow the strict regiment of medications he'd been given, and to continue to see the at-home councilor once he was able to make arrangements. Finally, he was given a few items, feeling his heart pound as each was presented.

The six-foot tall staff Ebenezar had given him, during the battle with the Red Court. The two-foot rod of heavy ash wood, thick as two of Harry's fingers, and covered in runes similar to the staff. A set of eight silver rings, each ring a braid of three silver bands, that Harry carefully slid onto each finger but his thumbs. A thick bracelet, braided with gold, silver, copper, bronze, and some other unidentifiable metals, with round bronze discs handing all along it, like medieval shields. And finally, the long black leather duster. The mantle hung to his elbows, the hem halfway down his calves.

There was also a backpack, but that was mostly empty. A few candles, pieces of chalk. His guns were missing, but that was only to be expected.

He signed some more for his inventory, and his release. As he was finishing, someone said, "Your cab is here, Mr. Dresden."

Harry looked up. "A cab?"

"Yes, sir. To take you home."

Harry glanced at the car. And back at the woman. "I think I'll walk."

The woman hesitated. "Well, at least let us take you off the island and into the City. The driver will leave you wherever you choose. With no cost to you."

He considered. But it was free, and he'd be telling them to let him out. But just in case they got any ideas about not...

Harry drew in his will and aimed his staff casually at the car. "Ventas servitas," he murmured. A gale picked up, and the wind seemed to tug the door open for him. "I think that will do fine," he said, speaking to the woman, but giving the driver a smile. At least showing his teeth.

( An hour later... )

"They said you were asking for me -- now what seems to be the problem?"

Beauty had been waiting for the last two hours in a small room with white walls and strange cushions tacked as high as her hands would reach above her head. There was a mirror taking up the entire north wall. The chair she was sitting in was bolted to the floor. So was the round, metal table. This is where they'd stashed her once she'd insisted on talking with a doctor in this unfamiliar place.

"I don't believe I'm meant to be here, Doctor," Beauty said to the man with the strange white over-jacket. He'd entered not five second ago, and he apparently was a doctor, but she thought he looked nothing like doctors she was used to. Then again, she could barely recall what had happened in the last 24 hours -- and she'd certainly been in this place for longer than that. She didn't know why the man didn't seem like a doctor to her; it was simply a feeling.

Nevertheless, the rules here said that he was, so she called him by the title a doctor should be called. She gave him the respect that a man in charge of other lives should receive. And she did her best not to seem anything other than agreeable. It seemed unlikely that her insistence would make any difference, but.... it was the truth, wasn't it? She was sure it was the truth, regardless of how fuzzy her thoughts were.

To her surprise and delight, the disinterested man -- doctor -- checked a flat board with paper clipped to it, flipped up a chart, then nodded. "Agreed. We have set up your discharge paperwork. Go to the desk down the hall and to the left, and they'll get you taken care of."

She didn't question. She didn't try to understand. She just went.

Thirty minutes later, Beauty stood blinking in the afternoon sun. There was a beautiful sable horse waiting just outside Arkham gates and an attendant, yawning, handed her the reins. "Your effects," he said, before ambling back behind the gates. Beauty eyed the reins, wholly unaware of having ever owned a horse. Regardless, it seemed she was to have it. Him. It was a 'him.' And he was nickering quietly, muzzle butting up against her shoulder.

"Yes," she agreed, rubbing the warm velvet nose. "It's past time to leave."

Leave they did.