"She's waking up.  Go start prepping, I'll get Larson."

I hear the words, but don't entirely process them.  No she isn't, I think.  It's too early, she's sleeping at least another hour.  My entire body feels like its been used for a punching bag, my throat is sore and my left hand feels odd.  But as much as I'd like to return to unconsciousness, my mind isn't cooperating.  Who's Larson?  The answer doesn't seem to be available as things stand, so I reluctantly open my eyes, but this doesn't help much.

I see things, but I'm having trouble putting them together.  A television, but it's much too high.  Two chairs by a window.  One of the chairs has some clothes sitting on it, neatly folded.  My dress?  I glance down at myself.  Blue linen.  Things start to click now.  My left hand is wrapped in gauze, an IV is taped to my forearm above it.  I'm in a hospital.  Was I in an accident?

I look at my other arm, but there's no sign of injury to accompany the battered feeling, not even a bruise.  There are two bags hanging from the metal stand next to the bed.  One is labeled "5% GLUCOSE" in large letters, the other I can't make out...but only the first one is connected to the IV anyway.

I try to remember what happened.  I was...going somewhere with someone.  A date?  That doesn't feel entirely right, but not entirely wrong either.  Where was I going?  A theater.  I wasn't invited, but Stanzie was...

I sit bolt upright, and groan involuntarily as every muscle in my body protests.  Stanzie's Invite.  The sharing, the failed Mesmerism, the workaround that worked around me, and then...I'd felt my body being torn apart a piece at a time.  Not literally, it was still just sensation, but no less agonizing for all that.  I'd covered my mouth with my hands to muffle the screaming, eventually jammed my fist in.  I vaguely remember the taste of blood, the cold splash of my elbow going into the toilet as I fell off the seat in my struggles.  I'm not sure if my screams attracted attention or if the show music drowned them out and someone discovered me afterward, but either way, I must've passed out at some point.

I know that even if an effect produces the sensations of genuine injury, there shouldn't be lingering trauma.  It must be a complication...my muscles got strained and knotted, and that would persist normally.  My head is still a bit fuzzy, but my priorities assert themselves.  I begin slowly passing my hands over my body, an inch at a time.  There's no visible change, but I can feel the soreness retreating as if I was wringing it out of the muscles, which in a sense I am.  I've only managed to work my way down to my waist when a man and a woman wearing scrubs walk into the room.  I stop, trying to act natural, whatever that means for this situation...

"Miss Carter," says the man.  "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad...a little sore.  Embarrassed, maybe."  I'd feel much better if I could finish healing myself without them using it as an excuse to keep me for a psych eval.

"Do you remember what happened?"  I mentally grope for some plausible excuse.

"Um...I think I had some pretty bad cramps?"  The woman raised an eyebrow, and I clarified hastily, "Muscle cramps...happens sometimes from not drinking enough water, though I've never had it that bad."  Or at all, for that matter.  "Did I faint?"  They share a glance.

"You did," says the woman.  "Also, you may speak without fear any Revelation would shock us."  My blood goes cold as I realize what her emphasis is meant to communicate.  They're from the theater.  They're Sorcerers.  They know...or maybe they know.  Don't assume, don't give anything up.

"Ah," I say, and wait.  Another shared glance.

"You shared a mystical bond with a participant in the show," says the man.  It's not a question.  I nod, anyway, trying to seem cooperative.  "The young woman is your Apprentice?"  This time it seems he's not sure, but I don't see any harm in confirming it.  Makes the sharing more plausible.

"She is.  Is she ok?"

"She's being...she's nearby," says the woman, clearly changing her answer in mid-sentence.  "And in quite a state over concern for you, but otherwise fine," she adds.  My mind races.  Being what?  Held?  Questioned?  What might Stanzie have said, what could they have asked her?  Due to my command, she wouldn't willingly betray me, but if they'd caught a scent of her lying on my behalf...

"Well, I'm sorry about all the commotion I've caused.  We'll be much more careful with such effects in the future," I say with all the sincerity I can muster.  I garnish it with a wince that I don't have to fake, as my legs are still aching like I'd just finished a marathon.  "Can I get dressed and take her home?"

"Were you aware that your Apprentice's mind had been bound prior to this evening?" the man asks, casually.  My heart begins to pound in earnest, a fact that's more obvious than I'd like due to the heart rate monitor next to the bed.  I allow the concern I feel to show, but try to twist it.

"What?  Bound how?  Do you know who did it?"  I am just a dutiful teacher and friend, of course I'd be alarmed at hearing that...

"From what Mr. Marshall reported of the resistance during his performance, there is little doubt she has been bound by her True Name.  We should know who performed the binding...shortly," says the woman.  By her expression, it's clear she believes it was me.  I had no idea such a thing was even possible, tracing a binding....  "It might help if you could just deny involvement in it, for the record..."

"Of course," I say quickly, nodding.  I will their eyes to stay on me and not glance at the heart monitor.  At least it's not beeping.

"Explicitly.  If you don't mind," she adds.  She's sharp, knows the "of course" and the nod could be applied to evaluating her statement, rather than confirming it.  The way she's holding her hand, I can tell she's ready to pluck a lie out of the air.  I could try to feign indignity, but that'd be nearly as bad as a lie.

I roll my eyes back in my head and moan softly, falling back onto the bed, my hands pulling the thin blanket up to my shoulders.  I curl into the fetal position, making sick noises and ducking my head so I'm entirely under the blanket.  It's a pathetic ruse, but it only needs to last a second.  I yank the IV from my arm and concentrate fiercely.

They lunge forward and pull the covers half-off the bed.  The woman swears.

"Grant, you were supposed to have blocked access to the Between from this room!"

"I did!  She must have noticed it, did a bypass?"

"Really?  With no incant?  Her?"  The woman makes a disgusted noise.  "Go back to the other one and make sure her room is secured, I have to try to find a damn Seer."  I hear her rush out of the room.

Her anger at her companion's supposed incompetence boosts my spirits a bit, but the implied contempt towards my abilities makes me loathe her a little.  More, even, because she's right.  I hadn't even had an inkling that you could make a place un-Vanishable, let alone how to work around such an enchantment.  But I'm mollified a bit by the fact that my own little trick was good enough to fool them, at least for the moment.  It probably helped that they didn't know I wouldn't leave without Stanza, though for a moment I wonder why that was.  The thought is quickly buried under more pressing concerns, like how to get out with her at all, how to block a Seer, how hard it'll be to get fresh Cloaks for both of us...

I hear the man, "Grant" I suppose, walk to the door, muttering to himself.  I quickly run out from the covers near the foot of the bed and leap off the edge.  Even though I've had plenty of practice, I still tense up a bit at what, from my perspective, is a leap off the roof of a six-story building.  It doesn't help that the muscles in my hind legs are still screaming in protest, but I manage to land softly.  I pray the adrenaline lasts long enough to let me keep up with the man through the hallways until we get to wherever they have Stanzie.  Though with my luck lately, I imagine this'll be the day the hospital has therapy cats brought in, and I'll get stuck in an elevator with three of them.

I am so screwed, I am so screwed...at least my fur blends in with the floors in this place...