Speaking of medical matters, on my day off was up at 0630 to drop off a dog for teeth cleaning. The estimate was $700-900. TF? I told my wife “next time buy a damned toothbrush.”

A rare Tuesday update, I wanted to wrap up Graf’s foray into the park across from the hospital. I also wanted to re-point out what Pai calls his gift; something he nearly considers a curse. I’m too good a writer to get into “Mary Sue” territory, so things will happen shortly to keep him on a short leash.

For those who know my works, you’ll recognize the scraggly gal Graf sees in the background for just a moment.

“We seem perfect for the Earth.  And vice versa,” Graf sighed after a drink.  “Why are we leaving, again?”

“If there was any tell that you are still not back to normal, Husband, that was it,” his wife said, bumping her shoulder to his.  “Perhaps I will keep you here another day?”

“I think not.” He looked around.  Back to her.  “A lot of people are looking at you, Pai.  Is it the uniform or your…”  He made a small motion to her hair and eyes.

“Both.  Recovered from the Breakup and making their way in the Change, this area is becoming quite cosmopolitan:  students, doctors, patients,” she shook with the faintest laugh.  “If only they really knew what I am!”

“Let’s keep that cat in its bag, then.”

“We may not be able to.”

Graf sat up.  “What does that mean?”

“I’ve changed my thoughts a bit,” Pai went off on one of her tangents.  “You will rest a little, but out here, on me.  Not that awful bed.”

He waited.

“We have a visitor in the late afternoon.  As this visit is Подпольный, there is no diplomatic folderol to be had.”

Graf heard “podol’nyy.”  “Secret?” he asked from his primary school grasp of Russian.

“Clandestine comes closer.  It is Crown Prince Robert Hartmann, son of Emeritus Empress Faustina, married into the Russian Imperial Family, and grandfather of Alicia, Queen of Mars.”

He dropped the water bottle.  She picked it right back up and back into his now shaking hands.

“What!  Why now?  Because of the whole moon thing?  And how the heck do you keep someone like him a secret?”

“Graf, please?  If Aurie, my mom, my brother Deputy PM Vlad, and I want it this way, that is how it shall be.”

“I get no say in this?”

“And there’s the biggest problem, Beloved.  What if you do?  What if you use your gift to touch his mind?” Used to her moods changing in an instant, this was one of those times.  “Do you really want him as one of your retainers?  Shall we park him in a room next to Luce, who thinks about you more than her fiancé?”

Graf fell silent.  Even after all this…  “Even after all this,” he waved at his new throat, “you still think that works?”

“Let’s see.  You, there!” Pai called to a woman in her early thirties.  Pushing an IV pole and with no hair, it was fairly obvious why she was at the Medical Complex.  Slowly, she made her way over.

“Pai!” he rasped at her.  “This woman is sick!  I can’t just…!”

She pulled him up.  Even in her dilapidated condition, the other was still very attractive, reminding him a bit of Alix, and her dark, cuddly nature.  But this woman was thin from her cancer.

“I am Pai Winstead,” she clearly said.  “My husband, Graf.  He died recently from having his throat shot out.  Better now, though.  Your diagnosis?”

That’s none of our business!

“Lymphoma; stage two.  They think they got it in time,” was her soft reply.

“They did.” She turned to her husband and switched to Russian.  “Heal her.”

“What?” he replied in the same.  “You said I can only change minds…”

“Heal her.  Use your voice; use your mind.  In fact, touch her shoulder.”

“This is not funny!”

“I’m waiting and Machines have little patience.”

This is so stupid!  But he took two steps and put his right hand on her left shoulder.

“You are healed.  Go show your oncologist.” I will be arrested if this doesn’t work!

“I’m…what?” the other asked.

For just a moment, some yards past the sick woman, there was another woman but in scraggly rags, filthy blond hair…and a green and black eye, just grinning and nodding at him.  A massive rifle was slung across her back.  A blink and she was gone.  What in the…?

“Go,” Pai ordered the patient.  “My husband must recover, too.”

“But…!”

“Go.”

Back on the bench with his eyes shut and throat burning, he heard the pole squeak as it was pushed away.

“Did that really happen, Beloved?”

“Rest, Graf.  We are here for you.”

Once his breathing was regular, she tried again.  “Literally.”