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_ Signum is a binary._

Zachary Parker despised formality, and minimalism was a close second. He had few options but to cooperate if he wanted to get out of here; despite what he'd been promised, he was being held "just a bit longer," and no one had brought him a proper change of clothes. At least he wasn't in that damned hospital gown anymore, but this... white shorts, white shirt, he looked like some kind of prison inmate from television commercial about the Jamaican Islands. He'd been taken out of the secured hospital room, but this room looked even less friendly. Could walls really be painted this neutrally? The only hint of color was his own fur, the _shimofuri-tora_salt and pepper brindle of which he was quite rightfully proud. Even the furniture was pale, stark, simple wooden stuff like something out of a completely sterile set for some kind of Godot-like play. Completely non-descript doors on three walls (he turned to look behind himself, nope, no door there, everything was in front of him). It was...

"Hello, Zachary."

The damned professorial dragon sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, a huge splotch of well-dressed crimson with sliver scutes, a blister of individuality in the midst of the sameness.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"We dragons are sneaky buggers that way. You ready to go home?"

"Just need my clothes."

"Of course. I'm sure that can be arranged." The dragon shifted himself, his tail making quite a show of itself as he wrapped it around his legs. "I wanted to check in with you, make sure that you're really ready to leave."

"Eager. Enthusiastic. Rarin' to go."

"What do you plan to do?"

"For a start, get some decent food." The Akita crossed his legs, leaned back in the simple armchair and tried to relax. It would be a waiting game, at this point. They couldn't hold him much longer.

"Reasonable strategy. Shows good survival skills. After that?"

"Good sleep. And before you ask, no, I haven't got much past that. Have to wait to see if they're gonna throw me out of school first."

"Something we can talk about." For a moment, the professor regarded him closely. "Dean Williamson has made it clear that, if you stay, you'll need to agree to counseling."

"You gonna shrink my head?"

"No. Just clear up a few things."

"And if I say no?"

"You leave school. Simple as that. And oh yes..." The dragon scratched his chin nonchalantly, as if just remembering some detail. "Jerry Bunting has asked me to tell you that he wants to see you, if it would help. Do you want to see him?"

Parker felt his tail bristling like the fur on the back of his neck. He forced himself to stay calm. "No, that's okay. No need."

"Do you know why he wants to see you?"

"I'm sure I have no idea."

"I think he wants to apologize." The dragon leaned back, propping himself on one arm bent at the elbow, extending one long leg in what might be considered a casual pose. "He seems to think that he might have been responsible for your... breakdown. How do you feel about that?"

The Akita snorted derisively. "Typical shrink question."

"Cliché, perhaps, but necessary. Have you had a lot of experience with shrinks?"

"Shrinks, social workers, counselors... orphans get kicked around a lot. And you know what they say about Akitas - that we're like pit bulls or Rotties, violent and quick to anger, that we're dangerous if we aren't socialized at a young age."

"Oh, and here I thought it was something to do with your tail always being hiked up and ready for action."

Parker was on his hindpaws in a flash, making fists and growling low and deep in his chest. The dragon, damn him, didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle, just sat and looked at him with eyes that seemed to be seeing too much. The footballer managed to rein in his breathing, relax his stance, make himself remember not to rise to the bait. They wanted to keep him here, that was clear. From the beginning, he knew that this was supposed to be a prison, that he was supposed to say locked in here forever, but he'd been wanting to break out since...

...since?

"You have the appearance of someone who is remembering something." The dragon canted his head to one side. "Are you remembering?"

"No, I just..." Something made the fur across his body shift and adjust sharply, like a cold wind, a chill, a memory that he never experienced, that he could not have experienced, he was not allowed to... Parker shook his head hard enough to make his ears rattle. He looked at the dragon, surprised to see that he was still there, perched in the oversized chair that looked almost made just for him, waiting, there and yet not really there, as if perhaps he should have been a waking dream, or perhaps...

"Zachary, why don't you sit down. Just there."

The pup shifted his stance backward slightly, felt the edge of the plush armchair against the back of his legs and fell back more than sat down. He noticed that he felt thirsty and reached for the bottle of water on the table to his right. His forepaw met with a large tumbler filled with cool water. Oh that's right, sports bottle outside the hospital, in here it was tumblers filled from a reusable pitcher. He sipped at the water gratefully.

"Memory is a strange thing," the dragon mused. "There are essentially three types of memory. Semantic memory is recollection of words, facts, general knowledge, the part that a good education is supposed to help add to. Procedural memory is what we sometimes call muscle memory. For you, that could include the patterns that you run on the football field - something you've done often enough that your brain has actually created neural pathways, in itself and in your body, that help you access and perform those patterns quickly, without much conscious thought. Then comes episodic memory, which you might think of as your personal history - people, places, things, all learned through experience.

"When I said that you looked like you were remembering something, it's because you were looking away. Now, there's a popular myth that says where you look when you're thinking can tell someone else if you're lying or telling the truth. Supposedly, looking up and right is truth, looking up and left is a lie. As the old song tells us, it ain't necessarily so. However, when people remember things, their eyes tend to light on a spot that has little going on, such as looking up to the ceiling or the sky, or even close their eyes to think. That's simply to lessen the input coming in through the eyes, to give the brain more focus on the problem, rather than processing all the images of things around you." The soft-eyed dragon smiled. "Okay, lecture over. No pop quiz."

"But there's a point, I'm sure. Somewhere in all of that, you're making a point."

"Just so. I wanted to talk to you about your memory, specifically your episodic memory. But I need your permission. And truth told, this is where it gets a bit ... what's the word I've heard used in recent years? Hinky." The drake grinned. "Neologisms are cuter when delivered by highly intelligent goth females."

"What's so hinky?"

"Zachary, do you recognize this room?"

The Akita looked around at the pale walls decorated by nothing at all, the three nondescript doors in three of the four walls (which one had he come in by?), the stark coldness of the space. "No. Why should I? I haven't been in this part of the hospital before."

Slowly, the professor nodded his huge head. "And if I told you that we're not in the hospital?"

"Where else, then? The jail? Somewhere on campus?" Parker frowned so hard that it hurt. "You can't keep me here forever. You're supposed to release me today."

"Yes, you'll be released from the hospital today. Very soon, in fact. As you say, you just need your clothes." Another pause from the professor. "You said that you hadn't made plans yet, Zachary. Would you make one, just one, for me? Would you tell me that you'll come to see me for counseling?"

"I can't promise that, doc."

"Why not?"

The Akita bounced to his hindpaws, needing to walk off some tension, even though the room was so small. "Might be better if I just left town. Move on. I've got no ties here, nothing to keep me here."

"Not even your girlfriend?"

Zachary flinched slightly, but kept walking. "Somehow, I don't think Pris really wants to see me anymore anyway."

"Perhaps I could go find her, ask her to come visit you."

"No." The pup found himself laughing ruefully. "Yeah, that's terrific ... Pris doesn't want to see me, but Jerry does. Helluva damned way that turns out, huh?"

"It's something we could talk about." The professor took a sip from his own mug. Parker smelled coffee, a very strong and pungent blend, something that an old sailor would have said could strip varnish from a Navy footlocker. Almost burnt, like something from a campfire or old west bunkhouse or...

"Zachary?"

He keeps using my name, like he's trying to drill into my head... "Yeah."

"Another memory?"

"No."

The deep crimson drake shifted in his chair. "I think it's about time for you to go home, Zachary, but I'd like you to come to counseling. Just for a bit. Would you do that for me, Zachary? Would you let me help you through this?"

"If it'll get me out of here sooner, then hell yes, I'll come see you."

"And that's as good as it's going to get now, isn't it?" Smoothly, gracefully, the great dragon stood and spread his arms slightly, seeming to take in the whole room. He reached one crimson foreclaw toward the Akita and held it in front of him as if meaning to clutch him in an embrace that might never let him go. "Lock this in: You want to see me for counseling. Benedict, open the door."

"What are you..."

_ One blue and one dark star._

Zachary Parker pulled on the fresh shirt that someone had brought to him from his locker at the athletic building. There was some other stuff that he'd probably want to get out of there later, if they'd even let him back into the building. He thought about tucking the shirttails into his pants, shrugged tiredly and looked about him. They'd brought him in directly from the football field on Friday night; the athletic gear was left behind, and he had no personal belongings. Nothing here but the bed he'd been in for two days and its unused companion, a few chairs, the drab furnishings of a room in the secure ward of the hospital. Nothing at all to stay for. Time to go.

He glanced up at the doorway, expecting yet mildly surprised to see the door propped open, as if inviting him to leave. No cop stood nearby, no bars or restraints, strangely normal-sounding noises filtering in from beyond. For just a moment, he actually felt fear at the thought of simply walking through a doorway. He drew a breath, shook his head briefly, and began moving when he saw a tall, slim young panther enter his room, guiding a wheelchair.

"You call for a taxi, mon?" The young feline grinned widely, indicated the chair.

"It's okay, I can walk."

"So dey tell me, but de insurance mon, he don't tink so. Dat's why Ah got de job." He put a forepaw solemnly to his chest. "Ah swear Ah know how to drive dis ting, and Ah haven't had a wreck even once dis week." Conspiratorially, he stage-whispered, "And Ah know a short cut to de front door!"

Parker grinned in spite of himself. "I don't think I even know where the front door is."

"We move it aroun' sometime, just to keep visitors on dere toes."

"Why do I find it easy to believe that?" The Akita positioned himself in the chair and waited as the orderly carefully helped his hindpaws onto the pawplates that he had unfolded into position.

"Got any luggage? We doan charge extra on dis flight."

"Nope. Got here without much of anything."

"Okay, we good to go." The panther hopped behind the chair, wheeled it around, and brought Parker outside the room with practiced efficiency. "Don't get down dis wing often," he said conversationally.

"They keep us hardened criminals away from the public."

After a brief pause, the orderly spoke softly. "Ah don't credit gossip. Papers said it was a fight, and Ah been in a few of dose my own self. Sound like you got bait up. Just glad you out, paadie."

The Akita considered for a moment. "Thanks," he said.

"Memba mi tell yu!"

"You lost me," Parker chuckled as the chair moved quickly into a larger and more populated hallway.

"Just mah famous Jamaican patois! Ah don' know if you can tell Ah'm Jamaican since Ah lost mah accent."

"I hate to tell you, dude, but it hasn't lost you."

"Some tings, dey stay true. And here's de doors, right where Ah left 'em for a change! You got cheddah for a cab?"

"Think I can walk it, thanks." With the panther's well-intentioned assistance, Parker got up from the wheelchair and offered a paw to shake. "Thanks for the ride."

"More life, more strength," the orderly said with sincerity, shaking the paw firmly. "Don' trip on dah way home; makes us look bad, you got to come back too soon!"

"I'll be very careful."

Parker stepped out into the midday sun, a slight chill in the autumn air but no more than a breeze to worry about. After shuffling his thoughts enough to realize that it was indeed Sunday, he looked around the comparatively quiet area around the hospital grounds and oriented himself to remember where his apartment was located. He had promised himself some good food, but while someone had gotten his clothes back to him, no one had thought to bring his cell phone, keys, or wallet. First stop would have to be home, see if the apartment complex office could let him in, and then...

"Zachary Parker?"

The Akita pivoted his head quickly toward the sound of his name. The speaker was a lean and well-formed saluki, seated in an open-topped electric vehicle of particularly new vintage, larger than the usual models. The sleek pup inside seemed faintly dwarfed in the driver's seat.

"My name is Eoin McCracken. Professor Spencer sent me to give you these." He held up a padded envelope.

Cautious yet curious, Parker stepped over to the car and took the envelope in paw. Inside, he found his keys, wallet, cell phone, some change, and various other detritus, along with a yellow page that was a copy of a police inventory statement. "Why didn't he...?"

"He told me that he suspected you'd be sick of seeing him for a little while." The saluki smiled softly. "Can't say that I suffer from that affliction. He did want me to tell you that you're free to call him at any time; there's a card there with his office, home, and cell numbers." Eoin jutted his chin toward the passenger seat. "Can I drive you somewhere?"

"I can walk."

"I'm sure you can. Driving's faster."

Parker considered the pup for a few moments, found no sarcasm or condescension, and moved to open the door. Stepping inside the vehicle, he marveled for a moment at the sheer luxury of it. Either professors were paid more handsomely than he had first thought, or the clichés about dragon hoards were true.

"Where to?"

"Do you know the Fullerton Apartments?"

The saluki nodded and pulled out smoothly and silently into the street. As the light shifted around them, Parker's eye was caught by a small gold plate on what appeared to be the highly-polished genuine wood panel to the glove compartment. Engraved upon it was the dedication, Built exclusively for Benedict Spenser by Tesla Motors, with our deep gratitude and affectionate appreciation for his help in solving a particularly knotty problem. The Akita couldn't begin to speculate what that was about.

"You may be tired of this question by now, but how are you feeling?"

Parker suppressed the brief bristle that he felt trying to rise in him. "Sore, but in one piece." He looked over to the driver as if daring him to challenge the statement.

"That's good, I suppose." A chuckle. "I'm usually better at conversation than this."

The Akita had the decency to feel a touch of embarrassment. "So, how do you know the doc?"

"Quite intimately." Eoin grinned when he noted the footballer's expression. "Sorry - too blunt?"

"Just... surprising, I guess."

"Do I not seem his type?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm not gay."

"Okay."

Parker whipped his head around toward the driver. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing at all." Eoin frowned. "I meant no offense, Mr. Parker; I simply don't know what else to say."

For a long moment, he tried to understand why he felt so on edge, as if this airy-fairy pretty-pup with his flowing white-gold fur was somehow dangerous to him, as if he might try taking him to some secluded place and try to molest him, or just that he might be seen with this guy and other people would think he was gay too. Guilt by association. Appearances are important, can make or break reputations, destroy dynasties...

Parker frowned, unsure just where that thought came from.

"Why did you call me Mr. Parker?"

The saluki smiled gently. "I'm a creature of old-fashioned sensibilities. I avoid using first names unless I'm invited to. Please feel free to call me Eoin."

"Zach. Or Zachary."

"Thank you."

The Akita paused, got his bearings. They were nearing his apartment complex. "How much do you know?"

Realizing that he'd handed his driver what could only be called "a straight line," Parker was actually happy when the pup took the question at its unspoken value. "What I've heard on the news, and that Benedict has offered counseling. He hasn't talked to me about you, and he won't; he takes seriously his promise to keep his clients' secrets secret." Taking a slow breath, he continued. "He's very understanding, non-judgmental. I'm speaking from more informal experience, but I find him to be a great listener and a wise advisor. He means it when he says that you can call anytime."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"He wouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it, and he must think you something special to have given you that offer. I'd take it, if I were you."

Eoin pulled the near-silent car into the main entrance of the apartment complex and, with Parker's direction, made a few turns that led directly to the Akita's front door. He turned in the driver's seat and regarded his passenger directly. "Anything you need, Zachary?"

"I'll be okay for now." He levered himself out of the car, closing the door firmly and, after a brief hesitation, leaning on it and extending a forepaw. "Thank you for the lift," he said.

The saluki shook his paw with a firm grip that, Parker had to admit, surprised him a little. Apparently, the pup wasn't as fragile as he might seem. "Glad to oblige. Good luck, Zachary. Call on Benedict... and I'll help, if I can."

As the electric car whispered away from him, Parker watched for a moment, then turned and walked back to his apartment door. He felt vaguely cold, perhaps numb would be a better word. He fished out the key and let himself in, closing the door behind him and locking it securely, including the knob cylinder, the deadbolt, and the security chain. He tried to ignore that he'd done so, moving quickly to his bedroom, stripping off clothes as he went. Within moments, he stood under the hot, sharp needle spray of his shower, as if trying to burn out the aches in his body. He let his mind drift, trying not to let any thoughts at all encroach on his consciousness. Thinking, he was convinced, was a bad thing.

_ Oh Harm, you're so much smarter than you give yourself credit for._

Parker shut off the water with a smack of his paw hard enough to hurt himself. He used the towels and wall blower to dry himself off, found a pair of fresh shorts in his bedroom, and went to fetch his phone. He collapsed onto the sofa, trying hard to make his teeth stop grinding together. He swiped and tapped at the device, replaying his voice mail on speaker. You have... five... new messages. Picking up a pencil, he scribbled a "5" at the top of a notebook page, went back to looking at the screen.

First... new message. A brief choking sound, like a strangled cry, possibly from a female. A dial tone. Parker noted hangup on his pad erased the message from his voicemail. The screen verified his actions.

Second... new message. "Parker... I don't know when you'll get this message. It's Jerry; you called me last night, and I probably should have... Look, call me. We should talk. I'm worried... ah, shit..." A click. Parker made a note on his pad, erased the message.

Third... new message. A hang-up. Parker noted and erased it.

Forth... new message. "Mr. Parker, this is Dean Williamson." The polished voice was, in some ways, almost soothing. "Officially, I must ask that you call my office before five p.m. tomorrow, Monday, to make arrangements to meet with you to discuss your situation here at the university. Personally... although you may not believe it, I'm quite concerned and want to help as best I can. I know that you have Professor Bendict's contact information. I hope you will avail yourself of it." The line clicked quietly. Parker reluctantly noted and erased it.

End of messages.

The Akita tossed the pencil onto the notepad, deactivated his phone, and lay back on the sofa with a huge sigh. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, amazed that he could feel so tired after having done almost nothing for a day and a half. At least he wasn't in that damned hospital bed. This was his own apartment, his own safe haven, perhaps the only home he'd really known in his life of being bounced from place to place. Alone, but not lonely. Safe. Protected. Wrapped in a small space of his own making. Comfortable within his four walls, his simple four walls, his plain and Spartan four walls, with three utterly non-descript doors...

Screaming, Parker launched himself off the sofa, stood in the middle of the room, looking around himself. Yes, it was his apartment, not stark white at all, but filled with the bric-a-brac he'd managed to collect for himself over his college years. He wasn't back there, back in

(prison)

hospital, he was home, and he intended to stay here... wherever he was...

Unlike a moment ago, sleep felt very, very far away.