Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target or Harry Potter and intend no copyright infringement.
"Where have you been?" Chance was standing in front of him, right in the middle of the cheap London hotel room they had holed up in, and was practically shouting at him. "Where THE HELL have you been?"
Okay, scratch the "practically" part. He was shouting.
"Trying to find a couple of decent donuts and real coffee in this godforsaken place? Like I said I would?" Winston replied, totally puzzled. "Why are you so upset? Where's the client?"
"On his way home! The threat is eliminated, he is safe!" Chance was still shouting. "We put him in an airplane and sent him off for good."
"You did all that in fifteen minutes?"
For a moment Chance just stared at his friend. Then he continued, a lot softer and calmer: "Winston, you were gone for three days, not fifteen minutes. It's Friday today. Where have you been?"
Winston slumped down on the bed and looked at Chance open-mouthed. "In the donut shop… Friday?"
Chance grabbed his phone and hectically speed-dialed Guerrero: "Whatever you're doing, drop it. Winston is back. He's okay, but he's a bit… disorientated."
On the other end of the line, Guerrero carefully put down the fish hook he'd just chosen from his collection in the tackle box. "Looks like you can keep your fingernails after all", he told the man tied to the chair in front of him.
"I told you I knew nothing about this Winston's whereabouts!", the man replied, voice hoarse and shaking.
Guerrero shrugged. "I'm truly sorry."
In the hotel room, Winston still couldn't believe that three days had passed since he went out to grab some proper breakfast and couldn't remember a thing about it. Chance produced the bottle of Bourbon the client had given them and shared a drink with him, trying to calm him down. "Maybe you had an accident of sorts. It'll surely come back to you."
Winston kept staring at his right hand. There was something about it…
His fingers…
His index finger…
"The scar is missing", he finally said.
Chance frowned, took a closer look at the finger and realized what he was talking about: Ever since Bangkok, Winston had sported a fine scar on his right index finger, stemming from a too close encounter with a knife-wielding wannabe-ninja.
The scar was gone. The skin was perfect, no marks at all on it.
How in the world…?
At St. Mungo's the Healer-in-Charge of the Artifact Accidents ward was upset. "This Muggle, Laverne Winston, was already released?"
"His memory was modified and he was sent home, yes", the Trainee Healer confirmed. "Why should we have kept him? His emergency bone re-growth was successfully completed."
"There was a tiny scar on his original index finger – we should have put that back on; he'll wonder where it's gone."
The Trainee Healer bit his lip. He should have thought about that. "Let's just hope he's like all Muggles, blocking out the things he can't explain or finding some so-called scientific explanation for it."
The Healer-in-Charge was doubtful, but just as he wanted to add something reprimanding regarding the trainee's rushed decision making, another three Muggle emergencies came in.
Oh, how he hated these biting doorknobs.