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"I really, really, really need him out." I told the doctor.
She sighed. "Listen, the police wanted to have another word with him, I can't let him go until they say it's fine." She slid her glasses up her nose with one finger. "I'm sorry."
"His visa is expired…" I mumbled 'to myself' in a manner she could hear. "You said he's fine, physically." I reassured with her.
The doctor nodded. "He just needs some rest, keeping the area clean and maybe some pain killers for the first few days. He recovered faster than I thought, one blood donation and he's suddenly almost completely healed."
I bit my lip. I knew she liked Jon by the way she looked at him. By 'liked' I mean 'had the hots for'. I grinned a little. "Well, let's agree this conversation had never happened." I gave her a knowing look. She looked behind my shoulder at Jon, who was sleepy, half of his chest shown with the blanket down as he sat in his bed and watched YouTube videos on my phone.
The doctor looked back at me and gave me a slight nod.
After that I went out to get Jon some proper clothes to wear for when we'll go out of the hospital, because the ones he got in with were bloody. I got him nice bright shorts and a buttoned black shirt. Black did suit him the best, but he also looked fine in other colors. I'll work on that with him.
Yeah, right. Right after I'll find the magic portal to the world of death and dragons, I'll give him a styling advice. Sure.
I got Jon dressed and disconnected from the devices I turned off ahead. It was dark outside, a good time to leave. It wasn't a high profile crime. The only reason the cops wanted to question Jon was his identity, and they probably wanted him to testify in court. But right now, we had different priorities than the NYPDs.
We snicked out of the hospital, Jon looking like he wasn't hurt, but I could see in his eyes that he was still in pain. I could also see he dealt with worse pain than this before, so he had the experience in sucking it in.
On the ride back home on the subway, he fell asleep and leaned his head on my shoulder. I didn't move, I didn't want to wake him up. He needs his rest.
I didn't want to fall asleep myself, so I tried to keep my mind busy with thoughts.
Let's see… Zee said I should meditate. How does she meditate? She told me once she can do it everywhere, she just focuses on her third eye and ignores her surroundings. So I tried. Well, I assumed that the third eye should be somewhere in the middle of my forehead.
I even closed my existing eyes-the ones I actually believed in-and tried to concentrate more. Jon's head on my shoulder was pretty distracting. I tried to ignore him, ignore the noise of the train, ignore the stupid Rihanna song that was stuck in my mind for some reason.
Not that I don't like that specific song. Bitch Better Have My Money is great and all, I just really need to concentrate.
Pay me what you owe me, don't act like you forgot! Bitch better have my money!
It didn't work out for me.
And then I thought that maybe I should try something different. I never saw the future or talked to the dead like Zee does. Her thing is her sight and her psychic ability. That's just not my thing.
We were almost at our stop and I woke Jon up with a gentle shake. He opened his eyes, looked up at me, and when he understood I was his pillow he straightened himself faster than I though was possible for someone who's been sleeping so deep for the last twenty minutes. Am I that awful? I guess so.
We walked up the stairs in silence, tired. When I opened the door, I saw Ghost standing in front of me like a worried parent. The poor guy didn't have a chance to go to the bathroom, too, but as I looked around the living room no disgusting giant dog-droppings were found. Only my cat, stretching on the couch.
I greeted Ghost shortly before I let Jon and him reunite.
I turned on the lights, stretched and looked around my tiny apartment. So much better than a hospital.
I looked at the TV, at the bands and movies posters, and then my eyes landed on my little target with a small pack of darts. I gotta find my thing.
No, come on. I know I'm good at hitting targets, really, really good at that. I was trained, but I was also talented. That's the only thing I brag about (excluding my awesome talent at balancing limes on my forehead, baking bread and… ahm. Everything.).
An idea started to form in my head, but I was tired. I'll need a projector, and I can get one from Mika tomorrow.
My eyes fell on my old acoustic guitar, standing in the corner of my room, untouched for too long. I just walked to it. I lifted it up, just wanting to relax and play a bit. So I sat on the couch and began to play.
First I did some scales and small warm-up exercises. Then I thought about the song I want to play. Bowie, or Nirvana? Radiohead or Pink Floyd? There were so many songs in my head at the moment. So I just went with it.
I struck the first chord, smiling for the sound and closed my eyes.
"Where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it's hard, it's a hard, it's hard, and it's hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall"
I loved that song. Bob Dylan just knew how to writet, no doubt about that. It wasn't the happiest song, but I liked that type of bitter-sweet lyrics, maybe it made me feel better. Life wasn't all happy and shiny.
I opened my eyes and saw Jon looking at me.
"Sorry, time for bed." I said.
Jon looked at the guitar, then down at his hands. "You know, where I come from most of the songs are about the Age of Heroes, or about battles, or Aegon the Conqueror. But here… there are so many things people sing about here." He then looked at me with his tired puppy eyes. I don't think he even knows he looks like a puppy seventy present of the time.
"Well, Bob Dylan is a genius when it comes to modern song writing." I said the best thing I had.
"I liked your voice."
"Very different from Dylan's."
"Will you sing another of your worlds songs?" He asked and sat on his bed-couch. Ghost was more protective after he saw Jon was hurt. He laid at the feet of the couch.
So I did. I sang Heart of Gold by Neil Young, I sang Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen and The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie. Old classics that everyone here are sick of hearing, but they are classics for a reason.
When I finished playing Blackbird, he was already asleep. I laid down my guitar and covered him better with the blanket and stroke his dark curls a little. I smiled at Ghost and stroke him behind the ears.
Marylin woke up and followed me into my room. I know I didn't have proper food today, but I was exhausted. I went to bed, and for some reason the song that was stuck in my head out of all of the songs I played, was Heart of Gold.
"He's fine." Bran said the moment his eyes turned brown again.
Sansa placed the quill she was writing with down. "Five how?" She asked.
"He was walking out of the building with Andie. He looked like he was in pain, but he was well. They went back to her home." Bran said in a monotone voice. Sansa will always miss her smiling, loving little brother. It was too hard to understand that even though that is his face and body, Bran was long gone.
At her right, Arya smiled. She was happy to know Jon was well. Sansa smiled as well, and reached to a new small piece of parchment. She immediately started to write a note to Daenerys. She hoped Cersei is going through a painful defeat. Arya wanted to kill her, but Sansa insisted that her sister will stay.
She will not lose another of her blood to stupid games, no matter how powerful Arya has become.
The next morning was lazy. I had an evening shift, and I didn't want to bail this time, so I made sure everything is fine. Today we rest.
I called Mika and asked him for the projector. He said he'll come at noon.
Jon and I were eating some cereal for breakfast. I thought him to play Mario Cart.
He didn't like Mario Cart.
So I tried Skyrim on my PC.
"You should choose to be a thief." I said wisely.
"But I don't want to be a thief. I'll be a warrior."
"Urgh, boring." I commented. Jon didn't care.
After a few minutes of struggle, Jon was controlling his character pretty well. He was one of those cat-people, as I offered (being a thief was below him, but being a cat and human hybrid? Sure, why not.)
He laughed at the first dragon. "They're not a nearly as beautiful at real dragons, or as awe-inspiring."
"Well, that's because they're inside a screen and not fucking real." I said and looked at him die again.
"All of that resurrection loses the point," Jon said, "You'll be last careful if you know you'll be revived…" Then a dark shadow crossed his face. "I should know that."
What was that for? I think I found my second question. By the look on Jon's face, I knew he regretted that comment.
I was about to ask him about it as I heard the knock on my door. It was noon, and Mika got right on the minute.
"Alright, pause the game."
I drew the curtains back on the windows so we could see the pictures better. Mika placed the projector in front of my target, as I asked him to, and connected it to his laptop.
"Let's start with a map of New York City." I said and took the darts in my hand. Mika put on a map that spread mostly on the target.
"Can you now tell me what this is all about?" Jon asked. He waited patiently this whole time.
"Well, Zee said meditate. And I thought, well, since I suck at the whole spiritual thing, I should try something I'm good at." I smiled and took one dart. But where should I aim? Maybe I shouldn't.
"Don't stand in front of me." I said and closed my eyes.
"Com'on…" I whispered to myself. I can do it. I can help the King in the North.
I threw the first dart without looking. Silence from both men. I opened my eyes. The dart hit really, really far left. It was stuck in the wall, close to the TV.
"Maybe you should look next time," Mika advised wisely.
"No!" I said. "You're missing the point…" "No, you do." I decided to ignore my sarcastic friend's comment, "Maybe you should zoom out. What about the state of New York?"
I really did hope the damn gate wasn't too far.
Mika zoomed out. I took another dart and closed my eyes. I shot. The dart hit the wall again, but closer to the map. I sighed, praying to every god possible it's not in Russia or Hawaii or something.
"Zoom out." I said again, and the song from yesterday, House of Gold, came back to my mind. Why?
Mika zoomed out, this time to the map of the whole United States.
I closed my eyes and shot. When I opened them, I saw the dart sticking out of the target. It hit California.
Shit.
"Zoom in California." I asked and took the dart out. Then the Heart of Gold lyrics his me.
"I've been to Hollywood, I've been to Redwood."
So it must be one of this places. Hoping it's the latter, I closed my eyes and shot again.
Oh, fuck my life!
It hit in the LA area. I pressed my lips.
"Can I have a map of LA?" I asked. Mika nodded and did his thing. I closed my eyes and shot the last dart.
Hollywood, indeed. The dart landed somewhere in a big movie studio city. No, no, no. Too crowded. Why couldn't it be the Appalachian? Yosemite's? Yellow Rock? A short hike no one really heard about? Somewhere in the middle of Connecticut?
I looked at the film studio, a big white hanger in a neighborhood of big white hangers. Easy.
"So you think it's there?" Jon asked.
"Sadly, I know it's there." I said.
"How far?"
"About two thousand and eight hundred miles, give or take." I said. His eyes got wide as he sat down at the couch.
"It can take us months."
"You can always take a plane." Mika advised. I sighed.
"Not with Ghost," I said. "We'll have to go for the in-between." I'll have to get one of those horse wagons, and we'll camp at night so Ghost can go out to hunt. I'll talk with Dakota in tonight's shift.
"Jon, love, pack your things. We're going to have a week-long road trip first thing in the morning tomorrow."