Jon

Jon was woken by the sound of Ghost's howling. He shot up, looking around at the camp. The rest of his party was stirring too. Something is wrong.

"Ghost, quiet," he said, ordering the wolf who was only a few feet away from him. But Ghost seemed to ignore him, and continued to howl.

He looked around and saw that the fire was dying, despite there being no shortage of firewood. It had been Ebben who was on watch for them that night, but Jon could see no sign of the torturer anywhere as he stood.

"Where's Ebben?" Stonesnake asked. "Did he go off looking for wildlings?"

"He wouldn't have gone without telling us, or alone," Qhorin said.

"Well he's not here," Stonesnake pointed out. "He must have gone somewhere. The fire's low, so he didn't leave to take a piss." Jon could feel the cold coming over them, colder than he had ever felt before. He bent down and tossed a few logs onto the fire.

"What are you doing lad?" asked Qhorin.

It was Dalbridge who answered, before Jon had the chance to. "Do you feel it? The cold?"

The Halfhand looked at the old squire curiously. "What of it?"

Dalbridge had a hard look on his face. "No wildling ever brought a cold like this."

It didn't take long for the Halfhand to realize what the squire was telling him. "The Others…"

"Aye," Dalbridge said. "You said you burned those corpses that came for Mormont at Castle Black, didn't you?"

Jon nodded. He had used oil and a sheet then though, and his hand still had the burns to prove it. Now they would be fighting with makeshift torches, and he had little confidence that they would fare well. But at least they would have some fire.

"Are they going to come for us?" Stonesnake asked.

Qhorin pondered the question for a moment, before he spotted tracks that must have been made by Ebben when he had left the camp. "We won't let them have the chance," he told them. "Once those sticks are ready, we'll track them."

Squire Dalbridge looked at him nervously, and Stonesnake did not look so confident either. The first time Jon had ever seen one of Qhorin's men unsure of a plan of his. It seemed to Jon that only Ghost approved of the plan, as he had finally stopped howling. Neither Dalbridge or Stonesnake raised questions though, and Jon did the same. Instead, they began to prepare.

Jon first put on the light ringmail that he had been given by Donal Noye before he had left Castle Black- it wasn't much, but it would offer at least a little protection. After that, he found his sword belt that carried Longclaw and one of the Dragonglass daggers he had gathered at the Fist of the First Men. After that, he put on a second layer of furs to try and combat the frigid temperatures.

The other men did not take long to put on their armor either. Their armor was light, just like Jon's, and thus better suited for travel, though older and more worn from years of use. Both Squire Dalbridge and Stonesnake had put on another layer of furs over top like Jon as well, though the Halfhand didn't.

The fire had done its job well enough too. When they pulled the sticks from the fire, all were still burning, though all their flames were dying at least a little from the cold. Jon was not so sure their fires would be enough to kill any wights, but he went along with it anyway. Like what the other men were doing, he held his stick down instead of up, which helped with keeping the flames going.

It took a little longer for them to mount their horses, who were nervous around the fire, but they were eventually able to calm them. As they began to set off, Jon felt nervous. "Lead the way, Ghost," he said to his direwolf, pointing at Ebben's tracks in the snow. "Take us to him."

Ghost put his head down, and started to lead them, and Jon rode up first behind him, with the others coming after.

Their torches helped to light the way some, though it seemed Ebben had taken a path that was not too difficult. Only twice did Jon need to lower his head to avoid a branch, and the horses seemed to have no problems with the terrain.

Within a few minutes they came to a clearing where the tracks started to change. Ebben had not been the only one, anymore. He had either joined with another group or had started to follow their tracks. Or been followed himself, a voice inside of Jon whispered.

"Do you see the other tracks?" Stonesnake asked when he noticed the other sets of tracks. "Ebben wasn't alone out here."

"I see them," the Halfhand replied, as Jon looked back to see him paying a glance at the ground. The seasoned ranger made a quick judgement, but took a couple of minutes of contemplation for what they should do next. "We'll keep going," he announced.

And so they did. Ghost continued to lead them back through the woods, though now Jon found himself wishing he would have a third arm that he would be able to keep on the hilt of his sword, with his two hands firmly grasping the reins in the event that his horse was spooked by something.

It felt like they rode through the heavy brush for another hour at least. Their torches had all died down to embers that failed to give off any light, and now each step brought the increasing fear that their horses might stumble and break a leg. But they pressed on anyway.

Just when they were about to reach another clearing, Ghost stopped, and started to bark. His view was blocked by the mass of brush and leaves, but it seemed that Dalbridge was able to see from behind him. "Ebben?" the one time squire to King Jaehaerys II called out.

The figure moved, and now Jon could see it. He was not able to recognize Ebben, or see much of it, but he did recognize its blue eyes. They weren't like normal eyes. With how they glowed in the dark, he knew they belonged to a dead man. "He's a wight," Jon said, letting go of his reins and drawing his sword.

Before the Halfhand had a chance to order them to fall back, the wight started to attack, rushing at them. The corpse of Ebben moved at an unbelievable speed, which wouldn't have given them time to turn their horses around and retreat back through the narrow path they'd come through. Taking the initiative, Jon leapt down from his horse, holding Longclaw in his right hand, and his torch in the left, readying to fight.

Before the wight was able to reach them, Ghost jumped onto him, taking the blue-eyed wight down. As the direwolf began savaging the corpse, ripping at its flesh with his claws and teeth, Jon and the others rushed forward. By the time they were up to the white wolf and the wight, Ghost was tearing at the wight's chest.

Without fire, Ghost would have to tear the wight to pieces, which Jon figured the direwolf might have been capable of- were it not for the wight raising its arms. Ebben's corpse seemed like it was going to make an attempt to strangle Ghost, so Jon rushed forward and brought Longclaw down, cleanly severing one arm at the elbow with a single blow.

When the others caught up, Stonesnake took off Ebben's head, which didn't stop the rest of the body, as Jon could feel the severed hand grabbing around his ankle. Both Qhorin and Dalbridge were trying to light it on fire, but it seemed their torches were too dim to ignite anything. Jon could see it was going to be fruitless, and started to hack away at the corpse.

"Help me destroy it!" he yelled at the rest. "We can't burn it."

They did as he ordered, helping him and Ghost as they tried to tear the corpse into pieces. Jon took the hand off of his leg and broke each one of the fingers that was still moving, before he took Longclaw and cut them all off.

Then he turned his attention to the severed head, which was making strange inhuman noises. He began considering the possibility of using that dragonglass dagger he had at his belt, or whether it was best to just chop it into bits or even leave it alone. Before he could make up his mind though, he heard old Squire Dalbridge cry out in pain.

Jon turned around just in time to see a red blade jutting from his chest. He could see smoke coming from the wound, and the cold white figure behind him, that seemed to emit a glow in the darkness, revealing the figure to almost be seven feet tall if he had to guess. The Others, he thought to himself, thinking back to all those stories Old Nan had told him and Robb about the monsters of wintery nights.

To his surprise, the creature did have a face and a human face at that, though it betrayed no emotion or expression. It was just as cold as the air, with a vacant expression as it effortlessly pulled the blade out of Daldbridge's chest, causing the man to collapse.

Qhorin turned, swinging his blade hard and fast, but the Other was able to quickly block it. A brief duel ensued between the two, where Jon couldn't help but notice small bits of ice forming on the blade. Though the Halfhand may have been among the greatest warriors that he'd ever seen, he was no match for the white walker either. Eventually, Qhorin Halfhand made one last desperate attack, which made a particularly horrible ringing noise that reverberated around the forest.

When the Other brought its own counter-attack, the frost and the force exerted on the blade proved to be too much. The monster of frost's blade was unstoppable, as it broke straight through the Halfhand's blade, which broke in two. The white sword continued straight into the man's head, nearly splitting him in two.

With Qhorin Halfhand and Squire Dalbridge both dead now, Jon realized he'd gotten lost in watching the fight around him. They'll kill us if we don't fight. He raised Longclaw, standing side-by-side with Stonesnake, ready to face the advancing Other that had killed both the Halfhand and the elderly squire. The two surviving men shared a brief look, wordlessly agreeing to charge. An agreement that Stonesnake suddenly backed out of.

As the climber whirled around, Jon felt a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder. He'd been struck by whatever Stonesnake had reacted to, and felt overwhelmed by the pain momentarily.

Luckily, he was able to recover from the pain just quickly enough to look at what Stonesnake had reacted to. It was an Other, just like the one that was approaching from them from their backside now, and it had struck him over the shoulder with the flat of its blade. He didn't have time to consider the one that was coming up behind him now though as the one that had struck him made another attack. Jon was just barely able to raise his blade to meet it. The collision made a loud ringing noise, and nearly sent Jon sprawling backwards, but somehow he managed to stand his ground.

While Stonesnake had turned his attention back to the first of the icy monsters, Jon remained focused on the one in front of him. It came at him with a quick flurry of attacks, left, right, over the top, then right again. Jon managed to block every one of them, making the same horrible ringing noise each time, even worse than the sound that was made when Stonesnake or the Halfhand's blades had connected with their swords, which looked like they were made of ice, like their armor.

Despite his valiant effort, Jon knew he couldn't keep this up for long. He was tired, and his shoulder throbbed with each parry sending a new wave of pain. Whatever this monster was, it struck with a strength greater than Jon had ever faced in a human foe. He couldn't win this fight, and he doubted Stonesnake was faring much better against his foe behind him.

In desperation, he felt his hand move to his belt, where the dragonglass dagger was. Jon didn't know what instinct had taken over him, but he found himself grasping the dagger. Then, instead of trying to block the incoming swing, he ducked, and threw it at the Other.

The blade struck the strange creature squarely in what Jon perceived to be its chest, and Jon watched, half in awe and half in horror as a loud crack echoed loudly, followed by an even louder scream. A wail almost- a final cry in pain by this dying creature, as it exploded into thousands of small shards of ice, while its sword fell harmlessly to its side.

He managed to cover his eyes just in time, though he could feel the small shards cut him on his face where they struck, and when he finally looked, he saw they had cut his shirt too.

Jon knew he did not have time to celebrate his victory though. As he looked behind him, he could only hear Ghost's growls, at the Other who had killed the Halfhand and Dalbridge. Stonesnake was dead too, laying at the feet of the icy monster that had killed him, having been stabbed cleanly through the right side of his chest.

His only chance was gone now. The dragonglass dagger that had caused the Other to shatter was now lost after he'd thrown it and he didn't have the time or the light to make a scramble for it. That was if it hadn't shattered with the creature. He hadn't had a chance against the first one, until he'd thrown the dagger, what chance did he have now? Even Ghost looked afraid.

Yet seeing the monster there, standing over the broken bodies of the men he had been traveling with filled him with a fit of rage. He did not know where the strength came from, but he managed to charge at the Other, making one vicious attack after another, forcing him to counter and parry.

The strength left him as quickly as it came though. Jon found himself losing ground with this one just as he had with the first. He tried in vain to find an opening, though he couldn't. At least Longclaw did not seem like it was possibly going to break as the Halfhand's sword had, or shatter as he saw must have happened to Stonesnake's sword.

His strength finally failed him, as the Other brought down his sword over Jon's left shoulder. He managed to block the blade away, but he dropped Longclaw in the process, and felt the sword fall into the snow next to him.

Jon fell to his knees, preparing himself, as the Other raised his head. He couldn't see Ghost at all, and when he looked, he saw that the horses had all fled. It wouldn't be long before the corpses animated either, he figured. He sucked in air, taking a deep breath as he prepared for what would happen next.

Rather than looking at what was to be his killer, he looked up, into the clear night sky. He could hear the icy monster preparing to bring its sword down onto him, when for half a heartbeat, he could have sworn the stars were moving.

Then all at once, he was no longer in the forest. He was in a bedchamber, with a window that overlooked a castle below. Jon did not know what this castle was, though it seemed strangely familiar to him. Is this death? Is this what comes after?

Jon was not alone. As he looked around the room, his eyes finally locked on a woman standing in front of him. She was beautiful, with dark black hair, a slim figure and haunting purple eyes- only the lines around her eyes seemed to indicate anything about her age. She was nearing forty, though only the lines around her eyes betrayed it. "Who are you?"

The woman had a tear glistening in her eye. In fact, she seemed to be holding in a sob. "I-I'm the one you've always sought," she answered, her voice not much louder than a whisper. "The utter fool who failed you more than any other."

"Mother?" Jon couldn't imagine who else she would be. "Are you my mother?"

"Jon," she said, as another tear formed and left her eye, falling down her fair cheek. She raised her hand to touch his face. "I… I'm sorry… I'm sorry it has to be like this."

"What…?"

"You and your sister deserved better from me," the woman said softly. Her voice was filled with grief and sorrow, but didn't waver this time. "I shouldn't have given you up- but this is the price I have to pay."

"Where are we?" When Jon looked around, he thought this room was familiar. He might have dreamt of it once or twice, even though he couldn't remember any details. It seemed like just another room, in all honesty, part of the castle like anything else. "How are we here?"

"We're not really here," she told him. "You're beyond the Wall, and I'm far far away. This was the only way I could come to you."

"Who are you?" Jon already knew the answer. He knew who she was. He'd always known who she was, from the stories, though he'd never accepted it as the truth without his father's word.

"My mother named me Ashara," she said with her hushed voice. "She named your sister too, but she didn't name you. It was your uncle that named you."

"My… uncle?" She couldn't have been talking about Uncle Benjen. Jon had always been told it was for Jon Arryn he had been named for. Maester Luwin, father, Ser Rodrik, all of them had readily told him that information when he asked. "What do you mean?"

"Your uncle," she said with a nod, lifting her head to meet him. "Lord Eddard."

"My father-"

"Brandon was your father," she said, allowing that to hang in the air for a minute.

It was Jon who eventually broke the silence. "Why did fa-" Jon stopped to correct himself. "Why did Lord Eddard-"

"-Lie?" She finished. "To protect us… to protect our family. It was the only way." She opened her arms with a sad look on her face. "I'm sorry child… I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. A-and… and now…" Her voice finally broke.

"I'm not dead yet, am I?" Jon was not scared by death, though he wanted to know if this was really it. "You're still alive."

She nodded, wiping away more tears from her eyes. "The gods are taking you away… To punish me for giving you up, my sweet little son." His mother stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him. "I… I've been watching you… you and Allyria all this time." She let go of him, sniffling as she did. "I hoped that one day I might be able to hold you again. But this is all the gods will avail me, it seems." His mother sniffled again, then spoke again, with an even more faint whisper. "I… I love you Jon. Always remember that- wherever you go."

All at once, the vision faded. The stars stopped moving, and Jon was still in the forest, deep in the Frostfangs. But despite the environment being the same, things around him were not.

The Other was no longer in front of him, and he was not alone either. He heard the awful sound of its sword clashing with someone else's, which was almost as bad as the noise it had been making when it struck Longclaw. In the clearing not so far off, Jon saw a strange figure that had not been there before dueling with the glowing white creature.

His shoulder was still throbbing, and Longclaw was laying on the ground right in front of him. His deceased comrades were just where they had been before he'd gone into that vision with his mother. This is real, he told himself, though he hadn't been aware of anyone nearby prior to the Others attack. You hadn't been aware of the Others either, fool.

The two danced back and forth. Surprisingly, the stranger was holding his own against the Other, but Jon knew sooner or later, he would need help. Their voice was surprisingly high pitched though as they occasionally groaned with effort. He found Longclaw on the ground, and picked it up, struggling back to his feet, and started over to the clearing. There was a cut on his leg that he hadn't noticed before, and he limped more than he walked. But he didn't take long to reach the clearing, where he spotted Ghost too, trying to aid the stranger, though the Other seemed to regard him as little more than a nuisance.

Jon stayed quiet, careful not to announce his presence, and staggered forward. The stranger seemed to take notice of him, and made sure to keep the Other's back to him. Each step sent a new wave of pain into his leg, but when he was less than five paces away, Jon raised Longclaw and charged again.

The Other turned, and was able to block Jon's swing, but that only left it vulnerable to the stranger's attack. Their sword was suddenly jutting out from the Other, which let out an awful cry just like when Jon had thrown the dagger into it, but it did not shatter. As the stranger pulled out their sword, he brought down Longclaw, slicing the icy creature's arm off at the shoulder. It fell to the ground, the snow undisturbed under the creature's corpse.

Though he could not see very well thanks to the absence of the Moon, he could tell that no blood was pouring from the monster's wounds. It had stopped moving, but the icy chill remained.

Things began to change though. Now with the Other dead, Jon's attention was absorbed by the pain that was wracking his body, and the stranger who had saved him. In the starlight, Jon could dimly make out his figure.

Not his figure, Jon suddenly realized. Her figure. It was a woman, only a little less than two inches shorter than him. She was slender and shapely, with long legs, wearing trousers rather than some kind of skirt. Her green eyes seemed to shine in the starlight, which illuminated her fair skin.

"T-thank you," Jon said nervously, not knowing what else to say. She was not dressed like a wildling or a northerner. In fact, he struggled to recall if he had seen anyone ever wearing something like what she was wearing. It wasn't armor, more like a riding or traveling outfit, with a thin long-sleeve white blouse that was tucked into leather gloves that matched her trousers, and a brown corset that she wore on the outside that covered her from waist to her breasts, studded with a handful of blue jewels. Despite how woefully underdressed she was, she didn't seem to be bothered by it at first.

The woman crouched down to study the corpse of the fallen creature, touching it carefully. "I've never seen anything like this before," she said. "Have you?"

"I've heard stories, and I've fought creatures like them." Jon said. He didn't know how else to describe the wights they had faced at Castle Black to her.

"But you never faced one of these until tonight," she guessed. "What do you call them on this world?"

"O-Others," Jon answered. On this world? "We call them the Others."

She nodded. "And what are you called? What's your name?"

"Jon Snow," he told her, trying to sound confident. He was not sure if the woman was making him nervous, or his vision.

"Where are you from?"

"Winterfell," he said with some uncertainty. He didn't even know who he really was anymore. The fact that he was from Winterfell was one of the few things he did feel was the same.

"Winterfell…" she mused, sounding as though she did not know what it was.

Ghost made his way up to Jon's side, then carefully made his way up to the stranger, and began to circle her, sniffing and probably examining her.

"This wolf," the woman began, "is it yours? Is it your pet or companion?"

"His name is Ghost," Jon replied. "He's a direwolf."

"A direwolf?" she repeated, amazed. "Geralt told me those went extinct in our world. But here you keep one as a pet? And an albino at that?"

Jon shook his head. "They were thought to be extinct here, at least south of the Wall." He thought he was beginning to catch on to what she was meaning when she said from her own world. "That was until my brother and I found one, a dead mother, and her litter of pups. Direwolves are the sigil of our house- house Stark."

Ghost began to nestle his head against the strange woman's waist, which caused her to giggle. "Ooh, I think he likes me. What do you think?"

"Where are you coming from? How did you find me?"

"A chance encounter," she admitted. "Saw the creature about to kill you and sprung into action. Were you traveling alone?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. He pointed over to the spot where he'd initially been fighting. "But they killed my companions."

The young woman went over to that spot. He noticed her youth for the first time, as she was probably only seventeen or eighteen if he had to guess, not too much younger than he was- while she was walking over to the spot where his companions had been killed.

"You shouldn't get too close. They'll come back as wights-" Jon was almost in awe of her unwavering confidence.

"Wights, huh? I'll be quick then," she assured him.

He noticed that she was wearing her sword slung over her back, rather than hanging from a scabbard at her waist for the first time as she bent over. She rummaged through the corpses a little, considering each of them, then finally took one of the black cloaks (probably the one with the least amount of blood on it) and took it, donning it over the top of her outfit.

"That's better," she said, putting up the hood. Then she walked back over to Jon. "Come on, let's get out of here now."

"What's your name?" he asked.

"You can call me Ciri. Or if you'd like, Cirilla of Cintra." She did not allow him much time to register that though, as she reached out a hand, while putting her other on Ghost's furry back- which the wolf didn't resist oddly. "I'll get us to someplace safe for the night."

Hesitantly, Jon took her hand, staring into her emerald green eyes. Uncertain as he was, he'd seen how she fought against the Other. He knew she was his best hope of survival now. Trusting her was his only option.

Then he was blinded by a sudden flash of light, and just at that moment, it became day.

Jon sucked in a deep breath, expecting it to be still cold. Only, it wasn't. They weren't standing in the woods either, with several dead bodies. They were standing on a street that wasn't made of cobblestone or dirt, but this strange black stuff, and the city… there were some truly monstrously large buildings around them, things that were nothing at all like he'd ever seen.

It was too much for him to take in. He began to wretch.

"There it is," his savior muttered. "Go on, let it out, Jon Snow. Let it all out."

That he did. There wasn't much in his stomach, but it all came out regardless.

Ghost meanwhile, seemed to be in just as much confusion as he was. He looked dizzy and frightened, falling to the ground several seconds later.

"Ghost!" Jon called out, going over to the great direwolf. "Ghost…"

He fell on top of the albino wolf. But it was immediately evident that the wolf was still alive.

Behind him, he heard Ciri sigh. "Boys…" she muttered again, before speaking louder. "I know this was your first time, but doesn't this seem just a little overly dramatic?"

Jon tried not to cower away from her. But he was afraid. "You saved our lives," he said, trying not to gasp for breath. "W-what is this?"

Her hands were on his shoulder, pulling away his cloak and clothes a little to reveal his shoulder. "Yeesh," she said, quietly. "I brought you here to get help. There's a doctor here I trust."

"A… doctor?" Jon asked. "What's-"

"-You don't have doctors in your world?" she asked, not giving him the chance to finish. "Healers, medics… do you have those?"

"Yes, we call them maesters." He wretched a final time, but nothing came up.

"Right," she said, pulling Jon up to his feet.

As they walked, Jon took note of his savior. She was not an exceptional beauty, the type of woman who men would wage wars over just to gain her hand in marriage, but she was pretty in her own way. When he first saw her hair, he thought that there was a chance she might be much older than he thought, it wasn't blond or brown or black, but grey. Ashen-grey. But the rest of her- her posture, her unwrinkled skin, all seemed to affirm Jon's initial deduction that had been made in the darkness. Her ears were a little long, and her eyes really were that pretty shade of emerald green. All of her suggested a more casual prettiness, something like what the steward's daughter, Jeyne Poole had. That was except for the scar on the left side of her face. It started just under her eye and curved outwards along her cheek.

He didn't want to seem like he was ogling her though, so he found other things to look at. But the stench of the city was… not as bad as he thought it would be.

They were in a city, that much was clear. But it wasn't like one he'd ever been in before. The buildings, the ambience, the layout, the road… all of it was different. "Ciri…" he began to say, "where are we?"

She turned and looked at him. "Tessina, I think. The twenty-third century, about to be the twenty-fourth."

Jon suddenly stopped. "After Aegon's Conquest?" It was only the third century.

The young woman just giggled. "Oh, I should have told you that we're probably not in your world anymore. We're somewhere else entirely."

Now his head was spinning. "What do you mean?"

"We need to get to Dr. Dover's office. It should be just around the corner," she said, not answering his question. "Your wolf can't be out in the open like this for long…"

He realized for the first time that it wasn't quite daytime as he had imagined. It was just after sunrise, so the city was not quite awake yet. Which was probably how such a monstrously large wolf had gone unnoticed to this point. Luckily, Ghost had recovered well enough that he was following after them.

As they rounded the corner- they came across a building that Ciri seemed to be most interested in. "Ah, here it is," she said, smiling. "Dr. Dover's practice."

Jon was still confused as she left him by Ghost and walked up to the door. He had never been given much of a taste of life in a city- apart from the month that he and his father had spent in White Harbor when there was consideration for the possibility of him marrying one of Lord Wyman's granddaughters. Ultimately, the smell had made him force the plans to come to an end, owing to the fact that he couldn't stand the stench of the city, no matter how much people told him he would eventually get used to it. Wynafryd, had been that girl's name, one of a couple of noble women who there had been consideration for Jon marrying, though none of them had come to pass. There was a part of him now that wished he might have considered such a path for himself.

She walked right up to the door, and twisted a strange circular contraption within the door. And a strange ringing came in response- from inside the house. "What?" she asked, as she turned around, noticing his gaping. "Does your world not have doorbells?"

"My… world?"

"Forget it," she said, "I'll explain everything inside, alright?"

Just then, the door opened. "Ciri," a middle-aged man said, a little surprised to see her. "Guests too, this time?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Jon is hurt… if you have a room without a long sight… whatever those things are called, that would be splendid."

The man, Dr. Dover, glanced over between Jon, and then at Ghost, and went almost as white as the albino direwolf. "That wolf…"

Ciri glanced over at the strange wall that looked something like a gate- even though it was just for a house. "You have room in your garage, don't you?"

"Yes but… the food and excrement- if you would pardon me ma'am. Is it even tame?"

Jon suddenly felt Ciri's eyes on him- looking for him to answer.

"Ah… yes," he replied, unable to sound confident with his own answer. "Ghost obeys."

The next hour or so was a blur, as Jon tried to process everything that was going on. There were so many peculiarities that he struggled to understand, from how the gate to the thing Ciri called garage opened and closed to the antiques, trinkets and furniture of the house- the strange design of the walls, and even more. Even when it came to treating Jon's wounds, the doctor seemed to use tools and treatments that were so foreign to him.

It wasn't until Dr. Dover stepped out that Jon finally had a chance to ask questions. But even then, he was still so terribly tired, that he might have just fallen asleep. Luckily, Ciri didn't make him ask her for it.

"I owe you an explanation, don't I?" she said, while still sitting at Jon's bedside. "I'll have you know that I'm not some great goddess from whatever stories you've been told. I'm a real person, just with magical abilities and powers. Like a god, I suppose you could say, but I'm not actually one." She went over to the bookshelf in the corner and carefully perused the titles, until she found one that was of satisfaction. "Think of this as… let's just say if the worlds of all the fictional stories you've read were… true, but they didn't exist in the same plane as you. They weren't within your world's past, or in some distant planet in the stars either. They were… in their own separate existence."

Jon frowned. "You're saying this is just a story?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm using it as a metaphor, Jon. The different worlds aren't different stories or anything. They're all unique and special in their own way, if that makes sense. But people like you or Dr. Dover can't travel between them. My special ability is that I can travel between them. Worlds of more advanced societies like this one, worlds like yours and mine, and more."

"We have to go back," he said, groaning as he pushed himself up a little bit. "I can't stay here."

"We're not going to. I'll take you back to your world, just as soon as you've recovered. Since I can also control what time we go back to, I'll make sure it's safe for us to return."

"Us," Jon repeated.

"Yes, you dolt. Us." She shrugged. "I know you're probably confused why I saved you."

"Please do tell," he agreed.

"Well… there was something that drew me to your world… something that I felt made me need to go there, even though I haven't ever been to it before. And I felt that I had to save you."

"Why?" he said, knitting his eyebrows. "I'm not ungrateful, but… I'm just a bastard…"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe destiny wants me to help you and your world with those monsters we fought… or maybe you're to help me out with some of my problems. Ooh, you are rather handsome, you know," she said, giving a slight blush.

Jon went a little bit red too.

"Come on, move over," she said, urging him to move closer towards the wall. "I'm tired too, you know."

"You're sleeping in bed with… me?"

"I see no reason why not," she said. "I want to get to know you better before I see this world of yours."

Jon took a deep breath. She saved my life, he thought to himself. Without her, I'd be dead, or without any chance of making it back to the Wall. I need to make sure she won't leave me.

"Fine…" he said.

Ciri gave him a suspicious look as she began adjusting the blankets. "Oh… you don't snore badly, do you?"

"I've never gotten any complaints," Jon answered.

"Good," she said, as she began removing her boots.

"What is the doctor's name?" he asked. "You only call him Dr. Dover."

"Well…" she turned and gave him a serious look. "His name is Ben."

"Ben?" Jon repeated. Ben was a name from his own world too, like his Uncle Benjen… but the combination of his first and last name. "His name is Ben Dover?"

Her face continued to be serious. "What? It's not like it was his choice. Apparently, he took his mother's maiden name after she and his father got a divorce, and the father left their lives entirely- so he took his mother's name. A rather unfortunate one, I suppose." Once her boots were removed, she got into the bed next to him. "Do you like me, Jon?" she suddenly wondered.

"Uhhm," he began to say. "You saved my life…"

"Yes," she nodded. "But do you… like me?"

Jon looked at her carefully. He was scared of her more than anything, of her power, how much he needed her to rescue him… and yet…

"I think so," he confessed.

Ciri gave a slight smile. "I think I like you too."

Author Notes:

Hehehehehehehe