Chapter Text
Snow crunched loudly beneath Jaime’s feet, disturbing the night’s silence, and puffs of air formed from ragged breaths guided the path towards the forest. The sky was dark, but the path forward was darker. Twisted limbs stretched outward from thick tree trunks, their reach like a lover’s embrace.
Pausing, Jaime glanced skyward and marveled at the beauty of it all, but for the life of him, he could not remember his purpose or direction. His feet had guided him as far as he could retrace steps from his dream, and fleeting memories of a gnarled tree with bright red leaves flashed in mind.
Was this the way? Winter nipped at his nose. The air was crisp and refreshing, and the stars shone brilliantly above, but in the woods, light was limited.
Why am I here? Jaime massaged his forehead. Why is it so bloody cold?
A sharp pain in Jaime’s fingers and toes caused him to glance down, noticing then how ill-equipped he was for the climate. The tips of his fingers were red and numb to the touch, and his feet were damp, near frozen, poorly protected by ankle socks and flip-flops.
These socks are atrocious. Why would I buy such ugly socks?
“James!” A feminine voice called out, desperate and breathless. “James, stop!”
Jaime winced. Jaime, a voice croaked deep within, but it was choked by smoke or steam, he couldn’t be certain. My name’s Jaime.
Turning on heel, Jaime saw a woman approach. She was panting and bundled in garments befitting the weather. Brown hair spilled out in waves from beneath a woolen hat, and rosy cheeks gave life to pale skin.
The woman was nothing remarkable, but she had kind eyes. Jaime always noticed a person’s eyes first.
“My name’s Jaime,” he said, staring vacantly at the woman; his brows knitted in confusion.
Nervous laughter filled the night air as her eyes darted around. “Apologies. I’m not good with names, particularly not the recent arrivals.”
Arrivals? I’ve only just left, though I can’t say from where. Jaime stared at the young woman and felt more confused with every passing moment. He stammered and glanced back towards the woods. “I was just leaving, though I can’t recall if I’m going in the correct direction.”
A warm hand took his own, and the sensation was like ice falling into hot water. “It’s normal to feel confused with such injuries. Head trauma can be a bit disorienting, but you’ve wandered quite a bit from the center. Lets return and get you warmed up.”
As if forgetting something herself, the young woman lifted a finger and chirped excitedly. “I’m Gilly! I keep telling my husband it’s a poor idea to put me on night duty in the memory-loss ward. Even without injury or disease, I’ve always been a bit forgetful.”
Trauma? Memory-loss? Jaime panicked and shook his head in refute. “I’m fine! I was just going somewhere and became a bit turned around.”
Gilly pointed at the badge on her jacket. Offering a sympathetic smile, her finger moved from her badge to the sigil on Jaime’s chest, and he realized then that he was wearing patient’s attire. “No… that can’t be. What happened to me?”
The question appeared to make Gilly more nervous than before. Her gaze darted briefly towards the town at her back before addressing the question. “That’s what my husband will discuss with you tomorrow. Sam is wonderful, truly the best! He’ll sort you out in no time, but it isn’t my place to speak about your medical records. I can share that you were only transported to us today, but I’m not certain how long you were at the hospital.”
Jaime felt pieces of himself falling away like leaves from a tree. He wanted to deny the information, but for the life of him, Jaime couldn’t say where he was or what he was doing. He couldn’t even say who he was; only that his name was Jaime.
Panic set in, but Gilly was patient and kind. “Take deep breaths. You’ve been through a lot, but lets get you back to bed.”
Uncertain what to do, Jaime allowed Gilly to lead the way. His breathing was labored as he desperately tried to remember something, anything, but all Jaime could remember were fleeting images in a dream, and a voice calling him towards the forest.
As if sensing his unease, Gilly spoke in playful tones. “In fairness to me, your file didn’t say you were a wanderer. I’ll certainly not leave the door unlocked the next time, and tempted as I am to ask you not to tell my husband about this little slip-up, who knows if either of us will remember it in the morning.”
Gilly laughed to herself, but Jaime was distracted by the town in the distance. Footprints marked their movements to and from the woods, the only sign of life in the area. Street lamps illuminated the freshly-fallen snow and piled high on cars left parked on the street, but no one else was outside at such an hour.
“Where are we?” Jaime glanced around, searching for street signs that might offer insight.
“Wintertown,” Gilly replied sweetly with a hint of laughter in her tone. “About as far north as any sane person will travel without arctic gear.”
As quickly as the words came out, Gilly panicked. “I don’t mean to imply you’re not sane. To the best of our knowledge, you’re entirely sound of mind… well, aside from the head trauma and memory loss.”
“Perhaps I neglected to inform medical staff that I’m a serial killer.” Jaime huffed, feeling less panicked and more bitter.
“Oh no,” Gilly said, grabbing his arm with her free hand. “We have very little crime this far north, and yours is a face I’d remember seeing on the news if horrible crimes had been committed.”
“Well apparently I like to wander, so I’d not become too comfortable if I were you.” Jaime grumbled more to himself than Gilly, but soon they entered a two-story building nestled on a quiet block lined with stores and a cafe.
Gilly used her badge to unlock the main door, and she guided them down a hallway on the left that required another badge swipe to unlock. How the hells did I get out of here?
Jaime’s head began throbbing again, and he winced, reaching for his scalp. The sensation in his fingertips was slowly returning, and he could feel ridges where he expected smooth contours. Seven hells, I truly did injure myself.
Gilly guided Jaime into a room on the left side of the hall and he took note of the number, 2-107. “How many patients do you treat here?”
“Over 500 between the two wings,” Gilly supplied. “This is wing 2.”
Wing 2 and likely room number 107 , Jaime surmised. As he stepped into the room and appraised the surroundings, he saw an older man with a full head of white hair sitting on the edge of his bed and dressed in similar attire to Jaime.
Upon their entry the man’s head lifted. Sad eyes stared back at Jaime, and Gilly moved quickly towards a large cabinet to procure clean socks and pants. “Lets get you changed into these, James…” she paused, scolding herself quietly before correcting this error. “Sorry. Jaime. We’ll get you warmed right up.”
For a moment, Jaime didn’t move. His gaze slowly shifted from the man on the bed to the fresh garments in Gilly’s hands. “Thank you.”
“Of course!” she chirped, rounding the bed to approach the aged man. “How’s that medication? You’re certainly much calmer now. Goodness the pair of you have made for a proper challenge on your first night here.”
The man shrugged as though it mattered little, and despite his lack of reply, Gilly smiled wide as though all was well. “Good. Lets get you both to bed. Lights out in ten.”
Without another word, Gilly left the room. Jaime heard the distinct ‘click’ of a deadbolt and he turned towards his bed to retrieve the dry clothing. As he approached, his eyes caught sight of two photos set out on the nightstand and a handwritten note.
Jaime slipped out of his wet socks and pants while staring at the pictures. A keycard fell from his pocket, clattering to the ground, and he realized that he had taken someone’s badge, likely the badge used to get out of the building. Unwilling to part with a way out, Jaime tucked the badge between the top mattress and box spring before returning his attention to the nightstand.
One picture looked old and worn, and in it, Jaime had his arm draped over the shoulders of a smaller man. A dwarf. Curious. Do I know a little person?
The second picture was of Jaime standing shirtless on the beach. Compared to the brutal winter outside, the picture was warming and brought a smile to his face. I’d quite like to be there instead of this shit town. Wintertown. What the hells would I want in the bloody North?
Picking up the folded greeting card, Jaime flipped it open. The note was short and punctuated with a heart. ‘Jaime - Wishing you a speedy recovery. You’re a good man and I just want you to be happy.’
Jaime huffed and dropped the card to the nightstand. A lot of good well-wishes do when I can scarcely remember who I am let alone anyone around me.
Feeling fatigue set in, Jaime flopped backwards onto the mattress and crossed his arms behind his head. The pain was slowly subsiding, though it seemed to come in waves.
Across the room, Jaime noticed the man had not moved from the edge of the bed. “I’d ask your name, but considering where we are and your wrinkled face, it’s likely you don’t recall.”
The words came out harsher than intended, but Jaime couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming frustration for his situation that made his tongue sharp, and the only person to take it out on was an old man sharing the cramped room with him. Even as a boy, Jaime often became caustic when frustrated or hurt.
There were no cards nor pictures on the man’s nightstand, and were it not for his physical presence, one could be forgiven for thinking his side of the room uninhabited. A long, weary sigh pushed past the man’s lips. “That’s the third time today you’ve asked my name, though you sound less drunk this time. Likely the meds wearing off.”
The information unnerved Jaime. Again, his head began to throb. Gods dammit! Frustration and bitterness made his tone clipped. “Well it can’t have been important then. An unremarkable name.”
Pulling up the covers, Jaime rolled to his side and tried to force sleep. Everything about the bed and room felt wrong. The space was feeling more like a prison cell with every passing minute, and the man on the opposite side sat rigid like a statue, staring blankly at the door as if willing it open.
Soon the lights went out and Jaime hoped the man would take rest. It made Jaime uncomfortable that his roommate remained awake despite the hour. On the wall hanging over the door, a digital clock displayed the hour in bright red lights.
10:30pm , Jaime noted, letting out a long breath. Tossing and turning, Jaime watched time pass slowly, and still, his roommate remained awake, staring towards the door.
Agitation built as the hour neared midnight. Jaime felt out of control for his situation, and his inability to sleep worsened his mood. Jaime lashed out at the only person he could; his seemingly nocturnal roommate.
“By the Seven would you go to bed! I can’t sleep with a bloody sentry in the room.”
“I don’t sleep much in old age,” the man whispered, but Jaime’s request did not go unanswered. Sliding off the bed, the man sat on the floor facing the door with his legs pulled tight against his chest. In the darkness, Jaime could not see the man’s outline, and he supposed it was victory enough.
Feeling more at ease, Jaime turned his back to the door and clock. Though it took time, Jaime soon felt his eyelids grow heavy. His breathing became even and his body went still as hours of deep and dreamless sleep consumed him. Then, in the darkness of sleep, he heard a male voice, loathing and bitter. “The things I do for love.”
A small, circular light cut through the darkness, and Jaime peered into it. He could see a small boy plummeting from a great height. The boy’s eyes were filled with terror and when his lips parted to scream, no sound came out.
Jaime reached out to try and grab the boy, but his center of gravity was off and he too began to fall. As he fell, loud shouting surrounded him, and an incredible commotion roused Jaime from sleep.
As darkness gave way to light, Jaime realized he had fallen to the floor, panicked, and when he scrambled to all fours, Jaime peered over the edge of his bed. Thank the gods, he thought, grabbing at his chest as the sensation of falling faded away. It was just a dream.
Five orderlies, all dressed in hospital garments, were attempting to subdue Jaime’s aged roommate while two nurses implored the man to calm down. The old man had his back to the wall, and his right arm was raised in warning. He held a tray in hand which the orderlies seemed desperate to avoid, and had Jaime not been so confused, he’d have laughed at the absurdity of it.
“Commander, please!” The nurse appeared desperate standing behind the men, and in her right hand Jaime noticed a long needle. “We’re only trying to help you!”
They meant to sedate the aged man, and at the realization, Jaime’s gaze darted to his roommate who lunged forward and knocked one of the orderlies upside the head with the tray. A loud ‘whack’ filled the room, and as the orderly stumbled backwards, it was then that Jaime realized another man was already unconscious on the floor. Seven hells.
“Undisciplined hacks!” The old man screamed. “I’ve not a proper weapon on my person and I could still bring you down!”
The old man was in fight or flight mode, but Jaime wasn’t certain he understood the concept of flight. An army could have come through the door and the old man would stare them all down with naught but a useless hospital flip-flop in hand.
“Commander Selmy, put down the food tray.” A soft male voice drifted into the room from the hallway. Only a heartbeat later, a short, rotund man in a doctor’s jacket stepped inside.
The doctor raised his hands defensively and stepped past the two nurses. “We talked about this yesterday, did we not? You cannot assault the orderlies when they attempt to help you.”
“Help me!? They mean to numb me!? To take away more of myself! No! No more of that bloody medicine! Get it away!”
Jaime’s eyes darted between the aged man and the portly fellow trying to calm him. The orderlies were useless, and Jaime huffed a small laugh as he watched them cower in fear from an old man brandishing a dented food tray.
“No one is trying to take anything away. We only want to keep you safe.” There was something reassuring about the doctor’s honest eyes. Immediately Jaime trusted him, though he couldn’t say why.
Standing from his position behind the bed, Jaime walked slowly towards his roommate, but kept his eyes on the doctor. “He doesn't want to be sedated, but he’ll calm if you get these men away.”
The old man stared at Jaime as though he’d lost his mind. Lifting the tray in warning, he shook his head. “Don’t come near me.”
Jaime considered the nurse’s use of ‘Commander’ when addressing the man. “Come now, you’re a military man. Order and discipline. Just calm down and there won’t be a need to sedate you, correct doctor?”
Jaime’s gaze returned to the doctor. It was less a question and more a demand. Just reassure the man and spare your orderlies a lengthy sleep induced by a food tray.
Though he appeared displeased, the doctor nodded, his gaze darting to the nurse in instruction. “That’s correct. If he can remain calm, we’ll not need to sedate him.”
“It’s the bloody pills I don’t want!” The aged man pointed to one of the orderlies who held a small white cup in hand. “I’m not taking those!”
On that demand, the doctor appeared less willing to negotiate. “I spoke with the doctor at the facility you were transferred from, and we both agreed it was best to wean you off the medication before removing it entirely. We can try another medication if…”
“No! I don’t want any medication! The pills confuse me and…” the man’s face contorted as if pained, and he struggled to find the words. “I want to go home.”
“Where is home, Commander?” The doctor stepped forward as if trying to reassure a spooked horse. He waved off the orderlies, asking them to leave the room.
Jaime’s gaze darted between his roommate and the doctor, and he watched as the aged man’s brows furrowed. “Westeros.”
Bit vague , Jaime thought, trying not to laugh.
“And where are you now?” The doctor’s tone suggested he knew the answer would be wrong.
“Meereen.” It sounded both a question and an answer, but the absurdity of the response caused Jaime to snort as images of snow from the night prior came to mind.
“Meereen? Did you spend the night staring at the picture on my nightstand? There’s a gods damned blizzard outside!” Jaime laughed, his reaction angering the aged man, but the doctor was quick to intervene.
“Please, Mr Lannister, that is not helpful. Dementia patients can confuse their own life with events or images seen in newspapers, photographs, or books.”
Anger caused the old man’s face to redden and he stepped forward threateningly. “I do not have dementia and my memories are not invented by someone’s blood pictures!”
An apology spilled from the doctor’s lips and he nodded reassuringly. “Of course, and given decades of service in the military, it’s highly likely that you were in Meereen. As I explained yesterday however, this is the North. You were transferred here from the King’s Landing Veterans Center.”
“I don’t want to be here and I did not authorize a transfer,” the man insisted, and all amusement drained from Jaime. He empathized with the man’s confusion and irritation at being somewhere without consent or understanding of how he got there.
Jaime couldn’t say why, but he had the urge to help the man. “You said we both arrived yesterday, correct?”
“Yes, although your arrival was quite the surprise.” The doctor smiled as though excited by the prospect of an unplanned patient. “I’ve been working on Commander Selmy’s case with my counterparts in King’s Landing for some time. The pair of you should make for an interesting group session later today.”
Group session? Jaime’s eyes narrowed at the thought. “Sounds like therapy.”
“In my experience, a group setting can be helpful for coping with memory loss and sometimes, spark recollections.”
Jaime cared little for that. Though he struggled to remember much from his youth, Jaime recalled going to therapy as a boy for a period of time before his mother died. Her death however acted like a black hole, sucking every memory that followed into it.
“Well that sounds lovely ,” Jaime drawled, “but perhaps until we’re forced to divulge our forgotten secrets and fears, we might be left alone without forced medication.”
The remark confused the doctor, and at his back, the nurse leaned forward to appraise her superior’s reaction; the white cup of pills clenched in hand. “Dr Tarly, Commander Selmy’s file was very clear on the necessity of these medications. They’ll prevent the…” her words trailed off as she eyed Jaime, mindful of not discussing another patient's medical records in front of others.
Raising a finger with a nod of understanding, the doctor whispered something indiscernible, only to return his attention to the aged man a heartbeat later. “Lets have your individual session now, Commander, and if by the end we feel it’s necessary for you to take this dosage, we’ll address the matter then.” The offer did little to impress the old man, but he grumbled in agreement.
“Lovely,” the doctor chirped. “Now if I might have that tray.”
“No!” Gripping the tray close to chest, the commander’s head shook in stubborn refusal.
A tight smile reflected the doctor’s discomfort with the situation, but he remained accommodating. “Very well. Why don’t you and your… tray… follow me.”
Jaime watched the pair leave as the worried eyes of nurses followed their movements. The sight amused Jaime greatly. What do they think the old man will do?
With a heavy sigh, Jaime sat on the edge of his bed. He contemplated returning to bed, but knowing a group session awaited him that day prevented relaxation. Memories from youth came in flashes, but strangely, he couldn’t recall anything of his teenage or adult years.
Jaime tried desperately to recall more recent memories, but only visions from dreams came to mind, and what he saw behind closed lids made little sense. A loud knock at the door captured his attention, and Jaime glanced up to see a woman of incredible height slip into the room.
He startled, wondering if she was another orderly given her stature, but her attire suggested that was unlikely. Immediately Jaime was taken aback by her homely features, but the closer she walked, the more Jaime was struck by something else.
The most beautiful set of sapphire eyes he had ever seen sat nestled between countless freckles, a misshapen nose, thick lips, and flushed cheeks. Innocent eyes , he thought, the most pure he’d ever seen.
“Hello, Jaime. It’s good to see you awake.”