My little stint in the fairy-tale hospital wasn't as long as I'd thought it'd be. And I learned two things about my predicament that made it substantially less boring.

The first thing was that mythic healthcare workers were by no means restricted to only using medicine. I found that out the second day of my stay, when a nurse walked- no, floated into my room. She carried a small tray, on which was a smaller cup with a few pills, as well as a plastic cup. The pills, I understood. But the bright blue concoction in the cup? I later found out that that was a potion from an alchemist.

Yeah, you heard me right. A fucking alchemist. Like something out of Skyrim. Add that to the list of "things I didn't understand that I had to deal with later." But the brew worked wonders though. It was apparently made to accelerate the natural healing processes of my body while the pills numbed my pain and kept infections at bay. The only thing I didn't agree with was how it was trying to taste like blueberries. Instead it tasted like the entire perfume section of a mall. Eugh.

The second thing I learned was that my species of wolf was rarer than I'd thought. My doctor offhandedly mentioned that to me as he was clearing me for home rest a few days later. Something about how most of the Nordic wolves had died out or their genes had intermingled with other species so much that they'd lost what it'd meant to be Nordic. Didn't make me feel any better about myself, reminding me about who or what I was. It still didn't feel right. Guess I wasn't that used to it yet.

But hey, I had a week to myself now. That was nice, I guess. As I collected my things and walked out the hospital door into the cool Manhattan air, I took a deep breath and sighed. My bike wasn't here so I had to hail a cab. I didn't know what to do now that I had all this free time to myself. Well, I mean, I did know. As I checked my phone and reoriented myself to what date it was, I remembered what I had to do. So I hailed a cab and, with my hands stuffed in my pockets and a breath exhaled to the cold sky, I travelled down to Broadway.

Every month, I took a day out of my busy schedule to visit my parents. And today was that day. Normally, I'd bring flowers or a card. But since I was just getting out of the hospital, the best I could do was a sandwich from Subway, two chocolate chip cookies and a grape soda. I took my meal all the way to the New York Marble graveyard in NoHo. That's where my folks were buried. By the time I reached the gates, I was munching on my last cookie and my soda was gone. I dusted crumbs from my hands and walked in, taking my time past the rows of headstones and graves.

Just before my dad had died of lung cancer, he'd requested to be buried here. Private plot and everything. I'd come to visit him every month since. Rain or shine. Only times I'd ever missed a visit were when I was too sick to move, or the period when my mom was depressed enough to not leave the apartment. Then when she'd passed on, she'd gotten a grave next to his. And I never stopped the visits either. Although, with work being as it was, I didn't visit every month nowadays. But I still tried.

The plot in question was a small, fenced-off affair in the furthest corner of the graveyard. Very few people, if any at all, went there. From what I'd heard, this particular plot was for cops and the families of cops. So I figured I'd end up there at some point, just hopefully later rather than sooner. But as I walked to the small gate that closed the area off, I felt a familiar electric tingle in the air. The feeling only intensified the closer I came and when I opened the gate and walked through, I saw why.

A bright flash of white light and fire engulfed my body as I felt myself drop down to all fours. In a bit of mild panic, I bumbled into one of the fences, smashed my face against it and dropped to the ground in pain. Then I remembered what it all meant: that this place was protected by magic. Like the Greenwich tavern and the hospital wing that shouldn't exist.

I shook myself off, sent my mind to recall the spell that changed me back to human form, got back on two legs and went to my parents' graves. They were still there, weathered headstones and all. A light covering of moss at the base, but otherwise kept clean and dusted. The words were worn from years of rain and snow eroding the stone, but they were still legible.

"John Foster Anderson
1949 - 2011
A good man with a great heart

Magdalena Frost
1953 - 2011
Sorely missed"

I slowly ran a hand over the tops of each headstone, thinking back to the memories I had with them. The good times and the bad. My first trip to Coney Island and getting a stomach ache from my first corn dog. Arguments over taxes and money and late nights out drinking. Dad bringing work home and mom fussing over him. The low murmur of a television set left on, my dad snoring in his easy chair. The beeping of the cardiac monitor that turned to a droning tone when his heart eventually stopped.

All that time. Twenty-seven years we had together, as a family. And not once did I know of what I was. As honest as dad was, to know that he was this tight-lipped about his past... It was a fact I was still coming to terms with. He was a wolf like I was. Yet he'd died of lung cancer like any other regular person. I stared at my hands. I was human, but I was also a frigging wolf. And yet I was still subject to the risk of every health ailment under the sun. It suddenly felt very unfair and unreal and I could feel myself start panicking again. The same feeling I'd had after waking up in the basement of that laundromat all those days ago. The sense that I couldn't trust anything or anyone and that I should just run away from it all and never look back.

But before I could break down, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Warm. Affirming. And when I turned around, I saw a rather unexpected, yet familiar face behind me.

"H-Hendrix?"

The portly laundromat owner nodded and stepped around me to gesture at the headstones of my parents.

"Here to visit the folks, eh kid?" He asked, affixing his eyes on me.

"Yeah. How'd you know I was here?"

He shrugged.

"I was outside, seeing an old friend of mine from a time gone by. Saw you walking in. Thought I'd follow."

Hendrix paused to briefly wipe a slight sheen of perspiration from his brow and I realised that, other than him zapping me in the back, I'd never really seen him from behind his desk before. He was still the rather portly man I'd remembered, slightly shorter than I was, with that same hidden strength beneath the flab that I knew instinctively was there. A part of me didn't believe that he'd been friends with my dad for years, but at this point I was inclined to believe anything, given what I'd been through these last few weeks.

Wait a minute.

"Hang on, Hendrix. Didn't the gate zap you on the way in?"

"What, that thing?" He raised an eyebrow at me and glanced back at the gate. Then he realised what I was getting at and shook his head. "Oh no, kid. I don't have an animal form like you do. I'm merely a practitioner of the arts. Ain't nothing special about me except that."

Oh. And here I thought everybody I met was going to be a funny animal person from a Disney movie. My mind wandered back to the current scene. It was rather fitting that one of dad's friends was here to comfort me.

"Thanks, Hendrix. I've just been so confused and lost these last few weeks. After all this happened to me, I'm kinda struggling to make sense of it all and deal with it, y'know?" I shrugged. In response, he patted my shoulder and gave me a warm smile, the first I'd ever seen on him.

"Hey, don't worry about it, kid. If it's any consolation, your dad was the same way when he found out about all this. He even got it the exact same way you did. I helped."

Before I knew it, I was walking back outside with him to sit on a metal bench in a more open part of the graveyard. A moment of quiet passed between us, after which he spoke.

"Y'know, your dad was a real upstanding guy."

"But it feels like, even after all these years, I didn't know him. He kept this huge secret from me for so long, I don't even know if I'll be able to live with it."

"I don't blame you. It's a big deal, knowing that your whole life was a lie from the get go. But hey, I went through it. Your dad did too. And I'm not saying that to make it sound like it's no big deal. We paved the way for you young folks to have an easier time in this whole period of transition and learning."

Hendrix shifted in his seat and patted me on the shoulder.

"It's partly why I set up the laundromat. It's why your dad made Eddie have my name card and prepared all these things for you. So you wouldn't have as hard a time coping as he did. And besides, he knew you'd have the balls to go through with it. You're a strong kid. Stronger than you think. And I don't say that lightly neither."

He poked my chest with a sausage finger.

"You're gonna be like your dad, I know it. Gut feeling. He brought you up right. Good heart in your chest. Don't waste it."

And he accentuated that last one with a sharp poke to my chest with each word. It hurt, but what he said felt real. Real enough that I felt a twinge of guilt in my heart for even doubting myself. I leaned back on the bench and sighed, my eyes directed upwards to the sky for a few moments. I didn't know what to say as Hendrix stood and straightened his jacket. Before he left, he glanced at me.

"Don't go about the rest of your life thinking you're alone. You've got folks by your side that care about you and support you. Always. You need someone to talk to about all this," he gestured vaguely around himself. "Come find me. You know where I work."

He turned and walked away, leaving me in a stunned, confused funk. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut and then gave me an Advil and a pat on the back. Or maybe it was the head injury coming back to haunt me. I didn't know. All I knew was that I hurt. My head hurt. My neck ached. But above all else, my heart was torn by the consequences of my own actions. I'd gotten myself and Evelyn hurt because I was in a hurry to catch our guy. And that stung. We could've both gotten killed and it was my fault.

I shook my head, feeling the tears pooling in my eyes. I couldn't, not right now. Instead, I pulled out my phone and shot a short text message to Dylan, asking him if he knew if Evelyn was due for discharge soon. He replied that she wasn't due for a discharge yet, but her doctor gave her two to three days tops. So I decided to visit her, just a day later. I was still beat from today's rather emotional events and I needed time to rest.

I left the cemetery, flagged a cab and went home. Tomorrow was a new day. But today? I needed a hot shower, a glass of whiskey and a soft bed.