Follow You Home

It's been two days since I was admitted to the hospital with a concussion and a bruised rib. The doctors wanted to keep me for observation, just in case I fell down and hit my head again, I guess. John has been with me 24/7, and my entire family has been in and out of my room, driving me crazy. I'm going crazy in the hospital though, and I'm ready to go home to my apartment and get on with life.

I'm sitting in my hospital bed, absently watching the TV. John is sitting in a chair beside the bed, not saying anything. He's been great while I've been in the hospital, he even brought me sweat pants and a hoodie from home so I didn't have to sit around in an ass-less hospital gown. I'm still a little woozy from the concussion and occasionally I have trouble focusing or I get a headache, but the symptoms are fading. Someone knocks gently on the door and then opens it. I look up to see Frank walking in. John turns the TV down as he walks over to my bed and gives me a kiss.

"Hey, you look good. How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"I'm good. Feeling better ."

"I've got some news. Drita D'Angelo was arrained this morning. Her lawyer is asking to have her sent to the phsyciatric hospital for evaluation. Looks like he'll get his wish. But for right now she's still in lock up." I nod, absorbing the news.

"How much time is she looking at?" John asks.

"5 to 10 years, but if she pleads insanity and can prove that she wasn't in her right mind, she could spend that time in a treatment center."

"Either way, she needs help." I say. Frank is sitting on the edge of my bed, playing with a fray on my blanket.

"Has Dom been by here?" he asks.

"No. I don't know where he is. Last I saw him was right before Drita showed up. Carmine was going to give him a ride home."

"I'll have to talk to Carm then." he stands and kisses my forehead.

"I'll call you tonight. I have to go to work. Sounds like a bunch of gang bangers shot each other all to hell out by the peirs."

"I'll bet you guys are ecstatic about that." John says.

"Crimes agaisnt persons is happier than a pig in shit. Homicide just gets to clean the mess up."

"Have fun with that."

"Thanks."

John turns the TV back up and we settle back into Pawn Stars. I bite at my lip. John looks up at me.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just want to get out of here."

"The doc said maybe tomorrow night."

"Yeah, I know." I say, my eyes never leaving the TV.

"Just take it easy, Cupcake. Don't rush yourself."

"You rush yourself all the time. You were just in a car accident two weeks ago and you're totally fine now."

"I didn't get a concussion."

"You were pretty close."

"I had about three heart attacks just in the time that you were living with me." he says, flipping the channel to a Celtics game.

"You weren't too easy to live with either."

Someone else knocks on the door, but waits until John calls out to come in. My heart jumps when I see Dom. He rushes over to the bed and gathers me into a hug.

"Jesus, I came as soon as I could. I was in New York when Ma called. Are you OK? What did that bitch do to you?" He says, looking me over in concern.

"Dom, relax. I'm fine. It was just a concussion. The doctors are just keeping me as a precaution." He looks to John for confirmation.

"It's true. If she gets through the night alright, she can probably go home tomorrow."

"Where?"

"My apartment." I answer.

"Or my house for a few days, so I can keep an eye out for you." John says.

"I don't need a baby sitter."

"Izzy." he groans.

"If you want to go back to your apartment, I could stay with you for a couple days. I could sleep on the couch." Dom offers.

"That might work." I say. John looks unsure.

"So, why were you in New York?" I ask.

"Business. I'll be in Boston for a while though, so don't worry."

"I'm glad you're here. You're the only one who hasent. I was starting to worry." he smiles his most charming smile.

"Eh, don't worry about me, sissy. I get by." I roll my eyes at him, which is only slightly painful.

He stays for an hour, watching basketball and talking. After he leaves, John gets up and crawls into bed with me, throwing a jean clad leg over mine and resting his head on my shoulder. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair.

"I'm glad you're gonna be alright, Cupcake. Who would I pick on if you weren't around?" he says.

"You mean who would you drive crazy?" I say, laughing.

"Crazy in a good way, right?"

"Right."

I lay my head back and close my eyes. His hand is on my arm, absently running his fingers over my skin.

"But you're coming home with me." he whispers in my ear.

"Not a chance."