90 minutes later

Arya watched the lights of the rig swing away below her. From up here at night, lit up against the dark sea and sky, it reminded her of a Christmas tree and Christmas always made her think of home. A home she hadn't seen in far too long. Resting her head against the body of the 'copter, she let the thud of the rotors sooth her. No matter what the Guild said, she was going home for Christmas.

In moments the lights were gone and in the darkness her mind replayed the image of her hand on the gun, putting a bullet in the back of Weasel boy's head, watching as his brains splattered up the wall behind him. Gods, why had she given that boy a name? The others she'd put bullets in weren't bothering her at all; just Weasel with his stupid mismatched sandals. In the hail of automatic gunfire, smoke and noise caused by the stun grenades, she had no idea how many of her oil rig colleagues had made it. Hot Pie's screams still echoed in her head and where had Greyjoy gone?

She couldn't shake the feeling that the whole thing had been a setup, that Theon Greyjoy bore ultimate responsible for all those deaths. She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to banish the still vivid memories of smoke and fire and death.

Something hard bumped against her knee. She looked down to see two bigger, armour clad knees either side of her orange ones. They bumped hers again. She looked slowly up, taking in everything; black combat trousers, fully loaded belt, body armour, helmet complete with night vision goggles and camera, the blue eyed Cheshire cat grinning out at her from underneath. The bits of his face that weren't covered by his helmet and chin strap were smeared in oily camouflage paint, but at least he wasn't just eyes and teeth anymore. He was very real, very alive and very big.

Relief washed over her. She thanked the Gods he'd made it too.

"The first time sucks," he yelled above the noise of the rotors. Everyone else in the cabin turned to look.

She realised he knew nothing about her. Did he really think this was her first time? At anything? Jon's briefing had obviously only gone so far. She sighed and shrugged, but Mr Blue Eyes was still grinning at her.

"Hey, you'll get over it."

Then he winked at her. Bloody hell, this was fucking surreal. If they were anywhere other than in a helicopter flying away from a bloodbath, she would have thought he was trying to chat her up. He wasn't, was he? She scowled at him and he winked again. Yeah, he was.

She slowly blew out long breath and mentally recited her rules on men . . .

No arrogant arses.

No soldiers.

And definitely no men of the Night's Watch.

He bit the finger tip of one glove with those white teeth, pulling it off before holding out his hand. She was about to shake it and it took her a few seconds to realise he wanted his gun back.

She looked around the cabin. Mercifully, everyone else seemed to be ignoring them. She unzipped her overalls and tugged his gun out of her bra. She knew without looking, where those blue eyes would be. So damn predictable. She intended to drop the gun into his open palm, avoiding touching him, but he had other ideas. His fingers reached for her wrist and there it was again; that jolt of electricity. She jerked her hand away as if he'd burned her.

Taking back the SIG, he checked the empty clip and mouthed, "How many you get?"

If he thought this was her first time, she saw no point in bursting his bubble. She shrugged, remembering Weasel boy jerking backwards as her bullet found the back of his head.

She'd made ever one of her bullets count, but chaos didn't begin to describe it; automatic weapons fire coming from every direction, smoke, men screaming. After she had emptied the SIG's clip she had been hell bent on finding Greyjoy. She'd searched everywhere but he wasn't on the rig. She was sure he'd left when the pirates arrived, or even before. Fucking traitor. All this blood was on his hands.

Mr Blue Eyes gave her a grin and a thumbs up. She rested her head against the solid body of the helicopter again and looked away, out the window into the black night.

Arya had no idea how long they had been in the air as she must have, somehow, dozed off. When she opened her eyes the lights of a city were spread out below them. The change in the drone from the rotors confirmed they were coming in for landing.

Mr Blue Eyes was looking out of the window too. She bumped his knee, still wedged between her orange ones and the fuselage. He turned towards her. No grin now, just calm, tired eyes.

"Where are we going?" she mouthed.

He shifted the big Colt rifle on his lap and leant forwards. He indicated for her to do the same. He smelled of metal, gunfire, fresh sweat and, rather incongruously, some citrusy aftershave. That made her smile. He put on aftershave before he went off to fight the bad guys.

"The helipad at the Hilton. Slaver's Bay." His hot breath against her ear sent a shiver down her spine.

"Not the Embassy?"

He shook his head, his helmet gently bumping against the side of her face. "Politics. We're not taking the credit for this one."

Oh, God, what had Jon had to do to pull this off? And how could she every thank him? And shouldn't she thank Mr Blue Eyes too, as she'd likely never see him again.

She reached up and pressed one hand against his cheek, turning his face towards hers. She breathed "Thank you," into his ear and for some fucked-up reason gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She felt him turn and angle his mouth to hers, no doubt hoping for more, but she shoved his helmet firmly away. She knew he was laughing, although she couldn't hear it. All she could see were his twinkling eyes.

"Perv," she mouthed at him once they were both leaning back again. That only made him laugh more. She couldn't help herself laughing too.

The 'copter banked and the rotors slowed further. She was being brought back to reality, literally with a thump.

The cabin door was hauled open before the rotors stopped spinning by more Black Brothers in helmets and body armour.

The noise was deafening, the wind hot and fierce in her face. Mr Blue Eyes was out and down first, offering his hand up to her. After so long in the one cramped position, she almost fell out into his arms. He held her up as she cursed her weakness, but her legs felt like they belonged to someone else.

Then the others cascaded out behind her, jumping or being helped down by the waiting soldiers, all ushered along into the bright lights of the hotel. She tried to move in that direction with the rest of them, but a strong hand on her arm held her back. She was pulled her out of the circle of light and into the relative darkness at the 'copters tail. All she could see once again were blue eyes and white teeth.

Talking was impossible, but he was trying, yelling something indistinguishable in her ear.

"What?"

He tried again. She couldn't hear a word and shrugged, holding up her hands, trying to communicate her difficulty. To her shock, he suddenly had his hand on the back of her neck and his lips crushed against hers. She didn't even have time to respond before a firm shove on her arse pushed her back out into the light.

What the fuck?! She staggered forward, towards the last of the group who had exited the 'copter. Her shoulder was caught by one of the Black Brothers, intent on guiding her towards the lights of the hotel. Not yet. She twisted out his of grasp and looked back, in time to see Mr Blue Eyes disappear into the fuselage, all black arse and boots, before the door slammed shut.

The rotors were spinning faster again, the hand on her shoulder more insistent.

Although the lights were out in the 'copter's cabin, she thought she saw a salute behind the window as the landing skids began to lift off the helipad.

Then a hand was on her other shoulder too and she was dragged back, away from the rising 'copter.

By the time she was behind the glass of the hotel's doors, the 'copter's lights were rapidly disappearing up towards the stars.

"Here Miss." One of the Brothers handed her a folded square of white cotton. She looked at it blankly. What the fuck did she need a handkerchief for? She didn't cry.

"Err…you should wipe your face Miss."

She looked at her reflection in the glass. One side and the lower half of her face was smeared with black camo grease.

Arya couldn't keep the smile off her lips as she wiped them clean.

If I remember correctly, the next chapter is where it gets hot. Now THAT's what I'm looking forward to. In no more than a week's time.