Save Me (And I Will Save You)
By Myriddin
Chapter Eleven: Little Goodbyes
"Momma?"
Jon and Sansa turned their heads toward the groggy voice that broke through their conversation. Their interruption came from a mussed tangle of auburn curls, wrinkled fire-engine pajamas, and sleepy eyes that blinked up at them over the stuffed wolf toy he held nestled against his chest.
Sansa unconsciously straightened in her chair as she studied her son. "Bryn, sweetie, what are you doing out of bed?"
"Momma, my throat hurts." The child's voice was hoarse in clear evidence of his illness and when he released a harsh, racking cough, Sansa was immediately out of her seat, kneeling before him and placing a hand against his forehead.
Jon looked on with concern as she let out a relieved sigh after finding a cool brow, a welcome sign his cold was beginning to wan instead of getting worse, and took the child by his hand to lead him to the table. Jon helped Bryn up into the chair beside him and Sansa shuffled into the kitchen, mentally counting the hours since she had given the boy his last dose of medicine. "Just a second, baby. I'll get your medicine."
Bryn made a face. "I don't want that stuff. It's yucky."
"You have to, sweetie. It'll help you get better. I promise."
Bryn turned pleading eyes on toward the man beside him and Jon was sympathetic, but held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, little man. Gotta do what your mom says."
Brynden pouted, folding his arms tighter around his plush toy as he muttered a petulant, "Traitor," under his breath. Jon sighed and reached out, running a hand through the boy's matted curls. Never one to hold a grudge, Bryn peered up at him with wide, adoring eyes and when Sansa returned with the cough syrup, it was two pleading looks she was met with instead of one.
Smiling inwardly, she sighed in defeat, knowing there was little she could do to resist, especially in light of a full frontal attack of the puppy dog eyes from both of her boys. "If I get you some juice afterward, will that be better?"
Bryn nodded and the compromise was made. A spoonful of medicine and a long chorus of gagging noises later, Sansa kept her promise as she set a cup of watered-down apple juice before her son. Bryn plopped himself down in Jon's lap and Jon groaned dramatically. Both adults had to laugh at the wholly unimpressed look Bryn gave him.
The juice soothed Bryn's sore throat and, despite the roughness of his voice, he babbled happily to Jon about the goings-on he had missed in the few days since they had seen each other. Listening to a detailed account of mother and son's weekend trip to the nature museum, Jon was struck by the realization that his earlier dramatics hadn't been entirely fictional. Brynden and Daeron both were growing up so fast. Daeron was taller, befitting the fact that he was five months older, but Bryn was certainly heavier in Jon's arms. Unlike the slender Daeron, the younger boy possessed a sturdy build that hinted at the strong, broad frame his Tully heritage would guarantee when he grew older. It reminded Jon of Robb as a child, and he felt a familiar pang in his chest.
Fatigue soon began to set back in for the little boy, his gray eyes constantly falling closed despite Bryn's efforts. He snuggled closer to Jon, instinctively trying to burrow closer to the warm skin he could feel through the thin cotton of Jon's shirt. A rich chuckle rumbled through Jon's chest, like a deep tickle against Bryn's ear from where he was pressing it to hear the heartbeat there. "Daddy," he murmured drowsily as strong, familiar arms lifted him up. He sleepily protested going back to bed, but he felt Momma stroke a hand through his hair, Daddy rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.
"Go to sleep, sweet boy," he heard Daddy say, "I'll be here in the morning."
Safe and warm, Brynden Eddard Snow closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep cradled in his father's arms.
The Vale, 2009
"Gods, Sansa, what the hell is your problem?!"
"My problem?! What in the Seven's name are you even doing here?"
"You wouldn't answer my calls. What was I supposed to do?"
"Maybe take a hint!"
The argument had escalated quickly and violently as a tornado tearing downto the ground. The racket they were making had long since gathered spectators, though they chose to keep a safe distance given Sansa's habit for wild gesticulation and the glazed look of barely restrained anger in Jon's eyes.
The unfortunate audience was Sansa's roommates Mya and Myranda, along with Mya's visiting brother, Gendry. They had all been awoken by the shouting, startled to not only find a strange man in their living room, but by the fact their normally easy-going friend was screaming like a banshee at said stranger. Mya was particularly affected, her face pale and wrought as she worried her lip with obvious concern. Gendry was beside his sister, arms folded across his chest as he scowled irritably. Even Myranda, who tended to enjoy hysterics, had had enough of the dramatics.
"Enough!" she shouted, startling the arguing pair into a dumbfounded silence. "Keep it up and I'll get Mya's hunky brother to boot you both out the back door."
"Randa!" Mya hissed as Gendry flushed brightly, but Myranda ignored her as she placed her hands at her hips and glared at the offending pair.
"I mean it. The rest of us are going back to bed. Sansa, if you and what's-his-name can't find a way to do this civilly, you'll be finding somewhere else to sleep tonight."
"I pay part of the rent," Sansa countered half-heartedly.
Myranda didn't miss a beat. "My father owns the building."
"Touché."
Sansa and Jon were soon left alone, eyeing each other warily in a heavy, awkward silence. Finally, Sansa broke the standoff with an irritated sigh. "Why are you here, Jon?"
Jon swallowed hard. The tension in her posture and the defensive way she held herself away from him, pulled painfully at his heartstrings. Especially knowing he was the cause. "I wanted to talk to you, to see you before...before..."
"Before you marry another woman?" Sansa snapped, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. "What is there left to say, Jon?"
"That's not...I don't..." he trailed off helplessly, the knot of emotion in his chest tightening with every moment until he was mortified to feel his eyes grow wet. "You know I don't want to."
His reluctant tears were the final straw, and the last of Sansa's defenses fell away. With a weary sigh, she held out a hand. "Come here, Jon."
Jon shuffled forward hesitantly and she tugged him down to sit with her on the sofa, guiding him to stretch out and rest his head in her lap. Sansa stroked his hair, meeting his gaze with tender eyes as he looked up at her tiredly. "Do you not love me anymore?" he murmured, his voice no longer holding any of its previous accusation, only vulnerability.
"Of course I love you. It's because I love you that I know you as well as I do. You've already made up your mind."
"It's not what I want," he protested weakly.
"Not completely," she agreed, running her thumb along his forehead to soothe away the wrinkles furrowing his brow. "But I know you, Jon Snow. I know how much you love that baby and I know you would do absolutely anything to be a good father to him."
"It's not fair." He turned his face to nestle against her stomach, annoyed to feel the return of a familiar sting to his eyes.
Sansa hummed with agreement. "No, it's not." She could hardly believe it herself, the lengths Rhaegar and the Tyrells would go to manipulate Jon. The only saving grace in the situation was Jon's assertion that Margaery likely didn't have anything to do with her father's threat to deny Jon any kind of custody to his son if he didn't marry her. Margaery had apparently looked as surprised and horrified as Jon when Mace made his announcement, but she did nothing to fight it.
And with Rhaegar throwing his full support behind Mace, no amount of lawyers or advocates the Starks could hire had any hope of matching the ability the Targaryens and Tyrells to manipulate the legal system. If Jon had any hope of being in his son's life, he and Margaery were to marry within the month.
"I want to stay with you."
"Then stay," she responded simply, but the torn indecision was evident in his eye and she smiled sadly. "You see? You've already decided."
He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. "I don't wanna lose you," he whispered hoarsely.
"You'll never lose me," she raised their joined hands, brushing a kiss against his knuckles. "You just can't have me that way you want."
"I know, but…"
She shook her head. "No, don't use me as your excuse or your reason. I'm not going to beg or plead with you to stay with me, no matter what we both want. I've had three months to come to terms with the idea of letting go of you, Jon, and before that when we weren't talking, the possibility was always there for over a year."
She smiled sadly. "I'm a big girl. I can accept what the world's thrown at us. And I know you, love. You can't just walk away. Your heart won't let you."
With that, the decision was made.
He closed his eyes, nestling further into her lap. "I love you," he whispered fiercely.
"I love you too, Jon." She continued to caress his head, letting his soft dark hair sift through her fingers as she felt him slowly relax, his breathing growing slow and deep. A sudden rustling sound caught her attention and her head snapped up, careful not to disturb Jon. Her eyes met those of the shadowy figure she recognized as Gendry. His expression was indiscernible, but with nothing more than a lingering look to the man lying before her so vulnerably, he retreated back to Mya's room, leaving her to ponder.
Jon, having felt her tension, shifted and groggily questioned, "Sansa, sweetheart, what's that matter?"
"It's nothing," she continued to stroke his hair, recalling how over the years it never failed to calm him, "Come on, Jon. You can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll sleep on the couch."
Too tired to protest, Jon agreed.
xx
He was startled awake by the creaking of the old floorboards in the hall, watching quietly as the door to Sansa's door was pushed open and her familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. Moonlight poured in through the window, casting a pallid glow upon the tousled auburn curls falling around her shoulders.
A lump rose in his throat as he watched approach and slid onto the bed, staring at him imploringly.
"Sansa, what is it?"
She looked down, hesitating, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. She glanced back up, expression a mix of determination, need and vulnerability. "Jon."
He studied her closely, searching. He slowly leaned close, kissing her softly. He drew back a moment later, meeting those river blue eyes reflecting nothing back at him but love. She whispered his name again, soft and sweet. "Jon."
Their lips met again and he leaned back, taking her with him. She nestled into his body, a perfect fit, her arms wrapping around him and legs entangling with his. It was an embrace they wouldn't part from until the dawn broke over the horizon.
xx
"Good morning."
Never a morning person, Sansa stared blearily at the cheerful woman who had greeted her, muttering her gratitude as Mya placed a cup of coffee in her hands. "Morning, Mya."
The other woman nodded, leaning back against the counter as she curiously perused her friend. "So what's the story with John Doe from last night?"
Sansa glanced back in the direction of her bedroom, where Jon was still sound asleep. "Just a boy."
"An ex?"
Sansa took a sip from her coffee and smiled behind the rim. "Not quite."
Mya cocked an eyebrow, amused at her evasion but still clearly confused. "I'm not following."
Sansa shrugged, "He's everything," she answered simply, as if it answered all the questions the other woman could possibly have.
And strangely enough, it seemed to, given the wistful look that came over Mya's face and the thoughtful smile she gave Sansa.
"Mornin'." Gendry, being the big man he was, seemed to lumber into the kitchen, wearing only his boxers and rumbled hair as he made his way to the refrigerator. He took out a carton of orange juice, but a pointed glare from his sister had him lowering the container sheepishly after he took a sip.
As Mya moved to retrieve a glass for him, mumbling under her breath about devolution of manners, Sansa cast a contemplative look in Gendry's direction, keeping her voice low enough for only the two of them to hear."
"How much did you hear last night?"
His face was impassive and he shrugged. "Enough."
Sansa only nodded, not sure what else to say.
"Look, Sansa, we don't know each other very well, but Mya really cares about you. This is going to be hard on you, isn't it?"
She glanced at him and sighed, nodding once more. "Yeah," she murmured, "Yeah, it will be. This is going to hurt like hell, but I'll make it work."
He nodded thoughtfully. It was honestly none of his business, but if the small bit he had overheard the night before on his way to the bathroom was any indication, things were about to get very difficult for one of his sister's best friends. "Is he worth it?"
"He's always worth it."
xx
Florescent lights shined above her head, reflecting obnoxiously off the pristinely white walls of the exam room, surrounding her in pallid, stifling monotony. She found herself feeling strangely vulnerable as she sat upon the table, goose bumps rising on her skin as the thin paper gown she wore left her susceptible to the chill of the room.
She idly swung her legs, the back of her heels tapping against the metallic surface of the step below, providing the only other sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the corner. After an hour of waiting alone, she was sure she would be driven mad when the door finally clicked open and the doctor stepped inside, lab coat trailing around her feet as she closed the door behind her.
The doctor gave her a reassuring smile as her eyes left her clipboard and settled on Sansa. Sansa returned the gesture to the best of her ability, though the expression came out wan and weak, inadvertently reflecting her uneasiness.
"Hello, again, Ms. Stark. Sorry to have kept you waiting so long."
"It's fine. I can't exactly make a break for it garbed up in tissue paper."
The wisecrack fell flat a little flat, but the dry tone drew a small smile from the doctor as the older women drew up a chair to sit beside her, flipping through her notes. "I have your test results back. I can go over them now with you if you'd like."
"Please." Her throat tightened and Sansa wished she had brought someone with her.
"There is no doubt about it, Sansa. You are pregnant." She paused, her expression grave as she glanced back up at the young woman. "You're nearly twelve weeks along. It's a good thing you came in when you did."
Twelve weeks. Tthe timing was unmistakable but the understanding didn't come right away, until a flicker of memory teased at the back of her mind.
She slowly awoke to a pair of strong arms around her, the warm muscle of a male chest pressed up against her back. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the still-dark atmosphere to the bedroom. She instinctively knew who it was lying beside her, the scent of him, a warm, masculine spice, brushing against her nostrils as he sleepily nuzzled her neck.
As if stirred by thought, he shifted behind her, pulling her close until there was no space left between them. He threw a leg over hers, his hips and groin pressed to her behind. There was a deepness to the intimacy, a kind of closeness only transcended by the memory of what it felt to have him sheathed inside her, making their bodies one. She could feel him begin to harden against her backside and a deep, answering ache began to thrum from her very core.
Half-asleep, their familiarity with one another's bodies meant it took little to touch and stroke and ready, Jon slipping inside her before there was time for hesitation or coherent thought. They made love in a slow, drowsy haze, their climaxes cresting with a gentle warmth that lulled them right back into a deep, sound sleep. When they awoke again later that morning, the memory had faded to a feeling akin to a half-forgotten dream.
Forgotten it had been, indeed, as the slide and release of Jon's cock inside her had been bare and unrestrained. For the first time ever, they had failed to use a condom.
However it had happened, there was no changing or denying it now. Sansa Stark was pregnant, and Jon Snow had taken his wedding vows to another woman five days before.