Chapter Twenty-Eight: Confessions

Once I'm alone, I fling myself onto the bed face-first, cushioning my fall with the shadowcat pelt, and groan into it loudly for few seconds. Then I push myself off the mattress and grab the spare hunting bag to store the skin for safekeeping. It seems a shame to hide something so beautiful, but I can't take any chances knowing that my room has already been broken into before. By Sam, yes, but if Sam's capable of doing it, so are the rest of the Night's Watch brothers. I slip it under my bed and move to the table, debating whether I should bring my book to work on while I'm in the library.

Probably not, I decide. Odds are, I won't have time to write anything. Shireen, with her inquiring mind, will likely have at least a handful of questions about Gale. And even if she has just one or two, Gilly and Sam are going to bombard me with more.

It's not their fault for being curious, hypothetically, but I hate Gale for it. As petty as it sounds, this world was supposed to be just for me. I know in my weaker moments I've longed for a district partner – but not him. Anyone but him.

I once heard a story about a man who traveled back in time, taking care to leave behind everything that reminded him of his own time period. Or so he thought, because after he fell in love with a woman and was settling into their new life together, he found a coin in his jacket pocket stamped with a year from the future. Its mere presence pulled him from his newfound happiness, dragging him back to his old miserable life.

Gale is that coin, a haunting relic from my past. A painful reminder of what I ran from, that threatens the continuation of my existence in this world.

Maybe "threatens" is too harsh a word, but I know Gale as well as he knows me. I know quite well what lengths he'll go to if he has a goal in mind. Whether that be defeating the Capitol or convincing me to leave this place with him. If this is to be war, I wonder what I'll have to expect from him during his stay in Westeros. Besides excruciating stubbornness, of course. Is it too much to ask that Jon send him away? Though even if he did, Gale would just set up camp right outside the gate.

I bet he's still out there in the courtyard, surrounded by strangers and standing his ground but unsure what to do now. But that's not my problem. I didn't tell him to come through that portal and get me. I hope he's getting harassed by Thorne, or creeped out by Melisandre, or…

A curse escapes my lips as I turn towards the door in a sudden epiphany. No, Gale does not stand around awkwardly. He gets straight to work, makes himself useful and talks to the right people. And I just left him out there with Jon Snow.

Cursing again repeatedly, I scramble across the room, my imagination already running wild ahead of me. I throw open the door, lunge blindly out, and almost instantly collide with Jon.

"Oh—"

In his surprise, Jon instinctively grasps my arms to steady me. "Sorry," we both say at the same time. Even while riding the end of a semi-frantic state, I manage a light, albeit nervous laugh as I let my hands slide off his own arms. It takes my mind a second to relax and understand that if he's here, he's not talking with Gale. Instead he's standing here outside my door, looking mildly amused by our latest mutual apology.

Then I realize the other side of this. Yes, he is standing outside my door. Meaning I didn't have to come to him because he has come to me. "Did you need something?" I ask carefully.

The humor fades and is replaced with his usual seriousness. "A word, if you would," he answers.

I should've expected as much. Turning, I step back into the room and let him in. He follows and closes the door behind us. It occurs to me that maybe his quarters are a more appropriate place for a conversation than my bedroom, but then again, it's not like it's the first time. Even so, I'm flustered. I can't sit down on the bed, since that feels like an invitation. I'm riled up and I blame Gale for this.

"Sorry about Gale," I say, turning around to straighten things up. It's not as bad in here as the pearl-searching incident, but I did rumple the bedding earlier by collapsing on it. Hopefully, I add, "Did you kick him out yet?"

A beat from Jon. "Edd is showing him to his room. He'll be spending the night here." I roll my eyes with a scoff. Damned Night's Watch hospitality. "Said at first that he expected the two of you would be out of here by the end of the day, but I told him I wouldn't count on it."

I huff out an exasperated breath, smacking the pillow into shape while pretending it's Gale. "If he thinks I'm going to change my mind by tomorrow, he's crazy."

"I don't know. He seems to know an awful lot about you," says Jon, with a strangeness to his tone that sets me on edge. "More than I do, actually."

Fighting through my moment of hesitation, I get in a couple more good hits before stepping away. "That's because we've known each other for six years," I try to say casually, though it just ends up coming out angry. "But a lot can change during that time."

Jon is quiet for a few seconds. I can barely hear him pacing a couple of steps in front of the door behind me.

"Was Ser Alliser right, then?" he asks softly. "Is he a former lover?"

My heart thuds like a heavy rock plummeting down a well in my chest. I don't want to answer this question. I don't like the answer. Not the pain it reminds me of, nor its power to potentially unravel the illusion of my impeccable tragic love story with Peeta that I've fed to Jon. Not to mention, when he invited me to stay here at Castle Black, I don't think dealing with relationship drama between me and a living lover was something Jon signed up for, former or not. "It's complicated," I say, not looking at him.

"Complicated how?" Jon asks. A silence falls, and it turns out the time I take to search for a response is enough time for him to think of another follow-up question. "Was it before Peeta, or after?"

I close my eyes in a wince. "Before. Kind of. And… during."

The next silence that falls is decidedly more uncomfortable as I let him interpret what that means. "Did they know about each other?" he asks at last.

"Yes," I assure him, although still looking anywhere but at him. I scratch absently at the burn scars on my wrist. "It wasn't an affair or anything, it was…" My voice trails off. Wasn't it? Without divulging the fake romance tactic of the Games, there's no getting around the fact that that's exactly what it sounds like. I do my best to work past this while still giving Jon the truth. "Gale and I had been friends since I was twelve, and Peeta knew about that. But then we ended up in this… very public arranged marriage situation, Peeta and I, and of course it was only after that that Gale started making his feelings known, so his timing has always been awful. But then Peeta was taken and had his mind hijacked, and…"

Guilt tightens my throat; I swallow and rub at it, reminded of the collar that once chafed my neck.

"I needed someone I could rely on not to try to kill me, so Gale and I were kind of together then." I scowl, biting on my lip as if I can rid myself of every kiss Gale and I shared after the Quell. "I never really got Peeta back until the end, so I guess that counts as after, too."

Finally, I can't take it any longer, and I glance back at Jon to read his reaction. I don't think he's been looking at me much, either; usually, if his eyes are on me, I can feel it. Right now they've averted to the right side of the room, towards the floor, with a faraway look to them like he's still processing a thought.

"So when you spoke of the woods and the Meadow, you were thinking of Gale, not Peeta," he says, his face expressionless. "Your… former hunting partner."

I shrug, for lack of a better response. "Like I said," I mutter. "Complicated."

"I betrayed Ygritte for the Night's Watch and she shot me for it. I understand 'complicated,'" Jon replies. There's another pause, then he licks his lips and looks over at me with a furrowed brow. "What I don't understand is why you felt the need to lie to me yesterday."

My mouth falls open for a split second; when I manage to close it, I find that it has gone totally dry. I'm so stunned that if I didn't stop myself from staggering back, I would've bumped right into the bed. It's all I can do not to sink onto the mattress in shock.

What does he mean? My mind is screaming at me. Which lie? I stare at him, dumbfounded, waiting for an answer.

After a moment, he lowers his eyes again and gives one with a sigh. "It wasn't your father you were talking to at the cave the other night, was it?"

Oh. That lie. "No," I admit, honestly relieved to clear this up and maybe seize an opportunity to go further into that truth. Until the true implications of Jon's suspicions hit me, and the sinking feeling returns along with a scandalized gut punch. "But I wasn't talking to Gale, either!"

Jon flicks his gaze back up to me, skeptical. "You weren't – with him, that night?" he asks haltingly, awkwardly, the only way to ask such a question.

"No, I was not with him!" I say, simultaneously repulsed and mortified. "I didn't even know he was in Westeros until today!"

"What was he doing with the shadowskin, then?" Jon asks briskly. As my mouth drops open again, he walks around to the side of the bed and picks up the game bag that's peeking out from under it. He sets it on top of the bed and looks over at me. "You said you left it in the cave. I saw him give it to you."

I curse inwardly, gaping down at the damning black-and-white markings that peek out of the bag. This does place Gale at the cave within the last two days, which looks bad. But it also makes me more defensive. "Obviously he found it after I was gone!" I say, meeting Jon's eyes firmly. "If we were there together, he wouldn't have had to bring it to me." Then another thought strikes me, and I immediately gesture to him. "You should know, you were there as Ghost!"

"Not the whole time," Jon says quietly.

I recoil, deflated and a little floored. What must be going on in his head? Does he really think that I journeyed all the way out to that cave, just to have a brief fling with Gale? Of course, naturally that's what his mind jumps to, given his own personal association with that place. I fold my arms tightly under my chest, hugging myself as I look away from him. The accusation offends me, leaves a distressing pang in my chest. And it's not just the fact that it's Gale we're talking about, or the fact that it simply did not happen. It's the indignation that comes from the irony that during the time Jon thinks it did happen, I was probably thinking of him instead.

There's nothing going on between Gale and me. There never will be again. Bringing my eyes back up to meet Jon's, I realize I don't want him assuming otherwise.

Jon seems to understand he's ruffled some feathers, so he backtracks a bit. "Look, if it's none of my business, you can tell me so," he says, dropping his gaze to the pelt. "I just find it hard to believe that he just happened upon that particular cave right after you left it and somehow knew the shadowskin was yours." He loses his cool demeanor now, raising his voice and talking faster. "And you claimed to be talking to your father, your first hunting partner, and thought of the woods and the Meadow as places sacred to you, so obviously Gale was on your mind." Frowning, he looks up at me and makes a sweeping gesture towards the door. "Then he shows up here a day later and you act like you had no idea he was coming. Am I supposed to believe that's all just a coincidence?"

I swallow hard, bowled over by his rant. "Some of it is. Some of it isn't."

"What does that mean?" Jon asks, hardly missing a beat.

"If you just give me a moment, I can tell you!" I burst out. It feels weird snapping at Jon, but then again, this is a weird situation.

He stares at me for a second, then concedes with a nod for me to go on.

I breathe out slowly, running my fingers along the shadowskin fur for comfort before turning away and pacing a few steps. This should have calmed me down, but I can feel my frustration burbling back up again. Especially as my fingers fumble to detach my tiny microphone.

"No, it's not a coincidence Gale found the cave," I say, next taking the earpiece out of my ear. "I've been keeping in contact with my friend Beetee through this—" I take a moment to open my palm to him, revealing both devices, "which is basically Panem's equivalent of sending a raven except more immediate and direct – and I've been using it to talk to him and let him know where I am." Fresh irritation bubbles to the surface, so I channel it into pacing harder. "And I trusted him to keep that information between us, but apparently since he and Gale became such good friends during the war, he thought it would be okay to let Gale come to Westeros and track me down.

"So no, Gale didn't just happen upon the cave. That was Beetee I was talking to that night. I told him about the shadowcat attack, he knew the pelt was still there, so he had Gale drop by and pick it up. Keep in mind I was not informed of any of this!" I hurl the devices at the bed, which is probably for the best since I'm in danger of crushing them in my clenched fists. "The rest, yes, is pure coincidence. In case I didn't make it clear out there, I had no intention of seeing him again after the war. I was not with Gale that night, I've never been with anyone that way—"

I stop myself there, pressing my lips together as the blooming blush in my cheeks threatens to blaze across my entire face. I've tried to straddle the line between vague and informative but now I've definitely said too much.

When at last I find I can bring myself to do it, I spare a glance at Jon. His features have softened, and I think he believes me; he just looks surprised.

"You and Peeta never…?" he asks.

"No," I mumble, self-consciously going to bite my nails before thinking better of it and dropping my hand to my side. "We shared a bed sometimes, but that was because we both had night terrors." I dare to glance at him again. His eyebrows are still raised, which makes me feel more embarrassed. I can't believe this is the part of my rant he chose to focus on. "Oh, don't look so shocked. I can barely talk to you about it without my face turning red."

Jon laughs for the first time since we bumped into each other. "It's just, the way you and Gale argued out there… it was very passionate."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Arguing is arguing. The two of us were just arguing a minute ago. What does that prove?

"Try not to confuse desire with disgust," I tell him, and cross my arms as I look away in reflective annoyance. "Gale is the last person I would do that with."

"But he thinks he can get you to come with him," Jon notes. "Back to Panem."

I reach out and touch the shadowskin again, tracing along the black-and-white stripes with my fingers. So very much like a mockingjay. "Yeah, well, he doesn't know shit," I say, and knock the game bag off the bed.

Jon gives a small scoff of amusement. When I look up at him, I see a trace of an appreciative smile on his lips. But it fades after a moment. I follow his eyes and see that he's staring at the devices, which are still on the bed but knocked slightly askew.

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" Jon asks. "About who you were talking to, if it was Beetee and not Gale."

It's a good question. A fair question. One I've been asking myself all night. "I don't know," I confess with a light shrug. "I wanted to, but… it's a lot easier to tell someone you were talking to a person who wasn't really there if the person in question is a dead loved one. Not… alive somewhere in a different country but you're still hearing his voice in your ear." I pick up the earpiece, fingering it in my palm, then look over at Jon and make a sheepish attempt at a half-grin. "I think I'm already pushing the limits of your hospitality without making myself sound completely mad."

"You're not mad," Jon assures me. I raise my eyebrows at him skeptically, and he mirrors the gesture with a half-grin of his own. "Not completely," he amends, making me laugh. "I admit, I'm not sure how that works, but I could say the same about a lot of things from your country." He pauses as I concede this with a slight head tilt. It was a lot easier to explain than I thought it would be. Then he bites his lip, as if contemplating whether or not to say what comes next. "For what it's worth, you… you haven't overstayed your welcome."

This catches me by surprise. What I said two days ago… I didn't know he was still thinking about that. "No?" I ask, wrinkling my brow. "From what I've heard, you're even making King Stannis leave in a few days."

"King Stannis and his men have been dwindling our food supply," Jon says matter-of-factly. "You've been adding to it. You earn your keep."

I fight hard to hide how much this pleases me. "Yeah, well… you probably won't need me as much once they're gone," I say with a shrug, which is probably true and not just a half-hearted attempt at humility. Who knows how long I would've been allowed to stay if Stannis hadn't shown up the day before I did with an army to feed? And then a jolt of memory hits me. Stannis… "Shireen! I was supposed to meet her in the library," I say, pocketing the earpiece and microphone before picking up my coat on my way to the door.

"Gale thinks she reminds you of Prim," Jon says, bringing me to an abrupt stop. I turn to him as he comes up next to me. His eyes are soft with sympathy. "I imagine it'll be hard to see her go."

I think Gale should keep Prim's name out of his mouth. But I don't tell Jon that. "I probably shouldn't have gotten attached, but… I guess I couldn't help myself," I murmur. "It's too late now, so… best to spend some time together while we can, right?"

Jon just looks at me, in that contemplative, searching way of his. The one that makes me feel like I've said much more than I meant to, or if I meant more than I said. In the seconds that pass, I start to wonder if I did mean more. But then he just nods in understanding and opens the door for us.

"Mustn't keep her waiting, then," he says, gesturing for me to go first.

We step out of the room together, but I make sure to stride ahead of him as we venture into the courtyard. To get to the library faster, yes, but also to disguise the fact that although a blustering wind lashes ice at my face, my cheeks are, persistently, burning.

A/N: Thanks to all new faves, follows, and reviews! Yes, more of Shireen and co. and Gale being Gale in the next chapter, but I wanted to cut it off here so I could get it out today. (Happy early birthday Zain!)