A/N: I'm a few hours late because I...forgot it was Thursday. Oops. But I'm still here with a chapter! And there's a lot of pairing stuff in this too for my Braime and Jongritte fans. Enjoy!

Chapter 32: Complications

Tywin could have imagined worse outcomes for this investigation—but not very many. Joffrey's involvement was bad enough. Cersei ignorance and silence were worse. The only silver lining was that his family was not the ultimate culprit of this damn mess.

In some ways, Catelyn Stark was right to blame him. He had let Joffrey go too far off his leash. He had let Cersei mismanage him for so long and he ignored the problem. And here he paid for it.

"I know that you are not a fool," Tywin said. "You must have considered that Joffrey might be behind what happened to Ned Stark."

Cersei didn't reply, which was as good as a confession.

"Why didn't you come to me?" he asked.

"He's my eldest," Cersei said. "I decided to handle it."

"Not very well," Tywin said.

"I knew that sort of crime could have damaged the family name," Cersei said. "I had to protect our future."

"It will be worse for us now," Tywin said. "And you were protecting Joffrey's future. Not the family."

"He is our future."

"He's a blight upon it and always has been," Tywin said. "Because you let him run wild."

Cersei's green eyes narrowed, the fight returning to them. "You did as much as me. You've considered him a lost cause for years. Do not blame me for all of it."

Tywin's jaw clenched and he did not reply for a long moment. He let out a long breath. "It's not too late to manage the situation. But to do that, we will need to find Joffrey."

"And what happens when we do that?" Cersei asked.

"You let me handle that," Tywin said. "But we can't let him run loose. And he can't ignore this. The Starks certainly won't let us."

"You're the one who involved them," Cersei muttered.

"I believe Arya Stark involved herself," Tywin said. "But that's not the point. Joffrey was not the mastermind behind this. He was blackmailed. That means that we have another enemy in the shadows. Finding Joffrey is the only way to bring them out."

Cersei did not speak. She simply picked at her nails.

"Cersei," Tywin said. "If we don't find Joffrey, someone else may find him first. Someone who considers him a liability. His life could be in danger."

She stopped picking at her nail. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "I don't know where he is. He has lots of little hiding places. Many of them unknown to me."

"But you have a better chance of contacting him than most," Tywin said. "A better chance of finding him."

She shrugged.

"Cersei," Tywin said.

"I understand," she murmured. "I'll…I'll find him somehow."

Tywin nodded once, pacing back to his desk.

"This person. The one blackmailing him," Cersei said. "Why?"

"I'm not completely sure yet," Tywin said. "All I know was that Joffrey made himself easy to blackmail." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're right. I should have kept a closer eye. Managed him."

"What a terrible thing for us to agree on," Cersei said, her voice distant. She bowed her head a bit. "Maybe we'll do better with Myrcella and Tommen."

He didn't reply. Didn't have time to think of how he could before she left the room. He could only settle in his chair, his mind already racing through the damage he would have to repair before this was over.

Anger made Arya feel like a wild animal. She stalked back and forth along one of the balconies of the Lannister manor, a wolf pacing its cage. She wanted to lash out but had no prey. No target. So it was left to brew inside of her.

Jaqen used to tell her that her anger was her greatest weakness. That it made her wild. Impulsive. Weak. She had to learn to control it. Direct it. And eventually, let it go. There was no place for anger in the job of a Faceless Man.

But she was not faceless yet. She was still Arya and her fury was a living thing.

If Joffrey was in front of her right now, she might kill him. If Jaime hadn't held her back, maybe she would have done the same to Cersei. She hated both of them.

But the one she really wanted… they were in the shadows. So she was left to stalk and stew in her fury.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn't look at it for a long moment. It was probably a message from her mother, who had not wanted her to stay at the Lannister manor for another moment. If she wasn't still keeping up the façade of Beth, she would have gone with her in a second.

But Arya Stark was still dead. She had to stay dead until the job was done.

Her phone buzzed again. She exhaled checked the screen.

Has a girl found what she is looking for?

Or has it found her?

A chill went through Arya and she paused looking out from the balcony. Suddenly, the shadows had eyes. For all she knew, Jaqen could be standing out there. Or the Waif. Either possibility made her nauseous with fear.

She replied:

A girl has found someone. But they disappeared.

She waited. Then the reply came:

She will find them again.

Has Beth grown closer with her employers? With the girl she guards and her grandfather and others with the Lion's name?

Arya gritted her teeth together. She had been trying. But the latest news made her more reluctant to get close to the Lannister. Myrcella was one thing. But Tywin—even if he didn't know what Joffrey had done, she still blamed him.

Another text came through: Is a girl letting Arya Stark's feelings get in the way?

Arya exhaled, letting her body relax. She replied:

No. A girl is Beth. She does not know Arya Stark.

A beat.

Another beat.

The crickets in the woods were so very loud and their cries set Arya's nerves on edge.

Good. Do not forget that.

No more texts came, but Arya remained for a long moment on the balcony. She stood as the crickets kept chirping and the shadows kept shifting. She stayed until her body was relaxed and her anger was locked away in some deep box inside of her.

Then Beth returned inside.

Jaime hated hospitals. He'd hated them from the time he was a child. The smell, the bright lights, the cold floors… they were all tainted from the moment his mother died. It wasn't in this hospital. It was another one. But they were all the same to Jaime.

He had tried to leave the hospital early several times after his accident because he couldn't stand being there. Too many bad memories. One poor nurse had to sedate him once to keep him from crawling weakly across the floor to the exit. Spending multiple days trapped in his own hospital room only made him hate the places more. Even now, walking down the hall, his stomach turned.

But he could deal with the nausea, just for a bit. He owed it to Brienne.

She was sitting up when he entered the room. Part of him hoped she would be asleep. That would be easier. But Brienne had never been one to take the easy route.

Her blue eyes widened when she saw him. "Lannister. What… what are you doing here?"

Jaime leaned against the doorframe. "I sort of thought that was obvious, Tarth. I'm in your room, aren't I?"

She twisted her fingers together in the sheets and she looked down at her hands. "Yes. Sorry. Stupid question."

"You don't need to apologize," Jaime said. "I should be apologizing to you. I blew our cover. You saved me and got shot. You could have died because of me."

"Well, I'm not dead," Brienne said. "And I don't blame you. Finding out that your nephew…" She trailed off. "It must have been quite a shock."

"I wish I could say it was," Jaime said. "But this is exactly the kind of thing he would do. Get into trouble, get blackmailed and run a guy off the road to save his own neck. He's a stupid, vicious boy. We should have stopped it sooner, but we preferred to ignore it."

"So he was blackmailed," Brienne said. "He's not the mastermind."

"I don't think Joffrey has ever been the mastermind of anything," Jaime said. "But as long as he's hiding out, we have no idea who did it. They're lurking in the shadows somewhere, and none of us know exactly what they're planning."

"Do you have leads?" Brienne asked.

"Some. Actually, I have leads about your case as well," Jaime said. "But they can wait until you're healed."

Brienne nodded once. "I… suppose I'll need your help with those leads. Since I'm injured."

Jaime couldn't help but smile. It was an invitation wrapped in an excuse, but he was strangely happy that she still wanted to work with him after he dragged her into this mess. And after everything before that.

He turned to go but stopped before he did. "Also, I'm… sorry for snapping at you. During the job I mean. The Stark boy riled me up a bit asking about the war."

"It's fine," she said. "I would have snapped at you too."

"I would have deserved it," Jaime said.

"You don't even know what you said in this hypothetical scenario."

"I know, but statistically speaking, I'm an asshole, so I would have deserved it," Jaime said. "I don't know if I ever apologized for… everything before. Things that I said to your face and behind your back. I don't know why I did, but there's no excuse. I'm trying to be better about it, since we're friends, now."

The declaration left his lips before he really thought about it. Brienne's pale cheeks colored as she stared at him.

"Is… is that what we are? Friends?"

Jaime ran his hand through his hair. "Yes. Maybe. Or… maybe not. You probably wouldn't want to be friends with me, come to think of it. Colleagues. We can be colleagues."

The words came out too fast and he didn't know why. And he was oddly nervous to hear her response. Maybe because he didn't have a lot of friends.

"No," Brienne said at last. "Friends is fine."

Jaime exhaled. "Good. That's good." He stepped back into the open doorway. "I'll see when you when you get out of the hospital. We'll go over the leads then."

Brienne nodded, settling back on her pillow. Jaime closed the door behind him, letting out a long breath. The word 'friend' felt like a weight off his chest. Because he actually preferred it when Brienne liked being around him. He couldn't explain why. He just did.

Jon had never liked keeping secrets. He was honest by nature, a trait that he had learned from watching his uncle. Honesty was one of the virtues Ned Stark impressed upon all his children and Jon had learned it well.

But now he was the keeper of so many secrets. Joffrey being his father's true killer, which Aunt Cat didn't want to spread to Robb, Sansa and Rickon yet. Arya's being alive which no one outside their family could know. And the knowledge that the police department was deeply steeped in corruption he could not begin to touch. Slynt wasn't the last of it. He knew that much for sure. But how could he investigate the other rats when he didn't know friend from foe?

It was all too much to process right now and it drove Jon out to the bars alone. He couldn't go with Theon because he didn't know about Arya. He couldn't go with Robb because he didn't know about Joffrey. He didn't want to ask anyone in the department for fear that they hid dark intentions of their own. He just needed a night to not worry about anyone reading his secrets on his face.

He scanned the bar absently, not searching for anyone in particular. Just watching the faces shift through the crowd. But somewhere in the mass, he caught sight of a flash of orange curls.

Ygritte.

She was just leaving the bar with a few friends, slipping out into the night. And for some reason, the sight of her brought Jon to his feet. He dropped money for his drink onto the counter and pushed through the crowd. He didn't know why. The last time he saw her, he had nearly arrested her. She wouldn't want to see him or talk to him.

But he wanted to see her. He wanted a distraction from the mess his life had recently become. Ygritte came with her own complications, but they all seemed so simple compared to everything else.

But by the time he forced his way through the rowdy night crowd and onto the street, he had lost sight of her in the darkness. He looked left and right. If he walked in the right direction, maybe he'd find her again.

And what? He thought. What then? What's the plan?

He started to go right…then went left instead. Left felt like a better direction. He walked swiftly through the night, searching for another flash of red hair. He was so focused on that, he forgot to pay much attention to his surroundings. Didn't notice the two men falling into step behind him until he rounded the corner onto an all too empty street and caught a flash of them out of the corner of his eye.

That's what I get for chasing after random women who probably don't want to talk to me, Jon thought. His hand went to his belt where he kept his gun on duty. Only he wasn't on duty, and he didn't have his gun. He had a knife in his back pocket, and he inched toward that as he turned.

"Did you gentlemen need something?"

"Money," one man said. Only his voice sounded strange—more like a hiss or a growl than a normal speaking voice. Facing him now, Jon could see something strange in his posture. His shoulders were hunched, his neck cocked at a slightly odd angle. His gaze not quite focused. This was a man on a very bad drug high. Looking at his companion, it seemed they had gotten into the same stuff. "Need money. For another hit."

"Don't have anything to give you, friend." Jon took a step back, his hand closing around his knife. "And I don't recommend starting anything. I may be off duty, but I'm with the police."

"Don't care." The man swayed as he stepped forward. "Give it to me."

He lunged, faster than Jon thought possible—almost like he was throwing himself at Jon with no care for how he landed. Jon's knife was only halfway out of his pocket when the man collided with him. His nails caught Jon in the face, tearing skin with their force as he took them down. Jon let out a yell and dug his knife into the man's shoulder. But he barely flinched. He just looked down at Jon, rage in his eyes.

I'm fucked, thought Jon as the other man began stumbling toward him as well.

A loud crack echoed through the street and the man's eyes dulled. He toppled off Jon, revealing a figure with a flash of orange hair. Ygritte. She was holding a rusty crowbar aloft.

"It's you," Jon said.

"Aye, it's me, Jon Stark." She swiped at the other man as he ran at her, catching him across the jaw and causing him to stumble. "Now get the fuck on your feet and run."

He obeyed, staggering to his feet. When the man came at Ygritte again, he rushed forward, punching him in the face and sending him to the ground.

"That's not running." Ygritte grasped his shoulder and gave him a little shove. "That way."

He started moving without thought, his heart racing. He had no idea what in the seven hells had gotten into those men and he didn't want to stick around to find out. He could only hope that Ygritte had some explanation to give.

He needed a few simple answers in his life.

They ran a few blocks until they reached an abandoned construction sight. Ygritte looked both ways before ushering him past the iron beams and down a set of stairs. They found themselves in a cramped basement of sorts, but there was quite a bit of supplies. Supplies that looked fresher than the abandoned project suggested.

"What is this place?"

"Emergency stash," Ygritte said. "Sometimes you can't go home. Need a place to lay low." She gave him a look. "If the police find out about this place in the next few weeks, I'll know it was you and I'll strangle you myself."

"I won't tell them," Jon said. "Poor way to repay you for saving my neck."

"Wish I could have saved your pretty face," Ygritte said, looking him over.

"Is it that bad?" Jon asked.

"I think you'll live," Ygritte said. "I have something for it though. No telling what was under that man's fingernails."

She rummaged through a box until she came up with some disinfectant and a cloth. Jon accepted it gratefully and carefully dabbed at the wounds, wincing at the burn.

"So," he said. "What was up with them?"

"Long Night," she said. "One hell of a bad batch."

Long night. Jon had lifted that drug off plenty of punks since starting the job. He'd never seen anything like that though.

"You said your people don't mess with 'Long Night'," Jon said slowly. "Why?"

"You almost got eyes scratched out by those sorry saps and you need to ask?" Ygritte raised an eyebrow. "It's poison, Jon Stark. At best it rots your brain. At worst, it excites all your worst impulses. Fear, anger, hatred. Sends them all flaring up inside you until you feel like you're about to burst."

"If the side effects are that bad then why is anyone buying it?" Jon asked.

"Used to be safer," Ygritte said. "Addictive as anything in the seven hells, yeah. But the side effects weren't much. Just gave you a 'long night'." She shrugged. "But someone's been fucking up the batches lately. Makes it all more dangerous. And the people already hooked on it? Well, they risk it anyway."

"Right." Jon's brow furrowed. "There have been a lot more overdoses lately. Some of them rich kids. Long Night is…big with the rich."

"Aye," Ygritte said. "Maybe the person who fucked up the batches has it out for all you with silver spoons up your asses."

Jon frowned. "I don't—"

"Don't go denying it," Ygritte said. "I know you. You're a part of the Stark family. You grew up in something close to a palace. Maybe you're just a cousin but you've seen more money than any of my people have ever dreamed of."

Jon fell silent. Then he nodded. "You're right. Sorry."

She observed him for a long moment before huffing an orange curl out of her face. "We're born where we're born. Some of us get luckier than others."

Jon's mouth twitched. "Thank you. For helping me. You didn't need to."

"You helped me once," Ygritte said. "Only copper who ever has. Just paying you back."

Jon smiled softly. "Maybe we can meet in less dangerous circumstances next time?"

"Give me your number and I'll think about it," she said with a crooked grin.

He did. Because amidst the chaos of his life, she was one bit of chaos that he wanted to get to know better.

A/N: At least I'm giving you guys pairing stuff in the midst of all the growing tension. Hope you enjoyed. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!