"As I live and breathe..."
Jon glanced up from his fifth or sixth, glass of Scotch, turning to see his late father's overweight best friend staring at him.
"I know you've been here a few times since everything but I never set eyes on you since that day." Robert sighed, taking a seat beside him.
"Hello, Robert," slurred Jon, raising his glass.
Robert gave him a short nod. "You been here a while," he said, checking his watch. "Three hours. We don't close until 1 but still, that's a record for you."
Jon rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood. "I've gone on longer with Robb..."
"Ah, yes! You two did run up quite a bill back in the day." Robert smiled, pouring himself a drink. "How are you, Jon?"
"Did Sansa put you up to this?" Jon asked. "She's the reason I'm here. Just want a little peace, please."
"Your family are worried about you."
"They're fine. I wasn't there when half our family were being killed, I'm sure they can let me have these few hours alone," said Jon, bitterness laced in his words. "You know what?" He chuckled spitefully. "If I'd answered my bloody phone, Robb would still be here, drinking this disgusting drink with me. Oh, and he'd be running away from home because of the baby who would have been one..."
Robert sighed, sipping his drink. There was nothing he hated more than a dead best friend's depressed child.
"Look, I'm not a therapist but I do know a good one - if you want to talk-"
"I don't need a shrink," said Jon. "Why do people keep saying that? I'm perfectly fine!"
"Cut him off," ordered Robert to the bartender. He waved his hand and Cleganes 1 and 2 appeared almost out of nowhere. "Lift him and take him upstairs."
"Yes, boss," Clegane 2 replied, his older brother merely giving a growl.
Jon frowned, backing away from them. "What the fu-"
He was quickly hoisted over Clegane 1's shoulder, Number 2 beginning to part a path for them to go through to get upstairs.
By accident, or purpose in Jon's mind, Clegane 1 allowed his head to be thumped against the stair railings.
"Ah, shit! Be careful! He may look like broken goods but he's still precious cargo who could sue your arses off!" Robert barked.
He winced at the thought of Jon gaining a concussion from that as well as a hangover.
"I feel like shit..." The older man heard, causing him to roll his eyes.
"Good."
...
"What do you mean when you say Jon's gone AWOL?" Dany asked, walking through the hospital as Sansa struggled to keep up.
"Exactly what I mean by that. He had a meltdown here, Sam brought him home then he exploded on us and left."
Dany stopped to allow an elderly woman enter the door before them. "What sort of places would you find him at?"
"The graveyard, here, Night's Watch but he's not in either of those spots."
"And he doesn't have a key to my place so he wouldn't be there either..." Dany added. "Have you tried your manor?"
Sansa nodded. "Sam's on his way there and Theon, a friend of our late brother, said he hasn't seen anyone since I was there this morning."
"He's an adult, Sansa."
"Who has never blown up at us like that and walk out on us! Dany please," Sansa cried. "I'm worried about him - his mental health. Arya's..." She lowered her voice when doctors passed them. "She's already had suicidal tendencies."
Daenerys was stunned. "When?"
"When we got to Braavos to bring her home, she jumped into a lake that was colder than hell. That's where we met Loras."
Dany sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'll ring him a couple of times. I'll ask around if he's popped in."
"Thank you! I have to get home. I left Arya and Bran and they're both so worried. I don't know what we'd do without Jon. He's our rock."
"Well, maybe it's time to be his instead."
...
Arya frowned when Ghost refused to take the treat from her hand. He never rejected anything.
"Are you missing Jon too? He'll be home soon, buddy."
Ghost didn't reply, merely raising an eyebrow and snuggling deeper into the sofa.
That was when Arya noticed a slimy concoction dripping from the canine's mouth, slapping onto the wooden floor.
"Are you okay, Ghost?" She breathed out, scratching at his neck.
Ghost whined, refusing to budge to respond to the tender rubs of consolation.
"Ghost?" Arya's voice broke. Quickly, she got her phone and rang Sansa. "Sans, there's something wrong with Ghost!"
Sansa sighed on the other line. "He probably misses Jon. He is his after all."
"No... Ghost's lethargic, Sansa."
She heard a sharp intake of breath. "I'm coming home right now. I'll call Osha on the way."
"Is he going to die?" Arya asked, almost whispering as she gave the white dog some comforting rubs.
"Not if I have something to do with it. I bumped into a friend of Jon's at the hospital after I spoke with Dany. Says his future son-in-law's a vet."
"How did you even get into that conversation when we're looking for Jon?" Arya frowned.
"The guy asked how Ghost was doing since he knew that Jon and he were very close best friends." Sansa chuckled. "He also promised to call if he heard anything from Jon. The guy was a friend of Dad too and really cares for Jon."
Arya nodded. "Okay, well get home quickly. I'll talk to you soon."
She hung up and got ready to go out with her scarf, gloves and boots. She then placed kisses on Ghost's head.
"You're going to be okay... You have to be."
...
Jon groaned as the curtains were pulled open on him, feeling a slap on his lower leg.
"Fuck off, Robert!"
"Now, now. That's not a good way to greet the man who's ordered you a full brekkie courtesy of room service. Come on lad, I've got some ibuprofen and water for that headache. Couldn't find any paracetamol."
Jon sat up, rubbing his face. "I'm good, just get me the water. Where the fuck am I?"
"Oh, okay, Mr Doctor! Think you can brave it out? Clegane 1 hit your head so I'd advise you to take something. Just my professional advice is all. And we're at Castle Black Hotel. The best."
Jon would have chuckled if not for the vomit which left his body and straight into the bin that Robert quickly gave him.
"Oh, God..."
"Oh, God indeed! Help this boy now!" Robert guffawed. "You're not as worse than Joffrey. The boy's a lightweight!"
Soon, Jon was full of food and staring at the window.
Robert had given him privacy to get showered, clean and dressed which the young man had done so but the peace of being alone, not in a room full of sick people needing help every second or younger siblings pestering him for one thing or another made him feel good.
He felt shit. He couldn't blame his siblings, they did nothing. It was his job to worry about them and protect them, he put himself in that position willingly but he couldn't help but want the occasional break.
"Ah, you're looking better!" Robert said, entering the hotel room. "Lovely view, isn't it? My little brother is planning on holding his wedding here at the hall downstairs. The Bridal party would stay here with this view." He smiled approvingly.
Jon sighed. "Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I didn't take on my siblings. We only share the same father, I'm not entirely obliged to them..."
"Jon..."
"I had my own life before they died. I did whatever I wanted, spent whatever I wanted. I didn't have to worry about living paycheck by paycheck because I knew my father would send me money regardless of what Catelyn told him. I was happy but now I feel like I'm trapped," he sniffled. "Trapped in a paradox of worry, scared shitless and emptiness. What if I mess up their lives because I can't provide for them? Can't protect them?"
Robert shrugged, taking a seat. "I... I don't know. Uh, shortly before her untimely death, Catelyn gave me a letter I retrieved from my house over the night. It's addressed to you."
"Why on Earth would Catelyn Stark write me a letter? Someone she loathed from the moment I was brought into her home."
"Just... take it. Do with it as you please. I've got a meeting but I've hired someone to meet you in an hour. Please use them in good use."
Jon frowned, taking the letter and watching Robert leave. Surely enough, the letter was addressed to him in Catelyn Tully-Stark's handwriting.
He was almost afraid to read it, fear of Catelyn's berating words still existing after her death but he opened it up nonetheless and read it to himself.
Jon,
For years, I have treated you unfairly and unjust which is quite ironic considering my lawful career. You were the product of Ned's infidelity and it hurt me to the core to see your face every day. I was not the best of wives back then, I cannot fault him for leading astray. I had hoped he'd find your birth mother and return you to her but years went by and you were becoming difficult by the years allowing me to easily refuse you as Ned's heir to the Winterfell fortune along with your siblings. But after seeing your eyes light up in happiness at being sent to boarding school years ago, my heart wrenched and I suddenly felt remorse at being part of why you were glad to leave. This is hard for me to write, especially since you are now a man on your own accord, facing the world of adulthood properly. You are a man, Jon and not that small child who resented me as much as I used to resent back. It was then, when you were small, that I realised you longed for the rearing from a mother. I hope we can build bridges, I hate that it has taken over twenty years to get to this place where I've forgiven your father for his past mistakes and not take it out on you. You are very close with your half-siblings, you adore them as much as they adore you and I would not hesitate, shall anything happen to Ned or me, your aid in supporting them. Your heart is made of gold, I see that now and even back then but you wear your heart on your sleeve and perhaps that is why I found it hard to tolerate such a naive person who let their guard down so easily. I ramble on. I made this letter instead of talking face to face because I loved writing as a child, something Ned nor your siblings ever knew. I just wanted to share something special with you, my son.
Love, Catel-your willing stepmother and hopeful adoptive mother.
Tears slipped down Jon's cheeks unwillingly as he re-read the letter. About to slip it back into the envelope, he noticed something inside.
Inside was a fountain pain with silver lettering on the side.
Dear Jon, with love, Catelyn.
He didn't know what he felt. He recognised this pen. It had been one of ten pens passed down generations of Tullys but this one had a personalised message, something Jon was shocked that could ever happen. This had not been intended to be passed down any more. It ended with him.
But he was confused. He rarely saw Catelyn nor spoke to her but then he began to notice her looks of longing every year he came back from boarding school for special occasions.
She'd refused to speak to him although when he was seventeen and home for Easter, in his most rebellious year, she'd stopped him on his way to his room and fixed his collar, wiping lint off it.
Jon had thought nothing of it, rolling his eyes since he thought that in her eyes, he looked rough and she couldn't have anyone looking the tiniest bit unkempt in her manor.
The Christmas before she died, she'd given Jon a ghost of a smile but he believed it was because of the wine she sipped on. It was her third glass and she had kept quiet throughout the family's game session. When he'd said a joke, everyone had laughed with him but Catelyn held a small smile, glancing away when their eyes met.
Also, Jon swore that every time he returned home, his room would smell of her expensive musky perfume.
Jon wondered if there were more letters from her. He'd have to find them and ask why Robert held this one.
It was impossible. Robert was probably having him on.
There was no way Catelyn Stark would willingly write a letter to her husband's bastard son.
He didn't know how long he sat there, thinking about his late stepmother's game or intentions but his suspicions were cut short when there were three sharp knocks on the door.
Opening it, he was met with a large, bald-headed man with a sly smile on his face.
"Varys. I'm your new grief therapist."
"Fuck you, Robert..." Jon muttered under his breath, letting the man in.
...
"Is he going to be okay?" Arya asked, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I'll need to perform tests," the vet replied. He was called Rowe and he was Tormund's future son-in-law. "Until we get the bigger picture, I can't say of his condition."
Ghost whined, his eyes resting on Arya and she understood his message. He wanted his handler, his pack master.
"He'll be here soon, boy. Good boy..." Sansa said, giving him scratches on his head.
Rowe cleared his throat. "We'll be taking him for tests now. It would be advisable to call Jon."
The girls nodded, leaving and heading into the waiting area which was separate from the reception waiting room.
They would hate to allow Ghost to die as their own dogs had died, Nymeria ending up being the one of the two to live until she ran away, presumably dead as well.
"He isn't answering," said Sansa in frustration. "We've really gone and pissed him off, haven't we? I just wanted to look after him like he looked after us."
"He's hurting every day and keeping that from us, putting on a strong face. He isn't used to being the needy one."
Sansa nodded. "He's stubborn and proud. Just like Dad. I'll try him again."
...
"Let's go to your childhood," Varys said, crossing his left leg over his right, peering at Jon through his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
"Why do you want to talk about my childhood?" Jon frowned. "What's that got to-"
Varys cleared his throat, silencing Jon. "Jon Snow. Unusual name, isn't it? I've never come across a person named Snow. A Sand, yes but never Snow. Was it your mother's name?"
"I don't know anything about her. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't."
"Your father never told you? Why?"
"He didn't get a chance to. He's dead." Jon deadpanned.
Varys nodded. "Okay. Were you raised by your father?"
"Yes," said Jon. "And my step... - his wife."
"You hesitated."
"She wasn't my mother in any way."
"But she was married to your father. Went on to give him five children too. By marriage, she was your stepmother just as much as their children being your half-siblings."
Jon looked away. "We weren't close. We avoided each other. It was easy, the family manor was big enough to do so."
"Hmm," replied Varys. "Were you and your father close?"
Jon blinked. "Very close, he was my dad."
"You didn't resent him for not telling you who your mother was?"
Shaking his head, Jon replied, "I had no reason to resent him. I trusted my father to believe that he was keeping me away from pain. Perhaps, she died or wasn't who I'd thought she'd be." He chose his words carefully. He wouldn't have liked to imagine his mother working for a strip club or anything. "My dad had a one-night stand and went back to Catelyn. There's nothing to it."
"Did you like your father?" Varys asked.
"Like him?" Jon repeated. "I loved him. Adored him even. He taught me so much and I aimed to be just like him in every way. People said I looked like him more than my siblings did. Robb, Sansa and Rickon took after their mother and Arya, Bran and I took after our father."
"I've seen your family. Must agree with you there. How was your relationship with your elder brother? Robb, was it?"
Jon gave him a short nod, small smile ghosting his lips. "Robb and I were close. We did everything together, even in our adult years. We only began to drift apart when he got married and his wife was expecting," he held back a sob. "I could talk to Robb about everything and anything. When we were little, before Arya came along, I'd be so shy. I'd hide away from everyone and when it was time for bed, I'd go the whole day without coming across a single person. Until Robb began appearing out of nowhere, figuring out my little routine. He pestered me, asking me to play with him - he was such a loud kid, you couldn't say 'no' to him otherwise he wouldn't take it. So, I began to play with him and stopped hiding."
"He brought you out of your shell."
"He did," smiled Jon. "Don't know how the arsehole did it. I thought I went by undetected for years until the bloody idiot figured me out! He taught me to be brave and strong. That was about the time that I ignored his mother's insults to me. I was old enough to understand what 'bastard' and 'nobody' meant."
Varys tilted his head. "Your relationship with Lady Stark was hostile? Even when you were a mere child?"
Jon winced. "Wouldn't call it a relationship. But something changed when I was fifteen. I had been expelled from mine and Robb's private school and sent to a boys' only boarding school. I remember being so relieved to go but she looked so... heartbroken."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because Robb sent me a letter about her crying at night. His bedroom was directly below our parents' and whenever our father went to do the night shifts, she'd cry. I didn't think anything of it but she never was hostile to me since then."
Jon paused and Varys allowed him to take the time to his thoughts. The young man wondered if sharing her letter with the therapist would help him decipher Catelyn Stark's mind.
"How about Rickon? He was fourteen when he passed."
Now, tears slipped down Jon's cheeks as he closed his eyes. He felt guilt for Rickon's death most of all. A young bright life cut short by grief.
"I..." Jon's throat closed. He took a deep breath. "Rickon, we weren't overly close but I was very attentive to him when he was a baby. I was twelve when he was born and the others weren't really willing to pay attention to him. Sansa, she was always about herself. Arya and Bran were three and two so they were mere toddlers. Robb just preferred to study hard and play his sports. Rickon was so lonely then and I couldn't stand that he didn't have a friend. He was the youngest and the rest of us had established our own relationships as siblings. Dad and Catelyn weren't expecting Rick, he was a surprise."
"A good one or bad one?"
"Good, definitely. He was the spitting image of Catelyn's mother. She adored him. Rickon called me every day since he got his first phone. He was eleven and finally a 'cool kid'. I was in Med school then but I always took five minutes of my day to speak to him. He'd tell me about his training and send me videos of him improving his techniques. He was proud and strong and he was almost the size of me with how he was eating! He was innocent and pure. He was naive too." Jon swallowed deeply. "If-If I'd accepted his call that night... he'd be alive and so would Robb and his family..."
Varys sat straighter. They were getting somewhere. "So, did you not grieve because you think in a way, their deaths fell on you?"
Jon shrugged. "When I woke up the next morning, I had fifteen missed calls from Rickon." He laughed bitterly. "Normally, after one missed call, I'd be ringing him straight back like I was the bloody Flash. But that night they died," he voice broke. "I didn't take his calls. I didn't call him back, I figured I'd visit him instead in person but when I got to the manor, people were consoling me and I was so confused. On my phone, there weren't only Rickon's missed calls... I had some from Arya and Sansa too and even the police."
"Jon-"
"I was busy being... I was busy sleeping with my ex-girlfriend who did nothing but hurt me every single time - too busy to just pick that phone up and answer my brother's cry for help. I could have prevented his suicide, Robb's d-death... I lost my best friend that day, my wonderful dad, my baby brother and his strong mother. All 'cause I..."
His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID.
"Hello?" He sniffled, answering it.
Varys disappeared to the joint living room, closing the door behind him.
"Jon, thank God!" Sansa breathed out. "You need to get here quickly. Ghost is... I think Ghost's dying."
And Jon felt the air being taken from his lungs.