Sansa was a Chicago native, used to bad winter weather, but Milwaukee's ice storm was trying her patience. She tripped over a construction cone as she crossed the street, and slipped on a patch of ice. A car screeched to a halt inches from her knees.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!"
The driver's face was contorted in a sneer. Sansa didn't deign to reply, just picked herself up, dusted off her coat, and kept walking to the clinic. The grey, cold weather seemed to seep into people's moods. Even Sansa's favorite client, Willas Tyrell, couldn't cheer her up completely, though she did take heart from the progress he was making with his cane.
The mice were the last straw when she got home that night. All she wanted was to collapse on the couch and indulge in the guilty pleasure of having cereal for dinner. The bottom of the cardboard box was chewed through. Again. She swept up the scattered Cheerios and knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She'd try the supermarket across the street.
The store was packed, this close to Christmas, and Sansa fought to make her way through the forest of poinsettias and throng of shoppers. She stopped a surly-looking employee. "Can you point me to the mouse traps?" Finally, she stared at her options in Aisle 6. Was it just her, or was it creepy that the traps were next to the cat toys? She tried to think back, when they'd had this problem once before at home. Robb's friend Theon had set basic mouse traps with spring triggers and cheese. She set her jaw, made two selections, and put them in her cart.
Back at her apartment, she stopped to check her mail, hoping to see Jon. He usually came back from class about this time. She was flipping through Christmas cards when she saw him come in. Sansa smiled and waved. He started to return the smile but glanced at the bag on her arm. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and walked off. She saw him a few more times in the hallway over the next couple of days, but he only averted his eyes and mumbled a few words before leaving. To make matters worse, he begged off on their next Tuesday meal. She was angry with him, and frustrated to discover how much she missed him.
Sansa only saw Jon regularly once a week, but she saved up stories to share with him, and looked forward to hearing how his classes were going at Marquette Law School. She prodded him to talk to his professors and would it kill him to say hi to the classmates who sat next to him? She'd been excited to tell him about how Willas was doing. But at this rate, she wasn't even sure if she'd give him his Christmas present.
She'd finally settled on baking him cookies. He wasn't one to collect knick-knacks, even though his apartment could use a few pictures to brighten up the beige walls. But that gift felt too intimate, so she'd fallen back to the safe realm of food. She figured dropping off a tin of cookies wrapped in a bow shouldn't scare him off. Though she seemed to have done that all on her own, and she didn't know why, and it was driving her nuts.
***
The following week was colder, and she had a number of cancellations at the clinic. She headed home early on Friday and ran into the UPS delivery man at the door. "Excuse me, Miss, could you sign for this?" He was shivering. Sansa took the pen automatically. Her stomach flipped when she realized the package was for Jon. She wished the man happy holidays and stood in the hall, pondering what to do. The box didn't look like it came from a family member. She'd almost resolved to lean it against his door, but she knew she and Jon needed to talk. She didn't feel up to knocking, so she lugged the box upstairs and sent Jon a short text.
-Package for you. Stop by.
Jon was at her door a few minutes later.
"Hi."
"Hi. Your package is on the counter. Come on, it's heavy, you're going to have to carry it downstairs." She walked to the kitchen without another word. Jon followed at her heels.
"What's in there?" She was curious despite herself.
He grimaced. "Never mind. Thanks for signing."
"Jon. It's been a long few weeks and you've barely said two words to me and I want to know what's going on."
Jon waited a moment before answering. "Mouse traps," he said, as if that explained everything.
"Excuse me?"
Jon shook his head. "It's not my business." When Sansa fixed him with a glare, he went on. "Your spring traps. I hate those. I saw you bringing them in."
"Yes, I recall the cold shoulder you gave me."
Jon winced. "They're cruel, Sansa."
This was no time to notice how brown his eyes were. "Am I supposed to let the mice eat my Cheerios?"
"No. You catch them and release them. These are catch-and-release cages, I had to order more online, I've already got four set up downstairs."
"So that box is full of mouse condos."
"Temporary shelters."
"Is this why you were angry at me?" She forced herself to be gentle. Jon was struggling to talk. She studied him under her kitchen lights. He was a contradiction, a loner who cared deeply about others, a man who went to war but set traps for mice so he could set them free. "Tell me Jon. Please."
"They didn't ask for this. It's cold, this is what happens when it gets cold, the new construction across the street, it drives them out of their homes, the grasses and the weeds they live under, so they come here. I get more of them down on the main level."
"But where are you going to put them where they'll be safe?"
"I set them free at the lake. I'd rather them get killed by a hawk than by a trap."
Sansa sighed. "Well, I'd better return these." She put the package of spring traps, still wrapped in cellophane, by the front door so she wouldn't forget.
"Wait - you didn't use the traps?"
"No. They seemed cruel, even to me, if you can believe that." She was still miffed at him. "I checked for holes, and found some under the sink. I filled them up with foam insulation and presto, no more mice." Her brow furrowed. "Though I expect you wind up with more visitors downstairs now."
Jon looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Sansa. I shouldn't have assumed."
"No, but here we are. Shall we check your 'temporary shelters'?" She couldn't keep her lips from turning up at the corners.
"Sounds good."
They found two fuzzy captives in Jon's apartment. He tapped the cage. "Hey there, little guys." The larger brown mouse twitched its nose in Jon's direction.
"I think I've figured you out. You'd rather talk to mice than people."
"You might be right about that." Jon leaned back on his heels. "Listen, I can handle this part, Sansa. I know it's late."
"It's 6:30, Jon. Have you ever seen me in pajamas at 6:30?" He flushed, and Sansa hurried on. "The lakefront's the best place for them?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
Jon held the cage – Sansa's newfound appreciation for mice only extended so far – and placed the mice in the back seat of his old black Toyota.
"Sorry the car's not washed."
"I think your three passengers forgive you." Sansa fastened her seatbelt. The trip to the waterfront was quick.
The lake was frozen at the edges, with choppy waves breaking against the ice a little ways from shore. The park was quiet, though she could see squirrels running between trees in the patchy grass. Low, heavy clouds hung overhead.
"No hawks, Jon. Hopefully that's a good sign." She rubbed her hands together, wishing she'd remembered her gloves.
Jon put the cage on the ground and undid the wire latch. The mice started sniffing the few tufts of brown grass poking up from the snow. They perked up, ears swiveling. The larger one ventured out first, with the grey mouse following soon after.
"Thank you, Sansa." Jon was relieved, calmer, though his voice was still tight in his chest. She didn't fully understand why this was important to him, though she suspected he'd had to harm others in the army, and the task had brought him no joy and significant pain. His words were so heartfelt that she glanced over and reached for his hand in the dark. They'd been careful, all these months, not to touch each other, even – especially – when sitting close together.
Sansa had daydreamed about loitering at the door with him, hugging him goodbye, leaning into his chest, even tilting her chin to kiss him, and it was precisely because those daydreams affected her strongly that she gave him a wide berth. But tonight, surrounded by trees, feeling the breeze off the lake, she felt braver, more open to showing him how she felt. He laced his fingers with hers as soon as she brushed his hand. His grip was warm and his eyes softened. She felt a current between them, real and electric. They stayed that way until the moon peeked through the clouds and broke the spell. She let go reluctantly as they headed for the car.
They talked easily with each other again on the drive home, and Sansa made Jon promise to come for pizza next Tuesday before they pulled up to the apartment building. Sansa gave thanks for modern heating as they stepped into the hallway. Suddenly she had no reason to keep Jon near her. She turned to walk up the stairs, away from him. Jon was already walking to his apartment. Sansa stopped on the landing.
"Jon! I'm - I'm making you cookies for Christmas." Her voice echoed in the hallway. She hadn't needed to shout.
Jon gave her a warm smile. "You don't have to get me anything, Sansa."
"Weren't you the one who ate two dozen – two dozen, Jon – of my peanut butter cookies in on sitting?"
"You've got me there."
She tucked her hair behind her ear. Jon tracked her movements, and for a brief, bright moment she wondered if he had daydreams too. She bid him goodnight and went to start baking.
***
Only Sansa would wrap a tin of cookies so beautifully. Jon tugged at the bright red ribbon. A note fluttered onto the table. Resisting the enticing scent of the peanut butter cookies – he really could eat the whole tin, if he wasn't careful – he read Sansa's flowing script. "To: Jon Snow, Hero and Protector of Small Creatures Everywhere." He sat down, overcome. When she'd taken his hand in the park, he'd wanted to pull her close, to brush his lips over her auburn hair, to thank her somehow for her company, for bringing him out of his shell and back into the world. Instead he held on, as long as she'd let him, giving in to the connection between them. He had a gift picked out for her too, but he hadn't worked up the courage to give it to her yet. Next week, he'd do it next week, he promised himself, as he ran Sansa's ribbon through his fingers.