Chapter Text
Prologue-
Davos Seaworth watched his employer angrily pacing the empty living room. The echo of a slamming door was still ringing throughout the place. The boy’s muffled sobs, the ones he hadn’t allowed to escape in front of his father, could be heard coming from the next room and Davos’ heart was pierced on his behalf. Life could be so unfair. He’d served Mr. Targaryen for several years now though and knew he’d be more irritated than anything by this delay.
“Perhaps I could give it a try, sir?”
Rhaegar turned towards him with a fearsome scowl before his expression softened marginally. “I suppose. Maybe you’ll have better luck making him see sense.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t forget I’ve got that meeting with the Board in an hour. Calm him down if you can but, one way or another, he’s coming with us.”
“Of course, sir.”
Mr. Targaryen gave the apartment’s shabby furniture a final look of disdain and left to go wait in the limo. Once he was gone, Davos approached the boy’s room. The sobs had already subsided.
They’d only met a handful of times before today but Davos already understood the child better than his father ever would. A very bright boy, observant and curious, though not always the most attentive in class. A touch stoic for one so young and stubborn at times but also possessing a loving heart. Quick to take offense particularly when it came to his mother. He could hardly fault him for that. But most of all, a child in mourning; grieving, angry, feeling miserably alone and, without any say in the matter, he now found his world being turned on its ear. Meanwhile, his only living parent appeared completely incapable of giving him the understanding, patience and affection he desperately needed.
He put his hand on the knob. He’d not locked it. “Jon? It’s Davos. May I come in?” He received no reply but he’d take it as acceptance in this case. Better he try than allow his father to have him carried out of here like a sack of a potatoes, a very unwilling sack at that.
He was sitting on his bed, wiping the last of his tears away when Davos entered.
“I don’t want to live with him.”
Davos pulled the lone chair to the center of the room and sat. “I know you don’t but you cannot stay here. Your father…”
“Never wanted me before.” His mulish expression dared Davos to say otherwise. A hard truth and the man would not patronize him by pretending he was mistaken.
“He’s taking you now. You’re twelve, Jon. You can’t live alone and you’re his son. You’ll be…” He hesitated. He’d wished he could say he would be loved. He can be…by me. “You’ll be taken care of.”
Dark grey eyes flickered to a picture sitting by his bed. Her eyes had been grey, too. She’d been a beautiful woman and a loving mother. Davos hoped the child would know another woman’s love in time.
Elia will be kind to you, I know, but it will not be easy for her to have a daily reminder of his infidelity. Your father will be who he has always been. That thought brought no comfort at all.
“Can I still go to my school?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I cannot say for certain.” Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen led very busy lives that kept them away from home a good deal. At twelve, it was more likely he’d be sent to boarding school like his half-siblings. “But wherever you go to school if you ever need anything…anything at all, you can always call on me.”
He seemed to take some comfort in that. Time was slipping by and he could already picture Rhaegar debating about coming back up to the apartment and any progress he’d made being dashed away again. Davos looked at another picture by Jon’s bed, a recent one. Lyanna Snow and her son at a ballgame, wearing matching hats and smiling for the camera.
“That’s a nice picture.”
“She took me to see the Wolves’ game for my birthday last month as a surprise, second row. I’d only ever seen them on TV. All my friends at school were so jealous. It was the best day I’ve ever...she said we’d try and go again sometime.”
Rhaegar owned a box at the stadium but never went. The tickets would’ve been expensive on her salary.
The child’s face screwed up in misery, tearing his heart to shreds. “I miss her, Davos. I miss her so much.”
He didn’t want to cry, Davos knew, but some hurts are too great to ignore, even for young stoics. He crossed the few feet that had separated them and held the boy close while he cried. His father might never give him the things he needed most, so Davos swore to himself that he would do his best to.
Eighteen years later
“Davos, I need you.”
“I’m on Steel Street. Where are you, lad?”
Five miles away. The crackling sound from his earpiece wasn’t promising either. His commlink was going. The electromagnetic pulse had done its damage. Plus, he had more immediate concerns.
His head felt fuzzy from the last few blows he’d taken. The stitch in his side as he ran was getting unbearable.
Assessment: He was injured, help was out of reach and there were too many of them.
Solution: He had to get the fuck out of here.
Yeah, good luck with that.
He climbed out a window onto the fire escape. It was raining and nighttime. He hoped that would aid his escape. Up and up, he climbed.
“Davos!” he tried once more.
The reply was garbled and then silence. The old man would be frantic. He only hoped he’d live long enough to receive the tongue lashing he’d give him for making him worry like this.
‘Are you trying to send me to an early grave, lad?’ he’d asked when he’d first told him of his new hobby.
He reached the roof and sprinted across the top but two men were already on his tail. He was running out of rooftop but the next building was not as tall. It was also a good twelve feet away. He turned to face his pursuers, trying to decide if he should risk the jump or attempt to take them down. And then more of them will show up and you’ll still need to jump.
His suit was resistant to gunfire but not completely bulletproof. Just as he’d made his choice, he felt something like a punch near his armpit. It was no punch. He made the jump but missed his footing as he landed. He stifled a yelp of pain. He had to keep going.
None of them were foolish enough to jump after him but they had men on the ground and radios. He was being hunted down. Like the animal you are. And just like any animal, he did not want to be captured.
Taking what Davos would surely call a foolish risk, he jumped from that roof to the fire escape of another. His ankle howled in agony but he did not fall. He entered through a fortuitously open window, quiet as a shadow, and hurried down the stairwell to the exit. On the street, he didn’t see anyone and the parked cars showed no signs of occupants. The rain was pouring down and it was after midnight. No one was out taking a stroll. No one but thugs and a fool in a wolf mask.
He limped along a few blocks, losing blood from his wound as his head continued to feel swimmy and wondering where he could try to safely contact Davos again. The buildings were nicer here and he saw a lone figure darting down the street towards him under a red umbrella, a woman.
She opened her mouth to scream when he abruptly stopped her and he quickly covered it with his gloved hand.
“Please…I won’t hurt you,” he promised, releasing her again.
He was losing consciousness. He sank to his knees on the sidewalk and looked up at her. She was illuminated by the streetlamps despite the rain. Red umbrella, red hair, red lips…but an angel’s face with eyes that would rival the blue seas around the Summer Isles.
“Are you injured? I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No…no, please. I need Davos,” he said faintly.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“No one can know. Please…”
He couldn’t even say for certain if he’d spoken the words or not. Maybe he’d just imagined them.
“What’s your name?” the angel asked again.
Jon, he thought but never said it. Everything faded to black.
Dr. Sansa Stark dug through her hall closet looking for the overstuffed box of supplies Osha had prepared at the hospital for her when Rickon had broken his wrist and collar bone five months ago skateboarding. She sighed with relief when she found it and quickly returned to her bedroom. The rest of her instruments were already waiting.
“You should’ve just called an ambulance…and the police,” she muttered to herself. But she hadn’t.
A stranger was lying in her bed but there was no question of who he was. The man who had been wearing a wolf’s mask and dressed head to toe in a black suit made of neoprene, Kevlar and other fabrics she couldn’t readily identify could be none other than Night Wolf. He’d been all the talk of Kings Landing since he’d brought his vigilante justice to town nearly a year ago. Eight months ago some lucky pap had managed to snap a picture of him and the paper had dubbed him with the pseudonym.
Sansa had followed his career more closely than she’d care to admit. His tactics were illegal obviously but he was achieving results when it came to cleaning up the streets. However, the authorities wouldn’t see it that way. Wanted by the police and criminals alike, he was here in her apartment…and only wearing his boxer briefs at the moment.
“Holy shit, this is so awesome.”
“Rickon, put that down!” she snapped.
Rickon put down the star-shaped knife-like thingies that were designed for the gods only knew what. Hurting people anyway.
Her brother had moved down here six months ago to attend college. Their mother worried about her baby leaving the nest and had asked Sansa to watch over him which she’d gladly done. Rickon had found he didn’t mind hanging out with her either. He often split his time between his cramped dormitory and ramen noodle dinners and his big sister’s far more spacious place and fully stocked pantry and fridge. It was fortunate he’d been staying over tonight. She would never have managed to drag an unconscious man up to her apartment alone.
Her patient began to groan and stir.
“You’re safe. Be still for me, okay? You’re going to be alright but I need to treat...”
Dark grey eyes opened and she gasped, momentarily forgetting her standard routine when dealing with a patient regaining consciousness.
Within seconds, her initial recognition turned to certainty. Sansa now knew something else about her patient, something the rest of Kings Landing was dying to know. She knew Night Wolf’s true identity.
Jon Snow’s face had been in the papers often enough over the past sixteen months since she’d graduated from medical school and moved to Kings Landing. The illegitimate son of tycoon industrialist Rhaegar Targaryen, he’d inherited his father’s fortune after Rhaegar, his wife and Jon’s step-siblings had been murdered in cold blood by the Lannister Crime Family ten years earlier. He’d reportedly left college after their deaths and fallen off the grid for several years before turning back up in the capital shortly after Sansa had moved there.
Not too long before the Night Wolf sightings began.
Just like his alter ego, Jon Snow was a bit of a mystery to the local papers, acting like the eccentric recluse at times and behaving like a rich playboy at others. But he’d made some changes at the company he’d inherited since his return, changes for the better from what Sansa had heard, so perhaps he was trying to grow up at last and be a productive member of society, a thirty-year-old man trying to follow in his father’s footsteps maybe.
Or maybe not, Sansa thought wryly considering his nocturnal activities.
Whatever his motivations were for dressing up in a suit and mask and fighting bad guys at night, there was clearly more to Jon Snow than met the eye. He was also ludicrously good-looking even after everything he’d been through tonight.
“Hey, Angel,” he said dazedly.
“Hey,” she answered, wondering why he’d called her that and why it made her blush. She couldn’t seem to think of another thing to say either.
She could see him trying to put the pieces together. He was wincing from the pain but smiling, too. “You didn’t call the cops on me, huh?”
She shook her head. She needed to focus on treating him and not the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled or the silly little flutter that caused.
“Are these some sort of super badass handcuffs?” Rickon asked, holding up something else from the heavy utility belt her patient had been wearing. “Where’s your cape?”
“Didn’t you see ‘The Incredibles?’ No capes,” Jon Snow said. His dazed tone worried her but at least he was capable of joking.
Her brother laughed.
“Rickon, leave his things alone,” she huffed, secretly glad he’d spoken and drawn her away from those ridiculous daydreams she’d entertained a time or two when she’d read stories about the Night Wolf. “I’m sorry. This is my brother Rickon and I’m Sansa Stark.”
“I’m…I’m Jon.”
“You know your name then. That’s a good sign. I need to assess you for a concussion and take a look at that ankle but first…the GSW.”
He glanced at the instruments and medical supplies she’d arranged by the bed. “You’re a doctor.”
“I am.”
“Lucky me.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ve given you a mild pain reliever but I’m sorry to say it’s all I have here so unless you want to reconsider me calling for that ambulance…”
“You’re saying it might smart a bit.”
“You could say that. Rickon, bring the lamp closer.” She gloved up and picked up her scalpel. “Are you sure about this?”
His eyes widened slightly before he adopted a look of utmost fortitude. “I’m all yours, Dr. Stark.”
Well, wasn’t that an interesting proposition?
He’d done his best to put on a brave front but she wasn’t fooled and soon he was hurting too damned much to keep pretending. Not that she was trying to hurt him, but someone digging a bullet out of your armpit was always going to hurt like hell regardless of skill. He’d wound up chewing on one of her bed’s accent pillows and was wringing wet with sweat by the time she started stitching him up. She was cool as a cucumber. At least for the sake of his ego, he could say her brother had looked ready to faint once or twice, too.
“Rickon, you can go on to bed. I’ve got it from here.”
“But, Sansa…he’s the…”
“No buts, to bed. You’ve got early class in the morning and it’s a forty minute commute from here,” she finished firmly before returning her attention to him.
“I’m not ten,” her brother grumbled.
“Then, don’t act like it,” she snipped back as he tromped from her bedroom. Jon had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. That would hurt too much right now. “Sorry. Little brothers,” she said, rolling her eyes in a way that conveyed both frustration and affection. “I’m going to give you a sedative to help you sleep.”
In your bed? “I can’t impose on your…”
“You can and you will. You’re not going anywhere so soon after I’ve stitched you up.” She was intelligent and kind but maybe a little bossy. He liked it. She was also gentle as a lamb when she examined his tweaked ankle. Her hair was dry now, a soft auburn curtain framing that angelic face. He liked that, too. “No break I’d wager though you’d need an x-ray to be sure. I’d say a few days rest should see you capable of normal exercise.” He had to chuckle at the way she emphasized normal. He immediately regretted it. “Ribs?”
“Not sure.”
Next thing he knew, Dr. Stark’s hands were on his bare chest. She wore no wedding band or any rings at all. “I’ll write you a script for antibiotics and something for the pain but you’ll need to see a doctor you trust to keep tabs on the healing.”
“I trust you.” Where had that come from? He didn’t really know her.
“You don’t know me.” She was smiling though.
I’d like to know you better. “I know your name and I know you’re a doctor.” He glanced around the room, taking in the décor. “And you like the colors blue and yellow.”
“Blue is calming.”
“And the yellow?”
“It’s cheerful.”
“So are the daisies,” he said, noticing the vase on her dresser. “Are they your favorite flowers?” Who gave them to you?
She didn’t answer the question, not the spoken one or the other. “Sounds like your vision’s alright. Speaking of that though, I need you to follow my light with your eyes, please.”
She was shining a pen light in his eyes and started asking him the date and what he had for breakfast before having him repeat a series of words for her. He passed with flying colors.
“I’ll observe you tonight but I’d like for you to get a CAT scan tomorrow to be certain.”
“Can you do it?”
“No, I’m afraid the apartment didn’t come with one of those.” He started to laugh again at her humor and at his own stupid question. “Sorry, don’t laugh. I…I work at Aemon Targaryen Memorial. I suppose you know where it is. He was your great uncle or something, right?”
He grimaced. She knew who he was. “Great-great-great uncle, I think. I’m a little foggy on that side of the family tree.”
She worried at her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise a sore subject or cause any pain.”
“No, it’s…I owe you so much, Dr. Stark. I don’t want to be a bother either. I’ll…” He attempted to rise. Big mistake. “I need to call Davos.”
“Who’s Davos?”
“My babysitter.” She laughed and he liked that sound a lot. “No, he’s kind of like my…” Dad. “He works for me.”
“Okay. You can borrow my phone and call Dadvos.”
“Davos,” he corrected.
“I heard you,” she smirked.
She was gorgeous, intelligent and witty. Why’d he have to be laid up like this when he met her?
Because you never would’ve met her otherwise.
It was true. He’d dated a few starlets and models for his cover like Davos had suggested but there’d been nothing there. Those women were easy enough to find. He’d call them up and ask if they wished to attend a fundraiser or premier with him and they’d always say yes. They would probably say yes to just about anything he asked he supposed but they’d only been interested in him for the fortune he’d inherited. Those women would never be someone with whom he could share his true self. But a woman like Dr. Stark…like Sansa…she was something else entirely.
She offered her phone and withdrew to her bathroom with her instruments and the bloody sterile pads and bandages she’d used.
“Davos?”
“Gods, I’ve been out of my mind! Where are you?!”
“I’m sorry. I’m safe and I’m alright. Well, I’m going to be alright. I was injured but I’ve…” She was walking back in, carrying a basin and a wash cloth. “I made a friend tonight.”
Sansa sat down on the bed beside him, smiling that he’d called her a friend and that he’d said he trusted her earlier. After a few more reassurances from himself, he asked her to give Davos her address so he could come pick him up tomorrow morning.
Mr. Seaworth seemed like much more than an employee based on the way Jon had been so eager to assure him and the way the man himself quizzed her thoroughly about Jon’s injuries.
She did not miss the way Jon’s lips repeated her address either as she said it. Was he planning to pay her another call sometime? What had she gotten herself into tonight? And did she mind? No.
Once that was handled, she gave him the promised sedative. It wasn’t long till he was looking very drowsy as she rung out the wash cloth and gave him a sponge bath.
“Isn’t this a nurse’s job?” he asked, his words slightly slurred.
“Maybe but my mother’s a nurse and I wouldn’t dream of acting as if I’m too good to do anything she’d do. It was my parents who inspired me to pursue a career in medicine.”
“Is your father a doctor?”
“No, a cop.”
He seemed to find a good deal of amusement in that. “Guess you shouldn’t bring any criminals home for dinner then.”
“Nope.” Well, maybe one. Dad would probably like what you stand for even if he didn’t care for your methods.
He was quiet as she finished up. She was brushing the curls back from his face and thought he might be falling asleep when he spoke again. “My mom was a nurse, too.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. Everyone always talks about him, like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread just because he made a ton of money but…she was a better person than him in every way.” There was a lot of bitterness behind those words but they were practically strangers, weren’t they? She wasn’t sure what to say. His eyes were getting heavy. “I’m sorry, Dr. Stark. I’m just…”
“You can call me Sansa, Jon.”
“Thank you, Sansa,” he murmured as his eyes fluttered closed again.
She resolved to watch him through the night. Concussions could be tricky business and she didn’t like not being able to get a CT. But she’d already worked twelve hours and then had a very busy night since Jon had approached her outside her building on top of having no dinner.
It’s a big bed, she told herself. I’ll just lie down and watch him this way. It’ll be more comfortable.
Within minutes, she was asleep.