#they're all a hotmess express

[sansa-of-oldstones]

In The Chaos - Chapter 4

Finally finished another chapter of this modern au I refuse to abandon.

Chapter 1/ Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Also on Ao3 

-

It’s weeks before Brandon Stark graces them with his presence. Jon had heard of him. Stark Technologies was responsible for a majority of the advancements Jon had seen in his lifetime, and Brandon Stark was its CEO. He’s famous for more than his name, and filthy stinking rich. From what Jon had heard, he’s also a bit of an asshole, and nothing like his brothers. He was anxious to meet this man no one seemed fond of.

He sat next to Sansa in the conference room the hospital had let them use. Robb glared at the clock on the wall from across the table.

“He should have been here ten minutes ago.” Sansa shared her brother’s disapproval.

“He’ll be here.” Benjen promised. Jon had heard Benjen on the phone with who he could only assume was Brandon. Benjen may be younger, but he wasn’t taking any of Brandon’s shit. “It was a long flight.”

“Don’t make excuses for him.” Robb warned. “We still like you.”

Brandon joined them shortly thereafter, wearing a suit that fit him perfectly, and sunglasses Jon knew to be expensive. Before his father was hired to be a part of Ned Stark’s guard, he’d worked for people like Brandon. The fancy clothes, and expensive accessories. Jon knew the type.

A young man not too much older than Jon and Robb stood beside Brandon. Probably the son of an employee, or someone Brandon owed a favor too, Jon decided. Brandon’s eyes landed on Jon while he was greeting Benjen.

“Good gods.” Brandon shook his head. “You didn’t look like Ned when you were little, but you sure as the seven hells do now.”

Jon stared at him awkwardly.

“Brandon, that isn’t your nephew.” Benjen sighed, turning him toward Robb. “This is your nephew.”

“Robb.” He gritted through his teeth, and introduced himself to his uncle.

“That makes a lot more sense.” Brandon nodded. “You must be Sansa. It’s lovely to finally meet you, my dear. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Sansa was as sweet as can be, remembering her manners, but Jon knew it was only courtesy.

“So, you’re the ward...” Brandon turned once again to Jon.

“Jon.” He corrected him. He would not be known as the ward.

“Benny, is there something you’re not telling me about Jon here?” Brandon wondered, making Jon uncomfortable.

“No.” Benjen shrugged, taking the paperwork from in front of Davos.

“So, it’s a coincidence that I feel like a grumpy, teenage Ned is sitting right in front of me?” Brandon asked. “It’s a bit unnerving.”

Perhaps it was guilt. Or grief. Grief can do strange things to the mind, Jon knew.

“Just sign the paperwork.” Benjen shoved the paperwork into Brandon’s chest.

“Am I allowed to read it first?” Brandon smirked. “Always read what you sign, children. Let that be my first lesson to you all.”

“Who’s your friend?” Benjen looked Brandon’s associate over.

“This is Theon Greyjoy.” Brandon answered, still reading. “He’s interning with me.”

“Greyjoy?” Benjen laughed. “How’d a Greyjoy end up interning with you?”

“I applied.” Theon was confident. Jon didn’t like his attitude. He didn’t appreciate the way he was speaking to Benjen. “What’s it to you?”

“Wanted off the Iron Islands, did ya?”

“Where are the others?” Brandon handed Davos the paperwork. “There are three other children?”

“They’re upstairs in the game room.” Davos told him, organizing the papers into a file. He looked tired, Jon thought. It was understandable. The younger Starks were giving them all a run for their money. Bran was miserable, and pissed off at the world. Robb was preoccupied looking out for Bran, and Arya and Rickon felt slighted. Rickon listened to Sansa most of the time, but Arya listened to no one. She was missing her parents, Robb, and Bran. She was acting out. She had taken to influencing Rickon. Jon woke up a few nights before to neither of them in their bed. He found them soaking wet in the lobby. They had snuck into the kitchen, and the pool. They got stranded downstairs without a key. They were lucky they didn’t drown, and Jon had words with the employee at the front desk who was supposed to lock the door to the kitchen and pool. He didn’t tell anyone else. Davos was getting grey hair, and Benjen already had enough to deal with. He knew Sansa would sleep even less. He was satisfied with Arya and Rickon promising to not leave the hotel room alone again.

The game room was a life saver, and a great source of motivation for a recovering Bran. It took a couple weeks, and a lot of patience, but he was now able to sit safely in a wheelchair. When they left to meet with Brandon, he was playing air hockey with Arya.

“How is young Brandon?” Brandon wondered, and Jon noticed Sansa discreetly roll her eyes. Jon could almost hear Bran insisting he was named after Bran The Builder, not their estranged uncle. “I’ve been worried.”

“Have you?” Robb sassed, the sarcasm obvious.

“Robb...” Benjen attempted to intercede, but Robb was not having it.

“It’s been weeks.” Robb raged, clenching his fists. “He wasn’t scared out of his mind while Bran was having surgery. He wasn’t up all night with him after, terrified to lose him too. He hasn’t helped him with therapy. He wasn’t even here for his brother’s funeral. He hasn’t been here.”

He hadn’t visited the ruins of the library, searching for answers they wouldn’t find. He hadn’t had the nightmares. Noises probably didn’t send his heart racing. He hasn’t been traumatized. Jon understood Robb’s anger. It was weirdly comforting. Misery loves company.

“There were matters I needed to attend to.” Brandon offered. “I couldn’t just drop everything going on in my life.”

“Some of us didn’t have a choice.” Jon swore Robb snarled. “Uncle Benjen has responsibilities, and he’s been here. I had plans to go to The Vale, but I guess those went up in smoke with everything else. Bran had plans too. We all did.”

“That’s enough.” Benjen placed hand on Robb’s shoulder.

“It needed to be said.” Robb defended himself. “I won’t apologize.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“You can still go to The Vale.” Brandon sounded sincere.

“No, I can’t.”

“Why don’t we head upstairs.” Davos suggested, hoping to ease the tension. “You can meet the other children.”

They were still playing air hockey when Davos opened the door to the game room.

“That’s seven!” Bran cheered, bringing Rickon into a headlock. “We win!”

“You have Rickon cheating!” Arya whined. “It isn’t fair!”

“You didn’t have a problem with us being a team before we beat you.” Bran pushed the brakes of his wheelchair back so he could move. “Victory lap!”

He circled around the table with Rickon on his lap. Rickon laughed loudly in delight when Bran popped a wheelie. Jon smiled. He’d been working on that for days. It was nice to see them acting like kids again.

“I demand a rematch!” Arya pouted, and noticed their arrival. “Robb or Jon can be on my team!”

“I’m getting tired.” Bran stopped, and Rickon lowered himself off of his brother. “Sorry.”

“Liar.”

“Arya, leave him be.” Robb told her sternly. “Come meet Uncle Brandon.”

“He is lying.” Arya insisted, and shuffled over to them. “Hi.”

“You look just like your aunt.” Brandon smiled at her. Jon had never heard anything about the Starks having an aunt. Brandon tousled Bran’s hair while Rickon hid behind Benjen. “I know you’re all sick of the south. Home is almost ready. Some accommodations for Bran needed to be made.”

“It’s a long trip north.” Robb huffed protectively. “He still needs therapy three times a day.”

“There are perfectly capable therapists up there willing to work with him.”  

“I can go home?!”

“When will it be ready?” Arya was curious, and anxious to leave King’s Landing. She was happy, hopeful.

“I’ve been told a week, but I’m hoping sooner.”

Everyone but Sansa seemed excited. Jon understood it. Going home meant being surrounded by memories of those she lost. It was easier to escape in the hotel.

A few days later, they flew north on Brandon’s plane. Unlike Theon Greyjoy, Jon remained unimpressed. He had a plane, and it still took him this long to be with his nieces, nephews, and brother. It was clear the man had other priorities. Quite frankly, Jon was disgusted.

Everything that was theirs from the Prime Minister’s residence was packed up, and put in storage a couple days after the assassinations. It was waiting for them at Winterfell when they arrived, something that annoyed them all. They would have liked to pack their own belongings, but that wasn’t an option.

“Sansa!” Arya screamed, knowing Sansa’s room was closest to her own. Jon’s new room was down the hall. She was kneeling next to Arya, consoling her when Jon got there. “This is Mom’s! They put it in one of my boxes! This is why I wanted to pack!”

“They put one of Dad’s notebooks in mine.” Sansa soothed her. “I wanted to rip it apart.”

“I just want it to stop hurting!” Arya sobbed. “Get it out of my room!”

It felt like a very personal moment, and Jon felt like he should leave, but he doesn’t. He blinked, and his face was wet. Unless there was something that belonged to his father in his boxes, Jon had nothing of his parents. He barely even remembered his mother. He wasn’t even sure if the memories he has are real, or if he made them up to fill the void her absence left in his life. He’d give anything to have his mother’s necklace, or his father’s notebook.

Sansa held the velvet case, and looked at the necklace that upset Arya so much. “Maybe she wanted you to have it.”

“I don’t want it.” Arya wiped her face. “It’s hers.”

“I’ll hold on to it for you.”

“I don’t care.” Arya sighed. “As long as it’s out of my room.”

“Uncle Benjen brought some cookies from that bakery in Wintertown.” Sansa stood up. “I’m going to have some.”

“Are there lemon cake ones?” She had Arya’s interest. “I like those.”

“Gods, I hope so.”

“I read that you shouldn’t eat your feelings.” Arya worried, following her, and seeing Jon. “Jon? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. He wanted to tell Jon to answer that he’s fine, but Jon wasn’t listening. This had happened before. The therapists his father took him to when he was younger called it dissociation. His mind conveniently pretends he isn’t Jon when it sucks to be Jon. It’s kind of like when you’re little, and pretend you’re invisible. Did other kids play that game, he wondered, while Sansa and Arya tried to talk to Jon. It had been happening more since that day everything went to shit.

“Let’s go downstairs.”

“He’s crying.” Yes, Jon was leaking like a faucet, and there was no stopping it.

“Go downstairs.” Sansa urged, eyeing Jon. Arya does not go downstairs. He was aware of them looking at Jon blubbering like an idiot, but he simply had to wait it out.

“I’m okay.” He was Jon again. “Just tired.”

“You’re all a bunch of liars.” Arya shook her head. “I’m going to eat my feelings.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That was not nothing.” Sansa stared at him. He didn’t blame her. “Are you back with us?”

“I check out sometimes when I get upset.”

“This has happened before?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say.” Sansa grumbled, and brushed past him.

“I’m sorry.” Jon had no idea how to explain it. “I can’t help it.”

“I’m just missing when a bad day was a day it rained after I straightened my hair.”

“That is a bad day.” Jon followed her downstairs.

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me.”

“I’m too tired to tease anyone.” Jon explained. Dissociating was exhausting. “I know what you mean, though. Rain is not a friend to this hair. It means I have to wear a hat or a hood.”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“When I lived a tropical climate, yes.”

“I meant checking out.”

“Don’t worry about it.” They walked into the kitchen. They could see Arya on the front porch, eating her cookies.

“You were catatonic.” Sansa snapped. “Is it still catatonic if you’re crying?”

He was impressed she knew what catatonic meant.

“I’m fully aware of what’s going on.” Jon answered. “I’m Jon, but not. It’s like an out of body experience.”

“Does anyone know?”

“My Dad did.” Jon nodded. “He tried to help. He did.”

“Okay.” Sansa looked through the box on the table. “I won’t tell anyone, but I can’t guarantee Arya won’t.”

“It’s fine.” She passed the box to him. “They’re bound to notice anyway.”

“Does anything help?”

“Not really.” He knew he just had to wait it out until it was over. “Thank you, though.”

Rickon and Robb were out in the yard with Benjen. He wanted to tell Sansa how lucky Rickon is. He’d only had his father. He wanted to tell her how worried he is about her little brother. He didn’t want Rickon to be like him. He doesn’t tell her. She had enough to worry about.

-

Next chapter will be a couple of years later, so that is it for this time in their story. They’re all a mess, and I’m sorry. This has kind of taken on a life of its own. You can probably tell Jon has been a mess for a while. More on that later. I wanted to really focus on him, and his grief this chapter. Also, I wanted to show Arya and Sansa starting to become closer because I need that. Reminder that they will be happy, eventually. Slowburn happiness. Is that a thing? Note: Jon’s mother died when he was four, like Rickon. It was extremely traumatic for him, for reasons that will be discussed later. He sees a lot of himself in Rickon, and that’s why. I want to make it clear that he was very loved by his parents. It’s how he lost them that led to him being such a mess.