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janie_tangerineThe first time he and Brienne get the call, it’s a neighbor. She says there’s screaming going on in the apartment down the hall, and she thought that she heard glass shattering. Robb throws away his almost finished cup of coffee as Brienne drives. He’s surprised when she stops in front of what looks like a relatively high class building – usually, when they get that kind of calls, it’s in a lot worse zones.
“I got this,” he tells her as he opens the car door.
“Are you sure you don’t want back up?” She asks, concerned.
“I can handle it and someone has to mind the radio.” It’s been a busy night – this is the sixth call they got.
“All right. But if you do –
“Sure, I’ll call the moment I realize it.” He likes Brienne – she’s reliable, she can hold her own and she likes the job. It’s more than he can say for most of his previous patrol partners. He’s had enough – he might be just twenty five, but he’s been in the police since he was eighteen.
He walks up to the fourth floor, apartment twenty.
He knocks on the door and he thinks he hears hushed arguing before he hears someone stepping closer.
“Who’s that?”
“Police. A neighbor called and I’d open this door, if I were you.”
The door opens, though not entirely. Two people appear in front of him – one has jet black hair, wears a pink shirt and is looking at Robb as if he’d love it if he died on the spot. He has to be in his early thirties. The other is about Robb’s age, dark hair and a pair of striking dark eyes, and there’s a dark red bruise on his left cheek.
“Officer, how can I help you?” the first one says.
“A neighbor called,” he says, keeping his voice even. “She said she heard strange noises coming from here. Screams, broken glass, the likes.”
“Oh, that’s easily explainable,” the other man keeps on, smiling ever so slightly, and it makes Robb’s skin crawl. “My partner here fell down the stairs before and there was this vase that he knocked down along the way.”
“Right, that’s it,” the second man says, and Robb knows a lie when he can hear one.
But there’s nothing he can do, if the both of them plead that same version.
“Sorry that you came here for nothing,” Creep-in-the-pink-shirt says, and then he slams the door. Robb glances at the name on the door before leaving.
Bolton, it says. There isn’t a second name.
When he gets back on the car, he’s shaking his head.
“Was that what I’m thinking?” Brienne asks.
“Yes,” Robb replies, not bothering to add anything. She knows how it is to stumble into that kind of case but being unable to do anything because the victim will stick with the official version.
He spends the rest of the night thinking about the second man’s dark, sad eyes. Of the way he had slightly flinched the moment he confirmed the ‘I fell down the stairs’ lie – oldest one in the book.
Damn.
“Can you make me a favor?” he asks Brienne when she comes back into the car handing him the third coffee of the night.
“Sure.”
“Can you ask Lannister to look up the guy living in there for me?”
Brienne’s eyes narrow. “You know it’s not exactly protocol,” she says. They can’t exactly search someone up without a real reason.
“Which is why he’d never agree if it was me asking.”
Brienne huffs – she’s probably the one person who doesn’t know already that Sergeant Jaime Lannister, the one in charge of the database in their unit, likes her a lot more than he likes the entirety of his colleagues. She thinks it’s ridiculous, but Robb knows it’s because she’s the one person that managed to handle Lannister’s questionable sense of humor in years. And she doesn’t like to act off protocol.
“Listen, it was bad. Or at least, it looked bad. I only managed to see the – the victim’s face and he definitely hadn’t fallen off the stairs. Please?”
Brienne sighs, then gives him a tight nod. “Fine. You owe me one, though.”
--
The next day, the moment she gets into the car, she hands him a file.
“Your instincts were right,” she tells him. “At least because he was in the database already.”
Robb opens the file with his heart in his throat. The face looking up at him is the same he had seen yesterday. Ramsay Bolton, thirty-one years old, and he already managed to get a warrant twice for stalking a couple of young women, and he has two restraining orders on them. One of them said that he had disturbing controlling behavior, one pressed charges against him for sexual harassment that she took back after they reached some settlement and there’s a list of some other five girls or so having reported it for similar – but less worrying – behavior.
Fuck, Robb thinks, why is he even still free?
--
There are no calls that night.
At dawn, Robb drinks another couple of coffees, changes into civilian clothes and drives up in front of the building. Bolton gets out at eight in the morning, but the other man doesn’t. At six in the evening, Robb can’t see straight anymore but he’s sure that he hasn’t set foot out of the house.
He goes back home and sleeps until midnight, when he leaves for his patrol with Brienne.
--
He goes to the building again during the day another couple of times, and the second man never walks out. The first time might have been a chance, but after three? Robb wouldn’t be a decent cop if he dismissed that kind of coincidence. The third time, he stays until Bolton comes back. He gets home around six in the evening.
Robb takes notice of that and tries to decide what he should do.
--
The next night, another neighbor calls them again. Same building, same apartment.
This time, Robb insists that Brienne comes with him.
He lets her handle the conversation. Bolton has another explanation ready for his partner’s black eye, but Robb notices that said partner’s hair is strangely dirty, and there’s a moment in which their eyes lock, and fuck, he’s terrified.
But then he hears Bolton’s smooth voice ask, wasn’t that what happened, dear?
The other man blinks a couple of times, answers that sure, it went exactly like that, and Robb doesn’t like the way Bolton stares at him disapprovingly.
When Bolton closes the door, Brienne turns a pair of wide eyes on him. “That’s not good at all,” she whispers. Robb shakes his head in agreement, and he feels powerless as they leave.
--
The next day, he goes back there. He waits for Bolton to go out, waits for one hour just to be sure and walks inside the building. He flashes the porter his badge and walks up the stairs; when he’s in front of that blasted door, he takes a breath and knocks.
Nothing happens and no one answers.
He keeps on knocking then, for at least ten minutes straight, and then the door opens for maybe an inch. He can see a single dark eye – the light in the house is closed.
“What the fuck do you want?” the person inside hisses.
“I’m the cop from –”
“I know who you are. Go away.”
“I know you haven’t ran into a door or fallen from the stairs,” Robb keeps on.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man replies, too quickly.
“You don’t have to do this,” Robb presses, trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible. “Just tell me the truth and I can –
“He loves me,” the other interrupts him. “He’s good to me,” he whispers then, and Robb knows he won’t get anything out of him like this. Not when he can barely look at him in the face.
“Will you tell me your name at least?”
The man’s eye widens, he murmurs no, no, no and then he slams the door in Robb’s face.
--
When Robb goes downstairs, he can’t help himself. He goes to talk to the porter.
“Listen, can I ask you one thing? It should stay confidential,” he tells. The man shrugs.
“Of course, if I can help you.”
“You know, the person living with Bolton at the fourth floor. Do you happen to know his name?”
The porter thinks about it a moment. “Good question – I don’t remember right now, but he used to get mail when he moved in some six months ago. Hasn’t gotten any for a while, though. Let me think… he had a peculiar name, but I really don’t recall it. The surname though… it was Greysomething. Greyjoy. Yes, I think it was like that.”
“Thank you,” Robb answers. “You’ve been most helpful.”
--
He doesn’t need Jaime Lannister to look that up, at least. For civilians, there’s Google. After two hours of surfing, he has almost surely identified the man. The name should be Theon, from the couple of pictures from archery competitions he has found online – he was some seven or eight years younger, but the face matches well enough. He tries to track down his family, but apparently they all moved to Canada at some point and they don’t like to have contact information available to the public – he knows the names of his father, uncles and sister, but he’ll need to call in some favors in order to contact them. Or possibly to bribe Jaime Lannister. Then again, Theon might be in a consensual relationship as far as they all know.
He sighs and figures he might as well give it a last try.
--
“I told you to go away.”
He wasn’t expecting to get a better welcome.
“Sure, and how are you, Theon?”
He hears a gasp coming from the barely opened door. “Don’t call me like that,” Theon whispers, and his voice is dripping with fear. “Don’t.”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Please, go.”
Robb would really, really like to just kick the door down, but it’s not made of wood. Sadly.
He sighs and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, then blindly puts his hand through the small opening.
“As you want. But that’s my number. Please – just take it.”
“I don’t need your number. He loves me.”
“Either you take it or I’m not leaving.”
A minute later, the piece of paper is snatched from his fingers.
When Robb looks at his hand, he sees that his fingertips are slightly stained with dirt.
He doesn’t like this at all.
--
He can’t sleep on the next day, thinking about how tiny Theon’s voice had sounded when he had said don’t call me like that. He thinks about Bolton’s file – sadistic tendencies, overbearing personality, control freak. He thinks about the nothing he knows about Theon Greyjoy, and he feels sick.
--
And then his phone rings at nine in the morning a couple of days later.
He doesn’t even look at the caller when he answers – the call has just thrown him out of his sleep, and he’s had an exhausting night.
“Yeah?” he manages to ask into the receiver. For a moment, he hears nothing – just heavy breathing, and silence, and suddenly he knows.
“Theon?” he asks, hoping against hope that it’s him.
“Officer Stark?” The reply is strangled, barely audible.
“Yes. Yes, that’s me. What –”
“I think – I can’t – please, come over. Right now.”
And then the call is over.
Well, he thinks, at least my persistence paid off, but it’s not such a great consolation.
--
Robb calls Brienne in a haste as he puts on his clothes and grabs the gun he shouldn’t carry but which he keeps around just in case it’s needed. He tells her that they need to go to Bolton’s, now, and she merely says that she’ll be ready in front of her place.
Robb is grateful that she’s his partner – most of his previous partners would have told him to find someone who’s on duty. Robb breaks a couple of speed limits as he goes to pick her up, and he breaks some more as he drives in front of Bolton’s place. He’s very, very thankful when the porter agrees to give him the spare key he has for that apartment.
“Do you want my gun?” he asks Brienne as they run up the stairs.
She shakes her head. “I don’t need it.”
She’s wearing a bullet vest, which makes her already large chest look even bigger, and Robb knows that she could probably break that fucker’s arm in five seconds at most – she’s better at hand to hand fighting than most people he knows.
“Right. I’ll go get him out, you stay in the front and check if Bolton’s coming back.”
She nods and he puts the key inside the lock.
It opens without a hitch.
--
The first thing he notices is that the air is stale. It smells as if no one has opened the windows in weeks, if not more. He turns on the light, and he just sees a hallway and a door. He opens the door, revealing a living room with only a television, a couch, a table and a couple of chairs, but nothing more than that.
He leaves the room, turning on the light. The air in the hallway is even more stale than it was in the entrance.
“Theon?” he calls out, even if he’s wary of raising his voice. He gets no answer, and so he opens the next door he finds. It’s a bedroom, with a bed big enough for two covered in silk sheets, but there’s no one in there either.
There’s just one door left. Robb tries the handle, but it doesn’t work – it’s locked.
Fuck.
He runs back to the entrance, where Brienne is still keeping watch. “I need you back there,” he hisses. “There’s a door that needs to be kicked open and it’d take me too long.”
Her lips quirk up for a moment before she follows him back to the end of the hallway. She looks at the door, then turns on her side and takes a breath before throwing herself against it. Her shoulder hits the wood and it creaks, and when she moves back and pushes again, the lock gives out.
Robb understands why she keeps on saying that she went into the police also because at least her size would have been useful to something.
And then he hears someone whimpering.
She gives him another nod and goes back to the entrance; Robb walks inside the room. His first reaction is wanting to throw up – there’s a disgusting stench coming from the inside. His hand reaches out for the wall and finds a switch. And when he turns it up he thinks that he might throw up for real. Theon is kneeling on the floor, hands bound behind his back, his back turned to the door, and there’s – oh shit, there’s a makeshift bandage around the ring finger on his left hand. He runs forward, noticing that the floor is really fucking dirty, and kneels next to Theon.
“Hey,” he starts, not trying to touch Theon’s wrists or hands – he knows better than that. “Look at me. It’s okay.”
Theon turns his head towards him, his eyes widening. “You came,” he says, sounding almost awed, and damn, he hasn’t washed in maybe a week. Robb doesn’t know what kind of sick game is this, but he isn’t letting it go on any longer if he has a say.
“Yeah, and now I’m going to unbind your hands and we’re going to a hospital. Don’t try to tell me differently.”
Theon doesn’t, and Robb is quick at taking off the ropes.
And then the bandage falls down.
“Fuck, what did he do to you?” he hisses when he sees that the left ring finger is gone.
Theon shudders and Robb decides that it’s not time for it.
“Never mind. Can you stand?”
Theon bites down on his lip. “I don’t know. I haven’t eaten in three days,” he almost sobs, and Robb figures that the answer’s probably no. He grabs Theon’s right arm as gently as he can, helps him up and walks as quickly as he can towards the entrance.
When Brienne sees the both of them, she goes pale.
“What – what did he –”
“Can you drive us to the nearest hospital?” Robb cuts her short – as if he has an answer.
“Of course,” Brienne answers, holding the door open for them. Robb curses when he realizes that Theon doesn’t even have shoes on, and he can’t waste time searching for a pair.
“Sorry about this,” he huffs before reaching down and putting his arm under Theon’s knees. He’s lighter than someone his size should be, but he doesn’t resist when Robb picks him up. His arm stays around Robb’s shoulder, his head ends up nestled against his neck, hair so dirty it looks wet, and Robb has to swallow bile.
--
He gets into the backseat and Brienne drives away the moment he closes the door, and then she puts on the siren so that she can speed up at her leisure. Theon’s eyes slip open and Robb notices that his lips are cracked – there’s dried blood in the corner.
“Officer?” he croaks, and Robb breathes out in relief. At least he’s coherent enough to recognize him.
“It’s Robb,” he answers, leaning against the car door. Theon’s head is still against his shoulder, and then he looks at his maimed hand and his eyes fill with dread again.
“Hey, hey, it’s fine. You’re out. You did the right thing.”
“No,” he whispers, “he’ll find me – I know he will –”
“He won’t. You called me, and the first thing I’m doing the moment I drop you off is getting a restraining order on him. You’ll be fine. Don’t look at it.”
“I had to thank him,” Theon says, and Robb feels sick. He reaches down, covering the maimed hand with his own, hiding it from sight.
“Don’t think about it,” Robb helplessly suggests as his free hand tangles into Theon’s filthy hair. “It’s over.”
“You came,” Theon says again, still sounding awed, and Robb doesn’t like how it sounds. As if he hadn’t expected anyone to come.
Fuck.
He doesn’t like what this implies at all.
“’Course I did,” he settles on, and he’s grateful that if Brienne notices him holding Theon’s maimed hand until they get to the hospital, she doesn’t mention it.
--
She leaves as soon as they get off the car, saying that she’ll sort the paperwork out and that she’ll let Robb know. And then he finds himself in the waiting room with a dirty shirt, dirty hands and his stomach feeling closed.
He thinks about what Theon said before (I had to thank him), at the dried blood on his hand, at how thin he had looked, at the awe in his voice, and at how strangely convinced he sounded when he said he loves me.
He’s relieved when Brienne calls and says that they have Bolton and that if Robb manages to get a statement from Theon so that they can charge him for real there’s no way he’ll manage to leave jail for a fucking long while.
And then he’s told that he can go see his charge.
--
Theon’s dark eyes and hair are a stark contrast against his pale, still bruised face and all the white he’s wearing.
His eyes widen when Robb comes inside the room.
“You’re still here,” he says.
“What kind of douche do you think I am? Of course. Well, there’s some things we need to discuss, but even if we hadn’t, I’d have still stayed. I can’t wash my hands off that kind of thing, you know.”
“What is it that you need?” Theon whispers, sounding defensive.
Robb grabs a chair and sits next to the bedside.
“My partner arrested him, but in order to keep him in jail I need you to press charges. Otherwise they’ll let him go in some forty-eight hours.”
Theon swallows, looks down at his hand. “Shit,” he whispers. “And how – how would that go?”
“I come here in a couple hours with the paperwork, I write down what you have to say and you sign it. Nothing else.”
Theon swallows, his eyes still staring down at the sheet.
“Or I could have someone bring it here and keep you company,” he adds then. Theon looks at him again, eyes wide, lips tightening.
“You would stay here?”
“Sure I would. By the way, do you want me to get you something to eat that might be better than hospital food?”
Theon looks down at that, then at Robb again, then at his hand.
“Thanks. Just pick anything.”
Robb is about to do it when he realizes that something about that isn’t quite right.
“I don’t know what you like.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Obviously.
“I’ll agree to disagree with you. It matters. In case I end up picking something you don’t like. Or that you can’t eat.”
Theon doesn’t answer him, and Robb doesn’t push it, but he doesn’t even leave. He just waits.
“A tuna sandwich. If they have it,” Theon says eventually, his voice sounding strained.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a few, hopefully. Just that?”
Theon doesn’t answer that either, but Robb figures it was enough – he doesn’t want to know when the guy picked his meal last, but he suspects it’s been a long while.
He feels sick.
--
They have tuna sandwiches in the bar in front of the hospital. Robb buys two, and then sees that they have strawberries with whipped cream to go. He remembers how little Theon had weighed, for someone his size, and he ends up buying the strawberries, too.
When he gets back to the room, Theon seems surprised that he’s actually come.
Jesus.
“Tuna sandwich,” he says handing over the bag. “And – uh. I figured you might like these?”
“You didn’t have to –” Theon starts as he grabs the second bag. And then he looks inside it and his face falls.
“Hey, what happened?” Robb asks, suddenly concerned.
“Nothing – it’s just – I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m allergic.” It doesn’t come out entirely straight, and Robb is starting to worry – he looks as if he’s going to have a panic attack any moment.
“Hey, I’m sorry about that. I had no clue. It was all me – that’s fine. I’ll just eat them instead – no big deal.”
“Oh. It’s not?”
Robb thinks he’d like to strangle Bolton himself.
“Man, it’s not your fault if you can’t eat them. Chill out. Just have the rest and I’ll get the strawberries.”
Theon sends him a strange look that Robb can’t really identify, and then he opts to eat his sandwiches instead. Robb gets a plastic fork and eats the strawberries, but he can barely feel the taste. He glances at Theon once in a while, and he can’t help noticing that if he had a bit more weight on him he’d be ridiculously attractive, and it makes Robb feel guilty because not having gotten laid in months doesn’t mean ogling someone who just – no. He shakes his head and finishes his strawberries, and then he texts Brienne asking if she can bring in the paperwork or send someone to bring it over.
--
Brienne gets there an hour later. During said hour, neither of them has said a thing, but it’s fine – Robb doesn’t think that pushing things would make things better. She hands Robb the paperwork as she glances in worry at the bed and then says she’ll be waiting outside.
“I need you to read these,” he says as he comes closer to the bed. “I – well. Just tell me if that covers it or if there’s something that needs to be changed. If not – then I need you to sign on the last page.”
“Just that?”
“We’re taking care of the rest from that point on.”
Theon takes a breath and takes the papers. He reads through them quickly, obviously skips Brienne’s report (and damn, Robb had forgotten that he should write his own before they hand this in) and then holds out a hand.
“It’s – that covers it. Do you have a pen?”
Robb hands him one that he had in his jacket – Theon signs it and Robb takes it back.
Brienne is, as she had said, waiting outside.
“Listen, about my report –”
Brienne gives him a half-smile before handing him a briefcase. The briefcase where he keeps his office laptop.
“What –”
“I figured that you wouldn’t want to go back to the station to write the report. Just write it here and send Jai – send Lannister an e-mail – he’ll attach it to the file before I deal with the rest.”
“Did I ever tell you that you’re a godsend?”
“If only all men had that opinion of me,” she says as he takes the laptop. “I’ll be going. Do you think you can do it in an hour?”
“Yeah. Sure thing. Thank you again, I –”
“Shut it, Stark. When I picked this job, I didn’t think it was just eight hours each day.”
Then she leaves, and Robb goes back inside the room. Theon is staring at the sandwiches receipt that Robb had left in the bag.
“Do you mind if I – uh, I have to write my report. But it’s going to take twenty minutes.”
Theon looks up at him again, surprise written all over his face. “Why are you even asking?”
Robb doesn’t like where this is heading.
“Well – I don’t know. If you wanted to catch some sleep maybe you wouldn’t appreciate me typing furiously. I’m not going to do it if it bothers you.”
“I – it’s not – of course. Just – it’s fine.”
Robb doesn’t push it and goes to sit at the small table in front of the bed. He pulls the laptop from the bag, searches for the right form and starts typing, trying to keep himself from vomiting as he goes through the morning’s events.
When he’s done, he re-reads it once and then decides that he can’t possibly go through it twice. He sends it to Lannister as agreed and then glances towards Theon again. He’s staring down at his hands and Robb doesn’t like it one bit.
“Do you want me to call someone?” he asks. Theon’s head jerks upwards.
“What?”
“Do you want me to call someone for you? I thought – well, I’m not exactly great company. And you don’t know me. But –”
“No need. There’s no one to call,” Theon replies, and now he sounds so bitter that Robb almost winces at it.
“There isn’t?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t spoken to my family in years. If you call any of them, if you can find a number, they’ll tell you to let me rot in here. And – there aren’t friends.”
Robb is starting to understand a lot of the things he’s heard in the past weeks.
“I’m not even sure if my old apartment would be still – I mean, no, it won’t be free, but when I moved in with him, he said we’d go get my things soon, and we never really did, and I don’t even know if my landlord kept them or not, and I don’t even – what the fuck did I do, I don’t –”
Robb knows the beginning of a panic attack when he sees it and well – he can’t say he hadn’t been expecting it. He stands up and goes to sit on the side of the bed, putting a hand on Theon’s shoulder, careful not to grip too tight.
“Hey. Hey, stop. Take a breath and stop worrying. I’ll try to sort it out, just – don’t even try to regret it, okay? No one deserves that.”
Theon does take a couple of shaky breaths, but he looks so far from fine that Robb wouldn’t be surprised if he started screaming any moment.
“How would I sort it out?” It comes out strangled. “The moment they release me I don’t know where the fuck I should even go and –”
“I said I would. Stop worrying and take another breath.” Theon does, even too readily. “All right. Let it out. Good. Another now.” When he looks a bit better off, Robb moves his hand away from Theon’s shoulder – no need to make him feel crowded. “Now, listen to me, all right? If you give me your old address I can go talk to your landlord. You don’t know if he threw your stuff away. If not, then you’re going to worry about it, but you don’t know yet. About the rest – listen, this stays off the record because I’m not really sure it’d be appropriate, but – my brother and some friends of his run a boarding house. If I talk to him I’m pretty sure he’d find you a room for free for at least for a couple of weeks – it wouldn’t be the first time he makes me that kind of favor, anyway.”
“Why would you even care?” Theon almost shouts at him, and Robb doesn’t like the way he sounds. It’s not that he’s surprised that a complete stranger would give a damn, it’s that he sounds surprised that anyone would in the first place, and Robb can see the difference after years doing his job.
“Do you think that I spent three weeks trying to convince you to get out of there just because it made me feel better with myself? Well, even if it was the case, if I stopped giving a damn about what happens to you now… then it wouldn’t make me feel better. My job is done when I know you’re fine, and you’re obviously not.”
For a moment they stare at each other, and then Theon lets his back drop against the pillow behind him, closing his eyes. He looks exhausted.
“I don’t want to be your charity project.”
Well, that’s better than what he’s heard until now. He can work with that.
“It’s not a question of – of that. I’d have done it for anyone else.” Which – Robb doesn’t know if that’s entirely true or not, but it’s not the time to worry about it. “So, will you tell me where you used to live?”
“You’re a bossy little shit, aren’t you?” Theon mutters, and then he goes pale at once, jerking away from Robb. “I’m – I’m sorry,” he starts, and his voice is barely audible. “I shouldn’t have – you’re just trying to help and I’m saying – fuck, I knew I’d fuck it up, I knew –”
“Stop it. Right there.” Robb has an idea that the comment was just Theon letting down his guard, and Robb is perfectly aware of what that’d mean. “In fact, you’re right. I can be a bossy little shit. Most of my family can testify to it. And do you think that I didn’t hear worse when I was in the academy? Leave it. It’s fine. You didn’t fuck anything up. So, that address?”
Theon tells him, even if he’s still tense all over, and Robb figures that maybe he should just go now and leave him some space.
“Fine. I’ll go check it out. I’ll be back when I’m done.”
“You will?” Theon blurts, and Robb thinks he liked the bossy little shit comments better.
“I will.”
--
For the first time since this entire story started, Robb feels like things might be looking up at least some. Theon’s former landlord, whose name is Davos Seaworth, looks like a thoroughly decent person, invites him in for tea the moment Robb shows up on the doorstep and tells him why he’s there, and the first thing he tells him after Robb explains the situation is that he hadn’t thrown away anything.
“See,” he says, “I had understood that there was something shady going on there, especially when he came to tell me he’d move out. Greyjoy, I mean. He came with – well. His partner. Or former partner, I suppose. And he was the one doing most of the talking. I didn’t like it, but it’s not as if I could say anything, and on the contract he signed, it said he could move out whenever he wanted, so I didn’t protest. But when I saw that no one was coming to take his things, I decided that it was better to keep them in the cellar. They’re there whenever he wants to get them.”
Oh, good. “Thank you,” Robb says as he gets the cup of tea. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. And – I suppose his apartment isn’t still available, right?”
Davos shakes his head. “No. It was a good one and I had others wanting to move in a week later. But – well, there’s another that I rent out. It’s a studio apartment, on the first floor. The person renting it at the moment is moving out in a month. If he wants it, he’s more than welcome to have it. And considering the situation, I suppose I could let him have it for free for a couple of months.”
“That’s – I’m pretty sure that’d be great,” Robb says as he sips his tea. “But – why? Not that I mind, obviously, but –”
“Well, the easy answer should be that he actually was a good tenant. If I hadn’t seen him bring in a good number of girls during the week-ends, I wouldn’t have known. He always paid in time and when he left, the apartment was exactly the way he found it. That’s not a given. The not-easy answer is that from what I’ve seen that kid doesn’t have much experience of people being nice to him as a general rule and I’m not exactly starving. I can deal if he doesn’t pay rent for that long.”
Robb nods and finishes his tea, thinking that at least this part went well.
“Listen, do you mind if I make a call? I need to see if I can find him someplace to stay for the next month. And thank you again.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll be in the next room.”
Robb nods at him and then dials the boarding house’s number.
“The Wall, how can I help you?”
“Sam? It’s Robb.”
“Oh, hi. Do you want me to get Jon? He was fixing the heating in a room upstairs but –”
“No, I don’t need to talk to him specifically for this. Listen, uh, I might have an emergency on my hands.”
“What happened?” Sam asks, sounding concerned – he knows what Robb means by emergency.
“There’s – this person who was – well, in the kind of relationship where your boyfriend is a psycho and cuts off one of your fingers.”
“Well – wow. Fuck. I mean – well –”
“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Anyway, his old landlord might have a room for him in a month, but until then… well. Emergency. Do you think you can spare a room? And since it’s not Jon I’m talking to, if it’s a problem I can pay for it. I mean, he always forbids me to even go there, but –”
“Robb, do you think Jon imposes it on us? We all agreed years ago that if we could help out we would. It’s fine – actually, I think that the room with the broken heating could do. It’s small and no one usually wants it unless they’re here for a couple of days only, so it’s not like we made money from renting it out in the first place. I’ll go get everyone to talk it out and we’re calling you in a few, okay?”
“Yeah. That’s great – thank you. Really, thank you. One day I’ll pay all of you some very fancy dinner.”
“Believe me, it’d be nice not to be the one cooking for once. Right, I’ll let you know.”
Good. Now that Robb is almost sure that the matter is settled, he goes to the living room where Davos is waiting for him.
“I think that worked out. Listen, I was going to grab some of his stuff to bring to the hospital and then over to the new place – can you let me in the cellar?”
“Sure. Just let me know if he takes the offer for the studio apartment so that I know what to do with it.”
“Of course.”
He goes through a couple of boxes while Davos stays outside the cellar door – he grabs some random clothes, enough to fill a duffel bag that he had found in the first box and avoids looking in a third box obviously full to the brink of personal effects. He isn’t sure that Theon would appreciate him rummaging through that kind of stuff. When he’s done, he thanks Davos again and leaves – after throwing the bag in the trunk, he realizes that under his jacket his shirt is still stained with dried blood and dirt and dust, and he drops home for a minute so that at least he can wash his face and get changed into clean clothes. When he’s done, it’s been two hours since he left the hospital. And then his phone rings.
“Robb?”
“Jon? Did Sam tell you?”
“Yeah. And of course it’s fine – that room hasn’t been used in ages, anyway. And the heating works, now. Just tell me when we need to expect him and if – well, if we need to be ready for anything. Also, forget about paying me.”
Robb can’t help smiling as he gets behind the wheel of his car. “Well then, fine. Thanks. I owe you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Before driving back to the hospital, he stops at the first pizza place he sees on the road and grabs some of it to go. When he arrives, he flashes his badge and he’s let in – he knocks before getting inside, just to be extra sure that he doesn’t end up startling Theon or anything.
Theon isn’t startled, but he obviously wasn’t expecting him. Robb ignores it.
“So,” he says, without giving him the chance to ask questions that would make Robb want to smash a wall, “your landlord kept everything – you have about five boxes waiting for you in his cellar. And he says that he also rents a studio apartment that will be free in a month, and he’s willing to rent it to you with two free months thrown in.”
“What? Why – I mean, that’s –”
“He says you were a good tenant and it won’t kill him to make you a favor. That said, my brother has a room that no one ever rents available, and since if I ask him he doesn’t want to hear about money, you have a place until you can move in at your landlord’s. Oh, and I brought you something to eat.”
He hands over the pizza box – Theon looks completely dumbfounded as he takes it.
“There are some clothes in that bag, also. And stop wondering why I’m doing this.”
“How do you even know?”
“It’s written all over your face. See, nothing to worry about on that front.”
Theon stares down at the food inside the box – he looks like he’s about to cry.
Maybe it’s a good thing that Brienne calls him then. “I have to take it,” Robb says as he stands up. Theon gives him a small nod and Robb gets out of the room, answering the call.
“Brienne?”
“I’d just thought I’d let you know that Bolton isn’t getting out anytime soon. It was incredibly satisfying to tell him he wasn’t going back home for a while. Anyway, I don’t know how long they’re going to keep him in – I hope a while – but in case he gets out before the trial or if someone bails him out, I have a restraining order on him.”
“Oh. Good to know. Were there any problems?”
“No, but J – Lannister says that you need to proof-read your reports before sending them over.”
Robb has to laugh a little at that. Mostly at how she’s trying not to use his first name.
“Tell him that if he corrects a few typos here and there instead of beating his own Spider record on the station’s computer no one is going to care. That’s fine. Listen, I found him a room at my brother’s place – if you need to put some contact information on the file just write their number.”
“All right. How is he doing?”
“Not that great, but he could do worse. Listen, thanks again. At what time do you need me to get there?”
“Stark, everyone thinks that after the last month you can take two days off. Go get some sleep, I’m going to find someone to cover for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, I’d know. Thank you.”
Well, he can’t help relishing the idea of going home and getting some sleep. He can’t remember the last time he had eight hours straight. Also, visiting hours have been over for a while, and he’s not sure of how long they’re going to let him stay – he’s sure he’s not been thrown out until now just because he has a police badge.
He knocks before walking inside the room again – Theon was eating the pizza, but he stops at once the moment he comes in.
“By all means, keep on,” Robb says, aiming for nonchalant, while he glances around the room to see if he has left anything of his. There isn’t.
“So, my colleague arrested him.” He doesn’t need to specify – the way Theon’s eyes go wide in relief, it was a given. “She also has a restraining order on him in case someone bails him out. I don’t know how long they’re going to keep you here but I’ll ask so that I can tell Jon when they should get the room ready. Now, I’m going home to catch some sleep.” Then he takes out his wallet and grabs another card from it. “But, if you need anything before I drop by tomorrow, call.” He slams the card into Theon’s hand. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have the other one anymore.”
“I didn’t – I memorized the number before throwing it away,” Theon mutters before taking the card anyway, and Robb feels sick all over again. “And – what, you’re coming?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. See you tomorrow.”
Theon gives him a small nod before staring down at his food again and Robb leaves the room before he starts crying. He almost slams into a doctor coming the opposite way and when he apologizes he recognizes the person who was on duty this morning.
“Officer Stark, right?” he asks.
“Yes. Doctor – Ryder? Sorry about that. I didn’t see you at all.”
“None taken. I can’t fault someone who has probably slept five hours in the last two days.”
“How do you –”
“I do the same thing often enough to recognize the symptoms. Listen, I was going to talk to our man in there, but – since he had no emergency contact listed and no one has been able to track down a relative, I guess I could tell you, as well? If you’re still handling the case.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.”
“Well, physically he could be worse off. He needs to put on some weight, possibly sooner rather than later, but whatever was going on hadn’t been in the realm of malnourishment yet. And the finger – well, other than the obvious, at last it was a clean cut and it didn’t get infected even if there was a risk. Everything else was superficial wounds – nothing that won’t heal in a month. I ran some blood tests just to make sure that he hasn’t caught anything else, but other than that he could go home the day after tomorrow as far as I’m concerned. For the rest – I’m sending a psychiatrist to have a talk to him tomorrow, I figured that today it would have been too much, but from what I saw he’ll probably need one when he’s out of here.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Robb answers – who wouldn’t need a psychiatrist after that?
“And – does he have some place to stay? I suppose I can release him a couple of days after what I originally said, but –”
“I have that covered, don’t worry.”
Dr. Rayder stares at him for a moment, then gives him a curt nod.
“Well, good for him. Now, if I were you, I’d go get some sleep. You look like you’re going to fall over any moment.”
Robb takes the advice. He forces himself to stay up until he gets home and he drives slower than usual. The moment he lays down on the bed, he’s out cold.
--
The following morning, he wakes up at noon. He figures that for once he can excuse himself, and after getting himself two cups of coffee he calls Jon and tells him to get the room ready. He doesn’t call Brienne because he knows she’ll be catching up on sleep as well. Then he takes a long shower and goes to the bar in front of his apartment where he eats three muffins – then he feels like a functional human being again.
He’s debating whether he should buy some to go when his phone rings – it’s an unknown number.
“Stark, who’s there?”
“Uh, officer?”
“Theon?”
“You – you said I could call? If you’re busy –”
“I have two free days, ‘course I’m not. What’s going on?”
“Listen, I – I don’t think I can stay holed up here another day. It’s a long story but – they said that I could go if I really felt like it and –”
“You signed for getting out early and you need a ride, don’t you?”
“… yes. I’d have taken the bus, really, but I don’t know where your brother’s place is and –”
“That’s fine, I can pick you up in half an hour. Stop fretting, it’s okay.”
Robb wonders if he did talk to the psychiatrist after all, but that’s not his business. He buys two muffins to go and goes back to his car.
He thinks he’ll need a lot more persistence to see this through than what it took to get Theon to call him, but it’s fine.
He does have all the time in the world, after all, and – sad as it sounds – Theon has it, too, most likely. He tries to take it as a positive thing, and he starts driving.
TBC
