"You are Alayne, and you must be Alayne all the time.  Even here.  In your heart.  Can you do that?" he asks and she nods.  What else can she do but agree, trapped as she is?

"You’re name’s not Alayne!” someone shouts but it’s hazy. It’s a familiar voice perhaps. Or is it a stranger’s?

I am Alayne. Who else would I be?

Her name had been the first thing she’d learned…somewhere.

**

Red lights. Blue lights. The first things she sees after the darkness. The mangled automobile surrounds her. Sirens and the voices of first responders are near but foggy. Is she dreaming? No.

There’s a gruff voice by her ear but his touch is careful. “What’s your name, miss?”

She opens her eyes slowly again to find blue eyes looking back at her. Blue eyes, black hair, ruggedly handsome.

“Alayne,” she murmurs. “I am Alayne.”

His head tilts to the side, studying her. “I’m Gendry, Alayne. I’m going to get you out of this mess.”

She smiles feebly. She wants to thank him but she slips into darkness again.

**

Bright white lights. They’re so glaring, so unpleasant. As unpleasant as the squeal of the gurney’s wheels and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes while strangers shout things about their patient, the Caucasian female, 20s. She’s a race, a sex and a vague guess at her age to them…along with the list of her injuries. They’re focused on that.

“What’s your name, honey?” a nurse asks with kind eyes like molten chocolate and curly black hair.

“Alayne. My name is Alayne.”

“You got parents? Siblings? A boyfriend maybe?”

“There’s…there’s someone.”

Their faces float in front of her but she doesn’t know them. Who are they? Who am I?

Another face is there, solemn but handsome, dark curly hair and grey eyes. Who is he?

“Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find them,” the older woman says, squeezing her hand.

She wants to say more, ask questions of her own but she has an IV now and someone’s just given her a sedative. She drifts.

**

Dim yellow lights. The soft, repetitive sound of monitors break the silence.  It’s peaceful even though there’s no peace. He’s here. Somehow, she knew he’d come though she’s not sure how she knew it.

He’s so distressed and it makes her sad. She knows she should be, too. It’s just all so disconnected and strange. There’s odd images floating around, childhood memories that aren’t hers. Or are they?

“You were driving home from the market. You’d said you wanted to make a lemon cake since we were celebrating.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why, sweetheart. These things happen. The police are investigating the crash. The other driver took off and…”

“No, I mean, why were we celebrating? Who are you?”

That’s when he’d realized something else was wrong, something the trauma team had missed.

The doctor’s low voice is telling him about her head injury. She remembers some things but most of it’s hazy and some of it seems like a dream.

Jon. He’s Jon and he’s supposed to be her fiancé. He is her fiancé but she doesn’t remember him.

They cry together quietly after the doctor leaves. He’s gentle, so sweet and kind. He assures her they’ll work through this. He loves her very much and she must love him, too. In time, she’ll remember.

**

Sunset washes the world in pink and gold. They’re home and he’s brought her out to her flower garden.

“You enjoy being out here more than just about anything, I think.”

“I do?” He winces and she wishes she could reassure him. “It’s lovely.”

“When we first moved here after…” He’s grimacing now and she knows he’s deciding whether or not to share something unpleasant with her.

“Tell me,” she said, soft but firm. She wants to know. They’re going to rebuild the memories she’s lost. She’ll remember in time. The doctors are hopeful but no one is more hopeful than Jon. She wants to share his optimism.

“I took you from your father’s house. You were not happy there. He kept you…locked away.”

“Locked away?” A flash of memory, green-grey eyes and mint on his breath. It makes her flesh creep.

“He was not a good man, Alayne.”

Fear, isolation and something else lingers in the corners of her mind when she thinks of him. Petyr. The name of her father sounds queer to her but Jon says that’s his name same as her name is Alayne. ‘You must remember your name, Alayne.’

“What happened to him?”

“He died.”

He bites out those two words and something in his tone makes her hesitant to ask more about it.

“How did you know him? How did we meet?”

“I was…” He scrubs at the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “I worked as a landscaper on his estate. I tended the lawn and we met one day.” He starts to blush. “You leaned out your window. You told me I’d kill your blue roses watering them too much. We…we hit it off.”

She smiles when this flash comes to her. They’d quarreled but only briefly. The quarreling had quickly turned into flirting. “I remember,” she sighs.

“You do?” She nods and he’s pleased. “When I’d come near the house, I’d look up towards your window and you’d come stand there. If no one was loitering about, I’d wave. If no one was around inside, you’d open the window and we’d talk.”

And we fell in love.

“You love our garden,” Jon explains, carefully taking her hand in his. “You said you liked being outside as much as possible after…after being there.”

It feels good having her hands in the soil again, tending her flowers. She spends hours in her garden until it’s time to go inside and eat dinner with Jon. Jon, who loves her and took her away from Petyr’s house.

**

Sunrise, golden through the sheer curtains hanging in their room. It spills onto her pillow as her messy hair fans out around her like a halo. His fingers slip through it.

“You like my hair.”

“I do.”

“It was brown once, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, you were dying it when we met. I don’t know why. Your natural shade is so beautiful.”

His grey eyes are lit by the sunshine filtering in.  She can see flecks of violet in them as he leans towards her for a kiss and then another. His arms are warm and strong.

“If you don’t want to...”

“I want to,” she tells him.

She curls one leg around his thigh and sinks her fingers into his dark hair as he moves within her. Their soft moans and heavy breathing fill the quiet bedroom as birds chirp outside in her flower garden.

He loves her and she loves him. She’s remembering bits and pieces. She’ll remember all of it soon.

But this morning, she’d woke up remembering something else, how much she loved the way this felt with Jon.

**

Christmas lights. Bright and cheerful music which Jon claims he hates. He still smiles when she sings along to her favorites. It’s funny how she knows them by heart. Some things never left at all, she supposes.

Their hands are clasped as they make their way into the store to shop. Green and red decorations everywhere but that’s not what they’re shopping for. Petal pink and soft whites. Maybe some yellow.

She loses Jon around the stuffed animals, giggling at him wanting to buy a bear nearly as big as they are. “What will a baby do with that?” she teases.

“Mr. Bear will watch over her for me while she naps,” he says in a tone so serious she only laughs more fully.

She heads towards the cribs, telling him to catch up. She spies a little lamp with a cow jumping over the moon on the shade. She remembers that nursery rhyme. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to tell their child about her own childhood.

“Sansa?”

She turns though she doesn’t know why. That is not her name.

There’s a young woman, pregnant like her, standing behind her with a young man. He’s got black hair and blue eyes. He’s familiar.

“It’s her. That wreck…I told you about the girl we pulled from the vehicle and how she favored your sister,” he’s saying to the young woman. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” he says to her next.

“I’m sorry?”

She feels Jon join her. His arms wrapping protectively around her waist. “Who’s this, sweetheart?”

I wish I knew. “Do I know you?”

“Sansa,” the young woman says again and her grey eyes fill with tears. Her hair is dark like Jon’s and she’s familiar, even more familiar than the young paramedic named Gendry.

“My name is Alayne.” But for the first time, she’s not so sure. ‘You must remember your name, Alayne.’

“We’ve looked so long, so many years. I can’t believe I’d find you here.”

“Looked for me?”

“After Baelish abducted you, we feared we’d never find you again. And then when he wound up murdered, we hoped you’d come home to us…if you were still…alive.”

“Murdered?”

She feels Jon stiffen and suddenly remembers. Petyr choking on his own blood and Jon grasping her hand. “I’ll take you away from here. I’ll protect you, I promise. No one will ever know. We’ll move far away.”

“Why didn’t you come home, Sansa?"

"I'm not..."

"You're Sansa.  Don't you know your own name?"

"I know my name.  It's..."

"It’s been two years since he died. Mother’s been mad with grief. We all have.”

“I’m…my name is Alayne.”

“Your name’s not Alayne!” She’s so loud. She stamps her foot like a child having a tantrum. Tears stream down her cheeks. “Don’t you remember me at all?”

Shoppers nearby stop their milling about and stare at them. Her own cheeks are burning with various emotions, humiliation and frustration.

But she remembers this young woman. She remembers her as a girl.

Sometimes, they would laugh but sometimes, they’d get angry with each other, a storm of hurtful words and bad feelings until one would beg the other’s pardon and they would hug and…

“Arya?”