Trigger warnings: Domestic abuse, Transphobia (implied), Sexual Assault (mentioned), Mental Health problems (Anxiety)

‘I’m sorry’ the word reverberates in her mind, bouncing across each crevice, Her fingers weave through each other like a basket becoming an intricate dance. 

The soft roars of the Airplane engine rocks her seat, her body lurching forward as the machine slides down the runway. She stares ahead toward the ceiling of the plane. As the screen illuminates her face, the faint voices of the educational video flow through her ears. ‘It’s just a simple sentence; it's so easy to say. You mean it, you should mean it.’ Her mind berates. ‘It's not that hard to say.’

“Sorry.” 

The word yanks her back to the present, the dim light of the airplane causing her to blink. As the plane jolts softly with take-off, she gets a sudden dull pain in her shoulder.” ‘Oh, they must have hit my shoulder with something.’ She realizes, pushing some blonde hair out of the way so she can properly buckle. “It’s okay.” She mutters, rubbing her shoulder.

“Are you sure, doll? Getting whacked with a cane would hurt, I’d assume.” She gets a better read on the voice, a soft mid-soprano with a twinge of trans-Atlantic accent.

“I am- I mean I’m fine, promise.” She mutters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking today, May 5th at 2:45 pm CST we are on our way to Las Vegas, Nevada from St.Louis Missouri, thank you very much.” 

She sighs as the seatbelt sign turns on, her foot shaking rapidly. She glances over, noticing the woman with a cane, the soft wrinkles on her face and some clear laugh-lines on the corner of her eyes.

“I’m Dorothy.” The lady smiles, holding her hand out for a

“You sound like her,” she says, shaking the hand Her shoulders tense. ‘You sound like her? Really!? AGH, I should tell her my name! Damn it, I'm so rude!’  

“Um, I am I mean- I’m Sansa.” She mutters softly, biting her thumb and eyes looking down at her polka-dotted blouse. 

“Nice to meet ya’ Sansa? That is a strange name.” Dorothy pauses as if to find the right words. “Did you choose it?” 

“Did I-” Sansa pauses as the words register with her. “No, no, my parents, uh, did. They are huge fans of the ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ saga.” Sansa chuckles weakly over the silence.

“What’s that?” Dorothy inquires, eyes filled with a bit of curiosity. 

“Uh…” Sansa hesitates for a minute. “A book series.” Her leg bounces quickly. ‘Man, I wish I could get up and leave. Maybe the plane will crash. It'd be better than this.’ Her eyes flicker to the seatbelt sign. “It’s also a show, um, ‘Game of Thrones’ ?”  

“Ah! Is the character cool?” Dorothy gives a soft hum nodding. Her eyes show a small part of understanding and genuine curiosity. 

“Ya!...um ya, from what I’ve heard, she has a dire wolf and can wield a sword.” Sansa stutters, moving some blonde hair from her face.

“Whi-which is like a really big wolf.”

“That sounds scary.” Dorthy mutters, eyes wide in possible exaggerated shock.

“Uh, ya. I guess.” She mutters eyes falling into a small haze.

Dorothy clicks her tongue cursing Sansa to retreat within herself a bit. The mutterings of the plane fill the silence. Dorothy look up towards the buckle signs now signifying the two can get up. Her eye moves back to Sansa whose eyes blankly look out the window.

“Do you know how to?” 

Sansa’s head whips to look at Dorothy , her eyes slightly red. “Huh? Do I know…How to?? Wha! Oh! Sword fight?!”She lets out a broken chuckle. “I wish I did.” She lowers her head and tilts it towards the window her voice quieting barley above her breath. “Maybe I’d be safe?” Sansa Shakes her head and smiles just a bit too wide. 

“Safe?” Dorothy asks softly, her eyes lowered as she examines her face. 

“So, uh, why are you going to Vegas?”Sansa lets off a light laugh with the question. 

Dorthy now shrinks in on herself, her eyes glancing at her legs as her shoulders tense. “My Son- I mean daughter, Jessica.” The corners of her lips lift slightly, a soft smile making home perfectly on her face. 

Sansa's eyes scan over Dorothy. Her head tilts slightly as her eyes widen, a slight lift in her posture as she aligns herself with her seat. “Oh. Are you two close?”

Dorthy clenches the edge of her plaid skirt, her chest rises with a shake, eyes darting to the aisle. “We…were. I-” She sighs. “I was wrong. I…

“It’s uh…It’s hard to see her that way, you know? I raised her to not…be…That. But I don’t know. I used to blame the internet and ev-verything. Looking back. It was always there.” She sighs tears slowly falling down her face. “It wasn't big things, you know- know she likes wearing jeans and tee shirts, her hair was always short but…It was a bob or a pixie. I called her a- a um a handsome boy when she was younger, and she said. ‘No, Mommy, I’m a pretty princess and want to run in the rain.” Dorothy laughs with a wide smile on her face before it falls. ‘I should have listened.”

“Not- uh, not to pry, uh but what happened?” Sansa leans forward slowly. 

“She told me who she was. he…Uh.” Dorthy pauses with a shaky breath. “She came to my husbandmeI, and uh and.” A broken sob escaped her lips. “She introduced us to herself. Wearing a beautiful French braid.” Dorothy smiles as a teardrop lands on her parted bottom lip. “And she told us she was her-you-you know? That she’s always been her. Jessica, not Nate, not our son that we’ve always had a daughter.”She shakes, glancing quickly towards Sansa. “I-we-I didn’t react well. I made her leave. When she, u,h when she was, u,h introducing me to my wonderful daughter. I hurt her.” Dorothy doubles over as the sob rips its way through her body.

Sansa tries to reach out but pulls her hand back, her leg shaking unsure what to do. “l-I love her, I need to -to make this right.” 

“Do-do.” Sansa reaches out a hand shaking her heart yearning to give Dorothy a hug, she pulls her hands back clenching them at her side. “Do you love her as your daughter?”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, broken; her lips tremble with another wave of pain. 

“Okay, Okay I mean I don’t know you that well. But I can tell how much you-,uh you love her as a young woman and not her as a son. I think she’ll see you too.” Sansa gently taps her shoulder giving her a side hug. 

“Dinner?” A stewardess smiles with the cart.

“Mac and cheese?” Sansa asks, “And a root beer, please?”

“Of Course.”The stewardess hands her the food. “Adnf or you?”

“Can I have the chicken?" Dorothy whispers, wiping away a few tears. The next half-hour passes in silence other than the sound of fellow passengers eating and talking. 

“Darling? Why are you heading to Vegas?” Dorothy breaks the silence.

“Oh! Um.” Sansa blushes softly, sipping her drink. “My husband, he’s there for a work trip.” 

“Oh, and you're going to surprise him?” Dorothy asks softly.

“Uh…um ya, we got into a fight. It ended badly, and he left. So I wanted to make sure we are good.” Sansa’s shoulders rise as her eyes regain the ‘off-world’ look from the beginning of the flight as she looks out the window. 

“Not to push, but what was the fight about?” Dorothy leans over voice soft, eyes narrowing low. 

“Uh, well, I, um, went to a bar with James, he’s a good friend, and um, he got drunk and kissed me, um, a Jackson, my husband saw and um, he, I mean I should have pushed James off faster and I.” She shakes. “And Jack got mad and, um he told me I should-I should have been more careful and that I shouldn’t have let Jack kiss me. Um, he, uh.” Sansa grabs her upper arm softly and sighs, looking at the plane floor, tears burning like acid in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m getting emotional. He uh. He grabbed me harshly and took me home… um, and uh I apologized, I think I didn’t mean, and he knew. Of course, he knew I didn’t mean it or- or else he wouldn’t have gotten madder and yel- yelling. He- fuck when we got home he got a drink and um I was still apologizing he told me to shut up and.” Sansa freezes her breath. Her hands squeezes her arm tight as the roar of the plane engine floods her ears. “He hit me…he was mad and drunk and he-didn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it. I mean, I slept on the couch and he left for Vegas this morning, and I need to apologize. I really am sor-”

“Stop, he darling,” Dorothy sighs, causing Sansa to look directly at her. “He messed up; he needs to apologize. So does James; they both hurt you, doll. You don't need to apologize.”

“He didn't; they didn’t. I mean, they don’t wanna hurt me.” Sansa stutters. 

“No doll. They need to apologize to you. He hit you, has it, has the yellen' and the hitting happened before?” Dorothy asks gently, placing a hand on Sansa.

Sansa nods, sniffling. “Yes.” Her voice breaks into glass shards. “I still feel bad like I need to apologize and mean it.”

“Darling.” The seatbelt sign beeps, cutting Dorothy off.

“This is your captain speaking. It is currently 6 p.m. PDT in the city of sin. Thank you for being such a lovely group!”

Dorothy looks at Sansa's red-rimmed eyes squeezing the younger woman’s hand Dorothy smiles. “You don’t need to apologize because it’s not about meaning the apology its about what happened, and what happened is you were hurt by two men. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“I was in the wrong.” Sansa shakes, her voice warbling like a bird. 

“No, honey, I know what it’s like to be in the wrong. The guilt you feel is trained; it's what he wants you to feel.” Dorothy lets go of her hand. “You can mean the guilt and be in the right and not have to apologize because you were hurt. I was in the wrong and didn’t apologize because people don’t want to apologize for being wrong. That’s why it’s called being the bigger person.”

“Do you believe you were right to kick her out?” Sansa whispers, licking the tears off her lips. 

“I did,” Dorothy mutters, the air pressure slowly forces a headache upon Sansa redoubled by the tear streaming down her face and the clench of questioning upon her heart.