caught in the ropes and the wires

She wasn't a patient; she hadn't made an appointment, strictly speaking, and didn't intend for this to be a routine occurrence. Truth be told, Sansa still didn't quite understand the practice of talking to someone as people did to Dr. Fell, though she was sure he must have been good at it, having been a friend to her. Perhaps it was that the world she'd lived in before arriving here was one purely of secrets, of distrust and walls built high to keep people at bay. Perhaps it was simply that therapy was unheard of in her own land. Either way, she didn't think that was a step she needed to take in order to speak with someone she cared about, whom she'd never known in a professional capacity, regardless of what had brought her here.

It wasn't as if it was necessary, either. This was far from the first loss she had lived through, and it certainly wasn't the most difficult. It wasn't even the first time she had been a witness, even if she had to wonder now if it was fortunate that her father's death had been so swift rather than slow and agonizing. But she was nearly as alone here as she'd been in King's Landing, her family gone, and when so many people she'd known had been killed — her own family and more — it wasn't an easy thing to bear. She still saw blood behind her eyelids when she shut her eyes. The nightmares she had so frequently about her family had gotten worse. Maybe here, she wouldn't have to be so utterly alone with it.

She'd arranged, then, which seemed to be a good way of putting it — hadn't run over in a panic, some distraught child, but been calm and collected about it, as she had grown so practiced at doing — to go to Dr. Fell's. If there was anyone whom she could talk to about this, Sansa thought it was him. Haunted or not, though, she put on a smile, a bit warmer than one worn out of just courtesy. "It's good to see you."