Chapter 1: Getting to know a stranger.
Soft pink and orange light from the early morning sun began to filter in through her window which started to pull her from her dreams. With bleary eyes, she looked around her room tiredly and noticed a slight pang in the front of her mind. She was hungover but not to the point that it felt like her head was being smashed open with a hammer. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand she saw the time read 5:43 AM, she almost began to panic at the time thinking that she'd be late to work but promptly remembered that it was her day off. With that pleasant reminder in mind, she began to snuggle deeper into her covers when she noticed something big and warm directly behind her, causing her stomach to drop in dread. She slowly turned her body around with panic rising in her slightly hungover mind, which is when she saw him. His back was faced towards her so she couldn't make out his face but she could see the large scars that littered his back and shoulders. His long hair was mussed by sleep and possibly from last night's events- which were slowly coming back to her- and the faint image of stubble covered the side of his face that she could see.
Shit, seven hells. Embarrassed, the girl began to slide out of her bed trying her best not to disturb the man next to her. As soon as she began to lift her covers, she could feel the cold air of her room hit her naked flesh. She tiptoed to the opposite side of her room to retrieve her underwear and put it on when she heard shifting under the covers of her mattress. Peering over her shoulder, she could see the raven-haired man stare at her with both a bleary eye and a burned one. His face was terrifying to look at, but she wasn't scared. After all, she's seen way worse in her line of work.
With a sheepish smile, she turned her entire form around to look at him properly. "Hi," she squeaked. She could feel the heat of her blush rise in her cheeks and made a move to grab her shirt from the night before that laid on her floor just a foot away from the edge of the queen-sized bed.
"'Morning," he rasped out. He looked up and down her body as if examining for imperfections. She felt uncomfortable under his stare; she was no spectacular beauty. She was a short and plump thing with wide hips and large breasts which any man would desire, but she did have a small gut that she tended to suck in to make herself more pleasing to the eye for those around her. A faint but noticeable scar lay across the lower half of her abdomen, she prayed to the old gods and new that he hadn't noticed them last night or this morning as she placed the shirt over her head. Her face was slightly rounded with sandy blonde hair to frame it. Eyes of ice stared right into stormy grey, taking in his appearance as well. He wasn't an eyesore, even with half of his face and scalp covered in scar tissue, his torso was much like his back, covered in scars, but had a dusting of black hair.
"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to look at something so hideous this early in the morning." The man began to pull the covers off of him, and his nakedness surprised her. With a short yelp, she once again turned her body around to give him some privacy.
Feeling a sense of hurt by his degrading comment about himself she managed to quietly say, "You're not hideous, I was just getting a better look at you. Your scars? I've seen worse."
"Doubt it," he snorted.
"I'm a nurse that works both in the burns unit. Trust me; I've seen worse." She deadpanned. She turned back around just in time to see him give her a curious look, still sitting on the edge of the bed, this time with a pair of boxers on.
"What's your name again?"
"Jane Waters, you?"
"Sandor Clegane."
She smiled at that; his name was just as strong as he appeared to be.
"Well Sandor," she tried his name, "got anywhere you need to be this early?" she asked with a smirk.
"To be honest, no. Why?" and at that very moment, the blonde woman heard the telltale signs of hunger emit from the man's side of the room. With a small motion of her hand she beckoned him to follow her out of her beloved bedroom, to her delight, he followed closely.
She led him to her small apartment kitchen where she immediately began to rifle through the cabinets for her skillet and spatula.
"You like eggs?"
"Yea I do, but you don't have to go to the trouble." He seemed a little put off by her kindness which in turn stung her. She had never done something like this before, and she didn't want to make a habit out of it but she was a kind woman, and after the short conversation in her bedroom, she doubted that Sandor had much experience with the kindness of others. With skillet in hand, she turned the stove top on, placing the piece of iron on steadily warming coils. As the pan began to heat up slowly, Jane made her way to the refrigerator. After grabbing eggs and bacon, she returned to the still heating up the stove, only to discard the items onto the counter next to it.
"How do you like your eggs?" she questioned.
"Surprise me; I'm not picky." She only chuckled at that and began to do as she wished. Jane started to pull a bag of white bread from her cabinets. With the pan finally being hot enough, Jane turned down the temperature some so as not to burn anything.
"While I make this, you can use my shower to clean yourself up. Would hate for you to smell like sex and sweat all day in front of peers or friends," she smiled at her bold statement. Behind her, she could hear Sandor take a few steps, and suddenly she felt his presence stand right behind her. The blonde could feel her body heat up in anticipation of his next move. Big arms encircled her waist, and a head tucked into the crook of her neck. Jane felt soft yet coarse lips press into her exposed flesh. The feel of his stubble scratching her sent shivers down her spine.
"Why haven't you kicked me out yet?" his deep voice was muffled against her neck as he spoke those despondent words.
"I've never allowed a man I've only just met in a bar get into my pants. Whatever you did to get me to be all hot and bothered by you means that I like you enough actually to touch me. Which I will tell you now, I don't usually let anyone get that close. I haven't kicked you out because I thought it'd be nice to have someone to share a meal with for once. A girl like me tends to get lonely." Jane paused just long enough to let her words not only sink in for him but her as well. They had only just met, but she already felt comfortable enough to let him hold her the way he was now. It had been years since the last time someone had just wrapped their arms around her, and she quite honestly thought that it would never happen again.
"So, my bathroom is just outside my bedroom. Towels are in the cabinets under the sink, as well as the wash rags. Go get cleaned up and then we will eat." He held on just a second longer before slowly unwrapping himself from her.
"Are you saying that I stink?" he gave her a smirk and she couldn't help but smirk back at the raven-haired mystery.
"Yes I am, now go. Before you stink up my kitchen."
Sandor barked out a hearty laugh before exiting the room. Jane just watched his retreating form, admiring his strong back and the way the larger scars seemed to dance as he moved. She eventually snapped out of her gawking and returned to the task at hand. Breakfast. As she moved about the tiny apartment kitchen preparing the little meal she could hear in the short distance the sound of the faucet being turned on.
By the time Sandor had finished his quick shower, breakfast was sitting on the table. Two plates contained a small pile of bacon on one and four pieces of toast with eggs cooked in the center of them. Jane had pulled out two tall glasses and a jug of orange juice for them to wash her cooking down.
After pulling out the chair in front of himself and promptly plopping down into it, Sandor began to eat the still steaming food. The pair ate in relative silence, it wasn't all that uncomfortable, but Jane thought that they should at least say something about last night. It wasn't until he had finished his second egg in a basket that he began to say anything.
"Can we talk about something?"
"Uh, sure. What do you want to know?"
There was a pregnant pause as he mulled over his next choice in words with care. "Where did you get those scars on your stomach?" That had her choking on the bite of bacon she took during his break in thoughts. So he had noticed them, they were stretch marks from years ago that much was obvious, but he must have been talking about the one that lay horizontally just above her pelvis.
"It's not something I like to speak about. If you tell me how you got these," she placed a tentative hand on the scared part of his face and then the largest one that lay diagonally across his chest before dropping it back to her side, "then I'll tell you if that's what you want to talk about." Once again there was a drawn-out pause. Jane hoped that he would just drop it, and go back to eating in an almost comfortable silence.
"Fair enough, which one do you want to know first?" his face was emotionless as he said this. She couldn't help but cringe a little at the fact that this was truly what he wanted to talk about.
"The ones on your chest and back."
With his large hand, he clasped her small one and placed it over the biggest one again. She analyzed how it felt under her fingertips. "I'm a bodyguard for a little golden-haired cunt that likes to run his mouth. Thanks to said mouth I've had my fair share of fights with men that thought they were a better fighter than me. This one," he pressed her hand closer to his marred flesh, "was a close call for me. The knife the bastard had was like a short sword, and he managed to slice me open like a prime steak before I… managed to send him to the hospital in a stretcher." Jane's eyes widened at that. She knew he was strong but not violent. However, she couldn't fault him for acting as such since it was his job and self-defense. That explanation began the long list of others that told the tale of Sandor "The Hound" Clegane's many battles and victories. They each took breaks in between his stories to eat the quickly cooling food that still sat in front of them. When he finally finished, Jane was astonished by how he had managed to ever come out of any of those fights with shallow wounds that left only faint scars.
"I feel like I've just gone through some kind of history lesson," Jane deadpanned. Sandor laughed heartily at her remark and responded with a simple "Aye" in agreement. Her curiosity grew a little for the next tale that was going to be told. "How did you come by the scar on your face?" It was a simple question with a not so simple answer. It was the only story that Sandor was ashamed of.
With a deep breath he began, "My older brother, who enjoys seeing and dealing pain to others, pushed my face into the coals of a dying fire." Jane couldn't believe her ears, why would he do such a thing? She thought angrily. "I was maybe six or seven when he found me playing with a toy horse, one he didn't even like," he continued. "His logic at the time was that I touched something that belonged to him and I was to be punished. He grabbed me by my hair and dragged my body over to the fireplace, shoving my face into the burning logs." Jane didn't know what to do; she suddenly had the urge to hug this man as if it was some reassurance that he would be alright. However, she simply took his large hands into her small ones and simply stared into his grey ones.
"What happened after?"
"My father called the authorities and had him locked up until he turned eighteen. After that, he was sent free only to end back up in the slammer for raping and killing three underage girls. Sometimes I wish that the death penalty was applied for the Westerlands." His voice was shaking in rage; he wasn't looking at Jane as he spoke those last few words. Sandor's eyes grew distant and filled with a murderous look, one that began to frighten Jane to the very core.
"Hey, look at me," she squeezed his hands to help draw his attention. Sandor slowly began to focus his eyes back onto her, and she noticed that they had begun to soften. "I guess it's my turn to tell you a story or two." The smirk she gave couldn't hide the pain in her eyes at the thought of what was yet to be said.