January 1st, 2010 - captivearya dot livejournal dot com - Happy new year, I fucking guess… the Hound is off trying to steal something or murder someone, IDK and i don't care - I'm at the library on new years day using thier computer to update my private journal that no one can see. Ha ha. My life's a joke. I don't know how he passed the test to be secret service... aren't only good guys picked to do that? he's a criminal! Nice job us government. It's been almost 3 months since this all happened and he is not showing any signs of letting me go.

Yesterday he taught me how to stab someone in the heart. We are in Ohio-one of cersei's dudes tried to follow us when we were at that motel in Kentucky and TH (the Hound, duh) tried to lose him on the road but he still found us so we got out of the car on the side of the road in the middle of the night and I begged him to let me be the one to kill him. TH didn't want me too but finally agreed when I said I needed to learn. So he knocked him out and I stabbed him with the dagger and then he died. I really liked it. I Think TH was a little scared how easy I killed that guy. Maybe he should be scared. I know how to kill people now.

I miss mom and dad. IDK where Sansa and the boys are, TH won't let me use a phone to call anyone who might know and he doesn't even have a cell phone so i can't steal while he sleeps. So lame… I know they r worried about me but I sort of like being invisible for a while… Oh well. Hopefully TH will let me kill someone again soon

Sandor Clegane, her former captor, is standing in her kitchen. Although the years have changed his appearance somewhat-his beard is going gray, for one thing-it's unmistakably him. His long, dark hair, his brown, angry eyes. And the scars, obviously. The burns on his face will always be a dead giveaway. She asked him once why he doesn't just get surgery to fix them. He just told her to fuck off. Arya figures the scars are just as much part of his identity as the rest of him, even though they are hard to disguise and usually give him away when he's trying to be incognito. It's already hard for a 6'6 man with a sailor's mouth to go unnoticed. Thankfully Arya has the opposite problem. No one ever sees her coming or pays attention to her, unless she wants them to. She looks quite different than she did during her father's presidency, and disguising herself is easy when she needs it to be.

Arya is angry that she never saw this coming. She didn't even question that Sandor had died when she left him behind. Of course he wasn't dead. What a fucking rookie mistake. She's so mad, she almost forgets how much she misses him. Arya misses her mother, her father, and her brothers all the time, and they're with her in some small way with every step she takes. But the way she misses Sandor is different. He was the first person in her life who acknowledged her true self, and tried to help her cultivate it. Unlike everyone else, he never discouraged her from finding and exploring that dark part of her soul, and since he's been gone, she's had to hide it away in the recesses of her mind. She fears she'll never meet anyone else like him, and that no one will ever understand her better. This is a thought that sometimes keeps her up at night. It's so goddamn annoying.

"So. You're not dead," Arya says, her heart beating wildly. She has no idea how to feel right now. Mostly she's glad he's alive. But some part of her wishes he was still dead. It's just easier that way.

"Aren't you the little detective," Sandor says mockingly. "No. I am not dead. No thanks to you."

Arya has a lot of questions, and she probably needs to apologize for leaving him for dead, but… where would she even begin? They have a lot to talk about, but before Arya can think of what to say, thankfully Sandor quickly changes the subject.

"You don't have any fucking chicken in your refrigerator, girl," Sandor says, and Arya chuckles. "Why not?"

"I'm a vegan now. I never have any chicken in my refrigerator."

Arya wants to laugh at the look on his face. It's the only thing she can think of saying that would actually hurt his feelings.

"That's truly a shame," Sandor says with as much disgust as she's ever heard. "You've become one of 'them' now. How... revolting."

"Revolting? When did you learn how to say big words?"

"You are a rude little bitch, aren't you? For fuck's sake."

Arya finally lets herself laugh. She really has missed this idiot. "I'm not actually a vegan. I just haven't been to the grocery store this week. I'll order a pizza."

"Thank the gods. I'd rather go out. You're living in Texas now, there's a steak joint on every corner in this fucking shithole. Let's go."

Arya shakes her head. "You know I can't be seen with you. Come on."

Sandor looks really, actually hurt for about a split second. "Oh. Right. Order the fucking pizza, then. I'm starving." His Scottish brogue is one of the things she remembers fondly about him.
Obviously a lot of her memories of him are not so fond, but it wasn't all bad, she'd have to admit.

Arya orders the pizza-along with some chicken wings for her friend-and they sit down at Arya's kitchen table while they wait. This is so surreal, Sandor looking across from her and having a conversation like it's totally fucking normal. Arya hasn't seen him in eight years, and she's tried to change everything about herself since then. But something about him makes her feel like a naive teenager again, and it's way too unsettling.

"I can't believe you and the little bird moved back to Texas. Texas, of all places. And she married the imp! What were you two thinking? After all you've been through," Sandor says, shaking his head.

"Mostly that we want to move on with our lives and put all of this shit behind us," Arya replies. "It's where our mother was from. We have roots here. And you can't say 'imp' anymore, it's just rude."

"Fuck the dwarf. I have an aunt in fucking Delaware, you don't see me tracking her down."

"And yet you tracked me down," Arya calmly says, to see his reaction.

"Yes," Sandor says, looking her in the eye, making her nervous. "I did track you down."

"And why is that, exactly?"

"What, we can't have some foreplay before you start trying to fuck me?" Sandor asks. Arya has to laugh-she'd almost forgotten how crass he can be at all times of the day. As a naive 14 year old, this shocked her at first before she got used to it. At 24, hardly anything surprises her anymore. Sandor is mostly to thank for that.

"Why are you here?" Arya wants to get to the point. Obviously he's not here to enjoy some garlic Parmesan chicken wings and go to a late night movie.

"I'm here because Rose asked me to speak to you," Sandor says, shrugging. "I do what I'm told... for the right amount of money."

Arya had a bad feeling that that was the case. Why else would he be here? You can't say no to Rose without expecting her to keep trying. Arya should know better.

"Yeah? How do you know Rose?"

"None of your fucking business," he says predictably.

"I would disagree, seeing that you're in my house and presumably you want something from me."

Sandor scoffs. "Oh, and that means I owe you an explanation?"

"Yes."

"I forgot how annoying you can be. Rose asked me to come here because she needs you on the team. That dumb Lannister bitch is getting closer to executing her long-term plan to destroy this country. Rose has it in her little head that only you can stop her. So that's why I'm here."

"How do you even know Rose?" Arya is curious in spite of herself.

"She's a friend," he says, avoiding Arya's eyes as he tells her this.

"A friend, huh?"

"She came to me while I was recovering. You know, from nearly dying." And apparently that's all she is going to get out of him about Rose, as the look on his face indicates. She decides not to press the issue. Yet.

"Fine, whatever. Why don't you just tell me what she wants from me?" Arya is ready to get to the point. If Rose sent Sandor here, Arya knows that this is real, and as much as she wants to hide from her role in this situation, it's dawning on her now how impossible that may be. And part of her is relieved that it's finally come to this. Finally… revenge.

"She wants you to find Cersei and kill her, and make sure you get all the other shitbags involved in the plot, too," Sandor says. "What did you expect, a tea party?"

"Of course not," Arya is quick to say. "Where is Cersei now?"

"She was last seen in Paris with some of her goons, so that's where Rose wants you to go first. If she's left France, there's a good chance she's at some godforsaken castle in Brussels, where there's some talk that she's planning a practice run before she comes to America."

Arya doesn't ask about the nature of this attack just yet. She gets the jist, anyway-blow a lot of things up, kill a lot of people. The usual.

"And when does Rose want me to leave?"

Sandor reaches into his back pocket and gives her a plane ticket to Paris.

"This ticket is for 9AM tomorrow…"

"I always knew you could read."

Arya goes through about 17 different emotions while Sandor studies her. She has to leave her house, her job, Sansa and Tyrion, her niece and nephew… and there's always a chance she'll never come back.

"What happens if I don't agree to this?" Arya asks, even though she already knows the answer.

"Then Cersei wins," Sandor says, shrugging. "Apparently only you can stop her, Rose has told me plenty of times. Cersei will move forward with her plans and probably everyone you love will die. But why should that concern you? You've already lost most of your family. And besides, you have a great job and lovely condo with wooden floors. Why would you want to change anything about that?"

Arya resents this. "I've worked hard to move on from my past. Maybe I like the life I have now. Maybe I don't want to go back to the darkness."

Sandor regards her closely. She hates it-she realizes that even though he has no idea what she's been doing since she left him behind, he knows her true existence. He's experienced what she's capable of, and she's only gotten better. Not to mention, he's seen her at her very lowest, when she had nothing left to lose.

"Don't fucking lie to me, girl. I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill that bitch, and this shitty life you have in this shitty state can't give you any kind of pleasure. Not like the kind you had before. I've seen what happens to you when you stick a dagger in a person's heart. It makes you happy-you enjoy seeing the light go off in their eyes. You're just like me. No use denying it."

He's right. God, she fucking hates when he's right. She doesn't even try to argue his point.

"Let's say I agree to this. Who did Rose assign to come with me? I hope it's not that Matthew kid she sent with me to Mexico-he almost got me killed like twelve times."

Sandor looks at her in a way she can only describe as mischievous. He pulls another ticket out of his pocket and hands it to her. For some reason this never occurred to her, but she can't help but feel immense relief that he's the one to come with her on this journey.

"Really? Don't you have some urgent business elsewhere?"

"No."

"Well... why? Why would you want to come with me? You don't care about Cersei, you never have. And when was the last time you fought for anyone but yourself?"

"I fought for you, didn't I?" He says, and her heart breaks a little. But then she starts to understand.

"Wait-Gregor is with Cersei, isn't he?"

Sandor nods. "Yes. He's with her."

"So… this isn't about coming with me or guarding me, it's about you finally getting revenge on your brother."

"What does it matter why I'm going? You need a guard and I need money. If I also happen to kill my brother at the same time, that's just a bonus. Get over yourself."

Arya scoffs, but she doesn't disagree with the logic. She also inherently understands that it's not just his brother. After all the time they spent together on the road, for two entire years, he
and Arya grew close in a weird, twisted way. She knows he feels it's kind of his duty to protect her. And although she long ago decided she didn't need anyone to protect her, if anyone is
going to do it, she wants it to be Sandor.

Arya looks around at her condo and doesn't see a single thing she'd miss if she were to walk away right now. Sansa has all the Stark family keepsakes at her house. Most of Arya's possessions are things she can quickly pack up and leave with at a moment's notice. Now that she thinks about it, she's probably been preparing for this day for a long time. She will obviously miss her sister, but Sansa gets it. At least Arya hopes she does. She'll send her a text before leaving, she decides.

"If you go with me, it will be on my terms, yes? Because I'm not going if you're going to dictate our every move. Those days are long over."

"Yes, yes, it's all you, my friend. Long over for me, too. I have no interest in a repeat of that miserable time of our lives. But don't expect me to carry your baggage, either. And if you are rusty with your knife, I am not going to be your weapons teacher. If you haven't learned everything you need to know by now, I'm not going to be the one to show you."

Arya chuckles. "I'm not 'rusty' with anything. Don't worry about that. And I'll probably be showing you a thing or two."

Sandor looks doubtful, but doesn't argue with her.

"Fine. I'll do it," Arya says, and Sandor nods, looking slightly satisfied. "And you can stay here tonight."

Before Sandor can argue, the doorbell rings and Arya fetches the pizza and wings. The two of them eat together and make civilized small talk (as much as Sandor is capable of such things).

After dinner, Arya gets out a blanket from her closet and lays it on the only sofa she owns, which she bought at a garage sale a few years ago because it was cheap and not falling apart. Sandor is obviously too tall to sleep on the sofa, but he accepts her blanket and pillow gratefully.

Before she goes to bed, Sandor grabs her by the arm. She turns to look at him.

"You're making the right choice, girl."

Arya nods, gives him a small smile, and he lets go. The sad thing is, she knows he's right. Because although she's been trying to move on from that girl he knew so long ago, she realizes that she never really did. She's just been waiting for a real opportunity to come back to that life, and now here it is, right in front of her.

What a relief.

A/N - So a few notes before we go on:

- In this world, guns aren't a thing. Maybe they were outlawed or perhaps just weren't invented yet, but they don't exist here. Mostly because if everyone in this story had guns, it would just be too easy. So... no guns. *shrugs*
- Sandor/Arya are end game...just in case you couldn't tell by the tags. I didn't want anyone to get emotionally involved if that's not your jam.
- I decided Sandor is Scottish because Rory is and I like his accent.
- Thanks again for reading, and likes/comments are life.