A CONSTANT THROB

PART 111

" This is it?"

He glanced towards the passenger seat, but didn't have the patience to decipher if she was being sarcastic or truly surprised by the view in front of her. His eyes were gritty, burning from lack of sleep, his back was on fire, and they had gotten stuck in bumper to bumper traffic halfway into their drive.

Ravena, New York was the perfect out of town cover up for the kind of hideaway they needed. The cabin was not a cabin at all. No dingy logs stacked one over the other, but beautiful furnished oak, shiny, polished, and glowing from the roof to the foundation. Two floors, two master bedrooms, a bathroom for each of them, and a lavished living room with a fireplace to finish off the cozy ski lodge look.

The place used to be a dump growing up. Him and his dad along with his estranged brother used to come up here every fall to hunt. As long as it had four walls and a toilet to piss the three men considered themselves at home. So of course the upkeep was ignored and the cabin depreciated fast. When his dad passed away he gave Sandor the cabin in his will. He still wasn't sure if the joke was on him or if his dad really meant for his son to have this as a last parting sentiment, to keep the family together somehow.

He used his time off from the Starks to come up and work on it. Took his time, since he had a specific picture of how he wanted each room to appear, masculine but comfy, accommodating for every kind of individual. A few times he brought some of the boys up and they'd have a guys weekend, playing poker, doing some hunting and finishing, drinking beers, escaping the mundane everyday bullshit.

He hadn't come up since last fall. The place needed a good dusting and he had to turn the gas on to get the hot water running, but other than some small kinks this was paradise next to his apartment at home or the last twenty- four hours.

He hadn't answered her and he decided to just let the quiet between them be their way of communicating right now. They hadn't really forged a truce, but he couldn't stop thinking about what she said last night before she fell asleep. The words nagged at his corner of his brain like a gnat that wouldn't stop buzzing for attention.

Whatever it meant he didn't want to be the one to encourage the tumultuous downhill cycle between them. So he gave her the space she needed this morning when she got up first to dress in the bathroom and ate breakfast alone downstairs in the small guest dining area.

The car ride had been as quiet as a graveyard but the tension had bled off a little. Mainly he didn't speak unless speaking was absolutely necessary. Phrases like " Were stopping for gas," or " I need to take a leak," were about as close to a conversation as they had since their blow up last night. He didn't know what was up her ass or where she got this idea he liked Arya better. Sure Arya and him talked and joked more but that was because Arya made an effort to treat him like more than just a goddamn butler. To her he was a friend.

Sandor had always been kind to Sansa, always tried to be pleasant and cordial. She was the one who started giving him the cold shoulder a couple of years ago when out of nowhere she came to the conclusion she was too elite for a blue collar bloke like himself.

If his silence was all she wanted from him to be happy than that she could have that without argument. He was tired of the fighting. That wore him down more than all the other factors in these shitty circumstances combined.

Plopping the first of the plastic bags down on the large wood kitchen table, Sandor twisted the bulb on the ceiling fan tightly than flicked on the light with his index finger. The light turned on though dimmer than it should be. Good thing he had picked up a few bulbs in Wal-Mart. Along with many other necessities they were going to be using over the course of their stay.

He honestly couldn't guess how long they were going to be hauled up here. Could be a day or a few weeks, his guess was as good as any. As long as Sansa was in the clear when all was said and done. Until than this was their home, their safe haven….Sandor glanced out the big bay windows of the living room and watched as the little chirper balanced more bags in her hand than she could carry. Hopefully by the end of this she wouldn't see this as her prison and him the warden.

Sorry I'm not Arya.

He backed away so she couldn't see him peering out at her and went to check the rest of the cabin. Every room seemed to be in readied shape, which was a plus after the crappy motel room. He was dying for another hot shower, a nap and a piping hot meal in his stomach. Than he'd feel himself again and make another call to Ned, see if there were any leads.

Standing in the middle of the living room he watched as Sansa took all the supplies out of their bags and organized them according to categories. Canned foods together, refrigerated perishables in another pile, and clothes and bathroom necessities in a completely separate area on the table.

Clearing the gravely content from his throat, Sandor approached with caution. Not wanting to scare or alarm her. " The hot water should be up and running soon if you want to take a shower."

Her shoulders did a tiny jump before she settled her hands on the edge of the counter. He wasn't sure if she was mad he had interrupted or was preparing herself for another round between them. " Thanks," she replied and continued her work.

He stayed still, thinking maybe on the off chance she'd say something, but no. She was going to play hardball with him all the way. God he wanted to put his head through the sheet rock. With no response as his sole answer he gave up and headed towards the stairs. He'd clean up and test the waters later.

Taking two steps at a time he glanced her way again into the open kitchen and stalled, watching her pick up a box of lemon ices in her hand and flip the box over and over as if she was holding some familiar puzzle piece she hadn't known was missing until it was in her hands.

Lemon ices had always been her favorite when she was younger. She used to go bonkers over the damn things so when he passed them in the frozen isle he took the chance she still had a thing for them. He wasn't sure from the scrunched up look on her face if he had guessed right or not but he was too fatigued to care at the moment.

Gripping the banister he breathed out a breath that he probably had been holding since the limo ride. His insides unclenched and his chest unwound. Now he could concentrate and not worry about safety at least. They were home. His home, his safe place and as long as they were here, everything would be okay. And, also, if he kept his mouth shut.

~8~

Fresh clothes and a good shower could do wonders at altering a person's mood. The smell of bacon floated up to his room, the aroma making his stomach growl like a noisy squirrel was going nuts for escape.

To say he was starving was a colossal understatement. For a man his size, skipping a meal was like partaking in a forty day fast. But with time constraints and looking over his shoulder for the next bullet to hit, feeding himself wasn't exactly a top priority. Sandor had inhaled a stale donut as one of the motel employee's was cleaning up the complimentary breakfast, but other than the cardboard tasting pastry he hadn't wanted to waste precious road time on food.

" Dinner's ready." He heard Sansa shout from the kitchen. She could almost sound happy from the short distance of one level between them.

He held the phone to his chest as he answered, " Be down in a second," than continued to dial. He decided to make the call before he ate. Maybe he'd have some good news for the girl. He wasn't the kind of man who could sit down and relax unless a job was good and done. This wasn't a job he had predicted he'd ever be in but these unforeseen tasks were guarantees in the fine print of things.

The phone rang three times before someone picked up. "Yeah?" came the voice on the other end, resonating bored and callous.

" Theon, put Ned on the phone."

He heard the boy murmur something nervously before putting him on hold, which wasn't unusual because the young scraper always acted that way around him.

Jon had told Theon of the time when Sandor had been jumped by four men outside a bar in downtown New York. About how he had killed all four of the men and dumped their bodies in four separate places so the cops could never find them. Sandor wasn't particularly happy the story had reached any of the young boy's ears. He had only told Robb on a fishing trip he had went on with him, Ned and Robert. And that was after asking his father's permission. But being teenage boys they saw violence in a glamorizing light, like some Hollywood film, which couldn't be farther from the truth.

" Sandor…everything ok?" Ned asked doing a piss poor job of hiding his anxiousness, which was completely unlike him.

" Good boss. Everything is fine. We're at my cabin, in Ravena …anything come out on your end?"

" Jory was out all night…the driver wasn't a Lannister man, but Tyrion, Tywin's youngest, has been missing for a little over forty eight hours now."

Stroking the scruff of his beard, Sandor paused. " He's not part of his father's business. Tywin made sure of that."

" True," his boss agreed easily, " but Tyrion has always wanted to be part of it. Since he was old enough to tie his shoes. So Tywin placated him, giving him odd jobs and such to keep him off his father's back."

Sandor nodded his head, " Ok, but what does any of this have to do with your daughter?"

" Don't know yet. But there could be a connection somewhere down the line that Tywin is trying to cover up. I have as many men as I can out there before the lead runs cold." Sandor could picture the ice in Ned Stark's eyes as he thought about the harm these men had tried to do to his daughter.

" Wish I was there to help." Sandor gruffly admitted. He hated being trapped with no options. He lived for these kinds of hunts.

" Me too my friend but if it had to be anyone I'd rather you be with Sansa. I don't trust many people these days." His boss wasn't one to casually throw out compliments. He was a man of few words and fewer friends.

The weight of what he said sunk in deep. " Thank you, Sir."

" Call before you retire tonight. I might have something."

" Will do." Sandor complied eagerly. Hopefully the Stark men were on to something and not just chasing their tails and wasting precious time. Waste angered him. If he were there he'd stop at nothing, wouldn't eat, sleep, or breathe until he had who ordered the hit in his grip and made them suffer.

Thoroughly.

~8~

Sansa had made breakfast food for dinner. All the dishes were steaming hot, delectable in appearance, like something out of a gourmet cooking magazine. Sandor was practically drooling in his lap. It took all his restraint not to knock over his chair pile the food on his plate and dig in.

" I wasn't sure how you liked your eggs so I just made them scrambled with some cheese. I hope that's ok." Sansa said, busy placing the last plate of food onto the table, links of juicy breakfast sausage. The cabin never smelled so good.

She went to turn off the stove and gather the pots and pans in the sink. He used the unguarded second to study her. There was a slight wobble in her stance, dark smudges under her eyes, and her usual pale skin was an unhealthy ghostly white. The messy bun she had haphazardly made in the midst of cooking was about to fall out, pieces of hair clinging to her perspired neck.

His hunger was somewhat replaced by annoyance. He wasn't at all pleased with the shell of the fiery girl that was standing only two feet away. She needed rest, that was a certainty even she couldn't argue, but if the words came shooting out of his mouth she would likely do the opposite and stay up all night just to spite him. He would snicker at her unbending stubbornness if he weren't so agitated.

Opening up a window for some fresh air to come through, Sandor shrugged his shoulders and answered, " Scrambled eggs are fine," than pulled a chair out for her to sit down on. If she thought she was skipping another meal she had another thing coming to her.

Taking little heaps of each varied assortment of food, his plate was soon covered and he dug in greedily with a bountiful fork full. The food was in his mouth and being chewed when he noticed Sansa watching him, her plate still empty. He eyed her from across him than her plate, " You need to eat."

Her jaw set defiantly at his words and he corrected himself first before he gave her the opportunity to do so." Please. Eat."

As if not comprehending what he had said, her brow dipped and she studied the food than lifted her dull tired eyes to him. " I'm not very hungry. Making all of this sort of made me full."

He wasn't buying it. " Still you need to eat."

" I'm not hungry," she answered in step with his question. " Just tired."

" The water's running hot. Go take a shower and I'll clean up down here," he offered, hoping to put her mind at ease. " I'll make you a plate for after."

She sighed heavily, nodding as if agreeing with him than rubbed her eyes, her hands washing over her face, a mountain of exhaustion hitting her like a bulldozer. " Okay…listen I-I, um…I never thanked you for-"

" Sansa." He hated when people did this.

" No please let me finish," than she paused, waiting for him to protest but when he didn't she stood and continued, fiddling with the paper napkin on the table.

" Thank you for saving my life. If it weren't for you I would be dead now or in some basement tied up or something… I know I haven't been very cooperative and I'm sorry. I just wished…"

He had stopped eating, waiting.

Something about the way he was staring at her made her flush, made her doubt and stammer off course from her goal of where her words were taking her. " I know it doesn't make sense. You can't change the past or anything… I-I just wish I wasn't..."

The scrap of his chair screeched loudly in the otherwise peaceful room as he came to stand in front of where she was. Stop the torture of watching her pull for words that refused to come out.

He said nothing, wanting to fill the gap of silence but thinking better of it to let her get what she needed to get out.

He wasn't a talker and he usually screwed problems up worse when he did.

The slant of her doubting doe eyes was mesmerizing, crystal ice blue and too perfect to be real. She was giving him a half frown, half smile and he was trapped by who he was and shackled to what he couldn't do. If she were any other woman… standing so close to him like this…

What felt like a whisper's length of distance.

Instincts were a killer. A hot reminder of a cold shower he would be taking later.

He would like to wipe away that ambiguous crook off her mouth. He would kiss her slow and hard until she couldn't remember her name and her wits were jelly. His eyes drifted down to her mouth again…or he'd bring her upstairs, remedy her in a way that didn't involve food or showers, just his bed, her willing body and his tongue.

But she wasn't just any woman…

" Sandor…I….thank you…"

" You just wished what?" he heard his mouth move. His brain stuffy.

She was a hellcat when it came to busting his chops so he wanted her to finish. She never backed down from him in the past, what was stopping her now when he was actually being polite and approachable for once.

" I just wish," she fiddled with her hands, her long fingers squeezing against one another, turning red, " that I could call Joff after dinner. He must be worried and I don't want him to be going crazy and everything."

She was lying. That was easy enough to tell because she was horrible at the second nature instinct that was a requirement in most scenarios for him. But why was she lying was what he was itching to know.

He didn't want to come across like a hound that had picked up the scent of blood, but this walking on eggshells bullshit was mind numbingly tedious. This wasn't a damn therapy session and sparing feelings only led to a weak soft spinned person. Sansa was a big girl and she was tough. Tougher than she gave herself credit for. The delicate country club society girl wasn't her. No matter how hard she tried to change, her innate manual couldn't be altered no matter how much fake nails and hairspray she used.

" You just wished I didn't like Arya better, is that what you were going to say?"

There was no taunt or hitch in his question that she could use against him, but than again, anger was rarely logical. Her face went taut; her features closing off like a flower that was in mid bloom and now withering. " That's not what I was going to say."

" Than why did you say it last night?"

She wasn't expecting that. " I didn't mean it that way. I was tired…it doesn't matter what I said. You misunderstood…as usual."

She stepped to back away but he grabbed her elbow, her predictability working expertly to his advantage. " I didn't misunderstand shit. Why did you say it?"

" I-I," her nervous habit kicked in on time and she was wetting her lips with that tiny pink tongue of hers, " I only meant…well with Arya you are different…you-"

" Different?" he questioned disbelieving. The disbelief quickly overwhelmed by hinted amusement. His hands wrapped around her arm tighter, his fingers almost touching, her arm being so small. " Sounds like your jealous."

Insulted, she gritted her teeth, stung by the accusation. Women would forever be dodging the responsibility of that specific emotion. She tried lukewarmly to break from his grasp, but when he wasn't having it she stomped her foot. "I am not jealous. You're an asshole."

" Ok. I'm an asshole. But that doesn't change the fact that you're jealous." He tugged her a scant of an inch closer and watched as her eyes widened in fear than turned to slits of rage, a kaleidoscope of emotions unfolding right before him.

" Jealous." she dogged, without a question in her. " You're ridiculous. What does it matter?" She was shaking now. Where he couldn't tell, but the tremors rose from her skin and against his, goose bumps spreading across her flesh like hives. "You don't care about anyone. Right? No one. So don't stand there and presume to know me or pretend to care when all you're really trying to do is hurt me."

An endless wave of uninhibited awareness broke in the room. Ready to swallow and annihilate. He wanted nothing more than to fucking strangle her.

Glowering like a zealous Rottweiler who just zeroed in on his next meal, Sandor's eyes latched on to her mouth as he somehow got the words out. "You don't know shit about who I am or who I care about girl. I do know that college has turned you into a fucking spoiled brat."

" At least I'm not a monster like you."

" If you saw me as a monster than you would be smart enough not to poke at me for a fight every chance you got." He let go of her with a disgusted fling. " Guess college didn't make you too bright either."

" Fuck you," she whispered the shake was in her voice now, her body eerily closed off.

He leaned in toward her with a glint in his eyes that was battle ready. " No thanks. You're not my type."

Clearing her throat, she bent her head fully, her hair a wall to his penetrating stare. " Right..." she shook her head, " let me know when I can call Joffrey. Like I said I'm not hungry anyways." And she walked away, but not before Sandor could see the trace of a tear down her cheek.

" Sansa." But at the sound of her name she ran the rest of the way up, slamming the door of the bathroom with an angry thud.

Fucking great. He had just sunk from a piece of shit to a first grade asshole. What happened to keeping his mouth shut and giving her the space she needed? So he was a monster in her eyes. He had always wondered so, but hearing her say it pissed him off beyond comprehension.

So much for their " truce."

His eyes roamed over the array of food but the pit in his stomach ate away at whatever hunger was there. He was tempted to throw the whole damn thing against the wall, clear the table and take his gun out to find something to kill and calm his nerves.

Her footsteps stomping out of the bathroom and into the other guest bedroom pushed at his temper. Sandor was not going to spend the whole time here caged like a fucking rat in a laboratory. Sansa needed to be put in her place; she needed to hear the truth just like he needed to know what the hell was going on in that head of hers.

Without a second to think it over Sandor sped for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

This bullshit miscommunication ended tonight. Whether she was ready for it or not.