AN: Surprise! A whole day early, cause I get to travel this weekend, hope you like it cause we're back with some Sansa! Fun note, I just realized how little I write from her perspective, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do! This chapter has a slight TW for mentions of sexual harassment/assault/etc, just a heads up.

As always, the support behind this fic is too amazing. Thank you so much, and read on!

It was interesting that he'd let her out with him, that he'd let her come with him. He actually offered, or rather ordered, that she be with him today, away from her now standard chores and the prying eyes of the club. She dipped another fry in her milkshake, trying not to think about how this was the way Arya ate her fries. Sansa missed her, despite the fact that they couldn't yet have a conversation that didn't dissolve into an argument.

And he'd handed her a gun, which was massive. She thought, idly, that he knew. He knew she would try to escape. Hell, he'd practically encouraged it, after her breakdown. She was still a little angry at the blurry memory of him forcing her to eat a banana, holding her down like she was nothing, but she knew she'd forgiven him by the time he took her heels off.

He was watching out for her. He reminded her that she was a wolf, even though she felt like she'd lost that part of herself. But he knew that she was smart enough to wait and play her cards right. There was no use escaping when she would just be recaptured and made to face a furious Joffrey. She'd bide her time then, and she wouldn't lose hope like she had before.

He was to thank for that then. She resolved that he might not be all that bad then, and he might even be an ally, if she didn't get too ambitious with it. Still, he'd said more words to her today than he had the first whole week, and he'd even asked her questions. She wondered if she could reverse Stockholm Syndrome him— make him feel empathy for his captive?

She had to keep focus on how the hell she was going to get away from him and Joffrey and back to Jon and Robb and her family. She had to focus on everything but what was going to come tonight, because she knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. She needed a plan of action. She decided to try something, and so she finished off a chicken strip and said,

"Don't take me back there."

"Not likely." He snorted. "I get paid, remember?"

"I could pay you." She said slowly. "Or at least, my brother could. He's the King in the North, you know." She didn't mean it, not really. She was just testing the waters, seeing how far she could get him to go. She knew he wouldn't tell Joffrey about this conversation, or it was a risk she was willing to take, since he held her necklace and hadn't shown anyone else.

"Not like he can." He was watching her and she wasn't stupid enough to think he didn't know, or at least suspect the exact thoughts running through her mind.

"Alright." She dropped the topic; she'd gotten far enough for one day. She didn't want to push him. He was the closest thing she had to a friend or an ally here, and if she ruined whatever balance they had, she'd ruin everything. Better to have patience, like she did when she drew. She never began painting without an idea or a sketch. That was how to do it.

"Done?" He demanded, when he had finished all his food, paid the check, and was glaring at her. Cheekily, she slurped her milkshake, before setting it down.

"First you tell me if I don't eat, you'll force feed me. Now you're rushing me?" She was sassy, but she couldn't help it. She knew she could be, around him, and it felt good to say something remotely like what Sansa Stark might have. There was no one else she could be herself with here.

"Let's go." He looked annoyed, but she decided she knew better. If he really was angry, she'd know. She followed him out the diner, instantly sweaty once again. It was how she was learning to live now, and despite the water she'd drank in the diner, she felt the dull pound of a dehydration headache. She wanted a shower and a nap, especially when she knew what would happen soon. But there was no time, not with Clegane storming around. She had no choice but to follow.

She was sure he'd take her back to the clubhouse, but they didn't head that way. Instead, they were driving out of town, the buildings growing sparser. For a moment, a crazy thought flickered into her head; was he dragging her out here to murder her? No, he wouldn't. Would he?

When he stopped at a point overlooking the wilderness, Sansa got off the bike and went to see the view. It was the desert, spread out as far as the eye could see, with nothing in the distance but sand and cacti. The sun beat down on it all, relentless. The expanse of freedom mocked her. Sansa sighed at it, and couldn't keep the bitterness out of her words when she asked—

"Did you take me here to remind me that there's no way I could run?"

"No." He was taking out a cigarette to smoke. "Not at all. I breathe up here."

"You breathe?" In confusion, she looked back at him. He leaned against the bike, smoking, looking out over the desert as well. In the bright sunlight, his scars seemed starker, but not scary. She'd found that studying them removed the fear from her at his appearance. She'd seen plenty of men with scars before, and the most terrifying thing about Clegane was the fury in his eyes.

"Aye. Easier here."

"You don't like the city." Sansa knew that much, from observing him. He was always tense, but this morning at the range was the closest she'd seen him be to relaxed, ever.

"No." His eyes flickered to her and back again to the landscape.

"Did you grow up in the country then?" She asked him, trying not to think of Winterfell and it's sprawling lands she was raised on.

"Of sorts." He remarked. "Not like this." He gestured to the gently rolling hills.

"Me either. Where I come from, there's a lot more trees. It's not so dry." Sansa gingerly poked her already reddening skin. "Or so fucking hot."

"The fucking heat." He agreed, in a tone that almost seemed to commiserating with her. Sansa turned to look at him, in his black shirt and leather kutte.

"Doesn't seem to bother you." She remarked, gesturing to his long pants and full beard. Even his hair, black as it was, had to be hot.

"Acquired talent." He tapped a bit of ash off his cigarette and Sansa moved to be upwind of it, wrinkling her nose at the smell of it. She'd always hated when people smoked.

"Where are you from?" She asked curiously. "Your accent, it's not Cali."

"No." He puffed on the cigarette and Sansa decided to keep talking.

"Not even the states, is it?" She mused, facing him and folding her arms. "You don't sound east coast, or from the south. It's different."

"Aye." He seemed amused, and allowed her to continue her little game.

"And you say aye…" She pursed her lips. "Are you a pirate?"

"Pirates don't say aye."

"They did, long ago. But fine, not anymore. Who says aye?" She tapped her foot and he gave her no clue as to where he may come from with his impassive face and his cigarette. "Are you from England?"

"Fuck no!"

"So which is it then?" Sansa was smiling and when he gave her a confused look, she clarified, "Only the Scottish and the Irish get that offended when you ask them if they're from England. Suppose the French do too, but you're not French. Your accent is dulled, I can't tell."

"Smart." He muttered, putting the butt of his cigarette out under the sole of his boot. Sansa wondered if he'd actually tell her, or if she had pushed too far. She genuinely was curious. "Where'd you learn that bit, about us hating the English?"

"Haven't you always?" She turned back to look at the desert. "Strange people, come into your land, make you follow their king, erase your religions, your histories, your traditions."

"Fucking English." He actually stood and joined her, standing beside her so he too could take in the view. "Fucking cunts."

"Scottish then." Her mouth tugged up into a smile and he looked down at her, surprise clearly written across his face. "Scots love calling people cunts."

"Traveled there, have you?" He mocked but she was past being offended by his tone. It was almost comforting, at this point. She never knew what Joffrey or his mother would do, or how any of the girls or bikers would treat her. But Clegane, he was steady and straightforward, bad-tempered and growly. Consistent.

"No, but I would like to." Sansa informed him. "I'd like to go see the wilderness there. I imagine it's got a little different scenery than this."

"Aye," He overlooked the sparse trees and the dirt. "Different."

"Where were you from?" Sansa tried, but he was done with the opening up, walking back to his bike. She sighed but counted this as a win nonetheless. When he started the engine, revving it pointedly, she knew she had to get back on.

This time, he did take her back to the clubhouse and when he stopped, she stayed on the bike, even after he'd stopped and parked. She stared up at the red building, dread pooling in her stomach. It was time then, and nothing she could do would put it off any longer. Noticing her lack of movement, he turned around and gave her a withering look.

"Off, girl."

"If I walk in there, Joffrey will rape me." Her tone was resigned. She knew that was the only possible outcome, and she was simply surprised it hadn't happened earlier. She had assumed, the second he'd marched her in there, that she would be no more than a sweet butt, sent to be passed around and be forced to warm a different bed every night.

"No, he won't." Clegane said firmly and she turned her eyes onto him.

"And you're so certain of this how?"

"Off." He ordered and she did as told, surprised when the hand he placed on her shoulder was actually gentle. He steered her into the clubhouse, which was thankfully devoid of the club members, and instead was filled with women who were preparing for the party that would happen there.

"Sansa!" Cersei arrived in their path, all sharp green eyes and sneers. "Why on earth are you so dirty? Did you roll in the dirt?"

"I made her run." Clegane growled before Sansa could answer and Cersei looked up at him, surprised. "Reminded her what would happen if she tried to escape."

"Oh, well," Cersei faked concern, but Sansa could see, in the glimmer of her eyes, how delighted she was thinking that Sansa had been made to run in the hot sun, with a dog barking orders at her. She ducked her head, pretending she'd been broken. "Go get cleaned up then, little dove. Don't destroy her Clegane."

"My methods, my rules." The words clearly stunned the queen, who wasn't use to being questioned. "Joffrey can tell me to stop."

"I'm sure he'd approve." Cersei was trying to get back on her pedestal, smiling benevolently at them. "Go get cleaned up."

"Alright." Sansa whispered, pretending to be ashamed and hurt. The second both she and Clegane were out of sight, she straightened up and looked at him, a little surprised he had lied for her, and why? He was avoiding her eyes, so as they went to climb the stairs to her room, she took them two at a time until she was ahead of him and turned, placing a hand on his chest.

"Clegane." She looked down at him.

"What?" He looked vaguely annoyed that their progress was being impeded.

"Thank you." She said quietly, mindful to watch and make sure no one else came. "For lunch, and for today, and for that back there."

"It's nothing." He brushed past her. "You'll run more now."

"Ok." A little surprised, but very delighted at how their day had progressed to arrive here, Sansa followed him to her bedroom. He sat down in his customary chair and Sansa went to the bathroom, eager to be out of her sweaty clothes. The shower felt good, and she took the time to condition her hair deeply, until it was as smooth as a rippling bolt of bronzed silk. When she got out, she smiled sadly at the blurry reflection in the mirror.

She'd always loved water as a girl. Her mother had laughed, calling her a little fish, but Sansa had always felt comfortable in the water. She had a sudden, painful longing to swim in the pond behind their house, where the boys had fished and she and Arya had pretended to compose water dances in the hot days of summer. Well, she'd danced, and Arya had pretended to be fighting.

She wrapped a towel around herself, looking around before noticing her mistake. She sometimes brought clothes into the bathroom to change into, so that she didn't have to parade past Clegane in nothing but her towel too often. But this time, in her rush to get washed off, she'd forgotten. She dried herself as much as she could, before securing the towel again.

"Oh." He looked up in surprise as she walked out on creeping feet. She spared him a quick, bright smile, opening the drawers with one hand so the other could keep the towel firmly up. He didn't say anything else, but as she went to find the least skimpy dress she had clean and a new set of undergarments, she chanced a look at him through the curtain of her wet hair.

He still looked a little thunderstruck, the burner phone he'd been typing on now handing forgotten in his left hand. After a moment, he seemed to remember where he was and averted his eyes, bringing the phone back up and determinedly staring at it. Sansa closed the bathroom door and wondered again if seducing him might be the best course of action.

She cleared the condensation off the mirror, looking at herself critically. She knew she was pretty, because back home, the boys would always comment on it. Her brothers, and especially Arya, always knocked her down a peg or too if she was getting too confident, but it didn't stop her from knowing that she was attractive in the conventional sense.

She didn't envision good looks working on Clegane like they did back home, where she could get a free oil change if she smiled and flirted a little. Besides, it was too risky. Right now, he hovered in a gray area. He was consistent in his answers and routine, yes, but she didn't know yet how to predict how he'd react to other things. He was kind to her, and he was more concerned for her wellbeing here than anyone else was. But would he accept her flirtations, or a request to take her away when it was timely? She couldn't risk him.

She got dressed, resolving to play for time. If she could strengthen whatever sort of strange friendship they had, she might be able to figure out how he'd react to her escape. Besides, so far, he'd kept her from the worse of it, and if he continued that, she might be able to wait this out until Robb came for her. Mind still ticking with plans, she walked back out, dressed.

"Sorry, I forgot clothes." She apologized and he just grunted, putting the phone away. She looked around the mostly empty room before turning back to him. "Well, what do we do now?"

"No desire to go into the lion's den?" His eyes were a cool grey, observing her. She shook her head, and she didn't need any other words. He knew, from how she held herself. She wouldn't go down there until called. He pointed to where she'd hidden her magazines and she sighed.

"They'll turn my brain to mush." She muttered and he made a noise, affronted. "But thank you for bringing them!" She added hastily. He snorted and grumbled something she didn't catch, so she retrieved them and sat. She even offered him one, but when he made a noise in his throat that might've been a chuckle, she took it back. Instead, he pulled out a pack of cards. Sansa watched as he shuffled them, then began laying them out deftly in some game she didn't know.

"What?" He grumbled, after she watched a couple turns, fascinated and trying to figure out what the objective was. "Know how to play?"

"No." Sansa said, magazines long forgotten. "Is the ace high or low?"

He contemplated her for a long moment before muttering, "Low."

"Oh." Sansa frowned. She'd been thinking it was high, but if it was low, why did the jack…

"What do you know?" He asked her suddenly and she forgot her musings.

"Poker, gin, pass the ace, go fish, all that stuff." She said quickly. "My mom is kind of a card shark. We got banned from playing on family vacations, because her and dad—" She abruptly broke off, remembering the very reason she was here. Never again would she see her father and mother, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, each holding a hand of cards, yelling while their children dissolved into laughter around them. She worked to swallow the sudden lump in her throat, and stem the tears that rose up. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't cry, not here. She'd never give them the satisfaction.

"Alright," His voice was surprisingly tender as he gathered up the cards and started shuffling them again. "You know how to play shithead?"

"No." Sansa watched him closely, as he dragged the bedside table between them so that he could start to deal the cards.

"This is how it goes." He laid three cards face down, then three face up, before dealing her three that she took up. "First, you're going to…"

Sansa caught on fast after he explained it a few times, and she proudly informed him that she had inherited not just her mother's looks but her affinity for cards as well. She lost the first couple rounds soundly while she worked to figure out how to play it, but she was making a strong comeback when the door opened and in swaggered Bronn, one of the bikers.

"What's going on here?" He asked, with a drawl. "Cards? I hope you're fleecing him, Ms. Sansa, because the man is a dirty cheat."

"I'm not good enough for that yet." Sansa actually liked Bronn, for what it was worth. He'd been kind to her, when she'd been at the porn studio, and she'd been cleaning toilets. He'd noticed her scrubbing without gloves, frowned, went and found some, and brought them to her. And he'd taken the bottle from Joffrey when he kept trying to pour shots and give toasts in honor of killing Sansa's father.

"Well keep practicing, and if you win any money back, return it straight to me." Bronn gave her a roguish wink and her mouth twitched into the slightest of a smile before he turned to Clegane.

"What?" The larger man grunted, still looking at the cards.

"Pres wants you." He stated and Clegane snorted.

"Not my pres."

"Your boss then." Bronn said flatly. "I can watch the little lady, he just walked in and started hollering. Don't keep him waiting."

"Fine." Clegane stood abruptly and left, storming out. Bronn, ever at ease, sat down and picked up the cards he'd left behind. Sansa, slightly tense, wondered what would happen next, but he simply whistled and tried to peek at her cards. Instinctively she shied away and he chuckled.

"Hope the man was letting you win, or I'm a worse card player than I thought I was." He remarked and relaxing slightly, Sansa resumed their game with Bronn.

After she won in shithead, which he declared a farce since he had to pick up where Clegane had left off, he taught her a new game that involved drawing cards and avoiding slaps on the hand. She actually enjoyed it, considering that she was usually quicker than Bronn, and she was even laughing at his frustration when Clegane walked back in, face stormy.

"Out." He ordered Bronn, who paused, a fraction of a second away from smacking Sansa's hand as she tried to draw another card.

"We're playing—"

"Out." His tone was more forceful now and Bronn pretended to be affronted, but he winked at Sansa as he left and she wondered if maybe he'd play cards with her again. She did like him, against all odds. Once the door was shut behind him, Clegane glared at her, looking furious for reasons she couldn't comprehend. "He wants to fuck you, you know."

"I know." She said shortly, trying to figure out if he looked extra angry, or if it was the same amount of anger as always. He snorted as he gathered up the cards.

"And Littlefinger, and the Toad, and Boros the Ugly, they all—"

"I know that they want to fuck me." She cut him off and he looked up at her. "I'm not an idiot, and I was raised in the club. I know how this shit goes. Why hasn't Joffrey ordered them to rape me yet?" Her voice grew stronger when her rage and fear did as well. "Is that what he talked to you about? Asked you to help decide which man it was going to be then, who gets the honors of raping Sansa Stark first?"

"Yes." He said flatly and his answer so stunned her she had no choice but to reel back. Before she could scream or cry in horror, she wasn't sure which would come first, he added, "And no one is going to fucking touch you, know that."

"You can't know that." She managed to unstick her voice with the terror she'd been feeling. "Joffrey wants to break me, so does Cersei, and they'll—"

"No one will fucking touch you." He was shuffling the cards repeatedly, like he needed to keep his hands busy. "Promise."

"Joffrey will rape me." She tried to get him to understand. A big man, strong and deformed, how could he possibly know about the helplessness when someone claimed your body for their own and there was nothing to be done? "He will rape me and hurt me, because he's depraved and twisted and I will—"

"Are you even fucking listening?" He glared at her and she was struck breathless at the rage behind his eyes. "He won't."

"Because why?" She was nearly hysterical now, all her fear making her feel like a child of sorts. She couldn't even comprehend, rationally, what was going to happen. It felt too big, out of her control from it all. This couldn't happen to her, not her. She wanted to pound her fists and kick her feet and yell about how the world wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair, but—

"Girl!" He grabbed her shoulders and shook. The sharp pain of her neck as it jerked made her come to her senses. She stared at him, scars and all, with that terrible expression of rage contorting his face, and it was a sort of comfort now.

"He will. Someone will." She was breathless.

"No, he won't. Not Joffrey or any of the others."

"You can't know that." Sansa's fingers went to where her ring had once sat, but it was gone now. She remembered, too late, that Clegane had it.

"I spoke to him." He told her flattly and she couldn't comprehend his words, because they didn't make any sense whatsoever.

"And made him what, promise not to rape me?" She swallowed her horror.

"Yes." His reply was simple and for a second Sansa could do nothing but stare at him in bewilderment, because none of it made any sense at at all. She couldn't figure any of it out. He couldn't be serious, he couldn't have talked Joffrey, evil, insane, cruel Joffrey into ever possibly agreeing to something like this, it was madness, it was impossible, it was—

"How?"

"I suggested to him that doing such an act, or allowing such an act by his men, would be better if he could force your family to watch." His gaze was steady on hers, even as he explained depraved things to her. "You mentioned a Robb and a Jon, right?"

"You—" Sansa couldn't get any other words out, as her horror and disgust made her feel like vomiting. "You— He'll— They'll—"

"Sansa!" He said firmly, and she was trying to scramble away from him, unable to comprehend what he'd done. Convinced Joffrey to rape her, in front of her brothers. In front of Robb, brave, strong Robb, and Jon, sweet, smart Jon. Her protective big brothers would be broken. Would they do the same to Arya? Would they kill Bran and Rickon and her mother?

"You- You-"

"Sansa, listen-"

Gasping for air, she curled in the corner, trying to get away from him, trying to calm herself back down to think logically. The revulsion, as she imagined herself being stripped naked in front of the brothers who'd loved her since she was a girl. Her heart felt like it was being shredded into pieces, ripped apart. Joffrey would do awful things in front of them, he'd even—

Suddenly, her breathing stopped and the tears that were clouded her vision ended. She looked up at Clegane in flat amazement, because the genius of his plan had clicked. If Joffrey intended to follow through on the idea Clegane had planted, it meant that he would have to capture her brothers and bring them here. She knew the likelihood of that. Even if it ever came to that, she'd have plenty of time to devise a plan first.

She stared at him, where he stood, across the bed from her. One hand reached out for her, as though he was offering his hand to her, but he didn't take a single step closer. She understood it all. He was giving her time, precious, valuable time that would allow her to plan while Joffrey went off on a suicide mission trying to kill her brothers. For a moment, as long as Joffrey went along with the plan, she was safe from the threat. Only one thing didn't make sense and she she raised her head to look at him in astonishment.

"Why?"

"I get paid each week I keep you safe." She saw no lie on his face.

"Oh." So he was playing for time too then, same as she was. The longer she stayed alive, she longer he was paid. Maybe he even remembered what she said, that Robb would pay him. If she knew hired guns as well as she thought she did, he was waiting to see how he could make the most of this situation. Guarding her gave him money, and if Joffrey won this war, he could take his lump sum and leave. If Robb won, he'd collect a reward for his duties and leave.

Either way, he didn't have to be loyal to either side, and he ended up with the money. She didn't know how to feel about it, him using her as a meal ticket, but she found she didn't really care. He was the one thing keeping her safe from all else, and though if the winds changed she was certain he'd leave her, she had to settle for what she had. For now.

"Well?" For some reason, his tone sounded a little bashful. He'd been watching her carefully, as she'd figured this out, her emotions going from terror to understanding after a few moments. She nodded, dazed, to let him know that she understood without so many words. Then she stood, brushed off the dress and walked, on trembling legs, back to where he was waiting.

The pair of them sat back down and though she was still quivering, he chose not to comment and instead dealt them both another hand for shithead, quietly. She picked up the cards, her hands still trembling, and tried to think of nothing but the cards she held before her. They were midway through the game when she muttered, nearly incomprehensible,

"Thank you."

All she received in turn was a grunt.

AN: Reviews are love and blessings - I love sharing this fic with everyone, so to hear such kind words and feedback is nothing short of amazing. If there's something you liked about this chapter, feed my ego monster and let me know! Thank you for reading!