Warnings: Canon-compliant coarse language.
Three
Sam shoos Jaime and Brienne out of his office so he can begin downloading more CCTV footage.
"I should have named my agency Plausible Deniability," Brienne grumbles. "The gods know I hear it often enough."
Jaime chuckles. "Sam's just trying to protect you."
She sighs. "Mayhaps; but what do we do now?"
Several salacious suggestions flit through Jaime's mind, some of which he's almost hopeful would have been possible if their date hadn't been derailed.
"Well," he says, "we may as well talk to Sandor Clegane."
"Sansa left willingly," Brienne says with an adorable scowl, and Jaime almost laughs out loud at his own thoughts.
"But we don't know if it was her idea," Jaime says, "or if Sandor Clegane is more devious than we know. You're the one who taught me to follow every lead, and the Cleganes are a lead, even if a very remote one."
Brienne considers his words, her scowl deepening before she nods. "I suppose if nothing else, we can tell him to stop threatening the Chief of Police."
*/*/*/*/*
When awake and upright, Sandor Clegane is even more intimidating than expected. He watches them with a permanent, contemptuous sneer on his scarred face while they ask if he knows Sansa Stark.
"Of course," he rumbles. "She's here practically every night with that little shit she's marrying. What about her?"
"She's missing," Brienne says.
"Really? When? Weren't they supposed to get married today?"
Jaime raises an eyebrow. "A follower of celebrity gossip, are you?"
Sandor rolls his eyes. "Fuck me, I can't escape it! That son-of-a-bitch is in here almost every night, being a royal dick to everyone and their dog, including his 'beloved'. I'd gladly throw his body in the Blackwater myself just to get him and the varysazzi that are on him like flies on shit out of my bar except it would bring the Gold Cloaks and every one of his stupid little groupies down round my head. 'Crown Prince of Rock' my sweet arse! I've had that brainless little bird of his sobbing in my office more times than I care to remember, blubbering on and on about this bleeding wedding. Don't tell me she finally grew a spine and left the fucker?"
"That's what we're trying to discover," Brienne says, her voice cold, her eyes watchful.
Clegane frowns.
Brienne says, "Chief Eddard Stark and the Gold Cloaks have been receiving threats for the last few months as a result of their investigations into your family's business interests. The threats have escalated since your brother's arrest."
Clegane stares, his permanent sneer becoming more pronounced.
"So what? You think I kidnapped that stupid child on the day of her wedding? What did I do? Lurk outside their house, hoping no one would notice me while I waited for an opportunity to grab her?"
Jaime spreads his hands in a shrug. "We need to investigate every lead."
Sandor rolls his eyes. "I have not been sending threats to Eddard Stark, and I'm not a fucking lead. I've been here all day; you can check with the staff."
"Because obviously they can safely tell the truth," Brienne mutters, raising an eyebrow.
Clegane glares. "The DragonPit is a legitimate business, Ms Tarth; it would be in your best interests to remember that."
Her gaze never wavers. "You expect me to believe you have not been threatening Eddard Stark and his family? Forgive me if I remain skeptical."
Sandor's eyes narrow then, to her surprise, he booms a harsh, barking laugh. "You have guts, I'll give you that." He leans forward, his eyes boring into hers. "I'll only tell you this one more time: I have not been threatening Eddard Stark or the Gold Cloaks and I had nothing to do with the disappearance of Joffrey's fluttery little bird."
"And your...staff?" Jaime asks. "Those who might be interested in helping you get your brother released from prison?"
Clegane barks his laugh again. "It's likely Gregor himself who's behind the threats. I sure as fuck have no desire to see him released from prison."
Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance, then Jaime says, "Whatever happened to brotherly love?"
"How's this for brotherly love?" Sandor growls and points to the scars on his face. "The cunt can rot in prison for all I care."
"Dangerous opinion when your brother has not yet been convicted of anything."
"His DNA is all over that poor bitch," Sandor says flatly. "He'll be convicted."
*/*/*/*/*
Brienne calls Catelyn on their way back to the office.
"The news is breaking on social media now," Catelyn says, "and the varysazzi are camped on our front lawn. When you find her..."
"We'll do our best to keep her hidden for as long as possible. Still no message from her?"
"None. She doesn't have her phone, of course, but I hoped she would have found somebody somewhere who would let her use a phone." Catelyn sighs. "Petyr's out looking for her, too."
"Petyr? Petyr Baelish?"
"Yes. He had to leave the sept before the ceremony; some sort of crisis at work. He just saw a raven that the wedding was called off and called to check on us. I told him not to worry but he's insisting on at least cruising round the sept in case she's still in the neighbourhood."
"Right," Brienne says slowly. "Good plan."
"I'll text you his number; maybe you can check in with him and share whatever progress you've made."
"Of course, Catelyn, we'll do that."
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime says, "Why didn't you tell her we know Baelish left to follow Sansa?"
Brienne frowns, shaking her head. "We don't really have proof of that, and…"
"And no one believed us about his involvement with Jon Arryn's murder."
She nods. "And no one believed us," she says and turns to stare out the car's window.
*/*/*/*/*
Sam thankfully has good news for them when they arrive back at the office.
"I managed to pick up Sansa's car right away," Sam says, "and I tracked it to the Hook." He pulls up a map of the city and zooms in to neighbourhood in question. He points at the screen. "They pulled off somewhere between here and here. I'm downloading and scanning the street CCTV footage within a three block radius but I haven't caught sight of it again."
"Well," Jaime says, clapping his hand on Sam's shoulder, "this at least gives us a place to start looking. Our only other option would be to wander the streets of King's Landing asking if anyone has seen an auburn-haired bride of one-and-twenty running away from her own wedding."
Brienne rolls her eyes, and says to Sam, "What's in the area?"
"Hotels, mostly. Some coffee shops and restaurants. Bars. A few convenience stores, that sort of thing."
"Thanks, Sam. Gods only know what we would do without you."
*/*/*/*/*
"This is really not how I imagined we'd spend our time together today," Jaime grumbles as he slowly drives them round the neighbourhood, scanning parking lots as they go.
"Well, how much fun would we have had, really?" Brienne says absently peering intently out the passenger window.
He tightens his grip on the steering wheel.
"I taught you to dance, Brienne, just so we would have fun. Although I suspect we would have been able to entertain each other well enough without that."
Brienne slides him a rather shy glance then turns away to continue searching for Sansa's car.
He sighs and wonders how long it's going to take to repair the damage his brief conversation with Cersei has caused, and badly damaging the revelation about Joffrey is going to be, once he tells Brienne about it.
He glances at his gold hand and his lips twist.
As if he doesn't have enough secrets already.
Brienne sits up straight and points at the parking lot of the Vale Hotel. "There! I think."
*/*/*/*/*
The car definitely looks like the one that Sansa left in, and when Jaime and Brienne inspect it more closely, they see the license plate is smeared with mud. Jaime sacrifices his pocket handkerchief to wipe the plate clean and Brienne takes a picture of it before they go into the hotel and walk up to the front desk. The hotel clerk is young and crisp, his name tag proclaiming "Welcome! Call me Podrick!" in overly bright, cheerful letters.
"Did this young woman check into the hotel today?" Brienne says and shows him a picture of Sansa that Catelyn had sent them. "She would have been wearing a wedding dress."
He looks from Jaime to Brienne and swallows nervously. "You know I can't tell you that."
"Well," Jaime says, "can you at least phone the room she's in? Just tell her Ned and Catelyn want to hear from her."
Podrick's look is still nervous but now it's long-suffering as well. "I can't do that, either," he says. "Do you have a name I can search?"
Brienne glances round then leans closer. "Sansa Stark," she says. She shrugs at Jaime's disbelieving look. "It's worth a shot," she says.
Podrick taps at the keys, peers intently at the screen, then shakes his head. "Sorry," he says with a shrug.
"All right," Jaime says, holding out his hand for Brienne's phone, "how about calling the room this car is registered under?" He rattles off the license plate number.
Podrick's eyes narrow and he opens his mouth.
Brienne leans forward, her eyes intent. His eyes widen and he gulps a little as he seems to truly register her height and bulk for the first time.
"Look," she says, trying to sound as sincere and harmless as possible, "we don't even need to speak to her. We just want to make sure she's all right and ask her to call her parents."
Podrick blinks rapidly and says, "I—I just started my shift a half ago and I honestly haven't seen anyone arrive in a wedding dress." He blinks again and turns to his computer. "What's the license number again?"
Jaime repeats it and Podrick enters it into the computer. He frowns at the screen and shakes his head. "We don't have that car registered here."
Jaime and Brienne deflate.
They thank Podrick and turn towards the front doors.
"Well, they must be around here somewhere," Brienne says.
"Or they drove away in another car."
Her shoulders slump. "Or they drove away in another car, just like we did."
He nods.
She sighs then catches a glimpse of an auburn-haired woman dressed in white slipping through a door to her right.
She grips Jaime's arm, nods towards the door and says, "I think I saw her."
Jaime follows closely behind as she hurries to the door. They step into a hallway, with overly bright, cheerful signs pointing the way to the hotel's pool and gym. The hallway they're in turns left, but the door prior to the turn is slowly swinging closed.
Jaime sprints down the hallway and catches the door before it finishes closing. They walk in to discover the gym, small and windowless, but clean, brightly lit, and mirrored to give guests the illusion it's larger than it truly is. It's also empty.
Brienne inspects the women's locker room and returns, shaking her head.
Jaime shrugs. "Well, we can't leave any stone unturned," he says and goes into the men's locker room, only to discover that it, too, is empty.
Brienne sighs. "It probably wasn't even her," she says glumly. "The woman I saw was still in white. Sansa's probably changed by now."
Jaime shrugs. "We couldn't just ignore it, either. Let's check out the rest of the hallway; mayhaps she went to the restaurant."
Jaime gives Brienne his most encouraging smile as he puts his hand on the door and pulls.
The door refuses to open.
He pulls again, frowning.
"Maybe try pushing," Brienne says drily.
He rolls his eyes but gives the door a push.
Nothing.
"Stop playing games, Jaime, we don't have the time," Brienne snaps. She reaches past him and tries the door herself.
It refuses to budge.
"Well, shit," she says, staring at the door in disbelief. "Do we need a pass card to get out, too?"
They inspect the door and the wall around it, then scan the entire gym.
"No card reader," Jaime says. "No unlock button, either."
They stare at each other for a long, silent moment before Jaime slowly gives her a wicked grin.
"Looks like we're trapped for the time being," he says and leans closer, his eyes gleaming, "and all alone."
*/*/*/*/*
