A/N: So, can we please talk about the "You Need Him?" line? Can I just say that Joe Dempsie's face was priceless as Gendry. He looked so hurt and sad at the last moment. And Arya's face was just as good, as if she were like, "well yeah, but I need you more"! It's not healthy that I love these two so much, because when it is all said and done and GRR Martin does not give us what we want, I will be completely crushed. Anyway, enough rambling. Thanks so much for the reviews, you guys take my breath away with all of your kind words! Now, on with the show...

"Gendry. Gendry," Arya whispered from parched lips.

The fever had spiked, sending her into a world of blackness. She couldn't move, couldn't find the strength to come back into the light. She withered on the forest floor for two days fighting the poison that Lady Frey had given her. The poison that had saved her life and kept her away from being at the wedding that took her mother, brother and so many of his men. When she would come back to the light, only briefly, she was aware of a presence around her. Arya's mind was too fuzzy to remember what had occurred.

"Gendry," she whispered again. Her eyes were half-opened, but saw nothing.

"He's not here," answered a gruff voice.

Before she could stop herself, she fell into the darkness once more and shut out the light around her. The hours passed with her knowing nothing but sleep.

Finally, the fever began to break, and Arya felt herself coming out of the dead of blackness. She swam to the surface of consciousness, aware of the sounds around her. She kept her eyes shut, listening for any movement. Someone was there with her, someone close. She could hear them breathing, could smell their musty scent in her nose.

"I know you're awake," the voice said.

As soon as she heard him speak, everything rushed back to her. It hit her square in the chest. She remembered watching her brother being brutally murdered, her mother not long after her brother. She remembered narrowly escaping death herself, only to be taken by The Hound. It was he who had just spoken. Hate surged within her at the thought of that man being so close to her. She would kill him, kill him as soon as she could.

Arya opened her eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight even through the large trees. They were in the middle of the forest. She was laying on her back, her hands and feet tied. Her shoulder was screaming in pain, as was her neck and back. Arya had been laying there for a while, and the stiffness was felt throughout her body. She tried to move, only to smother a cry of pain from her shoulder.

The Hound moved towards her, and Arya snapped her eyes towards him. She stilled at once, watching him. The moment their eyes met, he stilled himself. For what seemed like forever, they just stared at one another. What she wouldn't give to be free. What she wouldn't give to have a blade in her hand to thrust in into the man's chest. He must have seen the hatred in her eyes, for his face turned dark.

"I'll sit you up, girl, but if you so much as try and run, I'll tie you to a tree. Not that you will get anywhere with your hands and feet tied. Do we have a deal?"

For a moment, Arya didn't answer him, but the longer she lay there the worse her shoulder hurt. Finally, she nodded her head in agreement. The Hound grabbed the front of her shirt, sitting her up, none too gently, against the bark of a nearby tree. He moved away from her, plopping down onto the ground. Arya studied him for a moment, seeing how his hideous face looked tired, as if he had not slept in weeks.

"You saved me. Why?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

He began to start a fire, not looking up at her or answering her for a few moments. Arya looked away from him in disgust.

"I ask the questions, girl," he said, finally.

Arya rolled her eyes. As if she would agree to that. "Doesn't mean I'll answer them," she commented.

"How did you escape King's Landing?" He stared.

Arya ignored him, looking off into the distance instead. Where was she? How far was she away from the Twins? At the thought of the Twins, she felt an horrible pain hit her and she winced under it's pressure. Arya closed her eyes, which did nothing but make it worse, for she saw her mother and brother's dead bodies littering the Great Room. They were dead...all of them dead.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She tried to suck in a breath, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate. She would not lose it in front of this man, not in front of The Hound. Arya's eyes shot open, yet she could not shake the image of watching Robb's head being cut off, or of her mother's neck being cut.

"Arya," the Hound called her roughly.

She ignored him, so caught up in her grief that she could not shake it. Her father...dead. Her mother...dead. Her brothers...dead. Sansa and Jon...more than likely dead. They had all left her behind. They had all left her in this horrible world. Arya wasn't aware when the Hound grabbed her and drug her forward. She wasn't aware that he sat her beside a river. Only when he pushed her head forward into the icy water did she come to herself again. Her grief and pain ebbed just long enough for her to break the surface of the water and suck in a large breath of air. Still, through it all, not a single tear fell from her eyes.

Arya lay on her back, staring up past the trees towards the red streak in the sky. It burned the blue sky like fire. The Hound sat on balls of his feet, looking down on her with wary eyes. She ignored him, choosing to lose herself in the fire of the sky. How much more was she to endure? How many more would be taken away from her, until the gods were satisfied. She cursed her father's gods, just as she cursed her mother's gods. They had done nothing but take from her everyone she loved. In her mind, she spat in their faces, mocking them for the phonies they were. The only god she would respect would be the god of Death, for he was the only one that showed himself to be true.

When The Hound picked her up to take her back towards the fire, she did not fight him. She would take her time, finding the right moment, and then she would free herself from his grasps, hopefully killing him in the process. He sat her back down in front of the tree, and began making the fire again. No words were spoken for the rest of the day.

As the sun gave way to the moon, the fire burned brightly. The Hound had cooked a rabbit for them to share, but when he walked towards Arya to give it to her, she turned her head away. He threw the meat at her feet, the dirt and twigs sticking to it. She looked down upon her and, though she was hungry, she kicked it right back to him. He stared at her for a moment, shaking his head. Picking the dirty meat up, The Hound began eating it. Arya looked away from him and out into the darkness.

Where are you, Gendry? Where are you, she thought.

"Where are you taking me?" Arya finally asked. It was well after midnight, but she knew that he wasn't asleep. She could barely make out the flames dancing in his opened eyes. He was lying on his back, one arm held behind his head as a pillow.

"I've been following you ever since the Brotherhood without Banners picked you and your friends up. The day they took you, I had planned to strike then. I was going to ransom you to your brother in hopes of winning a place in his services, but I guess Lord Frey took care of that for me. So, I guess I will take you to your aunt at the Eyrie."

"You could take me to the Brotherhood."

"You mean take you to that bastard boy of yours? And get myself hung? I'm not that stupid, girl. The moment I step foot on their land they will hang me," the Hound said, laughing.

"I wouldn't let them kill you." Because I will be the one to kill you, she thought.

He stared at her for a moment, as if thinking on what she had said. She jumped when he burst out laughing. "You do take me for being stupid, do you not? I see the hatred in your eyes. I know what's running around in that little head of yours. You'd not think twice to taking a dagger to my neck and slitting my throat."

Arya looked away from him, not finding it in herself to deny it. Somehow, she would have to find a way out of the binds on her hands and feet and make a run for it. She was fast, possibly faster than The Hound, and she could hide in the forest, until she knew it was safe to make a run back towards the Brotherhood's camp. It would mean going past the Twins, but what choice did she have? She would not go to her aunt.

"You are not like her," the Hound said softly. "So very different."

Arya turned her eyes slowly back towards his hideous face. He was watching her, his look unreadable. The anger and brooding was gone. In its place was calm. She had never seen him look this way before.

"You are uglier, though," he finished.

Arya flinched, though she did not know why. It took a few minutes for her to realize who The Hound was comparing her to. Sansa's face floated into her mind, and she remembered seeing how The Hound watched her sister. Even then, Arya could tell the man was enamored with her. Arya opened her mouth and began to laugh, though there was no humor behind it. She doubted she would ever laugh with humor again. There was nothing funny about this life anymore. Yet the laughter grew, until the tears were running down her face in the effort.

"Shut up!" The Hound warned.

Arya could not have shut up even if she had wanted to. It was just so sad that he loved someone like Sansa, someone who would rather crawl in dirt that allow him to touch her.

"I said shut up!" he screamed.

Arya calmed her laughter, only to strike at him with her words. "You think my sister would ever look upon you as you do her? You foul being. She would rather be spit upon than allow you anywhere near her," Arya seethed.

"I warn you now, girl. I am not above hitting a woman. I will strike you down if you do not shut that hole in your face!"

"And if you think that I am going to sit here and allow myself to be played in your twisted fascination of my sister, you are dead wrong, dog!" Arya bit out.

The Hound scrambled to his feet, lurching himself towards Arya and grabbing the front of her shirt. He twisted the fabric in his fist, his other fist going back and ready to strike. His teeth were bared, his breath coming out heavy and fast. His eyes were a blazed with furious anger.

"Do it, dog. It will be the only time you'll ever touch a Stark girl," Arya whispered.

He jerked away from her, staggering backwards. He turned his back on her, trying to calm the rage within him, but Arya wasn't finished. Not even close.

"Do you ignore Sansa's face when she looks at your scars? Do you look away when she looks at you, repulsed? She would rather Joffrey fuck her than have your hands anywhere near her!"

The Hound spun around, bringing his sword out. He held the tip towards Arya, advancing on her. Do it, she thought. Strike me down and make this pain end! The Hound raised the tip of the blade and plunged it towards Arya's head. She closed her eyes, waiting for the nothingness to take her, but it never came. As the moments slipped away, she opened her eyes to see his sword hanging above her head. He had plunged it into the bark of the tree, inches from the top of her skull.

In quick movements, he was on his knees, grabbing her and jerking her towards him. His face was inches from her own. His eyes were wild with insanity. She had pushed him past his breaking point and all she could do was snarl.

"What about you, girl? Think that bastard gave two shits about you? He allowed you to leave without him. He allowed you to run into the snake pit and watch your fucking brother and mother get slaughtered. You think he loves you? You're just as weak and pathetic as I am," the Hound whispered.

The snarl died on Arya's face, no matter how much she tried to hold it there. His words had cut deeper than she wanted to admit. The Hound saw it and began to smile. "Let. Me. Go," Arya growled.

"Not so tough now, are we? You are just as clueless as that bastard boy. Don't even know who he is."

The Hound released her, sending her back towards the tree. She stared at him, the last of his words not making sense. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

The Hound stood up and walked back to his place on the cold, hard floor. He never answered her, nor did she ask again. She heard the Hound curse under his breath, as he got back to his feet and moved towards her again. Arya watched him warily, wondering what he was about to do. His massive hand came towards her, but it was not her he was reaching for. He jerked his sword from the bark with more cursing. He had almost made a grave mistake and left the sword above her head where she could have easily reached it...almost.

"The Sweetling, The Mountain, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound. Valar morghulis," Arya whispered throughout the night. When she said The Hound's name, she made sure to say it loud enough to where he could hear her. "The Sweetling, The Mountain, Joffrey, Cersei, llyn Payne, The Hound. Valar morghulis." It went on and on, until The Hound sat up sharply.

"Shut up, shut up, shut...up!" he growled low.

Arya turned her head towards him. "The Sweetling, The Mountain, Joffrey, Cersei, Illyn Payne, The Hound. Valar morghulis!" she screamed.

He jumped to his feet, running towards her and slamming his hand onto her mouth hard. She bit her tongue in the process, causing the blood to ooze down her throat. Her eyes were slits of rage watching him so close.

"The Mountain is mine, girl. Get that through your head right now. Take him off that list of yours, and I know what that list is. The Mountain is mine!" he seethed.

His hand dropped from her mouth slowly. She did not speak, not until he was walking back to his bed made of grass. "I'll kill you first," she whispered to him.

"And I just might let you," he answered back as he laid back down.

For the rest of the night, she said her list silently, starting with The Hound. She would kill him, slowly and surly. She would kill him.

The next day, The Hound grabbed her up from where she was sleeping, waking her with a start. He jerked her to her feet, which she found were loose from the bind. Blinking back the sleep, she looked down at her feet and wiggled them. Though her hands were still bound, he had actually released her feet.

Stupid fucker, she thought.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out her small dagger. It was still caked with blood, and before she could stop herself, she took a step towards it. The Hound looked up at her, smiling. He knew what she was thinking, knew she wanted that dagger as badly as she wanted to get away from him.

"You run from me, and this dagger will be thrown into your back, girl," he growled.

"I want to wash up," she said. "I still have blood all over me.

He stared at her, wondering if it was a trap. He looked around, as if he didn't know quite how to respond to her change of subject. It was true, Arya really did want to bathe in the river before they left. With a growl of annoyance, he walked towards her, grabbing her arm roughly and pushing her forward.

They came to the river and stopped. The Hound did not move, as if he meant to stand there and watch her bathe. "Untie my hands," she said.

"Forget it," he responded.

Arya huffed. "How am I supposed to wash myself with my hands tied behind my back, stupid! Untie me. You have the dagger to plunge in my back if I try to run," she finished, mocking him.

It took a few moments, but finally, The Hound began to untie her hands. As soon as her wrists were free, she rubbed the ache within them. Feeling the bare flesh where the bracelet used to sit, Arya felt her heart squeeze. Where was her bracelet now? Horribly, she knew the bracelet was still at the Twins in the hands of the servant. The loss of it was enormous, almost as much as the loss of her family.

"We don't have all day!"

Arya turned around to look at him. He was watching her, his face growing red with his anger. "I'm not bathing with you watching. Turn around or something. You think I want you thinking of me like you do my sister?" she said, just to get under his skin.

"Girl, I'm going to fucking..." he said, raising the dagger in his hands. "Okay, okay...damn, calm down," Arya broke through his growls, sliding into the cold water with her clothes on.

The water soaked into her clothes, washing the sweat, dirt and blood from her skin. She relished the feel of it seeping into her pores. Holding her breath, Arya slid underneath the water. She stayed there, even after her lungs screamed for air. It would be so easy to stay under. It would be so easy to let it all go. The water felt nice, felt cold on her hot skin. All she had to do was let her will to live go, and all the hurt and pain she was refusing to acknowledge would die along with her. The pain of her family's death, too raw and consuming for her allow to take hold of her, would be gone. Nothing would ever be able to hurt her again, only if she would allow herself to stay below the water.

What do we say to the god of Death? It was Gendry's voice again. The voice that had saved her from certain death. He floated to her mind, his words whispered in her ear. What do we say to the god of Death?

Only this time, the answer wasn't not today. This time Arya opened her arms, giving the god of Death permission to take her. She saw her family's faces again. She saw her father and Robb. She saw her mother, Bran and Rickon. Even Sansa and Jon were there in her mind, and she opened her mouth to drink in a gulp of water and let the last of her breath go. She was ready, ready to be rid of it all. Not even the thought of Gendry's face could save her this time. Not even the thought of returning to him could make her fight, for she knew she would not be returning to him. He was lost to her, just as lost as her family was to her. Gendry was as good as dead to her. It was the final thought that broke everything within her. It was all it took for Arya Stark to die in the cold river.

Strong arms grabbed her around the waist, thrusting her towards the surface of the water. When her head broke through, she refused to take a breath, refused to believe that the god of Death didn't take her. Behind her, she could hear The Hound breathing hard. He held her tightly to him, but she had no strength to fight him. She had no strength to do anything but to open her mouth and allow the sobs to wreck her body. Finally, the tears came. Finally, she was grieving for her family. The Hound did not try to stop her, but remained silent and holding her as she looked towards the heavens and sobbed her grief and curses. She had been so close to joining them, so close to letting it all go, but The Hound had even taken that away from her.

"This isn't the way, Arya," he whispered. "This isn't the way."

How would he ever know what the way was? What did he know about her pain? But she allowed him to continue to hold her, for at least she could pretend it was Gendry's strong arms around her. The Hound had gotten something wrong, though. He had called her Arya, but what he didn't realize is that he had left Arya at the bottom of the river. Somewhere down there, she had given up. The girl he held tightly to him was nothing. She went down as Arya Stark, but as her head arose from the water, she came back as no one.

A/N: Alright, so I'm on vacation for the rest of the week...awesome! No husband, no kids, just me and myself alone at the house. Soooo, I can work on my fanfiction, which is doubly awesome, so be looking for a lot (hopefully) of updates.