A/N: final chapter, a.k.a the one with the actual Sansa/Sandor interaction. Hope it leaves you at least with some fuzzy warm feelings!

All rights belong to George R.R. Martin

3.

Sandor was still in the kitchen, toweling off the washed cups above the sink. "Hi again." Come on Sansa, say something meaningful for once, she chided herself internally. "We, uh-"

"It's good to see you again, little bird," he rasped. "Good to see you hale and happy."

She blushed at the sentiment. A dog will die for you, but never lie to you, her mind echoed. "Thank you. I'm glad I got to meet you again too. I confess I was a bit…taken by surprise, at first. Stupefied, to be honest. I-," she stopped for a moment to form appropriate sentences of the thoughts floating in her head. "The last rumors I heard of you… they said you'd died, in a raid…or got jailed for life, because of…various crimes you'd committed."

His face stayed blank during her confession, and she hastened to add, "I didn't believe it, I mean, that you would do such things…"

"But you could believe I died a violent dead, couldn't you?"

"…yes."

"Can't fault you for that. I nearly did," he snorted. "I had the ill luck that a particularly bullheaded man stumbled over my near corpse and forced me back to health. And then continued to bug me into reforming my life in the light and benevolence of the gods."

"He could keep his buggering gods," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, "but I realized not all of what he said was foolish bleating. So I got better, and decided I'd had enough of the Hound. He died the violent death he wished for, but I'm still here." He looked at her during his speech, but after those last words, his gaze swerved down, focusing the empty mug he was holding in his right hand.

"I often wished you'd stayed. Even if the Hound was…not a nice person. You helped me nonetheless, during that horrible time."

"I wouldn't call it help, little bird. I was no one's hero. Just an angry man," he said plainly, with just a small tinge of bitterness.

She crossed the distance between them and laid a hand on his arm, which caused him to raise widened eyes to hers. "But you tried to save me all the same, and I'm grateful for that." Sansa tried to convey her sincerity, steadily returning his gaze.

His hand engulfed the one she rested on his arm, and he released a long held-in breath.

"I see you shed some of your feathers," he said after a long moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, before they realized how close they were and both awkwardly retreated back into the safety of their personal space. Sansa felt the ever-damning blush set on once again, but this time she was not the only victim.

"I need to get back to my friends. They're probably wondering why I'm taking so long." She shuffled nervously. "If you want, we could get together some time later to talk more. Catch up."

Despite the tentative contact and the confusing exchange of emotions that had just happened between them, he still sounded surprised by her proposition. "If you want."

"Yes, I'd like that, very much."

Sandor produced a cell phone from somewhere, they swapped numbers. She gathered her stuff, the bag and the thermos, from the table.

The awkwardness returned as she was truly leaving. She muttered a 'bye' and made for the hall.

Sansa returned a split second later. "Sandor?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Sansa."