XX – "We must talk."

She arrived before midnight – as he had known she would.

Sandor had not undressed but lay in his bed in his clothes. He had smothered the fire and lit no candles, but when he heard the soft footsteps and the soft creak of the front door he waited until she slipped beside him before speaking.

"Sansa."

"You knew I was coming, didn't you?" There was lightness in her tone and she snuggled next to him – only to draw back when she realised that he was clothed.

"We must talk."

"Yes…sure. That's why I am here." The lightness was replaced by uncertainty now, but she continued to lay by his side, unmoving.

Sandor had decided that he couldn't delay what he had to say – as tempting as it would have been to let the impossible dream to continue for a little longer.

"I can't come with you."

There. He had said it.

A sharp intake of breath, then silence.

"You heard me?"

"I heard you," Sansa said, timidly. The high noblewoman who had defeated her foes in their own game no more, but the girl she had once been. Sandor felt a monster – once again.

"Your life is not mine. It never was and it will never be."

"I know that. But it doesn't have to be, you can still have your own life."

"My life is here now. These people – they took me in and accepted me. I may not be the same man I was before, but my face has not changed. Country folk still tell their children that if they don't behave the Hound will come and take them away. People still remember."

Sansa sighed and turned on her back.

Sandor wasn't sure if he was making the biggest mistake of his life or not. He had thought nothing else since the previous night and at times he had felt ready to leave everything behind and follow the dream of a girl. Long held, secret dream, by miracle come alive after all these years.

And a moment later he had looked around his hut, remembered the warm greeting of Mistress Martha and the miller's widow and the old man with whom he used to go fishing sometimes and Doctor Elder in his messy rooms – and the way how unconsciously Sansa had slipped into the role of a noblewoman who did not consort with commoners.

He didn't blame her – how could he when that was what she was born to be?

"I realise what I asked of you is a lot. I should not have been presumptuous. I only thought…" She sighed again. "I was being selfish."

"Not more than anyone else. You thought you wanted – but do you know what you really want?" Sandor had reached the conclusion sometime in the afternoon and it had made him both sad and in an odd way, proud.

"You. I want you."

"You say so. Maybe even think so. But all you want is for someone to want you and care for you for your own sake." Sandor turned to his side and saw her silhouette in the moonlight. He wasn't good with this kind of talk but wanted to at least try to convey to her what he had realised.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Maybe. But not everyone has gone through one betrothal, two marriages and one twisted courtship not because of what they are, but what they represent. Baratheon, Lannister, Baelish and this Hardyng - enough to terrify any woman I'd wager."

Sandor lifted his hand and wondered if she'd shy away from his touch. There was a great warmth in his chest when he looked at her; affection, perhaps something more. He didn't want to hurt her with his words, but if it was for her own good, he might have to.

His fingers met the crown of her head and slid down following the flow of her curls.

She didn't shy away.

XXI – "We have only this time"

"What is it that you mean to say?" Sansa whispered.

Sandor kept on stroking her hair, almost chastely.

"You think that I cared. And I did. I do. But I may not be the only one – if you pay attention." It hurt to say it, but it was a right thing to do.

"How would I know that?! I am still what I am – my circumstances attract all kinds of suitors. There has been a few over the years. Yet every time when one comes to my door bearing gifts, I wonder what it is that he truly wants." She was animated, gesturing into thin air. Lilburne, who had followed her into the room and then settled on the floor, got up and let out a cautious 'woof'.

"The same way you sorted me out. Look them in the eye, show them you can see through them. To hell with social courtesies. If they are the right sort of man, they will meet you eye to eye."

Sansa huffed, part desperate, part angry. Still, she didn't push him away or flinch at his touch.

"And this is your last word? You will not come?"

"I think it is high time for you face your own demons, like I did mine. You are strong enough to do it, I know I - you are of the wolf's blood," Sandor said, his voice hoarse of suppressed emotions whose names he didn't know.

What happened next, surprised him. Sansa, after lying still for a long time digesting his words, turned on her side facing him and inched closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Maybe. I don't know. I think about it later. But I accept that I can't ask you to uproot yourself from everything you have made of your life for my selfish wishes. I couldn't do that for you," she whispered against his throat, just where his beard morphed with the hair on his chest.

Sandor patted him awkwardly on the back. Relief of her understanding flooded him, and yet he was conscious of her proximity and the sensations it caused. He had calculated on her leaving as soon as he told her his decision, and to have her lingering so close was disconcerting.

"You'll see it yourself when you let go of this impossible folly," he uttered, subtly untangling himself from her grip. Surely she would get up next?

"I think of it later. When I must. And I remember what you said." She nuzzled against him, her hand slipping under his shirt – and there was nothing chaste in that. "But I am leaving tomorrow. If you are not following me, this time is all we have. You and me."

Sandor was still unsure – how could she not hate him after what he had just said? – but he didn't spend too much time lingering over it.

He wanted.

Still, he wanted.

Author's Notes: I am sure most of you already saw this coming – but before you bang your laptop shut in frustration, do note that theirs is still a love story – just somewhat unusual. They meant a lot to each other in the past and during the time they were apart, despite the impossibility of their positions; they influenced each other in a profound way and in this story, they finally got the closure they always needed to move ahead with their life. Both Sansa and Sandor are first and foremost individuals and everyone who likes them probably ships them first of all with happiness…which they shall now have (even Sansa once she lets go of her past demons).

One more chapter to go – something a bit different… Thank you for reading! If you feel like it, I would be curious to know what you think of a story that does not end up with the traditional happy ending of the lovers 'living happily together ever after'…