A/N: Please note: this chapter includes the use of ableist and misogynistic slurs as well as verbal abuse. I have placed an asterisk (*) next to the paragraphs so that if you wish to avoid it, you can do so and still enjoy the rest of the fic. :D
Strong arms surrounded Sansa, pulling her tightly against the wall of muscle that was his chest. "Sansa," Sandor's deep Scottish brogue whispered into her ear. "Sansa, I'm home, lass. I'll keep you safe. No one will hurt you again or I'll kill them."
"Sandor!" Sansa breathed out as she reached toward him. "I've missed you so." Her arms wound around his neck as she pulled her husband closer still, resting her cheek on his chest, his warmth filling her heart and giving her a sense of wholeness. When Sansa raised her lips to his, though, she felt as though he were fading from her grasp, the man slipping through her hold.
Desperately the young woman cleaved to his arms, but to no avail; Sandor continued to fade away from her. "No, please don't leave me, Sandor! I-I need you!"
Soft fur began rubbing against her chin, rousing her from her dreams. "Lady," Sansa reluctantly opened her eyes to the wall of grey and white fur that settled heavily on her chest. "You want breakfast, I know, but I'm not ready to get up yet."
Turning on her side, Sansa set the purring cat down and slowly stretched, reaching her arms toward Sandor's empty side and absently patting the space beside her. "Come home to me soon, Sandor." she whispered, wiping her dampened cheeks. "I cannot bear seeing you only in my dreams."
In truth, this particular one had plagued her ever since she first treated Jaime at the veteran's hospital. Concern for her husband's condition had driven Sansa to distraction from that day forward-three weeks ago now-but still, no word from her husband.
Surely Sandor must be better by now. Jaime had said he was doing well-maybe infection set in. For the life of her, she could not understand why Sandor hadn't even called her. Was his PTSD so severe that he was unable to call her? And if so, why didn't the doctors notify her? If Sandor requested them not to call her, though, Sansa knew they would honor the patient's wishes. Shakily Sansa sighed deeply as Elder brother taught her, trying to expel the tempest of anxiety gripping her mind.
Throughout the day, the dream continued to haunt Sansa, and so when she went to work later that day, she felt compelled to tell Jaime about the dream. He listened carefully but didn't say very much as she worked.
She really didn't expect him to comprehend the potential significance of the dreams she had, but still, she could not resist asking him just the same.
"Do you think he's worse-is that why he still hasn't come home?" She asked for what felt like the hundredth time even to Sansa.
"No, Sansa. Brienne called and told me he was fine-at least physically." Jaime shifted uncomfortably. "He's healing up, I mean. Try to relax."
"How about the other, ahem, problem?"
Shrugging, Jaime pursed his lips. "Hard to say."
Frustrated by his lack of openness, Sansa turned the conversation onto Jaime. "I haven't seen Brienne around the hospital. Is she home yet?"
Ducking his head, Jaime's eyes fixed on the window in front of him. "No, but soon."
"Sir, I'm-I'm so sorry. I didn't even think to ask: was Brienne wounded in the fighting too?" Sansa forced the words out, the young woman feeling foolish for not inquiring about Brienne's wellbeing sooner.
"Yes, she caught some debris in the face," Jaime scratched his beard. "It was mostly superficial and she's doing well."
"Forgive me; I just assumed she was well since you said she was coming home soon." Sansa placed her hand on his arm. Jaime glanced up at her as though he were trying to decide if he wanted to answer her. "Is she well?"
Patiently Sansa waited for him to open up while she continued treatment.
"She is, Sansa-in fact she'll be home today." Jaime finally muttered through gritted teeth when Sansa resumed rewrapping his wounds. "She'll probably rest and come to see me tomorrow. At least, that's what I told her to do."
"Does she always do what you tell her?" Sansa teased lightly as she finished up, causing Jaime to laugh out loud.
"Hardly ever." He admitted, his frankness earning a giggle from Sansa. "She's got a big heart, though."
"Well, Sandor cares for her, which says something in itself, doesn't it?" She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, a smile curling on her lips.
Laughingly Jaime nodded. "That it does. The Hound doesn't show his feelings to just anyone."
"She brought Sandor a meal, you know, on the first day he came home." Sansa smiled at the memory as she tucked in his bandages. "Chicken and dumplings. It was delicious and she was so kind, too. I think I'll stop by with something for her tomorrow."
"She'd like that." Jaime remained quiet, absently fingered his fastenings. "It'll do her good, too."
"Well, she's been a good friend to both of us. I'll be glad to go over and see her."
"About Clegane, Sansa, I know it's hard for you because you're so newly married but it would be best to just let him be for a bit," Jaime advised, the man's tone tempered as he went on. "Before they transferred me here, the man was in the foulest mood I've ever seen him in. Sandor's not ready to be home, to leave the war behind in his mind. Can you understand?"
"I don't think it's possible for me to understand, but I will try, for his sake and mine," Sansa swallowed down her tears and waited for him to continue.
"I've been the same way. Even now, I'm struggling but...well, we all have our own way of dealing with it." Jaime sullenly admitted. "Just give him his space."
When Sansa knitted her brows at him, the man further explained: "All Sandor talked about was coming home to you, Sansa. It was all he thought about. He wrote you, while he was there, but he never sent the letters."
"Why?"
"Because he didn't want you to read them and hold on to hope and then if something happened…well, he just couldn't bear the thought of it." Leaning toward her, Jaime continued. "It isn't because he doesn't want to see you or talk to you, Sansa. If I know Sandor, he hasn't called because his recovery is going slower than he thought and he just can't bear your disappointment along with his own."
"Well, then, why can't I go to him?" Sansa angrily pouted through her tears. "I have the money for the trip. And I could care for him myself."
Rubbing his head, Jaime shook his head. "He's not ready yet."
"Well, would you at least tell me why he wouldn't want to see me?" Sansa impatiently demanded.
"A man has his pride, Sansa." He answered simply. "Sometimes that's all he has left after a war."
Sadly she nodded.
"Will you let him come to you, then?"
Her heart ached at his words; knowing that Sandor was suffering and there was nothing she could do about it drove Sansa into even deeper despair. ""Yes. I will do as you say, sir. I-I've written letters to him every day since he left, too," she stuttered out desperately. "Do you think I could at least send them to him? Just so he would have something to read while he recuperates?"
Sighing heavily, Jaime's eyes softened somewhat as he regarded her. "Tell you what: bring them here to me in a sealed box ready to ship and I'll send them to Clegane."
Eagerly Sansa agreed. "Yes, that would be great! Oh, I'll pack them up as soon as I get home." Blushing deeply, Sansa bit her lip to keep her further thoughts to herself: she had written plenty of embarrassingly personal, even intimate things to her husband but as long as the box was sealed, she supposed it wouldn't matter if she gave them to Sandor's former commanding officer.
Grinning wickedly, Jaime watched her closely, the man's brazen stare causing Sansa to redden further still. "Well? You want me to give them to him or not? I won't read them."
"Thank you so much for the kind offer. I'll bring them by later on, after my shift is over," Sansa laughed and then glanced around her and leaned in closer to him. "I really do appreciate you doing this for me, sir, but it but maybe we should keep this between us. I don't think Dr. Pycelle would like it if he saw me bringing a package to you."
"Bugger him," Jaime's green eyes flashed angrily. "What does he know of husbands and wives? You bring whenever you like. I'm not going anywhere."
Shaking her hair out of her eyes, Sansa started to giggle, the sound dissolving into a gasp as two visitors walked into the hospital room.
"Little brother," Jaime called out at the sight of Tyrion waddling in with Joffrey in tow. "I didn't think you'd travel so far to see me. Did Father send you?"
"No, I heard what happened and couldn't wait for news. So, how goes it?" Tyrion eyed Jaime worriedly. "You look quite ill. We'll have to get some of that good southern food to fatten you up."
Glancing at Sansa, Jaime held up his amputation. "I am rather ill, little brother, but I'll gladly take you up on the food offer. There's a barbeque place around the corner that has the best ribs."
Eyes widening, Tyrion turned toward her, his eyes roving over in an almost sad manner. "Miss Stark, what a pleasant surprise. How good it is to see you doing so well."
Joffrey snorted out a laugh, to which Jaime and Tyrion glared at him.
"Thank you, I am very well." Averting her eyes, Sansa made herself busy by arranging her supplies.
"I am certain you have no desire to see us, though."
In spite of herself, after a while she nodded at him. "You speak truly, but I am not unhappy to see you, Mr. Tyrion. And you must believe I would never deny a patient access to their loved ones. As for my reaction, well, I was just surprised to see you here."
After eying Joffrey warily, Tyrion forced a weak smile as he shifted on his feet.
"It was the least he could do, to come and see his older brother," Jaime interjected, his terse laugh doing nothing to break the tension. "What news of Father?"
* "He sent me, Uncle, not the Imp, so you should address me with your questions." Joffrey sneered at Sansa before Tyrion could reply. "I have a few of my own as well, since it seems this shitty hospital has assigned a head case to care for you." His eyes wandered over Sansa in a predatory manner. "Not so crazy after all, are you, my sweet former fiancé? You pulled a good one over us all."
Setting her jaw, Sansa ignored him and pulled up a chair for Tyrion. "Mr. Tyrion, perhaps you would like to sit closer to your brother?" She studiously avoided Joffrey's murderous gaze as she pulled up a step for him.
"Yes, thank you, Miss Stark." Tyrion glared at Joffrey as he settled into his seat. "Your kindness is more than I deserve."
Raising his brow, Jaime leaned closer to his brother. "Sansa here is Miss Stark no longer, brother, for she is now Mrs. Sandor Clegane. Brienne attended the nuptuals."
"Is that right?" Amusement lit up Tyrion's eyes he glanced toward Joffrey, whose countenance paled at the news. "Interesting. Clegane is a most uncommon name-"
"Yes, that is true, and I am happy to confirm that your instincts are correct, Mr. Tyrion," Sansa folded Jaime's blankets carefully, smiling broadly as she spoke. "Sandor Clegane and I were married last October and I am most happy with him."
His face twisting into a furious scowl, Joffrey gaped at her, his face reddening in fury. Steadfastly Sansa refused to acknowledge his presence and calmly continued about her work, all the while praying to her father.
"Well, isn't that interesting?" Tyrion smiled broadly while raising his brow at Jaime. "Let me offer you my sincerest congratulations, my dear." He held out his hand to her, which Sansa hesitantly accepted.
"It was a beautiful ceremony. Unfortunately your father interrupted us for the mission," Sansa went on, "But I suppose it was most necessary." She smiled at Jaime then, who caught her teasing manner and winked at her. Her easy behavior enraged Joffrey further, for he paced the room like a caged animal but Sansa swallowed her fear, refusing to allow his presence to control her.
"Ah," Tyrion nodded, "Well, Father was never one for sentimentality."
"Is there anything else you need, Major Lannister?" Sansa smiled sweetly.
"No, I'm good, thanks," Jaime snickered. "Unless you want to bring me some of those ribs."
"I will bring them for you gladly when I return," Sansa plumped his pillow one last time. "Now, if you gentlemen will l excuse me, I have other patients to attend."
* When she started to leave the room, Joffrey blocked her path. "And just where do you think you're going, you worthless bitch?" The young man screeched in fury, finding his voice at last. His face was blood red while his eyes gleamed with hatred as he jabbed his finger in her face."You think you can just walk away from me with no explanation? Who the fuck do you think you're playing with?"
Calmly Sansa stared levelly at him. "I owe you nothing. In fact, it is you who owes me, for I have a restraining order against you and could have had you arrested the moment you walked in here. Step aside and let me pass or find yourself arrested, one; your choice."
"You-you-"Joffrey seethed at the top of his voice.
"Come on, nephew, she's right, you know," Tyrion hustled him into the corner of the tiny room. "Leave the woman alone, for fuck's sake-she's caring for your Uncle Jaime, you know!"
* "But she lied to us-she left me in King's Landing, all the while acting batshit crazy-"
"Who can blame her-haven't you tormented her enough?" Jaime growled low. "Just shut your stupid mouth for once in your life, will you? Let her pass."
"Fuck off, the both of you!" Angrily Joffrey knocked over the tray of instruments onto the floor, the clamor bringing two MP s into the room. Inadvertently Sansa jumped at the noise.
"Is there a problem, Major?" The huge military policemen asked after cautiously surveying the room. "What happened here?"
The second officer, noticing Sansa's distress, asked: "Are you alright, ma'am?"
"Yes, thank you," Sansa hurried toward the door beside the MPs, while Jaime glared at his nephew.
"There is no problem, is there, nephew?"
Not waiting for Joffrey's reply, Sansa left the room. Her actions seemingly setting the young man off further. "Come back here!" He shouted after her.
* "Sansa Stark, once Ned Stark's highborn daughter, is the Hound's bitch now!" Joffrey hollered as she walked away from him. "How can you stand to look at his ugly face when he fucks you? You've made me laughingstock, you lying slut, you know that? Did you hear me? So far you've kept your family hidden, but I'll find them yet! You haven't even begun to learn what I'm capable of, you little whore!"
Refusing to turn around, Sansa kept her pace while holding her head high. Behind her, she heard the MPs dragging him out of the hospital room as Joffrey continued screaming his threats. Darting into the lounge, Sansa hurriedly dialed Meera Reed, the officer who took the report when Joffrey assaulted her at school.
"Pick up, pick up…" Sansa whispered as she waited for her to answer the phone.
"This is Officer Reed," Meera answered in a bored tone. "May I help you?"
"Officer Reed, this is Sansa Stark-Joffrey was just at my work and-"
"What is it, Sansa?" Meera asked. "Please, I can't understand you, you're talking too fast. Take a deep breath and then tell me all about it."
"Joffrey Baratheon is back." Sansa spoke as she exhaled.
"Did he come to your school again?"
"No, he came to my work. His uncle was injured in the war, and he showed up while I was tending his uncle at the VA hospital. He was furious."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Yes..." Sansa drew another deep breath before the words came spilling out of her. "He called me a bitch and a whore, and he said I humiliated him by getting married and blocked my way. He said he would find my family and then said I didn't know what he was capable of. He was so loud the MPs came and took him out of the hospital screaming at the top of his lungs."
"Good, that's good that they came and it's good they saw his behavior." Meera replied, the young woman's scribbling audible even through the phone. "That means the military police will write up a report on the incident, pass the report on to us, and will keep him barred from the hospital from now on. I'll be by the hospital later for a copy."
"Okay, I'll tell the administrator to expect you," Sansa's voice trembled as she spoke. "I'm just glad I have that restraining order-"
"Sansa, listen to me now," Meera interrupted. "I don't mean to frighten you, but that order expired three months ago."
"What?!" She shouted into the phone while a fresh wave of panic washed over her. "Oh my god! How can it just expire? It isn't like he's changed-he's still dangerous and his behavior proves it!"
"I know, Sansa, and I'm sorry. That's why I need a copy of the MP's report of the incident today so we can start building a new case against him. Do you have any relatives that can you can stay with?"
Her mind flickered to her family, the remaining survivors were all in hiding, excepting Jon, and Sandor was in the hospital. "He doesn't know where I live now, and besides, I have no intention of allowing him to chase me from my home. What am I going to do in the meantime?" Sansa's stomach lurched as she spoke. "Maybe we can go to court today for a new restraining order?"
"Unfortunately Joffrey's outburst today is not enough. You have to have another physical confrontation with the suspect or else we cannot petition for another restraining order." Meera calmly explained. "His behavior has to prove he is a threat to your safety."
Rolling her eyes, Sansa muttered irritably: "His past behavior isn't enough?"
"No, Sansa, I'm sorry."
"So let me get this straight," Sansa spat out. "Until he hits me again or does far worse, I can't have another restraining order."
"That's the law, Sansa. I admit it has yet to catch up with the needs of stalking and domestic violence victims."
Angrily Sansa hung up the phone and slumped against the wall, rubbing her temples and praying to her father while she replayed Joffrey's words over and over again in her mind.
At least he confirmed that despite their reach, the Lannisters haven't been able to find my family. Ever since her escape, Sansa's worst fear was that Joffrey would discover their hiding places and kill her surviving siblings to punish her. It was the sole reason that, no matter how hard things became, Sansa refused to call them, refused to risk exposing them.
She wondered what they were doing now, if they were happy and doing well. The last she heard, Arya was with her boyfriend Gendry on the Lakota reservation in South Dakota, while Bran and Rickon were with their father's Aleut friend Osha somewhere deep in the Alaskan wilderness. Even though Sansa missed them dearly, she was grateful that they stayed in their respective hideouts, well beyond the Lannister grasp.
Dr. Pycelle found her there in the lounge. "Ms. Clegane, are you quite alright?"
"Yes-I'm just tired," She wearily stood up, smoothing down the front of her uniform. "I'm sorry, doctor; I'll get back to work now."
"That won't be necessary," the man glared at her. "Major Lannister has ordered you to go home for the day."
She should have known the Lannisters wouldn't tolerate the MPs removing Joffrey. "Am I in trouble?" Sansa worriedly asked.
"No, quite the contrary: it seems you have unwittingly made a friend out of the major," the doctor raised his brow. "He expressed concern over your wellbeing and he wishes you to get some rest. Pack your things; you have the rest of the day off."
"Oh," Sansa let out a relieved breath. "That is most kind of him. I'll see you tomorrow, doctor." Hurriedly she gathered her belongings and headed to the coffee shop.