A/N: The medications listed here are very complex and must not be used without a doctor's close supervision. Please do not consider my mentioning them by name as a recommendation for treatment for PTSD-only a licensed professional can advise on treatment.

This has been one of my favorite fics to write, you guys have made it so much fun and really inspired me! I know many would like to see it continue on, but I have more fics in my head than time to write, and this felt like the right time to end this story. Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story :D

Afterward Sandor didn't immediately withdraw from her. He clung to Sansa instead with a quiet desperation while his tears flowed freely. Though it pained her to see him thus, Sansa felt a bit relieved, for she knew it wasn't healthy for Sandor to hold in his emotions with the stringent reserve to which he was accustomed.

Not knowing what else to do, Sansa continued stroking Sandor's hair until she felt him relax in her arms, until his tears eventually subsided and his breathing slowed in time with her own. Then he began to kiss her, lightly at first and then gradually more passionately until Sansa felt him harden inside her once more.

Sighing softly, Sansa let out a low mewling sound, giving herself over to the pleasure of feeling him inside her as Sandor positioned her in his lap and began rolling his hips. He held her gaze the second time he loved her, his movements measured and deliberate and so tender that tears filled Sansa's eyes. It was so very intimate that Sansa felt as though she could see into his soul; and though it was as intense a feeling as she had ever known, she couldn't look away, didn't want to look away from Sandor.

"It's alright, love, we're together now," Sandor whispered softly as he languidly moved within her. "And we have the rest of our lives ahead of us." Through her haze of desire, the only Sansa response she could give was to nod and tighten her arms around him while her pleasure steadily climbed and eventually crested with his movements. Her release left Sansa with a deep abiding satisfaction that transcended the physical. Sandor must have felt it as well, for he followed soon after, emptying himself into her with a long moan before he gathered her close to his chest and cradled her in his arms protectively.

Satiated, Sansa happily snuggled against him, leisurely running her fingers through the black hair on his chest. Sandor, however, remained restless, the muscles in his chest and arms tense under her hands despite her gentle ministrations.

"I should have come to you earlier," Sandor brokenly rasped, breaking the silence. His words were tinged with bitterness. "Fuck me, I should have pulled my shit together and come to you."

Frowning, Sansa tipped his face up to her own and stared into his eyes questioningly, wondering if Sandor had, in fact, heard about Joffrey's return. She didn't imagine Loras would keep it a secret from him but neither did she expect him to call her husband while he was convalescing. Perhaps it wasn't Loras who alerted him; Jaime or Brienne were also distinct possibilities. Briefly Sansa wondered what he would think of the way the Tyrells handled him, but she remained silent, instead allowing him to lead the conversation.

"You could have been hurt. You needed me and I wasn't here."

"No, Sandor, no; you mustn't say such things. You did what you needed to do to heal," Sansa tenderly caressed his cheek while keeping her voice calm and even, "you don't get to be sorry about that."

Shifting, Sandor averted his eyes. "You were right, little bird, about the bad dreams, the flashbacks. It was worse, much worse, going back the second time." He fidgeted with the blanket, absently pulling on the fringe. "I-I bloody well don't know how to tell you this, but the doctors, well, they had to…"

"They had to what?" Alarmed, Sansa raised up to look at him. "What did the doctors need to do? Please tell me, love." When still Sandor hesitated, she added, "I love you, Sandor. No matter what you tell me, I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know that you're getting the help you need."

"The doctors had to…medicate me for it, when I first came to the hospital for the wound in my leg." Abruptly he sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. "Truth is, the MP's had to hold me down. Took six men to do it."

Sansa could see he had both hands clenched into tight fists, which he squeezed and released while his back muscles constricted with tension. He was waiting for her response, Sansa understood, and she desperately wanted to reassure him.

Crawling up behind him, she settled back on her knees and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her nude body against his own. Her garters and hose were the only things she still had on, but Sansa pushed aside her bashfulness, rested her cheek on Sandor's neck as she whispered: "Well, I'm glad they gave you something to help. Do you feel like it's working?"

His leg was still bandaged, and the nurse in her was dying to know which medications her husband was given but Sansa held back, though concern gripped her chest so tightly she could scarcely take a breath.

"Aye, some." Sandor curtly allowed, rubbing his hand over his face before he turned toward her. "Ask me. You know you want to."

"Okay." Sansa soothingly massaged her hands in a rhythmic motion over his shoulders and down his bare chest. "What are they giving you?"

"Risperidone and Lithium," Sandor sighed heavily, as though sharing this information with her lifted a great weight from him. "There was no other way to control the nightmares, or the flashbacks."

Hearing that he was being treated with two such powerful drugs brought a deep sadness to her heart, though Sansa could not deny it was also accompanied by a great sense of relief. "At least outwardly, the medications seem to have helped you, Sandor, for you look much more relaxed." She smiled at him over his shoulder, nuzzled into his neck and then kissed his cheek. "And so well rested, too. I've not seen you this way since we first met."

Absently Sandor leaned into her attentions and rubbed his thigh. "I sleep through the night now and I don't dive under furniture every time I hear a helicopter anymore." He smirked self-consciously then. "But I'll have to continue taking them a while under Elder brother's care. And I'll need to go counselling, too."

"We can go together, if you like." Sansa breathed into his ear, hoping her husband would go along with it. "You have my full support, my love, you know that."

To her surprise, Sandor nodded and patted the arm around his waist. "Aye. I want you by my side, lass. I…I need you." Sheepishly he tried to hide his face, but Sansa leaned forward just in time to see a small smile curl onto his lips.

Hearing her husband admit (albeit tersely) that he both wanted and needed her with him made Sansa's heart soar. "I'll arrange my work schedule tomorrow, then."

Unable to contain herself, Sansa bounced on the bed behind him until Sandor turned around and gathered her onto his lap. "Happy to go see the Hound finally tamed, are you?"

"No, Sandor, you misunderstand me." Sansa brushed his hair from his eyes. "You've sacrificed so much for others that it makes me very happy to see you put yourself first for once. I'm so happy to be the one you want by your side while you do it, too."

After he studied her closely, his eyes once more heatedly roamed over her body while his fingers gently traced over her curves. "Enough with this, now. I'm not finished enjoying my wife. Let's go break in that new tub."

Lifting her into his arms, Sandor then carried his giggling bride into the bathroom and settled her down on the edge of the tub. Jumping up, Sansa yowled as the chill of the porcelain met her flesh, bringing a sharp laugh from her husband as he turned on the faucet. They leisurely nipped and kissed one another while they waited for it to fill. Even though she was somewhat sensitive as well as satisfied from their passionate lovemaking, feeling Sandor's large warm hands slowly caressing her skin sent another pang of lust throughout Sansa's body.

Deliberately Sandor moved away and knelt before her, running his hands over the silken material of her stockings. "You look so hot wearing these and nothing else," he rasped while grinning wickedly at her. "Might be you should do it more often." Carefully he unclasped her garters and rolled down her stockings one at a time.

"Maybe I will," she daringly whispered, her words at once drawing a hearty laugh from him. It made her self-conscious to have Sandor hungrily staring up at her from in between her thighs as though she were his prey, with her most private place exposed to him in the bright light of day. Gently Sandor placed small kisses on the inside of her thighs as he exposed more skin, first on her right leg and then her left before he removed her stockings completely. Flustered, Sansa could only smile at him, all the while a deep blush spread from her cheeks down to her chest. To her great embarrassment, she began panting in a most unladylike manner as he kissed his way up toward the apex of her thighs.

"Hmm you look good enough to eat. I want a taste of my sweet wife," Sandor growled against her skin his fingers lightly pressed against her folds, opening her to him while he began kissing her intimately.

Sansa had never felt anything so good, of that she was certain, but in the back of her mind it occurred to her that they had not bathed since their last lovemaking. Would it offend Sandor, or even matter to him? It didn't seem to, but she was nevertheless scandalized by the thought. When Sansa opened her mouth to speak, though, she was only able to utter a long moan as Sandor's tongue finally traced over her woman's place.

"So sweet and tender and wet for me. Gods…" he groaned before dipping his tongue inside her slit while his fingers circled her clit.

The feeling was so exquisite that Sansa moaned and arched her back deeply against the tile, the coldness of the surface all but forgotten. Sandor continued touching and tasting her, until suddenly a flush of warmth spread all throughout her body as she found her release. Chuckling, Sandor continued licking and flicking his tongue against her until her breathing slowed and her entire body relaxed.

Dazedly Sansa sat up and noticed he had not been satisfied. "Let me," she whispered against his stomach before she kissed and tongued the head of his cock. Staring up at him, Sansa then drew the entirety of his hardened, thick shaft into her mouth while she tried to recall Margaery's lewd yet extremely helpful directions on the technique men found most pleasing.

"Good gods, little bird," Sandor groaned, his whole body trembling as he did so. She held the base of him firmly and bobbed her head up and down his cock, sucking deeply and flicking him with her tongue as he had done to her, all the while gently caressing his testicles. His hands found their way into her hair, caressed her head and face as he panted and thrust into her mouth and cried out her name. Sansa loved having him at her mercy, loved pleasing him, loved giving him pleasure in this most intimate way and she could not take her eyes off of him.

"Sansa, stop: I'm coming," he moaned low, his entire body tensing as he spoke. "I don't-"

Ignoring his warning, she kept on working him, kissing and suckling his member until Sandor thrust his hips, plunging deeper into her mouth, his powerful orgasm wracking his body while she sucked hard o n him one last time and then swallowed. Gasping for air, he leaned against the wall of the bathroom, laughing softly. "Seven hells, where did you learn such?" He gasped out while helping her to her feet.

"Margaery told me how to please you." Sansa answered matter-of-factly while dabbing her mouth with a hand towel just as ladylike as if she had just finished a fine meal. "I guess this means I was a quick study."

"Bloody hells," Sandor rasped as lifted her into the tub, his eyes twinkling as he regarded her. "You are a woman of many surprises, wife. Never stop being so spirited."

Smiling, Sansa liberally sprinkled dried lavender and sage into the steaming water. "To wash away the bad," she explained. "And make way for the good. You know, while you were gone, it occurred to me that there are great deal many things that you and I don't know about each other."

"Like what?" Sandor turned on the jets and settled Sansa against his chest while the bubbles filled the tub.

"Well, I don't know your favorite colors." Sansa looked up at him.

He chuckled darkly. "Black and yellow. Yours?"

"I like all shades of pink and red," she glanced up at him, waiting for his reaction. "But fuchsia is my favorite."

"I figured as much," he grinned at her, the movement twisting the burned side of his face. "What's your favorite food?"

"Um, lemoncakes," Sansa answered. "Yours?"

"Chicken fried steak." He growled out a sigh as though he could taste the very dish of which he spoke just by mentioning it by name.

"Really?" Sansa clasped her hands together excitedly. "I know how to make that. We'll have it for supper tomorrow: what say you?"

"Sounds good." Sandor smiled once more while tracing the back of his index finger over her cheek. It came into Sansa's mind that this was one of the few times his smile reached his eyes, for the normally storminess in his gaze had been replaced by a certain unnamable lightness, and their usual deep grey color correspondingly lightened as well. "What else do you want to know about me, wife, while you have me all sudsy and naked?"

Blushing, Sansa lowered her eyes. "Do you want children?"

"Aye, a whole passel, but not for a while yet." Sandor soothingly ran his hands over her skin as he spoke. "Do you?"

Quietly Sansa nodded, though inwardly she thrilled at this information.

Sandor had a faraway look in his eye, as though he was trying to picture their future offspring in his mind's eye. "We need to learn how to be together first, I think. Maybe in a few years or so, we can try," he nodded thoughtfully, "or maybe more; we'll see how the therapy with Elder brother works out for us. What do you think?"

"That suits me fine." Sansa contentedly snuggled against him. She, too, wanted to establish her career before they started a family, and she certainly wanted to work out all of their issues first as well, so her husband's words pleased her greatly.

Sandor pulled her back flush against his chest before snaking his hand up to her neck, turning her face toward him. His voice lowered as he spoke: "I know about Joffrey, Sansa."

Her face fell then, for all her previous happiness melted away at the mention of her former fiancé. "The way you spoke after our lovemaking made me fear that you did." Anxiously Sansa tried to shift away from him, but Sandor held onto her gently but firmly.

"And why should you fear such?" Sandor pointedly asked her, his eyes staring at her with an intensity that made Sansa squirm. "Tell me truly."

Drawing a deep breath, Sansa whispered, "I feared telling you because of the way you've always said you would kill anyone who hurt me. You've always had so much anger in you just simmering under the surface ever since I've known you that I had no doubt in my mind that you would make good on your words and…" She stopped abruptly, the young woman losing her thought while trying to gauge his reaction. Sandor merely continued to stare at her with the same calm expression in his eyes, so she continued: "I was frightened more for you than for myself."

When she glanced back up at him, Sansa saw that Sandor's entire face had softened at her words. "Little bird," he rasped into her neck, kissing her there. "I never meant to scare you."

"But you did," Sansa went on. "And I didn't want you to end up in jail."

He raised his brow. "And what makes you think I would end up in jail?" Sandor chuckled. "Traveling around the world has taught me a thing or two, Sansa, believe that."

She did believe it, and it made her all the gladder that Sandor had been gone when Joffrey decided to show up. Her curiosity got the better of her. "Who told you?"

"Loras, of course," Sandor began soaping up her back, the gentleness of his touch belying the hard truth behind his words. "As well he should have. I'm your husband, by god. I told him to look after you while I was gone and he did just that."

Her mind suddenly began spinning. The oleander was cut into the heroin Joffrey took. Heroin comes from poppies, and poppies come from Afghanistan. Sitting up, she turned to face him. "Yes, I remember what you told him. Did you aid him in any way?" She raised her brows at him.

"Might be," Sandor shrugged. "Could be."

The realization and magnitude of Sandor's actions took her breath away. So he kept his word after all; Sandor did protect me-even from far away, he protected me.

"But Loras and Mrs. Olenna never mentioned you…"

"They wouldn't. They are good friends to you and I, and people who don't forget a kindness, lass."

They did it for me, and also for Sandor because he stood up for Loras at Renly's funeral even though it cost him his rank. Sansa turned to encircle her arms around him, pressing her body against his in a tight embrace and whispered as her tears began to fall: "Thank you, my love. You saved me. Even from far away, you kept me safe."

"On our first date, I swore to you that I would keep you safe, that there wasn't anything I wouldn't do to keep you safe, remember?" Rhythmically he rubbed her back as he waited for her reply.

Too moved to speak, Sansa wordless nodded into the cradle of his neck.

"A Hound will die for you, but never lie to you. You keep this between us, now." Sandor rasped into her ear while running his hands over her shoulders soothingly. "We'll not speak of it anymore. Swear it."

"I swear it." She kissed his cheek and rested against this shoulder with a sigh.

She was safe at last, Sandor was home and safe, and Joffrey was gone just as her father promised. No longer would they need to wait for one another, for their whole lives were ahead of them now, and the future was theirs at last.