46. Nowhere Left To Run.
Pregnant. Sansa was pregnant.
As soon as the doctor gave the news, silence followed his words. Joffrey, Tywin and Cersei stared at the doctor still as statues, not knowing how to react. Eventually, each one of them showed signs that they had finally processed the information in their heads and were reacting. Tywin Lannister raised his eyebrows, surprise evident all over his factions. Cersei Lannister gaped; she was indignant, but whoever looked at her would mistake her reaction for that of surprise and shock. The doctor smiled again, believing himself to be the deliverer of good news and misinterpreting the shocked expressions of the people in front of him.
Everyone looked at the President then. All color had drained from Joffrey's face, making him look paler than a ghost. His eyes were wide, and disbelief was written all over his face. Just for a brief second it looked as if he believed that some kind of miracle had occurred. He gaped and tried to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. He coughed lightly and looked at his mother and his grandfather. As soon as he looked at them though, his little bubble bursted, making the thought that he had had for a second that maybe a miracle had happened disappear. When he saw the look on his mother's and grandfather's faces he realized the truth, he was reminded of the reality. And then he truly realized what the doctor's words meant, and all the color returned to his face immediately, making him become red with rage.
Pregnant. His wife was pregnant, and he couldn't have children...
Joffrey closed his hands into furious fists, but he quickly realized that his attitude was going to be suspicious and he relaxed. He cleared his throat and softened the expression on his face before looking at the doctor again.
"Pregnant?" he repeated, as if he wanted to know that he hadn't heard wrong.
The doctor nodded.
"Yes, she is pregnant. She is three months along."
"Three m-!" Joffrey almost yelled, but he shut himself up by putting his hand on his mouth. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He stared at the ceiling, and then he stared at the floor, and he began laughing. It was a cold, low, harsh, dark laugh. From where he was, Sandor could see the wrath in his eyes. "Three months... And she didn't know?"
"Apparently not," the doctor said, shaking his head. "Sometimes women are pregnant and they don't know, which was the case of Mrs Baratheon. It has been quite the surprise for her as well. Now, Mr President, your wife needs a lot of care. Her pregnancy shouldn't be complicated, but the amount of emotional distress that she is experiencing at the moment could be bad for her. These are going to be very hard time because of what happened this morning, and and she is going to need a lot of support. She should rest and feel comforted by the family, she needs to know that she is not alone and that everything is going to be alright."
"Yes, yes... Of course..." Joffrey nodded. "Can I- Can I see her?"
"Sure," the doctor nodded, and invited Joffrey to go with him. Joffrey followed the doctor and both of them disappeared behind a corner, leaving the Lannisters and the bodyguards behind.
Sandor was the one that was still paralyzed, though he had managed to mask his shock as indifference. The doctor's words reverberated in his mind like the sound of a cannon.
Sansa is pregnant, he thought over and over again, and he felt like he was about to suffocate.
He didn't know how he felt, or rather how he was supposed to feel. He wanted to feel happy, but he couldn't! How could he? Half the Starks had just been killed, Sansa could have died earlier that day, she was being forced back into her hell of a life with the murder of her family, she had tried to escape and failed, and now she was going to have a child that Joffrey knew with complete certainty that was not his.
My child, Sandor seemed to realize that for the first time. He had been focusing only on the fact that Sansa was pregnant and he hadn't thought until then that he was the father. He was going to have a child with Sansa.
He had fucked up.
How did this happen?! he exclaimed in his mind, completely and utterly confused. He had been so careful! At the beginning of the relationship Sansa and he had been reckless, and after she was married they were almost completely carefree because they didn't think that there was any risk if something like that happened. But after they discovered that Joffrey was sterile they had been extremely careful because they new that a single mistake would mean that they were doomed.
Sandor cursed under his breath, and it took a lot of effort for him not to punch the wall. Something had gone wrong, they hadn't been as careful as they thought they had, and now Sandor was terrified. Joffrey had gone to see Sansa. What was he going to do to her? What was he going to do to their child?! Joffrey had already murdered many people that day, and he had already tried to kill Sansa as well. He was impulsive and violent, and Sandor feared the worst.
Without caring about the puzzled looks that everyone else shot him, he stormed down the corridor in the direction in which the doctor and Joffrey had disappeared.
Sansa was lying on the hospital bed, alone in a small room. She had been unconscious for some time, and the last thing that she remembered had been the darkness inside of Gregor Clegane's car, the sound of Sandor's angry and worried voice, blood, and pain. Then nothing. When she was woken up she wasn't bleeding anymore, though there was still a light ache in her belly, but nothing too bad. There had been a doctor there that told her that she had had a small hemorrhage, but that everything was okay. Then he had mentioned a baby. When Sansa had been confused and asked what baby he was talking about, the doctor told her that she was three months pregnant. Sansa had been so shocked that she hadn't been able to say anything until the doctor left the room. Now there she was, alone and surrounded by silence except for the beeping sound of the machines next to her.
Sansa looked down at her belly. It was still mostly flat, though she had noticed over the past couple of weeks that her jeans appeared to be tighter than before. She had blamed that on a bad diet and on stress and she had not even thought about the possibility of being pregnant. Now, however, she wanted to slap herself. How could she have been so stupid!
But there weren't any signs, she thought as she gently put her hands on her stomach. The gesture at first seemed strange to her, even though it was so normal and simple. Slowly, she caressed her belly while looking at it fascinated. She was scared, yes, she was terrified, but at the same time she was happy. She felt a weird and sad version of happiness. She didn't know what she was going to do, and she knew that there would be terrible consequences for her pregnancy, but what was done was done. She was pregnant, she was going to have a baby, and she wanted to be strong... But it was so difficult.
She continued looking at her belly and caressing it gently with her hands. She couldn't feel anything underneath her skin, but there was a small human being growing inside of her. As unbelievable as it seemed, it was true.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered then, while she felt that a tear rolled down her face. She was feeling sad again. "I'm so sorry that in bringing you into such a world..." she apologized to the the being inside of her, her future child. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt the need to apologize to him. Or her. "I'm sorry that I can't be with your father. I'm sorry that the man who everyone will believe to be your father is a monster. I'm sorry that I couldn't take you away, that I can't give you a better life..."
As the words left her mouth, more and more tears streamed down her face until she was sobbing. She moved one of her hands away from her belly to wipe them away, and she closed her eyes to try to stop crying. She had to stop crying! It was making her upset, and that was bad for the baby.
"I'm so sorry..." she sobbed again. She took a deep breath and began to calm down after saying that, feeling that she had already said what she had to say.
She didn't hear the door opening and someone coming inside the room. A voice startled her then, making her gasp and almost jump on the hospital bed.
"Oh, you are going to be sorry indeed," Joffrey told her. He was looking at her from the other side of the room, next to the door. Sansa felt terror feeling her as she saw Joffrey's green eyes glaring at her full of wrath, but her terror was quickly replaced by anger after remembering why she was in that hospital in the first place. It had all been because of him and what he had done...
"You killed them," she suddenly muttered. The hatred in her voice surprised her, but it didn't stop her. She sat up on the bed, forgetting about what the doctor had told her about resting. "You killed them!"
The door of the room was closed, so no one except Joffrey heard what she said. Her husband smirked cruelly and rolled his eyes.
"Yes, yes, I killed them," he said, taking a few steps toward the hospital bed and Sansa. "Quit the drama. You knew it was going to happen sooner or later."
"You said that you wouldn't hurt them!"
"Yes, that was until it became very inconvenient for me to keep your brother alive," Joffrey hissed. He wasted no time pretending that the crash had been an accident, for he knew that his wife knew him well enough already to not believe it. "You were supposed to die too."
Those words made Sansa shudder. She had been horrified before, when she realized that she should have died. She still hadn't shaken off the guilt that she felt for having survived while her mother and her brother and Talisa had died, but now she felt even worse than before upon realizing that, had she died, she wouldn't have died alone.
"But of course, you had to go ahead and spoil everything..." Joffrey hissed. He reached the hospital bed and he sat on the edge next to Sansa. She tried to move away, but Joffrey grabbed her wrist and kept her in place next to him. "If you had died everything would have been perfect! But here you are, alive, and still a pain in my ass."
"Let me go, you monster!" she cried, but Joffrey only tightened his grip on her wrist.
"Why did you get off that plane?" Joffrey asked. He really wanted to know why his perfect plan had failed. Sansa didn't reaping, which made him anger. "Why did you get off the plane?!"
Sansa didn't reply. She couldn't reply. What was she going to say, that she had wanted to go to the airport to meet with Sandor and run away with him? She couldn't do that, it would mean Sandor's death sentence. When Joffrey pulled from her arm, demanding an answer, Sansa spat on his face. Joffrey let go of her arm, completely surprised by that unexpected attack that was so unlike Sansa. She had never done something like that, but she was not the polite little proper lady that she had been before, and she defend ended herself now with whatever she could. Joffrey wiped the spot out of his face with his sleeve, and he chuckled.
"Okay..." he murmured, looking at Sansa. "It's okay. It doesn't matter... Because you are going to be a better wife than you have ever been before."
It wasn't a request, it was an order. Sansa could see the threatening glimmer in Joffrey's eyes, the promise of a worse punishment than she could ever imagine should she not do as Joffrey pleased.
"Think about it this way. You still have family left. I can't kill them, there have been too many accidents... But I can make terrible things happen to them if you dare to say so much as a single word to anyone about what really happened this morning."
"They will find out," Sansa said then. "I don't have to say anything. Everyone will know that you provoked that accident."
"And how will they know? The same way that they knew that I killed your daddy?" Joffrey mocked her.
Suddenly, Joffrey put his hand on Sansa's belly. She tensed up and almost stopped breathing; her heart beat fast in her chest, frightened, and her stomach twisted, disgusted.
Get your hands off my child, she wanted to scream at him, but she didn't. She looked at him, wondering if the doctor had told him that she was pregnant. She supposed that he had, because if not why would Joffrey be touching her like that then? She didn't know what Joffrey was planning to do with her baby, but it couldn't be anything good. He knew that the child wasn't his. Oh my God, what if he finds out about Sandor...? He can't find out about Sandor, he can't!
But Sansa only ever spent time with Sandor. If Joffrey didn't suspect the bodyguard of being the baby's father, then who would he suspect of? Much to Sansa's horror, Sandor was the only obvious suspect.
Joffrey continued with his hand on her belly. She feared that he would do something to her, but he didn't. He just stayed there without moving, without doing anything; he stared fixedly at her belly for the longest time, and Sansa was starting to feel more confused than afraid.
"I guess today brought many surprises..." Joffrey murmured then, more to himself than to Sansa. "I never thought that you would end up being such a... Such a whore!"
He laughed then, as if all that was just a bad but very funny joke. Sansa remained silent and with a severe expression. She did not feel offended by her husband's words, and she just allowed him to continue laughing while he touched her belly and looked at it. He shook his head and chuckled.
"I just can't believe it... You got pregnant..." he murmured. There was a bit of admiration in his voice, and Sansa did not understand why he was speaking to her like that. "I have to admit it, it takes a certain kind of courage to do that after what Margaery did."
Sansa shuddered again, remembering how she had discovered a furious Joffrey holding a gun in their bedroom after he found out that Garrett was not his son, and how she had sent Sandor to help the woman and her baby escape the country before they were murdered. She couldn't run away from Joffrey like Margaery had...
Joffrey saw the fear in Sansa's face and chuckled again, amused by he dread that Sansa was feeling while thinking that something bad would happen to her and her baby as punishment for what she had done.
"Who is the father?" he asked then on a more serious note, and Sansa froze. He waited for her to answer, but when she didn't he repeated the question. "Sansa, who is the father?"
She remained silent. She would not, under any circumstances, confess that Sandor had been her lover since over a year and a half ago, and that he was the father of her unborn child. Sansa would never put Sandor in such danger...
When Joffrey realized that Sansa was not going to speak he clenched his jaw, growing slightly more irritated with each passing second even though he had been laughing before, but the laugh had been such a facade that could not hide the desire for murder in his green eyes.
"Who is it? Don't tell me now that you don't know, you can't be that much of a whore!" he hissed.
Again, silence. Sansa looked down at the sheets of the hospital bed while she felt the weight of Joffrey's glare on her. Finally the man have up and scoffed.
"Well, it doesn't matter," he said, rubbing his face with his hand. "Three months ago you were away on tour, so you could have fucked anybody... Some stupid fan, the dancers... Or did your idiot of an agent finally manage to get in your pants?"
"No!" she immediately exclaimed, disgusted and horrified.
"Not Baelish, then," Joffrey murmured. "Don't worry, sooner or later I will find out the truth... Maybe Clegane knows, since he spends the entire fucking day following you around."
Sansa flinched when she heard Sandor's name, afraid that maybe then Joffrey would stop to think for a second and realize that the bodyguard was her lover, but nothing happened. Joffrey looked at her, and then he looked at her belly one more time. Sansa wondered what thoughts were roaming that dark and twisted mind. She had seen so many horrible things happening because of Joffrey that she feared that he was planning terrible things again.
"Don't worry," he said then as if he had heard her thoughts. "I won't make you abort it. No one besides Doctor Qyburn knows about my little problem, so we will tell everyone that we are going to be parents. It will be a spark of joy for the people in these... dark times," Joffrey said, laughing at the horrified and pained expression on Sansa's face after he reminded her with those words of the events of that morning. "It seems that in the end you have made me a favor. You can thank your God that I'm in a good mood today and that I'm taking this in the positive way, or else I would be ruling that bastard out of you right now."
Sansa cried when she heard him saying those hateful words. Before she could say anything back to Joffrey or curse him or hit him, her husband stood up from the hospital bed and walked towards the closed door of the room.
"You will spend the night here today," Joffrey informed her as he made his way to the door. His tone made it clear that there was no room to contradict him and that Sansa had to do as he said. "Tomorrow, when you are better, we will travel to Winterfell, and the day after we will attend the funeral. You will do exactly as I tell you at every moment, is that clear?"
Slowly, Sansa nodded. Why say anything? She was powerless against Joffrey, and in her current situation she was more vulnerable than she had ever been. Satisfied by the nod, Joffrey opened the door and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Sansa alone again.
She thought she would be able to breath relieved once Joffrey was gone; she certainly should be relieved that things had gone as they had, for they could have been much worse. Joffrey could have guessed the truth about Sandor and Sansa, and he could have reacted worse that he had and he could have devised some terrible plan to punish Sansa. Instead, Joffrey just wanted everything to go back to normal; to have Sansa as a trophy wife and terrorize her into staying with him and being loyal to him and keep his secrets, and to have power, and now he wanted to pose the child as his. Sansa scoffed. Joffrey had, in the end, gotten what he needed to give to the people the image of a perfect family, even though it was all fake.
However, Sansa could not be relieved. Yes, things could have been much worse than they were, but that didn't take away from the fact that the situation that she was caught in was absolutely and undeniably terrible. Her brother and her mother were dead, leaving her and her child with next to no protection at all. They were completely vulnerable to Joffrey's will. Joffrey was a hand made of darkness, and they were all puppets whose strings were manipulated at his pleasure. And, if he so wished, Joffrey could cut one of the strings and doom whomever he wanted, just like he had done with half of the Stark family already. Her nephew Ned had been orphaned, and he was just a child. All the Stark siblings had been orphaned as well... And now Sansa was feeling like the worst woman on Earth for condemning her child to come into the world like that.
How could things get any worse? There was only one thing worse for Sansa, and it was death. She had narrowly escaped it, and her child had narrowly escaped it as well. She knew she should try to resist, if not for her for the sake of her unborn child, but it was so hard... It was so hard to fight... She was so, so, so tired of fighting! So tired of enduring, and resisting, and falling and standing back up just to fall again. It was exhausting, and after the events of that day she didn't know of she could take it anymore.
Sandor was walking up and down the corridor in which the rooms of the patients were, but most of them were closed and he did not know Sansa's room number, and he couldn't just go around opening every single door and disturbing the sleeping patients until he found Sansa. From time to time a nurse would walk by there, but none of them knew in which room the First Lady was. The corridor was dark and deserted, unlike the emergency department, which had been full of activity. Sansa had been moved to that wing of the hospital because she wasn't in danger anymore, and the only thing that she had to do was rest.
Suddenly one of the doors opened and Joffrey came out from inside the room, and he saw Sandor.
"Clegane!" Joffrey called him, and he walked towards the bodyguard. He didn't seem to be questioning why Sandor had followed him there. Before Sandor could say it do anything, Joffrey spoke. "Sansa is staying the night here, so you are going to have to stay too. We will come to pick you up tomorrow."
Then he walked away, leaving Sandor alone in that corridor. Sandor glared at the President's back as the blond man left and disappeared behind a corner, and then he looked at the door of the room from which Joffrey had come out. That was the room in which Sansa was, and Sandor felt the strongest urge that he had ever felt to open the door and go inside the room. He knew that he couldn't and that he had to stay outside the room guarding it, like a bodyguard was supposed to do. Joffrey and the Lannisters were still inside the building, and things were already bad enough to raise more suspicion. So Sandor slowly walked towards the closed door. He looked at it longingly, but he just stood there beside it, waiting and waiting.
About an hour had passed, and by then Sandor was sure that the President and his family were gone. He didn't know if there were any bodyguards left in the hospital, but he didn't give a fuck about them. The corridor was completely deserted at that moment, so Sandor carefully turned around and grabbed the door handle and turned it to open the door. It made a bit of noise, and once the door was open Sandor quickly stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him again.
The room was dark except for the few rays of moonlight that came through the window. Sandor looked around the room and then his eyes came upon the bed, which was slightly illuminated by the silver light. Sansa was lying on it beneath the cover, with her head resting on two big pillows. She was dressed in a hospital gown and she had her eyes closed; she was probably sleeping. She looked so small and fragile, like she was about to break down into millions of tiny little pieces. Sandor stood there in front of the door looking at her for some very long seconds, observing her and studying the state she was in. Sansa didn't look ill; the doctor had said that she was healthy, but he had also mentioned that she was delicate. That came as no surprise after the horrible day that Sansa had lived...
Sandor took a few steps closer to the bed, trying not to make noise as he walked so that he wouldn't wake Sansa up. Slowly he made his way towards the bed, and once he was there he sat in the border of it next to a sleeping Sansa. The mattress sunk beneath his weight, but it didn't seem to disturb Sansa. Sandor watched her face as she slept, just like he had done so many times before, but that time was different. Whenever Sansa slept she was so peaceful, like an innocent child. Whoever, he expression at that moment as she slept was everything but peaceful; she had deep lines in her forehead, indicating that she wasn't relaxed, and her eyes were tightly closed. Overall she looked quite distressed, and Sandor wondered if she was being tormented by bad dreams. Sandor reached out to take Sansa's hand in his. Even though he hadn't looked to see where her hand was, he automatically found it. He gently out his hand in hers, touching her soft skin with his rough and calloused fingers, and he turned his head to look at it when he realized that Sansa's hand was resting on her belly.
All thought of the baby seemed to have vanished when he came I side the room, but now that his eyes were staring directly at Sansa'd belly the doctor's words came back to his mind and seemed to slap him full in the face. Sansa was pregnant... His child was growing inside of her at that very moment, and as Sandor thought about that and looked at the woman's still-flat stomach he felt joy, for how could he not rejoice in the fact that Sansa was going to make him become a father? He was going to have a child with her... And at the same time, that same thing that the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to him in his life, and he felt that he was sweating because of the sudden stress that he was feeling.
Fuck, what were they going to do?
Knowing there wasn't much that he could do for the moment, Sandor tore his gaze away from Sansa's belly, but he didn't let go of her hand. He looked at her face again, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. When his lips pressed against her skin there, he felt her stir slightly and he moved away. Her eyes were now open and looking at him.
"Sandor...?" she asked, barely whispering.
"Sshh, little bird," he murmured. His low voice was rough and raspy, but gentle as the same time. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"I wasn't sleeping well," she confessed to him, lowering her gaze for a second. Sandor's guess that she had been having nightmares was confirmed then. "I couldn't sleep at first, I was so scared... But I was so tired."
"It has been a very long day," Sandor nodded, and he put his other hand on her cheek. The hand that had on top of her hand on her belly didn't move away. "Sleep. I'll be right here."
Sansa quickly shook her head. "I don't want to go to sleep. When I close my eyes I see the plane... And I see them, Sandor."
Sansa's voice broke, but she didn't cry. She didn't shed a single tear, nor did a single one appear in her eyes. They remained completely dry, and Sandor was not a fool. Maybe someone else would have taken it as a sign of strength, but Sandor had long ago learned that Sansa was the strongest person he had ever known even when she was a crying mess. No, the fact that she wasn't shedding a single year had a very different meaning, and a very dark one as well: Sansa was too broken inside to cry. She had hit rock bottom, and she didn't have strength for more.
"I see their faces, every single one... They have thee eyes closed, and I know that they are dead already... And Joffrey is laughing, and then the plane falls, and I'm in that plane... And I can't stop it."
"You couldn't have done anything, Sansa," Sandor told her, knowing that she still blamed herself, like she had done that morning when she spoke on the phone with him.
"I could have," she said, and her voice sounded angry. "I should have. I should have realized that there was something wrong, Joffrey was acting weird. All the signs were there, and I was too stupid to see them!"
"None of us saw those signs, Sansa," Sandor said. He should have been the one to see that something was way off; he had noticed it, but he hadn't realized what it meant until it was too late. He knew that, had Sansa not left the jet and had she died in that crash, he would have blamed himself until the bitter end. And then he would have been completely lost... "It is not your fault. I told you that before, and I will tell you again and again until you listen to me. Joffrey killed them, not you."
"I saw the baby too," she said then, shutting him up. It was the first time that one of them mentioned the baby in the other one's presence. "I saw the baby in my dream. I saw Joffrey holding him, and I heard his cries as the plane went down."
Sandor felt sick, really sick. He felt the bike rise in his throat, burning it, but Sandor cleared his throat and stopped himself from getting ill. Sansa was going through enough and she should not have to deal with his reactions to the horrible thoughts that were crowding his mind.
"He's not going to touch our baby," he rasped, and his fingers caressed her hand on her belly in a comforting gesture.
The words sounded foreign in his mouth. Our baby. Sandor repeated them over and over in his mind, trying to get used to them. They were so precious and scary at the same time, and Sandor didn't know wether to smell or to curse out loud.
"Are you angry with me?" Sansa asked then, confusing Sandor.
"Angry with...?" he started asking, until he realized what Sansa meant. "No. No, of course not! How could I ever be angry with you?"
"You said you didn't want me to get pregnant, remember? Almost a year ago... And I have put you in a bigger risk than you were before. Joffrey can easily discover than you are the father, and then-"
"Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the Lannister. And fuck me, you should be angry with me."
"I'm not," she confessed then, surprising him even more. Sansa out her other hand on her belly and she looked down at it, and Sandor was amazed by the change in her expression. There was fear just like before, yes, and sadness, but a small spark appeared in her gaze and pushed the other darker emotion away, replacing them with love. Sansa loved that small being inside of her, and the fear and sadness came from not being able to protect it. "We are going to be parents, Sandor..."
She finally shed a tear then, but it was more of a happy tear. A sorrowful happy tear, a mix of opposite emotions... Sandor wiped it away with his finger.
Parents, he thought as he looked at her. We are going to have a son. Or a daughter, who knows. Good gods, what are we going to do now?
"Yes," he said, and he lowered his gaze to look at Sansa belly again. "Yes we are..."
He moved Sansa's hand away, and he lowered his body until his head was over Sansa's belly, and he kissed it. Sansa put her hands on his head and tangled her fingers in his hair, and she laughed softly with Sandor's gesture. Sandor was glad to hear her laugh, even if it was a small and a bit sad laugh. At least it was something. He needed to show her that she wasn't alone, and he also needed to let her know that it was true that he wasn't angry. True, he hadn't wanted Sansa to get pregnant when she asked him a year ago because it would put them in a very difficult situation, and later they found out that it would put them in danger... But now it had happened; they could not go back in time, so what Sandor had to do was find a way to get Sansa and their child away.
"Sandor, what are we going to do...?" Sansa asked, feeling desperate.
He thought about it for a second before answering. He he spoke he did it with confidence. He gad a goal in mind, and he wasn't going to stop until he got it.
"I'm going to find as much evidence as I can get my hands on to show to he world the monster that Joffrey is," he told her. He waited for Sansa to protest, but she did not. "I'm going to get help. I'll start a bloody war if I have to."
Sandor never lied; he meant every word he said. He would do whatever it room to put an end to that bloody situation that they were in, no matter what it cost... As long as Sansa and their child were safe, of course.
Wether Sansa considered that a good or a bad idea, Sandor never knew. They stood there in silence for a long time; Sandor had his head carefully resting on Sansa's belly, while her hands softly played with his hair and sometimes caressed his skin. They were both lost in deep thought, and suddenly, images from earlier that day popped up in Sandor's mind. He tensed up, and Sansa must have felt him, because she broke the silence and asked:
"What are you thinking of?"
"Nothing, I... I think I saw my sister," he said then.
"What?" Sansa asked, surprised.
"One of the nurses, she... She looked like my mother," he confessed. He felt stupid saying that out loud, just like he had felt stupid before in the emergency department with the nurse. But he had a feeling inside of him that he couldn't shake away... "She's the same age that my sister would have been. I told you that my parents gave her up for adoption."
"Have you talked to her?"
Sandor shook his head. He realized then that he shouldn't be talking about that.
"I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't be saying that. You just lost your brother, I shouldn't be talking about finding my sister..."
"Sandor, I still have family left..." Sansa murmured. Sandor heard the pain in her voice, and he wanted to slap himself. He should have stayed quiet, damn it! "And you have nobody. It would be lovely if you found your sister."
"I don't even know of it was her," Sandor rasped.
"Well, go and ask."
"It's not that easy. What if she is but she doesn't know? How do I even behind to ask her?" Sandor said, and he shook his head again. He kept resting his head on Sansa's belly. He listened to see if he could hear the baby's tiny heartbeat, but there was nothing. "Besides, it wouldn't be fair... I can't meet her and get her involved in all this mess. And my parents gave her up for her own good... It would feel like fucking treason if, because of me, Gregor got to her... Things are better as they are. Besides, I doubt it's her, I'm just... I'm fucking tired," he sighed.
"I'm tired too," Sansa murmured.
"Then sleep, little bird... I will be right here."
"The funeral is in two days..." she whispered, and her voice broke again. She took Sandor's hand and squeezed it. She was shaking. I don't know if I can make it... But I will do my best."
Sandor pitied her. He felt angry too, and sad, and furious.
Brave little bird... he thought.
None of them said anything after that. Silence invaded the room, but that silence was broken by the sound of their heavy breathing. Soon, Sandor felt Sansa fell asleep. He didn't sleep at all during the whole night, though. He stayed awake, watching Sansa, guarding her in her sleep in the darkness of that cold hospital...
He couldn't completely protect her in her sleep, though. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't chase her nightmares away.