Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: They meet each other again, a year after the fire that tore so many lives apart, in the waiting area of the small office, struggling to find some sort of semblance of peace. Sandor Clegane just wants to forget the memories of the flames. Sansa Stark just wants to forget the memories of her past. In between, the Elder Brother reminds them what it means to live.

A/N: This one is for bestrafemich21. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/kudos'd/bookmarked/followed/favorited, shoutouts are at the bottom. Hope you all enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated and any mistakes are mine and mine alone! Longer A/N down below

Warning: relevant for all chapters. There is mentions and discussions of violence against women (Sansa) as well as the other warnings in the tags. In case these are triggers.

*Again, just a wee mention of sex

WARNINGS: AU, PTSD, very coarse language, violence, violence against women (memories), bullying, mentions of blood, killing, arson, intimidation, political stuff (though let's be real, it's a backdrop), past abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, self-esteem issues, healing, kissing, sex, there are others that I'm missing but I will add them when I remember them. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS

The lights weren't that bright (but our eyes were tired)

Part 10

So we're here now

Finally found our way out

On the road to some place,

Some place that we don't know!

But it's alright,

Keep on driving all night

Straight on through to till morning,

I don't know which way to go

Cause it feels like we've been here forever

I don't know how much farther or where we're going to

But it's our name painted on the doorway

Tells us where we came from and what we gotta do

Wherever this goes (goes), no matter how far (far)

Baby, you are the song that's written on my heart

Wherever this goes – The Fray

"Sansa, it's Margaery. Call me back."

"It's Margaery, again. Sansa, I just…call me back."

"Do you remember when Will wanted to marry you? We were so young back then but I was so happy because I thought you could finally be my sister, but Will could never make you happy. And then Joffrey did and then he made you miserable. He hurt you. I hurt you and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just…call me back. Please."

You have three messages saved.

Her father's voice is raspier than she remembers it and with physical therapy, he'll be back to how he used to be. Or at least remnants of how he used to be. Sansa doesn't care. He's alive. That's all that really matters.

She's biting the end of her pen, staring at her textbook and looking up at her father every now and then as he listens intently to the physical therapist and tries to follow her moves.

It's hard on him and she can see how frustrated he's getting, so she closes her textbook and gives the physical therapist a glance and she nods, calling it a day, giving him encouraging words as she departs.

"You did well today, dad."

He nods absentmindedly and he gets into the wheelchair she offers him. He stares up at her and sighs. "Were you ever going to tell me that you're seeing Sandor Clegane?"

Sansa freezes and she can feel the blood rush out of her face. "I…I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"Sansa," he says, his shoulders slumping, "he is-"

"A good man." She finishes his sentence. "He's a good man."

"He's old."

"You're older than mom."

"He's scarred."

"I'm scarred."

Her dad flinches and Sansa kneels in front of him, grabbing his hands and imploring him to look at her. "Dad."

"He isn't…he's not hurting you?"

She shakes her head, her throat tightening. She knows he still feels guilty about the entire Joffrey ordeal and she doesn't think she'll ever get over what he did and said to her, but she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she's working her way around it. "He'd never hurt me."

"Your sister hates him."

Sansa lets out a laugh but it comes out more like a sob. "Arya hates everyone."

Her father lets out a chuckle and Sansa squeezes his hands, reassuring him that they're here, they're all right. They're alive.

"Does it make me a bad person?" She asks the Elder Brother.

"What you went through was traumatic and no one should ever have to go through that. You are not an evil person, nor are you vindictive. You would never wish harm on anyone." He gives her a soft smile, "so to answer your question, no, Sansa. It does not make you a bad person to not feel sad over his death."

Sansa nods and absentmindedly picks at the leather couch. "I used to believe in fairy tales and happy endings. In princes and princesses and knights and riding off in the sunset to live happily ever after and I thought…I thought…maybe, just maybe, Joffrey was my prince charming." She lets out a bitter laugh. "He turned out to be the monster my old nanny used to tell us about. I stopped believing in happy endings."

The Elder Brother is patient and waits for her to finish. "This…this guy I've been seeing, he's the opposite of Joffrey. He's bigger, scarier to some and full of rage and anger but he's…he's better than anyone I've ever met. He's saved me countless of times and I don't…I don't think I'd be here if it weren't for him. He's honest where everyone is fake. He's strong where others are weak. He's gentle where everyone else has been rough and terrible."

"So, is he your prince charming, then?"

Sansa snorts and shakes her head, chuckling. "No. No. He's…he's just a man and I don't think I'd want him any other way."

The Elder Brother nods and stares at her over his glasses, a twinkle in his eyes. "Does Sandor know how much you love him?"

Sansa's head snaps towards him and her mouth falls open, the Elder Brother chuckles. She blushes and scratches at the leather. "I've told him."

"Has he said it back?"

She shakes her head. "He doesn't need to. It's in the way he holds me, the way he kisses me, the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not looking…that's how I know he loves me and that's…that's better than a thousand words and fake princes."

"I know your busy studying and applying for med school but Sansa, I miss you. Please talk to me. It's Margaery by the way."

Message saved.

Her chest feels like it's going to burst and Sansa can't help but touch him as she curls into him, her naked body pressed against his.

She silently marvels at his muscles and strength, memorizing every contour of his body in her mind. She blushes thinking about the sounds she made and the way he made her feel, the way he felt, sliding in and out of her, taking her higher and higher over the precipice until she went toppling over, only to be held tightly in his arms.

He doesn't say anything, just holds her tightly as she lays her head on his chest, breathing in the scent that is purely Sandor. She's in a state of almost sleeping, but not quite, when she feels him shift and bury his head in the crook of her neck. He does this often and the way he kisses her skin, tongue lapping up her sweat, makes her bite her lower lip to stifle her moan.

She feels his lips move against her skin and she frowns when she hears him mumble, her breath catching when she finally makes out the words.

Has he said it back?

She feels like she's going to cry. Or explode. Maybe both.

It's outrageous how much she loves this man.

She tightens her arms and legs around him, hugging him to her, letting him feel her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Has he said it back?

(I love you, little bird. I love you. Iloveyou. It's forever marked on her skin and it's a mark she will wear proudly.)

She's surprised that he's lasted this long and selfishly, she thinks that he stayed this long, in a city he so obviously hates, because of her.

"If you do leave," she tells him, hands curling into his chest hair, body trembling, "take me with you."

They're still laying in bed when she asks him where he wants to go and he shrugs, yanking her closer. "Where do you want to go, little bird?"

She's silent before she tilts her head up at him and kisses him. She can't get enough of him, she thinks she could drown in him and God, maybe she is. Maybe she already is drowning in him. He's consumed her, possessed every inch of her and she would do it all again in a heartbeat if it would always lead back to this one moment where it's him and her and their plans for the future away from the place that continually haunts them both.

(Some ghosts are not so easy to run from, they both find.)

She's been north and west holds no interest for her. "East." She tells him, playing with the hairs on his chest. They have medical schools east and she grins with the prospect of starting over.

"Then we'll go east."

East. She likes the sound of it. So long as it's nowhere south.

"Has he said it back?"

Sansa nods. "He has."

"How did it make you feel?"

She's silent, grappling for words, how can she tell him that while hearing those words come out of his mouth made her all but stop breathing, it's about everything else he's done, that makes her heart continually beat thunderously in her chest? That makes her palms sweat and stomach erupt in butterflies? She bites her lip, sinking deeper into the leather couch and admits to the Elder Brother who has seen them at their worst and come out on the other side of redemption, scarred but alive, "He makes me believe in happy endings again."

When she tells her parents that she's leaving with Sandor, they stare at her and ask her if she's sure.

She tells them she's never been more sure of anything in her life.

Later that night, she's not surprised when Arya creeps into her room. She doesn't say anything, just slips under the covers and rolls onto her side. Sansa turns to face her and they still don't say anything, though there is so much Sansa wants to say to her younger sister.

She opens her mouth and closes it, so many times, but no words come out.

Truthfully, Sansa doesn't think there are any words that can express how much Arya means to her.

So instead, Sansa lays her hand, palm up in the middle of the bed and Arya doesn't hesitate to slip her hand in hers, interlacing their fingers until Sansa isn't sure where she ends and Arya begins.

"Are you happy?" Arya asks her quietly, repeating her question from so long ago.

"I am." Sansa replies with no hesitation. And she wants to laugh and cry because it's the truth.

They don't say anything else and Sansa finds they don't really need to. So, they fall asleep like this, hands clasped in the space between them.

(In the morning, their hands are still clasped and Sansa doesn't let go. Instead, she squeezes tighter and even in her sleep, Arya squeezes back.)

Margaery wears black well.

Sansa sits across from her in a coffee shop and they sit in silence.

Sansa stares at her, playing the role of the grieving widow convincingly, but there is a glint beneath her eyes that tells Sansa, Margaery always knew not only how to play the game, whatever game they were playing, but how to win it as well. Not for the first time, Sansa wonders if she ever really knew her at all.

Sansa clears her throat and takes in a deep breath. "He got what was coming to him."

Margaery nods slowly. "He got what was coming to him."

Not knowing what else to say, Sansa nods and then gets up, giving Margaery a small smile before leaving.

"We're leaving." Sansa tells the Elder Brother.

"When?"

"Today. Now." She lets out a small disbelieving laugh. "I…I guess this is it."

The Elder Brother nods. "It is. Are you nervous?"

Sansa shakes her head. "No. I'm…I'm happy." She stands up and wraps her arms around the Elder Brother, hugging him tightly. "Thank you." She whispers. "For everything."

The Elder Brother gives her another smile, eyes watering and he pulls back, away from her.

"We'll stay in touch. I'll-we'll," she corrects herself, "never forget you."

"Go." He urges her.

Sansa doesn't need to be told twice, she opens the door and walks into the reception area, hugging Myranda who's already crying and telling her to keep in touch. Sansa promises and with a kiss on the cheek, she walks out the door, down the hall, down the stairs and out the front door, into the heat and mass of people.

She blends in with the crowd, until she disappears.

"East?" Sandor asks, as he gets into the truck, buckling up.

"East." Sansa confirms, wiggling in her seat.

He starts the truck and drives away. Sansa breathes out when everything they used to know disappears from the rearview mirror.

She reaches over and grabs one of his hands, interlacing their fingers until she doesn't know where she ends and he begins (but somehow, she always knows, that's it's going to be together.)

He grips her hand tighter and she squeezes back.

(We're free, little bird, we're free.)

So, this is it. THIS. IS. IT. I hope that it was everything everyone hoped it would be. You all have no idea how much I have enjoyed reading your reviews. Everything that you have said has carved its special place in my heart and I want to thank every single on of you profusely. I want to thank everyone who has read/favorited/followed/bookmarked/kudos'd/reviewed, EVERYTHING, the fact that you guys are reading and that you enjoy it means so so much to me.

Writing this story has been a rollercoaster for me and I want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to bestrafemich21 for her constant and wonderful support and for allowing me to take her prompt and turn it into this story. You guys have no idea how grateful and thankful I am to all of you.

HUGE SHOUTOUT TO: Teresa Trav, Katya Jade, firedew and all my past reviewers and readers, you guys have no idea how wonderful you are and I am so glad to have made you just a little bit happy. HUGE THANK YOU AND SHOUTOUT to EVERYONE at AO3 who have been so very very awesome and wonderful.

Thank you everyone for coming along with me on this journey and for sticking through this journey!

MAD LOVE AND RESPECT,

BB