Stay With Me - Ch. 7
Title: Stay With Me
Summary: When did it all change? When did this become her path? As Sansa tore the last towel from the rack, it seemed it had all happened in an instant. Her life was never the same.
Rating: M
Pairing: Sansa Stark/Sandor Clegane Modern AU
Warnings: none (this chapter)
Length: ~700 words
December 23, 2013
Early a.m.
Sansa began to stir at the sound of tires crunching against gravel, the previously steady hum of the engine quieter as the car slowed and eventually came to a stop. There was shuffling next to her, a large body maneuvering in too small a space.
Sansa swallowed, dry, the taste of iron bitter in her mouth.
Her head. Gods, her head.
Her face was throbbing and heavy, but she managed to open her eyes just a little. Sandor shifted and moved around the seats while he rummaged around in the back. Then, he leaned over her and reached under the passenger’s seat.
He was close, hovering, stuffing cash into his pocket with one hand. He had a gun in the other.
Noticing the movement, his smoky gaze leveled on her as he tucked the weapon into the small of his back.
“I’ll be back in a minute, little bird,” Sandor rasped, clearly not expecting an answer. Sansa wasn’t sure she could have given him one. Her vision tilted and swayed, as if her eyes were rolling loose in her head. Thoughts, like marbles, went spilling all over her consciousness.
Hurt … hurt …
“Just stay here. Don’t. Move.”
Don’t move. Don’t move don’t move don’t move …
“Sansa … shit! Don't move. Just let me―”
“No ... no, please. Let me go … Let me go!”
As Sansa’s thoughts tumbled, he pulled the hood of his sweater up over his head and climbed out of the car, adjusting his jacket to cover the telltale bulge of the gun. He glanced across at her again, frowning with concern, before he shut the door. With the remote, he clicked the locks behind him.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Sansa’s eyes fluttered. Weighed too much.
Dark … dark …
She swallowed again, and there was only blood and sandpaper.
Sansa preferred the dark.
ooooOoooo
“C’mon, little bird, wake up. Drink this down.”
A large hand at the back of her neck held her firmly in place. Sansa coughed and sputtered as moisture burned her throat and an overpowering smell singed her nasal passages.
“Careful now. Don’t want to jostle those ribs by coughing it all up.”
Sansa wrested her eyelids open, her blue eyes grasping for focus.
Sandor’s twisted scowl lessened some at seeing a response, and he started in with coaxing her to swallow some pills. “All they had was aspirin. Like throwing a rock at a fucking bazooka, but at least if you can get some of this down, you won’t care so much about the pain.”
Sansa obediently choked down what she could, which-to Sandor’s clear frustration-wasn’t much more. He took a few long pulls off the bottle himself before twisting the cap shut and tossing it in the backseat.
Dornish Red Label Whisky.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sansa smiled.
She should’ve known.
“Sansa.”
She blinked, absent, too tired hold up her head. A curious tingling built in her fingers and toes. Warmth curled in her belly, a far cry from the frosty night air outside. She breathed in and out, halting, painful twinges in her side. Her eyelids started to droop.
“Sansa,” Sandor tried again.
No response.
“Shit, girl,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t do this.”
The car’s little dome light shone within the small space. Beams broke over his shoulder and shattered into a million pieces. They sparkled against the windows.
The glass … all that glass …
Rough hands carefully enveloped her face, and Sansa found herself staring up at him as she spiraled into nothingness. A flood of images buffeted her on her way down, softened by darkness and ash. Joffrey following her upstairs into a dark room. Shouting. Raving. Hitting her. Beating her.
All that glass … It was everywhere.
Sansa fell away to the echoes of her own screams.
They sounded like someone else.
Summary: When did it all change? When did this become her path? As Sansa tore the last towel from the rack, it seemed it had all happened in an instant. Her life was never the same.
Rating: M
Pairing: Sansa Stark/Sandor Clegane Modern AU
Warnings: none (this chapter)
Length: ~700 words
December 23, 2013
Early a.m.
Sansa began to stir at the sound of tires crunching against gravel, the previously steady hum of the engine quieter as the car slowed and eventually came to a stop. There was shuffling next to her, a large body maneuvering in too small a space.
Sansa swallowed, dry, the taste of iron bitter in her mouth.
Her head. Gods, her head.
Her face was throbbing and heavy, but she managed to open her eyes just a little. Sandor shifted and moved around the seats while he rummaged around in the back. Then, he leaned over her and reached under the passenger’s seat.
He was close, hovering, stuffing cash into his pocket with one hand. He had a gun in the other.
Noticing the movement, his smoky gaze leveled on her as he tucked the weapon into the small of his back.
“I’ll be back in a minute, little bird,” Sandor rasped, clearly not expecting an answer. Sansa wasn’t sure she could have given him one. Her vision tilted and swayed, as if her eyes were rolling loose in her head. Thoughts, like marbles, went spilling all over her consciousness.
Hurt … hurt …
“Just stay here. Don’t. Move.”
Don’t move. Don’t move don’t move don’t move …
“Sansa … shit! Don't move. Just let me―”
“No ... no, please. Let me go … Let me go!”
As Sansa’s thoughts tumbled, he pulled the hood of his sweater up over his head and climbed out of the car, adjusting his jacket to cover the telltale bulge of the gun. He glanced across at her again, frowning with concern, before he shut the door. With the remote, he clicked the locks behind him.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Sansa’s eyes fluttered. Weighed too much.
Dark … dark …
She swallowed again, and there was only blood and sandpaper.
Sansa preferred the dark.
ooooOoooo
“C’mon, little bird, wake up. Drink this down.”
A large hand at the back of her neck held her firmly in place. Sansa coughed and sputtered as moisture burned her throat and an overpowering smell singed her nasal passages.
“Careful now. Don’t want to jostle those ribs by coughing it all up.”
Sansa wrested her eyelids open, her blue eyes grasping for focus.
Sandor’s twisted scowl lessened some at seeing a response, and he started in with coaxing her to swallow some pills. “All they had was aspirin. Like throwing a rock at a fucking bazooka, but at least if you can get some of this down, you won’t care so much about the pain.”
Sansa obediently choked down what she could, which-to Sandor’s clear frustration-wasn’t much more. He took a few long pulls off the bottle himself before twisting the cap shut and tossing it in the backseat.
Dornish Red Label Whisky.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sansa smiled.
She should’ve known.
“Sansa.”
She blinked, absent, too tired hold up her head. A curious tingling built in her fingers and toes. Warmth curled in her belly, a far cry from the frosty night air outside. She breathed in and out, halting, painful twinges in her side. Her eyelids started to droop.
“Sansa,” Sandor tried again.
No response.
“Shit, girl,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t do this.”
The car’s little dome light shone within the small space. Beams broke over his shoulder and shattered into a million pieces. They sparkled against the windows.
The glass … all that glass …
Rough hands carefully enveloped her face, and Sansa found herself staring up at him as she spiraled into nothingness. A flood of images buffeted her on her way down, softened by darkness and ash. Joffrey following her upstairs into a dark room. Shouting. Raving. Hitting her. Beating her.
All that glass … It was everywhere.
Sansa fell away to the echoes of her own screams.
They sounded like someone else.