Baba Yaga (allsystemsgo) wrote in savingthegames, @ 2015-03-15 00:39:00 |
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For the first time since they’d met, Sam found himself at Siobhan’s doorstep as a free man. There was nowhere else he knew he needed to be; no one else he wanted share this moment with. With the chains off of him, there was no questioning or pretending or playing games: he knew who he was, knew who she was, knew that she was everything. Without the 54th, he knew that his life was going to be different now. He had opportunity, but he had demons. There would be threats that would hunt him down like tigers in the night, but she was the light he would always run to. He might have been putting Siobhan in trouble by making this choice to bring her into his life - and maybe she wouldn’t even want what he wanted, there was that possibility - but he swore to himself he’d protect her from all things. After what had happened with the loss of the Bishop children - a loss which had rippled farther and wider than he might have ever known - protecting her was now a priority. She was lost, exhausted, hurting, and he knew he couldn’t erase the sting of that loss from her, but he could do his very best with his new freedom to provide Siobhan all the comfort and space to grieve that she needed. He lifted his hand - lifted his heart - and knocked on her door. Late afternoon light filtered into Siobhan’s living room through the curtains and warmed the back of her neck, her hair pulled aside, as she painted. Still reeling from the news of the death of her beloved student, Violet Bishop, and the subsequent news of her adopted father’s heinous experiments on her and her brother, the memory-reading superhuman had retreated away from the public eye in order to mourn in private, her grief reaching an almost unbearable low in the revelations that Violet had brought to light. She was only able to stomach a fraction of the reports, sick to heart that her student had gone through so much, suffered so much in silence, at the hands of such a selfish, despicable man. It explained so much about the girl’s behavior, the eccentric quirks that Siobhan had come to accept, but it hurt too, the pain of hindsight. The knock at the door caught her attention, and she thought at first it might be a neighbor or one of her students. But after she set aside her brush and padded barefoot across the floor to the hallway, she found that the unexpected visitor on her steps was none other than the man she had befriended in an alley and had come to trust - and to care for - over the last several months. “Sam. I’m glad you could make it.” The tension around her eyes relaxed on sight of him, and her shoulders dropped down. With an ease and confidence that hadn’t existed months before, she reached out for his hands and gently pulled him inside, her heart rushing forward as the door closed behind him. Although Siobhan could sense that something had changed - she could read it in the subtle shifts of his body language - she put the question on hold in favor of a hug, needing his arms around her. Sam allowed her to pull him in, surprised but appreciative of her apparent eagerness, even though it blended finely with the knowledge that she needed him right now. He didn’t hesitate as she wrapped her arms around his waist, circling his own around her and pulling her against her. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he just let her unload in the safety of his embrace, giving her both the comfort and the safety she needed to let go. Condolences felt empty. He’d heard and delivered them many times over the years and they never felt right. Reciting those same words felt like an insult to her feelings, but when she decided to speak he’d respond in kind. For this moment though he gave her just what she wordlessly asked for, willing to give it to her forever if she needed. She focused on breathing at first, working through untying the knots in her chest, soaking in his quiet, comforting presence. That was sort of the beauty of this connection between them: that they had forged an understanding that didn’t always require them to fill the space they shared with words. She leaned into him for a little longer after he kissed her, but then took a deeper breath and pulled away slightly to look up at him with a rueful but appreciative gaze. “Thank you - I, um, meant to let you take a few steps further inside before I did that.” She knew her strain was plain for all to see, but she also knew Sam understood how deep it truly ran for her, and that his silence wasn’t indifference. “I’m really glad you’re here. I said that already but - yeah. Since the news got out, it’s been...” His hand lifted to cup her cheek, smiling softly and delicately brushing back her hair as she spoke. Now that he had a chance to look at her, he could see the lines on her face, the circles under her eyes from the strain the week had caused. Sam understood enough that the loss was hard enough, and then to hear from reports what had been done to those children? He imagined regret was just as heavy on her heart as the grief was. And she didn’t deserve that, not when that girl, by all accounts, seemed to adore her. “I know, I know…” He tucked a strand behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Sam helped move Siobhan to the living room so they could sit down, get comfortable. And she could tell him all she wanted to about her week. They sat side-by-side on her couch, hands linked together as he lent her his attention to her words. He kept her anchored while Siobhan retold bits and pieces of how she and Violet had become acquainted, and a little of what she was like as a student. A few of the paintings that the girl had given her were set a few feet from them on easels, proudly displayed in their unique and eyecatching style, though Siobhan looked at them now somewhat with a tender mixture of remorse and regret. Violet’s feelings, her sense of loneliness and disconnect from others, had only been the tip of the iceberg, and her teacher was left wondering whether her student’s art somehow held a deeper message about what she had gone through. Those thoughts would lead to more nights of sleepless questioning, Siobhan was sure. “...reporters keep calling too, but I think I’ve given them all of the statements I can stand. There’s nothing more I can tell them. I understand why she kept me in the dark about it. Whatever happens next, I just hope some good can come out of it now.” She tilted her head towards him and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for listening. It’s… it’s helped me. How have you been? How did your talks with your superiors go?” Sam listened attentively, giving her the room to speak and explain, filling in gaps with questions or comments that more helped her find the correct word than to lead the conversation places that might choke up more aching feelings. When he was overseas, he had to deal with immediate, devastating losses. One moment he’d be standing next to a comrade-in-arms - a friend - and the next they’d be gone, just a shell on the ground. Siobhan had known Violet for months and would for years afterward question why she hadn’t done anything differently in those months. But the girl, like her brother, seemed to have been birds who wished you did not see the cage. And they put on a pretty enough song that no one ever noticed. He reminded her as often as he could that Violet’s life had been enriched by Siobhan’s teachings. And they weren’t empty words. The artwork that was not sold from the girl’s gallery showing was all over Siobhan’s room and it showed just how much of herself she had found because of these lessons. In time, she might come to understand that. But for now he ran his thumb along the palm of her hand. If she’d let him, they’d have years and years to work through both of their pain together. “I just wanted to share the news.” He said, feeling his heart pounding in his throat suddenly, his body frantic at the shift of topic. “My handler called me this morning. They’re in talks to have me removed from the gang. Said that working for Adalina Schellenger wasn’t part of the arrangement, and since it’s diverting me from my assignment, I’m no longer required. I’m packing up the apartment tonight.” And, as if she didn’t already get the point: “I’m out.” The words took just a second to sink in as she gaped at him, her own heart skipping beats. “You’re -!?” Strange how such simple words could ignite such a spark. For several weeks now, Siobhan had known through their irregular meetings and sporadic messages that Sam’s position in 54th Street had been changing. Although he couldn’t give her many details about why, she could tell that he didn’t seem disappointed about it at all. Instead, he had sounded hopeful that the change in his status meant that it would eventually lead to freedom. She beamed at him in an unreserved sunburst of a smile. In her excitement, she left her seat and pulled him up to stand beside her. “You’re out. Sam, that’s - that’s fantastic! That’s -” Words just utterly failed to capture the emotions that swept through her and took her breath away; relief, joy, wonder. After such devastating wrecking havoc with her life all week, this was wonderful news indeed. Before she could think about what she was doing, Siobhan threw her arms around him again and embraced him, trembling and laughing and falling apart all at once. “I’m just - I’m so happy for you.” It would be a long time before Sam could understand that he could take deeper breaths, could laugh louder, could throw his arms up and shout. He’d been a mule for so long, packed under so much weight both in his mind and caused by the world around him, and because of this, the outburst of laughter and joy were loudest from her. It didn’t keep him from embracing her back, holding her tightly, and chuckling into her hair. They remained close, even as the hug ended, and he kept his hands planted at her waist. “It’s good to be free. I feel like I can live again.” His eyes were bright and his smile, though not wide, was filled with contentment. “You got me through this. I wouldn’t be here without you.” Even though she grinned up at him, a few tears managed to escape and trail down her face. Maybe a part of her realized how constrained he’d had to keep himself in order to survive that life and wanted to compensate for it. Or it was the revelation of just how far they had come to depend on each other. Either way, the emotion didn’t feel out of place. She quickly tried to wipe the tears away, grateful for the grounding source of his presence and the steadying touch of his hands. “You too, Samuel. I wouldn’t be here without you, either. I’ll never forget that.” Her gaze darted away, as she suddenly felt self-conscious about the crying. Siobhan cleared her throat. “So, what are you going to do next now that you’re a free man?” His next laugh was abashed, mostly because she’d called him Samuel. But he didn’t mind the tears. Not at all. If she hadn’t wiped them away herself, he would have done it. Another opportunity to be tender towards her in all the ways he wished he could have been sooner. “I was thinking of visiting my family. I don’t remember the last time my parents and I got to even be in the same room. Would you like to meet them?” And then he felt the jitters again because that was a very serious proposition, and one he realized made it seem he was pushing too quickly. Evren was off somewhere else and he’d hear from him again when his brother decided to show himself, but his parents lived only a few states away. “If you’d rather not, I understand. I don’t know, I feel like I want everyone who matters to me to meet.” It took a second or two for his words to sink in, but when they did, Siobhan held her breath as she considered their weight and what it meant for him to make this offer to her. Then she lifted her chin back up and said with a sincere smile, “I’d be honored to. I’d love to meet your family.” She certainly would have the time for it, since she handed in her resignation as a handler. And because she did hear Sam acknowledge that she mattered to him, which made her heart skip all kinds of beats, she gently reached out to touch his face. “I feel the same. I’d be happy to introduce you to mine some day, too. If you want to.” Her lips gave a wry twitch. “I think they’ve started to get suspicious, anyway. It’s honestly been getting harder to keep quiet about you, from wanting to share everything you’ve done for me.” Sam chuckled. He rarely had chances to speak to his parents or brother, but if he had, he was sure the strain of wishing to share news of her would be the same. But her return invitation to meet her family made it seem all so official, didn't it. That despite never having a conversation detailing where they each thought they stood with the other, it was clear they never needed to. "I'd like to meet them." He smiled, one hand moving to trace her cheek. "I think it's time I came out of the shadows." A kiss, tender and warm. "There are protocols – meetings I have to attend. They want me to give statements, get a psych evaluation, clear me for civilian life. I don't know how long it'll take – I can't imagine more than a week – but..." A small, contented sigh, but god he was so out of practice with these things. "Go on a date with me." She was thinking as he kissed her about how much she liked the sound of that, of him getting out of the shadows at last. He deserved his chance in the light, more than anything. Ever since New Year’s Eve, she’d been hoping and wanting to see that day arrive, despite how circumstances always seemed to be against them. That it was finally realized was better than any feeling she could have imagined. “Oh?” A slow, crooked quirk of her lips transformed Siobhan’s smile as her eyes twinkled, endeared by his bold phrasing. “Better keep my calendar clear, then.” She leaned forward, closing the remaining gap between them. “I think I already have a dress in mind.” And before he could ask about it, she sealed her lips against his, lingering longer this time. She closed her eyes as his fingers ghosted from her cheek to brush through her hair, as she slowly laced her arms around his neck. While savoring the fact that for once, there was no rush, her mouth parted his and she lost all sense of time in the taste of him. They both took complete advantage of his suddenly free schedule and one kiss became several kisses became a long overdue make-out that spanned more time than they may have accumulated just being within each other’s company the last time they were together. But he fell into her entirely, reveling in each taste of her, each noise she made as he moved just so against her mouth. His fingers traced lines and curves he’d only ever known in their dream - though he kept it mostly appropriate. After all, they hadn’t even been on a proper date yet. But she felt like breathing. Like every encounter before had been a quick gulp of air before being pulled back under the waves. And now he had surfaced wholly, waded ashore, standing on a solid surface. They eventually separated, if only to spend the next several moments just smiling and looking into one another’s eyes. Siobhan was beyond beautiful. “So, uh, the dress,” he cleared his throat, raw and hoarse with the choke of emotion. “How long’s that been waiting to be put to good use?” Sam was sure he’d find just as much pleasure seeing her wear this dress as he would peeling her out of it. With a contented sigh, Siobhan pretended to think of an answer as she caught her breath again, eyes crinkled and face flushed in a warm, euphoric glow. Her lips tingled and her chest felt lighter, a little less burdened from her cares and worries. That this cautious, world-weary man had chosen to trust her and let her in so far moved her more than she could say. Sam was a lifeline: no matter how intense the events around them became, she trusted him to keep her head above water. “Long enough.” She replied, with a coy tilt to her head. Though she was almost loathed to move, her arms slipped down from his shoulders as she took Sam’s hands in hers again. “There’s something I want to show you. Something I’ve been working on.” She pulled him further into her living room and passed Violet’s artwork, guiding him towards the canvas that she had been working on before his arrival. The scene in the painting before them revealed what at first appeared to be an ordinary stretch of coastline, with gently lapping waves upon sandy shores, and a sailboat grazing along the horizon. But these were not just anybody’s shores. “Do you… recognize it?” It took him a moment, because his mind wasn’t sure where to reach though his heart was already there. But as his head caught up with the rest of him - memories flooding in from years long ago - a slow, illuminated smile spread across his face. These were the shores of the Aegean Sea, right along where he’d grown up as a child before moving to America. It could have been any coastline of any country and any province, but he knew this feeling; knew she remembered when he told her ages ago of where he’d been born. “That’s the coasts of Turkey, isn’t it. Along the Aegean.” His eyes were filled with the scene, both entirely in the image and in his past. “It’s beautiful. But...it’s not complete yet.” Siobhan had never visited this place before herself, but she had still seen it - not from pictures or photographs, but from Sam. Of the precious few things she remembered about their time in August, while they were trapped in a dream state, she had to use her superhuman powers over memory in order to guide him to the truth. She’d brought back his real memories to him, thanks to his decision to trust her. She didn’t remember much about those moments anymore - so much about that month last summer was lost, the influence worn off long ago - but for some reason, the images of his sea had remained in her head. And then when he mentioned his birthplace or whenever they talked about her paintings of the ocean, his words had carried a subtle but clear nostalgia that had stayed with her ever since, igniting her memory and imagination until she couldn’t resist trying to replicate the place on her canvas for him. “Oh?” Except for a few fine details, the painting was practically done. “Did I miss something?” With her hand under her chin, she looked at it again, earnestly trying to figure out what it was. Her genuine confusion was charming, and there was a breath of a smile that shaped his lips. She could have taken offense to his comment and instead took the comment quite seriously, her eyes reflecting a mind that went over every single detail, every step of the process until she had displayed the product before him. Casually - naturally - his hand found its way to her waist, pulling her beside him. With his free hand he pointed to the sandy beaches - just a niche along the shore, a comfortable grotto - and said, “There.” It was cheesy - horridly cheesy - and he spoke with all the conviction of a lovestruck, nervous middle school boy, but he said it regardless: “I think we’d look good right there, don’t you?” Her eyes widened. With a single suggestion, Sam turned what she had intended at first to be a memento of the sea he loved so much into something else. Into a wish. For the two of them. Nerves might have struck the confidence from his words, but they still rendered her breathless. There was something about getting to see this side of him revealed, this youthful enthusiasm that he otherwise kept locked away, that Siobhan just couldn’t resist. She realized then just how much more she wanted to see of that, more of his smiles - and thanks to his newly found freedom, she could. “You know what?” Looking up at him, she let Sam bring her closer, their hips pressed together as her hand rested gently on his back. She could have melted, molded to his body like this. “I do." Siobhan remembered her earlier conversation with Eddie that week, how the woman had asked her what the ex-handler would do next and where she would go if she left New Waverly. The thought had daunted her at first despite the multitude of options because she was haunted by her failure to help her student. The same sense of failure that reminded the artist of her own brother, how she’d never been able to reconcile with him all of those years ago. Leaving with both of those losses on her shoulders by herself had made her feel overwhelmed. But a new possibility struck her now, that she could not only leave the city, but that she didn’t have to leave the city alone. A few more words tumbled out of her mouth, spurn on by the blissful expression on his face. “We should… we should go there, someday.” She blushed. “I, uh, I want to make sure I have all the details right.” It was remarkably cheesy of them, like something from the script of some romantic movie, but they were finally afforded these carefree conversations and they were going to indulge in them to make up for all the time spent speaking only in gazes and brief touches. She was suffering a loss she might never fully recuperate from, but the best way to honor Violet’s memory and the memories of all the men Sam had lost was to live a full, enriched life. To strive to be as happy as anyone on this earth deserved to be, without hiding, without suffering in silence, or watching what they cared for fall apart. “That sounds like a great plan.” He smiled and kissed her again. And everything was finally right with the world. |