Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Shannon Rutherford (ballerinadreams) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

Hearing from Sam on the journals had done wonders to ease Shannon's mind from its worry that all the things that had been said and done the other night had been nothing more than something to do. He said he wouldn't have left after the fact just to leave; that he had meant the things he'd said. It felt good to know that there was someone out there somewhere who really did seem to love her for who she was. Who she really was. Sam was the first person in more years than Shannon could count who had seen every side of her and seemed to still embrace her as a person. He didn't think her weak for falling apart; he didn't resent her for taking her anger and grief out on him in the form of a vicious battle over his brother's corpse. He held her whether she laughed, cried, or hurt. Sam was Shannon's constant in this place. No matter how bad things got here, Shannon knew in her heart of hearts, as long as Sam was around, deep down, she'd really always be okay.

So when she heard the knock at their bedroom door, she looked up both hopefully and reluctantly. If it was someone other than Sam - especially Jack - Shannon didn't think she could take it right then. All she wanted was Sam. She just wanted to see him and see for herself that he really meant the things he'd said and that what they'd done had been more than a distraction; that it'd been real and emotional and everything Shannon always thought was just for fairytale endings.

A much more genuine and broad smile met Sam's small one as he slipped into the room and she got to her feet, making her way toward him. "Hey yourself," she said, approaching him and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Tipping her chin up, Shannon gave him a tentative grin. "I missed you." The truth of the matter was, after watching the screens and finding herself unable to locate him on any of them, Shannon had been terrified that he wasn't on them for a reason; he'd been taken away from her just like everyone else she cared about. Seeing him in the flesh, feeling his warmth as she hugged him and smelling the familiar dirt and sweat and something singularly Sam on him, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. He was still there. Sam wasn't going to leave her, after all.

After a pause, Shannon lifted herself onto tiptoes and pressed her lips fleetingly against his. "Are you sure you want to move? Because, I really, really want to, but I won't go without you and if you'd rather stay, we can stay," she insisted. The last thing Shannon wanted was to force Sam out of the place that maybe he'd come to think of as home. She'd come to think of it that way, by now, except it was a broken home now, filled with far more horrible and fearful memories than good ones. She wanted to build a new home with him. Someplace that was just theirs; a place where they could choose whether or not to allow the potential for bad memories. But, it was all a moot point if Sam was attached to the museum and she didn't want to push. Her eyes searched his and she waited, gauging his expression. His eyes might very well tell her more than his words ever could or would.