EPILOGUE. How To Save A Life
We were drawn from the weeds
We were brave like soldiers
Falling down under the pale moonlight
You were holding me
Like someone broken
And I couldn't tell you, but I'm telling you now
Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down
Fall on me
Tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you, forever in me
Ever the same
-Ever The Same - Rob Thomas
Despite everything, Sam still has nightmares.
They're always the same, and it's what makes them worse. She knows what is coming, the second she wakes up in that dream, in that stupid red dress, nearly tripping on her awkward heels, following after Brooke with tears in her eyes.
"I didn't WANT this," Brooke always tells her, in this horribly hoarse voice, and Sam feels the brush of her soft fingers against hers, squeezing hard, before Brooke lets her go just as quickly.
She always tries to get her to stop, and she's never fast enough, and about this time, she knows what's going to happen, because it's happened hundreds of times before.
Brooke walks away, head down, getting away from her as fast as she can. Sam sees the lights, one second too late. All she can do is shout futilely.
There are no tires screeching. No, that bitch Nicole actually SPEEDS UP, and then Brooke's screams burn a hole inside her before there's the sickening squelch.
In that terrible, terrifying moment, there's only silence, before Sam trips on her dress and doesn't get to Brooke first. She's the third person to stand over the muddled, bloody mess of Brooke, and she collapses to her knees, so afraid and so scared and there's just so much blood-
She hears voices screaming and there's talk of 9-1-1 and ambulances, and Sam always has kept her head in an emergency. She delivered their baby.
She knows what to do.
She can't do it. All she can do is stare through burning eyes. She can't speak, and when Harrison falls down beside her, she suddenly comes to life. She screams at him, utters so much foul language she actually STUNS him, and blames him for all of it. She won't let him touch her, because at that moment, Sam claims Brooke, broken, bloody Brooke, as her own. She loves her more than Harrison ever could, and Sam is terrified and heartbroken and panicking, but she knows that's true.
Sirens bleed into her senses, and then she hears the words "She's not breathing", just as she sees bloody fingers twitch, and then stop.
She always wakes up with a strangled scream clogged in her throat.
--
It's the middle of the night, and it's too quiet.
Sam's plastered with sweat. She's clammy, cold.
Breathing hard, she comes to her senses. She's in her bed. In her house. It's not junior prom, but Christmas break, and Brooke is breathing, just not in her room.
Heart pounding, Sam swallows, trying to calm herself.
It's not enough.
The sweat is drying quickly, and it's making her shiver, so she's quick as she throws off her covers and heads barefooted to the bathroom door.
Sam had promised her mother that she wouldn't do this. Her mother insisted they at least maintain decency, and ordered the bathroom door locked during sleeping hours.
Sam is nineteen years old, and suffering the effects of a very traumatic nightmare.
She unlocks the door.
By now, Brooke is unphased. She's waiting for her, slender arm holding the covers up, muted loving expression on her sleepy face.
Just seeing her makes Sam feel better.
Finally able to breathe, she slides between crisp sheets. Brooke smells like Listerine and strawberries, an interesting, if minty combination, and Sam likes it. Nuzzling her nose against Brooke's collarbone, she breathes it in.
"You're shaking." Brooke's voice is low and rough in its sleepiness. Sam thinks it sounds like velvet would sound, if you could actually HEAR velvet.
"You died," she tells her frankly, whispering against her skin. "Again."
There's a beat, and then arms pull her even closer.
"Jane is going to kill us if she finds us like this," Brooke says, a beat later, and then presses a soft kiss against Sam's crown, like a mother kissing a child goodnight.
It feels a little too chaste for Sam's liking.
Brooke is always tense around Jane, now. When Sam told her about having to tell Jane the reality of what they were when Jane found out she was on a private jet bound for Chicago, Brooke had nearly fainted.
Sam won’t ever tell Brooke, but she thinks it’s because of Brooke’s abandonment issues. She’s afraid that Jane won’t love her anymore, and privately, Sam’s spoken to her mother about it.
Jane has assured her that she won’t ever stop loving Brooke, and will eventually come to terms with the idea that her two daughters don’t have quite the sisterly attitude that she initially wanted. Jane is apparently terrified that now that they are getting along entirely too well, they’re only going to be making the eventual fighting worse, and heaven forbid what will happen if they ever break up.
Sam thinks they’ve given each other too much shit to ever really even try to break up now, and while no one is talking civil partnerships or an elopement to Canada, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be free of Brooke. She doesn’t want to be.
“You wanted us to be a team,” Sam reminded her. Jane blanched at the thought.
“I need to be more careful what I wish for,” she grumbled, but has since made a point of being more affectionate than ever to Brooke, reminding her that she loves her to the point of stifling her girlfriend.
Sam feels slightly ignored but still finds the whole thing a little amusing, despite the fact that she was subjected to ‘the talk’ with Mike. It’s weird with Mike, because the shift in her relationship with Brooke has now resulted in Mike taking a more active interest in one on one time with her. On her breaks at home she’s been subjected to golfing with him, a really weird fishing trip, and fixing the car, and Sam openly wonders why on earth Mike thinks being Brooke’s girlfriend equals being his son.
Still, Sam has garnered enough affection for Mike to be secretly happy with the arrangement. He’ll never be her father, but she will grudgingly admit that he’s a great father to Brooke and Mac. He’s also the one that convinced Jane that allowing Brooke and Sam to share a room in Italy would not result in some sort of devastating meltdown.
Sam has decided she loves Mike.
Pulling away from her thoughts, she takes in the angular face of Brooke, and the colored eyes glittering like jewels in the moonlight.
Without a word she reaches up and presses her mouth against Brooke's. Her kiss isn't chaste at all.
She hears and feels Brooke's audible sigh against her mouth, and her stomach drops inside of her, making her warm inside.
After a semester apart, it's still new, to be able to reach up and slide her knuckles across Brooke's cheek, tilt her head just so, until she can shift and plunge a warm tongue inside Brooke's mouth. To do so illicits a kind of thrill, and in the aftermath of her recurring nightmare, she needs it.
Fingers cup her chin, and Sam's knee presses in between Brooke's thighs, until their hips are pressed together.
Brooke's kisses slow, and after a lingering peck, Brooke leans back against the pillows, studying her intently.
"I wish I knew how to make them stop," she whispers, fingers threading through Sam's dark brown strands.
She says it so lovingly that it causes another twist inside of her, and suddenly vulnerable, Sam opts for a cheerful, distant tone. "Try not to get run over again."
A flash of a frown twitches on Brooke's lips. She's not amused.
Sam closes her eyes in mutual frustration, and falls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.
She feels a shift of weight, and now sees Brooke leaning over her.
"You know why I ran away from you that night." Brooke's stare is unrelenting, and Sam immediately regrets her new position, because now there's nowhere else to look. "I told you why."
Her smile is weak. "Because the thought of falling in love with me was so horrific you couldn't stand it?"
Brooke's brow rises. Immediately she lifts her hand and flicks Sam's nose. Hard.
"OW!" she yelps and is immediately shushed with the same offending hand over her mouth. Palms over her injured nostril, Sam manages a good glare. "That hurt,” she manages to mumble.
"Good," Brooke tells her, taking the opportunity to straddle her, looking entirely too triumphant as she crosses her arms. "You deserved it."
"No one deserves to get flicked, Brooke." Still, she doesn’t argue the position they’re in, and ignoring her stung nose, she places palms on Brooke’s bare thighs. Brooke’s skin is criminally soft, and Sam thinks it’s a little unfair, despite the fact that Brooke spends more time moisturizing than Sam spends in the shower.
Hands cover her roaming fingers before they ascend too high, and mildly annoyed, Sam obediently gives her girlfriend’s face her attention.
The weight of Brooke on her hips is comforting, but the look on Brooke’s face indicates she has something in mind other than one last romp in the sack before getting on an airplane.
“What?” she says, suspicious.
“It wasn’t you,” Brooke says finally, reaching up to draw her bangs away from her forehead, sliding them behind her ear. Sam is oddly distracted by the movement. It’s so achingly Brooke. “It was me. I wasn’t ready for it. I was severely messed up, and with everything, it was just too hard to handle-“
“It was like you got run over by a truck,” Sam finishes, and her head falls back in contemplation. “Wow. The irony.”
Brooke sighs dramatically. “You ARE the writer.”
Sam shrugs, but squeezes Brooke’s thighs meaningfully. “I get it.” There’s a tense feeling inside of her that tells her she still has trouble with how it made her feel. “Really. I do, Brooke. It doesn’t change the fact that I saw it literally happen. I used to think it was bad watching you starve yourself to death, but to see you literally plowed over in the suckiest example of tragic irony-“
A palm landed squarely on her mouth, mushing her words together.
“I think we’re in general agreement that that night sucked ass.” Brooke says matter-of-factly, when Sam glares at her from behind her gag. “And in the months that followed I remained determined to utterly fuck everything up with my behavior and pushing you away.” Sam’s brow arches. Brooke is cursing. This is serious. “I hate that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me and I hate that I kept making promises to you and kept breaking them because I was an emotional recluse, but it doesn’t change what happened.”
When Sam doesn’t respond, Brooke finally lifts her hand off her face. There is a moment of charged silence, and Sam finally exhales, bringing her hands to rest behind her head. “I’ll bite. What happened?”
“You saved my life.” There it is again. That phrase, that Brooke likes to say over and over again.
In retaliation, she pinches Brooke's thigh.
There is a small hiss of pain, and she receives a light slap on the shoulder.
“I’m serious!” Brooke says, and she is serious. Sam can tell.
“Brooke, how the hell did I save your life?” Sam says, because even though Brooke has tried to explain it to her, she’s never quite gotten it. Something about forcing Brooke outside her comfort zone and making her not be happy with who she is, and Sam supposes that’s all true because it’s the same for her. And Sam will gladly take any credit for keeping Brooke alive and well, but she would really like to find out HOW the hell she did it, because then maybe she can keep on doing it.
Brooke seems to attract unlucky conditions. Sam figures it’s best to be prepared.
“It’s the little things,” Brooke tells her, shifting on top of her, slouching a little. “Like when you got me Lil’ Bleu.”
“You mean when you stared at me like I was insane?”
“I loved that fish, Sam. It gave me something to take care of. Something that I was responsible for. I was lost and feeling sorry for myself in that stupid hospital room and when I was alone I had that fish. And in a weird way, it made me feel like I had you.”
She’s touched. She laughs, somehow uncomfortable. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t get you the big ole’ Toblerone bar like I was originally thinking.”
Brooke refuses to be dissuaded. “And when you came after me on Spring Break.”
After she had slept with Abby. Sam is absolutely thrilled to be reminded of that. “Peachy.”
“You were really really pissed at me, Sam. And I understood why. But I was alone and miserable and though you clearly hated me, you came after me anyway. I mean, you drove me crazy with how insane you were being, but… you came.”
Sam’s slightly pervy intentions skews the memory, and she fights the urge to agree that yes, she did come that week. Several times.
“You make me want to be better than I am. You make me feel complete. And though I’ve got a lot of growing up to do and a lot of issues to work out in therapy, which, by the way, doesn’t KILL you,” Brooke adds pointedly, and Sam makes a show of rolling her eyes. “I’m not scared anymore.” Brooke's hands smooth up her arms, until she’s tented over Sam, and her colored eyes look into hers with a heated gaze that makes Sam suddenly breathless. “Which means,” she enunciates. “I’m not running from anything anymore.”
Sam’s palms slide gently up the arms on either side of her, curling around her shoulders. “So no more getting run over?”
“Not if I can help it, anyway,” Brooke agrees, and there are no guarantees, but the long-winded saccharine filled speech does make Sam feel better.
She’s such a sap.
It’s not going to stop the nightmares, but Sam figures that’s because she’s got some growing up to do as well.
Still, despite the fact that they bring out the worst in each other, the fact remains they also bring out the best in each other.
Sam considers that a fair trade.
Curling her fingers into the nape of Brooke’s dirty blonde hair, she muses, “I don’t know how the hell I fell for a girl who takes her romantic cues from a Tom Cruise movie.”
“Oh, shut up, Sam,” Brooke tells her, and then she does, because Brooke’s elbows bend, and suddenly a lush mouth is settling on top of hers hungrily. The kiss Brooke gives her is wet and lewd, and its less than innocent intentions are clear.
Sighing raggedly when Brooke’s mouth tears from her own to spread hotly from her jaw to her ear, Sam’s fingers impulsively clench into a tangle of blonde strands.
“I want you,” Brooke whispers; heavy, hot, and the sound of those words, coupled with the hot breath against her ear makes her shiver with sudden arousal and need. “I want to be inside you.”
Groaning, Sam is only too happy to oblige.
--
Plastered against the hot, naked, sweaty body of Brooke, Sam decides there’s nothing in the world like this feeling. She’s tired, and though she’s sated, her blood is still drumming inside of her, rendering her unable to sleep.
Brooke, on the other hand, appeared to be completely relaxed, and her eyelids flutter as she snuggles into Sam’s arms, tightening her grip and shifting her position, clearly ready for sleep.
Sam knows that she should probably get up. Jane has taken to checking their rooms religiously in the morning, though Sam thinks the entire idea is just twisted and fruitless. What would be worse? Not knowing if they had done it all night or coming in and surprising the shit out of them and traumatizing the whole family with the resulting nakedness?
She stays put.
Reaching forward, she trails her fingertip across Brooke’s brow. “Can you believe this time tomorrow we’ll be in the air, headed for Italy?”
Brooke mumbles something, trying and failing to be clear in her response.
“I want to see that fountain,” Sam decides. “You know? That big one full of tourists that everyone goes to? It’s supposed to be romantic and all that? I know it’s cheesy but I want to go. I read in a guidebook that if you throw a coin in it you’re guaranteed to come back to Rome.”
Brooke’s eyes stay shut. Sam smiles warmly.
“It’s a deal,” she tells her lover, taking advantage of the fact that Brooke is in obviously no condition to argue. “I also want to ride one of those crazy scooters that Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck ride in ‘Roman Holiday’.”
Lucid, Brooke would have never agreed to that.
Sam raises her head and rests it on her elbow, and looks down at her sleeping beauty.
In that moment, she’s overcome.
“Hey Brooke?” she asks and gets a sleepy moan in response. “You saved my life too.”
She’s right. It’s true. And she finally gets it. It doesn’t solve anything, but just that knowledge is enough to give Sam hope. No matter what happens, she’ll keep trying.
Staring down at the completely messed up girl in her arms, Sam knows she’s going to be trying for the rest of her life.
She’s very okay with that.
-- .
CHAPTERS
Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI |
Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII |
Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIIIA | Part XVIIIB |
EPILOGUE