Title: Running Home
Author: Andie, =D
Rating: PG-16+
Summary: Sammy Keyes, who now goes by Sam Pulaski, moves back to her home town after tragedy strikes her and her family in Washington D.C.
*Warning*: May have spoilers, violence, sexual themes, and harsh language.
Author's Note: I think this is going to be one of my favorite stories I've ever written, yes I'm that confidant in it. Well, I don't know how much you'll like it but I know I'm going to like it. Also If I chose to do any M rated scenes all cut them out and make them little one-shots, you would be able to find them by clicking on my Pen Name: AEJ325.
Fic Type: Future Fiction (14-ish years)
Story Disclaimer: All characters of the Sammy Keyes series belong the Wendelin Van Draanen. I do own Cesca & Tony Pulaski, Bryant Keyes, the Riley family, Zack, Chloe Sable, and the Fitzhugh sisters. Possibly more character you aren't familiar with too…

(5-11-08) EDIT: I have re-written the story, I have the second chapter written also and am partway into the third. I will have this story finished for you guys by the start of my school year. If I were you I would re-read this, I changed some things.

*NEW* (4/4/09) EDIT: Okay, first: HOLY SHIT! It's almost been a year! Damn! Now, besides that… I've updated each chapter. Though one my not have a lot of changes, another may. Most of it are little details (some key) and grammar mistakes. Granted, you may just want to re-read b/c you're completely forgotten what this fic was even about – what with me not updating in almost a friggin' year.


Chapter One: La finzione è la Realtà


(Prologue)

Gunfire sounded to the left of Special Agent Sam Pulaski, in the same area where her ex-partner was, and was soon followed by a string of curses.

"Oh man, oh man. Sam. Sam, I'm hit. Christ." Sam's task team member panted, drops of perspiration appearing on his head as he clutched his bloodied chest.

Sam couldn't spare a look at her old partner at the risk of both their lives. She had to take out the shooter, but before she could shoot him she had to locate the son of a bitch who had just shot her partner of seven years.

Pop! Pop!

Two more bullets were fired from Sam's left. One of the bullets zipped by her cheek, slightly grazing it; the other implanted itself in her thigh. "Shit." Sam whirled as best she could on one leg in the direction of the sound, her gun in a firing position.

She couldn't feel the majority of the pain caused by the bullet quite yet, but she knew that once her adrenalin slowed she would be in hell.

The only sound now was Tony's shallow gasps of air as Sam looked for any sign of the shooter.

And there it was!

A shadow moved behind one of the warehouse's wooden crates and showed a body. Sam emptied her gun into the body of the person who she believed to have shot her and Tony.

Pressing on hand onto her bleeding leg, Sam limped over to her fallen team mate and husband, "Tony? Oh, Jesus."

Tony gripped her hand that she had placed on his cheek, "You – you okay SammyGirl?"

Sam wanted to smile at the old endearment he always called her but couldn't bring it to her face, "Ya, I'm fine honey. You're going to be too. Everything is fine."

"I'm not. You, you know it, I know, it." He breathed out hard, coughing as he spoke, "Tell, tell, Franny. Tell her, that, that I love her. An' Bry, and Bry too." He closed his eyes, "Sammy. Sammy – "

" – don't Tony, please. Don't." Sam said leaning into him. Tony was her lifeline, the closest thing she'd ever felt love was with Tony, "I can't lose you Tony. I can't."

"Sammy, I love, love you SammyGirl." Tony sighed and laid his head back.

"No. No Tony, wake up! Tony, Tony, please! Tony!" Sam cried hysterically, tugging her arms around him, "Please Tony. Wake up, please."

"Anth! Sam! Were the hell are – oh shit. Sam? Kenly get those M.E.s here. Stat!" Special Agent Zane Riley yelled back at his team mate. "Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit! Sam? Sam?"

All Zane could see was two of his team mates, two of his closest friends, his fucking sister and her husband for Christ's sake were on the floor with a massive pool of blood surrounding them. "Christ. Jesus H. Christ."

(End Prologue)

--

one year and three months later

--

"Bry, could you please open the door for me?" Sam puffed out her question trying to keep the two boxes that held her good china from falling out of her slowly weakening arms.

"'Ight." Bryant sat the lamp shade he was caring down and open the door.

"Thank you, baby-cakes." Sam sighed as she moved to walk in her new house.

She still couldn't believe it, she had bought a house. In her hometown no less. God she was going crazy. She had bought the house out on a whim, she had yet to see the condition of it on the inside and that scared the hell out of her. She'd once seen the inside of the house years ago when dared to enter it, she'd fallen in love then… but what if it had changed? What if she had bought a horribly run down house? What if it would never be fixable? What if –

"Dear Lord." All her previous thoughts were thrown out the window as she stepped into her house's entry way.

The front room was in a small ovalish shape, straight ahead was a archway going into a dining room, and to the right was a slightly rickety looking staircase. To her left was a swinging door that Sam assumed led to the kitchen that she had heard so much about. Apparently it was all remodeled, complete new age stuff. Not that she was someone who needed a kitchen, she had never really moved past her microwavable food stage.

"Hello? Hellooooo? Anybody here?" Called a creaky old voice from behind Sam.

Sam turned to see a woman about sixty-five who stood in the doorway. She had brightly red colored hair with a dark bush decorating her cheeks and a deep green covering her eyelids. The woman was a petite lady with a well proportioned body and stood at about 4'7 at least 15" shorter than Sam herself.

Seeing the elderly woman immediately brought to mind the Golden Girls.

"Hello there deary, I'm Mrs. Geraldine Fitzhugh. Though you must call me Miss Geraldine. I live next door to you deary. Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. My sister, Bernice, and I live right across the street next to the young cop. Lived here all our lives we have, all our lives. Course, Bernie left a bit for to try her hand at a family. Didn't get to far, deadbeat husband left her. Noticed the little girl playing with the doggies I did, is she yours? You don't look like you're old enough to have a child honey. How old are you –"

"Mom! Yo, Mom, Mooomm – Oh, hey Mom. Can I go and pick my room now?" Bryant asked not noticing the elder woman standing in the door way.

Sam ran a hand through her messy long purplish auburn hair, "Um, sure thing Bry. You can't have the master bedroom though, so don't even think about it mister!" Sam yelled after him as he ran up the stairs, "I'm sorry about him Mrs. … Miss Geraldine. We haven't quite settled in yet. Maybe you could come by later?"

"He's yours too? My, my, haven't you been busy? Where's your husband deary? He must be a deadbeat too. All men are, well except the cop boy next door. He's a mighty fine boy. Always coming over to chat," Miss Geraldine shook her head and bunched up her nose making her look somewhat like a pug with too much skin and not enough fat.

Sam felt like a kid again when she had to face the nuns when she was forced to help out at the church. "Yes, Bryant is mine. Cesca is my child also. Now Miss Geraldine I really must insist that you come back later; when we are settled in." Sam's face had turned stubborn, refusing to give any more information so that she could be the star in the gossip that the old hens spread around like wildfire.

"Alright then, tell me your name first deary. And where you came from of course." Miss Geraldine stood her ground at the door refusing to let Sam lead her out of the house before she gained the information.

"My name is Sam Pulaski and my children and I have just moved here from Washington D.C. now if you'll please excuse me. I have to unpack." Sam stated as she shooed the old lady out of her home.

Miss Geraldine held her place, "Sam? That's short for Samantha yes? Such a sophisticated name, why on earth would you butcher a nice, beautiful name like that? Sam is so… manly. Then again, back in my days I was called Geri. Wasn't a manly thing about me though – just ask those boys who I used to – "

"That's quite interesting." Sam shooed the woman out more, finally getting her out of the entry way and onto the porch, "I've got to be getting my kids some food."

"Oh, you cook? So does the cop boy, cooks a mean streak. He has cookouts every now and then with his acquaintances, brings whatever is left over to me and Bernie. Mr. Truffles sure does like them. I'll have him bring something over some time. He looks about your age. Why with that deadbeat husband of yours gone you two would be perfect together."

Sam just blinked in response to the rapid fire of words. Please help me lord. Sam could break down hardened criminals but she couldn't get a little old lady to leave her home.

"Hey Mom! Phone," Sam could hardly contain her sigh of relief at her oldest child's voice, "its Zane. He said he wants to make sure everything is cool." Bryant walked out onto the porch with the house phone in his hand.

The very same house phone that had yet to be connected.

"We'll have to speak later Miss Geraldine." Sam said shutting the front door in the poor old woman's face.

When Sam's laugh reached her son's ears and he couldn't have been happier. His mom's laugh was as rare as the giant squid nowadays. Nowadays being everyday since Tony had died. Gods, did he miss Tony. Bryant had only ever had his mom as a parent, while she was the best thing in his world, Bryant had always wondered what a Dad would be like. He had never had another before Tony, and he often wanted to wish he had never met Tony. Never loved him. But Bryant could never wish that. If he did he wouldn't have his little sister, Francesca, he wouldn't have the life he had and he would never give that up.

"Good gosh, Bry. That was good, really good." Sam swung an arm around her son's neck, "I think we're gonna like it here Bry. I know I did. Had some fun times," She turned and looked into her son's face, damn if he didn't look like his father when he was that age. "Bry."

"Yah?" he asked looking out into the green yard, watching his little sister play with the dogs.

"When the hell did you get to be so tall? You've had to have grown three, four inches…" His mother asked in that blunt way she had always had with him.

Bryant smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist in a response, "Maybe you're just shrinking. You are getting up there in the ages Mom." Giving her a quick peck on the cheek before releasing her and opening the front door.

"Bryant Case Keyes! Don't you dare disrespect me you little monstrous child!" She yelled as he ran down the porch steps and picked Cesca up in a swoop, "And bring the crew in, its time to unpack and eat! We're ordering out!"


All responses will be appreciated - ha, probably didn't spell that right. Which brings up the subject of spelling. Me? Not to fantastic in the particular department.

- Andie