Author's Note/Disclaimer: I don't own Sam and Max, they belong to Steve Purcell. I'm not making any cash from this, it's just for fun. Please don't sue me?
Prologue
It was late, and yet through the drawn curtain, Sam could tell the light was on inside. Even still, he was uncertain, pacing back and forth on the dimly lit sidewalk as he attempted to screw up the courage to ring the doorbell.
The cockroach riding on his hat rim chose that moment to speak up. "What's the matter, Papa? Aren't you going to talk to her?"
"I will, just gimmie a minute, okay?"
"She's your friend, right? Go on!"
Sam grumbled, and continued to pace. He had come here hoping to talk to Sybil partly because she had once been his therapist, sort of, and he figured if anyone could help him sort out his issues, she could, but also because he considered her a friend and someone he could talk to. Actually doing it was hard, though. He tried to tell himself the problem was mostly the hour at which he was calling; he didn't want to disturb the baby.
As it turned out, the problem was solved when his thoughts were interrupted by a voice from the door. "Sam? What are you doing pacing in front of my house at this hour?"
"Sybil!" Sam's hands flew to his tie to loosen it somewhat, as he suddenly felt like he was being choked. "I… uh…"
She shook her head. "Never mind. Come inside, won't you? It's a bit chilly to be outside tonight."
"Ah… yeah, okay."
Sybil stepped aside to allow Sam through the doorway, closing it behind him before leading him to the living room. "Take a seat."
Sam plunked himself down on the only chair that didn't look like it had been supporting the weight of a giant stone head. Clutching his hands in his lap, he stared at them, still unsure of how to start.
Sybil returned to her spot on the couch where she had been watching television. Picking up the remote, she flicked the screen off and focused her attention on Sam.
A rather awkward silence fell.
It became clear as the moments ticked by that Sam wasn't going to be the one to start the conversation, so she did. "You still sound a little congested. How are you feeling?"
"Oh, much better. Well rested, at least, if not well adjusted." Though he tried to joke, both it and his attempt at a reassuring smile fell flat, unable to get past how he was truly feeling. His expression fell further as she watched him with a strangely blank look and he returned to staring at his hands. Silence fell once more.
Sybil sighed. "Look, I know you didn't come here to talk about your health, or just to chat. I notice Max isn't with you. Is everything alright?"
Sam shook his head slowly. "Max is the reason I'm here…"
"Is something wrong with him? Did he eat your baseball card collection or something?"
"No, it's nothing like that." Sam paused to take a breath before plunging onwards, the words spilling out of his mouth in a hasty jumble as he tried to express himself as quickly as possible before he lost the nerve again. "The thing is, Max and I have been best friends since we were adorable, fluffy little scamps. We've rarely left each other's sides our whole lives. But now here we are. I know that this Max had his own Sam, but that's the thing. It wasn't me, you know? I mean, it was, but it wasn't. This Sam and Max had different adventures and different weird banter and… and everything! And now I feel like I can't relate to my little buddy anymore!"
"Oh, Sam…" For a moment Sybil considered going over and giving the troubled pooch a hug, but she decided against it, aware of how uncomfortable he already was. "I know it's hard when situations change, especially with a close friend, but, and I'm not trying to say that your feelings are unimportant here, have you tried thinking about things from Max's point of view? You're not the only one who has suffered a loss and he might be feeling out of sorts, too. It might help if you talk with him about it."
"I admit, I never thought of it like that. Honestly, neither of us likes to talk about what happened to us. All I know about the fate of the other me is that he was mutated and then blown up. I don't really know what happened or what role Max played in it all, and I'm not sure I really want to. All the same, I've never really told him anything about… the Incident. I just can't bring myself to talk about it."
"You know it was Max who brought you to the hospital after you passed out from exhaustion, right?"
The question came from out of seemingly nowhere, catching Sam off guard. "I… uh, never thought to ask. I just assumed that was the case. Why?"
"Once the doctors were seeing to you and had kicked him out, he found me. You should have seen it, Sam. I don't think I've ever seen Max so distressed before. He was certain you were going to die again, and it took an awful lot of persuasion to calm him down and convince him you'd be okay. He wouldn't believe that you just needed rest after the way you overtaxed yourself that week or so.
"Sam, he really cares about you, that much you can count on, at least."
"That's reassuring," Sam mumbled, unable to help a small, but somewhat sad, smile. "Though some of his weird new habits are a little worrying."
"Oh, like what?"
"Just little things. Like thunderstorms. Max used to love them. He always wondered what it would be like to get struck by lightning. Now he gets all squirrely and keeps giving me these funny looks." Sam paused, his brow furrowing as he remembered something. "He does it when I hiccup, too. It's weird."
Sybil smiled and let out a small laugh. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Honestly, I think all you two need is some time to adjust, and before you know it, everything will be back to normal."
For the first time since he had arrived, Sam wore a real, happy smile. "Thanks, Sybil. I knew you'd be able to help put things in perspective."
"Don't mention it. What are friends for, after all? Though next time, I'd appreciate it if you'd call first."
Sam's smile turned awkward. "Yeah, sorry about that. But still, thanks." He stood up. "I'd better be going. Don't want to take up any more of your time."
Sybil stood and walked him to the door, opening it for him. "Goodnight, Sam."
Sam turned and waved as he went through the door. "'Night, Sybil."
She watched him fade into the darkness as he headed down the dimly lit streets towards home. There were a few things she hadn't told him about, things Max had discussed with her in the hospital. She hadn't brought them up because they was about her and Sam and as such, didn't seem relevant at the time, but now she couldn't stop thinking about it.
With a sigh, she turned to go back in, closing and locking the door behind her. It was probably best he didn't know about that, anyway.
X X X
In the darkness, he could only reliably count on scent and sound to guide him on his trail. The rustling of the leaves was the only sound, but the stink of fear in the air was almost palpable, serving only to make him angrier. He quickened his pace.
He grunted as the smell of blood invaded his nostrils, and slowed down again. He knew now what he was going to find, he didn't need to hurry anymore. He was already too late.
It didn't take long for the coppery odour to overwhelm his senses as he reached his destination. Slumped against a tree, dimly lit in what little moonlight filtered through the leafy canopy, was one of his brothers, a fellow clone, and he was clearly dead. He'd been shot multiple times, never stood a chance.
The anger and grief warring inside him escaped in a sound that was something between a snarl and a howl and he sank to his knees next to the body.
"I swear to you, I will find out who's doing this, and when I do, they will pay dearly."
