She was dying.

She hadn't needed to hear Patrick Drake's diagnosis to know that her fatigue, rapid weight-loss, unexplained bruises, and constant fevers were not just caused by overworking and the flu. She'd simply seen his face when he'd walked into the hospital room, and she'd known that the one thing she hadn't allowed herself to consider as a possibility was now her reality.

She was dying, and she didn't need Patrick to convince her that her chances were good for survival. She'd seen what chemotherapy and treatment had done to Alexis when she'd had cancer. She didn't want the same for herself. If she was going to go down, she would go down with dignity.

God knew she'd lost most of it in the past two years, but she would hold tight to the pride she had left and not allow anyone to ridicule her in her final moments of life.

For the moment, though, she just wanted to be alone. To go off somewhere and lick her wounds in private.

Which was why she was standing on the docks, staring out over the water. It would be nice, she thought, if she bought a boat, boarded it, and set off into the sunset. If she died out on the water, it would be a nice, Viking funeral. Live on the water, die on the water, and go over to the great, big Beyond on a boat.

Maybe she would do it. It wasn't as though people would really miss her. Well, Alexis, Kristina, and Molly would, but they would probably get over it in a few months. She hadn't been in their lives long enough for them to really feel the loss of her.

Everyone else in town wouldn't give a damn. Sure, maybe they'd think about her for a minute before dismissing her as the no-good, felonious slut who was better off dead anyway.

Lucky would be relieved to not see her and feel guilty for leaving her for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth would be thrilled to no longer have her around Lucky and her sons, and even happier that she would no longer drag Jason into wild schemes where she inevitably needed her ass saved.

Jason.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about him. Of everyone she'd wronged, she hadn't hurt anyone worse than she'd hurt him. Sure, he'd hurt her more than she'd thought anyone was capable of hurting her, but she couldn't deny that she'd been no angel in those last months they'd been together.

Mostly, they avoided each other around town these days, and she hoped he was happy doing what he did best—keeping people safe. She'd once found it his most endearing and most frustrating quality.

Hell, she still loved it.

She didn't let herself wonder if he would care that she died.

Instead, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm her speeding heart. It was obvious that her body was insisting she fight. She'd always been a fighter, and this time should be no different.

And yet…And yet, she wasn't quite sure she had the strength to go through all of those treatments, knowing that, despite Alexis' rather overbearing presence, she'd still be truly alone.

If the leukemia didn't kill her, she knew the loneliness would, and she just wasn't quite up to facing that.

She barely noticed the tears slipping and sliding down her face.

XXX

From where he stood, he could see the tears glistening on her cheeks and wondered how she was handling the news she'd just been given.

He hadn't talked to her about anything other than business in nearly two years, but, the instant he'd overheard Patrick and Robin quietly discussing Sam's reluctance to undergo treatment for her leukemia, he'd been on a mission to find her. It appeared he still knew her well enough to know that she'd want to be near the water when she was in personal turmoil.

When she reached up to swipe at her tears, he stepped forward. "Sam?"

Her head whipped around, and he found his heart clenching at the sight of her face. "What are you doing here?"

"How are you?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Dandy. I'm trying to enjoy some solitude, so if you don't mind-"

"You have leukemia." It wasn't a question, just a statement said in that quiet, concerned voice of his, and it was the last straw.

She fell apart, her body crumpling to the ground, covering her face with her arms as she sobbed. The sound was gut-wrenching, a sound he hadn't heard since the day she'd woken up only to have him tell her that her baby, the one they'd waited anxiously for, had been stillborn. If for nothing other than baby Lila's memory, he found himself crouching to pick her up.

Surprisingly, she didn't protest as the sobs continued to wrack her painfully thin body. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck limply and pressed her face against his shoulder. He could see the bruises on her arms and saw the pale, ashy tone of her skin. How had no one noticed that she was ill?

This wasn't the vibrant, beautiful Sam he knew, he thought as he carried her up the steps and towards his car. This was a pale, sick shell of her, and his hardened heart cracked at the obvious pain she was in.

By the time they arrived at the Towers, she lay quietly in the passenger seat, blank eyes staring out the window. He knew she wasn't seeing anything but had gone somewhere inside of herself where she could hide from the pain. He knew because it was his way of coping as well.

Well, that, or throw things.

"Sam." He opened her door and lightly touched her shoulder. "Do you want me to carry you up?"

She just blinked at him, her eyes devoid of any of the vibrancy she usually possessed. When she didn't answer, he plucked her out of the seat and, cradling her, carried her to the elevator.

Inside his penthouse, he gently set her down on the couch and, grabbing a throw, wrapped it around her, before he sat next to her and waited.

"I'm dying."

He wasn't sure what the appropriate response was to such a statement, so he simply nodded.

"I'm dying, and all I can think about are all of the mistakes I've made and all of the people I hurt. I'll never get the chance to make it up to them," she continued dully, her eyes gazing at the floor.

"You've got all the time in the world to do that," he said quietly. "I don't think you've done as much damage as you think you have."

She shook her head slowly. "All the time in the world used to mean sixty years. Now, it means I've got six months or less."

"What about treatment? What about chemotherapy? There are such good survival rates for this disease, and you're a fighter, Sam. You'll make it through this and see those sixty years," he assured her. He didn't like seeing her this way. This wasn't the passionate, spitfire Sam he'd once loved. Where was the woman who sought out danger and was as handy in a fight as he was?

Turning her head, her eyes met his. "Jason, what's the point of fighting? I mean, really. What do I have to fight for? I lost my baby, my brother, my ability to have children, my dignity…I lost you," she added in a whisper and looked away. "What's the point in trying? It's not like anyone's going to care anyway. Maybe this is Fate's way of saying that I've done enough damage to the world, and it's time to go."

"It's not. It's not your time to go, Sam." He was suddenly filled with an image of what life would be like without her in the world. "You have to fight because you have people who need you. Your mother, your sisters, Nikolas. You haven't found your father yet, and you can do that if you just fight. If you just go to chemotherapy and undergo the treatments."

She was quiet for long moments before she shook her head again. "I've made their lives more complicated since I found them, and don't deny it," she added, half-threateningly. "They'd all be happier and relieved once I left." Her eyes filled with tears. "I could be with my little girl, Jason. That's all I've ever wanted, and I could be with her. It would be so much better than what I have here."

"What you have here? Sam." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder until she looked at him again. "You have a family, friends, people who genuinely care about you. What more could you need to convince you to try?"

"I don't want to be alone!" she burst out, her body trembling under his hand. "Don't you understand, Jason? I can't be alone anymore; it hurts too much. I saw how draining chemotherapy was for Alexis, but she had Ric there. He may be a bastard, but he helped her. He was there when he needed her. Who do I have? Who the hell do I have who'll be there to hold my hair back when I throw up because the chemo is so bad? Who'll be there to tell me that it'll all be okay? Who's going to hold me when I need it?" She shook her head violently. "No one! No one will because I've burned every bridge that I ever tried to build, and I can't take it back. I have no one," she whispered sadly. "So what's the point?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the tears slide down her cheeks. She'd been independent and alone for most of her life, but she'd never felt as lonely as she did in this moment, knowing that there really wasn't anyone out there who would move heaven and earth for her during those horrible months of treatment.

When a strong, rough-palmed hand covered hers, she opened her eyes and stared at their joined hands before lifting wide, watery eyes to his face. He reached out and brushed at the tears on her cheeks.

"I'll be there," he told her quietly. The truth was reflected in the depths of his blue eyes, and she felt the sob shudder through her before her head dropped onto his shoulder. "You once told me that you could handle me not loving you, but you couldn't handle it if I wasn't somewhere in the universe. Sam." He turned his head to press a kiss to her hair. "We may not be on the best of terms, but, without you somewhere in the universe, my world would go dark," he murmured, echoing her words from four summers earlier.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until she climbed into his arms, and his breath whooshed out. Her arms wrapped around him as she pressed her face against his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered as he rocked them both. "You were there on two of the worst days of my life."

"I'll be there on however many worst days of your life there are," he told her honestly.

She laughed shakily before leaning back to look into his eyes. What she found there settled and unraveled the knot that had formed in her belly since hearing Patrick's diagnosis. "I'll tell Patrick that I want to start treatment as soon as possible."

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good."

As they sat there, holding each other, both were certain that, despite the dark months to come, they wouldn't be alone.