Disclaimer: If I owned Sam I would be a very happy woman and there would be
no need to write about him.
Author's Note: I am planning on this being one heck of an epic. I have been toying with this story for about.oh I don't know.5 years or so.but never had the gumption to put it on paper. And now I have some free time on my hands soooo.btw ratings will change later on.there will be some nookie nookie ;P Enjoy.
How far would you go for someone you loved? Would you wait a lifetime for them.. Would you wait several? Would you kill for them? Die for them? Live for them? Would it be enough?
Prologue
**Present**
The funeral was expected. The church was filled with mourners, many of whom Sam did not know. They were from her other life. Her life before the X-Men. There were tearful speeches, acknowledging her kindness, her goodness, her strength but he already knew those things. He wasn't listening. Instead he was staring rather blankly at the coffin that lay at the foot of the altar.
"Sam?"
He blinked at his sister's tearful face. Her eyes were puffy and red. Sam felt her tugging at his hand in a gesture to rise and he followed her mutely. He watched as the pallbearers walked past, her brother Jordan, her best friend Erik, among others. Jordan's stoic façade broke for a moment as his eyes met Sam's.a look a pure hate crossed his face. Sam diverted his eyes, not able to look at the man. It had been his fault after all.
*** At the graveyard her mother had hugged him. She had told him it was not his fault. That she did not blame him. That he had done everything he could. He doubted that.
He just stood there, at the foot of her grave; the air was heavy with the scent of the roses that had been place on her coffin. He wondered, morbidly enough, how many people had it been, how many of his loved ones had he buried.he had seriously lost count over the years.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.Scott. Why did everyone feel the need to touch him? He didn't want to be touched. Soft gentle touches, like he would break. Scott squeezed his shoulder. Sam glanced behind him and saw him with a rose in his hand. He nodded at Scott as he released his shoulder and walked past Sam to where the coffin lay.
Scott knelt down and placed the rose on the coffin. He did not get up for several minutes. Sam watched entranced. They had always fought. Many a night, Sam had played the private mediator between the two, secretly trying not to laugh as he watched her pace flushed and animated as she ranted. But there would not be anymore nights like those.
Scott rose stiffly. Sam mused to himself that the man was probably used to this. For as many people as he had lost, Scott probably had double the count. He had buried his wife alone at least three times by now. The epitome of a stoic. The thought would have almost been convincing if Sam had not noticed the wetness on Scott's face as he walked past.
Next came Jean-Paul. Her brother of her soul. Sam noticed his hands were shaking. Was it in rage? Sam's eye was evidence enough of that.he had been lucky the Canadian had not broken his skull. "How could you have not been fast enough?! She was right there!" the words echoed in his mind. Despite that, Sam dared to look up at his face for a moment. Instead of find the anger of a day ago, he noticed how glassy Jean-Paul's eyes were and something that looked akin to fear. Sam watched as he now knelt and placed another rose on the coffin. But unlike Scott, Jean-Paul rose rather quickly and left the plot..true to his speedster nature. Sam almost expected him to fly off but instead watched him enter one of the black limos that wait at the foot of the hill.
It was Sam's turn to say goodbye. He had chosen a white lily. They had been her favorite. A flower of death for someone who had loved life so much. He gingerly lay the flower down but instead of the tears he anticipated to come he felt only a hot white burning start in his chest. She had betrayed him, she had not kept the promises she had made. They were supposed to be together. They could not be together if she was dead. Sam felt his had clench into a fist. There was just so much of it, the burn.it was replacing the numbness. He thought for a moment he would just explode, combust right there on the spot. But instead, the burn blossomed into a single thought and on her grave he made his final promise to her.
"Anya, even if it takes me forever.we will be together again."
Author's Note: I am planning on this being one heck of an epic. I have been toying with this story for about.oh I don't know.5 years or so.but never had the gumption to put it on paper. And now I have some free time on my hands soooo.btw ratings will change later on.there will be some nookie nookie ;P Enjoy.
How far would you go for someone you loved? Would you wait a lifetime for them.. Would you wait several? Would you kill for them? Die for them? Live for them? Would it be enough?
Prologue
**Present**
The funeral was expected. The church was filled with mourners, many of whom Sam did not know. They were from her other life. Her life before the X-Men. There were tearful speeches, acknowledging her kindness, her goodness, her strength but he already knew those things. He wasn't listening. Instead he was staring rather blankly at the coffin that lay at the foot of the altar.
"Sam?"
He blinked at his sister's tearful face. Her eyes were puffy and red. Sam felt her tugging at his hand in a gesture to rise and he followed her mutely. He watched as the pallbearers walked past, her brother Jordan, her best friend Erik, among others. Jordan's stoic façade broke for a moment as his eyes met Sam's.a look a pure hate crossed his face. Sam diverted his eyes, not able to look at the man. It had been his fault after all.
*** At the graveyard her mother had hugged him. She had told him it was not his fault. That she did not blame him. That he had done everything he could. He doubted that.
He just stood there, at the foot of her grave; the air was heavy with the scent of the roses that had been place on her coffin. He wondered, morbidly enough, how many people had it been, how many of his loved ones had he buried.he had seriously lost count over the years.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.Scott. Why did everyone feel the need to touch him? He didn't want to be touched. Soft gentle touches, like he would break. Scott squeezed his shoulder. Sam glanced behind him and saw him with a rose in his hand. He nodded at Scott as he released his shoulder and walked past Sam to where the coffin lay.
Scott knelt down and placed the rose on the coffin. He did not get up for several minutes. Sam watched entranced. They had always fought. Many a night, Sam had played the private mediator between the two, secretly trying not to laugh as he watched her pace flushed and animated as she ranted. But there would not be anymore nights like those.
Scott rose stiffly. Sam mused to himself that the man was probably used to this. For as many people as he had lost, Scott probably had double the count. He had buried his wife alone at least three times by now. The epitome of a stoic. The thought would have almost been convincing if Sam had not noticed the wetness on Scott's face as he walked past.
Next came Jean-Paul. Her brother of her soul. Sam noticed his hands were shaking. Was it in rage? Sam's eye was evidence enough of that.he had been lucky the Canadian had not broken his skull. "How could you have not been fast enough?! She was right there!" the words echoed in his mind. Despite that, Sam dared to look up at his face for a moment. Instead of find the anger of a day ago, he noticed how glassy Jean-Paul's eyes were and something that looked akin to fear. Sam watched as he now knelt and placed another rose on the coffin. But unlike Scott, Jean-Paul rose rather quickly and left the plot..true to his speedster nature. Sam almost expected him to fly off but instead watched him enter one of the black limos that wait at the foot of the hill.
It was Sam's turn to say goodbye. He had chosen a white lily. They had been her favorite. A flower of death for someone who had loved life so much. He gingerly lay the flower down but instead of the tears he anticipated to come he felt only a hot white burning start in his chest. She had betrayed him, she had not kept the promises she had made. They were supposed to be together. They could not be together if she was dead. Sam felt his had clench into a fist. There was just so much of it, the burn.it was replacing the numbness. He thought for a moment he would just explode, combust right there on the spot. But instead, the burn blossomed into a single thought and on her grave he made his final promise to her.
"Anya, even if it takes me forever.we will be together again."