Sam woke up, wondering what the hell his life had become. He was still running Cheers, though he wasn't in quite as often as he had been during his bachelor days. He was laying on some satin sheets- red- and while in the past that might have excited him for an overnight romp, that was all that he'd laid on for the past 6 months. His wife Carrie insisted on red; red and pink everything. So much as if his bedroom appeared to have been doused in Pepto Bismol. And to tell the truth, that's exactly what he felt like he needed after coming to the realization that he indeed hated marriage. Hated it. Hated the same meals week after week, hated having to come straight home from work, hated having to talk about his day...hated having to sell his Corvette to pay for a mortgage to a home that he had now come to, yes, hate. Hate hate hate- Sam hated his life.

Carrie wasn't so bad, really. He knew she loved him in her overbearing way. She thought she was pleasing him by keeping the house neat and tidy, preparing healthy meals, making sure the bills were paid on time. She'd even tried to get Norm to pay his tab at the bar. Sam had wondered why Norm had stopped coming into the bar, when one day he walked past another local bar and saw Norm sitting there. Of course Sam was hurt. Norm was his friend, his regular; yes, the tab was pretty steep, but it was for his friend. The sense of familiarity that Norm brought with him- the regulars shouting out Norm when he'd walked into Cheers, the little one liners Norm had at the ready, the bar stool that Norm sat in night after night (truth be told, day after day, as well) was also comforting, though Sam Malone wasn't quite insightful enough to understand why.)

And with Norm gone, Cliff had followed. And Sam even missed Cliff.

Carla had no one to take out her frustrations of her troublesome life on, so she was snapping at Sam, the customers (even more so), and wasn't laughing so much at Sam's jokes any longer. She was miserable, to be sure, but instead of releasing a lot of that tension by bantering and bickering with Clavin, Carla now used Sam and Woody as the targets of her anger, misguided as it was.

And more and more, Sam would have to reassure Woody that Carla was just mean and unhappy, that she didn't mean the things she'd said to him. But Woody, after a short lived term at the local city council, was now a father of a toddler, and was tired. Woody tried, but his mistakes were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Carrie would do the math, see that Woody's mistakes were costing Cheers a bit of money, and was pressuring Sam to fire Woody.

Sam wouldn't- he couldn't do that.

Woody was , well, Woody. He was part of Cheers, part of Sam's life.

Everything had changed in the past year or two.

Frasier had moved to Seattle, was doing quite well for himself. He would call and check in. But Sam hadn't realized just how much he would miss Frasier's advice until he was no longer around to give it to him, and to the bar regulars, on a daily basis.

God, Sam hated change.

Sam had nearly moved to California, to be with Diane. They both quickly realized that it would be a mistake. Diane was clearly cut out for bigger and better things than Cheers, than Boston, than Sam himself.

Sam was Boston. He was a former Red Sox player, for goodness' sake. He had his friends, his bar...everybody knew his name, it seemed.

Including the shrill "Sam, take out the trash. Sam, don't forget to pick up dinner. Sam, you left your water bottle on the table without using a coaster!" that came from his wife's mouth on a daily basis.

And Sam, more and more by the day was coming to the conclusion that Diane would likely have done the same things too. Diane was tidy, prissy, particular.

She was maddening, oh how they fought.

She'd driven him crazy.

And now, committed to a marriage that his heart wasn't in, living a life that was becoming less and less familiar and safe and friendly and exciting by the day, Sam was coming to the conclusion that he missed Diane.

A lot.

He picked up the phone, ready to ask the operator for Diane's number in LA.

then the thought occured to him how complicated their relationship was before; adding Carrie into the mix was unfair, both to Carrie and Diane.

And while he cared for his wife and didn't want to hurt her, he knew Diane deserved better than to be thrown into a fire of Sam's own making.

As he hung the phone down, Sam knew that all Diane asked of him was to fight for her instead of with her, to fight for their relationship.

And that's just what Sam would do.

Things would get hard, get ugly, feelings would be hurt.

He didn't know if Diane would ever consider coming back to Boston, to be part of Sam's life.

But that was a chance he would have to take.

More than ever, Sam knew it was up to him to fight for a life with Diane, even if she wasn't around to tell him to do so.

Maybe things would pan out for him and Diane, maybe they wouldn't.

But if being with Diane had taught him anything, it was that the most valuable things in life were worth working at, worth fighting for.

"Carrie, can you come here? We need to talk."

And with that statement, Sam Malone took his first steps, on his own, to being his own man, to making the right choices.

In other words, he was finally being the Sam Malone that Diane had always wanted him to be.

And with that, Sam found a new kind of freedom that he'd never experienced before.

It wasn't about his friends, although he wanted them back, desperately.

It wasn't about pleasing anyone other than himself. Hell Diane had no idea what Sam had been up to, what his plans were, what he was doing for her now.

Diane wasn't telling him what to do; he was doing what he wanted to do, what he had to do, all for a chance of a life with Diane.

Being a former ball player, he knew that you had to step up to the bat, you had to swing...sometimes you'd miss, but when you'd hit...well, there was nothing like that.

It was time for him to step up to the plate, and that's exactly what he would do.

All because he knew he belonged with Diane.

Go figure. She'd been right about him all along.

the end