Spencer entered the apartment to the sound of muffled thunks coming from the studio. Sam's voice was raised but he couldn't quite catch what she was saying. Shaking his head, he hustled up the stairs to see what manner of pain she was inflicting upon –
"Baggles? Sam, what are you doing to Baggles?"
"Shallow…" four center punches landed in quick succession and Baggles started oozing onto the floor. Funny, Spencer didn't remember the yogurt being red. "Fickle…" A perfectly executed spinning back kick left the imprint of Sam's heel on poor Baggles' mangled face. "Liar!" A vicious axe kick split him in two, the bag sagging apart and spilling its pureed viscera into puddles of ketchup at Sam's feet. At least, Spencer hoped it was only ketchup… Unsatisfied with the damage she had wrought, Sam stomped upon Baggles' shredded remains with the focus and concentration of a champion grape presser.
"Sam?" Spencer approached her cautiously.
Caught in the adrenaline rush she spun to face the interloper. "What?" she snarled. "You think he didn't deserve to be pummeled into the ground? You think he didn't earn that, and then some? " She turned to survey the carnage. Absent any remaining target, Sam hissed in frustration."I didn't-" a fist streaked out and connected with the wall "want you –" she struck again "ANYWAY!" Drywall crumbled and she stared at the three gaping holes left behind.
"Sam!" He moved to restrain her before she struck again. "You'll hurt yourself! Stop. Just –"
She twisted angrily – a ragged breath and a half sob later "So? Who cares?" She tried to push him away, and when he did not immediately release her, started pummeling his chest in frustration. "Just let me GO! Everyone else does…"
"I'm not letting you go Sam. You need to calm down. Tell me what's going on here -you put poor Baggles into an early grave. I'm worried about you," he added quietly.
Sam exhaled a slow breath, dropping her head against his chest as the fight drained out of her. "I'm sorry about the wall Spence." She fell silent, worrying at the frayed cuff of Spencer's t shirt.
"So… Baggles and the wall conspired against you this afternoon?" he offered with mock seriousness.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Wow. That must have been some conspiracy!"
"Yeah. It must have been," she answered in a whisper. Spencer waited patiently – the rest would come.
"I thought he loved me," she started after a while. "I thought I loved him too. But he didn't really love me did he? I was the aberration - the "statistical anomaly." It was always Carly. It's Carly still. And even though she has everything – she has Freddie, and you, and someday she's even going to have her dad back – even though, I can't be mad at her. It's not her fault. So I was mad at him."
Spencer nodded to himself. It wouldn't do to say I told you so – in fact, he had not told her. Had never told her that from where he was sitting, Seddie was doomed. That Freddie was too young and lacked the life experience to handle the complexity, the cracked psyche that was Sam Puckett. That neither of them had a viable role model upon which to base a lasting relationship. That Sam's distress was not the kind that could be alleviated by the knight in shining armor that Freddie longed to be.
"And then I was mad at me," she continued in a low voice.
"Why?" he inquired gently. "I don't see that you deserved that either," glancing again at the aftermath of her outburst.
"Because I was stupid. Because he's just a boy, and I thought he could be something else. Because it was never really Freddie that I wanted. I wanted… the unwavering attention, to be, I don't know…" her voice trailed off. "My dad left. Scores of other guys have been in and out of my mom's life – most gone so fast I never bothered to remember their names. I wanted a constancy, and that's one word that I thought would always apply to Freddie. And it does, doesn't it? Except it's not for me."
She looked up to see if he would defend Freddie, stick up for him out of loyalty to the male brotherhood. No placating words were forthcoming. On the outside his expression was unreadable. On the inside, a tiny flame burned brighter.
"Are you done with him Sam?" he asked abruptly. "If Freddie walked in here right now and apologized, it was a mistake, he lost his head. Never should have broken up with you – you're the best thing in the world that ever happened to him – would you take him back? Do you want him back?"
Sam tilted her head and studied him. There was an edge to his voice, an undercurrent of something…else. She considered this, delaying an answer. While his grip on her had eased, he hadn't let her go. "He's not going to do that Spencer. It wasn't meant to be."
"That's not what I asked you Sam. I asked you if you want him back."
Spencer did understand what Sam wanted. She wanted to be adored. She wanted to be the center of creation, the only vision in the eye of her chosen beholder. She wanted to know absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would never be alone again. But she had to understand it too. Only when the self is understood can it be truly open to another.
She paused again, on the brink of asking him why – why was it so important that she answer that question. Why he cared at all what the answer might be. But Sam was not quite sure she wanted to know why, in case knowing why might lead her back to one more disappointment. She settled instead for "Does the answer matter… to you?"
There was a tension – a tautness in his brusque reply. There had been a long time waiting. Now there was a space – a very small space – in which to maneuver. No three point turn here - to avoid crashing, the adjustments must be small as well. "Yes."
A part of Sam clung to this, holding it jealously tight, but another part was equally wary. She knew the answer to his question – had known it even before the untimely demise of the innocent Baggles. He was only a boy. If she shared the answer with Spencer, how much farther might she have to fall?
Seconds ticked by, and he wondered if she did not answer because she couldn't. Because she didn't know the answer, and he cursed himself for the optimism that allowed him to believe the time had come for her to grow up – to move from I am Seddie, to Seddie I have been. He breathed a small sigh.
Her reply, when it came, was quiet, but sure. "No."
"No?" There were so many interpretations of no. No, she would not tell him. No, a contradiction - disbelief that the answer mattered to him. No, she wanted no part of the implicit offer he made. Or no. She did not want Freddie back…
"I made a mistake Spence. I projected what I wanted and what I needed onto him. I don't want him back. But neither do I want to make another mistake…" Not a refusal but an entreaty, and the flame burned higher.
He struggled to keep the soaring elation in check – careful, so careful, not to overwhelm her with a current of emotion that would sweep her away. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking, to anchor himself as well. "Sam," his husky voice called to her to listen with her heart, not just her ears. "I will never let you fall…"