Disclaimer: Don't own. Either of them.
If this is Good-bye
He stood there waiting, staring at the man directly in front of him. The object of his stare, an older, heavier set man, grinned maniacally back. The older man softly said, "Relax Benson, nothing but a routine smash and grab. You're the one that finally nailed this perp, so you get to be on the bust. Just remember your training from the academy, slow is smooth, smooth is fast." The older man looked down the hall, at two other members of the cybercrime division, and nodded once.
Special Agent Fredward Benson, recent graduate of the FBI academy and ex-producer of the hit webshow iCarly, took a deep breath, his service revolver gripped in his right hand. His partner banged on the door, yelling, "FBI, we have a warrant for the arrest of Henry Moran." After several seconds of silence passed, the two other members came up with a metal battering ram, quickly demolishing any hope that the door would stop the FBI team. "On three... one, two, three..." The older agent kicked the door aside, bludgeoning his way into the room.
Freddie slipped in after him, his eyes quickly darting back and forth around the room. He saw the tell-tale flashes of gunfire coming from his right, and watched as his partner spun from the impact of the bullets. His training kicking in, he knelt and fired, his bullets catching the gunman center-mass. He spun, his senses eagerly tuned into any other signs of life. Sensing none, he smoothly crept forward to his partner, his eyes assessing the damage. As he yelled to the others to call 911, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
Too late, he brought his service revolver in line with the movement.
Too late, he squeezed a shot out.
Too late, he thought, as his body crumpled to the ground, three gunshots bleeding from his chest.
Always too late, as his last conscious thoughts were of a blonde, who had left him behind a long time ago.
A delicate pale hand reached out from underneath several layers of blankets and tossed the cellphone blaring out a funky rap ringtone across the room. When that failed to silence the offending phone, one pissed off Sam (never Samantha) Puckett crawled out from the covers and walked over to the where the phone lay. Looking back over at the bed, she noticed that the other lump never even moved. "Bastard," she said softly. Picking the phone up, she turned it over and noticed the caller. "What the chizz Carly? Why are you still up at... 3 am?"
"..."
"Calm down Carly, breath girl, breath. Forget this, I'll be right over..." Sam leaned over the bed and spoke to the lump, "Hey, something's up with Carly. I'm going over there..." The lump just grunted and turned over in the bed, trying to get comfortable again.
As Sam made the short drive over to the Bushwell's, her mind was all abuzzed about what could have made Carly so upset. Of course, the fact that Carly was also 4 months along could have something to do with it, but discounting hormones, there could have been plenty of things wrong. She ran up the eight flight of stairs, quickly getting to Carly's apartment. Her eyes quickly flickered over to the apartment across the way, and noticed that the lights were also on. But she quickly brushed aside all thoughts of the boy that used to live there, and barged into Carly's apartment. She saw Carly, tears streaked down her face, sitting on the sofa, her husband sitting next to her. She was surprised to see Melanie there, a somber look plastered on her face. All three turned as the door opened, and as one, Carly and Melanie ran and enveloped her in a hug. Sam pushed the two away. "What the chizz? What's wrong? You're both acting like somebody died..." And then it hit her.
She crumpled down onto the couch, Carly and Melanie flanking her, each with an arm around her.
"Here," Carly softly said, "this is for you..." and gently pushed an envelope into Sam's hands. "Mrs Benson brought this over just a little while ago, saying that Freddie... he wanted you to have it..." With that, Carly brought her head down to her hands and burst into tears.
Sam ran her fingers along the envelope, noticing the rich texture of it. Freddie wouldn't go halfway on something like this, she thought to herself. Mechanically opening the envelope, she closed her eyes as she slid the linen paper out of it. Steeling herself, she opened her eyes and read the contents. Just one brief sentence.
If this is good-bye. ~ F
Sam stared at the words, no expression on her face. After several minutes, Melanie interrupted, softly saying, "Sam." After a long minute with no answer, another soft "Sam" was whispered. Sam looked up, a forlorn look in her eyes. "What's it mean Sam?"
Looking straight forward, Sam began to speak, with nary an inflection in her voice. "It was after me and Freddie dated, and after we broke up. I was looking for him, so he could buy me a smoothie, and I found him on the fire escape, our fire escape. He was strumming a guitar, trying to get down the melody of this song. He didn't know I was there, and he kept trying and trying. When I interrupted him, he just smiled at me and continued to pick at it. I asked him what song it was and he told me. If This is Goodbye by Mark Knopfler. He then told me the story behind the song, about how it was written after 9-11, written about the last phone calls from people on United flight 93. About how last words could never reach the depth of feelings one has for another. About..."
The envelope and letter fell from nerveless hands, as sobs wracked Sam's body. She curled onto the couch, her face buried in her hands. "Oh Freddie..." she breathed out, as her friends stood watch over her, tears streaking down their own faces, their heart breaking for all the what-might-have-beens and what-should-have-beens.
The baby cried out, the first breaths of air circulating in and out of his lungs. A pink, healthy boy, the baby was reverently given to the mother to hold. Her husband stood over her, gently stroking her hair as she looked upon the new life she brought into the world. She gently shushed it, and the baby quieted down. "Hi little one, I'm your mommy. The man above you is your daddy. And the lady over there with the blonde hair is your Aunt Sam. Everybody, I want to introduce you to my son, Fredward."
Fin.
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Thanks for reading ~ Coyote Laughs