This has been a long time in coming. Let's see... I wrote this a little after seeing the movie the first time, so... couple years ago. I wanted to post it so many times, but I'd always go back to the editing table and find a little something here, a little something there...
In this fic, I attempt to draw a picture of our favourite couple who have gone back to rebuild a life out of the "ashes" of the city. Very few wished to move on and start over, for they knew the task would be enormous. And yet... Sam and Laura went back, knowing they would return to something akin to despair and sad ghosts of their past that would undoubtedly eat at their souls. I wanted to explore their emotions, and their personal struggling with a lack of closeness - because all of the reconstruction would take a toll on their lives and on them. So here's "Rediscovery", my little not-so-distant future exploration of Sam and Laura's relationship. Rated M for sexual content.
RediscoverySam found it really hard, sometimes, to even wake up in the morning to find that the cold had crept between the sheets again - and then he was brought to full rise when he found the other half of the bed empty, with one corner of the blankets turned back haphazardly. Sometimes he wondered just how in the world she was able to rise so early and wander away from the warmth of the heated, desolate, abandoned little house that had become their home since their return to the States.
The city was now a very small village, with very few citizens who had been brave enough to return to their past and to the cold to start anew. Fragile skyscrapers and damaged buildings had been promptly demolished following the return of the populace, leaving Washington and its surroundings a sad construction cemetery. Little paths had been crushed in the snow and ice, making it easier for foot-walking through the rubble. Plans had been deftly elaborated by young university alumni to reconstruct some of the more indispensable facilities and clean out the city's remnants and bodies. But in the meantime, everyone had been ordered to go through houses and accessible buildings and store the cans of food and congealed goods, as well as valuable office objects, into their homes, and gather the rest in a public shelter for future use, should there be need for it at all.
Sam glanced out the frost-covered window and frowned worriedly, wondering just where Laura had gone. The superstorm was long gone but they had endured quite a few other smaller storms afterward - snow, ice, rain; they'd had it all since their return to now-foreign land. And he reckoned it wasn't about to let out so soon.
She had been reluctant to come back, but Sam had patiently reasoned with her that she had nowhere to go, no one else to stay with. Laura's family had been trapped in North Carolina when the eye had hit the region, killing them almost instantly - they had been quick enough to pile in an abandoned school with hundreds more, but had died with the rest when the supplies had run out, a coroner had explained to Laura after they'd gone and found her parents. Sam knew this was still a tender spot on her, and yet she hardly ever talked about them. Instead she kept a solid face and pretended never to look back upon her past. But she did, and her past mistakes made her both miserable and forlorn with every passing day.
It really killed him especially when she came back from her lonely walks, or whatever else she did on these early mornings. Her eyes sunken in and dull, she'd pass right by him and head straight for the kitchen and cook something delicious, but still she never spoke.
Sam carefully made the bed, flattening and untangling the sheets while his mind wandered elsewhere. He shrugged on his bathrobe, an old thing he had found in the closet, probably previously owned by a very large man who sweated a lot from the armpits. It was mildly disturbing to recognise that he wasn't wearing his own bathrobe, at least, but then again he hadn't really had his own in Mexico to start with. The thing was still on his computer chair in Arlington, probably frozen good with the rest of his things… and would be for a long time still.
Sometimes Laura wore his clothes because the old sweaty man had been a lonely one - not a trace of a woman in charge previously when they'd barged in; now the house was as spotless as could be managed, and she donned his clothes whenever the need for clean ones arose.
Sam found it cute when she did. Somehow it reminded them both that they were a little more than mere housemates: she'd cuddle wordlessly against him when they watched the fire roar in the grate late in the night; he'd curl up as well and kiss the top of her head with a little contented sight, knowing that there were more hardships in both of their futures whether they wanted it or not.
He quickly climbed down the stairs and veered toward the kitchen where the silence deafened him - when Laura cooked he revelled in the clatter of pots and pans and the different heavenly smells that followed in her wake. Abruptly changing ideas, Sam found himself standing near the grate in the living-room and feeding the fire with one of the hardwood logs that had been hidden in the garage behind mountains of carton boxes. His sleeve caught a spark but it just as immediately died out. He sighed. This was routine.
Suddenly a key turned in the front door locked and he jerked to his feet instantly, hugging his arms to his chest as a cold draught crept into the house with Laura's short figure. Silently she shook the snow off her wool coat and hung it on the peg near the foot of the stairs, slowly unrolling her scarf from round her throat. Quietly she fished out a thick book from her coat pocket and her eyes seemed glassy for a moment as she just held it tightly to her chest.
The she glanced up, acknowledging him, and Sam smiled tentatively; she smiled wanly as well and then stepped out of her thick winter boots, approaching him with the book still held loosely against her chest.
Finally she reached Sam and gently sought his warmth, a bit clumsily at first, but then Sam grew out of his initial surprise and encased her within the circle of his arms, placing a hand against the small of her back in a reassuring manner.
Sam leant his head against the top of hers and then mumbled through her thick curls, "What's that you've got?"
Laura shifted a bit and nuzzled the space between his neck and shoulder longingly. "Old photographs… when I was a baby."
Sam's hand froze - he'd been about to stroke her hair. He shifted, studying her face quizzically. "You went all the way to your house?"
She shrugged, tiredly, and her voice sounded a bit pained as she replied, "I've been going back and forth for a while… I never could go in, though. It's cold and dark and… Anyway, I went in today and found this on our television set." She suddenly hid her face in Sam's chest and mumbled, "I didn't even grab some food, I just… I had to get out when I found this and, Sam…" She breathed in deeply, steadying the sobs that were threatening to shake her. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, holding onto him so tightly he thought she might crush his chest and arms if she kept this on. "I know I can't make them come back…"
Sam shook his head softly, rocking them from side to side in a little waltz that really soothed him at least. Living in the new world was a daunting task in itself, but he realised that her own pain was just as hard to cope with. "Shh… they're in a good place now. You have to think about you, Laura," he murmured, rubbing her arms up and down, and gooseflesh broke out under the sweater she'd donned that morning. "You have to think about the here and the now."
But soon Sam felt something wet and hot trickle down his bare chest; Laura was now nuzzling the patch of skin left uncovered by the crack of his bathrobe, her tears travelling down, down, but she didn't appear to care.
Laura suddenly took a shaky, steadying breath, and gazed up at him again. Her big brown eyes were filling up again and Sam hated that he could not push them back in. "I wonder sometimes how it is that you always believe in me when I think I'm failing."
Sam smiled at that, cradling her cheek tenderly and resting his forehead against hers. Her cool hands slid beneath the thin bathrobe, drawing a loud hiss from his lips and forcing him to close his eyes. "I love you," he mumbled against her lips as she claimed his. "I've always believed in you, Laura - you just never saw it."
She sighed then, regretfully, as she rested her hands on the toned skin of his stomach. "I know…" She finally looked up at Sam and he gently pressed his lips against hers, breaking it only to nibble softly at her neck. She sighed, melting instantaneously into him. "Sam, love you," she breathed, shivers rushing through her at light speed.
Sam pressed himself against her, completely yielding as he drew out a small muffled moan from Laura's mouth, and grazed her breast through the thick layers of cotton in his way. Groaning to himself in frustration, he tugged his sweater high over her head and smirked as the lack of warmth caused her to shiver unconsciously.
"You're so beautiful," Sam found himself breathing in her ear, hands shaking as they found their soft pillowy mounds, and he heard her whimper and it was just too much. Especially when her hands dropped to the knot and untied his bathrobe, then pushed it off his shoulders with a sensuality that didn't surprise Sam in the least - she'd always been a very sensual woman without really being aware of it herself.
Roughly, though almost afraid of breaking her like glass, Sam captured her lips in a bruising kiss that tore the breath from him. Dazed, they both stumbled and somehow landed on the couch, giggling and yelping as member after member was squeezed or crushed between themselves or between the couch and Laura, who squirmed and scoffed when Sam held her wrists steady over her head. He smirked when she scowled and squeezed her thighs around him in an attempt to crush him in response. He grinned, then, and released her hands before leaning down and rubbing his nose against hers affectionately.
From then on, things got pretty much out of hand - not that either of them really minded. Most of their clothes lay scattered across the carpeted floor as Sam's fingertips brushed lightly across his girlfriend's soft, silky skin, shaking so much he thought he might die on the spot if she pushed him away just the slightest. Oh God, that would be so embarrassing. But no, she was even reaching down to his hand and nudging him toward that tender patch of skin between her thighs… They were so smooth. How many nights had he lain beside her in bed and stilled himself before his hands could reach that nether area? How many nights had he been obliged to crisp his fingers and entire body in order not to take her right then and there when she was asleep, curled up into him oh-so-innocently.
"Sam," Laura said suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts as she scrambled to cover herself. "Is something wrong? Did I - oh God, I'm so stu-"
Sam gulped with some difficulty and focused on her. "No, no, it's… just - I'm fine… You're beautiful," he said with meaning, brushing his knuckles against her cheek and nudging her hands away. "I'm… I'm… sorry, a guy, you know, we-"
"Oh," Laura said, blushing a violent shade of red. "Oh. I - well, you're not… bad," she said, chuckling a bit to hide her embarrassment. "You're quite lovely yourself."
Sam flushed as well. "Oh, er." And there was nothing else he could say that could really turn this into an intelligent phrase.
Laura burst out in bubbling laughter, and he had to admit he was thankful - somehow that had made everything go right back on track. And her hands doing lovely things to him, just running back and forth across his chest and stomach, and then she was hooking her fingers inside his drawstring pyjama bottoms and tugging him toward her with a wicked grin on her face. "Where were we?" she murmured in his ear, and that was just plain torture.
Sam's heart fluttered like a hail of butterflies, and he rose on his hands, regarding Laura lying there underneath him with her hair an explosion of mahogany curls, like a queen, just for him. "I believe I was tending to a very lonely spot."
Laura nodded and sighed a bit comically. "Tis very lonely indeed." And then she rose on her elbows and captured his lips just as he cradled the tender flesh between her thighs, swallowing her surprised moan.
Little whimpers and moans escaped her lips, sometimes his name, other times strings of things he had never thought Laura Chapman would ever say, let alone moan next to his ear.
"Oh, Sam," she said then, steadying his hand and catching her breath whilst laying her cheek against his. "Sam, wait… I feel like I've been neglecting you and I'm so sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to."
Sam was momentarily still as he listened to her sharp breaths. Then, aimlessly, his fingertips ghosted over her skin to finally curl at the nape of her neck. "Shh, it's all right, love, we're fine." She purred softly, eyelids heavy as she brought his hips down against her and pressed him down until their heats melted and meshed.
Laura was suddenly gazing up at him as he roamed her buttocks and stared at her with a question burning in his mind: Was she waiting for him to make the first move?
They'd made love once. It hadn't been a huge accomplishment, what with the fumbling around and the constant stopping in the middle of a movement to make sure that the other didn't mind a caress, a stroke or a lingering kiss here or there. Sam was sure he'd never tire of Laura's kisses - soft, plump, just-right lips touching his flesh and rendering him a pile of goo - but at first he'd been so insecure with how much he should kiss her, and where.
Sometimes he felt like that cool night in his tent in El Paso was so far away, and yet he'd always treasured it and had etched the image of Laura in all of her naked glory into the walls of his brain so that she appeared to him as a goddess even in the cursed weather that met them everyday.
Sam felt her press more firmly against him.
"Too long," she whispered, mesmerised by Sam's indigo eyes rolling back into his head. Bruising her lip she reached up with her other hand and smiled when he stared back at her with the feral look in his eyes that turned her insides into jelly every time - things he was set on fighting for. "Oh, Sam," she whispered breathlessly, taking in the sight of her naked man, an insecure man within the realms of his soft eyes. "Make love to me," she added with a slightly desperate undertone.
She missed him; missed the way his eyes sparkled and crinkled when he laughed or smiled; missed how thoughtful and considerate he was toward her; how he could set his mind to fixing a broken object for the community shelter and work on it for hours and still deny he hadn't a clue how it worked in the first place. All those moments, she'd missed them while she sulked away in the unforgiving winter of her thoughts and reality. She realised she really missed the way he smelled in the morning before taking a shower, like now - a mix of sleep and sweat and man. She realised she missed communicating with him, letting him know she was more than a human mass living in a house with him and vice versa. She really missed all of him - the bad, and the good.
Sam rose on his hands, and Laura's breath caught in her throat - he really looked the part of a Russian god. There was a longing in his eyes, and when slowly he slid into her and sheathed himself into her, trembling like having lived nearly a lifetime without fuel, Laura felt her own heart… cry for him.
"You're so beautiful."
Feeling his callused hand on her cheek, Laura realised she had closed her eyes sometime after starting to rock her hips in unison with him. Now she stared up into his half-lidded eyes and smiled when his fingertips reached her hip. "Missed you," Laura found herself sighing as he buried himself to the hilt, thrusting again and again like a man holding onto his buoy for sanity.
"So much," he mumbled against her skin, his lips then closing down around one breast, his tongue circling round and round, and it took all of Laura's willpower not to cry out loud enough for all of Washington to hear. She arched into him, the sensations all criss-crossing throughout her body, and suddenly Sam's hands curled into her backside and she was thrust chest to chest against him, her back having left the cushions to be tickled by the cool air. The new friction was such a surprise that she gasped, arching and delving deeper into him, her breasts crushing him.
Ice suddenly exploded behind her eyelids, a kaleidoscope of blinding lights hurling in all directions, and a pleasant tingling sensation speared through her lower belly and down to her thighs, where one of Sam's hands had crept to stroke tenderly. Sam's thrusts became erratic, as Laura's inner walls pulled him to inner sanctum.
Finally Sam trembled, thrust one last time into Laura's velvet folds, and collapsed. "Oh, God," he sighed, and Laura closed her eyes, peacefully encasing him within her arms, and stroked his black locks tenderly.
For a long time they lay there on the couch, both drifting off while the fire crackled next to them in the grate, both content just to be holding each other and taking the time to be together finally.
The fire crackled again and Sam opened his eyes and shifted to find Laura's staring back at him. "Welcome back, Sleepyhead," she teased light-heartedly, grinning at the end. The she raised her hand and stroked his cheek and neck, sobering. "I love you." And somehow it wasn't even the words that made his belly flutter, but her little tender murmur. "Thank you."
He found himself grinning down at her, and then rolled off of her, dragging her with him so that she now lay atop him. "Pleasure," he murmured, drawing Laura down so that he may kiss her. Then, pulling away, he smiled and heaved her off, pulling them both to their feet. His large hand around hers was hot and she followed him closely, seeking that warmth again.
Padding across the carpet on their bare feet, he dragged her upstairs and, upon reaching the landing, pushed her roughly against the wall, kissing her bruisingly.
She giggled when his fingers ghosted over her waist, and pulled away, finding him grinning down at her. "What are you planning?" she asked mock-accusingly, and more than a little suspiciously.
He nodded invitingly next to him, where the bathroom door was slightly ajar, a trickle of light sweeping out to splay over the opposite wall. "Shower?"
Laura couldn't help the grin from widening on her face. "You sound like such a randy college boy."
He laughed heartily, the laughter bubbling out of him and completely infatuating. "Absolutely. We'd be in college, after all," he mumbled, nuzzling her neck.
"Mmhm," she agreed, splaying her hands on his chest and dropping a kiss on one toned pectoral. "Let's go, shall we?"
And so they ended up standing inside the tub, with water running over their toes, after some mad fumbling and shuffling and shifting. Soon the water was trickling down their hair and faces, down their necks and backs and chests, washing down the sheen of sweat and somehow closing down old wounds with some finality. They were both quiet, a comfortable silence enclosing them as hands caressed and spread the soap across every curve, eliciting little sighs or shivers. But it was really the closeness of Sam's body, all angles and lean behind Laura, and incredibly yielding, that brought her peace.
When it came to her turn, Laura turned round and gently extricated the soap bar from his hands, applying it to his chest as her other hand sought his soft hair, bringing him down for a sweet kiss.
There was nothing sexual now, only the soft, slow rediscovery of who they both were. Fingers and lips found points of reference: beauty marks, bruises, freckles. And for once since God knew when, they only let their senses guide them. And it felt good.