A.N. Hello again! I'm still on schedule! And thank you to everyone who pointed out my error on Sam's sister's name. Now onward we go! I do expect updates to remain regular, so there should be a new chapter up every other weekend.
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Halfway through the movie, Libby looked to her left and found Sam fast asleep on the couch. He was on his side, head resting on the arm and feet tucked up towards his chest in order to prevent himself from taking up too much space. Libby couldn't help but smile at the sight of him so relaxed and comfortable. Before today, she'd only ever seen him on high alert, tense, focused and ready for anything… or half dead in a hospital bed. She'd gotten a glimpse of a softer side to him when she'd gotten scared about climbing the shelves and he'd let her see past the walls that he used to hide the war, but that was all. In such a do-or-die, we-may-not-make-it-out-of-this-alive-but-we're-sure-as-heck-gonna-try situation, there hadn't been much opportunity for him to be anything other than intent on surviving.
But today, she had started to see a whole different side of him. Several sides, in fact. Walking out of the SRU building, she'd seen him terribly depressed and broken down, without any walls present. She'd seen the walls come back once she made her presence known, but only part way. She'd seen him hesitantly participate in her family dynamics, gradually lowering those walls further—though the walls around his work and his Team remained firmly in place—as he realized she and her family were openly curious about him and his life. And she'd seen his playful side, out in their driveway while playing basketball. At one point, he'd knocked the ball away from her and wrapped her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. He'd then proceeded to pull her down to the ground and yell at Tulio to get the ball and score. Her brother had gleefully pursued the ball and run to just beneath the hoop, throwing the ball straight up in an attempt to get it to go through. While her brother tried to score, Libby growled and wrestled with Sam, trying to get him to let go, all the while calling him a cheater. Sam had just laughed and held her tighter. Eventually Libby was laughing, too, so hard that she found it difficult to draw breath. Her struggles had grown less and less furious as she eventually gave up, partly because she didn't want to hurt him—she still remembered him limping in the parking lot at the SRU—and mostly because she could no longer breathe. Tulio eventually scored and Sam had let her go. She'd leapt to her feet, ready to jump back into the game, but Sam had remained lying on his back on the ground, chuckling. She'd toed his side gently, ordering him to get up or prove that he was indeed an old man. He'd obliged.
It thrilled her that their friendship—first forged in an intense situation, through gunfire, blood and fear—proved not to be a fleeting bond, but one that had lasted. She'd worried things would be awkward today, that perhaps Sam would just try to humor her out of a sense of duty or something, or that he'd brush her off now that she was a young teenager, but she'd worried for naught. She and Sam had hit it off as though no time had gone by, and she thought her parents and Sam were getting there as well. She'd prepped her family pretty hard for the past three years, telling them constantly that Sam was going to become an honorary member of their family the moment they got out of Witsec. They were going to adopt him. And she'd warned them that they had better not do anything to scare him away— after all, parents are notorious for being embarrassing. She'd also warned them of what little she knew about his past. She didn't know much, but she did know that he hadn't had an easy life, and that his family life in particular had been difficult. Therefore the idea of an open and welcoming family that wanted him as he was, that trusted him implicitly… well, she knew that that was going to be hard to hammer into his head. To make him understand that yes, they truly wanted him and weren't just putting on a show. But her parents had risen to the challenge. They, too, wanted to welcome Sam, and not just for their daughter's sake.
And now Sam seemed completely at ease. And it thrilled her that he was comfortable with them, enough to let his guard down to fall asleep in front of them. But while it thrilled her that her efforts had paid off and Sam evidently trusted them, she knew he wouldn't let himself fall asleep on them unless he was truly exhausted—mostly because he would think it was rude and wouldn't want to impose. So while it thrilled her, it also worried her. She couldn't even imagine what must have happened for him to be this exhausted. She surmised that he'd had a very bad day at work, given how he'd exited it—and she'd steered conversation away from his work for just that reason—and she could only guess that something serious had happened, not just a bad hot call, but something between Sam and his team. The clues weren't that hard for her to see. For example, the way he'd been so dejected leaving work. Normally she was pretty sure the Team would support one another and never let a friend leave with their head in such a bad space—she'd seen how close they were when they visited him in the hospital, how much they meant to one another, how much Sam meant to them. She'd also seen the way his phone kept lighting up during the movie, because someone was obviously trying to reach him. Normally this would be a good thing, someone trying to reach out and check in, but whenever Sam had glanced at it, she'd seen him frown, until finally he banished it to the side table, out of sight. Obviously, something was wrong, and obviously he'd had a terrible day. So she forgave him for falling asleep during their reunion. In fact, she was glad he had.
She scooted a little closer to him, not close enough to disturb his sleep, but close enough that she could just feel his presence, his "Sam-ness", his sturdiness and solidness that made her feel safe. Even though she was fifteen now, not the scared twelve-year-old desperately trying to survive in a store shootout, desperately looking for someone to save and protect her, she still appreciated how safe he made her feel. Just by being himself, just by being there.
By the time the movie ended, Tulio was almost asleep, so her dad got up and went over to him, scooping him into his arms.
"M'not tired," Tulio complained sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"Shhh," their father shushed him. "Don't wake Sam up. It's time for bed."
Tulio glanced at the sleeping blonde as their dad started to carry the sleepy nine-year-old out of the room and seemed appeased. If Sam was asleep, it was okay for him to go to sleep, too. The pair disappeared upstairs.
Libby and her mother sat in silence for a few moments, watching the credits roll, before Libby asked hesitantly, "Should we wake him?" It was eleven o'clock at night, and while it was a Friday evening, she wasn't sure if he would appreciate waking in the morning to a strange place, realizing he'd spent the night.
Her mother considered the sleeping form, thinking hard and weighing the options, before she eventually shook her head. "It looks like he needs the sleep. He's not working tomorrow, so why don't we leave him be. We can write a note to tell him to please not run away if he wakes up before we do, and that he's welcome to shift to the guest room."
Libby silently cheered—that's what she'd been hoping her mother would say. "I'll get him a blanket and write the note."
She scurried quietly out of the room, returning a few minutes later with blanket and note in hand. Her mother was at the TV, turning it off and putting everything away. Libby carefully draped the blanket over Sam and was surprised and relieved when he didn't stir—she'd honestly been expecting him to. She then set the note on the side table, but before she turned away, a light caught her eye: Sam's phone. Though the phone remained silent, the screen lit up with the name "Ed Lane."
Libby stared at it for a few moments, torn between her manners and her protective instincts. Libby was livid. She'd interacted with Ed quite a bit after the hostage situation and had quickly grown to respect him. But her respect for him was now completely gone, replaced with disappointment and disbelief as to how a man who she'd thought was Sam's friend could do this to him. Her protective instincts won out. Snatching up the phone, she stalked into the kitchen and answered it but didn't say anything.
"Sam? Sam is that you? Are you okay?" Ed's voice demanded, sounding anxious and worried, which did nothing to mollify Libby's anger. "Where the hell have you been!?" the man continued. "Why haven't you been answering my calls? Why is your bike still at work? I just went to your house and you're not there. Where are you?"
Libby drew in a deep breath, doing her best to calm herself and give back a somewhat civilized reply. "To answer your first two questions," she started and heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line when Ed realized someone who was very much not Sam was answering his phone, "No, this is not Sam. To answer your third, no, Sam absolutely is not okay, but if you mean is he in a hospital or anything like that, then yes, he's okay. To answer your fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh, frankly that's none of your business."
"Who is this?" Ed asked, voice suddenly ice cold. "And what have you done to Sam?"
"Someone who obviously cares a heck of a lot more about Sam than you do!" Libby snaps, her patience gone. "And for goodness sakes I haven't done anything to Sam but welcome him into my home, feed him a good meal, and give him a safe and non-judgmental place to be!"
There was a long silence, then finally, "Libby?" Ed asked in disbelief.
"Yes!" she practically shouted, only catching herself at the last moment when she remembered Sam was asleep in the next room. "I can't believe I'm gone for three years and I come back to this! I thought you people were friends! Teammates! Don't teammates always have each other's backs no matter what?"
Ed sighed. "Look, I know it's been a long and shi—" he paused, before amending, "—terrible day, and I'm still mad at him, but Sam is my friend and I want to make sure he's okay."
"Well whoop-dee-doo for you. He's fine, no thanks to you. Now leave him alone. And you should be ashamed of yourself. Call yourself his friend? I don't even know what happened today, but I know Sam well enough to know that he did everything he possibly could to make things right. And you, you should definitely know him well enough to know that, too. Think about it." She hung up, viciously hitting the end button. Jabbing a non-existent button with your thumb just isn't as satisfying as slamming a receiver down, she grumbled to herself, wishing she could throw the phone against a wall, she was still mad enough. But since it was Sam's phone, not hers, she restrained herself. Turning around to head back into the family room in order to return his phone to the side table, she almost ran into her mother, who stood staring at her, a strange expression on her face. Libby could swear it was half pride and half disapproval. She opened her mouth, probably to reprimand her daughter, but Libby cut her off.
"That needed to be said. Sam wasn't going to do it and obviously something happened between him and his friends, and Sam wasn't going to stick up for himself, so I did it for him," she explained.
Her mother closed her mouth and regarded her for several moments, before nodding. "I understand, but remember you can't fix everyone else's problems, no matter how much you want to. And you do have a tendency to get a little over-involved in other peoples' lives. No matter how close you and Sam are, you did just meet again today after quite a few years apart and he might not appreciate you fighting his battles for him or sticking your nose in his business."
Libby took the rebuke for what it was: a gentle reminder that a lot had probably changed over three years, and she should be careful not to push things. "I know, but I can sure as heck try. Sam's given so much to me, the least I can do is try to give a little bit back." She did not regret a single word.