Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
A/N: So, I've been wanting to write this story for a while. It's a one-shot, some drabble, pretty short. It feeds into the scene we see in the movie, where everyone is trying to figure out what's wrong with Laura. Please review and enjoy.
When Sam Hall awoke the morning following his first kiss with Laura Chapman, the girl of his dreams, to say the least, a part of him worried that it had all been a dream. That he had just dreamed of kissing the beautiful brunette like he had so many other nights before; that he had never confessed how much he loved her and why he had joined the Decathlon team in the first place. Sam didn't know if he could take it if those perfect images from last night had been all in his mind. There was little left that he was living for and Laura happened to be one of those things and kissing Laura was just a little something extra. Still, that something extra happened to be waking him up every morning and forcing him to hold out hope that his father, who had rarely made it to any of his school sponsored events, would make it up to New York City.
Unfortunately Sam would never have the chance to ask Laura, in so many words, if their kiss had been a real one. If his first kiss had been in his mind, as it had been so many times before.
As soon as Sam saw Laura, who was asleep against the opposite side of the couch, he knew that something was not right. For one thing, his beautiful Laura was much too pale; paler then she had been for the past several days. It was something more then the chill that had set into her skin, giving her an almost ghostly appearance. Her lips were chapped and swollen, as though she hadn't had enough water to drink in days and she was shaking almost violently, the thick coats sliding off her shoulders. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, Sam knew that there was something wrong with her. Something was not right.
"Laura?" Sam whispered, his voice scratchy and low but loud enough to be heard since there was very little sound in the room. Swallowing, he leaned forward, groaning a little as his stiff muscles loosened. Sleeping on the couch didn't make for the most comfortable sleep but he wouldn't have traded being with Laura for anything.
Laura didn't respond to his words, did nothing but shiver, her breath raspy in her throat. If Sam hadn't been worried before, he definitely was now. He sat up even more, ignoring his protesting muscles, one of the curtains that had become a blanket dropping onto the floor. The cold in the room hit him like a slap but Sam didn't even notice; something was wrong, very wrong.
Sam rested a cold hand on Laura's forehead, which was surprisingly warm. She didn't respond to his touch, her eyes didn't flutter open, her doe-brown eyes didn't meet his like they had last night. Laura just remained where she was, shaking on the couch, like the heaviest sleeper on the planet. "Laura." Sam said her name again, a little louder this time, keeping his cool hands against her forehead.
The only response his worried voice received was a low, hoarse cough that escaped Laura's lips. Her face knitted and she coughed again, her shoulders shaking with the effort and her face turned away from Sam's concerned one. Sam wasn't quite sure how and why something inside of him clicked, signaling to his brain what his heart already knew. There was something very wrong with the girl he loved and suddenly recognizing that fact sent his heart pounding in his chest.
Suddenly, Sam found it difficult to breathe, couldn't form a logical thought in his head, couldn't think of anything past what might be happening to Laura. All sorts of horrible thoughts were running through his mind. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't she waking up? What was wrong with his Laura?
"Laura?" Sam's voice was taking on more edge now, more worry and was starting to attract the attention of the others in the room. At least his voice was waking up someone in the library. "C'mon, baby." He gave her a gentle shake. "Laura, wake up."
Sam wished that it was that easy, that Laura would suddenly wake and smile at him and it would be all right. If only she would open those beautiful eyes and smile, then he would be all too willing to forget how worried he was at the moment.
But Laura didn't respond to his shaking, to his worried voice and Sam knew that she wasn't just going to wake up. She wasn't going to smile at him again and make everything all right. Sam shook her again, with a little more force this time, causing her largely limp body to rock easily with his movement. Her head lolled to the left, as though Laura lacked the energy it took to keep from moving, her tangled curls falling across her pale face.
Sam brushed her hair away again, feeling his body become stiff with growing terror. This wasn't natural, it wasn't right; Laura should wake up, she shouldn't be like this. "Laura, baby, come on. Wake up." He no longer cared how loud his voice was, if he was disturbing anyone else in the room. He didn't care about anything any more; if his father had walked in at that moment with the national guard behind him, he wouldn't have cared. All that mattered was getting Laura to wake up.
Sam felt his shoulders slump with defeat, his heart beginning to break; he rested his forehead against Laura's, which was still hot. Her skin was also slick with a cold sweat, which only added to his fear. "Please, Laura." He whispered, closing his eyes. "Please."
Sam was unwilling to open his eyes, to lift his head away from Laura, even when Elsa Sanders, the young woman of Southern decent who had quickly befriended Laura, called his name, her voice laced with confusion. "What's going on?" Elsa pressed when Sam didn't respond. "Sam, what's the matter?" She seemed to sense that there was something wrong with her friend and she knelt beside the couch.
"I don't know." Sam mumbled, finally lifting his head and looking over at Elsa. Elsa wasn't the only one in the room staring at him; only the French woman's young child was still sleeping, but everyone else was watching him intently.
Elsa looked at Laura, her eyes growing wide for a minute; the dark-haired girl looked inches away from death. In fact, she would have believed the teenager to be dead already if not for the short, raspy breaths that the girl was still managed to draw in. "Oh God." She mumbled, wanting to get closer to Laura but having the feeling that Sam wouldn't allow it. "What's happened to her?"
Sam looked away from the concerned faces in the room and back toward Laura; he wanted to see some change, some improvement in her but, if anything, she had gotten worse. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, to yank her into a sitting position and shake her until she opened her eyes again. But he knew that would probably make matters worse, because, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Laura wasn't going to wake up.
But he tried again anyway. "Laura." He said as loudly as he could manage, shaking her again. "Wake up."
Laura coughed, exhausted but not stirring; Sam let her fall back against the pillows propped behind her back. Her matted tresses haloed behind her head, making her look like the fairy tale princesses in the stories his mother had read to him as a child. She looked every bit the picture of Snow White, waiting for her Prince Charming to kiss her. Sam wished that he could deliver that perfect kiss, the kiss that would wake Laura from her sudden slumber.
Sam would have given anything to be able to kiss Laura and have her open her wide eyes and give him a faint smile. He wanted to the fairy tale endings that had always come at the end of every story his mother ever read him, wanted more then anything for the words and they lived happily ever after to apply to his life. It was seeming more and more obvious lately that fairy tale endings were increasingly hard to come by. And if anyone deserved a happily ever after, it was his sleeping princess.
But Sam knew that he was no one's Handsome Prince and it was going to take a lot more then a kiss to wake Laura.