Summary: After helping Cap take down S.H.I.E.L.D Sam returns home with plans to make good on his promises to Skylar. But plans never go the way they are supposed to and with his new found fame comes consequences of previous actions. His new life as Falcon will mean nothing if he can't share it with the one person he wants by his side. Will he finally be able to start the life he should have been living for the last sixteen years with Skylar? Or are there some consequences not even the Avengers can put right?
Warnings: angst, flangst, language, canon type violence mentioned, adjacent/implied smut, unwanted/unplanned/faked pregnancy, mutual pining, mentions of grieving a death, cheating (sort of), fluff, mentions of suicidal thoughts (mild).
Notes: Series complete. Sequel to "A Reason To Come Home" but can be read as a standalone. Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. For this to work Sam doesn't go looking for Bucky at the end.
Characters: Sam Wilson, OFC, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Jarvis, Other OC's.
Pairing: Sam Wilson x OFC(s).
A/N: I'm super fucking proud of this one. I really think it's my best work so far. I dig it. I really like it. No, that's wrong, I love it.
Warnings for part 1: angst, language, canon type violence mentioned, mentions of suicidal thoughts (mild).
Characters part 1: Sam Wilson, OFC, Other OC's.
Talking To The Moon
February 2001
The base camp in the desert, hundreds of miles from any form of civilisation, was silent. Sam and the moon were the only ones awake. The other five men, including Riley, that made up the small unit were still sleeping. Sam was just as tired, could have done with an extra hour, but he had a promise to keep.
Sam could find the good in any situation. Riley regularly joked it was his super power. The circumstance didn't matter, Sam would always find something positive to focus on, even something beautiful in this endless desert: The velvety night sky, the shimmering stars–brighter in a wilderness devoid of unnatural light to diminish their glow–and finally, the flawlessly rounded moon. It was so big he felt like he could reach out and pluck from the sky. Sam took the opportunity to appreciate the view as he walked away from the tents and hoisted himself up onto the back of the truck.
The metal bed of the pick-up truck was cold under him, and the jacket he used wasn't much of a pillow, but he didn't care. He'd been looking forward to this moment for days now. The green light from the satellite phone was harsh on his eyes, but he dialled the number, knew it by heart, and pressed the chunky black phone to his ear.
Skylar answered after the fifth ring with a happy sigh, "Hey, Mr. Wilson."
His grin grew of its own accord, and he replied with the same sentiment, "Hey, baby girl."
Skylar had been worried about both Sam and her brother when they joined the Air Force. Her Father had died in service of his country, and she feared the same fate for them. Anxious and stressed, she made Sam vow that he'd call as often as he could, but when he did, they both had to be outside, looking towards the sky. Talking to the moon, or faded stars, dependent on the time differences. If they were looking at the same sky it wouldn't seem like they were galaxies apart.
Sam had thought it was a little quirky when she'd initially made him promise, but during the first call, he felt like he was home, that Skylar was just on the other side of the moon and not thousands of miles away. The feeling became almost addictive, and he slowly became dependent on their calls.
The time didn't matter, she always answered and never scolded him for waking her. She needed to hear his voice just as much as he needed hers.
The way her breath puffed, he knew she was hurriedly walking to get outside. The background noise disappeared shortly before she spoke. "Oh, wow," said Skylar awestruck, "it's huge tonight."
"Oh, baby, you know it's huge every night."
She chuckled, "And it left me just as breathless."
Sam laughed loudly, and though he was far enough away from the tents, he paused to assess if the noise had stirred anyone in the camp. The coast was clear. He sighed, relieved he wouldn't be interrupted and have to cut the call short.
"Wait," she said, sounding serious, "are you sayin' you're huge every night when you're surrounded by men? Do you have something to tell me, Mr. Wilson?" Sam snickered, but before he could counter her jesting she continued, "No judgement. I'm here for you."
He loved their banter. After prom, he'd been worried she'd be shy and reserved around him. But she'd been the opposite, countered every one of his innuendos with her own, teased him as much as he teased her.
"If anyone can attest to my heterosexuality, it's you!"
The pitch of her voice rose significantly, "Well," she drawled, then laughed. "Things change, I get it. Late nights, adrenaline pumping through your veins after a battle, the moon shining bright and beautiful. But any man would be lucky to have you."
"Damn straight," concluded Sam laughing.
"No pun intended."
"You're on a roll tonight. You been drinking whiskey again?"
She sucked in an offended gasp, "That was a mistake, and you promised we'd never speak of it again."
Sam stifled a bark of laughter. Last Christmas, when they'd both been home for the holidays, they spent a night drinking whiskey with Riley, swapping stories and catching up. When they'd all retired to bed for the night, Skylar had accidentally sent him a series of naughty texts that ended with a very provocative picture of herself. It was clear from the contents the messages had been intended for her boyfriend, Mike.
Skylar hadn't realized until the next morning when Sam had pulled her aside and shown her the photo. Her cheeks had gone so red, and she'd literally thrown herself at him to unsuccessfully try to wrestle the phone from him. He told her he'd deleted the picture but he hadn't, he kept it for those late nights she'd mentioned. He had to cut off a groan as the image came to the forefront of his mind.
"How's my favorite prom date, anyway?"
"I'm good," replied Sam, and he couldn't keep the grin from his lips. "How's my favorite prom date?"
"Fine, I got that interview with the NFL."
Sam felt a swell of pride and he told her as much. The conversation continued, though Skylar provided most of the information, as protocol prohibited Sam sharing confidential details. He didn't mind, he liked to hear about her life.
The desert around him faded, staring up at the night sky and listening to her talk, he was transported to his old beat-up blue Corvette. He could envision driving the streets of his home town with Skylar beside him, telling him all about the presentation she had prepared for her interview to be the public relations manager at the NFL.
They laughed, flirted, and spoke seriously about how he was feeling, how the things he had seen affected him. He'd seen and done some pretty terrible shit, but she always seemed to know what to say to help him make some sense of it all.
The moon made way for the sun, and as it crept over the horizon, Sam reluctantly told her he had to go.
"We'll talk to the moon again, soon," said Skylar, sounding hopeful.
"Betcha ass we will."
"There you go again, talkin' about ass," she jested, and he heard her eye roll, "Seriously, Sam, this is a safe place." She giggled at her own joke. "You can trust me with your secrets."
"Baby girl, you're my only secret," he smirked cockily, "and I'd be happy to remind you exactly what the secret is."
Skylar chuckled, and he imagined her biting her lip before she replied, "Bye, Sam. Stay safe."
"Always."
The call ended but he remained watching the sky fade from black into light blues and orange. He always found it difficult to wipe the smile from his face after talking to her. Though Riley knew his best friend and sister spoke to one another, that's all he knew. Sam didn't want to give him reason to believe it was anything other than friendly.
He heard boots crunch the hardened gravel and sat up to see Riley striding toward him with two steaming mugs of coffee. Well, the piss flavored water that passed for coffee there.
"What secrets you keepin', brother?" Riley asked hoisting himself up to sit beside Sam.
Sam's head shook from side to side while he tried to laugh off the accusation, "Secrets?"
"You're not as quiet as you think, Romeo." Riley shoved his shoulder into Sam's, and Sam scowled at him for almost making him spill his drink but didn't otherwise respond.
They sipped their coffees looking out toward the sunrise. A quiet moment of contemplation before the real work of the day started.
"So, how's my sister?" asked Riley.
Sam spluttered around the lip of his coffee mug, dribbling coffee down his chin and on to his pants.
Riley snickered but continued, "She get that interview?"
"I, um…" he stuttered wiping himself down. "Interview? What?" Sam coughed to clear his throat and give himself time to think. He faked confusion, though he was partly confused; how much had Riley heard? How much did he know?
"Relax, dude," Riley advised, smirking comically. "Like I said, you're not as quiet as you think you are, and Sky is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop."
Sam laughed, huffed out a relieved breath and gave in. "How long've you known?"
"Figured something had happened a couple days after her prom. But then I overheard her talking to Sara on the phone."
"Man, I'm sorry. I didn't…" Sam shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. He was sorry for keeping the secret but not sorry for the act. "That's a lie, I'm not sorry at all. Maybe I should be but I'm not. I don't regret it. And it was only the one time. I wanted to tell you but she wouldn't let me."
Riley laughed, shoulders shaking, and threw his head back to laugh up at the clouds. "Who'd have thought the great, smoother than smooth Sam Wilson could get flustered?"
"I am not flustered."
Riley laughed harder at the warning finger being pointed in his direction, and Sam couldn't hold the stern look for more than twenty seconds before he was chortling along with him.
"Am I a shitty friend?" asked Sam, once the laughter had quieted.
Riley's face scrunched with a denial, "Nah. I'd be a shitty friend if I had a problem with it. If you're good enough to be my best friend, you're good enough to date my sister."
"Ah, man," Sam groaned, "it's not even like that. We didn't even talk about it being a possibility. It really was only one night. And that sounds way worse when I say it out loud."
"Well, if it ever is a possibility, you've got my blessing."
"Thank you, that means a lot."
"But I'm trusting her to you," Riley told him frankly and the joking tone had vanished. "You can't be some douchebag that's gonna break her heart, she deserves better. What is it that you always say?" He contemplated the answer for a moment. "Something about only ruining their lipstick?"
Sam nodded and laughed, "That's the one. A man should never ruin a woman's mascara, only her lipstick."
"Well when it comes to her, live by that mantra."
Sam chuckled but agreed, "I'll do my best."
Friday, February 21st 2014.
The video played for maybe the twentieth time, Skylar had lost count, just kept dragging the cursor back to make it start again. She was lucky she had her own office. If her colleagues had been able to see her, they for sure would have asked if she were okay and the question would have, without a doubt, caused the panic that was simmering in her chest to erupt in a flood of tears and shallow breaths that would then result in hyperventilation.
She felt sick, wouldn't have been surprised if her skin was a pale shade of green, and the replays were not helping in the slightest, yet she couldn't stop watching. YouTube user 'AvengersRoc_DontAtMe', had made a highlight reel of Sam's–or as they were calling him, Falcon's–best moves.
It started with a very shaky video of the fight on the bridge. A car was already on fire, bullets were being sprayed and Sam ducked behind a car. It cut to the next scene, Sam sneaking up on a guy looking over the edge of the bridge. Sam looked badass, Skylar wouldn't deny it. Who takes a knife to a gunfight and ends up with a gun? Sam. Only Sam could do that. The video repeated the same clip but at a slower pace, showing the finesse and fluidity of Sam's movements. She often wondered why the people who shot the videos stuck around, if it were her she'd be running as fast and as far as she could.
The video seamlessly crossed to the next clip and she watched a figure jump from the 41st floor – she'd counted – of a collapsing building. Even before the news confirmed the identity of the jumper, she'd known it was Sam. Though she knew he landed in the hovering helicopter, had seen the footage a hundred times before, she still held her breath until the aircraft levelled out and flew off-screen.
That footage had been all over the news and social media for three days now. The world was amazed, in awe of Captain America and had nothing but praise for his new high flying friend. But Skylar couldn't bask in the celebration and solidarity that the heroes seemed to inspire. She felt more alone than she ever had.
Three days ago Sam had jumped from a collapsing building and flown off in a helicopter. She had no idea if he was injured, hell if he was alive. He'd survived the jump, but what state had he been in before the jump? And what the hell had happened to his wings?
She'd grown up in a military family, going back three generations on her father's side and that included her mother working as an administrator in the Air Force where she met Skylar's father. So Skylar knew how missions were run, understood the need for radio silence. But she despised not knowing.
Sighing, she grabbed her phone and reread the messages they had exchanged. Sam had kept his promise and checked in when he could. The first message he'd sent minutes after leaving her in the parking lot.
Sam: As soon as I'm home, I'm taking you on a date. Just you and me, a quiet little booth in the back of Gino's, a bottle of whiskey.
Skylar: Lol. You know I can't handle my whiskey. You fixin' to get me drunk, babe?
Sam: Damn straight. I wanna drink whiskey and get frisky with my girl.
She envisioned his dorky eyebrow waggle every time she read that one.
Skylar: You didn't need to get me drunk the first time and you don't need to now. But I'm down for a night of Sam Wilson's charm, sweeping me off my feet.
Sam: It's a date. I gotta go dark, baby girl. Check in soon.
He'd been gone almost two weeks and it had been five days since she'd last spoken to him properly. Sam had left her a voicemail four days before, she'd been in the shower and missed his call. She pushed play now, perhaps the sound of his voice would help ease some of her anxiety.
"Hey, baby girl. I guess you're busy. Was really hoping to hear your voice. I have to be quick but just wanted you to know I'm good. Can't wait to get home. Gino's, whiskey, and you," his sigh sounded tired but dreamy, as if the thought of finally taking her on a proper date was the only thing that kept him sane. "I'll be home soon. Not soon enough, though. I miss my girl."
'My girl'
She swore her heart stopped. As a teenager, her family and professors would ask what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her answer was always 'a career woman'. The career choice differed throughout the years because like most young people, she had yet to decide on what that 'career' would be, but the only constant for her was to be 'Sam's girl', though she kept that particular detail to herself.
Sam had called her his girl before - playfully or when teasing her but that time it sounded different. Perhaps it was because that was all she'd ever wanted to be. Sam Wilson's girl. To be coveted by him. Nevertheless, the recording of his voice sounded content, genuine, and hopeful, but most of all, the endearing term sounded like 'I love you.'
Skylar had the career she wanted – public relations manager for the NFL – but the only thing that had been missing from her life's plan was Sam. And she hoped, beyond all hope, that after that kiss in the parking lot, it meant that the missing piece was finally in place.
The squeak of her door handle being turned announced a visitor, and Skylar looked up just as her assistant, Mason, stepped into her office. He closed out the commotion from the trenches when he pulled the door shut behind him, but the hustle and bustle around the cubicles had already burst her Sam Wilson bubble and returned her to the real world.
"Are you watching those videos again?"
"Guilty as charged," she confessed with a heavy sigh, locking her phone and putting it aside.
Mason lowered himself into the white leather chair opposite her, a disapproving curve to his mouth. "Girl, I swear if you don't stop, I'm going to have I.T. block YouTube."
Skylar clicked the tab closed on her screen and held her palms high, "I'm done. Promise."
"Good." He bounced in his seat, mouth curling into a satisfied grin. "Now get your stuff, it's Friday."
"You don't have to take me out, Mase."
The disapproving look returned, and Skylar had to laugh at the dramatic way he crossed his legs and rolled his eyes. "One, I know I don't have to. I want to, it's been far too long since we went out," he raised his brow as a challenge to contradict him. "Two, we should have gone yesterday but you purposely booked late meetings. And three, do not make me break a promise to Sam."
Sam had called Mason, unbeknownst to Skylar, after he left and made him promise to take care of her, which included taking her to toast Riley every Thursday in Sam's place while he was away.
"He's a big shot Avenger now, friends in high places. I'm sure he could have me locked up or tortured, which he would if I let you skip a toast to Riley." Mason remarked, then stared off into nothing thinking aloud, "although I wouldn't mind it that much if it were Captain America doing the torturing…"
Skylar barked a laugh, "Mason, focus!"
He shook his head as if to physically shake away the sordid path his mind had taken and fixed her with a bright, white smile. He jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together. "We're going to the bar, we're going to toast Riley, and when Damien arrives, you're going to tell us the prom night story."
She chuckled but began the process of shutting down her computer. "I've told you like a million times."
"I know, but Damien hasn't heard it, and it's my favourite story."
Mason and Skylar weaved through the crowd to get to the bar. The multiple conversations were deafening, the background music completely drained out by the sheer number of people. The place was definitely at capacity. They had been lucky that Henry, the regular doorman, was working that night and allowed them to skip the queue.
"Hey, Joe," Skylar greeted the barman as he approached. She had to lean closer and still shout to be heard, "It's heaving in here tonight. What's goin' on?"
"Yeah," agreed Joe with a big smile nodding his head. "Some chick tweeted that she met the Falcon in here a couple months ago and now it seems like everyone is waiting to see if he shows up again." His focus on pouring their drinks, which he knew without having to ask – a shot of Jameson each – and he didn't notice Skylar's expression drop from a smile to apprehensive dread. Joe continued, "I keep telling everyone if he were coming he'd have been here yesterday."
Once the drinks had been poured, he slid them over the bar and finally made eye contact with Skylar, immediately he became apologetic and reassuring, "Don't worry, none of us have mentioned you."
Skylar forced a smile, she wasn't worried about people knowing who she was or that she knew the infamous Falcon. It was the person behind the tweet that had the place packed to the rafters that caused concern. The combined laughter of a large group of people penetrated the worried buzz in her ears, and her eyes followed the sound involuntarily. Before she found the collective group, she knew who she would find.
Gabriella.
Sam had bedded the gorgeous Latino woman a few months ago, before he and Skylar became a thing, Skylar had been his wingman. And now she was surrounded by a group of men and women, centre of attention, no doubt retelling the story of her night with Captain America's new best friend. Skylar swallowed a thick lump of dread and quickly turned away before Gabriella noticed her staring. The last thing she wanted was to have to converse with her.
"Is that her?" Mason asked motioning subtly in the direction of the crowd.
Skylar nodded, taking a step closer to the bar hoping the people around her would further conceal her. "Yep."
Mason nudged her glass toward her and raised his own. "To Riley," he leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "and Sam's safe return."
Her smile, though more genuine than the last, was still half-hearted, "Riley and Sam."
The regular spot at the bar she would normally occupy with Sam had been taken, which she was partly grateful for. It meant she had an excuse to make Mason find a space in the back to be away from prying eyes and ears.
Once Damien arrived, and combined with Mason's bad influence, Skylar had drank a lot more than she had intended to and was positively buzzed by ten-thirty. But it was the boys who both screamed excitedly when Sam's smiling face flashed up on Skylar's phone that sat on the table.
Skylar laughed shaking her head but quickly answered the call. "Hey, babe, let me get outside. Give me a second," she told him, walking through the crowd. "Okay," she sighed happily once she passed through the doors. "I'll be able to hear you now."
"Hey, baby girl," Sam greeted a broad smile evident in his voice. "How's my favorite girl?"
"Missin' her favorite guy."
"I'll be home soon. Promise." he sighed and sounded almost as fed up as she felt. "Wait. You did mean me right? I know you have a soft spot for Henry."
"Okay, you got me, you're my second favorite guy." She laughed teasingly, "Third if we're including Mason."
"Oh, that's how it is?" he laughed loudly.
She closed her eyes and could see him, brows raised high, his smile with an edge of mischief to it. It felt so good to hear his voice, to tease him. He sounded fine, more than fine. He sounded like Sam, but she still needed to know, "How are you, really?"
"I'm fine, baby girl," he assured her.
"You jumped from the forty-first floor of a crumbling building into a helicopter and you're fine?"
"Okay, I'm sore as hell," he joked in a tone that asked if she were happy he'd admitted it. "But nuthin' a night with my girl won't fix."
She smirked and bit her lip, there it was again, 'my girl'. She wanted to ask what it meant, what it really meant. Did it hold more meaning than before? Were they just dating or more? It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have over the phone. Besides, maybe they weren't there yet. Was it too soon for the 'what are we? Where are we going?' conversation.
"Well hurry up and get your sore ass home, and I'll fix whatever needs fixin'!"
"I'll be back sooner than you think," he teased smugly. "Just gotta wrap up a couple things."
"You know where to find me, Falcon."
"Urgh," he groaned but she heard the proud smile, "don't start callin' me that."
"What'd you prefer? Eagle? Sparrow?"
He chuckled, "Sam is fine." She heard someone call his name in the background, and he puffed an annoyed breath. "I gotta go, baby," he informed her sadly, "I'll see you soon."
Every other time he ended the call with 'check in soon', her stomach fluttered giddily. 'See you soon' really meant he'd see her soon. She grinned, "Bye, babe."
Her smile remained as she made her way back to Mason and Damien, excited to tell them Sam was okay and dissect all the things he'd said to her. They were waiting for her expectantly, almost vibrating with anticipation.
Skylar had barely taken her seat when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Gabriella staring back at her with a broad smile. "I thought it was you!" Gabriella exclaimed, dipping to hug her as if they were the best of friends.
Skylar awkwardly hugged her back, her body a little ridgid. She really didn't want to talk to her, and the giddy bubble she'd floated in from her conversation with Sam was slowly decreasing in size.
Gabriella pulled back, sensing Skylar's reluctance. "I'm sorry. It's just, Sam told me so much about you, I feel like I know you."
"It's fine," said Skylar, though her tight smile told another story.
"How're you?" Gabriella asked standing straight again, eyeing Damien and Mason.
"Um…yeah, I'm good. How're…"
Gabriella cut her off, "Is Sam with you?"
Skylar's jaw flexed, a fake, polite smile on her lips. "I'm sure you've seen the news," she told her, "Sam's working."
"Have you heard from him? I've tried to call him but he's not picking up."
"It's called going dark, sweetie," Mason piped up. "Means he can't answer calls when he's busy saving the world with Captain America."
Gabriella quirked a brow, sassed back, "I don't remember asking you, honey!"
Skylar responded quickly before Mason gave the woman a piece of his mind, which she knew he was close to doing. "He's right. Sam's on radio silence. I'm sure he'll return your calls when he can," she explained.
Mason couldn't help adding, "If he wants to that is."
"Oh, he needs to," Gabriella replied keeping her eyes on Skylar. She didn't like that it sounded like a threat, liked even less the slightly twisted smirk that fixed on the pretty woman's face when she continued, "Sam's your best friend, right?"
Skylar nodded and swallowed thickly, the fizz in her gut told her something was wrong.
"So, you know we were dating?"
Skylar stopped her eyes from rolling but couldn't stop herself from scoffing. They hadn't been dating, they went on a grand total of three dates. Gabriella had cancelled the fourth, told Sam she wasn't over her ex and needed some time. She recalled thinking Gabriella was a damn fool for blowing him off, for not taking a chance to be with someone as sweet, kind, funny, handsome, courageous, brave, generous, and selfless as Sam.
"Look, he's called me a few times," explained Skylar, "I'd be happy to pass on a message when I speak to him."
She wasn't happy to pass on any message, it was simply a polite thing a friend would do and seemed the quickest way to get rid of the woman.
"When you speak to him," started Gabriella, that evil curve to her mouth stretched wider, her hand went to her flat stomach and she very gently and purposefully stroked a soft circle, "Congratulate him on becoming a daddy. And tell him to call me." Her hair flicked over her shoulder as she sashayed away.
Skylar watched until she disappeared into the crowd, then turned to Mason and Damien. Mason thrust a glass of wine toward her and she unceremoniously gulped it down.
"She could be lying," Mason stated while he filled her glass again.
"I'd bet money on it, darling," Damien agreed with his boyfriend, putting a reassuring hand atop hers on the table.
"Oh, for sure she is, Sky," Mason confirmed. "She saw him on the news then saw dollar signs."
"She saw an opportunity and she took it. She thinks she's gonna get magazine deals."
"And be the next fucking Kardashian!"
Skylar half-smiled at their attempts to help her process, but the question in her mind was screaming too loudly. "And what if she's not?" she asked bleakly, sipping her wine with a little more dignity this time. "What if she's carrying Sam's baby?"
Saturday, February 22nd 2014.
Sam's enthusiastic, breaking-the-speed-limit driving got him to Skylar's in record time. As it was early on a Saturday morning, there was a chance she was still sleeping, especially since she'd been out with Mason the night before and probably drank too much wine. He half hoped she was still asleep so he could climb into bed with her and get started on keeping his promise of showing her everything that had changed since her prom night.
He used his key to let himself in and heard voices. He paused to listen and was happy to realise it was simply a news broadcast reporting the latest headlines and that she didn't have company. He didn't mind that she was awake, he could start fulfilling his promises just as well on the sofa or the kitchen counter, no bed required.
"Honey, I'm home!" he called out, happily pausing a moment in the hallway, hoping to have one of those rom-com moments she'd forced him to watch over the years. Skylar would appear from whatever room, run happily into his arms, knocking him over. They'd end up in a tangle of limbs, laughing between breathless, passionate kisses that wordlessly told the other how much they had missed them. But he received no response.
Maybe she hadn't heard him, or she was in the shower and just left the tv on. But then he smelled the distinct odor of bleach mixed with the pungent aroma of other cleaning products. Skylar cleaned to the point of obsession when she was stressed. It was too early on her day off for her to be casually cleaning, so he suspected something was wrong.
"Unrest in the Middle East continues..." Sam followed the serious tone of the news anchor further into the house.
Skylar was seated at the breakfast bar, hands hugging her coffee mug as if she were glued to it and staring as if she was searching for something in the dark liquid. Though she didn't raise her head to glance at him, he could see she looked completely dejected and grim.
He'd seen her wear the look before, just after Riley had died, when she told Sam she wanted to throw in the towel and give up. Though he'd never told her, that had been part of the reason he had retired, to help her grieve the loss of her brother, to ensure that look never returned to mar her pretty features. But there it was, set deep in the crease of her brow, tainting the green of her eyes. Now that look was back, it scared him.
She made no move to greet him, or acknowledged his presence. "Skylar," said Sam cautiously.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and maybe it was the sight of him that brought her back to reality, but she quickly stood and rushed at him. He followed suit and they met in the middle of the room. She crashed into him almost painfully, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head in the crook of his neck.
"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, stroking her hair and squeezing her tighter against him.
She shook her head but gave no other response. He kept her locked in his arms, gave her a minute to work through whatever emotions she was feeling. Maybe it was relief he was home, overwhelmed that he was actually standing in front of her. But then he felt warm tears seep into his shirt.
"Skylar," he demanded urging her back a step and holding her in place firmly so he could look at her. "What the hell's goin' on?"
She shook him off and wiped her wet cheeks, returning to her seat. "I, um…you need to call Gabriella."
"Gabri…what're you talking about?"
"She was in the bar last night," Skylar explained. Unable to meet his eye, she spoke to her coffee. "Came over to ask if you were with me. Asked me to pass on a message."
"She's been blowin' me up, but I haven't…"
"Sam, she's pregnant," she blurted out, cutting him off.
Sam almost dumbly asked why Skylar was telling him a past hook-up was pregnant, like what did that have to do with him? But then his brain caught up. "What the…How?"
She chuckled humorlessly and finally looked up at him, "Come on, Sam, you know how babies are made."
"She can't be," His brow furrowed and his head shook with confusion and denial. He replayed his encounters with Gabby in his mind and declared, "I was always careful, wrapped up every time."
Skylar's face scrunched with a look of disgust. "Spare me the details," she advised, making her way around the bar to take her mug to the sink.
Sam watched as she poured the remainder down the drain and began furtively washing out the cup. The cloud of steam from the running hot water got thicker and he was sure it must have been scolding her hands. He rushed to her side and knocked the tap off, she froze and stared at his hand on top of hers.
"It's clean," said Sam, taking it from her and putting it on the draining board to dry out.
She took a step back away from him. "You need to call her, or go see her, whatever."
"Yeah, I do," he agreed, "but first you need to talk to me."
She began vigorously wiping the countertop but didn't otherwise respond. He took a step toward her to stop her stress cleaning, and she tried to make it seem natural but was not so subtle in walking away to the other end of the counter.
"Can you at least look at me?"
She stopped the unnecessary cleaning and gripped the edges of the bar. "Honestly? I can't do either right now." She spoke to her feet to hide the tears that ran down her cheeks, but he could hear the battle she fought to hold them back in her voice. "I know this isn't your fault. I know no-one is at fault here, but I just can't. Not right now."
"Look, I get it." Sam hesitantly made his way closer to her, "It's messed up but we need to talk about this, Sky. What all this means." He reached for her hand, and her body tensed but didn't pull away. He slowly stepped closer to her, intertwined their hand, and with a soft touch on her hip, turned her to face him. "We need to talk about us."
She stayed in place but became interested in their feet, refusing to look up. "There's no us to talk about, Sam."
The statement sounded certain but he saw the hurt the words caused her. Her brow creased and her nose wrinkled slightly like they left a bad taste in her mouth.
"Call me selfish," she shrugged and it stated that she didn't care if that's exactly what she was. "But if there was ever an us, I'd want all of you. I don't want to share you with another woman or a kid."
"You might not have to!" He groaned, perplexed. "Can you give me some time to work it out? Please."
He put a finger under her chin and tried to gently raise her head but she shook him off.
"Neither of us have said or done anything we can't take back," she explained, the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding his played nervously with the hem of his shirt. "And I think we should keep it that way."
"What if I don't accept that, huh?" asked Sam. Even to his own ears he sounded defeated, he knew he was fighting a battle he couldn't win. She was too far beyond reasoning right now.
Skylar didn't respond, just continued to stare at the ground and chew the inside of her cheek. He dipped down trying to catch her eye but she wriggled her hand free and took a step back, and Sam lost his cool, his volume increasing though he hadn't meant it to. "What if I wanna say sumthin' I can't take back?"
"I'm asking you not to," she begged and raised her head to show him the look of defiance and fury in her eyes as she shook her head. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."
He couldn't bring himself to argue with her. He wanted to, he wanted to fight her on everything she'd said. Say all the things she'd asked him not to, everything he wouldn't want to take back. Tell her he'd spent the last sixteen years wishing he was the one by her side, that she was always on his mind. The letters she sent him and the phone calls while he was serving his country helped to keep him going. That all the times he'd told her he loved her, he'd meant it but as more than a friend, deeper than family. But he couldn't do it, wouldn't be selfish and tell her everything he felt. Because he knew it would only serve to hurt her more and he couldn't stand to be the reason she was suffering.
Riley had tasked Sam with being her protector, trusted him to take care of her. It started with prom night, and Sam had taken the duty seriously. But now, making her cry, being the cause of her torment, whether intentional or not, wasn't part of the job description. He'd failed and he wasn't going to make it worse.
Just like that, in the blink of an eye, he knew it was over. Before they'd even got started it was over.
"I'm gonna be here for you," she told him with a benevolent smile. "I'm going to help you through whatever happens, like I always have been. As a friend."
He believed her. And that made him hate it that much more. He didn't want her to be his friend, but he knew no matter what happened, she'd be there by his side, being the best friend she'd always been.
"I'm sorry, baby girl." Sam stepped closer and cupped her face, kissing her forehead softly before turning and leaving.
Part 2 - Coming Monday 9th March 2020