Someone mentioned that I should write another Jumper story, so here it is. It's about three times the size of my last one, but still only a one-shot. Everything in thirdperson is a flashback. Sorry if it's at all confusing. Thanks to those who read my last story, loved to have some feedback. This was originally inspired by Honey and the Moon by Joseph Arthur, A Lack of Color by Death Cab For Cutie, and Where to Begin by A New Found Glory. I suggest you listen to those sometime soon. As always, I own nothing and feedback is greatly appreciated.
Enjoy.
"You're cute."
It was probably the single worst thing a boy could ever say to a girl. But he'd said it to me the first time we'd ever met, an almost adorable smile on his face before he turned and walked away, leaving me to clean up my mess of baby diapers.
We women never wanted "cute", we wanted something more like "beautiful" or "gorgeous". It felt like being thirteen again when a man called you "cute". But all I got that day from him was a single comment of cuteness laced with disinterest. Sometimes I would look back on that day and wonder what it was that I saw in him. He was an ass, rude, cynic, a complete and utter bad boy that my mother had always warned me about. He was nothing that would be good for me or anyone who would be remotely interested in me, a girl stuck working in a Wal-Mart at three in the morning.
Him and I, we had nothing in common. He was everything I would never be or would ever even have the guts to be. And after I practically buried him in diapers in isle twelve, I figured that was it, I'd never see this annoying boy again in my life. He had a British accent, so he wasn't from around, which meant that once he left my stocking isle, he was gone for good. Did I really expect to see his hot little self ever again? Not in a million years.
But three months later, he was back again. This time I managed not to look like a complete klutz before him and didn't even drop anything on his foot. He found me in isle twenty-four, stocking up dozens of new Barbie dolls in the kid's section. We never had customers at four in the morning, unless there was a huge sale, so I was scared pant-less when some random guy came up behind me and started talking.
"Still here, are you?"
Sam nearly dropped the four boxes of Malibu Barbie that were stacked in her arms at the sound of his voice in shock. She turned, pushing the Barbie's onto the shelf, and saw him standing at the end of the isle, leaning casually against the shelves with a smirk on his face.
"Jesus Christ, don't do that," she said, climbing to her feet and brushing off her jeans a bit nervously. It was four in the morning and Stan, her shift manager, was in the crafts section on the other side of the store. She didn't know who the good looking British man was or what he was doing only a few feet away from her, but it was a little bit nerve racking. "Can I help you with something?" Sam asked when he didn't say anything for a few moments. His intense gaze was unnerving.
The man, who really wasn't much of a man at only a couple years older than herself, nodded his head and pushed himself off the shelf almost lazily. "Uh, yeah. Looking for hair dye?"
Letting out a small relieved sigh, Sam shook her head with a smile. "Wrong side of the store, buddy." She kicked a few broken down cardboard boxes out of her way and motioned him to follow her. "C'mon, I'll show you."
He flashed her a thankful smile and followed her across the deserted Wal-Mart. Sam guessed he wasn't much older than her few seventeen years, but he was definitely one good looking Britain. He wasn't very tall, but had the air of mystery about him that every girl loved about a boy. With his dark jeans, boots, and leather jacket over a black tee, he was the BadBoy poster child. Why he needed to dye his already great looking hair was beyond Sam. But what the boy wanted, the boy would more than likely get. He seemed the type to get what he wanted.
She rounded the corner and stopped, waving her hand in a ta-da way. "Hair dye happy land," she said with a small smile. The guy took one look at the hundreds of choices and let out a low whistle.
"Well then, this complicates things," he muttered, striding past Sam as he started looking at the different brands and colors. He took a wide look at everything and grabbed the first box closed to him at random. "That'll do."
With a snort, Sam walked over at looked curiously at the selection he'd made and nearly burst out laughing at the box he held. "Superstar Orange?"
The guy just smirked at her before he looked down with a frown. "Okay, wrong one."
"Good idea," Sam answered with a nod of her head. She walked down the isle with interest, looking at the different shades and colors as the guy stood planet in front of the same section. She'd never had the guts to dye her hair before, it was one of the many things her mom had made clear would get her kicked out of the house. Picking up a bottle of dark brown hair dye she held it up to a section of her hair before shaking her head and putting it back on the shelf.
"Okay, I need your help," the guy stated, causing Sam to turn and look at him in confusion. He stood where she'd left him, a box of dye in each hand and a looked of pure seriousness on his face. Holding up both bottles he said, "Onyx Black, or Midnight Black?"
Sam took a few steps forward and looked at the bottles, trying to determine whether or not he was being serious. A look at his face told her he was. She let out a small laugh and grinned at him, "You do know they're the exact same color, right?"
"Wha-" the boy held up the bottles to the light, trying to see if she was right. He lowered them a few seconds later, an almost embarrassed look on his face. "That simplifies things," he muttered, putting back the Midnight Black onto the shelf. Sam shook her head in amusement and headed down the isle, intent with going back to stocking up on Barbie dolls. "Thanks for the help," the guy called after her. She stopped and turned around, giving him a smile.
"No prob, it's part of the job."
The boy let a small grin out and nodded his head. "I'm Griffin, by the way," he said in a casual way, almost like they'd been friends for ages.
He didn't look like a pedophile..
She hesitated for about 2.3 seconds. "Sam," she replied. Griffin, it was easier to refer to him now that she had something to call him, nodded again and gave a small wave.
"Pleasure meeting you, Sam."
Griffin disappeared again for almost a year and by that time, I'd graduated from high school and was bumming around my friends apartment. About three days after I helped Griffin on his hair dye escapade, I finally plucked up the courage to dye my own hair. Three hours after I dyed it a dark, rather stunning I might add, auburn color, I was on the street with all my belongings piled up around me.
My mother didn't take well to rebellion, apparently.
Thankfully, my friend Marcie had already moved out of her parent's house and going in on an apartment with a few of her older friends in the city. No one minded another person to pitch in on the rent, and I practically jumped at the chance. It wasn't quite as glamorous as I'd thought it would be, living on my own, but freedom was nice all the same. Plus, Wal-Mart loved having me full time. The commuting part wasn't that great however.
2005 wasn't an easy year, for anyone.
One of our roommates, Jack, died of a Meth overdose back in September and a few months later our other roomie, Dana disappeared. Marcie said it was a waste of time looking for her, but I spent the next week posting ads in the paper and pasting signs to every pole in the nine block radius around our building. Nothing ever showed, but I couldn't help but hate Marcie a small amount for her lack of care during the whole thing. How could she just ignore the fact that one of our friends was missing and, more than likely, dead in a back alley. I didn't understand her.
I started smoking only a couple of weeks after Dana's disappearance, a disgusting habit I picked up from Mike, one of my fellow Wal-Marters. I cut off my, then brown, hair so short that I didn't even bother doing anything to it in the morning and started spending as much time as possible out of the apartment and away from Marcie as I could. After I found the syringes in the bathroom trash can, I knew it was time to move out.
By the time I saw Griffin again, I was surprised that either one of us recognized the other.
People can change a great deal in the small time span of a year, both of us were living evidence to that statement.
"I swear to God, if you mention anything about popcorn and nunchucks ever again, I will punch your lights out Marcie," Sam groaned out, a purely disgusted look on her face as she took a sip of her Starbucks. The girl across from her, who was a few years older, laughed hilariously and shook her head furiously.
"NEVA!" Marcie yelled, drawing attention from the other nearby customers. She snorted loudly while laughing, which only caused her to laugh even harder and her face turned a dark red from lack of oxygen. Her pupils were dilated past their normal size and Sam knew instantly what Marcie had been doing in the bathroom while she'd gone to buy their drinks.
This wasn't the first time Marcie had gotten high on one of their 'days out'. It was getting old, and fast.
Sam just threw her a disgusted look and stood up from her seat, grabbing her bag and headed for the door. She heard Marcie yelling after her, telling her to stop, but Sam completely ignored her and kept walking. Breaking out onto the New York City streets, she flipped her bag over her shoulder and headed for the apartment, ready to pack up her things and beg Mike to let her crash at his place for a couple of days.
She took the subway home and fifteen minutes later was climbing the final three steps to her hallway. Stopping short at the sight of a slumped over character leaning against her door, Sam nearly dropped her keys. With a low growl, she stomped over to the sleeping man, who was blocking her way into her room, ready to kick his ass and get to packing. Marcie always had guys chasing after her, but this was the first time one of them had pitched camp in front of their doorway. He had a bag on the floor next to him and was using the door frame as a rock hard pillow.
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Sam stopped in front of the man and kicked his foot, none too gently. All she got in reply was a snort as the man turned over and snuggled deeper into his leather jacket. "Annoying twit," she muttered, squatting down in front of him and waved a hand in his face. Getting no results with her weak wake up calls, Sam found no other alternative. Poor boy. "HEY ASSHOLE!"
She'd managed to lean away from the sleeping figure in time to avoid being clocked in the face as the man jumped awake and failed around in surprise. Sam gave a satisfied nod of her head and stood back up, staring down at the half awake man in annoyance. "You're in my way."
The man looked up to her with a groggy face, looking confused. "You're taller than I remember," he said, an accent evident in his speech as Sam stared at him in a slight amount of shock. Griffin looked down at himself, and an almost comical look of dawning came on his face. Climbing to his feet slowly, he looked between himself and a speechless Sam and nodded his head. "Much better," he said and stuck out a hand, "Griffin. We've met before."
Sam looked at him, still in slight shock, and noticed his out stretched hand. Grabbing it with her own, she shook it slowly. "You're at my apartment.."
Griffin smiled slightly and nodded, pulling back his hand. "Some guy named Mike told me where you lived. I was hopin' to talk with you?"
"Right," Sam answered, staring at him like he was from another planet, still in awe that he was standing in front of her apartment door. He smirked and waved a hand in front of her face, instantly jolting her back to the present. She coughed awkwardly, "Right! Inside we go."
"Good idea," Griffin said, still smirking as he moved out of the way for Sam to unlock her door. He picked up his duffel and followed her into the apartment, shutting the door behind them. The interior of the apartment wasn't quite what he was expecting, with the dull gray walls and only a few pieces of furniture scattered in the main room. He had a feeling that Sam hadn't had much say in the decorating, or lack thereof. "Nice place," he called as Sam disappeared down a hall and he dropped his bag on the cold linoleum.
Her laugh echoed out of the hall at his words and she had a grin on her face when she reappeared, box of cereal in hand. Rolling her eyes, she plopped onto the only couch in the room and motioned him to join her. "My roommate isn't one for keeping the furniture," Sam explained as Griffin threw himself onto the couch next to her and grabbed a handful of Chex. "She'd rather pawn if off and buy some Heroine then have some place to sit."
Griffin winced as he stuffed the handful of Chex into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Sounds like a nice girl," he commented once he swallowed and threw Sam a sidelong glance, to which she just laughed.
"Great girl, stupid brain," she replied, thoughtfully eating her handful of cereal. She shook her head and looked back to Griffin, who was happily munching down on his snack. "You said you needed to talk with me?"
The Brit nodded his head and continued to eat his cereal. He propped his feet up onto the milk crates that served as a coffee table and leaned back into the couch comfortably. "I have a question for you."
Sam looked at him oddly, not understanding. "So you drove all the way out here, stalked me to my place of occupation and demanded to know where I live, conned Mike in to telling you where I lived, and then came here to ask me a question? Wouldn't it have been easier to call?"
With a shrug Griffin reached over and stole another handful of cereal. "Didn't know your number."
"Right, of course," she said sarcastically, putting her feet up next to his and leaned back in the couch while staring at the ceiling. "Okay, shoot."
"I need a place to crash," he said, not wasting any time at all.
Random hot Britain who still doesn't seem to be a serial killer, or stupid blond heroine addict? Hmm, decisions, decisions.
"Get rid of my roommate, and you can stay as long as you want," she said, reaching out and grabbing the television remote. She flipped it on to stunned silence and glanced over to see Griffin looking at her in complete surprise.
"You're serious?"
Sam nodded her head while flipping through the boring channels, settling on the History Channel. "You get Marcie to move out and I'll let you stay as long as you want, so long as you pay your half of the rent."
A wide grin came over Griffin's face, "I love you, Sam, have I ever told you that?"
"Uh, no, you haven't. But it's nice to be appreciated. Thanks Griff," Sam answered, giving him an odd look.
"Well, I love you Sam-Insert-Last-Name-Here," he said again, settling happily back into the couch and munched on another hand of Chex.
"Whatever, you crazy Brit."
"Lazy assed American."
I was completely crazy for letting him stay with me. Hell, I'd met him twice over the course of a year and I was letting the man move in with me. I was crazy, insane, and certifiably ready to go to the nut house. But, surprisingly, six months later, I was still alive and Griffin had yet to strangle me in my sleep. Three points to the man for that accomplishment.
Three hours after I'd agreed to let Griffin stay, Marcie came home high as a kite. I left the room, going to clear out a few storage things out of Jack's old room for Griffin, and by the time I came back, Marcie and all her things were gone. I never really asked how he'd done it, but the next time rent was due, Griffin and I each paid half. Larry, my landlord, had looked at me oddly when I paid him the full due on time for the first time in months. I just shrugged and climbed back up the stairs to my apartment.
Griffin turned out to be a pretty great roommate. The boy didn't smoke, snore, leave his trash around the apartment, or make me do his laundry. After three weeks of constant nagging from him, I gave the last few packs of cigs I had hidden around the place to Mike and haven't smoked a single one since. Sometimes, Griffin reminded me of my mother, in an almost frightening way. But then he'd do something completely childish and stupid, like make five boxes worth of green Mac n' Cheese for Dr. Seuss's birthday and demand that I eat it with him, even though it's completely disgusting and inedible. But did he really care?
Not in the slightest.
I kept my job at Wally World, simply because I was actually making decent money. Griffin had a job somewhere, at a fast food joint or something I guessed, which also paid pretty well. Between the two of us we managed to redo the apartment with new paint in all the rooms, some real furniture in the common area, and even sprung for a freezer for the abundance of ice cream we went through every week.
Everything in life was going as close to amazing as possible, the best my life had ever been. Then Murphy's Law decided to come and knock on our spiffy little front door. That was when everything went to hell.
"Coffee Mocha Brigade."
"Mint Chocolate Chip."
"Rocky Road."
"Reeses?"
Griffin looked in the shopping cart before nodding to Sam. "Check."
Letting out a sigh, Sam jutted out her hip and leaned heavily on her left foot, staring at the ice cream section of the cold foods. She read all the labels and frowned disgustingly at the Pineapple Peach Twist and looked back at Griffin. "I think we're good."
"Thank god," Griffin moaned, he leaned on the shopping cart heavily and slowly started pushing it towards the check out stands. "Our poor little Gary won't be able to handle this much junk, Sammy."
"Bah, nonsense you silly Brit," Sam teased as she stacked carton after carton of ice cream until the treadmill runway to the cashier. "Gary can handle anything!"
Griffin flashed her a disbelieving look but didn't argue with her. He almost never won. "What movies we watching tonight?" he questioned, moving around the cart to help stack more cartons and other items on to the runway. Sam paused in her stacking and shrugged.
"No clue, maybe whatever's playin' on cable?"
"Works for me," he agreed, pulling out his wallet to pay the man behind the counter. The man stared at him for a few moments before accepting his money and Griffin shot him an off look before thanking him and threaded his arm through Sam's, pulling her away from the flower cooler.
"They had pretty flowers!" she protested sullenly as Griffin pushed a bag into each of her hands before linking arms again.
"You have flowers at home, Sam," Griffin reminded her as they crossed the street.
"I think they died," she muttered, pulling him towards their building quickly with a shiver. The December air was freezing and they'd both left their coats in the apartment for the ice cream run. She buzzed them in and kicked open the door for Griffin and nearly ran up the flight of stairs to their apartment. "Jesus Christ, it's freezing out there."
Griffin watched in amusement as Sam attempted to unlock the door with shaking hands, and after a few failed tries, he gently took the keys from her. "Move it," he said, unlocking the door on the first try and pushed open the door. Sam sped past him, dumped her bags on the kitchen counter and dive bombed on to the couch, covering herself with the blankets instantly. He laughed and put away the groceries, except for the Coffee Mocha Brigrade and grabbed two spoons out of the drawer before joining her on the couch.
She'd already turned on the television and was flashing through the channels when he nudged her over and climbed under the blankets with her. He offered a spoon and dug into the ice cream, watching dizzily as Sam tried to find something decent to watch. She settled on a showing of X-Men on FOX, and Griffin couldn't help but find the irony of her decision. Of course she would pick the movie about people with special powers.
Sam didn't know about Griffin's 'abilities' or anything truthful about his past. He decided before he even came to New York looking for her that the less she knew about him, the better. He'd managed to keep his past under wraps for nearly a year and a half, and he really didn't have any plans to change that anytime soon. Roland was off his back since he hadn't Jumped since coming to New York and staying with Sam, so as far as Griffin was concerned, everything that happened before sixteen months ago was nothing more than a very bad dream.
He was perfectly content with being normal for now.
"I love this movie," Sam whispered as the beginning credits started to roll. She took a huge bite of the ice cream and watched the movie intently as Griffin took that moment to watch her.
If there was ever a thing called Love, this is what he thought it would be. Ever since the day when Sam had nearly killed him in an attack of diapers, he'd known she was different. Of course, that had been when Roland and his little soldiers were still on his ass 24/7, so he'd had to leave only moments after meeting her. When he managed to lose the Paladins again, his first stop was to see her. He hadn't known what to say to her, so he just asked for help to the hair dye. She'd laughed at him at his choice of dye the first time around, and he still had the box she'd helped him pick the second time.
Again, he'd had to leave her again to keep her safe, to keep her alive. But when Dane was killed along with Zak and Jessica, Griffin knew it was time to truly run and hide. He couldn't beat the Paladins no matter how hard he fought or how many of them he killed. So he ran, to her. It had been the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but in the end, the thing that made him the most happy.
A knock on the door pulled Griffin out of his thoughts as Sam mumbled that she'd get it. He paused the movie (the great thing about OnDemand) and glanced at the clock. He frowned, wondering who would be coming by at 1:34 in the morning. With a sigh, he climbed to his feet and yawned, heading for the kitchen for a glass of water. It was probably no one.
Sam looked through the peephole in the door and frowned, not recognizing either of the two men on the other side at all. Not bothering to undo the slider chain, she opened up the door with a yawn. "Can I help you?"
The two men exchanged glances as Sam looked them up and down nervously, not liking the looks on their faces. One of the men had his hand stuffed inside his jacket, making it like he was hiding a gun. Sam closed the door slightly as the taller of the two men took a step forward.
"We're looking for Griffin O'Connor," he said gruffly. "You're landlord said you two were living together?"
Sam shrugged her shoulders casually. "Nope, I kicked the bum out weeks ago. Cheating, British ho-bag," she added, trying to look as pissed off as possible.
The man looked over at his cohort briefly before looking back to Sam. "Do you have any ideas where we might find Mr. O'Conner? It's of the greatest importance that we contact him."
"No clue, might check the dumpster behind Dominoes on fourteenth though," Sam said snidely before slamming the door in the two men's faces, and quickly locked all four of the dead bolts before backing away from the door.
"What the hell was that about?"
Sam whirled around to see Griffin standing in the kitchen doorway, glass of water in hand and a look of confusion on his face.
"Who was at the door, Sammy?"
She stared at him for a moment, debating whether to tell him or call the police. "Two guys were looking for you. I'm pretty sure they were packin' guns, feel the need to explain that, Griff?" She ended up telling him, rather loudly. Sam was about to continue on with her tirade but stopped at the look of pure terror on Griffin's face. "Griff? Griffin, you alright?"
"We have to leave," he muttered, completely ignoring Sam as he ran through the apartment and threw open his bedroom door. Sam followed behind him in confusion, watching as he pulled his beat up duffel from beneath his queen sized bed and started throwing things into it. It took him only a few seconds for him to nearly empty the contents of his room into the tiny looking duffel and Sam could only watch in pure confusion.
"What are you doing?" she asked, following him through the apartment as he grabbed random things and stuffed them into his bag. "Griffin, tell me what's going on!"
The brit continued to ignore her as he ended up in the kitchen and grabbed a chair, pushed it against the fridge and climbed onto it. Opening up the cupboard over the fridge, he pulled stack after stack of bills, money. Sam stopped her movement at the sight of all the money now being stuffed hazardously into Griffin's duffel.
"Where did you get that?"
Griffin glanced up at her, acknowledging her for the first time during his current condition and quickly looked away. "I got it from work."
A disbelieving look came over Sam's face as she let out a scoff. "That's what they made banks for, Griffin. So you can put all your money in a vaultand not above our refrigerator!"
He shrugged, re-zipped his duffel and hefted it off the counter. "Banks can be broken into."
"So can our home!" Sam yelled, watching helplessly as he strode past her and into her room. She let out a half cry, half yell and followed him. He was pulling things out of her dresser and closet, throwing clothes left and right onto the floor. She noticed he was only putting her plain clothes, jeans and single colored shirts, into her own suitcase along with lots of hats and sweatshirts. "Griffin, what the hell are you doing?!"
"Packing," he said, throwing more things onto the floor and took a step back before dashing forward and zipped up her suitcase. He pushed it into her hands as he sped by and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her along with him. "We have to leave, now."
Sam let out a laugh and dropped the suitcase on the ground and wretched her arm away from him. Griffin looked back at her almost pleadingly and reached down, grabbed the suitcase and pushed it back into her hands. She shook her head and backed away, crossing her arms. "What the hell is going on, Griffin. Where did you get all that money, and who the hell are those men outside our door?!"
Griffin looked at her quickly before looking just above her head. "I can't tell you," he said, almost too softly for Sam to hear. She gave him an incredulous look and snorted.
"Then I'm not going anywhere with you. Until you tell me the fucking truth, I'm not going anywhere with you and there's no way in hell you can make me."
A silence hung in the air after she finished yelling, and Sam almost wished that Griffin would just tell her it was nothing, that nothing was wrong, and that everything really would be okay. She was caught off guard when Griffin started laughing, softly at first until he was having a full fledged giggle fit. Sam watched him, starting to think that she'd been living with a crazy serial killer after all. He let out a high whistle and rubbed a hand over his face, turning away from her briefly.
Looking back at her, his face was serious. "Do you trust me?"
She was silent for a moment before answering. "Should I?"
He didn't hesitate. "Never." The look of pure seriousness and honesty on Griffin's face shocked Sam much more than his answer did. He flashed her a small smile, "But it would sure as hell help a lot right now if you did."
Sam nodded her head almost instantly. "Then yes, I do trust you."
A full flown grin burst on to his face and he nodded in agreement. "Good."
She didn't have a chance to say or do anything else before Griffin picked up their bags, one in each hand, and disappeared in front of her eyes. One moment he was there, and then the next, he and all their stuff, were gone. Sam knew her eye's were probably the size of saucers as she took a step forward and reached out a shaking hand to where Griffin had been, moments before. She waved it around like a maniac, hoping that maybe he was only invisible and not completely and truly gone.
A loud knock on the front door drew Sam's attention away from Griffin's disappearing act and she shook her head vigorously before taking a step towards the door. About three steps away from the door, Griffin appeared in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, scaring the shit clean out of her. Her arms instantly went around his neck as he hugged her to him and her heart threatened to skip a few dozen beats. Her face was firmly placed beneath his chin and she could his heart beating at a surprisingly steady rate.
"I need you to trust me, Sammy," Griffin mumbled, his voice muffled by her hair as he buried his head in it. Sam didn't trust her voice enough to answer, so she simply nodded her head and closed her eyes just as the front door burst open and their feet left the ground.
I nearly died of fright the first time Griffin jumped us out of our apartment. I didn't like having my feet off the ground, ever. Even as a kid I hated to sit in the swings if my Dad was pushing me, because he always got me too high up in the air and I thought I was going to fall to a horrible death. Having Griffin jump us was the weirdest, most adrenaline inspiring things I ever did in my entire life.
Granted, when we landed in a cave in the middle of flippin' nowhere, I was a little pissed off. We had a three hour fight, in which I learned everything there was to know about Griffin and all the lies he'd fed me the past sixteen months. Was I mad? Hell yeah. Though, eventually, I had to forgive the annoying asshole since everything he lied about had potentially saved my life from the wretched Paladins that had been waiting in the wings the entire time. So, although he lied about everything, I still had to love the man for everything he'd done.
We managed to hide out in the Lair for a few days before they found us. I really wasn't that surprised by their arrival, from everything that Griffin had told me, it was really only a matter of time before they found us again. I had also resigned myself to the fact that when they did find us, I was going to die.
I didn't share these thoughts with Griffin, who had already lost everyone dear and close to him to the Paladins, but I knew that it was the most likely outcome. It seemed like the Paladins were ordered to go after family members and friends before the actual Jumpers, to make them emotionally wounded and more vulnerable. As far as I knew, I was the only person close to Griffin who was still alive. That made me a prime target. And shockingly, it didn't scare me nearly as much as it probably should have.
Maybe it was the knowledge of knowing that even if I did die, Griffin would still be alright. He would mourn, kill a few of the bastards, and then move on with his life. He was a whole hell of a lot stronger than I was, and he would be able to pick up where he left off, before me. My death would be the end of my story, but only be a small chapter in his. As horribly morbid as it sounded, it made knowing that my death was soon to come easier to bear.
But of course, I never told this to Griffin, who was set on keeping me alive. I didn't want to say out loud what both of us already knew. It was going to happen, whether we wanted it to or not. It was only a matter of time. And time was running out.
It happened so quickly that neither Griffin nor Sam had time to register that they were being attacked. It was nothing like that had ever happened to Griffin before, there was no warning, no nothing that could have given him enough time to save her. He had to admit that the Pallies were getting smarter, not bothering to even come in person.
But really, how could Griffin compete with a litter of grenades?
It happened when he jumped back from Florence after knocking a few heads together, and they'd thrown the grenades in through his jump scar. It was cowardly, but effective. Deadly effective.
Sam was thrown into a wall during the explosion, and it crumbled down on top of her, pinning her between the cold concrete floor of the Lair and that of the debris. She had to lay pinned there for nearly an hour, waiting for Griffin to regain consciousness. He'd been thrown in the explosion and a rock from the ceiling had come crashing onto his head, knocking him out cold.
It was the longest 53 minutes of her life.
By the time Griffin came to, Sam was nearing her own ending.
He could still see the blood pooled around her as he stumbled through the debris and fallen walls, calling out her name in search of her. She tried to call back to him, but couldn't gather enough strength. Eventually, he found her himself and nearly burst out crying at the sight of her. He jumped to her side, instantly grabbing her battered and bloody hand with his.
"Hey Sammy," he said, looking down at her half closed eyes and brushed away a stray piece of blond hair. She didn't say anything in return, just stared up at him with her green eyes painfully. He could see where her tears had already washed trails through the dust and grim on her face and he involuntarily tightened his grip on her hand. "I'm so sorry, Sammy.." he whispered.
Sam shook her head slowly, "Not your fault," she mumbled, squeezing Griffin's hand slightly. He just shook his head at her and stared down at their intertwined hands.
"I was going to save you," he said, taking a deep breath and looking at her with sorrow filled eyes. "I was going to get us out of here, find some place safe for us. I wanted us to grow old together, Sammy. I think," he laughed and took a deep breath, pushing the tears away, "I think that I love you, Sam."
She just looked up at him, a small smile on her lips as he continued talking to her, trying to ignore that her eyes were losing their shine and her grasp was loosening.
"We were gonna have a million kids, you and me," he said, scooting closer to her and leaning against the rocks that were pinning her. He looked down at their hands again and smiled. "I always wanted a girl named Margaret. It was my grandmum's name, you know. Crazy old bat she was," he muttered to himself.
"I like Margaret," Sam whispered, closing her eyes with a sigh.
'Of course you would, you're the perfect girl,' he thought to himself with a small smile. She really was perfect.
Griffin let a single tear drop down on to their clasped hands and he reached up, rubbing his face with his free hand. "I was going to save you," he mumbled, letting out a sigh as he snuffled his nose loudly with a cough. "I was gonna save you."
Sam's limp hand squeezed his as tight as she could and she opened her eyes to stare into his. "You did," she mumbled, new tears came as she continued. "You did, Griff. And I'll love you forever for it."
In that single moment, Griffin hated God and everything affiliated with him. What kind of man had he been in his past life to deserve everything that had been served to him in the past twenty years? What had he done to have each and every person that he took the time to love ripped away from him? What had he done to have Sam killed? Who had he been, before?
He grabbed Sam's hand with his other hand, holding her small one with both of his, and brought it up to his mouth. Kissing it softly, she smiled and closed her eyes again. With a content sigh, she rested her head on to the cold concrete and focused on Griffin's loving grip on her hand and the darkness behind her lids slowly starting getting brighter and brighter. She smiled softly at the sight of the light, and with another soft 'I love you', she was gone.