Sam seems to be straight out from the thirties, with her long black dress, her plastered down hair and her soon-to-be red lips. She smells like peaches and Danny wants to eat her. He thinks she's splendid in black but he's certain she would take his breath away in white so he asks, "What's your opinion on marriage?"

The question takes her off guard, her lipstick, her favourite, falls in the sink, breaks in half and Sam can see the premisses of a disaster, of a bad ending taking shapes on the white of the ceramic.

She turns on the water, tries to clean the mess she just made. "Why are you asking?"

Danny is in the doorway of the bathroom, watching her every move in the mirror. He shrugs, waits for an answer instead of a question and all he gets from her is silence and indifference.

He clears his throat.

"I think—I think marriage is great. As long as you find the right person to get marry to I suppose," he looks at her reflection as he searches for his words. "When I was fighting, you know, trying to stay alive and all, when I was fighting for my life, all I could think about was: "I don't want to die. Not here, not now. I wanna go back home, hug my family and kiss my girl". There were days when things weren't too bad but there were days when everything was all dark and red. And I needed something to feel better, to feel happier. I needed someone. So I would think of you, imagine you in bright white, looking precious and gorgeous. When things got tough, when I was terrified to die, I imagined you as my wife so if I had died, I would have gone happy in a way. I just wanted you to be my wife before I die. It's silly, isn't it?"

Danny, when he was little, he used to play pretend with his dad, he used to play "Cops and Thieves", "Cowboys and Indians" and sometimes, he would play the "Game of War" where sometimes he died, where sometimes he lived, and where the blood and tears were all fake and harmless. But there, in Iraq, it was all too real, too cruel. And Death tried to take him, to choke him but it's her, with her large eyes and her large smile, it's the entirety of Sam, her petiteness and highness that saved him, that brought him back. She doesn't even know that.

"Mostly I just missed you, Sam," he confesses with a smile, sincere and lovely.

He's precious, too precious, too bad she's going to wreck him and Sam has to bite her tongue to keep her composure.

She's too tense, too scared, and it's too late when she realises she's crushed the piece of lipstick with her fingers. Now, the sink is all red and wet and pasty and Sam, brilliant, arrogant Sam, feels guilt rising up, chewing her up, because she just ruined her favourite lipstick and she's about to ruin her favourite person as well and she thinks after all of this, after the breakup and the heartache, she's going to smoke and drink and sleep. She won't cry about it, no, the weak, crying girl, she locked her up in the hôtel room in Prague. She left her there, buried her.

She doesn't turn around, doesn't dare. She knows her facade, her pretence, everything will shatter the moment she looks him in the eyes, so she settles for his reflection when she says, "I'm somebody else's wife already."

"What?"

He doesn't understand, doesn't grasp the meaning behind her words, or maybe he didn't want to.

"I'm married, Danny."

And just like that, the stars died out in his eyes. He's holding his breath, she knows, she sees him, as if he's waiting for her to tell him that it's just a joke, just a game, that she was just pretending, because she's good at pretending. But months have gone by, together they've laughed and fought, and it turns out, she's not that good at pretending anymore, not when he's around, not when it's about him.

"I'm married. I've been married for awhile now. I should have told you. I'm sorry," she tells him but she still won't meet his eyes. Instead, she keeps rubbing the red off the ceramic of the sink, she rubs hard, too hard, and she breaks her nail, but she doesn't hiss, doesn't wince because she thinks she just deserves that much for breaking his heart.

"I should have told you way before you—"

"Before what? Before we got involved? Before I got feelings for you? Before it became too inconvenient for your marriage? Before I became an inconvenience to you?"

It's the quick anger, the hot temper that make her turn around to glare at him.

"Shut up! You've never been an inconvenience to me. Not once I made you feel like you were, so shut up!" she snaps.

Sure, he could be a pain in the ass more often than not, but he is her pain in the ass. She cares for him like she's never cared for anyone else before, and he's questioning them, her feelings, doubting them even, and she wants to hit him, hit his heart, even it is all cracked and crushed already.

"Really? Could have fooled me there, Samantha," there's so much venom in his tone, in the way he pronounces her name that Sam may have cried if she were that fragile. "It was all fun and games but now you're just done playing, huh?"

"I wasn't playing, Danny!"

"You weren't honest, Sam! You've never been, right? But you've warned me, many times, so I guess it's all my fault then."

Sam closes her lips hard and turns back around, her hands holding onto the counter edges, her fingers covered with mashed lipstick staining the whiteness with red and regrets. Danny clearly realises he just hurt her feelings, and deep down, he regrets it, but refuses to dwell on it. He's furious at her.

"I'm sorry," she says again and he knows she means it because her voice, the voice he adores so dearly, cracked and now her eyes are closed, as if she wouldn't allow herself to cry, not in front of him.

He bits his lip. Sam. Danny loves her too much that it hurts, a lot, like right now. His love for her takes too much place in his heart and he doesn't mind, didn't mind but now all he understands is that it doesn't matter, it's not enough because she's married. She's married which means she's somebody else's, to love. Not his. Never his.

He doesn't know what to say, what to feel, he wants to hate her, wants to smash his feelings for her, and throw them at her face. But she looks sorry, and delicate, and frail under the light of the bathroom. She's shaking a little and the desire to embrace her, to soothe her comes to him naturally. It hurts. He wants it to stop hurting, so in the end, he just turns around, grabs his jacket and slams the door of her suite on his way out.


xxx

AN: I'm sad. Sam and Danny broke up.