I'm sorry for the super late update. I've been busy, and have been spending time trying to create a decent structure for this story. Plus school is time consuming, and I have a lot going on right now. :/ Anyway, thanks to those who might still care about reading this. You have my deepest and utmost gratitude. :)

Please review, I promise I read them!

Also, I don't own anything except Samantha Kirkland, sort of.

Arthur drummed his fingers nervously on Matthew's dining table, with a cup of tea in his other hand. Matthew had recommended a nice hot cup once he and Francis had returned to his house with him, noticing the way Arthur seemed to tense. Samantha and Alfred hat yet to return to Matthew's, and Arthur had to suspect his dear brothers had something to do with that. He left them when he noticed that they were basically ignoring him, which he honestly did not mind. He needed some time to think over his priorities.

"Well, aren't we a tad grumpy, mon ami?" Francis snickered as he gracefully sat down in a chair at the table.

Arthur's gaze caught Francis' in a cold glare, "Shut it, frog."

Francis sighed as he leaned back in his chair, "You know, you are very talented, Angleterre."

"Do tell?" Arthur asked nonchalantly, sipping his tea.

"You are very good at procrastinating," Francis said simply, with a small smirk.

Arthur's face heated up angrily, "I am not procrastinating!"

Francis leaned forward, "I 'ave known you for far to long, Arzur. Whatever it iz zat you are trying to avoid, just get it over wiz."

With that being said, Francis stood from his seat and walked off to who-knows-where. Arthur bit his lip, not wanting to admit the Frenchman's advice was actually even remotely tolerable. However, Francis was right. Arthur was an extremely terrible procrastinator when it came to his emotions or anxiety, and if things were going to get any better he had to do something.

He had to talk to his daughter.

Samantha tried to ignore the American behind her with all of her might. She tried to let her mind wander elsewhere, not answering any of his questions or commenting for any of his statements. However, she felt his eyes burn into her back with every passing second, even though he had not said anything in quite some time.

She and Alfred had transported just outside of the Canadian border, much to Samantha's freezing dismay. If she had thought her country was cold, then Mathew's was a frozen waited patiently for Matthew to appear and transport them to his house, neither saying a word.

Samantha stood, her arms wrapped around herself, silently cursing her choice in clothing. If only she had spent two seconds pulling on a pair of jeans, or at least a sweater. Instead she merely ventured out in her pajamas without a second thought. Oh, what a well-dressed genius she was.

"Cold?"

Alfred's voice was quiet, at least for him.

Samantha frowned, not appreciating the fact he could read her so well, "No."

Alfred snorted, "Liar."

Samantha growled angrily at him, "I'm not a liar."

Alfred turned to her with a sad smile, "Sure."

His baby blue eyes bore into hers, almost as if he could read her like an open book. Samantha felt herself being sucked into the watery blue depths, and shrugged it off like she had a thousand times before. It was those exact baby blues that had triggered her curiosity when they were children, and the same baby blues that broke her heart when she seceded. She blinked and turned away with a huff, taking a sudden interest in the snowflakes falling softly to the ground.

"Why is that word always so touchy with you?" Alfred asked softly.

"What word?" Samantha bluffed.

"Liar," Alfred said simply. "You always get so angry when someone says that word."

"I do not," Samantha said retorted without missing a beat. "I just don't like inaccurate accusations."

Alfred sighed loudly, crossing his arms, "You're still lying."

Samantha punched Alfred's arm roughly, "Leave me alone, idiot."

Alfred rubbed his arm with a small wince, and sighed again. He decided to let that subject drop, especially since she had had a rough day to begin with...and it wasn't even lunch time yet!

Samantha's teeth chattered, and she began to grind her teeth in an effort to stop them from doing so. Her eyes scanned the area, noticing how to only thing in the area was a gas station. She had to wonder how strange the two of them must have looked to the person working inside. Samantha's thoughts were cut short when something heavy and warm fell upon her shoulders, and jumped in surprise, making her way towards her gun out of habit.

"Chill dude, it's just a jacket," Alfred chuckled. "You need to lighten up, Sam. I heard Japan telling me one time that it's bad for your health to worry, or somethin' like that..."

"He could have been referring to your comfort eating," Samantha muttered.

"Maybe," Alfred admitted, before poking Samantha's cheek. "Not that you're any better."

Samantha glared half-heartedly at him.

Alfred shrugged and stepped off to the side again, with a ghost of a smile on his face. It was probably to closest thing to a smile he had let show on his features since Texas' secession, and Samantha had to admit she was slightly relieved. She had been worried that he had gone into a permanent depression, and that it would have been all her fault. Samantha cared deeply for Alfred, she was just angry with him. Her people were still edgy towards the American citizens anyway, and that would take a few decades to fade away.

"Better now?" Alfred broke the silence.

Samantha huddled up in Alfred's bomber jacket, "Yeah...thanks."

"You're welcome," Alfred answered.

Silence fell over them once more, but it was nowhere near as tense. It was almost as though things between them were normal again.

Almost...

"I've been looking all over for you two, eh?"

Samantha and Alfred turned to Matthew's quiet voice as he walked up over to them, and Samantha let out a grateful sigh of relief, "Thank goodness!"

"Yeah, Sam was about to turn into a frozen jalepeno," Alfred commented, laughing his signature laugh.

"Well at least that's better than being a frozen Big Mac," Samantha said sticking out her tongue.

Matthew smiled, seeing how well the two of them seemed to be getting along. He hoped it would last...Samantha was known for changing her mind rapidly on things, and for having mood swings when she was honestly upset. Alfred had always been kind of a touchy guy on certain subjects, and tended to avoid anything having to do with those subjects after someone mentioned them.

"Well Matty, why are we still standin' around for?" Samantha demanded, pouting her lip a little. "I'm freezin'."

Matthew blushed, "S-sorry, come on."

"Matthew, if I've caught a cold I'm blamin' it on you," Samantha said, rubbing her nose with a violent sniff.

Matthew handed her a mug of coffee and stuttered, "S-sorry, I forgot which gas station we usually m-meet at."

Samantha waved it away with a smirk, "Don't give yourself an aneurism worryin' about it. I was jokin'."

"Of course," Matthew smiled weakly, rubbing the back of his head.

Samantha was huddled up on Matthew's couch, surrounded and covered by multiple blankets. She only brought out her hands to hold the mug, otherwise they would have been covered. Her face broke out into a comic smile as she sniffed the wonderful aroma of coffee, taking note that Matthew kept it black, which was just how she liked it. Samantha was broken out of her small euphoria when she felt something touch her foot through the many, many layers of blanket. She frowned and kicked the intruder lightly, and turned her gaze to the other figure sitting beside her as she felt it return.

Alfred was also in a large heap of blankets, although not as large as Samantha's, and was trying to refrain from spilling his own sugar and cream-filled coffee as he pushed against Samantha with his foot. His eyebrows furrowed when she continued to kick his foot, and he responded by kicking her back.

"Quick kickin' me!" Samantha growled, trying to push away Alfred's foot.

"Scoot over! You're hogging the entire couch!" Alfred whined, trying to push her with his foot.

"Am not! You have plenty of room!" Samantha replied, kicking his foot harshly.

Arthur watched the pair of them from the recliner on the opposite side of the couch, raising an eyebrow at how childish they were both acting. Francis snorted uncharacteristically in amusement as he walked by the living room and into the kitchen, saying something about making crêpes. Samantha and Alfred looked absolutely ridiculous, like two fat, squishy monsters from a bedtime story, wriggling around and kicking each other like children who came to a disagreement on what television channel to watch.

"I have muscle and I'm taller, so I need more room!" Alfred said simply, pushing against Samantha's feet with his own.

"No, you're just fat from all of those twinkies you've stuffed yourself with!" Samantha retorted with a small growl as she pushed back at Alfred's feet.

"Sam! That's not fair! I'm taller, and need more leg room!" Alfred complained.

Samantha sat up and reached her arm out through the ton of blankets that covered her, "No. Do you see this line?"

Samantha pointed at the crease where two couch cushions met, and Alfred nodded slowly, knowing where this was leading.

"This is my side, and that is yers. Don't cross my line," Samantha said, glaring daggers at Alfred.

Alfred glared back, "Or what?"

The two of them continued to glare at each other, and it quickly turned into a staring contest. Whoever looked away first, lost.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You two need to act your age."

Slowly Alfred and Samantha turned away from each other, glancing back every couple of moments. The two of them sipped their coffee slowly, and Samantha wiggled her toes blissfully, relishing the familiar warmth that her coffee gave her.

"Samantha," Arthur spoke, placing the book he had been reading beside him.

"Yes?" Samantha replied, sniffing.

Arthur's eyes locked onto hers with a stern expression, "We need to talk."

Samantha felt Alfred stiffen a little bit, something that everyone always seemed to do when the situation revolved around her.

"Okay...?" Samantha said. "But I don't want to get up."

Arthur nodded, "Fine. Alfred, leave."

Alfred's mouth fell open, "Wha- Why do I have to get up?"

"Because I need to talk to Samantha privately," Arthur said simply. "Now be a good chap, and get out."

Alfred huffed in disbelief, maneuvering his way out of the mountain of blankets he had piled up around him. He walked off, muttering to himself about how ungrateful and stupid Arthur was.

Samantha snickered, "I think you've rubbed off on him too much. He's getting grumpy."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I am not that grumpy."

Samantha raised an eyebrow, and sipped her coffee slowly.

Arthur shook his head and sat beside his daughter, "Listen, I...well..."

"Spit it out, dad," Samantha muttered, looking down at her coffee.

Arthur took in a breath, remembering what Matthew had told him. He had to approach this topic carefully, or else Samantha would simply cut him out.

"I need to ask you a question," Arthur said after letting out a deep breath. "And I want an honest answer."

"When have I ever lied to you?" Samantha question, her eyes narrowing.

Arthur sighed, "Please, Samantha."

Samantha smirked, "I'm just messin' with ya. Go ahead. I promise I'll be honest."

Arthur twiddled his thumbs for a moment, "I wish to know...why this Alamo of yours is so important."

Samantha paused to stare at Arthur for a good long while, her face void of all emotion. Arthur inwardly cursed himself, thinking that he may have not waited long enough to ask such a seemingly important question. He was about to call it off when Samantha let out a long and dawn out sigh, setting down her coffee mug.

"Ya better get comfy," she said dismally. "It's a long story."

Arthur pulled his legs up onto the couch, and sat cross-legged facing towards Samantha. Samantha turned towards him, her expression blank.

"Well, it all happened when I was little," Samantha said, looking down at her father's feet. "I had been livin' with Alejandro for a while, but I finally had enough of his nonsense. So, I rebelled."

Arthur sat quietly, waiting for her to continue.

"Alfred and I had already known each other fer a while, and when he heard that Alejandro wouldn't let me go, he decided to help me. Carlos had tried to help me before, but our...er...marriage didn't end as planned," Samantha blushed a little, and shook her head after catching her father's confused gaze. "It was more of an agreement, kind of like a pinky-swear. We were both really young, and just wanted to leave and be our own countries."

"Wait...was he that fellow I saw earlier?" Arthur asked.

Samantha nodded, "He and I used to be pretty close when we were kids, but we kind of grew apart after I was annexed. He still sends me wine every year for my birthday, though, and he still wears the boots I send him for his birthday...fer whatever reason. Other than that, we never talk. Today was the first time I've seen 'im in years."

Arthur nodded, "I understand, I've had plenty of those relationships and agreements."

Samantha smirked, "I know."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Just continue."

Samantha sighed, "Anyway, when Alfred kind of dragged me away from Carlos and decided to help me secede, Alejandro did everything in his power to keep me with 'im. I still don't really know why he wanted me to stay so badly, or why he still can't ever seem to mind his own business, but that's just how it is."

"Why did you want to leave?" Arthur asked.

Samantha frowned, "Alejandro was kind of a jerk back then, to put it nicely. He was always in a bad mood, griping about how España wasn't fair. He took it all out on me and the others who were 'round at the time, and after a while I had enough."

Arthur nodded, "I see."

"After the war started, plenty of battles took place. There were some weak ones, and then there were some bloody ones," Samantha shuddered. "There were plenty of battles that were worse than the Alamo, like the Battle of Medina before the revolution had even started. That has to be one of the worst memories of my life even though I didn't actually fight... But, the reason why the Alamo is so important to me...well..."

Samantha paused, and played with her fingers. Arthur held out his hand, and Samantha took it with a small smile.

"Go on, darling," Arthur said.

Samantha sighed, "The Battle of the Alamo was when I realized just how horrible, disgustin', and tragic wars were. I mean, I understood that people died, but I never realized how unfair wars could be. The men and I had gone to the Alamo to destroy it before the Mexicans could get a hold of it, but to make the story short, we ended up takin' refuge there. My men fought for days, tryin' to hold off the attacks and keep the women and children safe. But, after days and days of fighting, the Mexicans got the upper hand, and...we lost. The women and children were let go, but all of my men were killed. The reason that it hurt so badly though...was...because..."

Samantha was shaking, trying to keep calm. Arthur rubbed her back affectionately through the covers that surrounded her, "Because?"

Samantha took in a deep breath, "Because none of my men would surrender. We had been losing very badly, and wanted to keep everyone safe instead of letting Santa Anna capture everyone. We didn't know what he or Alejandro were going to do to the women and children, and so we fought until we couldn't fight any more. But, despite all of our best efforts, my men were slaughtered. The few men that did survive from what I remember were executed in front of my eyes. I managed to escape after I knew the women and children would be alright, but the damage had already been done. I've never forgiven Alejandro for those two weeks, and I don't think I ever will."

Arthur stared at his daughter, "So...that is why the Alamo is so important?"

Samantha nodded, "It doesn't seem like something that should have bothered me so much, but I was so little... The fact that the one person who at least attempted to raise me, the one person who, at the time, I thought of as family, had attacked and killed all of my people. That, and my men showed more bravery during that war than I had ever seen, refusin' the ever give up. It was heartbreakin'... I had never really been involved in any of my countries battles until then because no one would let me, and so the Alamo was honestly the first time I realized how bad wars are."

Arthur pulled Samantha into a hug, "I understand, believe me. Now I realize just what a terrible father I am. I should have been there for you, but I wasn't. I'm sorry, Samantha."

Samantha shook her head, "Don't be. It all worked out in the end. Besides, yer here now, right?."

Arthur nodded with a small smile, "That I am."

Arthur felt his heart swell when his daughter directed a genuine smile in his direction, and he leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. He still did not know what that key she had opened, but he decided that it was none of his business. Everyone had their secrets, even someone as young as Samantha.

Besides, he could always just ask Alfred if it came down to it.

"Samantha! Keep your head down!"

Samantha huddled down on the roof of the Alamo, waiting out the barrage of gunfire that headed their way. She clutched a large rifle to her chest tightly, as thought it were a lifeline. The gunfire slowly began to cease, not long before hundreds of loud battle cries and Spanish curse words were flung in her direction. Samantha shut her eyes and listened to the sound of the Mexican army retreating once more on their cavalry, and she knew better than to assume it as surrendering.

Samantha opened her eyes to see her temporary leader, William B. Travis, stand up with an exhausted sigh. He turned to look at her and frowned, causing Samantha to shrink down further.

"If you aren't going to fight, Little Lady, then you should stay back inside with the others," he said simply.

Samantha's throat clenched, and she managed to speak with a thick Mexican accent, "I was going to! But..."

Samantha felt tears well up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She held the rifle tightly, avoiding Travis' gaze. The other men on the roof stood and began to make their way down.

"How many?" Travis called down to the men below, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Too many," one answered with a melancholy sigh.

"When this is all over, we will provide a proper burial," Travis said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Samantha shook, "Lo siento..."

Travis shook his head, "This isn't your fault, just...I think perhaps next time you should stay inside."

"No!" Samantha cried out, tears cascading down her cheeks. "I'm going to fight!"

Samantha's hands shook violently as she held the rifle in her hands, and she began to tremble with sobs. Travis sighed and wiped some sweat off of his brow, making his way towards a ladder.

"Come Samantha," he said softly. "There's no reason for you to stay here right now."

Samantha made her way towards the ladder, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. As she climbed down after Travis, she heard a familiar voice call.

"How is she?"

Davy Crockett made his way towards them, glancing at Samantha with a worried expression.

"She couldn't even bring herself to fire," Travis said. "I think it would be best if she doesn't fight the next time the Mexicans return."

"Nonsense!"

Samantha looked up to see Tennessee's personification walking towards them with a small frown. Her long brown hair was braided in two braids, and her head was covered by a leather hat. She wore a male uniform, simply because she had been in battle and a skirt would have held her back. It was far too large for her teenage-sized body, but she managed. Her blue eyes stared at the three of them, making their way to Samantha's quivering form. Nessa Campbell folded her arms at the sight of Samantha's tear-stained face, and turned to the men.

"Has Sam had any say in this?" she questioned.

Samantha flung herself at Nessa, sobbing uncontrollably, "I-I couldn't h-hurt them! Lo s-siento!"

Nessa rubbed Samantha's back softly, "It's okay, there's nothin' to be sorry for. It just means you're a good person."

"Good people don't win wars..." Samantha said quietly, sniffing.

Nessa looked up to the men, "Go, we'll follow you."

Crockett and Travis nodded before disappearing inside.

Nessa looked at Samantha, "Look at me, Sam."

Samantha looked up at Nessa with wide eyes.

Nessa smiled at Samantha, and held something out towards her, "Here, I have something I wanna give ya. I was gonna give it to ya before all of this happened, but I never got the chance."

Samantha looked down to see a silver six-shooter in her hands, with a leather holder. Samantha's eyes widened as she realized it was brand-new, and that it had her initials carved into it.

"You're like a sister to me, Sam," Nessa said softly. "I know these battles have been hard on you, but things have to get worse before they can get better. And I promise I'll be here for ya during it all."

"What if you can't?" Samantha questioned, wiping away tears.

"Then just keep this gun around, and maybe it'll remind you of me," Nessa said with a smile. "Now, you gotta promise that you'll take good care o' this gun, okay? It wasn't cheap..."

Samantha set down her rifle and took the gun gingerly, as if it would disintegrate by her touch. The weight of it against her palms was light, and it fit perfectly in her grasp, though it was a little big. Her initials sparkled in the moonlight, sending a wave of pride through Samantha for the first time in over a week.

Nessa took Samantha's hands in her grasp, and looked Samantha in the eyes, "Now I don't care what any of the others say, you are one of the bravest people here."

"But I didn't-"

"It don't matter that you didn't shoot nobody," Nessa said sternly. "I think that it takes a hell of'a lot a' woman to not shoot someone who's threatenin' ya. You shouldn't shoot anyone unless ya haf'ta, so don't let anyone else tell ya otherwise. Stick ta' yer guns, Sam. Okay?"

Samantha smiled and nodded, "T-thank you...Nessie."

Nessa smiled and ruffled Samantha's hair, before standing up and holding out her hand, "Come on, Sam. It's time for bed. Ya need to get a good night's rest in case those idiots come back tomorrow."

Samantha took Nessa's hand, holding her new six-shooter with the other, and the two of them walked back inside of the Alamo. Nessa had never intended for Samantha to ever have to use the six-shooter, only to have it provide consolation in desperate times; she had never even seen Samantha use a gun. However, by Sunday, Nessa discovered that Samantha had a terrifyingly accurate aim. It was an aim that killed hundreds of Mexicans, with pieces of her innocent heart with them.

Samantha awoke with a start, grabbing her six-shooter and aiming at nothing in particular. After her post-dream anxiety passed, she set her gun down with a sigh. She glanced down at the shining silver in the moonlight of her temporary bedroom, and let her fingers trail over her engraved initials in reminiscence.

"I never could figure out how she knew my last name was Kirkland..." Samantha muttered to herself.

She shrugged and pushed the gun back under her pillow, lying down only to find herself staring at the ceiling. She laid there for what felt like hours, no longer feeling the need to sleep. After a few moments more of that, she got up with a grumpy huff.

"Stupid nightmares," she mumbled, making her way out of the bedroom. "Stupid weather."

Samantha walked down the dark hallway of Matthew's home and towards the kitchen, hoping to quench her midnight-munchies. She quietly searched Matthew's cabinets for a decent snack, finding bottles upon bottles of maple syrup instead. After a few more minutes of failing to find something to munch, she settled for a cup of coffee. Glancing around through Matthew's mug cabinet, she grimaced to find a rather large mug with the American flag printed on it.

"Stupid Alfred," Samantha grumbled, pulling out a red mug from behind it.

"What've I done now?"

Samantha jumped with a squeak, nearly dropping Matthew's mug. She turned to find Alfred standing there in his boxers, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"What do you want?" she muttered while turning on the coffee pot.

"I was hungry" Alfred said simply. "Why are you here?"

Samantha huffed, "Same."

Alfred rummaged around through Matthew's cabinets, "I know he hides a box of chocolate somewhere in here..."

"Maybe he hides it for a reason," Samantha retorted, eying Alfred suspiciously. "He's probably tryin' to keep you from eatin' all of his food."

Alfred shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I found it, anyway."

Samantha rolled her eyes in disbelief, "Yer unbelievable."

"I know, that's what makes me so awesome," Alfred said with a smirk, leaning towards Samantha's face.

"You have horrible mornin' breath," Samantha said, unfazed.

Alfred blew into her face before standing up and munching on a piece of chocolate. He made his way over towards the table, and Samantha followed with her freshly brewed cup of coffee. She sipped it tiredly, gazing at the wooden table absentmindedly. Alfred offered her a piece of chocolate, which she reluctantly took and began to munch on.

"So, how have you been feeling?" Alfred asked softly.

Samantha glanced up at him, "Better."

Alfred nodded, "Good."

Samantha sighed, "I'm going to have to go back home tomorrow."

"Why?" Alfred asked.

Samantha gave him a pointed look, "My country's just gettin' over a horrible storm, and I can only imagine all of the repairs I'm goin' to haf'ta make sure get done."

Alfred smirked, "I can just see all of the paperwork you're gonna have to go over when you get home."

Samantha groaned, and her head fell onto her arms.

"Being a country isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?" Alfred joked.

"Yer not annexin' me again, if that's what yer implyin'," Samantha said through her arms.

Alfred's smile faltered a little, "I wasn't."

Samantha looked up at Alfred with a crestfallen expression, "I'm sorry."

Alfred avoided her gaze, "For what?"

Samantha rubbed her nose, "Everythin'. I...I never meant to hurt ya."

"You make it sound like I'm a helpless little boy," Alfred muttered. "What makes you think I'm hurt?"

Samantha glared at him, "Just accept my apology."

Alfred eyed Samantha coldly, "Why? It's over now, anyway. What's done is done. There's nothing to apologize for."

Samantha watched Alfred in disbelief as he stood up, setting down the box of chocolates he found.

"Good night, Sam," Alfred said nonchalantly, and then he walked away.

Samantha stared at him as he went, and winced when he shut the door none-too-quietly. Samantha grabbed a handful of chocolate as she felt her stomach drop to her feet, and began to indulge in the intoxicating flavors.

"Is everything alright? I heard a door slam-" Matthew asked with a yawn as he walked into the kitchen, only to freeze at the sight of Samantha shoving chocolate in her mouth. "Sam! Now I have to hide those from you too?"

"Are you sure you have everything?" Arthur asked, glancing over Samantha's belongings once again. "You aren't forgetting something?"

"Dad, for the hundredth time..." Samantha breathed out while rolling her eyes. "Yes, I have everythin'."

Arthur nodded, "Alright, if you're positive."

Samantha nodded again, "I am."

Matthew walked up to Sam with a container full of pancakes and a rather large bottle of Canadian maple syrup, "Here's our traditional parting gift!"

Samantha smiled widely, "Thank ya Mattie! Can't ever have too many of yer pancakes."

Matthew smiled and blushed, "It's no problem. You have to promise to make pot roast though when I come visit you sometime, alright?"

Samantha laughed and gave Matthew a hug, "Alright, I promise. Just don't come in August."

Matthew nodded furiously, "I'm not making that mistake again...I almost melted."

Samantha smirked, and then turned to her father. She held out her arms expectantly, and Arthur smiled as he gave in and hugged her. He kissed her forehead looked into her dark brown eyes.

"Be safe," he whispered, squeezing her hand gently.

"I will," she whispered back, before kissing his cheek and pulling away.

Samantha glanced over her father's shoulder to see Alfred standing behind him with folded arms, staring blankly at her. Samantha sighed and called out, "You sure ya ain't leavin?"

Alfred nodded, and spoke with a rough and flat tone, "I'm sure. Goodbye Samantha."

Samantha felt a pang in her heart, and almost lost her poker face. Alfred never called her Samantha unless he was upset, which led her to believe that they weren't making amends quite as quickly as she had originally hoped.

Samantha swallowed heavily and nodded, "Goodbye Alfred."

She glanced past Alfred and waved, "Goobye Mattie! Goodbye French-fry!"

Francis smirked, "Au revoir mon chéri!"

Matthew smiled warmly, "Goodbye Sam!"

Samantha looked at her father, "Goodbye Dad."

"Goodbye Samantha, safe travels," Arthur said softly, giving her hand one last squeeze.

Samantha pulled away, grabbed her bags, and turned to form a path. She glanced at Alfred one last time, finding that he was staring at her with a still blank expression. His eyes, those enchanting baby blue eyes, gave him away, however, and she picked up on faint traces of sadness. Samantha felt her throat choke up, and giving Alfred a small and sad smile she turned at walked into the path. Samantha felt the path close around her, and she shut her eyes as she felt tears attempt to escape.

Samantha opened her eyes to find herself staring at the familiar wooden front door to her house, covered in melting snow that blew off slightly in the chilly breeze. She forced her heavy legs to walk down the dirt pathway, noticing with relief that her pecan trees had not died from the freeze. She glanced up the rocky walls of her house, and opened her front door as she came to it, realizing that she had forgotten to lock it again. As she stepped into her home, stale air greeted her with a faint scent of dust. Once she saw that nothing had been touched, she sighed in relief while tossing her bag of things off to the side.

Setting down the container of pancakes and the bottle of syrup Matthew had given her, she slumped down on one of her dining table chairs, it squeaking as she did so. Samantha's head fell into her hands only to pull back as she stared at her palms, finding them wet. She reached up and felt her cheeks, finding out that she had not kept in tears as well as she had thought. She glanced over to her house phone, seeing a giant zero greet her to show that she had no new messages.

Samantha's head fell down onto folded arms, and she cried.