The Life of Sammy

by I'mABigBoyNow

Gravity Falls may seem like a normal town, but in reality, it holds some of the most powerful and dangerous secrets in the entire world. Sammy didn't expect much excitement when he first moved into Gravity Falls. But when he starts work at the Mystery Shack and meets Dipper and Mabel for the first time, he will soon realize one universal truth: life is always unpredictable.

22. Chapter 22: The Life of Sammy (Part 2)

"So how long has this been going on?," asked Stan, after Mabel finally began to calm down, though she was still sniffling and her eyes were red. "For a pretty long time," said Dipper, who was still hugging Mabel, bless his heart. "We don't really know how it started. Things were pretty normal at first. But then, they started getting into more fights, they started avoiding each other, and even when they were both in the same room, they stopped talking to each other. It was getting pretty bad, so… they sent us here for the summer. They told us it was so we could get a breath of fresh air instead of staying cooped up at home, but… you know…"

"I'm… I'm so sorry," said Sammy, feeling ashamed and responsible for what happened. "I didn't mean to bring up those bad memories. I'm so sorry…" "Come on, Sammy, it wasn't your fault," said Wendy, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You didn't know." "Yeah, she's right, dude," said Soos. Still, Sammy couldn't help but feel incredibly guilty. "We should continue this another time," he sighed. "Maybe tomorrow, after everyone gets a good night of sleep…"

"No!," Mabel suddenly replied hotly, surprising everyone else. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. "No. I'm fine, guys, really. I wanna listen to the rest of Sammy's story." "Mabel, are you sure?," Dipper asked worriedly. "Yeah, like Sammy said, we could just do this another time," said Stan. But Mabel vehemently shook her head. "I'm fine," she said, although there was still a tinge of sadness in her voice. She sat back down and patted on her lap, which caused Waddles to jump back into her arms. "Come on, let's keep going," she said.

"Are you sure?," Sammy asked, staring at Mabel in concern. "Because I won't continue if it's too uncomfortable for you." Mabel nodded again. "...Alright," Sammy sighed. "But I want you to let me know if it's getting too much for you. So… Hold on, where was I…?" "You left off at the part when you and Isabelle got back together, dude," Soos reminded him. "Right. Thanks," said Sammy. "So after I promised to follow Isabelle's rules, what happened next was…"

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After Hutch came back that night and heard about what Sammy had almost done to Harry, he was not happy, to say the least. It was a good thing that Hutch was much smaller than Sammy and not physically intimidating in the slightest, otherwise the latter probably would have been frightened for the first time in a long while. Sure, Hutch was mostly a happy and energetic ball of fun, but man, that guy could be incredibly scary when he wanted to be.

True to their word, Isabelle and Hutch quickly found Sammy a therapist in Cambridge; an old man named Dr. Fitzgerald, who was notorious for being unapologetically blunt and harsh to many of his patients, never sugarcoating or pulling back punches. Sammy, of course, hated him immediately, but he continued showing up for his appointments anyway. If it wasn't for Isabelle, he would've spat in that man's coffee mug and forever left his office a long time ago.

And true to his word, Sammy tracked down every single person on campus that he could remember hurting or bullying at some point, and apologized to them in as sincere a manner as he could - which was to say, not that much. He started with Harry, but the former football player was too scared to even answer the door that day. Sammy thought he was a coward.

As for everyone else that he hurt, the results were more… mixed. Some of them were genuinely happy to accept Sammy's apologies, but they were people that he bumped into only once or twice. The ones that he bullied constantly were either too afraid to answer their doors like Harry, or ran away at the first sight of him. One of them even burst out crying.

Of course, this wasn't even the first step towards Sammy's redemption. Although he did apologize to everyone and refrained from bullying anyone else ever again, he still didn't really regret the things he had done. Sure, he went through the right motions and said what needed to be said, but in his heart, he was still the same as he was before; cruel and vindictive, though not nearly as bad as before he met Hutch. He still saw his former victims as weaklings who got what was coming to them, rather than feeling genuine remorse over what he had done.

Still, at least it was a start. And with Hutch and Isabelle working together, they were determined to guide Sammy to the right path and help him deal with his mental issues. Isabelle still had to attend classes at Radcliffe, of course, so whenever she was away, she would appoint Hutch to be Sammy's official watcher/babysitter, a position that Hutch was delighted to take part in. Sammy, on the other hand, was not at all enthusiastic about being watched over by his own roommate 24/7, but Isabelle insisted that this was the best choice, since she couldn't really trust Sammy not to screw anything up while she was away and he was all on his own.

Sammy showed up for every appointment with his new therapist, with Hutch by his side the whole time to make sure he didn't skip out or leave early. As much as Sammy detested Dr. Fitzgerald and his rather controlling and condescending attitude, he couldn't deny that the man was actually pretty good at his job, and even that was an understatement. The more time that Sammy spent with his therapist, the more insights and realizations that he was receiving. With the combined help of Hutch, Isabelle, and Dr. Fitzgerald, Sammy began to change and grow in ways that the old Sammy would never have foreseen. While he was still nowhere close to being the Sammy of the present day, he still found himself improving in many areas.

After Sammy formed his strange friendship with Hutch a while back, he was already improving, but it was much slower and had been yielding minor results. But after making that deal with Isabelle, that improvement skyrocketed. After an entire year of therapy and abstinence from bullying, Sammy was almost a completely different person. Well, almost. He was still crass and rough around the edges, swore like a sailor, and his craving for violence remained, though it was slowly diminishing. And that wasn't even mentioning his choice of clothing.

Seriously, a spiked collar and a tank top? That was just terrible fashion sense.

But other than that, Sammy no longer found himself craving for the next person to beat up, like his next shot or his next bottle of alcohol. He became much kinder towards others, even though that "tough and unapproachable" attitude still remained. Students on campus no longer fled or trembled at the mere sight of him, and some of them even took up the habit of waving to him in the hallways. Sammy usually responded with a silent nod or a grunt, not even bothering to make eye contact as he passed them. That was basically his way of waving back.

The most remarkable change, however, was the relationship between Sammy, Hutch, and Isabelle. Since Hutch and Isabelle were working together to get Sammy on the right track, it kind of forced them to be together for most of the time. And because of that, Hutch and Isabelle ended up becoming very close friends. The two of them would often chat and squeal over cute and girly subjects, things that would normally make Sammy roll his eyes and puke.

Not only that, but the friendship between Sammy and Hutch also strengthened as a result. Before, Sammy viewed Hutch more as a beloved… pet, rather than an actual friend. But after Isabelle came into the picture, Sammy began to see Hutch as someone that he could trust wholeheartedly, someone that he could always depend on, someone that he could always count on to try and make him feel better, even when he just wanted to be left alone.

But the truly miraculous change that occurred was the relationship between Sammy and Isabelle. Of course, said relationship started out pretty rough. That was no surprise, considering that it formed literally right after Isabelle witnessed Sammy almost strangling Harry to death. But after a whole year of them being together, something blossomed between them that was almost precious beyond words. Although Sammy initially had trouble following the first two rules - stop bullying other people and show up for therapy - the third rule, which was to learn how to really love, was something that Sammy, against all odds, was somehow able to excel at.

Isabelle was right. What he thought was love when he first laid eyes on her turned out to be anything but. He was enchanted by her beauty, of course, as well as her innocence, but that was really no better than Gideon's obsessive crush on Mabel. However, when Sammy really got to know Isabelle during their time together at the university, really got to know the person hiding underneath all the physical beauty, he found himself infinitely more enamored than how he had ever felt about her before. Isabelle was so much more than just a quiet, nice girl who wanted to help other people. She was also smart, determined, passionate, and loving, traits that Sammy had never known even existed inside of her. She really was the whole package.

For the first time in his life, Sammy truly saw the inner beauty that laid inside the soul of another person. And for the first time, he wanted his own soul to mirror that beauty.

That was ultimately the driving force behind Sammy's change. Believe it or not, there were many times in the past when Sammy did try to become a better person, in spite of having most of his remaining kindness beaten out of him every day at home. But none of those efforts were successful, because back then, he didn't have people like Hutch or Isabelle cheering him on or guiding him towards the right path. He had nobody else who believed in him. He did not even believe in himself. But this was different. This time, he had help and support from those who had no reason to do so except from the kindness of their own hearts. This time, he started to believe in himself. He wanted to change, for his friends' sake and for his own.

Of course, change isn't instant. Although Sammy had come a long way since his first day at Harvard, he still had much more to go. There were still many, many, many times when Sammy almost reverted back to his old self. And he still had to learn how to treat other people with kindness and respect, which he didn't. Just because he now thought the world of Isabelle and Hutch, didn't mean he extended those same thoughts to everyone else.

To anyone besides Hutch or Isabelle, Sammy was still an impenetrable wall, a walking fortress that hid secrets within. He refused to let anyone else get close to him, and if they dared to do so, he would make them go away. Sammy had transformed from a rabid animal that would attack anyone on sight to an angry guard dog, one who was protective and loyal to his masters, but would not hesitate to bite off the heads of anyone else who got close to him.

Dr. Fitzgerald was not afraid to call him out on it during one of his therapy sessions. By then, Hutch had stopped coming with him to those sessions, trusting him to show up on his own. "You've made good progress, but something is holding you back," said the therapist, sitting in a small plastic chair while scribbling on a clipboard like he always did. Sammy lifted his head up and stared at Dr. Fitzgerald in confusion. He was laying on a long, black sofa, just like how he had seen therapy patients in movies do it. "What the hell are you talking about?," he asked. "I think you know, Samuel," said Dr. Fitzgerald. "While you've made great strides in connecting with your two best friends, as well as changes in your own behavior, you still have an invisible wall around you. And if you truly want to become better, you must break it down."

"...I don't know what the hell you're talking about, doc," Sammy grumbled, turning his attention to the ceiling. "Yes, you do…," Dr. Fitzgerald insisted, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "There is something you're not telling me, and it is precisely that something preventing you from truly changing." "That's not true!," Sammy snapped, sitting straight up and glaring at him. "I've been telling you everything that's going on in my life! My classes, my daily rituals, and hell, I even tell you what I eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner! I'm not hiding anything from you, so don't start accusing me of something that I didn't even do, old man!" "I'm not accusing you of anything, Samuel," Dr. Fitzgerald replied calmly. "I'm only stating the truth. You only tell me what is going on in your present life, but I have yet to hear anything about your past life."

"W… What does my past life have anything to do with this?!," growled Sammy, raising his voice angrily. "That sh*t's in the past! It's got nothing to do with anything!" "On the contrary, your past has everything to do with this," said Dr. Fitzgerald. "And until you confront your own past, you're going to hit a roadblock, sooner or later. Without the past, you can't influence the present, and without the present, the future can't exist." Having heard enough, Sammy got up from the sofa and stormed to the exit. "Wait a moment, please," said Dr. Fitzgerald.

Sammy, who already had his hand on the doorknob, turned his head angrily. "What?!," he growled. The therapist had one finger up, and he was looking at a clock on the wall. In just a few seconds, the clock hit 3:00 PM. "Alright, your session is over. Now you can leave." Rolling his eyes, Sammy stormed out of the office, now in a far worse mood than before.

No matter how much he wanted to deny it, Dr. Fitzgerald was right. While Sammy was making great progress, he knew that it would all be for naught if he never bothered to face the demons of his past. And that was the problem. He didn't want to face his past.

But in the end, it was not Dr. Fitzgerald who would help him overcome this massive hurdle. Nor would it be Isabelle, for that matter. No, the person who would finally help him face and overcome the trauma of his past… was Hutch. And by complete accident.

It happened a few days after that eventful session with Dr. Fitzgerald. Since Sammy was making great progress, Isabelle and Hutch decided that he deserved a celebration. Wanting it to be a surprise, they chose not to tell Sammy until the night of the outing. They thought of taking him to a karaoke club that had recently opened in Cambridge, even though neither of them were sure if Sammy even liked karaoke. While Isabelle was in her dorm in Radcliffe, getting ready for said outing, Hutch decided to finally spill the beans to Sammy. Excited for the night to come, and filled with happiness and pride for his best friend, Hutch hid around the corner in the hallway of the dorm building, just a few feet away from their door, waiting for Sammy to come back from his therapy session. Some of the other residents gave him strange looks as they passed by him, but he paid them no mind. After a few hours of waiting - Hutch was a master of hiding and being still for long periods of time - he peeked around the corner and finally saw Sammy walking down the hall from the other end, before eventually going into their room and closing the door behind him. Hutch still waited a few minutes after that. The surprise needed to be perfect.

Unable to contain his excitement any longer, Hutch quickly left his hiding place and burst through the door, barging into the room without even announcing himself. It was the best way to surprise someone, after all. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!," he cried excitedly. "Guess what?! We're gonna go out and celebrate! Me and Isabelle think you did an amazing job this past year, so you totally deserve this! We're thinking of going to a karaoke bar that just opened! They're hosting a huge party there tonight, so we should definitely go there! I mean, neither of us had any idea if you even like karaoke or not, but I'll bet you do, because who doesn't love karaoke? So hurry up and get ready, 'cause the three of us are gonna rock all of… Cambridge… tonight…"

Hutch slowly trailed off, the excitement in him suddenly draining away. Why? Because Sammy was kneeling on the floor, holding a wooden box in his hands, and he was surrounded by numerous opened envelopes that littered the floor. But that wasn't what caused Hutch to stop and go quiet. It was the expression on Sammy's face. Instead of joy, anger, or even the usual look of annoyance that often crossed his face whenever Hutch was rambling about something, the look on his face was one of pure grief, sadness, and agony. It was an expression that Hutch had never seen on Sammy's face before. It was such a miserable and pitiful look that the former even had to do a double take to make sure he was seeing it right. But there was no mistake as to what he was seeing. Sammy's eyes were wide, and his pupils were pinpricks, like the eyes of a deer caught in headlights. Tears were streaming down his face like rivers. His mouth was wide open, as though he was on the verge of both screaming and crying. And finally, his hands were clutching the box like he had just been caught with a terrible, shameful secret.

For a brief moment, the two of them just stared at each other. Then, the expression on Sammy's face morphed into one of pure anger, the likes of which Hutch had never seen before, not even when Sammy beat him after being "humiliated" in front of his classmates.

"Get out," Sammy whispered, his voice shaking. "S-Sammy?," Hutch stammered. The former bully dropped the box, stood up to his full height, and towered over Hutch, glaring into his eyes. "I said… GET OUT!," he roared, sounding more like a beast than a man. "GET OUT! GET THE F*K OUT OF HERE BEFORE I TEAR YOUR F*KING SPINE OUT! NOW!"

Briefly, Hutch felt an overwhelming sense of dread and terror. For the first time in a long while, he believed that Sammy would actually hurt him, maybe even try to kill him like he did to Harry. His instincts told him to flee for his life. Instead, he stubbornly pushed that fear down and stood his ground. "I'm not going anywhere," he said in a soft but firm voice. "You're obviously going through something. Something very bad. And… I want to be here for you…"

In a flash, Sammy lunged towards Hutch with a speed that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, and in the blink of an eye, he had Hutch pinned to the wall with his fingers wrapped around his throat. Again, just like with Harry. "I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!," Sammy roared. "I WILL BREAK YOUR F*KING NECK LIKE A STICK UNLESS YOU GET THE F*K OUT OF HERE!" Hutch struggled to break free, but it was no use. If Harry had no chance of escaping, then Hutch definitely had no chance.

"Wait…," Hutch rasped, barely able to breathe. "You… don't want to… do this. You're letting your… emotions… control your actions. Please… Sammy… I just want to help you…" At first, it seemed as though Sammy was far past listening to reason, that he was really going to do to Hutch what he couldn't do to Harry. His hands tightened around Hutch's neck like a vice, and eventually, Hutch's vision slowly began to go dark… Until, just like that, Sammy finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in. Realizing what he was doing to his best friend, he gasped and quickly let go, then backed away until his back hit the wall. Hutch fell to the floor and coughed violently, inhaling deep breaths of air. Sammy, meanwhile, moved to the farthest corner of the room and sat down, bringing his knees up under his chin. He was shaking from head to toe, horrified by what he had almost done. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he repeated.

This wasn't at all the same as last time with Harry. Back then, Sammy was only upset because Isabelle caught him in the act. This time, Sammy was entirely horrified and disgusted with himself. He still couldn't believe he had almost done that. After everything that Hutch had done for him… He knew he was messed up in the head, but not that messed up!

Catching his breath, Hutch slowly got back on his feet, his legs slightly wobbling. He saw Sammy sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth while gripping his head, and started walking towards him. When he got halfway across the room, Sammy noticed him coming and squished even further back into the corner, holding out one hand to ward him off. "Don't come near me!," he gasped. "Just… leave. You're not…" He sobbed. "You're not safe with me…"

Ignoring his warnings, Hutch slowly and carefully crept towards Sammy like how one would approach an injured animal. Once he got close enough and was sure that Sammy wasn't about to make another move, he slowly sat down in front of him, then gently took his hands and placed them into his own. Surprisingly, Sammy showed absolutely no resistance.

"Sammy," Hutch said in a soothing and comforting voice. "You're obviously going through something right now. And whatever it is, I want to help. Please tell me what's wrong." Sammy let out a heavy sigh. Without even looking or saying anything, he gently pried his hands away and pointed at the box on the floor, which was surrounded by the opened envelopes.

Hutch gave Sammy a confused look, then got up and walked towards where the opened envelopes were. He picked one of them up and took out a slip of paper that was still inside. To his surprise, the piece of paper had messy writing on it in thick red crayon.

DEAR MOMMY,

IT'S ME, YOUR SON. I MISS YOU. DO YOU MISS ME? PLEASE COME BACK.

LOVE, SAMMY

It was a letter, and one that was written by Sammy when he was a child, from the looks of it. Hutch put the letter down, then picked up another one. Like the previous one, it was written messily in thick red crayon and was about the same exact thing as before.

DEAR MOMMY,

DAD DOESN'T WANT ME. DO YOU? CAN I LIVE WITH YOU?

LOVE, SAMMY

Feeling an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, Hutch began reading through more and more of the letters, but they were mostly the same; written in red crayon, and all of them about Sammy asking if his mother could come back home. He then looked at the envelopes that the letters came out of. They were all sent to the same address, meaning that Sammy must have already figured out where she lived. But on each of the envelopes was a large red stamp that simply said, "RETURN TO SENDER." Hutch then picked up the wooden box and looked inside, only to see that there were even more envelopes inside, with even more letters.

Hutch slowly looked up at Sammy, who was still huddled in the corner, covering his face in utter shame. At that point, he knew what he needed to do. He immediately went to their dorm room's landline phone, and dialed Isabelle's number. "Hello? Isabelle? It's me, Hutch. Listen… We may need to cancel tonight's plans. It's Sammy. He's… not doing too good. Can you come ov–?" "No!," cried Sammy, bolting to his feet without warning. Hutch was so startled by him that he almost screamed and dropped the phone. But immediately afterwards, Sammy shrunk in on himself, hunching his back and hanging his head while keeping his arms close to his sides to make himself appear smaller and less threatening. "I-I mean… Don't call her over, Hutch," he said in a vulnerable voice. "I don't want her to see me like this. Please, Hutch…"

Hutch could only stare at Sammy in both shock and worry. He had never seen his friend in such a vulnerable state before. It was honestly a bit scary… "Hello?," Isabelle asked from the other side of the line. "Hutch, are you still here? What just happened?" Hutch slowly brought the phone back to his ear, still keeping an eye on Sammy. "On second thought… don't come over. It's better that Sammy and I have a man-to-man talk," he said. "...Alright, then," said Isabelle, though she still sounded quite worried. "Just promise to call me back real soon."

"I will," said Hutch, before hanging up the phone. Then, he walked back towards Sammy and knelt down in front of him. Sammy flinched, either because he was so ashamed of what he did that he couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, or because he was afraid that he would hurt him again. "Sammy. Can you look up at me, please?," asked Hutch.

At first, Sammy kept his down, refusing to look at anything except the floor. But as time passed with neither of them budging, he finally started to look up, very, very slowly, until he was finally making eye contact with Hutch again. Immediately, he was taken aback by the kindness and warmth in his friend's eyes, and that only made him feel even more guilty.

"Sammy… Why did you attack me just now?," asked Hutch. Sammy flinched again, both by the bluntness of the question, as well as how calm and sincere he sounded. There was not a hint of anger, fear, or hatred in his voice. It almost sounded as if he asked him what his favorite food was. At first, Sammy had no idea how to properly answer that question. He remained silent for a good while. Fortunately, Hutch did not react impatiently, nor did he try to rush him. Instead, he simply sat in front of him and waited, not saying a word or moving a muscle.

Yet another reason why Hutch was a better person than he could ever hope to be…

After a while, Sammy finally spoke. "Y-you… you saw me reading my letters… That's why I attacked you," he whispered shakily. Instead of getting angry and demanding why Sammy would choose to attack him over such a small and meaningless reason, Hutch simply cocked his head to the side and asked, "Why?" with all the curiosity of an innocent child.

Sammy hiccuped and felt tears flowing down his face again. There was also a very large lump in his throat that just wouldn't go away. "Because… you saw a side of me that I didn't want anyone else to know about," he whispered. "And I panicked. I was afraid you might tell everyone else what you saw. So I… I…" He suddenly broke down and began sobbing loudly.

"I'm so sorry! Oh god, why did I do that?!," he cried. "What the f*k is wrong with me?! I thought all this therapy bullsh*t was supposed to help, but I just seem to be getting worse and worse! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" "Sammy! Snap out of it!," yelled Hutch, suddenly shaking Sammy by the shoulders. "The therapy is working, otherwise you wouldn't feel so bad right now. Don't give up on yourself, okay?" Sammy sniffed and nodded, wiping away his tears.

"I want you to tell me everything," said Hutch. "Not for my sake, but for yours. You need to vent right now, Sammy. If you bottle things up for too long, you're going to keep having these kinds of outbursts. Just get it off your chest. Trust me, you'll feel much better."

Sammy didn't want to tell Hutch anything, even though he really did consider him to be his best friend now. This was the very moment that he had been dreading, the moment that he had been trying to avoid for longer than he could remember. But then, he thought back to that therapy session he had with Dr. Fitzgerald a few days ago, and he thought back to what the old man said to him on that day: "On the contrary, your past has everything to do with this. And until you confront your own past, you're going to hit a roadblock, sooner or later. Without the past, you can't influence the present, and without the present, the future can't exist."

Although he hated to admit it, the old man was right. As much as he wanted to become better… he knew that he had to confront his past first before he could truly move on. This just might be the only opportunity for him to do so. He couldn't let it slip through his fingers, because he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if that happened. He had to take it.

"...My mom left me when I was a baby," he said. It was the first time he had told anyone about this. "And to this day, I still don't know why. Maybe she found herself another man. Maybe she realized how bad my father was. Or maybe… she took one look at me after I was born and realized that she never wanted kids. I never knew the reason why she left. All I did know was that my father became a drunkard after she left. Every day, he would reek of alcohol, enough to make my nose hairs burn. He never did anything around the house other than sit in his rocking chair all day and watch TV. And whenever the TV was broken… he would beat me. Sometimes, he would use his fists, and other times, he would use his belt. Most of the time, he didn't even have any reason. I would just be minding my own business, and he would come out of nowhere and just… Every chance I got, I would write my mom letters and sneak out every night to send them through the mail. I found her address a long time ago. I must've written hundreds of letters to her… but every single one of them just came back with 'return to sender'. She never wrote back even once. Eventually, I gave up on ever seeing her again and just stopped."

Hutch was shocked by what he just heard, to say the least. Despite having been best friends and roommates with Sammy for more than a year, he had never once heard this story before. "So that explains all those letters, then," he said, glancing at the wooden box with new understanding. "Even though I gave up on seeing her a long time ago… it still hurts," Sammy confessed. "I never threw away a single letter. I kept all of them in that box, and whenever I was by myself, I would take them out and read them because… Honestly, I'm not sure why I always read them. It never made me feel better - in fact, reading them always made me feel worse in the end - so maybe it was some kind of… self-punishment? Ugh, I don't know…"

"Sammy… I-I don't know what to say," said Hutch. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry you had to go through that as a child…" "No!," snapped Sammy, startling him. "You shouldn't be sorry! I'm the one who should be sorry! You and Isabelle have done so much for me, and all I could do in return was… was…" He was too distraught and frustrated to even finish his sentence. "Sammy, Sammy, calm down," said Hutch, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take deep breaths, like Dr. Fitzgerald taught you, okay?" Sammy did as he was told, taking in deep breaths of air to calm himself down, and fortunately, it worked. "...Thanks," he sighed, starting to relax.

"No problem," Hutch said with a smile, before it was replaced with a concerned frown. "Is there anything else you need to get off your chest?" Sammy looked down at the floor, very deep in thought. "...There is," he said. "I… The reason why I applied to Harvard… is because… I had to show my father… that I was a son he could be proud of…" He looked up at Hutch's surprised expression and chuckled bitterly. "What, do you think I like being in this sh*thole? Do you think I enjoy working my ass off every day, trying to get the best grades possible even though I couldn't care less about any of that bullsh*t?" Sammy rested his head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. "I hate my father with a passion, but at the same time… earning his approval would be my biggest dream. He was never impressed by anything I've done in my life. That was the worst part about him, not the beatings. Making macaroni art in preschool? Getting straight A's in all of my middle school classes? Becoming the best tennis champion in the history of my entire high school? None of them meant anything to him. No matter what I did to make him proud of me… he always saw me as the unwanted child who made his wife abandon us."

"That's why I applied to Harvard, Hutch," Sammy continued. "Like I said, it's a sh*thole, but it's also the most prestigious university in the entire world. I worked my ass off to get here. I thought that if I could make a name for myself here… If I could do something that would change the world, something that nobody else has done… maybe he'd finally be proud of me."

Sammy scoffed and shook his head. "It's f*king pathetic, isn't it?," he sighed. There, he thought. I poured my heart out. Now to wait for Hutch to start laug– However, his thoughts were cut off by Hutch suddenly embracing him into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry," Hutch whispered into his ear. "I had no idea you were going through something like this." Sammy was too shocked to say anything back, as he was once again taken aback by Hutch's kindness.

"It's not pathetic at all," said Hutch, letting go of Sammy and smiling at him with tears in his eyes. "In a way… I understand what you're going through. I was a weird kid growing up. My parents didn't really understand me. Not that they bothered trying. They thought that there was something… wrong with me. They took me to a bunch of doctors, psychiatrists, and even some priests, thinking my weirdness was something that needed to be fixed. But eventually, they gave up on me and just… drifted away. They didn't say it, but I knew they were embarrassed to have me as their son. They didn't even show up for my high school graduation ceremony, if you could believe it." He chuckled bitterly. "So yeah, I know how you feel. And I know what it's like to feel rejected by your family, and how it feels to want to earn their approval somehow."

Sammy gritted his teeth in anger, and his hands clenched into fists. "Well, your parents are idiots," he growled. "If they can't see how amazing you are, then they're the ones who don't deserve you. I say screw 'em! You don't need their f*ing approval." "See?," said Hutch, smiling at him. "If I don't need approval from my parents just to be myself… then why should you need approval from your father?" Sammy's eyes momentarily went wide. He hadn't thought about it like that before. For almost his entire life, everything he had done up to this point was meant to please or impress his father in some way, none of which had worked. It had never occurred to him that he never actually needed to appease his father to begin with. After all, his father had never shown him any love or respect, so why should he show him any in return?

Still mulling over what Hutch just said to him, Sammy slowly stood back up. Hutch stood up as well, and the two of them hugged again. "Feel better now?," asked Hutch. "...Yeah," said Sammy, nodding his head. "Thanks…" But even after they separated, Sammy still had a frown on his face, though it was now more contemplative. "The only reason I'm even here right now is because of my father," he said in a melancholy tone. "I had to be the best at everything. I had to be the best at chess. The best at tennis. The best at athletics. I had to have the best grades, attend the best university. I thought that by being the best at everything… it would finally make him proud of me. But if everything I did was for nothing… then why should I even stay here any longer? What was the point of anything I've done…?" "Hey!," Hutch said sternly, giving Sammy a harsh poke in the belly. "Don't start thinking like that, understand? Everything you've done did have a purpose to it. In fact, you should be happy right now! You're free! You don't have to keep being the 'best' for your father anymore. Now you can start doing it for yourself. Remember all that progress we made together, you, me, and Isabelle? It's the same exact thing."

"...Did you just poke me, you little sh*t?," Sammy asked incredulously, rubbing the spot where Hutch had poked him. "Yep!," Hutch said with a cheeky grin. "And I'll do it again the next time you stop believing in yourself!" Sammy stared at Hutch for a few moments. Then, a small chuckle emerged from his lips, which quickly turned into a full blown cackle. Hutch also started laughing, and the two of them were laughing so hard that tears were coming out of their eyes and they had to support each other to prevent them from falling over. After their laughter died out, Sammy wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Thanks, Hutch," he said.

"No problem," Hutch replied. "So… do you want me to call Isabelle again and tell her what happened?" Sammy's smile slowly vanished. "N-no," he said. "In fact, I want to keep this between the two of us. Isabelle shouldn't know. I've been working so hard to get on her good side again and… I don't want her to think less of me." Hutch gave him a sad but understanding smile. "I'm pretty sure she wouldn't, but… of course I'll keep it a secret. That's what friends are for, after all." He even made the motion of zipping his lips and tossing away the key.

If someone were to ask Sammy how he felt about Hutch when he first saw him in their room, unpacking his belongings, he would've told them that he didn't think much of him initially, other than that he was going to be a pest or a nuisance. But now, as the two of them started laughing again, he couldn't help but wonder how lucky he was to have him…

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"Whoa…," gasped Dipper, letting it all sink in. "So… that explains that outburst you had in the mines when we were trying to save Mabel's pig from the pterodactyl." Sammy winced at the memory. "Yeah… That wasn't my proudest moment," he said. "I thought I got over it a long time ago, but… apparently not." "So wait," said Wendy, furrowing her brow. "You said that Hutch had bad parents too. Is that why you two became friends so quickly? Like, you guys had some kind of connection that you weren't aware of or…?" Sammy pondered over Wendy's question for a moment. "I'd like to think it was a bit deeper than that," he said. "Sure, we had that one thing in common, but if you ask me, I think the reason why we became such good friends, despite being so different from each other, is because we sort of… complimented each other."

"Really? How?," Soos asked curiously. "Well…," said Sammy, wondering how he should go about explaining it. "Think of it this way. Before Hutch and I met each other, we were missing something important. We were… incomplete, you could say. We each had this hole that couldn't be filled, no matter what we did. But after we became friends and got to know each other more, it was like that hole was slowly being filled up. We helped each other, too. I protected Hutch and was with him in his loneliest moments, while Hutch helped me become a better person. Though if you really think about it, he actually helped me way more than I ever helped him."

"What about Isabelle?," asked Mabel. "Did you ever tell her what happened?" Sammy looked away with guilt in his eyes. "No," he admitted, shaking his head. "Hutch and I never told her, and she never found out. Though to this day, I still wonder if hiding it from her was the right thing to do." At that point, Sammy noticed that Stan was being unusually silent. He glanced at the conman and saw him staring at the floor, seemingly deep in thought. "Mister Pines?," he asked, getting his attention. "Hm?," Stan murmured, looking up at him. "Oh. Sorry about that, kid. Some things about your old man just… kinda reminded me of mine, ya know?"

"...Oh!," gasped Sammy, his eyes widening in realization. "I'm sorry. Did he…?" But Stan shook his head. "Nah, you got the wrong idea. Filbrick Pines was hard as nails and would rather hug a cactus than his own kid, but he wasn't anywhere near as bad as your pop. But that thing about your father never being impressed with you? I definitely know how that feels."

Sammy nodded in understanding and chose not to say anything more about it. "So quite a lot of time has passed afterwards with nothing too major happening," he continued. "It's crazy how quickly time flies by. Before we knew it, we were finally about to graduate from Harvard. On the last night before the ceremony, Isabelle snuck into our dorm room again. She's grown a lot braver and bolder over the years we've spent together. Before we first met, breaking the rules would've been unimaginable to her. Anyway, I was alone in the room. Hutch was out in the city, probably hugging and complimenting every stranger he came across, for all I knew." He couldn't help but chuckle. "Heh. That's something he definitely would've done. But anyway, that night, we were all trying to unwind and relax after completing our finals, so when Isabelle suddenly snuck through the window in the dead of night, needless to say, I was caught by surprise…"

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"Hey, Sammy," Isabelle replied casually, sitting on the windowsill. Sammy was laying on his bed, tired as a zombie and half-asleep, so he couldn't help but slightly jump upon seeing her silhouette in the window, his heart beating rapidly. "Isabelle?! Geez, you just scared the hell out of me!," he whispered. Isabelle giggled and crawled into the room, then walked over and slowly sat on his bedside in a… strangely seductive manner. "How ya doing?," she asked, placing her hand on Sammy's and squeezing it comfortingly. "Like sh*t," Sammy replied bluntly. "Finals were brutal. I just wanna go to sleep forever, but my insomnia's been kicking up again."

"Did you say goodbye to Dr. Fitzgerald?," asked Isabelle. Sammy rolled his eyes, even though he knew that Isabelle wouldn't be able to see it in the dark. "Yeah, yeah, I said goodbye. But I only did it because you and Hutch wouldn't stop reminding me of it. I still think that guy has a mile long stick up his ass." "But he still helped you a lot, didn't he?," said Isabelle. "...Yeah. He did," Sammy sighed. He refused to admit to anyone else, or even to himself, that he felt a tinge of sadness when the old man told him, "This is going to be our last session, Samuel."

"Hey, Sammy," Isabelle said softly, squeezing his hand a bit tighter. "I just want to tell you how… how proud I am of you. You've come so far since we first met. And I'm glad I… was able to spend so much time with you and Hutch… and I…" There was something about the tone of her voice, something that immediately caught Sammy's ear. It sounded like she was about to cry. "What's wrong?," he asked, sitting up. "What's the matter?" In the darkness, he couldn't quite make out her face, but he could tell that something was eating away at her.

"It's nothing," said Isabelle, shaking her head. But she knew that Sammy would never buy it, so she came clean anyway. "I'm just… scared," she said. "Scared?," asked Sammy. "Of what? Is someone messing with you?" There was a sharp and protective edge to his voice now. "No! No. Nothing like that," Isabelle said quickly. "I'm scared of… what we'll do in the future. We are about to graduate. All three of us. We're growing up so fast. Sooner or later, we'll have to go our separate ways, pursue our own dreams… but I don't want to leave you, Sammy…"

"Who says you have to?," asked Sammy, a small sense of anxiety beginning to creep into him. "There's no law that says we can't see each other again after college." For a moment, he was afraid that Isabelle was going to leave again, just like how she left when they were kids all those years ago. "Sammy… I plan on becoming a psychologist," said Isabelle. "For my whole life, all I've wanted to do was help other people in need. And all the time we spent together only made me more sure of what I want to do with the rest of my life. I want to help people who are broken, people who want to be fixed… people like you… Which is why… I plan on moving to California soon. I want to settle down there, start my own business in therapy…" "Then I'll come with you," Sammy suddenly said. "I'm never leaving your side again. And I know you don't want to leave my side either." Though it was dark inside, Isabelle was clearly shocked by what she had just heard. "What? But… don't you have your own goals? Your own dreams?," she asked, taken aback. "Why would you want to come to California with me? Why would you want to throw everything away and settle with me of all people?" Sammy took both of Isabelle's hands, staring at the dark void that was Isabelle's face. "Because I love you," he said firmly. "And I mean, really love you. For real this time. You taught me how to love… so let me show it to you…"

"...S-Sammy… oh god, I…" Isabelle was too choked up by her own tears to even form proper words anymore. Sammy shushed her gently by pressing his finger against her lips. "You know what?," he asked with a sly smile. "Why don't I show you right now…?" Isabelle wiped the tears from her eyes. "Works just fine with me," she said, smiling back. Immediately after, the two of them locked lips and fell back onto the bed, embracing each other. As they continued kissing, Isabelle began taking off her shirt while Sammy unzipped his pants and took it off to…

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Sammy suddenly went silent, his face burning red with an embarrassed smile on his face. "Did what?," asked Mabel, wondering why Sammy got so quiet. "What did you guys do?" Sammy awkwardly cleared his throat. "Oh, you know, we did… the thing," he said nervously. Dipper, Wendy, and Stan already knew what Sammy meant, with knowing looks on their faces, while Mabel and Soos were still confused. "What thing?," asked Soos. "C-come on, Soos. You know what I'm talking about," Sammy said, his face turning even more red. "Didn't your abuelita ever give you the talk?" "Hmmm… Define this 'talk' you're referring to," said Soos.

"They banged," Stan said bluntly. "Mister Pines!," gasped Sammy, mortified by what he just said. Wendy, who had been holding in her laughter this whole time, finally couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. Dipper's face grew red, although Mabel and Soos still seemed to have no idea what they were talking about. "What?," asked Stan, not seeing the problem. "It's pretty obvious. Might as well just say it, ya know?" Sammy groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Uh… I still don't get it," said Soos, raising his hand. "No, no, you know what? Let's just move on," sighed Sammy, his face still red. After things died down, he continued on with his story. "So after we… had a nice nap together… it was the next day. We graduated from Harvard, promised to keep in touch with each other… and then, well… Vietnam happened…"

The chuckles in the room quickly died down. The atmosphere suddenly turned heavy. "The war had been going on for a pretty long time," Sammy continued. "About seven years, if I remember correctly. After we graduated, Hutch and I were drafted into the war and–"

"Wait a minute," said Dipper, interrupting Sammy mid-sentence. "What do you mean you two were just… drafted? Just like that? Didn't you have any choice in the matter?" Sammy sadly shook his head. "No, unfortunately," he said solemnly. "Remember, it was a different time. The war was a really big deal back then, so almost everyone had to participate. If you tried to avoid it, it would've been considered 'draft dodging', which was illegal back then." "But that's messed up!," Wendy said angrily. "How could people have been forced to fight in a war?"

"That's the 1900s for you," said Sammy, shrugging. "Like I said, it was a very chaotic and tumultuous era. Back then, people did what they thought was necessary, even though most of us would consider it barbaric today." He paused for a moment, as though something had just occurred to him, then turned towards Stan. "You were there too, Mister Pines. Were you ever drafted?," he asked. "Nah," said Stan, shaking his head. "It wasn't like they even had the chance to. I, uh… wasn't living at home anymore by that time. I was out in the world, traveling wherever I wanted, livin' the dream as a traveling salesman. Frankly, I was too busy filling my own pockets to care about the war." The conman's expression turned rather grim. "I did hear plenty of horror stories about that place, though. And I couldn't help but thank my lucky stars that I didn't get my butt sent there. Er, no offense, kid." "None taken," said Sammy. "You were very lucky."

"Sometimes, I wonder what we would've done if we knew what was in store for us in Vietnam," Sammy continued. "More than likely, we would've sooner risked jail time than endure the… t-the horrors over there. But being the young, naive children we were, we didn't really see the war as anything that bad. In fact, we all thought it was going to be this 'great adventure' that you'd usually see in storybooks and movies." He sighed and shook his head in disappointment at himself. "Anyway, us being drafted into the war kind of put a wrench into our plans, to say the least. Isabelle and I were going to travel to California while Hutch stayed in Massachusetts, but as you can imagine, the war put a stop to those plans. So Isabelle and I saw each other one last time before I was going to be shipped off to the military for training, and we promised that after I got back, we would meet in front of the place where we first saw each other - our old elementary school, which had been closed and abandoned for a very long time. We hugged, cried a lot, said our goodbyes one last time… and then it was off to the military for me and Hutch…"

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Ugh, this sucks, thought Sammy, grumbling under his breath. He should've been with Isabelle right now, the two of them on a plane to California. Instead, here he was, riding a bus filled with loud, rowdy, and sweaty young men, cramped and tired and miserable.

At least he had Hutch with him. That was the only good thing about this whole thing. If not for Hutch sitting right next to him, he would've lost his mind hours ago. "You know, I've never been in the army before!," he was chirping away. "I've never been in a war before, either! What do you think it'd be like? Probably an unforgettable experience, that's for sure! You know, I had an uncle who fought in World War II! I used to ask him all about it when I was a kid, but every time I did, he would never answer. Instead, he'd get this faraway look in his eyes, like he was recalling some traumatic memory… Eh, I'm sure he's totally fine! By the way, how long is this bus ride going to take? It feels like we've been cramped in here for sooooo long! When are we gonna get to the military base? I wonder what training we're gonna do? I hope we–"

"Hey!," a voice suddenly yelled from the seat behind them. The two looked up and saw another young man looming over them from behind their seats, glaring down at them. Or more specifically, at Hutch. "Can you shut the hell up already? Your little chipmunk voice was giving me a f*king migraine!," he growled. "Heh, sorry," chuckled Hutch, not really intimidated in the slightest. "Didn't mean to bother you. My name's Hutch, by the way. And this here is my best friend in the whole world, Sammy!" He reached out for a handshake, but the man only slapped his hand away with contempt. "Did I ask for your f*king name, you loser? What are you, some kind of f*t?" Hutch winced and looked down at his feet, tightly gripping the seat cushions. He had heard that name being called to him many times by many different people over the years, but it always hurt just as much as the first time. Sammy was not amused at all…

"Hey," he said in a dangerously calm voice, narrowing his eyes at the bully. "Don't call him that." But the young man only gave Sammy a dismissive look before turning his attention back to Hutch. "So you're just gonna let your boyfriend defend you?," he sneered. "Man, you really are a fa–" In literally the blink of an eye, Sammy reached up and grabbed him by the ear, then pulled his head down and put him in a tight headlock with just one arm. "What th–?! What the hell are you doing, let go of me!," he rasped, the pressure on his windpipe reducing his voice to a dry whisper that nobody else in the bus could hear. He struggled to escape Sammy's grip, but it was pointless. It literally felt like he was being held down by a stone statue.

"I dare you to call him that again," Sammy growled under his breath, glaring into the bully's eyes. Almost immediately, the bully stopped fighting back, scared out of his wits. "Now leave us alone," Sammy whispered, "or I'll break your neck." The bully nodded frantically, not saying a single word. Sammy finally let him go, and the bully quickly moved to the back of the bus just to get as far away from the two as possible. Meanwhile, everyone else on the bus had been too busy talking and roughhousing each other to notice what had transpired.

With a satisfied smirk on his face, Sammy turned to face Hutch… and the disappointed look on his face wiped that smirk away. "What?," the former asked defensively. "Sammy, come on," sighed Hutch. "Oh, you come on!," Sammy groaned. "You heard what he was saying about you, right? That prick deserved it!" "I know," said Hutch, smiling sadly. "And I'm really grateful for that, but… I was hoping you would've… been a little bit nicer about it, you know? Maybe tried talking it out with him instead of threatening to break his neck?" Sammy huffed indignantly, but hesitantly nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Be nicer. Sorry if it'll take a while for me to get the hang of it," he said sarcastically. "At least you're trying," said Hutch, patting his shoulder.

Then, the bus stopped for a moment. Nobody was surprised. That had been happening every so often, whenever a new recruit needed to be picked up. After the new guy got on, the bus started moving again. He looked around at everyone else, immediately intimidated by how many there were. Slowly walking through the bus aisle while avoiding eye contact with anyone, he realized that there was only one seat available, and it was between two people that he had never seen or met before. Swallowing his anxiety, he walked up to them and spoke.

"Uh… hey, guys," he said nervously, catching their attention. "Do you mind if I… sit next to you guys?" Sammy and Hutch stopped their conversation and looked up at him, the former in a dismissive manner, and the latter in an excited one. The new guy was quite tall, but he was as skinny as a rail, and it looked like a strong gust of wind could blow him away. He had black hair that was neatly combed, acne on his face, and crooked teeth that jutted from his mouth.

"Yeah, sure!," said Hutch, scooting over to make room for the new guy. Sammy seemed much less enthusiastic about it, but nodded silently and looked out of the window with his arms crossed. The new guy sat next to Hutch, and for a few minutes after that, the three of them were completely silent. Sammy would've been totally fine with them remaining that way until they got to the military base, but Hutch, of course, could never sit still for more than five minutes without saying something. "Welp, this is getting super awkward so I'm just gonna break the ice since it's pretty clear that neither of you are gonna do it! The name's Hutch! And this is Sammy, my best friend in the whole world!" "Hutch, do you really have to introduce us to every single person that we come across?," Sammy groaned. "Um… Am I not wanted here or…?," asked the new guy, who was about to get up and look for another seat. "Nah, you're totally wanted here! Come on, sit!," said Hutch, grabbing the new guy by the arm and pulling him back down. "So what did you say your name was again?" "...I didn't," said the new guy, confused. "It's Carlson."

"Well, hello, Carlson!," said Hutch. "You as excited as we are?" "...Honestly, not really," said Carlson, with an expression on his face that appeared to be a mix between homesickness and dread. "In fact, this is kind of the last place I want to be right now…" "Hm! Yeah, you and me both," scoffed Sammy, still upset about how his plans with Isabelle were ruined.

"Aw, don't be so upset! Come on, you guys, cheer up!," said Hutch, pinching both of their cheeks. Sammy was already used to it, so he didn't do anything or react in any way. Carlson, on the other hand, was not used to Hutch's antics, so he was understandably taken aback. "Think of this as an adventure!," Hutch continued, not realizing how absolutely wrong he was going to be. "We're like… like… Ooh, like the three musketeers!" "Three musketeers?," Sammy asked pointedly, while narrowing his eyes at Carlson. For a long time, it was just the two of them, or three if Isabelle was included. Adding yet another member to their circle just didn't sit right with Sammy. Carlson noticed how Sammy was glaring at him and smiled nervously.

Hutch, although as hyperactive and optimistic as Mabel, was no fool. He could easily tell that Sammy was not comfortable with the idea of a new friend. That was why he felt that adding Carlson to their friendship circle would be a great help. Although Sammy had already improved leaps and bounds since they first met, he was still rather sullen around strangers, and that was something that Hutch wanted to fix. He knew that he and Isabelle would likely not always be around, so it was important that he get Sammy more comfortable around other people besides them. "Yeah! Three musketeers!," he said happily. "What do you think, Carlson?"

"I mean… why not?," Carlson said nervously. "It's better than being alone. Sure, I'm fine with us being the, uh… three musketeers. If your friend's okay with it, that is." Hutch turned to Sammy and gave him a pleading look. "Can Carlson be our new friend? Pleeeaaase!," he said, giving him the big ol' puppy dog eyes. Sammy winced. "Damn it, Hutch," he groaned. "You know I can't say no to that stupid face!" "I know! That's why I keep using it!," Hutch chirped.

Sammy groaned again, but finally relented. "Alright, fine!," he sighed. "The new guy can hang out with us… I guess…" "Woohoo!," Hutch cheered loudly, raising his fists in the air. All the other boys in the bus stared at him, and even the bus driver shushed him, but Hutch didn't care. "This is gonna be great!," he rattled on, hugging Sammy and Carlson with both arms. "We're all gonna become best buddies, go to Vietnam together, and–" He gasped. "We should introduce him to Isabelle! You'll love her, Carlson. And I'm sure that she'll love you just as much!"

Hutch couldn't have said that in a worse way if he tried. Immediately, Sammy glared at Carlson heatedly, growling possessively. Carlson gulped and looked away, already regretting the decision he just made. This is going to be a long day, he thought morosely.

After a long and tiring day of being cramped in a smelly bus, they finally arrived at the military base that they were going to be training in to prepare for the war. The base was very far away from any civilization, located in the middle of a desert. It was already midnight by the time they got off the bus, but the air was still thick and humid. Usually, the boys would've been thrilled to be stepping into a military base for the first time, but by then, they had spent so much time in the bus that they were too exhausted and miserable to do anything other than grumble under their breaths. Even Hutch, the ever-cheerful one, just wanted to face plant onto the ground and sleep for hours. Everyone was forced into a line, then given orders to change into their military attire. After that, they were assigned their own living quarters. Fortunately, Sammy, Hutch, and Carlson were able to get a room all for themselves. Then, it was finally goodnight…

…for about five hours, anyway. Suddenly, a harsh and grating voice blared through the loudspeaker in their room, waking them all up. "ALRIGHT, YOU MAGGOTS! GET YOUR LAZY BUMS OUT THE DOOR AND SHOW UP AT THE TRAINING FIELD OUTSIDE! ANYONE WHO DOESN'T SHOW UP WILL BE SEVERELY REPRIMANDED!" "Huh?! Wh– what's going on?!," cried Hutch, sitting up in his bed, still half-asleep. Carlson was so startled by the announcement that he screamed and tumbled out of bed. Sammy did the same thing and banged his head on the floor, causing him to spit out every curse, swear, and slur that came to his mind.

Unfortunately for them, that was only the beginning. After being so rudely awoken at six in the morning, the three of them had almost no time to prepare for the day, not even to brush their teeth. They joined everyone else and filed out of the building, then had to wait for their drill instructor at the so-called "training field", which was just a huge patch of sand in the middle of nowhere. Everyone was beyond exhausted, grumbling to themselves. They all stood in a single file line, with Sammy, Hutch, and Carlson standing side by side. Even though all three of them felt like the walking dead, Hutch still tried his best to remain optimistic. "Cheer up, guys," he said in as cheerful a voice as he could, though it came out as a mumble due to how downright tired he was. "It's our first day of training. Think of it as a… *yawn* …great adventure…"

"If this is your idea of an adventure, then I want no f*ing part of it," Sammy growled. His hair was in disarray, there were dark rings under his eyes, and a thin line of drool was dribbling down his chin. "God, I can't wait to get out of this hellhole…" "Ditto," mumbled Carlson, trying his best to stay awake and not fall to the ground. "By the way, where is our assigned drill instructor? What do you think he's doing right now?" Sammy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "He's making us suffer, that's what he's doing. Letting us freeze our b*s off while he's inside, ja–"

"LISTEN UP, YOU MAGGOTS!," yelled a voice, causing everyone, including Sammy, to instinctively stand at attention. A large and intimidating figure suddenly marched in front of them, his chest puffed out and his arms crossed behind his back. Judging by his voice, it was obvious that he was the one who screamed at them through the loudspeaker earlier. The man was huge, with shoulders shaped like bowling balls, arms like tree trunks, and a large chin that was shaped like a violin. He had a large, nasty scar where his left eye was supposed to be. He was dressed in a green military uniform, with a green hat, and a whistle hanging around his neck.

"I'm gonna be your drill instructor for the rest of your stay in this miserable place!," the man boomed, his voice instantly commanding attention and rousing anyone who was still half asleep. "The name's Brutus, but here, you're all gonna refer to me as Sergeant Brute, is that understood?!" "YES, SERGEANT BRUTE!," the vast majority of the boys shouted at once. It was clear that this was a man you should never trifle with. However, a few of them were still a bit too cocky for their own good, and one of them just so happened to be Sammy.

"Sergeant Brute? That nutcase really expects us to call him that?," Sammy sneered under his breath. "Dude, don't antagonize him!," Carlson whispered nervously, already deathly terrified of their drill instructor. "What if he hears you?" Sammy rolled his eyes. "There's literally hundreds of us right now. I don't think he's gonna notice me out of all those–" However, Sammy never got to finish his sentence, because the moment he looked away from Carlson and straight ahead, he saw Sergeant Brute's eyes only an inch away from his own, glaring at him.

"Motherf–!," Sammy swore, startled, bewildered, and bamboozled. "How did you–?" "Got somethin' you wanna say to my face, private?!," Sergeant Brute roared in Sammy's face, drops of spittle flying from his mouth. Sammy wiped his face in disgust, then scowled back at the drill instructor. "Yeah, I got something to say to you. This whole thing is bull!," he said hotly.

"Sammy!," Hutch scolded, before turning to Sergeant Brute nervously. "I am so, so sorry about his behavior, sir, er, Sergeant B-Brute. He's been getting better and–" "I wasn't talking to you, shortstack! Now shut up!," the sergeant yelled. Hutch immediately clammed up and hung his head in fear. However, that only made Sammy angrier. "Hey! Don't talk to him like that, you little prick!," he growled. "I'm in charge of all you maggots, which means I can say whatever the hell I want!," Sergeant Brute snarled back. "Now run ten laps around the field, NOW!"

"F*k you, I'm not doing that sh*t!," Sammy said defiantly. Everyone else gasped, and anxiously waited for what would happen next. Suddenly, Sergeant Brute leaned in until his nose was practically touching Sammy's. They glared into each other's eyes, and even though the drill instructor was much bigger and taller than Sammy, the latter refused to back down.

"This ain't the girl scouts, private," Sergeant Brute whispered in a menacing tone that only Sammy could hear. "This is the army, and the army is no place for little pansies who can't even follow the simplest of orders. You wanna survive in Vietnam? Then you do what I say. Now run ten laps around the field. I'm not gonna repeat myself again…" For a few moments, the two of them glared at each other in silence, while everyone else watched them. The tension in the air was so thick that you could cut through it with a knife. At first, it seemed as though neither of them were going to back down. Finally, it was Sammy who lost the battle, breaking eye contact with the drill instructor and going away to run ten laps around the field, angrily grumbling under his breath. Sergeant Brute watched Sammy as he started to run, then turned his attention back to the rest of the company. "Anyone else have something to say to me?!," he yelled.

"NO, SERGEANT BRUTE!," everyone yelled out in unison, knowing better than to incur his wrath. "That's more like it," Sergeant Brute muttered. "Alright, now everyone get down on the ground and do fifty push ups! If I see anyone taking a break or doing the form improperly, then everyone has to start over! Is that understood?!" "YES, SERGEANT BRUTE!," everyone yelled, before getting down and proceeding to do the push ups. Hutch and Carlson were about to do the same thing, but the drill instructor suddenly stopped them. "Not you two!," he yelled, pointing at them both. "Both of you get to join your friend in running the ten laps! That oughta teach you maggots not to talk back to me next time!" "W-what?!," Carlson squeaked, his face turning pale white. "But I didn't even say or do anything!" "I heard you whispering to him before I came here! Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes!," yelled Sergeant Brute. "Now both of you, get to runnin', or I'll have you both run twenty laps instead! Got it?!" "Yes, Sergeant Brute," Hutch and Carlson sighed, before they went to join Sammy, who was already halfway done with the first lap. Sammy turned to look back at them in surprise, not expecting them to join him.

"What are you guys doing here?," he asked in confusion. "Sergeant Brute wanted us to run the ten laps with you," Carlson said bitterly. "What?!," Sammy growled, glaring at Sergeant Brute, who was busy yelling at the other recruits doing push ups. Though to be frank, he was more infuriated on Hutch's behalf than Carlson's. "That little… I oughta come over there and kick that guy's ass…," he growled. "Ugh, don't you think you've caused enough trouble for all of us?," Carlson groaned, understandably fed up with how his day was going. "Come on, Sammy, calm down," said Hutch, grabbing Sammy's hand as they ran. "Remember what Dr. Fitzgerald taught you. Whenever you feel like hurting someone, just take in deep breaths…"

As much as Sammy really, really, really wanted to teach that punk a lesson, the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Hutch. So he tried to take in deep breaths to calm himself down as the three of them ran together, and eventually, he managed to calm down. His therapist was an old, grouchy man on the best of days, but his advice was really top notch. "Sorry," he murmured after finally calming down. "Didn't mean to drag you into this, Hutch…" "Hey, it's fine," Hutch said with a calm and reassuring smile. "We're the three musketeers, remember? No matter what, we stick together." "To be honest, I'm having second thoughts about being part of this 'musketeers' thing," said Carlson, already growing tired from the running. "Is it too late to drop out or…?" "No you don't!," snapped Sammy, turning to glare at him. "If Hutch wants you to be one of the three musketeers, then from now on, you're one of the three musketeers!" "Alright, geez…," Carlson muttered. "I mean, you don't have to be one if you don't want to," said Hutch, smiling sadly. "But since we're pretty much bunkmates now, it'd be nice if we were all… you know…"

Carlson did not like Sammy, that much was obvious. And he was certain that Sammy did not like him back. But for the entire time he knew him, Hutch was nothing but kind and cheerful towards him, always willing to look on the bright side of things. And because of that, Carlson could not find it within himself to disappoint Hutch any more than Sammy could.

"Well, it beats being all by myself here…," he admitted. Hutch beamed at Carlson's answer, while Sammy nodded in approval, though the ever present scowl was still fixed on his face. Carlson had to wonder if Sammy's face would break in half if he tried to smile…

After they finished running the ten laps, Sammy, Hutch, and Carlson were given no rest to recuperate, much to their dismay, and were immediately forced to join everyone else in their exercise drills. They had to endure various grueling exercise, such as deadlifting weights for as many repetitions as possible, carrying and tossing heavy medicine balls, doing push ups until they couldn't do any more, dragging large sleds loaded with heavy metal plates, doing planks for excruciatingly long periods of time, and - oh, what joy - even more running.

After many hours, the sun was high in the sky, bringing with it a wave of heat so harsh that it could kill any lizards or insects skittering over the sand. Everyone was exhausted, sweaty, and miserable. Sergeant Brute seemed to be the only one who didn't seem tired at all, though even he had to take his jacket off because of the heat, his face, chest, and armpits soaking in sweat. And unfortunately for everyone, their training for the day was far from over…

The first half of training, mainly physical exercising, was over, and the second half of training was about to start. Everyone was ordered to sit down on the hot sand in a giant circle, sweating buckets. Sergeant Brute was standing in the middle, going on another tirade. "Alright, listen up, you maggots!," he boomed. "Training your body is one thing, but now it's time to train your mind! You can't afford to make mistakes in the middle of a war! It's important that each and every one of you learn how to operate, maintain, and fire your own rifle! But we'll leave all that for tomorrow! Today, I'm gonna teach you what to do when you end up losing your rifle! When you're unarmed, the enemy will not show you any mercy! So you must learn how to take down your opponent without any weapons at hand! Welcome to Hand-to-Hand Combat!"

Upon hearing that, everyone suddenly perked up in excitement. Upon joining the military, learning how to fight was what they were most excited to learn about, second to learning how to fire a gun. Finally, it was time for the good part of training! "Now make no mistake! Hand-to-hand combat in real life is nothing like what you see in the movies!," yelled Sergeant Brute. "So don't expect me to teach you any bullsh*t moves like stopping someone's heart with pressure points or catching flies with chopsticks! Instead, I'm gonna teach you how to really fight! You're gonna whine, you're gonna groan, and you're gonna beg to be put out of your misery! But if you end up surviving this, you'll survive anything! But first, who wants to volunteer to fight me?!"

Any whispers of excitement within the crowd instantly grew silent. Did they hear that right? Did he expect any of them to fight… him? The excitement they just had immediately died down, as almost none of them wanted to face off against such a monster of a man…

Keyword being almost. A hand immediately shot up in the air, and it was pretty easy to guess who that hand belonged to. "I'll go!," said Sammy, a vicious grin on his face. He had been wanting to teach that guy a lesson for the whole day, and now was his chance to do so. And the best part was that he didn't have to worry about Hutch's disapproval, since this was part of the training anyway. Sergeant Brute looked in Sammy's direction, and judging by the look on his face, it was almost as though he expected him to be the first one to volunteer.

"Guess there's hope for you after all. Come up here, then! Show everyone what you've got!," said Sergeant Brute. With a confident smile, Sammy stood up and walked towards the drill instructor, while Hutch and Carlson looked on in concern. Even though Hutch knew Sammy the longest and knew that he could definitely handle himself in a fight, he still had doubts of whether or not his best friend could actually take on someone who looked like a silverback.

Sammy, on the other hand, was not worried in the slightest. Sergeant Brute was a much bigger opponent, probably the biggest he had ever faced off against. But Sammy had taken on many people who were much larger than himself, and he always came out on top. There was no reason for him to think that this would be any different. Sammy kept walking until he was about ten feet away from Sergeant Brute, who stood with his arms crossed, looking down at him with a stony expression on his face. "Ready when you are, private," he said in a quieter voice.

Sammy hesitated for a moment, taken aback by how… calm the drill instructor became all of a sudden. If he had even taken the moment to think it through, he would've realized that he was being lured into a trap. Instead, he shrugged off his suspicions and lunged towards the larger man, intent on landing a powerful punch to the face. He already knew how this fight was going to go down - Sergeant Brute on the ground, his face swollen, bloody, and bruised, crying and begging for mercy. That bas*d was going to pay for how he treated Hutch–!

In a flash, Sergeant Brute ducked underneath Sammy's punch with a type of speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man of his size. Then, he headbutted Sammy in the chest, knocking him back and causing him to fall onto the ground. Sammy was dazed, confused, and had a sharp and intense pain in his chest region. He barely even processed what happened. "Is that all you got, you maggot?!," Sergeant Brute yelled. "Get up! You ain't done yet!"

Growling under his breath, Sammy slowly got back up, though he couldn't help but wince from the pain in his chest. Once again, Sergeant Brute had both his arms crossed, and he was clearly not taking Sammy seriously at all. That only infuriated the latter, who lunged towards him once more with his fist reared back. This time, he thought to himself, THIS time, my punch is going to land… But that turned out not to be the case. This time, Sergeant Brute moved his head slightly to the left to avoid the blow, then grabbed Sammy's arm and tossed him over his shoulder like a ragdoll. Sammy was slammed to the ground, then received a punch to the face, breaking his nose. Just like last time, he could barely process what just happened.

"You're starting to make me angry, private!," growled Sergeant Brute, taking a step back. "Don't tell me that's all you have left in the tank! Guess you were all bark and no bite!" Sammy got up much quicker this time, but stumbled at the last second, overcome by vertigo. His nose was now crooked, and blood was pouring from his nostrils. "Stand still, you… AAARRGH!," he roared, charging towards the drill instructor with all caution thrown out the window.

And that was how the rest of the fight went, though calling it a "fight" would've been a bit too generous. Every time Sammy tried to land a blow, Sergeant Brute would always manage to dodge, block, or counter it every time. Then, Sammy would be knocked to the ground, usually with an additional injury or two, but would always get back up, and the cycle continued. But as the fight went on, it became apparent as to who was going to win in the end. Despite Sammy's tenacity and resolve, he was quickly growing more and more tired, while Sergeant Brute put in the bare minimal effort in fending him off, not even breaking a sweat the entire time.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Sammy was back on the ground again, only this time, he didn't have the energy to get back up. His face was a mess, his chest and stomach felt like they were pounded by a large hammer, and he was so out of breath that he could only take in small, squeaky gasps of air. Meanwhile, Sergeant Brute looked exactly the same as he was before the fight, with not a scratch on him. "Get back in line, private," he said, casually checking his nails. "You've clearly got a lot to learn." Sammy slowly got back up, gave the drill instructor one last hateful glare, then slunk off with his head hung, grumbling under his breath. Some of the other boys snickered at him, a bit ironic considering they wouldn't have fared any better.

When Sammy sat down between Hutch and Carlson, the former stared at him in worry and concern. "Are you okay, Sammy?," he asked, reaching out to touch Sammy's arm. Sammy roughly pulled his arm away and turned away with a huff. "I'm fine!," he snapped.

Of course, Sammy was not fine. It wasn't simply because he got his butt kicked for the first time ever. It was really his pride that was wounded. Not only did he lose against Sergeant Brute, but he was humiliated in the process, and in front of all those people! Not even watching some of the others get ragdolled by the drill instructor was enough to cheer him up.

Finally, long after the sun set below the horizon, training was over. By then, everyone was so tired and miserable that they walked back into the building with hunched shoulders and drooping arms, acting more like zombies. They ravenously ate dinner in the mess hall, which tasted like it was made from the sand outside, before going back to their respective rooms for the night, eager to sleep the rest of the day away. In their own barracks, Carlson was already fast asleep, exhausted from today's training. Hutch was about to go to sleep as well, but then, he heard loud grunting from below. He looked down from his bed in the upper bunks and saw Sammy on the floor, doing push ups. "Sammy?," he asked tiredly. "What are you doing right now? You should be getting as much rest as possible before tomorrow's training."

"What does it look like I'm doing?," asked Sammy, continuing to do push ups. "I'm trying to get stronger. I'm not gonna let that arrogant prick get the better of me! One way or another, I'm going to kick that guy's ass!" He stopped and quickly switched to doing sit ups.

While Hutch was glad that Sammy was putting in the work to improve, it was overridden by his worry of Sammy potentially hurting himself in the process. "Sammy, there's nothing for you to prove," he said gently. "That was only our first day of training, so of course you wouldn't do so well against a veteran. Look, why don't you just calm down and get some sle–"

"Shut up!," snapped Sammy as he stopped and glared up at Hutch. "You're not the one who just got humiliated in front of hundreds of people, so just shut the hell up!" He immediately regretted it, however, when he saw the wounded expression on Hutch's face. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'm… I just… I'm sorry." Even after years of therapy, and years of being friends with the kindest people he had ever known, his anger issues were still a problem. "Look, it's… personal, okay? I don't expect you to understand. It's just something that I have to do…"

"No, I get it," Hutch assured him, smiling to show that there were no hard feelings. "Do what you think is best. I trust you." Sammy nodded a silent thanks, then went back to doing sit ups like there was no tomorrow. Nobody knew it yet, but that marked the beginning of Sammy's arc into becoming one of the most skilled and feared military soldiers in history…

When the next day came around and everyone was abruptly woken up the same way as last time - an angry drill instructor and a loudspeaker - it was time for firearms training. Everyone was given an M16 rifle, and after showing them all the small parts and mechanisms that the rifle consisted of, Sergeant Brute instructed them to take apart and reassemble them over and over again, until it became practically ingrained in their muscle memory. But on that day, Sammy was different from how he was yesterday. Though he stayed up late last night doing various physical exercises, he didn't seem nearly as tired as everyone else. In fact, he was laser focused, never saying a single bad word about the drill sergeant behind his back, and absorbed every word that man said like a human sponge. Then, when it was time to take apart and reassemble their rifles, Sammy surprised everyone by being the first one in the group to complete the task.

Initially, Sergeant Brute believed it was a fluke, and demanded that Sammy do it all over again, right in front of him. Without any argument, Sammy did exactly that, only he completed it even faster the second time around. Then, the drill instructor surprised everyone by giving him a nod of approval, probably the first time he had ever given anyone something that even remotely resembled a compliment. And for the rest of the day, Sammy followed orders to the letter, never speaking out or rebelling in any way. From an outside perspective, it would seem as though he finally learned the value of following the orders of his superiors. But that was not the case at all. For Sammy, only one thing mattered: finally getting his revenge on Sergeant Brute.

After yesterday's fight, Sammy was pretty certain that he and the drill sergeant were equal when it came to physical strength. But what good was strength when you had no idea how to apply it properly? Sergeant Brute wasn't just a very large and powerful man. He was a war veteran, someone who had literally been through hell and back, someone who knew how to take his enemies down in the most brutal and efficient way possible. He was able to conserve nearly all of his stamina, while Sammy flailed around like a madman, wasting his.

If Sammy wanted to have any chance of beating Sergeant Brute in a rematch, he had to learn how to properly fight. He had to grow even stronger. He had to be the best…

As time at the base went on, Sammy's skill and knowledge in combat grew at such an astronomical rate that his friends, the other soldiers-in-training, and even Sergeant Brute and his superiors were blown away. He took his rifle with him and spent countless nights taking it apart and reassembling it, until he knew the name of every single piece, as well as where they went. He continued doing intense physical exercises to keep himself in top shape, until his limbs felt like lead in the mornings. Not only that, but he paid special attention to Sergeant Brute when he was teaching everyone the basics of hand-to-hand combat. After carefully watching the drill instructor's numerous demonstrations and seeing how many different ways he could've disabled him permanently, Sammy was no longer surprised that he had been beaten so easily.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, depending on how you view it, Sergeant Brute really knew his stuff when it came to fighting. He taught them how to pin their opponents to the ground using wrestling, and how to use their own weight against them using judo techniques. He taught them how to throw devastating punches from boxing, and how to use their fists, elbows, knees, and legs to strike their opponents relentlessly with Muay Thai. He taught them how to properly use Brazilian jiu-jitsu and sambo if the fight goes to the ground. He even taught them how to wield various melee weapons, ranging from knives and poles to medieval swords of all things. "Most people think that stuff is useless," Sergeant Brute once lectured. "After all, why the hell would you need to learn how to use a sword when you already have guns? But remember, this is war, and war is unpredictable! You never know when these skills could save your life."

Useful or pretentious, it didn't matter to Sammy. He took in all of it, and every night, when everyone else in the base was fast asleep, he would still be up, practicing the moves he had learned on a dummy that he made from his own pillow and blankets. He practiced over and over again, until all of the techniques felt like second nature to him, then practiced some more. Fortunately, Hutch and Carlson were never bothered by him practicing all night, though that was mostly due to them being so tired from training that it would take nothing less than a bomb - or a loudspeaker - to wake them up. Even when Sergeant Brute had nothing left to teach them about hand-to-hand combat, Sammy continued to practice, never stopping, never satisfied.

Finally, one day, Sammy decided to put his secret training to the test. They were once again sitting around in a circle, with Sergeant Brute in the middle, demanding for one of them to volunteer to fight him. So far, not a single one of them were able to come close to defeating him, and by that point, they were too discouraged to even consider it. Of course, they had plenty of practice in using the techniques they learned on each other, but against him? They might as well volunteer to fight against a literal force of nature. "So none of you are going to step up?!," Sergeant Brute boomed. "I'm disappointed in all you maggots! Even after everything I've taught you, not a single one of you has the guts to fight me?! You're all a f*ing disgrace!"

Then, one hand shot straight up in the air. Everyone else looked and saw Sammy, once again raising his hand in the air, only this time, instead of having an overconfident look, his face had a determined expression, his mouth set in a thin line, and his eyes had a fire behind them that was missing from last time. "Great, here we go again," murmured Carlson, rolling his eyes. "Well, well, if it isn't the little maggot who made a fool of himself in front of all of these people so long ago," Sergeant Brute sneered. "I heard you've been training your ass off since the last time we fought, so let's see if any of that training managed to stick. Now come up here!"

As Sammy stood up, Hutch smiled up at him and gave an encouraging thumbs up. "Do your best," he mouthed silently. Sammy gave him a quick smile and nodded, then walked up to the drill instructor until they were ten feet apart, just like last time. Everyone else watched and held their breath, not knowing what to expect. They knew about all the training that Sammy had been doing in "secret" - news can spread like wildfire in such a small place - so they knew that Sammy was now a completely different beast from last time. But then again, Sergeant Brute was… well, Sergeant Brute. So in their minds, this fight could now go either way.

At first, it was almost like watching a western stand-off, with the two combatants glaring at each other, neither of them making the first move. They circled around each other like wild animals, analyzing each other's body language, trying to spot any weaknesses that they could exploit. And then, out of nowhere, they both lunged at each other… and that was when all hell broke loose. They crashed into each other and immediately began grappling, and even though Sergeant Brute was much heavier than Sammy, the latter was still putting up a fight.

They grabbed each other's clothing and threw each other around, both of them trying to gain the upper hand. Sergeant Brute tried punching Sammy in the stomach, but Sammy threw him around some more, then retaliated with a knee strike to the groin. But even that was not enough to stop Sergeant Brute, who ducked down, wrapped his arms around Sammy's waist, and tossed him over his head, effectively suplexing him to the ground. Then, he twisted around and grabbed Sammy in a headlock, intent on putting him in a chokehold. Sammy struggled to escape, but just didn't have enough leverage. For a moment, it seemed as though Sergeant Brute was going to be the winner yet again… until Sammy did the unexpected…

He opened his mouth… and bit on his opponent's hand as hard as he could.

To his credit, Sergeant Brute was able to continue holding onto Sammy, even as the bones in his hand cracked under the pressure and blood began pooling from the wound. But only a few seconds later, he couldn't handle the pain anymore, and quickly wrenched his hand out of Sammy's mouth, screaming in pain. While doing so, his grip on Sammy loosened, which allowed the latter to twist out from under the larger man and quickly turn the tables, climbing onto the drill instructor's back and putting him in a chokehold using both of his arms, while also crossing his legs around the sergeant's waist to prevent him from getting back up.

Finally, as Sergeant Brute struggled to escape Sammy's grip, his movements slowing from lack of oxygen, he did something that he had never done before in his entire career as a drill instructor. He raised his hand… and tapped Sammy's arm as a show of surrender.

Sammy let go of Sergeant Brute, and both of them laid beside each other on the hot sand, gasping for breath. Then, they heard what sounded like… clapping? The clapping grew louder and louder, eventually giving way to cheerful applause. Sammy slowly stood up, groaning in pain, and stared at a sight that he never thought he'd see. Everyone who had been watching the fight was now standing up and applauding enthusiastically, cheering and whistling.

In the crowd, Sammy could make out Hutch and Carlson, who were cheering the loudest out of all of them. Yes, even Carlson. It made Sammy's chest almost burst with pride, something he had not felt in a very long time, and a blush formed on his face. He couldn't resist smiling and giving a dramatic bow to the audience, which made them clap and cheer even louder.

However, when Sergeant Brute got up as well, their cheers quickly died down. They all expected him to be furious towards Sammy, but the cold expression on his face was completely blank, giving no indication as to what he was feeling. The tension returned as Sergeant Brute walked up to Sammy and loomed over him menacingly, clutching his wounded hand.

"...Well, then," the drill instructor said with a smile. "Guess all that training really did pay off for you, did it?" Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief, glad that he wasn't too upset from his loss, as that would've meant harsher training for them. But immediately afterwards, his old personality returned. "NOW RUN THIRTY LAPS AROUND THE FIELD! NOW!"

"What?!," Sammy cried out in outrage. "That's not fair! I beat you!" "Yeah, and bit my hand in the process!," yelled Sergeant Brute, holding up his hand for everyone to see. It was already swollen, and the teeth marks were very visible, like red crescent moons embedded into his skin. It was clearly going to get infected if he didn't treat it soon. "Hey, you're the one who taught us that anything goes in a fight!," Sammy shot back angrily. "You told us to do whatever the hell it takes to win, including eye gouging, groin kicking, and, oh yeah, biting!"

"You want me to make it forty laps?!," growled Sergeant Brute, glaring him in the eye. All the pride that Sammy felt just now had been replaced with anger, and he wanted nothing more than to punch that hypocrite in the face for spoiling his hard-earned victory. But he wasn't too keen on getting into another fight with this guy, so he bit his lip angrily, hung his head, and went to run the thirty laps, grumbling to himself. "AND AS FOR THE REST OF YOU!," Sergeant Brute yelled, turning to face the other recruits. "I hope you were all watching very closely, because you could all take a page from his book! Now get down and do a hundred push ups! No resting, and no breaks! NOW!" Everyone immediately did as they were told and started doing the push ups. Nobody noticed their drill instructor looking to where Sammy was running, nor did they see the fond smile that grew on his face. "Heh. Not bad, private," he said. "Not bad at all…"

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"Honestly, I have so many stories about our drill sergeant that I could go on and on about him," said Sammy, smiling fondly at the memories. "He was definitely not a nice person by any means, but he did care about us in his own, strange way. Back then, we thought he was a sadist who just wanted to torture a bunch of kids, but it wasn't until much later that I realized why he was so hard on us. He literally put us through heck and back because he knew how bad war is, and he wanted to prepare us the best way he knew how. And I'll never forget it…"

"Heh. Kinda reminds me of my old man, when you really think about it," Stan murmured to himself, chuckling fondly. His brow furrowed, however, when the memories resurfaced. Bad memories that the conman would rather forget. Memories that involved himself as a teenager, out in the dead of night with a duffel bag, begging for his father to let him back in…

He shook his head to clear those memories away. Fortunately, nobody else noticed the momentary trance he was in. "Whoa, Sammy, that's insane! I didn't know you could fight!," said Wendy, staring at him in awe and bewilderment. "Oh, he can definitely fight," said Dipper. "There was that one time when he defeated Rumble McSkirmish. You know, the video game character. I accidentally brought him to life a while ago, long story," he said when he saw the confused look on Wendy's face. "And there was that time when he fought off those creepy wax guys!," Mabel said enthusiastically. "Guys, come on…," Sammy mumbled, his face turning bright red from all the unneeded praise he was suddenly receiving. "It wasn't all that impressive…"

"Video games? Wax guys? Sheesh, you kids really do have overactive imaginations," said Stan, scratching his head in confusion. "So what happened after that, dude?," Soos asked Sammy, eager to hear what was next. "Well, months and months of training at a military base is… not as exciting as it sounds," said Sammy. "I've only been telling you guys about the more eventful parts. Every other day was just waking up, training, eating, going to sleep, then wash, rinse, and repeat. It was all repetitive, so I'll skip ahead to the day before we were scheduled to be shipped off to… Vietnam. It was actually my birthday that day, so Hutch decided to host a little party for me that night. And he gave me a gift that I still cherish to this day…"

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"Happy birthday to you~! Happy birthday to you~! Happy birthday, dear Sammy~! Happy birthday to yooouuu~!" Sammy couldn't help but feel embarrassed at that moment, especially with Hutch and Carlson singing the happy birthday song to him late at night, while he himself was wearing a colorful birthday cone on top of his head. On top of that, Hutch was bringing a large chocolate cake and settling it down in front of him, a cake that he claimed to have made with his own hands. Considering that they were in the middle of nowhere, Sammy had no idea how Hutch even got the ingredients to bake such a cake, but he had learned to stop questioning him a long time ago. Hutch was Hutch, and that was the only answer he needed.

The three of them were alone in their barracks, and not only was this a very special day because they were going to be shipped off to Vietnam tomorrow, but because, of course, it was Sammy's birthday. Neither Hutch nor Carlson knew when his birthday was initially, but just last week, Hutch asked Sammy about it out of curiosity, and was shocked to learn that his birthday was only a week away. When Sammy also admitted that he never got to celebrate any of his birthdays - and anyone who knew about his childhood would immediately understand why - it ignited an indignant fire in Hutch, who was determined to not only give Sammy his first birthday celebration ever, but to make it the best celebration that one could ever hope for.

Sammy insisted that he didn't want any birthday celebration, that it wasn't a big deal or anything to worry about. But of course, once Hutch had his mind set on something, there was no force in the world that could dissuade him. He immediately got Carlson onboard as well. As the three friends hung out together, Sammy and Carlson actually warmed up to each other, with both finally accepting that they were, in fact, the Three Musketeers. So both Hutch and Carlson worked hard together to plan the best birthday party in the history of birthday parties.

That was easier said than done, however, especially with the limited amount of time they had before Sammy's birthday rolled around. So in the end, all they had was a chocolate cake, a party hat made from paper and cardboard, and a few candles and matches. Oh, and a couple of presents that they planned on giving to Sammy afterwards. Not a bad attempt at all.

Now here they were, in the dark, sitting around Hutch's chocolate cake, with only the lit candles to light up the room. "Alright~!," Hutch cheered, pumping his fists in the air after singing the birthday song. "Come on, guys, let's dig in!" "Man, I'm excited, this cake looks good!," said Carlson, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Then, he realized something. "Hold on…," he said, "...how are we gonna cut the cake without a knife? And how are we gonna eat without some plates and utensils?" Hutch's eyes went wide. "...Aw, man! I knew I forgot something!," he groaned, blowing a raspberry. "For shame, Hutch," Sammy said teasingly. "You expect me to eat this delicious chocolate cake using my filthy bare hands? Me, the birthday boy?"

"Oh, ha, ha," Hutch replied sarcastically. "Okay, that was a mistake on my part. Sorry about that. You know what, let's just skip the cake part and go straight to the presents!" He took his present out from behind his back, while Carlson took out his present. Both were rectangular boxes wrapped in colorful, shiny wrapping paper, complete with large red ribbons.

"Presents?," asked Sammy, perking up in surprise. "Yep!," said Hutch. "Me and Carlson went out of our way to get you the best presents that anyone could ever ask for! What, were you only expecting the cake?" "Uh… Yeah, honestly," said Sammy, shrugging. "Here, you can open mine first," said Carlson, pushing his present forward. Sammy took the present and inspected it closely, then began shaking it. "I-I-I wouldn't do that!," Carlson said quickly. "It's fragile."

Now more curious than ever, Sammy began to unwrap Carlson's present, but what he found inside of it was not what he really expected at all. It was… a pair of glasses. That was it. They were rather large, though, with thick, round lenses and a black ivory frame. He took out the glasses and held it up with a questioning look on his face. Judging by the look on Hutch's face, he seemed to be just as confused as Sammy. Sammy then stared at Carlson. "Explain," he said bluntly. Carlson winced and scratched the back of his head. "Okay, don't get all upset, but I had this… hunch," he admitted. "It took me a while to realize it, but I couldn't help but notice that you were always… squinting. Like you couldn't see too clearly. Hence the glasses."

Suddenly, Hutch scooted forward until his face was about an inch away from Sammy's, and he stared hard at Sammy's eyes. Sammy didn't say a word, already used to most of Hutch's antics. "Hmmm… Whoa! You were right, Carlson. Sammy really does squint a little!"

"Okay, first off, there's a thing called personal space," Sammy snarked, pushing Hutch away from him. "And secondly… Do I really squint?" "Well, it's not obvious, if that's what you mean," said Carlson. "It took me a whole month just to notice. But yeah, you do squint. Just a tiny bit. I assumed it was because of poor eyesight, hence the new glasses. I also wanted to ask you about it directly, but… well, that would've spoiled the surprise." "Whoa, I didn't even notice that until you pointed it out, and I've known the guy for years!," said Hutch. "You have a really good eye, Carlson." "Okay," Sammy sighed, "I don't want to sound ungrateful, and I'm glad that you cared enough to buy me… this." He held up the glasses using two of his fingers. "But you shouldn't have wasted your money, Carlson. My vision's fine. I don't need glasses."

"Oh, really? Then why are you always squinting?," asked Carlson, crossing his arms and looking at Sammy with a raised eyebrow. "People don't squint when they have 20/20 vision, you know." Sammy rolled his eyes in irritation. "Okay, so my vision isn't really perfect. But still, I can see totally fine without any glasses," he insisted. "Then why don't you just try them on?," asked Hutch. "Yeah. Couldn't hurt," said Carlson. Sammy groaned, knowing that those two would not take no for an answer. To be honest, he wasn't entirely averse to wearing glasses. He just didn't want to look like a nerd… Okay, that sounded a lot dumber in my head, geez…

"Okay, fine, I'll wear it…," he sighed, making it sound like more of a big deal than it really was. He slowly put the glasses on and… "Whoa!," he couldn't help but cry out, his eyes turning wide with wonder. Both Hutch and Carlson slightly jumped, not expecting that reaction. "What is it, Sammy? What do you see?," Hutch asked curiously. After putting the glasses on, everything from Sammy's point of view appeared so much… clearer than before. The difference in vision was incredibly jarring. He could suddenly make out numerous details around him, details that he had failed to notice before. Did Hutch always have that mole on his chin? Was Carlson's left ear always bigger than his right one? Everything was now so… crisp and crystal clear.

"...I'll admit it… I did need these glasses," said Sammy. "Thanks, Carlson." Carlson had a smug smile on his face as he leaned back with his arms crossed, nodding his head. "Okay, now open mine!," cried Hutch, pushing his present forward in excitement. Sammy wasted no time in opening Hutch's present next. He expected to get something that openly complimented Hutch's personality, something small and cute, like a pink teddy bear or a marble with googly eyes. What he got instead was much more… plain. A thick blue wool sweater with long sleeves.

Selfishly, Sammy was hoping for something that was a bit… more. "Thanks, Hutch," he said anyway, trying to conceal any disappointment he was feeling. "I'm glad you like it!," Hutch said cheerfully. "It took me forever to knit it!" Sammy perked up in surprise. "Wait a minute. You made this?," he asked, holding the sweater up. "Where did you even get the wool and knitting needles for this?," asked Carlson. "Oh, I have my ways," Hutch said vaguely.

Sammy looked at the sweater again, this time in a new light. Hutch didn't just buy a sweater for him as a birthday present. Just like with the cake, he made it for him. There was just something about a gift being made for someone that gave it more… importance than if it were storebrought. At that moment, he didn't really know what to say. "Go on! Try it on!," Hutch said excitedly. Sammy silently nodded and put the sweater on over his head, and to his surprise, it fit almost perfectly. He wouldn't be surprised if Hutch somehow got his measurements without him knowing. "I love it," he said in the most honest and genuine tone that he ever spoke.

"Awww, you look so adorable now!," Hutch suddenly squeed. "W-what?!," cried Sammy, shocked by what he just heard. "I-is this some f*ing joke?!" "I actually have to agree with Hutch here," said Carlson, nodding in agreement. "There's something about that glasses and sweater combination that makes you look… irresistibly huggable all of a sudden." To say that Sammy was absolutely bewildered by what he was hearing was a gross understatement.

"Here, take a look at yourself!," said Hutch, handing Sammy a handheld mirror. Without even bothering to question where he got it from, Sammy took the mirror and stared at his own reflection. What he saw made him visibly recoil. "I look like a f*ing dork!," he said.

His new glasses accentuated his eyes, making them appear bigger and brighter than they actually were. The blue in his irises were magnified, and so were his pupils, making it look like he had the eyes of a cartoon character. Then there was the sweater, which not only hid his muscles, but also gave his body a much "rounder" and "softer" appearance. That wasn't even mentioning the childish party hat that he was still wearing on his head. To Sammy, such a sight was nothing short of an abomination. To Hutch and Carlson, it was the most adorable thing they had ever seen in their lives. "I wanna hug you so badly right now!," Hutch squealed.

"Yeah? Well, sorry to disappoint you both, but if you think I'm gonna stay dressed like this, then–!" Sammy was about to take the glasses off, but then, Hutch suddenly stopped him. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!," he said quickly, a starry look in his eyes. "I just got an amazing idea…" He quickly went around behind Sammy's back, then grabbed locks of Sammy's hair in his hands. "Hey!," snapped Sammy, squirming around. "Let go of my hair, you–!"

"Shhh, just trust me. Okay?," Hutch asked gently. Sammy glared back at Hutch for a moment, then sighed and relaxed. With quick and deft hands, Hutch tied Sammy's hair into a bun. Fortunately, the hair was just long enough to do the job. "There! Now you look even cuter than you were before!" Sammy took another look at the mirror, and his jaw dropped at what he saw. "...You've got to be sh*ing me…," he groaned. Now with his semi-long hair tied into a bun, combined with the glasses and the sweater, he didn't just look cute anymore…

…He looked like a girl. "This is ridiculous," Sammy muttered. He glanced at Carlson, hoping that he would also see how absurd this whole thing was. To his shock and horror, he saw Carlson looking away nervously… and he was blushing. "No! F*k this!," he cried as he quickly went to work untying his hair, then taking off the glasses and the sweater. "Guys, thanks for the presents and the cake and whatever, but this is getting too f*ing weird!" "Awwwww…," Hutch sighed in disappointment. "Come on, can't you keep it on just a little bit longer…?"

Fortunately, the weirdness was put to an end, and afterwards, it was cake eating time. Since they didn't have knives, forks, plates, or even napkins, they decided to simply dig in with their bare hands and eat away. Why bother washing your hands when you could just lick away the frosting, right? Afterwards, everyone retired to their beds and tried to go to sleep, knowing that they would have to wake up even earlier than usual the next morning. But for some reason, none of them could go to sleep. Part of the reason was because they just ate a chocolate cake together, and were still hyped up on sugar. The other part was pretty easy to guess.

"...Guys… I'm scared," Carlson whispered, his voice shaking. "There's nothing to be scared about, Carlson. Now go to sleep," Sammy muttered, trying to hide the sense of dread that he was also feeling at the moment. "I can't go to sleep, Sammy, I'm f*ing scared!," hissed Carlson. Much to the alarm of the others, he started crying. "I… I'm scared of what'll happen to us over in Vietnam… I'm scared of what awaits us there… I've heard stories, you know… stories of people who died in the war… never came back… completely forgotten… I don't want to end up like that, guys…" "Damn it, Carlson!," snapped Sammy, glaring over at him. "Will you shut up already? Do you think I want to hear this sh*t the day before we go there? Jesus!"

"S-sorry," Carlson whimpered, pulling his head under the covers. "Sammy!," scolded Hutch, glaring at Sammy with such intensity. "Why the heck would you say that to him?! And after the birthday party we threw for you?! You should know better!" Sammy winced, not just from Hutch's glare, but because he did actually regret what he said to Carlson.

As said before, his temper and anger issues never really went away.

With a heavy sigh, he got up from his bed, walked over to Carlson's, and sat down beside him. "Hey, Carlson," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I guess… I was under a lot of pressure too." Slowly, Carlson poked his head out of the sheets and looked up at Sammy like a frightened child. "I'm scared," he repeated, trembling.

"...So am I," Sammy admitted. "What you said just now freaked the hell out of me… but that doesn't make it any less true." "So how do you deal with it?," asked Carlson. "If you know that you might never come back… t-then how do you…?" Sammy stared up at the ceiling and thought long and hard about it. "Do you remember when we told you about Isabelle?," he asked, looking back down at Carlson. "Yeah," said Carlson. "She's your girlfriend, right?"

Sammy nodded. "Well, I made a promise to her before I left," he said. "I promised that after the war, we would see each other again. And I intend on keeping that promise, no matter what. I have someone waiting for me back home, and I know that if I ever want to see her again, I will do whatever it takes to survive that damn war! Whatever it takes!" Without even knowing it, his whisper rose to a shout. "And if you have people waiting for you back home, then that's all you need to keep on going! Survive the war so you can see them again! Do it for them! Forget all the stories you heard about Vietnam! Forget about all your fears! If you let them control you, then you're already dead!" At that point, Sammy finally realized that he was ranting a bit, so he quickly toned it down. "In the end, seeing Isabelle is all that matters to me. Yes, I admit it, I am f*ing terrified right now. But as long as I have someone to live for, I know that I will never give up, no matter what happens. And you? Can you say the same thing about yourself?"

"...I don't want to die," Carlson whispered. "But I don't have much to live for either…"

Silence. There was nothing but complete and total silence afterwards. Sammy could only stare at Carlson in shock, while Carlson simply rolled over in his bed, facing away. Sammy tried to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. What could he even say?

"Alright, that's it! Enough is enough!," shouted Hutch, suddenly bolting up from his bed. "Come on, Carlson, up, up, up! There's still one thing left for us to do before the day's over! Now get up, lazybones!" Sammy and Carlson exchanged confused looks, but did as they were told. They got up from the bed and watched as Hutch rummaged around under his pillow, looking for something. He soon found what he was looking for - an old, dusty handheld camera.

"You got a camera too?!," cried Carlson. "Seriously, where do you keep getting all this stuff? It's like you just… conjure them out of thin air!" "Don't question it," Sammy muttered. "I've tried. It's not good for your mental health." "Come on, guys! Since this is our last night on the soil of the U.S., let's take a photo so we can cherish this memory!," said Hutch. "Enough of all of this doom and gloom! Like I said before, just think of it as a great adventure!" He pressed a button on the camera, then set it against the wall and ran to join Sammy and Carlson.

"Hurry, we've only got five seconds. Everyone smile, and say, 'The Three Musketeers!'" Although this came rather out of left field, taking a group photo together was far more preferable to worrying about the war, so Sammy and Carlson complied. "The Three Musketeers!," they all cried out in unison with wide smiles on their faces. The three of them stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. Then, the camera flashed white…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"...and that was what happened during our last night at the military base," said Sammy as he held out the black and white photo of himself, Hutch, and Carlson smiling at the camera. "The next morning, we were all put into separate helicopters and flown to Vietnam…"

Everyone else in the room remained silent as they slowly digested what they all heard. "Huh. So that explains why you always wear that sweater, dude," said Soos. "It's the same one that Hutch gave you, right?" Sammy nodded. "Yep. And the glasses I'm wearing right now are the same pair that Carlson gave me," he said, briefly taking them off for emphasis. "Even after all these years, I never got rid of them." "Was Carlson okay?," Mabel asked worriedly. "It didn't sound like he was… happy with his life…" "No, he wasn't," Sammy sighed sadly. "It turned out that his home life was a lot more… complicated than Hutch and I initially thought. But I'm pretty sure he's doing better nowadays." "Wait, you mean you and Carlson still keep in touch?," asked Dipper. "...Sometimes, yeah," said Sammy. "We're not as close as we used to be…"

"What about Hutch? Do you still keep in touch with him?," asked Wendy. Suddenly, the mood in the room changed completely. Sammy hung his head, unable to meet anyone's eyes. The photo dropped from his shaking hands. His whole body trembled violently.

"S… Sammy?," Wendy asked worriedly, afraid that she touched a nerve. "Kid?," asked Stan, just as worried. For a moment, Sammy made no response, trembling from head to toe as he stared at the floor. Then, to everyone's alarm, he suddenly covered his face with his hands and began bawling loudly. "Hutch!," he sobbed. "Hutch! Oh god, I'm so sorry! Làm ơn hãy tha thứ cho tớ! Hãy tha thứ cho tớ đi mà!" "SAMMY!," everyone else cried out in alarm, gathering around him worriedly. "What's wrong?! Are you okay, dude?!," asked Soos.

Sammy shook his head. "I'm sorry, guys," he whimpered, tears falling from his face. "I'm so sorry. I-I-I…" He began sobbing again, so choked up by his own tears that he couldn't even form words anymore. Thinking quickly, Soos gently helped Sammy to his feet. "It's okay, dude. I've got you," the handyman said in a comforting voice. "Hey, I'm pretty sure we've got some ice cream in the freezer. You want some ice cream?" Sammy, still crying, nodded his head.

Soos gently took Sammy by the shoulders and moved into the kitchen with him, while Wendy followed after them, apologizing profusely. Dipper and Mabel were scared stiff, as they had never seen Sammy burst out crying like that. Stan wanted to go after them, but much to his frustration, his stupid broken leg couldn't allow him to even get up from his chair.

For what felt like hours, Stan and the twins stayed in the living room while listening to Sammy crying in the kitchen, Soos trying to comfort him, and Wendy still apologizing for making him cry to begin with. Finally, the three of them went back into the living room. Sammy was now carrying a big bucket of strawberry ice cream, shoveling big spoonfuls into his mouth. His eyes were red from crying, and his breath hitched every now and then. Wendy was rubbing her arm and looking away guiltily. Soos tried to help Sammy back into his chair, but the latter shook his head and gave him a sad smile. He sat down, resting the ice cream bucket in his lap.

"Sorry you all had to see that," he croaked, his throat still raw from crying. "I hope none of you mind if I keep the ice cream with me. It's one of my f-f-favorite comfort foods."

"You don't have to keep going if you don't want to, kid," Stan said in a serious voice, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Y-yeah. We can always continue this tomorrow," said Dipper. But Sammy shook his head. "I-I want to c-continue now," he said. "I feel like if I stop now… I'll n-never be able to get through the rest of it…" He looked at Wendy. "And Wendy… I'm sorry if I made you feel like you had to stay for this… Your family's p-probably worried sick…"

"It's… It's fine," said Wendy. "I gave my dad a quick phone call earlier. He knows I'll be coming home late. Besides, I'm the one who should be apologizing! I didn't mean to… I mean, I had no idea that–" "You didn't," Sammy said firmly. "So there's nothing to apologize for."

"But… yeah," Sammy sighed heavily. "By now, you guys probably all know why I broke down like that. Hutch… He…" He stopped to sniff and wipe his face and eyes again.

"...He didn't make it. Out of everyone… Carlson and I were the only survivors…"