A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!

BOOK ONE - PART ONE - CHAPTER THREE

Thunder crashed and lightning flashed overhead as warm rain poured down, flooding the streets. It was just after 11 pm, and Sam had finally managed to track down Cat's house. Unsurprisingly, she lived in the more affluent part of LA, in a large mansion surrounded by a tall metal gate. From the seat of her motorcycle, Sam could see the lights on inside. Her stomach did another flip. After everything she'd been through, she still wasn't sure she'd ever been more scared in her life. But there was no going back now. Sam pulled up to the speaker outside the gate and pressed the button. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she knew this was right, somehow. She waited for nearly a full minute before a man's voice finally came through.

"Sorry, Catarina doesn't accept visitors after 9pm," the man told her. "Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

"Uh, can you tell her it's important?" Sam tried.

"One moment." There was silence for several seconds, and the man eventually returned. "She's not available tonight. You're welcome to come back tomorrow."

Sam sighed heavily. She was desperate. "Tell her it's Sam."

"Um…"

"Seriously, man. Tell her. If she still doesn't want to see me, I'll go away."

"Sam who?"

"Just tell her!"

"Alright, alright…" The man was gone for even longer this time. When he returned, his voice sounded serious. "Come on in."

The gates swung open in front of her. Sam rode her motorcycle through and up to the house's driveway. There, she parked, removed her helmet, and marched up to the big double doors before she could think herself out of it. She felt like throwing up, but she lifted her fist and tapped the door with her knuckles. Then she held her breath and waited.

Exactly ten seconds later, the door swung open. Cat stood in the large doorway, shoeless, in her pink, faux fur-lined pajamas, looking at her disbelievingly. "Sam?" she asked, unable to accept she was actually there.

Sam was smiling widely, but she had a lump in her throat. "Hey, kid."

Cat choked out a sob. "Sam!" She rushed outside and threw her arms around the back of her neck. In an instant, they were both crying, but the rain hid their tears. For what could've been hours, the two of them stood there together, shivering and clinging to each other.

Cat eventually pulled back just enough so that she could look into Sam's eyes. "Is it really you?"

Sam laughed, blinking quickly. "It's me. I… I heard your song."

Cat was staring intensely at her mouth, which made Sam a little nervous.

She began, "So, um, Cat, I—" and was cut off unexpectedly by Cat's lips against her own. They were warm and soft and tasted like strawberry, just like Sam always imagined. Once her brain processed what was happening, she closed her eyes and pulled her in, greedily sealing off the kiss.

The two of them grew increasingly frantic as the seconds passed by, and after only a couple of minutes, they were grabbing at each other desperately right on the doorstep. Without warning, Cat jumped into Sam's arms, locking her legs around her hips. Sam's hands settled on Cat's butt, and they continued kissing heatedly, holding each other like their lives depended on it.

Without waiting for an invitation, Sam started walking forward, stepping inside the house, stumbling over the doorstep but never breaking her lips away from Cat's. Cat was holding onto her injured shoulder, which hurt a little, but she didn't care.

"Good Ghandi!" an older man exclaimed as he walked in to find them that way.

"Sikowitz!" Cat yelped, catching herself as Sam dropped her out of surprise.

Sam was curious why there was an older man dressed like a hippie inside Cat's house, but she wasn't particularly surprised.

"Sam, this is my old high school teacher. He's between jobs and I'm letting him stay here," Cat explained. "Sikowitz—this is my… old roommate, Sam."

"Roommate, huh?" Sikowitz raised a bushy eyebrow.

Cat blushed, looking slightly ashamed. "Please don't tell Robbie."

"Cat? You coming back to bed?" Robbie himself came halfway down the staircase right then. He found his fiancé standing just inside the doorway, soaked with rainwater and dripping a puddle on their expensive wooden floor. Then he realized who their unexpected visitor was, and his jaw dropped. "Sam?"

Sam answered, "Hey." She felt slightly embarrassed of her appearance, and had to remind herself she'd never really cared about this guy's opinion.

Cat was about to go into a panic. She hadn't expected any of this to happen tonight. "Um, Robbie, can you give us some time to catch up? I'll be up in a while."

Robbie took a step back. "Oh, okay. Sure. I'll be waiting." He hesitantly retreated up the stairs.

Once he was gone, Cat turned back to Sam. She could hardly believe she was real. Her eyes locked onto her and she couldn't look away. "Sikowitz, do you mind?" she said without even glancing in his direction.

"Right. Of course. Sorry." Sikowitz rushed away.

For the next few minutes, Sam and Cat just stared at each other, both of them afraid to speak first.

Cat found Sam's appearance shocking, to say the least. She looked… rough. Her clothes had large holes in them, and she was significantly thinner than Cat remembered. It was also obvious she hadn't showered recently, either. Even the rain wasn't enough to hide it. She'd never enjoyed showering, Cat recalled—but life clearly hadn't treated her well this past decade. "Are you staying tonight? There's plenty of room. Did you bring anything with you?" Cat asked kindly, hooking their arms together just like she used to. She got the feeling Sam didn't have much of anything to bring. Her suspicions were confirmed when Sam blushed and looked away with discomfort, so she saved her from having to answer the question.

"Why don't you stay over? You can have the downstairs bedroom. There's a bathroom attached. I'll find you something to wear."

"Oh, you really don't have to…"

Cat took Sam's hand and dragged her further inside the house. "Yes, I do." She led her down a hallway and into a large bedroom. "Do you want to go hop in the shower? I'll leave some clothes outside the door for you."

Sam's eyes stung with tears. Cat hadn't changed a bit. "Well, if you're sure you don't mind…"

"Don't be silly. There's soap and shampoo in there—the towels are in the cabinet. You can take your time," Cat told her. She didn't need to ask to know that Sam was hungry. "I'll send Sikowitz to Tubba Chicken; I'm pretty sure it's open 'til midnight. He'll be back by the time you're out, and then we can get caught up. Does that sound okay?"

"Tubba Chicken?" Sam hadn't had Tubba Chicken in years.

Cat smiled. "Pucks, right? Twelve-piece? With barbeque and ranch dipping sauce?"

Sam almost started crying again. "You didn't forget."

Cat leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Sam's cheek. "Go get cleaned up, Sam. I'll be waiting for you when you get out."

Sam wiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall, then nodded in agreement and headed for the bathroom. She locked herself inside, and then she broke down entirely, sobbing quietly into her hands. It somehow felt like the bad part was almost over. She wanted to hold Cat until the end of time. She would never, ever leave her again.