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 THREE - CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
"Double Rocky Road, right?" Cat asked, grabbing her purse from the chair and stepping into her shoes. It was mid-morning. After a restless night of sleep, Sam had finally been told that she could go home later this afternoon. The time for the risk of complications from her surgery had passed. Unfortunately, she wasn't tolerating her chemotherapy medication well and couldn't keep anything down. A quick conversation with Cat had revealed that she only felt like she could stomach ice cream right now, so Cat was on her way to the supermarket to buy Sam's favorite kind.
"Yeah. Try not to take too long, okay?"
Cat met Sam's eyes. She wasn't being impatient—she looked scared. Cat approached the side of her bed again and took her hand. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?"
"I'll be fine." Sam's grip on Cat's hand tightened.
Cat leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead. "Hang in there, Sam. I'll be quick." She picked up the TV remote and switched it on, then handed it to her. "Just try to relax, okay?"
"Mm-hmm." Sam flipped mindlessly through the channels as Cat glanced at her one more time before exiting the room.
Sam continued flipping through channels for the next couple of minutes, eventually settling on ESPN. Then she put the remote down, leaned back and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how long had passed when she heard the door swing open again. She lifted her head up and cracked her eyes open, expecting to see Cat. Instead, it was Dice, holding a glass dish of some kind. He crept quietly into the room and whispered, "Hey, Sam. How are you feeling?"
"Still never learned to knock, did you?" Sam grumbled, but she was smiling. She blamed the pain killers. She craned her neck to get a look at his offering. "Brownies?"
"My mom made 'em," Dice explained a bit too quickly, and Sam wondered if she truly did. "I just… I wanted to bring you something, but I wasn't sure what to get you, so…"
Sam regarded them cautiously. They did look pretty good. "Are they spiked?"
Dice looked confused. "What, like, with weed? No," he admitted apologetically. "That would'a been a better idea, huh?"
"No, it's cool, man. I was kidding." Sam accepted the dish from him, removed the tinfoil from the top, and dug into the first brownie. "Mmmm. They're actually really good. Thanks, kid." She knew she'd be regretting this soon, but right now she didn't care.
"No problem." Dice looked around. "So, uh, do you mind if I stay and hang out for a while? Where's Cat?"
"Oh, she just ran to the store. You can stay, but… just try to take it easy on the questions. I can't handle a whole lot right now," Sam warned him. "Sit down. It's awesome seeing you again. I can hardly believe it's you; you're like… a man now, kind of."
Dice chuckled. "You don't look like you've changed much," he replied, which Sam was pretty sure was a lie. "You gotta tell me what happened. When did you get back? And where did you go? And are you staying?"
Sam groaned and winced a little. "Dude."
"Sorry." Dice grabbed a brownie from the dish and Sam didn't stop him. "Seriously, though. You gotta explain." He took a large bite. "Start at the beginning."
Sam sighed. She decided to give him a very brief overview of the past decade. "When I left, I joined a motorcycle gang called the Obliterators. We rode around and gambled and stole and picked up girls and… didn't do much else. I was with them for about four years."
"Yeah?" Dice took another bite. "So, you were in the shootout?"
Sam visibly bristled with tension at the mention of it, but she forced out, "Yes. I shot a guy in the stomach, and… he didn't make it. I got four years for manslaughter."
"Holy shit." Dice's eyes were wide—he had only been sixteen when he heard news of the shootout and had wondered about Sam's fate ever since. "Did you get shot?" When he saw how uncomfortable Sam looked, he reconsidered and backed off. "Sorry, never mind. It's none of my business."
"One of my buddies took a bullet for me," Sam revealed, monotone. "It only got him in the leg, but he bled out during the fight. We called him Shokk; he was… probably my best friend."
"Jeez." Dice shifted nervously and shifted the topic of conversation slightly. "So, you were in prison for four years?"
"Maximum security," Sam confirmed with a nod. "Y'know, prisons get a really bad rap, but they're actually not much worse than the shelters. Homeless shelters, I mean."
"So that's where you've been living since you got out?" Dice wondered, treading carefully.
Sam looked away, ashamed.
"Hey, if I'm pushing too far, just tell me to back off," Dice gently assured her.
Sam cleared her throat. "No, it's okay. I… stayed at the women and children's shelter for a while, but they, um… kicked me out. So, I've been living under the bridge downtown for the past year or so."
"They kicked you out?" Dice furrowed his eyebrows. "I didn't know they could even do that."
"Yeah, it's stupid," Sam muttered. "I managed to save up enough to buy a couple Fatcakes, and some bitch went through my shit and stole them."
Dice's eyes were wide. "Oh, God, what'd you do?"
"Not a lot. I gave her a black eye and knocked a couple of her teeth out," Sam admitted. "They called my parole officer, and I had to do another fifteen days. They wouldn't let me back in the shelter after that. I still sneak in and steal food and shower and watch movies and stuff sometimes, though."
"Wow." Dice shook his head and said, "So you've been living under a bridge? Alone?"
"No, there's a pretty big homeless camp that extends into the forest behind it. I had a spot sectioned off and set up my tent there," Sam told him, still a bit embarrassed despite his receptive reaction. "I haven't gone back there in days. People have probably raided my stuff by now. Not that I had much to steal from anyways."
"You've been living with Cat now, right?" Dice asked curiously. "How did that… happen?"
"Oh." Sam smiled sheepishly. "I heard a song on the radio that she wrote for me and then just kind of showed up at her front door."
"So, she was happy to see you?"
"Uh, yeah, you could say that," Sam chuckled. "We, um… definitely had fun catching up, that first night. Made up for a lot of lost time, I think."
For a second, Dice looked confused. Then it clicked and he cringed inwardly. "Um, ew! TMI!"
Sam just laughed. Her stomach was starting to ache, but she continued on to her fifth brownie.
Dice paused, and then tentatively asked, "Did you really, though?" He had already clearly gotten the impression that Sam and Cat were romantically involved now. He just wasn't sure how serious it actually was.
"Oh, yeah," Sam drawled, smirking, "Apparently, I put Robbie to shame. It was… good. I mean, Cat is…"
"I know," Dice chuckled in agreement, then added admittedly, "But I always have found her kind of hot."
Sam cringed. "For fuck's sake, Dice." But it was comforting to know that he hadn't changed.