𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. sam uley

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

Sam glares. Get out of my head.

"No," Edward argues. "I've waited for you for two months and you're just now showing up?"

Sam growls then, uncaring who hears him. How dare Edward try and come at him when Sam was grieving, lost to his wolf? He had lost Sage--had lost most of everything--that day. There had been no hope, no future without her. Aro had lived, but for what reason? It meant nothing if Sage wasn't there to celebrate it--to witness herself create life from flames she thought consumed her whole existence.

And then he comes back to the vampires hoarding Aro in their house like he was an undead hermit. Sam snarls, thinks of a vicious attack, his teeth hitting stone.

"Is that going to help anyone?"

It'd help me.

Edward chuckles again, and Sam rolls his eyes, rage burning in him.

"I apologize," Edward says, somber moments later. His brows soften. "I'm not trying to make fun or anything, Sam. I just don't know why you'd think we'd let him live."

You said-- Sam pauses, thinking back to Carlisle's words. Hesitation and weariness creeps on him. They had protected Aro. Right? You said there was a reason he was alive.

Edward raises a brow because he can see Sam's thoughts. "And you're here because?"

Sam loathes him. I'm here to save Sage's life.

"So vague," Edward teases. "Can you explain how, maybe? Just for fun. Entertain me." His black eyes are glittering with mirth. Sam's mouth quirks in a mean snarl, but there is a part of him that has missed Edward, wants him to know the truth.

In his head, he pictures the conversations with Ez and Seth when he returned. He thinks of Ez's words in the forests on that hot, humid day. Of the declaration to his pack that he was going to kill Aro as a human. Of what that meant for him as a shapeshifter.

Edward watches the thoughts, gathers them with tense shoulders. When Sam settles back down, Edward is rigid as stone, and his voice is hard when he asks, "Can one of us do it? Can it be a vampire?"

Sam allows his silence to speak for itself. He has no answer to give Edward.

Edward sighs, as though this were expected. He mutters, "Carlisle," and a moment later, the door clicks open and then Sam is staring at the vampire who he wants to kill the most, if only for Carlisle's compassion.

"Sam," Carlisle greets, voice breathy like he's relieved. He frowns a moment later when Sam growls at him, in no mood to be treated as though nothing happened. "No, I suppose I deserve that." Carlisle spreads his hand, resting one on his chest. "I do apologize. I do not know how long you have been here, but I can only imagine your anger."

Sam figures not even his thoughts could demonstrate the rage that simmers in him at the moment. Edward coughs anyway.

"I don't think—" Edward starts, awkward like the teenager he is.

Carlisle snaps to attention, solemn as he is. "Yes, well, I'd imagine you'd not wish to talk about it." Carlisle glances at Sam. "We saved him because we had hoped that it wasn't the end for her. We hoped he would bring her back, somehow."

And you thought by keeping him here and not even searching for answers was the right way?

When Edward relays this to Carlisle, Carlisle flinches. His voice is soft, guilt-ridden, when he says, "We never stop learning, Sam, even if we stop aging. It was a mistake I made—that we made. I can only hope to correct it going forward."