𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. sam uley

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

The stars beam in through the trees as Sam marches towards Sage. She's sitting on a boulder, resting her weight on her hands as she stares up at the sky. Sam watches as the moon illuminates the pale skin, making it glimmer without the luminescence of the sun. Something settles in him as he takes a silent breath, his body relaxing as he watches her relax on her perch.

When he steps up to her, he sees the exact moment her face falls. Sam's taste turns bitter. Surely, she had been expecting her brother, not the man who had shunned her for the past months.

He says nothing, too riddled with nerves to speak. This close, he can see her lashes that flutter in the wind, can pinpoint a small freckle on the side of her cheek that contrasts with the paleness of her skin. She fiddles with her hands, rests them on top of her legs before placing them underneath her thighs to keep them steady. She says nothing.

Sam finally speaks, and it makes her jump. Even now, he scares her.

"Thank you," he starts, feeling awkward. "For helping my mother earlier."

His eyes gaze at her like she is the only thing on this planet. He hates it, but he can't seem to tear them away from the porcelain beauty that she wields. He hadn't noticed it before, but she truly is a sight to behold, with or without the lure of the immortality.

"She needed it," Sage answers, voice quiet. Sam finds it entrancing, the way she speaks, and he holds onto it as she continues, "I apologize if her wounds made their own story. I had meant to heal them, but I figured she would find out what I am. Though, it didn't matter in the end." She presses her face into her hands, staring at the waning moon.

Before he knows it, he's taking a seat beside her. Her cool skin brushes against the warmth of him, felt even through the thickness of his leather jacket. The hairs on his arm perk up as though he's been frozen, but his entire body is warm.

"That's-I shouldn't have snapped at you. You had the right intentions."

"I was going to feed on her." Sage's voice burned with shame and honesty. "I'm sorry."

Sam cracks his knuckles because he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know if he likes the way that she is being so honest with him, so open and earnest.

She is trying, Leah had said.

"But you didn't. That's got to count for something."

Sam turns to stare at her, dark brown meeting a light amber. He remembers the crimson in her other eyes, the way the color melted through him like a stake. He had hated the color, hated the way it marked her as a murderer. But them amber is refreshing, new. It reminds him of change, of how she has come from the monster at the trial to-to a girl who missed her brother.

"I suppose," she whispers into the wind, switching away from him. "I still am sorry."

And Sam feels immense shame for his actions earlier. It fills him up like water in a pool, overflowing until the only thing he can say is, "Wasn't your fault." He kicks at the rocks on the ground, sighing. "She's always been clumsy."

A smile flits on Sage's face, and Sam tracks the movement. "She said that herself. She was a lovely woman."

Despite himself, Sam snorts, thinking about his mother's praises about Sage. "Said the same thing about you, actually."

"Oh." Sage's face falls, hair curtaining it. She seems bashful. "well, that was kind of her, then. Give her my thanks."

Sam wants to freeze the moment and live in it forever. The change is giving him whiplash since it's so unlike the usual malice he has towards her. He doesn't know if trying to accept the imprint is a good idea or not.

Instead of mulling it over, he says, "I will." Then, "I believe I have something I need to apologize for, too."

Sage's head swivels to stare at him, wide-eyed. Sam tries to ignore the way she tilts her head to the side, as though she is confused. "I'm sorry?"

He lets his lips twitch. "I've been trying to find the right time to do it and I suppose my mother's injuries were fit enough to give us some common ground-though I would have rather down it on better terms." Sam sighs, ruffling a hand through his hair. "But I wanted to apologize for my abrasiveness towards you when you first came here. I know you were scared of me."

"Oh," Sage replies, sounding bashful. "I wasn't scared. . ."

And it's not that Sam doesn't believe her (he doesn't), it's just that her actions prior to this meeting have been an indication towards Sage being scared of Sam.

When she concludes that she had been a bit scared, Sam feels disheartened even though he knows that it's his own doing. He thinks he's going to have to grovel for her forgiveness, but Sage tells him it's alright, that she seeks peace, and Sam feels even worse if that's possible. It feels like there's something lodged in his throat, like the sediment is back and choking him up.

He tries to distract himself by talking about how she's settling in. The words feel stilted on his tongue, broken and ragged as they come out of his mouth and he feels too big, like he's too much in the cool night. Sage is beside him, a solid presence that asks if he's alright, if he's okay. She's worried about him, about why he's fidgeting, and Sam can only ask about her brother, about Elis and how he's acted towards her despite her obvious loyalty towards him.

She brings up the fact that Elis is unforgettable, a talent she does not share, and Sam wants to scream that it's a lie because she's the only thing that he could think about for the past months. She's haunted his every waking moment since the moment he laid eyes on her during the trial in the winter.

"Forks isn't that great," Sam says when Sage claims that she would like to stay for a while. It stops him from saying, Please. Stay. And he wonders where that came from, because it's not the imprint. Sam genuinely wants her to stay, to experience everything she didn't during her time with the Volturi. He wants her to remain here with her brother. (With him.)

"No," she agrees with him, chuckling softly like two bells chiming together, "but the people are. I love Seth and Carlisle and his family. I have even found myself fond of Bella's friend Jacob and his friend Leah. She is not very kind, but she does not detest me the way Elis does."

"She is amazing."

It's out of his mouth before he can stop it. It's like an aftereffect of her hold on him. Admiration falls from his lips because at that moment, he had just thought of how angry she had been when she thought that Sam was coming to yell at Sage, not talk to her. How she defended Sage with all her might, dissuaded by no one in her beliefs.

He feels a bit sad about it, because he used to be proud of her standing up for what she believed in (even though sometimes it would grate his nerves because it was done at the wrong time), and now that's not his right. It's Elis's. And it hurts, just a bit. Will never stop hurting unless Sam fully lets her go.

They sit there in silence, and Sam thinks that they're both wrapped up in their own thoughts. It feels nice, sharing the space together under better terms. He feels comfortable, letting the cool breeze fall over him, mussing up his hair as he stares upwards, at the sky.

Sage sits beside him, and Sam tries to think more about Leah, about what they were and how he can let her go, move on, but he can't help but notice how bright her eyes are in the night, how they pop out like two topazes in a cavern, and that's all that's on his mind for the rest of the night.