Sam couldn't sit still. He kept hopping on the soles of his sneakers, trying to extinguish some of the pent up energy. His nerves ran so high and what bothered him most was that he couldn't figure out why that was.
It wasn't that unusual. It wasn't like they hadn't expected it. After all, they'd been prepared, handled it with textbook accuracy. And yet, just the thought that Snitch Gravel had attacked their house was sending him into a panic. Why do it then? What had changed? What did he have to gain?
Where was she? Why wasn't she coming? And why did he need her so much? But no matter how hard he stared at it, the door to Skye's office remained locked. It only made his hands shake worse.
The sound of footsteps down the hall had him pushing himself off the wall. Skye was hurrying towards him, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a shirt and blazer, her hair caught up in a ponytail. Her style had changed since she'd started training, as if she was suddenly aware she'd have to run a lot and without notice if she wanted to hang around him. Gone were the high heels, the suit pants and skirts. Functional was the key word now.
"Are you okay? What happened?" she asked, the moment she reached him, already fumbling inside her purse for her keys.
"Nothing that drastic, which is why I'm freaking out about freaking out in the first place."
She finally got the door opened and ushered him inside. Sam headed straight for the sofa and sat on it, sinking his head in his hands. His knees bounced and he didn't even try to stop them this time.
Skye gave him a few seconds while she put her purse away and turned on the lights. Then she pulled the rolling chair in front of him and had a seat.
"Let's hear it. This not drastic thing that turned you into an overreacting snowflake."
Sam would've smirked if he didn't actually feel like an overreacting snowflake. "Snitch Gravel attacked the house."
"What?" Skye's tone was even, as if waiting for more. For some reason he appreciated that she didn't sound all panicky. That was his job.
"They threw a grenade through the window and Mom... Kyle got to her in time and nothing happened, but he said she was running straight at it." The thought of what could have happened made him shudder, but he pushed the nausea back and pressed forward. "The thing is, we were ready. The proximity sensors went off and we managed to push them back, lock down the house and save Mom."
"That's great." Her tone was still even, calculated, letting him spill out his emotions without hers interfering.
It was. But it had been so close, and the thought of his mother dying... A sob escaped his lips and he hated himself for it. She was alright, alive and well, maybe just a little shaken. No one had gotten hurt, the house hadn't even been seriously damaged.
Even so, there was something else that bothered him about this whole incident. It was the first time the danger had been personal, that their actual house had been the target instead of random people on the street and...
"There were so few of us," he whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"I know Jerry and Jimmy are away, that Jessie is gone, that Harry has no business being near my house, but... I never realized what it meant until we all supposedly gathered to fight something off. Five of us. Just five." There used to be five of them as the main core, and with the girls, ten. In the jungle, it had felt like there were so many people, but now... Billy was never going to be there ever again, and they'd all just scattered into the wind.
"And Kay," he said, his mind jumping from one awful topic to the next. "And Angie. It was so awkward. Angie just hovered around me, trying to avoid Tom. Kay just ignored Kyle even if he got second degree burns on his arms from the explosion. Sure, he heals fast, but that doesn't mean he's immune to pain..." Everything was so fucked and it only made another sob escape him.
"Sam." Skye took his hands and lowered them from his face. The warmth of her touch made him feel a tiny bit better. "Your mother almost died. You felt alone and unprotected. It's okay to be scared."
Was it? He was so unsure what was okay and what wasn't lately. Everything was a giant basket of crap. Crapbaskets. The word made him smile because it reminded him of a time when he wouldn't even dream of using fuck.
"That's right," she continued, her voice tender, putting her hand on his cheek. "Smile. Because it's going to make you feel better."
It didn't, not really. "I wasn't unprotected. I'm supposed to be able to protect myself as well as others."
"Of course, but that doesn't mean you're not scared you'll fail."
He was always afraid he'd fail. "I'm sick of bad things happening, sick of darkness." Of loneliness, losing his friends and family.
"When the sky is darkest, you can see the stars."
Her words snapped him to attention. There was a sparkle in her eyes that made his heart swell. She was beautiful and he'd never bothered to acknowledge it before. And the touch of her skin on his was more pleasant than he cared to admit. He placed his hand over hers to keep it there.
She didn't stiffen under his touch, didn't pull back. For once, there was no awkwardness. His stomach fluttered in a funny way that reminded him too much of the beginning of his relationship with Christine. This wasn't right. It was just his stupid impulse to kiss random women coming out again.
"Sometimes," she continued, "it takes a really hard fall for us to realize how strong we are. Everyone messes up, everyone has something to lose. Well, maybe not as much as you because we're talking about people dying here... Anyway, my point is, it's how we rise that makes us who we are. And so far, you're great."
So was she, so were her words, but that stupid heat filling his body had to go away. He pulled back because it wasn't fair towards her. But the truth was, he'd always needed and wanted someone to love. Not someone to necessarily love him, his entire relationship with Christine had proved that, but someone he could pour his feelings and attention on. Someone there to make him feel like a giver, not a taker.
First it had been his mother. He used to always hug and kiss her as a kid, until he got too old and his affections moved to Lisa. No wonder she'd thought there could be something between them, because he'd always been pretty touchy with her. Then Christine had come into his life, and the feelings changed completely. It wasn't pure, platonic love anymore.
It was infatuation, it was lust, it was the need to really kiss her, love her with everything he was. Put her on a pedestal she didn't deserve and fulfill her every whim, even if it killed him, even if it ended up ruining their relationship. And now when she was gone, all those feelings spiraled out of control, trying to find another target. Angie, Lisa and now Skye.
"That's not okay," he whispered.
She straightened in her chair. "What are you talking about?"
"I think..." God, should he even be telling her this? But she was his therapist so hiding any breakthrough regarding his ridiculous personality seemed a bit unproductive. "I think I might have a pathological need to love."
"Oh?" Skye crossed her legs, leaned her elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her hand.
"Yes." He wasn't exactly sure how to express it. "As in I find the need to have an object of affection, someone I can physically touch in a comforting way. I think that since Christine and I broke up, I've been spiraling out of control, trying to find a new target."
"And you think that's why you kissed Angie."
He was beyond grateful that she caught on so fast and he didn't have to say those words again.
"Yes. And why I thought being with Lisa might be a good idea. I just feel so... empty I guess, without someone to love. So selfish and... meaningless, I guess."
Skye picked up a notepad and started scribbling in it, the look of the professional filling her face. He had no idea why that bothered him since that was basically why he was there.
"And by love, you mean romantic love."
"Yes." Unfortunately. It would be so easy if he could pour it out on family and friends. Or maybe love himself. Though, as much as he complained and had feelings of inadequacy, he wasn't fundamentally unsatisfied with who he was, didn't hate himself. Actually, he did, but the hate usually lasted a few minutes.
"Love which implies lust."
The word made him squirm a little, but he nodded. She kept writing and he was a little curious to know what, but he didn't look. Their relationship had become so comfortable and actually useful that he didn't want to ruin it.
"So after the Lisa and Angie fiasco, did you find another target?"
The blood in his veins seemed to have turned into slushy and Sam fought the shudder overcoming him. He couldn't tell her that. It would just make things awkward and ruin everything and then he would really hate himself.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm assuming you brought it up because you're not satisfied with your new target."
Fair point and she had no idea. He hesitated, torn between not upsetting her and letting her help him. Keeping secrets had always backfired. It was what ruined his relationship with Christine in the first place. What tore Jessie and Jimmy apart. And as much as it sucked, no matter how awkward it was, he wouldn't make that mistake again.
"Okay. It might be you."
The pen froze in her hand as she raised her eyes to him. She was surprised, but fortunately didn't look upset or appalled.
"Please don't drop me as your patient," he blurted out. "I'm just starting to get comfortable with you and it's not like I'm in love with you. It's just my stupid impulse to focus... I'm not even attracted to you. Not that you're not attractive in an objective manner." God, he needed to stop talking like three minutes ago.
"Thanks for clearing that up," she said with a laugh, and it was probably just his imagination that it sounded a little bitter. "I'm not going to drop you as my patient. I've had a few suspicions regarding this need of yours ever since you told me about Angie. I agree that it exists. It actually explains a lot. What's your relationship with your father like?"
"My father?" Sam asked, taken aback. Still, it was better than discussing his sudden infatuation with her which really needed to go away.
"Do you feel resentful that he abandoned the family, that it was Kyle there to save your mother and not him? That he plunged you into this war with Snitch Gravel and just left you to it?"
"Um..." He'd never been resentful about the last part, maybe just a bit annoyed. The other things, hell yes. "I guess I am a little, though I never expected him to save anybody. He's not exactly the savior type." More like the leave everyone else to clean up his mess type.
"How did he act towards your mother when you were growing up?"
And the random questions continued. "He adored her. He'd do anything to make her smile." So when had everything changed so dramatically? How did a man who would do anything for his wife end up punching her and fleeing the house? Abandoning them all to Snitch Gravel?
"So you find it normal to shower a woman with love and affection. It is, after all, what your main male role mother and father figure was doing."
"I don't think there's anything wrong with that. My father might not be the greatest human roaming this earth, but he does have his good parts." Or at least used to.
"There's not. Except..." Skye stood and placed the notepad on her desk before heading for the small round table next to the sofa.
On it, she'd built an actual Jenga tower to make a few demonstrations regarding how stress factors affected him. She'd built the entire tower on three initial blocks, all of them thicker than the rest: Love, Family and Career. When she'd explained the basics about how what Christine did affected him, she'd pulled out the Love block.
The structure had swayed dangerously, but finally remained standing on the two remaining blocks. Now, she took a pair of tweezers and headed for it again.
"Your father's love towards your mother was love not bestowed upon you. He showered her with affection and attention. Romantic affection. To you, he was demanding, strict. From what I know of your family, your mother overcompensated and showered you with affection. Probably mostly because of Kyle."
"Um, what?"
She ignored him and set the tweezers around the Family block. "Which is why the thought of your mother dying is another destabilizing element for your emotional well-being."
Sam watched her trying to pull the block out without ruining the entire structure, his mind whirling with the new information. To him, it was as simple as he couldn't lose any more. But maybe it was also part of his need to give out love.
"You see," Skye continued, "on some level, you learned that giving a woman love makes a man great. And if there's one thing I know about you is that you want to be great. On the way, you've also learned that if you give love, you might receive at least some of it back. So your need to give love is connected to your need to receive it. It's a never-ending circle. Giving love validates you in your own eyes as a worthwhile human."
Where was she getting all of this? He couldn't even tell if it was true. "But that doesn't sound very healthy."
"I know it sounds bad now because you're projecting feelings on your therapist, but once you find someone and really fall in love, this stops being a problem. Trust me Sam, no woman will ever blame you for loving her too much."
"What if I'm suffocating?"
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "After all you've told me, you're definitely not suffocating. Probably because you're unconsciously aware of the danger and prevent it."
"So this thing with you... You don't mind?"
"I'd be a pretty lousy professional if I minded." She turned back to the tower and resumed her efforts to pull the piece out. "It's a defense mechanism for you, a way to ensure you don't close down emotionally, that you don't become selfish, that you don't become Snitch Gravel."
Sam's heart jumped. "What was that last bit?"
"If you're trying to tell me you're not at least a little bit concerned you'll turn out like Snitch Gravel, I don't believe you."
Okay, fair enough, except he'd never mentioned this particular aspect to her. "Why would I be?"
"He was is the Agency, he has ties with your family. He's not an idiot, as far as I gather. I know you well enough. You're thinking it."
He was, thought he wish he weren't. "Do you have a playlist for this too? The one you made me for the heartbreak worked."
"I'll see what I can do." And even if she didn't turn around, he knew that she was smiling.
His phone started vibrating in his pocket, blissfully distracting him. Still watching Skye's attempts not to bring down his tower of mental health, he answered.
"Sam, I need you to come home."
"Mom?" The question was stupid, he did recognize his mother's voice, even if she sounded like she had a head cold. "What happened?"
"I need your help. I thought I could do it alone, but I don't even know where to start and Jerry's not here and..." There was a sob before she seemed to pull herself together. "I'll tell you when you get here. I don't really want to say it over the phone."
"You're just making me really worried right now. Are you okay? Did anything happen to Tom or Kyle?" Last thing he knew, Tom was still home and Kyle had left for work.
"No, of course not. Tom left for college and Kyle is at work. It's just...There's no easy way to say this." There was a pause much too long for Sam's liking or the state of his nerves. "Your father is dead. I need your help to prepare everything for his funeral."
The entire world seemed to stop and Sam's pulse shot through the roof. There was nothing but low sobbing from the other end of the line as his mother attempted to compose herself. How? Freider had been gone for weeks and no one had even considered he could be dead. Not after three years of stubbornly dodging death.
"How?" he whispered.
The news was so numbing, he couldn't even tell how he felt about it except shocked. He'd been angry at Freider ever since he left the house, but now that he was gone... Was the anger still there? Was it pain, sorrow, regret? Was there any room for any of that anymore?
"I'd rather tell you all at once."
That line sounded familiar. Painful words should not have to be spoken more than once.
"Okay," he said. "I'll be home soon." And he hung up.
"What happened?" Skye asked, her back still to him as she wiggled her tweezers.
Sam stood. "I need to get home. My father died."
"What?" She turned around, the Family block finally removed.
The Jenga tower crumpled behind her in a fitting representation of how Sam's world continued to spiral into nothingness.
♠️♠️♠️
I know this update is late. I also know no one actually noticed because it's not like I get vicious readers for this story. Which is not a bad thing when I'm busy and in danger of running out of backlog.
So, we get more information about the inner workings of Sam's brain and he admits he is a bit dumb concerning love. At least Skye was cool about it. It's a lot more fun when she's analyzing him.
The next chapter will be a lot more interesting though. Prepare for more surprises.
Fun fact: The song attached to this chapter is one of the ones I chose years ago when I started developing the entire Skye - Sam arch. It says a lot about how their relationship is building.
Vote and comment for the win.