groupiedrifter | Inbox for ximilia.

[Newt's reminded of Hermann, because it's hard not to think of Hermann. He's known him for, what, a third of his life? Since 2013? Didn't help take out nazis, but sure did fight some monsters. If he knew Hermann had no life to return to, and he just poofed away? He'd lose his damn mind. He couldn't even conceive of how it's gotta feel for Sam — how it's gonna feel for a lot of people she was close to.

The beginnings of a headache start, but he's pretty fucking sure it's from how awful all this is and not because of whatever his head's doing these days. Smiling weakly, he says:] Sounds like you guys had one hell of a party together.

... How great that is, man. To get to have known her. Think about how many unlucky sacks out there didn't get the honor. You lucky bastard. [He stops, studying Sam's face for a moment, his hands clasping back more firmly.] I'll, um. I can play some stuff later, at the place I work nights at. In her honor. If you think there's anything she'd have liked, I mean...

[He sniffs, pushing up his glasses as he rubs his jacket across his eyes roughly.]

Ugh, don't look at me all watery-eyed like that...! I'll cry if you cry, and then we'll just both be crying all over the place, and then I'll have to lie to the Lionetta and say someone maced me or something on the walk back.

[They'd believe it, sure, with his current streak. But still. Fuck, he's so sad. He slouches forward to throw his arms around Sam, because he knows he'll absolutely regret not giving his friend that kinda comfort; or, at least... he hopes it's a comfort, because it's what he would've wanted if he was devastated by this kind of news.]

C'mere, dude.

[ It's not a comfort, if not in the way that Newt likely thinks. Sam is a man who struggles with letting his guard down, with letting others fully in. At the same time, it is a comfort in ways Newt likely didn't intend - because the way he's close to crying himself and shifts into Sam for a hug enables Sam to close himself up a little more, not to shut Newt out, but to wrap him in a tight hug that feels more like offering comfort to Newt than taking comfort himself.

And even though that's not technically what's happening, Sam tells himself that, because it's easier than admitting he's on the verge of spiralling and in desperate need of something catching him lest he fall and crash. ]

Can't have that.

[ There's a hint of mild amusement under the emotion in Sam's voice, and it's genuine. Newt's an easy presence to work with for someone like Sam. He gives him a firm squeeze, a gentle clap on the back. ]

Y'know anything with Bond vibes? That'd do the trick.

[ And yeah, he's right. How great was it for them to know her? Natasha friggin' Romanoff. And they knew her. ]

Hey... don't worry, alright? It's gonna be okay. It's gotta be.

[Newton laughs quietly, the sound a rumble that transfers chests, sounds off somewhere near Sam's ear.]

Pretty sure she could have kicked Bond's ass. Between you and me, he's a total chump.

[When he finally draws back, he looks a little unsure what to do; at a loss, it seems, on how to make this any better. He knows he actually can't, but Newton struggles with helplessness. He struggles with not having something productive to do, to solve a crisis.]

I'm pretty sure I should be the one telling you that.

...

It is gonna be okay, for the record. I'm sure she'd say the same.

Here's the fucked up part...

[ Sam shakes his head slightly, eyes skittering to the wide expanse of this insane city all around them. He glances up to where there's a faint blue light in the sky; Redwing's thrusters. ]

I already lost her and mourned her. It's been six months back home since she died. Nearly a year now if you count the time on the station and on missions. Dunno if that makes it easier on me. Grief ain't exactly something you ever get good at, right?

[ Except you do. Or maybe it's just 'cause this time, he can't just try to run away from home or run away to the air force or disappear in his own mind in bed for an entire month.

Something wistful in his gaze - and briefly, a sadness that goes so far beyond just Natasha. It's brief, only a flicker while Sam watches the sky. But as his thoughts skitter over his great-grandparents, his grandparents, his parents, Riley and countless others during their shared combat tours, his aunt, his brother-in-law, Natasha, Steve, Tony, Vision, for just a moment his eyes are impossibly dark and sad, as if for just a split second a lifetime filled with loss and grief sits right there below his long lashes.

And then he blinks and shifts his gaze to Newt, and his smile his genuine, and his eyes are warm. Filled with the love he bleeds out of the wounds every loss leaves behind, and that he still shares all over again with ever new person he lets close. ]

You're right, though. [ His lips curl. The sadness isn't gone, but it bleeds to the background visibly as Sam pulls himself together by sheer force of will and determination. It looks effortless on him. ] Bond's got nothing on Tasha.

[He almost says it.

"She could come back, you know. She could."

But is that fair to say? Surely Sam knows. Of course he knows. But putting that out there, inspiring hope in something that's not a guarantee, it feels a little heartless. It's one thing to say they're gonna stop an apocalypse no matter what; it's another saying a dead friend can keep being given back.]

... We lost a lot of people, before I showed up here.

To be honest, I haven't even let myself think about it. It hasn't really processed, you know? Because I'm here, and it's like... everything back home is on pause. I just tell myself that it's... something for me to figure out when I get back.

[He smiles sympathetically.]

I'm sorry you have to keep doing that... Mourning. I'm not really an expert on that... but I do know it's apparently something that comes and goes like waves. Or something — poetic like that.

[His smile fades.]

Do you — I mean, are you sure you want to be the one to tell them? Your friends?

[Newt'll do it for you, if you really need him to.

It hurts, but it can't possibly hurt as much for him as it does Sam.]

Want aint't the right word.

[ Sam gives Newt's arm a squeeze, takes a moment to think about how to put it. Is grateful Newt doesn't try to stir up hope. Sam knows that Natasha could be back - isn't sure how he'd feel about it. Would she even remember? Could a different, earlier version of her show up, one who never even reached Vormir?

Does it matter, right now? ]

Gotta be me. Gotta be someone who knows what they need. They're gonna need someone to hold them up for a bit and carry them through this, so they have the space and the safety to go through their feelings on this. I can do that for them. I gotta do that for them.

[ And he looks at Newt. Nor unaffected, but calm. Steadfast. This, he's good at - pulling himself together, preventing himself from coming apart at the seams, because other people need someone like that. So Sam takes Newt's hand - gives Newt something to hold onto, because that helped during his anxiety attack weeks ago, didn't it? ]

You know I'm hear anytime you need to let yourself think about it, right? You gotta give yourself the room, too. Don't let this be something that knocks you out for weeks 'cause it festered until it became too much. Mourning's difficult. It sucks. But it helps, too.

[He shakes his head.]

Sam, man. You know you're not supposed to be the one making me feel better right now, right?

[Newt's not like Sam. He's known that since Sam introduced himself, basically. Newt's a big crybaby, he's quick to emotion — the good ones, the bad ones — and he's easy to see right through. Heart on the inked sleeve. Even now, Sam's way more composed than the guy who didn't even just lose a dear friend from home. Newt just rubs one eye, breathes out, and tries to follow Sam's impossible example.]

Maybe for a rainy day, huh?

Go be with your team, dude. Don't let me keep you.

Raincheck it is. But hey, welcome to the patented Wilson brand of friendship - I'll always come to the rescue. Hey, c'mere a moment.

[ Sam pulls him in then. Another brief, but fierce hug. A little more genuine and raw than Sam usually is with people, but circumstances are... well, they are what they are, and pretending not to be on the verge of a breakdown is already hard enough - can't blame him for not being able to pretend he's fine, all things considered. ]

Thank you for being here, man. I'll see you around.

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