groupiedrifter | Inbox for ximilia.

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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