I'll Stand By You

Roger grinned. Her laugher had the same effect as her accent. It was just very... real, and real was something they needed in this awkward, demented, short-film script worthy world. "I can still see it you know," he said with a both definitive and mischevious tone. "So you might as well move your hands." There were things he'd never call her out on, others he'd never give a second thought to, but bringing out the giggy schoolgirl in Sammy was becoming somewhat of a past time. He slipped one of his hands aroud her's and gently moved it to rest over his on the bed. He was pretty sure he'd never be able to word it better than she had in her song. Home.

"How can you have this effect on me?" Sammy asked, a question that was unneeding of an answer. She smiled as he took her hand, stopping to stare at their hands together for a moment. "You enjoy seeing me like this, I know you do," she said. "One of the only times I ever get a smile outta you."

-skipidy skipping-

He'd helped Sammy move her things into the Loft later that day and given her the ever formal initiation that was an evening with him and Mark. She'd been leeniant enough about his end of the deal; enough he didn't have to start it right away. But the day that he did came too fast in his oppinion. Or maybe it was just that he'd had too long to worry about it. He'd only lasted a few hours the first time. He tried it on his own to see if he could but the symptoms started to show, flashbacks to last time, and then he got out and shot up again before he'd even said out loud he was quitting. Logically, it was stupid. Each time he took a hit he just made it longer on himself. This was an old game and he should have gotten better at it, but logic didn't exactly mean much after hours of shaking and puking and enduring stabbing pains that went from your toes to the tips of your hair that you knew you could get rid of with just one little bag of smack. And so he was currently avoiding facing his problems by being a difficult human being, and having locked Sammy and Mark out of his room while they were asleep.

Sammy shook her head. She'd been warned that Roger would play games like this, but she had her own games to play in return. She sat with her back against the wall next to the door of Roger's room, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. She had a plan, but she could only hope it would work. "Roger......" she called through the locked door. "C'mon now darlin' don't be like this," she purposely thickened her accent as thick as she could get it, knowing it was one of the things Roger loved about her, she was hoping to use that drawl as a weapon against him, as a way in. "You know I only wanna help, but I can't exactly do that from all the way out here y'know...."

Roger shifted slightly as the voice started him; everything startled him now. He'd settled in the far corner of the room, opposite of her seat. He burried his face in his knees. He figured if he was quiet long enough she'd think he was asleep or couldn't hear him, and go away. He just wanted everyone to go away. He didn't even feel like having a battle of the stubborn with Sammy right now. She'd win on unfair advantages. And one of those was sounding dissapointed in her accent. He loved her accent and he hated dissapoining her and even though all he had to do to make it better was unlock the damn door he couldn't make himself want to. The locked door was the only thing he had any control of and he planned on keeping it that way.

Sammy sighed softly. She had to find a way into that room. Not being there with him, to comfort him was driving her crazy. "Roger please...." there was a hint of pleading in her voice. "The longer you suffer in there alone the longer I suffer out here," she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, gather her words. One misspoken word could mean the difference between getting in, and going back to bed alone. "Roger, darlin....." she began. "I know this isn't easy, and whether you're willing to admit it or not, I know you're probably scared to go through it again," she said. "but it'll be a lot less scary if you let me help you through it."

Of course, she was right. She always was. And even in a state of emotion that he couldn't understand enough to name, Roger knew it. He hated her upset voice. He hated the fact that he was the one making her worried and upset. And he knew he'd be hearing it for a while if he didn't open the door. So on that point, he got to his feet slowely and clicked the lock that was separating the two of them. He didn't actually open the door, look at her, or say anything. He just went and sat back in the corner and waited. He kept his gaze down, focusing on tugging the sleeves of his shirt over his hands. If he was willing ot talk he'd have said something like 'there, you won. now what?'

Slowly, Sammy stood when she heard the door unlock. She opened the door and gently pushed it open, going over to sit next to Roger without a word. She put one arm around him, the other hand running gently through his hair. She stayed silent still, no words were needed. No 'I told you so's' or bragging about who was wrong or right, Roger didn't need that, not now. He needed comfort, support, and that's the only thing Sammy had wanted to give him.

Innitially he tensed under her touch, but it wasn't so bad. He supposed he'd been thinking she'd talk more, make him do more. Expect more, maybe. More anything didn't sound too good right now to him. This; this wasn't so bad though. He trembled and curled further into her instinctively, mumbling "sorry" after he realized, and then in effort to distract them both "hey".

She tightened her grip a bit when he curled close, just in an effort to let him know she was there, she wasn't leaving. "Don't apologize sugar, it's what I'm here for," she told him, still running a hand through his hair. "Use me as a teddy bear, a pillow, whatever you need darlin," she said gently.

He nodded a little, listening to her assurances and focusing on her hand in his hair as his body calmed down. When he wasn't shaking so much he straightened up enough he could actually see her face -he'd been avoiding it thus far- and he gave her a tired smile. One day, he was going to need to figure out what had gotten into her to make her see anything in him. Right now, he was simply going to appreciate what she was doing and try not to screw it up.

She gave him a soft smile in return, her hand still in his hair as she noticed how much it relaxed him. "I'm proud of you y'know," she told him. "The fact that you even agreed to this is a big step on it's own, you could've walked away, said no, and left me in my lonely little apartment, but you didn't, and I'm so proud of you for that." She didn't care how cheesy, or stupid it sounded, she was proud of him, and for every little accomplishment he made through this, every chance she could, she would tell him so.

"No I couldn't have," he told her. He wasn't stupid enough to let such a good thing -or person- walk away. Well... he was, actaully, but that's one of that many things Mark and Collins over the years had become experts at preventing. Usually with something along the lines of 'stop trying to use your head Roger, that look good on you'. And really, he always had been more of a truth your gut before what you're taught person. He wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that he took her praise like a young child would, but immature or not it made him feel good. It made all this seem worth it.

"Well, whether you could've or not, you didn't, and that's the important thing," said Sammy. "The fact that you agreed to do this means a lot to me, it means the world to me honestly," she said. "You mean the world to me Roger....hell you mean so much more than the world to me...."

"You mean the world too. More. The worlds not all it's cracked up to be." No, the world didn't shine anything like she did. It wasn't even a just comparison. "I wouldn't be doing it without you." Not.. not his words. Roger moved away suddenly. He hadn't forgot but he'd forgot to remember. And it wasn't right. It wasn't right. There wasn't a thing about it. They'd said they would die without each other and the urge to to do something with the razors in the bathroom that he knew he'd regret if he lived to tell suddenly seemed very overwhelming. It was gone before he could even understand where it came from, taken over by grief for another woman who he'd reminded himself of accidentally. He didn't remember getting up but he must have because when he next actually paid attention to where he was he was once again locking himself in a room, this time the bathroom, sinking to the ground against the door and staring at a scene which he knew for a fact wasn't real.

Sammy got up quickly to follow Roger from the room, only to hear the click of the lock just as she arrived at the bathroom door. "Dammit...." she muttered to herself. She had to figure out a way to get him out of there. She'd recognized his sudden reaction as being similar to Chris' when he had been trapped in a fever induced delusion. Whatever flashback, or memory Roger had triggered in that bedroom, was what was keeping him in that bathroom. She knew simply calling for him would startle him, or confuse him, so she had to think of another way. As she leaned against the door she got an idea, and started to sing.

Is this the whole picture
Or is it just the start?
Is this the way you love me?
You're capturin' my heart
I used to try and walk alone
But I've begun to grow
And when you tell me just to rest
I'm finally lettin' go
I let go

And I'm here to stay
Nothin' can separate us
And I know, I'm ok
You cradle me gently
Wrapped in your arms.... I'm home

Even after she started singing, it took him a while to fully come out of if. Sammy, he was with Sammy. The bathroom wasn't full of blood. And he wasn't staring down at a lifeless redhead. However, the quick image to his conscious mind was enough to have him vomiting the little he'd managed to eat over the last few days in the toilet. He pulled down one of the towels and wiped his face. He definitely, definitely hadn't been crying. He was sick and his eyes were watery. Right. He just wanted to sleep.. for a decade. Or get a high. He really needed a hit. Dammit. And Sammy was still outside. Right. "Later." Like she would ever listen to his ideas to go away.

"Roger darlin?" Sammy called gently, hearing the noise from inside the bathroom. She was worried about him, very worried about him in fact, and if she had it her way this would be the last time he'd be out of her sight for any given time period. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but she knew how his mind was probably working at the moment. Get away, go get high, nothing more. She wasn't going to let that happen. "You alright sugar?"

He really didn't want to talk right now. The good that did him last time. He was pretty damn sure it was obvious that he wasn't alright. He could hardly figure out where he was, he felt terrible, and he needed a hit that should wouldn't let him have. He knew she was staying because he didn't trust him not to leave, and that made him upset. If he really wanted to get past her and out the door he could; he could have already done it by now, and she knew it.

The brunette sighed, biting down on her lower lip as she sat down against the wall next to the door, much like she's did outside the bedroom. She wasn't going to fight with him, she wasn't going to argue, the mere thought of it brought back memories she wasn't ready to face, a reality she'd hidden from for almost a decade. There was much much more to Chris's death than Roger, or anyone for that matter, ever knew.

Roger wasnt surprised when he heard her taking a seat on the other side of the door, but he was surprised when she didnt say anything else. Thats what hed wanted, but he hadnt expected to get it. Especially so fast. Had he done something? He didnt think hed done anything to her, but he couldnt remember it all. "Sammy?"

This time it was Sammy who was lost in memories, memories of that cold January night all those years ago. "If you walk out that door right now Christopher Jacob, I swear I won't be here when you get back!" she'd said, and he'd left. She was waiting there when he returned though, even after she'd swore she wouldn't be. She was there, waiting on the couch as always, when he staggered in, higher than she'd ever seen him before. She led him to the bedroom, and tucked him in to bed as always. Later that night though, something went wrong, and she panicked. To this day she didn't know why she never called for help, but she didn't, and Chris died in her arms that night. Being such a small town, everyone assumed it was the infection Chris had gotten a few weeks before, that led to his tragic demise, and the young teenager nodded in agreement as the others came to their conclusions. She'd lied, not to protect herself, but to protect Christopher's reputation, and to protect his mother from having to know the truth about why her son always needed more meds.

"Sammy?" he asked again. Roger knew for a fact she was still sitting there. And the silence was unsettling. He reached up but hesitated before opening the lock. This wasnt proving a very good way for him to be alone. But whatever had been posessing him to push her away in the first place had now passed. Stupid.. Stupid withdrawal bipolarness. He tapped the edge of the door before opening it just a little. "Are you okay?"

The creak of the door should have been a warning sign to Sammy that someone was coming, but as per usual, at the sound of Roger's voice, she jumped startled again. She gave a small nod, pushing back the tears that brimmed her eyes. "I'm fine," she said after a moment or two. "Just worried about you s'all."

She didn't look fine, he noticed when he peeked out the door, but there was nothing Roger could say to that. He couldnt read her mind. "Theres nothin' to worry about" he shrugged it off, "do you, uh, wanna go back to the room? We might as well sit around on the bed instead of the floor." He hadnt gone out yet because he didnt know what what hed do. It seemed safer for them both she innitiated what she was confortable with.