fandomhigh | Library [11/12]

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Library [11/12]

Sam had given more than a little thought to whether or not he could stand to be in the library today. There were a lot of places in Fandom that reminded him of Peter, but considering the number of times Peter visited him during work, even before they started dating, the library held some of Sam's strongest memories. In the end, Sam decided that Peter wouldn't want him putting his responsibilities on hold, and that was enough of an incentive to get him inside today. He had a book on the desk to make it look like he was reading, even while he just sat at the desk and let his mind wander.

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Sam was at the desk, idly flipping pages in the book he'd picked out. Some of the pages had pictures, and looking at them was a lot easier than trying to read.

Sam hadn't brought anything for lunch, not intending to eat, so he left the library open.

Chuck didn't actually expect Sam to be in here today but he brought lunch around anyway, just in case. If he hadn't been in there Chuck would have gotten really high and eaten both sandwiches he bought. No need to waste, after all.

"You didn't have to come in here today, you know," he said when he came in. "Nobody would hold anything against you."

"It was this, or just sit in my room, or at the house," Sam said. "And I can only watch Paula Deen for so many days before her accent starts driving me nuts."

Chuck smirked. "I'd rather listen to Paula Deen that Rachel Ray any day. The woman abuses the right to abbreviate."

"At least Paula Deen's food comes out tasting good. I wouldn't eat what Rachel Ray makes," Sam said. Leave it to Chuck to find a way to distract him from his thoughts.

"What are you saying, Sam, you wouldn't eat a cheeseburger the size of your head and filled with eight different kinds of meat?" Chuck asked. "I'm shocked!"

In the Upper East Side you either distracted yourself from grief or you just flat out ran away from it. Emotions were for poor people or something.

"I leave that kind of eating to Dean," Sam said. "Honestly, he could probably pull that off."

"Well Dean's special when it comes to that sort of gross stuff," he said. "Oh, right. I brought you a sandwich. A normal one. Nothing Rachel Ray would approve of, I promise."

"I'm not really hungry, so a normal sandwich is probably good," Sam said gratefully. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, even though bringing Sam lunch on Thursdays was habit now. "I heard Dean came back yesterday."

"Yeah, when he heard about Peter, he came straight here so he could be here in person," Sam said. "For all that I rag on him for being a jerk sometimes, he's kinda really good at the big brother thing."

"Yeah, he is," Chuck said, perfectly fine with admitting that when Dean wasn't around to hear it. "That's good, that you've got people wanting to do that for you. Not that you don't deserve it."

"Gee Chuck, if you keep that up, I'm going to think you care," Sam said, smirking softly.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Don't let it get around."

"It'll be our secret, I promise," Sam teased.

"Well it'll between us and some squirrels," he said. "But it's nothing some blackmail won't take care of."

"Just give them some rum and they'll be fine. They like you a lot more than me, I think," Sam said.

"What makes you say that?"

"The squirrels have never really liked me," Sam said. "But then, I don't like them much either, so I guess it balances out. It seems like you get along with them though. It's your inner nice guy trying to get out, obviously."

"Yeah, I think it's more of a case of me being able to speak drunk," Chuck said. "And I don't threaten to put them in stews."

"Hey, I haven't done that in a good long while," Sam said defensively. "I also haven't threatened to step on any of them."

"Well since you're being so nice I'm sure a reconciliation is on the horizon," Chuck said with a nod. "Squirrel hugs are weird though, as a warning. They kind of wrap around an arm and squeeze."

"I'll keep an eye out. Or an arm out," Sam said, getting quiet for a few moments before adding, "Thanks, Chuck. You're exactly the kind of distraction I needed today."

"Distraction is one thing I excel at," Chuck said, smiling a little. "But you're welcome. I told you, I want to help."

Sam was back at the desk, not even bothering with the book anymore. If anyone had a problem with him sitting and brooding, they could take it up with him.

It wasn't hard to miss the grief and pain in Sam's psychic scent. Karla had noticed it yesterday in class, but it hadn't seemed like the best time and place to talk to him. But when she sensed him in the library, she found herelf opening the doors before she even consciously registered whose psychic scent it was.

"Sam?" she called tentatively. "I--"

And here words failed her. 'Are you all right' was stupid, what with the answer very clearly being 'no.' 'What's wrong' was presumptive and rude--he didn't have to tell her anything. For a minute, Karla wished there was one of the coven around, one of the Black Widows who always knew what to say.

"I--" She took a few halting steps into the library. "I don't know what's wrong, but it's clear something dreadful happened," she said, trying to remember what Sam had said to her at rehearsal two weeks ago. "And I'm sorry for your pain and grief and loss. I will understand if you don't wish to speak of it, or don't with to speak of it with me, but I wanted you to know that, well, if there is anything you need, if I can help you with it, I'd be glad to."

The sound of Karla's voice snapped Sam out of his reverie, and he couldn't help but look a little embarrassed. He didn't want to say he was okay, because it wasn't even remotely true, but he didn't want to worry her too much either. "Am I really transparent?" he asked. "Or did you hear about...?"

"Neither," Karla said, coming in closer. "If I didn't have the ability to read psychic scents, I probably wouldn't have thought anything at all was wrong." Karla wasn't so good at noticing the not-obvious when it came to people. "But I can sense emotions. I generally keep myself shielded so I don't know the nuances of what everyone's feeling all the time, but when there's a flare, I can tell. And you're flaring." She looked up earnestly at him. "Grief and pain and anger and hurt. And I know it isn't any of my business, so feel free to tell me to go away, but, you're my friend."

"You don't have to go away," Sam said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry I'm...flaring or whatever. I just...you remember Peter, right? My boyfriend?"

"Don't apoligize, Karla said, a touch sternly. "No one should ever apologize for how they're feeling or what they're feeling."

Uh-oh. Karla could see where this was headed and she didn't like the destination. At all. "Yes, a little. More because he was your boyfriend than anything else. Though--he was close to Claire, too, right?"

"Yeah, he and Claire were pretty close too," Sam said. "They know each other from home, even though my Peter isn't her Peter, but they still got along. There was...an accident, kind of. An explosion. Peter and his brother, they...well, Peter kind of was the explosion, so...."

He took a deep breath, and then sighed. Someday, he'd figure out how to explain this without sounding crazy, but today probably wasn't that day. "Peter has this ability, to pick up the abilities of others. But it's not something he can stop, it just sort of happens, and there was this guy with a power that was nuclear, and Peter tried not to get it, but then he did. And then he couldn't control it."

It didn't all make sense, mostly because Karla wasn't sure what 'nuclear' was, but she didn't think Sam sounded crazy. "So...Peter was like an ability-sponge?" she asked, making sure that she got it right. "His ability to soak up anything was countered by his ability to soak up anything? And that lead to him getting a power he couldn't control--one that lead to an...explosion?"

She winced. The only thing she did know about nuclear was that it when it exploded, it exploded big. There was no way Peter could have gotten away from that--especially not if he was the epicenter. "Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Ability sponge is a great way of putting it," Sam said. "Nathan, Peter's brother, he can fly, so when they realized Peter was going to lose control, he flew them up into the sky and...that was it." He'd managed to reach the point where he could get all that out, but it still felt unreal. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that."

"I can imagine," Karla said, sending out a wave of sympathy. She didn't know if Sam would even be able to feel it, but it didn't matter. It was the only thing she could think to do. "I am so, so sorry."

Why was it impossible to find things to say in this situation?

She tentatively reached over the counter, offering her hands if Sam wanted to grab onto them. "I wish there was something insightful I could say to you, something that would make this all make sense. But...there isn't. And I'm sorry for that, too."

She should really talk to Didi about what to say in these situations.

Sam smiled softly and took Karla's hands, giving them a squeeze. "I don't think there's anything that can be said to make it all make sense and that's not your fault," he said. "Thank you though, for trying. That means a lot."

"Well, you were there for me. I figured it was only fair," Karla said, striving for a kind of lightness. "Still, if there is anything I can do, just let me know, okay? Even if it's just baking cookies."

Sure Karla, kick a man while he's down.

"I know you love Peter a great deal. You always sounded so happy on the radio when you'd mention him. If you ever want to tell me about him, I'm always willing to listen."

"There's a lot to tell," Sam warned her. "Peter was my best friend too. He and I spent a whole year dancing around our mutual feelings for each other before we ever did anything. We were going to live together after I graduated," he admitted. "He made me happier than just about anyone."

"I don't mind listening," Karla responded earnestly. "There's such a void when someone you love dies. And for a little while, all it does is get bigger when you realize just how entwined in your life and thinking they were. You might be different, but I found talking helped ease that void--you're still focusing on them--him, I mean--and how he affected your life, but not in a vaccuum. You're sharing, instead of dwelling. It helps. Not a whole lot, at least at first, but a bit."

"I guess you have a point," Sam said. "If there's one place Peter and I were entwined, it was here. He came to visit me sometimes when we first got to be friends, but then the more we hung out, the more he came by, until he started coming every week. It didn't matter what was going on, or what day of the week I was working, he came here to see me every week. I thought it'd be hard enough when he graduated, but this...it's a lot worse, to know he's never going to come in here again."

Karla understood that. She hadn't touched the piano for months after her parents had died; knowing her father would never sit down and play duets with her again had been too much.

"But, just the same, isn't this then one of the places where you feel closest to him?" Karla asked tentatively. "Since so much of his essence permeates this room and your memories? Though--that might be later, when everything isn't so, umm, acute."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Sam said. "But I think you're right. This place reminds me so much of him and...yeah, maybe that won't hurt so much later."

Karla gave him a soft, encouraging smile. "You're very brave for being able to face this place now," she admitted. "I wasn't, not at first. So--I admire that."

All done!

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Library [11/12]

Morning Periods [11/12]

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OOC [11/12]