The rain had chilled Sam to the bone when he'd first stepped out, but he could no longer feel it.

It was done. Skye was put to rest under the mound of fresh earth, and now all that was left was her headstone and mud.

Skye Amelia Grant.
Loving wife and mother. Talented psychiatrist. Amazing person. Savior.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off the headstone. So little words to express so much. An entire life, so many hopes and dreams.

Everyone had gone home by then, left him there at his own request. And finally, once alone, the tears came. They rushed down his cheeks like a raging river, blurring his vision, his mind, every feeling except the one of despair.

She was gone. What was he to do without her? His hand tightened around the single red rose he held. He was supposed to throw it over her casket, but he couldn't. Instead, he'd held on to it, the thorns digging into his skin, making blood trickle down his wrist.

It was time.

He knelt next to the grave and placed the blood splattered rose next to her headstone, his eyes glued to her name. Now that he was so close, he couldn't pull away. His hands found the mud and he let himself lay there, on top of her, his fingers digging into the dirt in a last desperate hug.

"I miss you so much," he said, between sobs. "And I always will."

It felt relieful to say it, to admit it, to be in the place he would join her when the time came. Because he'd promised her that much.

Sam opened his eyes, his entire body aching from his precarious sleeping position. Next to him, Skye sat with her back propped against the pillows, a small frown on her face as she counted envelopes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice weak and hoarse.

"Hey, Snowflake," she said, gathering the impressive stack of envelopes. "Just working."

"Working? You should be resting."

Her lips lifted in a bitter smile. "I'll have enough of that soon enough. I need to say some things to some people."

Sam watched as she flipped through the letters, taking in the names on them. Her parents, her best friend Lucy, Kay, Kyle, Jessie, Jimmy, Jerry, Sarah, Tom, Angie. Christine.

The last name trumped the shock of Skye writing to Angie who was gone and Jimmy who was out of it. "You wrote a letter to Christine?"

"Maybe the most important one," she mumbled. "But it's only in case she shows up again."

The thought was so strange and foreign. They hadn't heard anything from Christine for almost a year, ever since their wedding. She'd made good on her promise and vanished from their lives.

"I want you to give them out. Don't read them. Except the one for Christine. You can read that one." She bit her lip, looking exhausted. "Sam, I have a favor to ask."

"Of course, anything." He sat up and wrapped her in his arms.

"I'm not insane. I know you're young and you'll move on."

"What? We're not discussing this now!"

"Yes, we are. Sammy needs a mother or at least a mother figure. And I'm sorry to say that your mother is not the best example and mine can't be around enough."

He couldn't argue with that, so he kept his mouth shut.

"But..." She took in a deep breath. "I want you to promise me that when your time comes, you'll be buried next to me. Because you were my everything and I want to know that I'll still mean something to you."

Her words pierced his very being and tears filled his eyes. "Of course. Don't ever doubt that you're everything to me, too. I'll never forget you."

She smiled, but it was filled with sadness. "Good."

And he would keep his promise, no matter what. That was why it was very important to face what happened and think about her with love. Remember her and love her, not try to repress the pain by pretending she never existed. Embrace the sorrow he was feeling because she deserved every tear, every jolt of pain. She deserved to be remembered as the beautiful human being she'd been.

So it was natural to cry, to not want to leave her grave, stay with her one more minute. One more hour. However long it took for him to cry his heart out and release the terror inside him.

Because he was scared. As much as she told him not to be, it was impossible. Change had always been frightening and this was the worst it could get. But he would face it, be brave, just like she'd been, never once showing signs of weakness or complaining about her fate.

Except for one tiny lapse that proved she was only human.

Sam shifted and blinked into the darkness. He'd been fast asleep and he was still exhausted, so he wasn't sure what had awakened him.

He tightened his hold on Skye and placed his cheek on top of her head, closing his eyes. A small whimper from her had him tensing.

"Baby, are you okay? Do you want me to get someone?"

She shook her head, her face buried in his chest. "Go back to sleep." Her voice was drowning in tears.

"No! Tell me what's wrong."

She raised her face to him, tear stains on her cheeks. But she stayed silent, just watching him. His heart ached in ways he never thought possible.

"You don't have to protect me, Skye. We're in this together."

"I'm so scared, Snowflake." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "So, so scared. And guilty. Because I know I'm leaving you to face everything alone."

"It's not like you're choosing to give up."

"That's true. But I feel like I've taken the best of what you have to offer and am bailing out on the hard times."

He shushed her and stroked her hair, doing his best to be strong for her when she finally needed it.

"I'll never think about it like that. You said it. It is what it is, and we need to make the best of it. At least you'll be safe from everything going forward."

She tightened her hold on him. "I regret nothing about our life together. You made me so happy. The only thing I regret is not getting to see Sammy grow up."

His heart broke at her words. "Yes, you will. And you'll keep her safe. Both of us."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much for being here, for being strong. For everything."

But it was her who continued to be strong after that one time while he fell apart around her. He believed what he'd said, but it wasn't much comfort once faced with losing her. Her death had opened a hole in his chest he wasn't sure would ever close.

"I'm so hollow," he muttered, clenching his fingers in the mud. "So hollow without you."

It had started the moment she'd died in his arms and no amount of crying and screaming could make it go away. It had been insanely hard to let go of her, accept that she was dead. He'd taken her to bed, lay her on it and then laid next to her, cradling her in his arms until the nurses burst in and threw him out, chiding him for not announcing her death.

At that moment, as he'd finally let go of her cold body, he knew that was no longer Skye. His wife was gone, spread her wings and flown away. And it wasn't even what hurt the most.

"It's not your body I miss. It's you. But this is the closest I can get to you."

And that was why he couldn't stand, couldn't walk away. Because once he did, he would have to morph his grief into something productive, and he wasn't ready yet. Just one more moment, one more minute, one more hour. Maybe then his tears would dry and he would be able to stand.

So he stole more time, lying with his cheek pressed on the grave, letting his mind wander and his tears flow.

The rain suddenly stopped pouring over him, even if the sound of droplets hitting the ground still filled his ears. He turned his head and looked up to see a huge black umbrella over him. The slender arm holding it belonged to Christine.

She watched him, her eyes filled with tears, her body trembling, but said nothing, as though afraid he'd lash out at her again. He didn't need to. He'd unloaded his misery into the ground and it was time he moved away and focused on the living.

It was what Skye wanted.

"Thanks," he muttered, moving into a sitting position.

"You're very wet," she observed with another tremble. "It can't be comfortable."

He nodded and forced his numb body to stand. Once he towered over her, he realized her shaking was not due to repressed tears. She only wore the sweater and she was obviously cold.

"Here." He shrugged his jacket off, took the umbrella and passed it to her. "It's only dirty on the outside."

She nodded and took it, draping it over her shoulders. "It's warm."

Yes, it was, because he was only dead on the inside. He looked towards the grave, but the magic was broken and it was nothing but dirt now. As it should be.

"We should go. Do you have a lift?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "I'm fine. Just... I'm not a vulture, Sam. I didn't come here to pick up pieces or anything. I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay."

His mind drifted to the letter Skye had left Christine, but he didn't have it on him and hadn't gotten to read it anyway. Just his own. And maybe this was a one time thing.

"Thanks." He passed her the umbrella. "I appreciate it. And sorry for lashing out earlier."

She gave him a small smile and walked away, his jacket still over her shoulders. He didn't mind. Not like he ever planned on wearing it again.

He turned around and made his way back to the parking lot, ignoring the rain. He reached his car and leaned against it, taking his phone out. He had a missed call from his mother and a few messages from his brothers. He wrote back and assured them all he was okay and heading home, then asked Tom to meet him because he had questions and a letter to pass.

He lingered another few moments, wondering how to get his wet ass in the car, when another umbrella suddenly appeared above him. This time it was his in-laws, Jack and Rose Brandon.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

They took a look at his dirty clothes, but said nothing. They were probably the only people to truly appreciate his mud bath.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Jack finally asked, his voice shaking.

He shook his head. "No, but I will be. I have to be."

Rose nibbled on her lower lip. "We sure hope you will, dear." She paused for a second, her face filled with grief. Then, she took in a deep breath. "Look, Jack and I have been thinking. This is so unfair towards you. You're so young, left to care for a baby."

Sam's insides froze. He hadn't been expecting this from them. Had Skye suggested it? No. She would've never asked her parents to take Sammy away from him. This was them, but their tone indicated they had his best interest at heart.

"It's not unfair. Sammy's my baby and I love her more than anything in this world."

Jack and Rose looked at each other, worry etched on both their faces.

"You're still in school, Sam, barely starting your career."

He wanted to laugh about the barely starting part. They had no idea what his career actually was and how far he'd come. And he would never tell them.

"I see what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, but I want to raise Sammy myself. You're always welcomed to help and stay over as much as you'll want."

Rose let out a defeated sigh, but Sam could tell she agreed with his answer. They had both hoped Sam wouldn't want to ditch his kid, even if they wouldn't have blamed him if he did.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Jack asked.

"I've been helping Skye with everything ever since Sammy was born. And I have a mother and three very competent future sisters-in-law who can help me. Not to mention my brothers. I'll be fine. But if I ever need your help, I won't be too shy to say so."

They both smiled, and Rose grasped his muddy forearm. Sam smiled back, so grateful for these people who hadn't judged him and Skye, who had supported them through everything, and who were still his family even if their daughter was gone.

"Then is it okay if I stick around for a while?" Rose asked. "I've taken some time off work..."

"Of course. As long as you'll need." Sam opened the door to his car. "My mom will be happy to have you. I'll see you at home."

And so it was settled. With help from both sides of the family, Sam was sure he would handle Sammy just fine.

🏯

After so much time roaming, it was weird to be inside his own apartment again. But what was weirder for Tom was seeing Sam there, slouched on the couch, his clothes muddy, with a pensive air which didn't even begin to cover the misery Tom could feel inside his twin.

Apparently mud was an indicator of terrible times. Tom remembered all too well when Sam had crashed at his place all dirty last time, after he caught Christine cheating. This time, it seemed different, though.

"You're taking it well," he said, sitting down on the coffee table in front of Sam and passing him a bottle of beer.

"I don't have the luxury not to," Sam answered studying the bottle for a second before taking a swing.

Tom took a sip of his own drink. "I thought this would kill you."

"I've grown," Sam answered with a shrug. "I can't afford a teenage pity party when I have a kid."

Fair enough. Sam had found a sort of balance in his life after the whole Christine shitstorm, and even if this was much worse, he wasn't crashing and burning. He was right. There was too much at stake this time.

"I'm really glad you have. And proud of you, even if I don't know how much that's worth."

Sam gave him an exhausted smile. "It's worth everything. You're the cool twin so your approval is very important."

He wasn't the cool twin. Maybe the fucked up twin with his life a terrible mess. But he'd take a page out of Sam's book and sort himself out. He'd promised himself that the moment he'd gotten the news about Skye's death. It put things into perspective more than anything else ever had.

Tom took another swing of beer. "So what was so important that you wanted to talk today?"

"Why did you come back?" Sam asked, fortunately getting straight to the point, but making no sense.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I mean it would've been okay if you didn't come. Jessie didn't."

Tom squinted at his twin and felt the honesty in his words. He also felt that he was actually glad Tom had shown up.

"Sam, you're too important for me to miss something like this. Jessie has valid reasons not to show."

Sam paused for a few moments, lost in thought. "What about Angie?" he finally asked. "Did you catch her?"

Tom pursed his lips, doing his best not to make a face, but he wasn't sure he pulled it off. "Yeah. Quite fast, actually. Turns out, she didn't really want to be caught."

The memory had him drinking another mouthful of beer, but the bitterness of the drink didn't even come close to the taste in his mouth.

It had taken him only two days to track her down. He'd thought it would fix everything, that she'd be glad he came, would join him home, and they would figure out just what they wanted from each other. Instead, Angie had been furious, called him a stalker, and walked away.

Left speechless and confused, he tried another approach. It took a little longer to track her the second time around, but once he  did, he spent some time really stalking her to see what she was doing while away.

As it turned out, she tried to build a semblance of a normal life. She rented a place, got a simple job, then just went through the motions for weeks on end.

She did nothing spectacular, nothing to heal, and looked downtrodden and miserable. Then she left it all behind and started anew in another place. Same motions. Place to rent, job, routine, leave.

Tom had followed her through three towns before he finally decided to approach her again. He chose a bar and struck a conversation with the woman joining Angie for the evening, a co-worker of hers. It had taken Angie precisely ten minutes to cut into their conversation and send her new friend away.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked between her teeth.

"Trying not to be a stalker and make you rush away fuming," he answered with a shrug.

"No, you're trying to make me jealous. What are you even doing here?"

He analyzed the anger on her face, the fire burning in her eyes, trying to understand where it was coming from. Yes, he'd messed up, but it didn't explain what she was doing.

She wasn't making new friends, any boyfriends, or building a career. He'd mentally prepared himself to fight heartache and jealousy, but there was no reason to. She wasn't moving on.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "This life doesn't bring you any joy. You're just wasting your time."

Her eyes widened. "That is none of your business."

"Seriously, Angie. I've been watching you for months, trying to understand what it is that you need, why you're doing this. I just see you as miserable and as tense as you were when I met you."

Her eyes filled with tears and she bit down on her lower lip. The vulnerability in her stance made him want to hold her, protect her from the world. Just like it had when they'd first met.

Her words didn't let him. "I don't want you following me."

"You can't turn back time, Angie. If you act sixteen, minus the school, it's not going to make you sixteen. You're not going to un-meet me, un-fall in love with me, un-accept Herrison's offer."

"Shut up," she whispered.

"It won't change what I did, what happened with us."

"I said shut up." She banged her fist against the table. Fortunately, the noise in the bar drowned out the sound.

"You can't keep running. You need to face reality."

"I don't need this shit from you."

"Then what do you need?" He wished he could be angry at her. Turn around and walk away. But the entire situation only made him sad. "I could accept this, let you go if I saw you bettering yourself, or at least being happy. But you're just falling into a routine even you can't stomach for more than a month."

Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away. "Just leave me alone."

"You said you wanted me to chase you. And I should have." The truth was, he had in some way. Because it was always him leaving the past behind. Never her.

"Yes, but without me telling you to."

Too late for that. "Do something with your life. Whether it has me in it or not."

His words had shut her up and he'd walked away. Maybe it really was too late for them, and he had no objective reason to keep following her. But he did. He needed to see her moving on, be with someone else. It was the only way his stubborn mind could accept that it was over and let her go.

Even if their conversation had been short and pointless, he noticed that, despite spending the next few weeks moping around, her next destination was better.

She started taking up yoga, found a job at a museum, giving tours to excited preschoolers, and all around looked much more satisfied with what she was doing. And yet, she didn't make friends, didn't date, didn't continue her studies.

Tom watched her with fascination and noticed that she'd developed the habit of looking over her shoulder, as if to check if he was there, taking in her progress.

It was progress, but she still wasn't settling down. Just being a better roamer. Since she'd listened to him, taken what he'd said to heart, he had another go, waiting for her in a park that she walked through to work.

She noticed him and stopped, a look of pride mixed with annoyance on her face.

"What?" she asked. "You're still at it?"

"I have a feeling you'd be disappointed if I stopped following you."

The look on her face confirmed his assumption, but her words were as stubborn as ever. "What do you want?"

Honestly? He wanted to go home. He was tired and more than ready to go back to the people he loved. To his plans and his studies. The bad part was, he still wanted her to come with him.

"The question is, what do you want?"

She faltered for a moment, before her stubbornness took over. "I don't think that's any of your concern."

"Why aren't you dating?"

The question shocked her into silence for a few seconds. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we broke up more than a year ago. Why aren't you dating?"

"Do you want me to date someone else?" The shock of the conversation had taken all the annoyance out of her tone.

"I want to stop doing this. You know me. I'm obsessive and unhealthy, and until I get a clear answer, I can't give up."

She sat on the bench next to him, her hands in her lap. "Why are you still here? I've treated you like shit."

"I need an answer, Angie. I need to know that there's no hope." He needed to be set free.

She lifted her eyes to him, tears shining in them, reminding him of the Angie who'd said goodbye properly, not the one who'd left like a thief in the night.

"I don't date because I can't," she finally answered. "Because I haven't healed, and every time I so much as consider it, all I see is you. I don't know how to forget you."

Her words broke his heart in more ways than one. He didn't know how to forget her either, and he did his best not to.

"We can't go on like this," he whispered.

"I agree. After all that happened... Maybe you're too good for me."

He slid closer to her and placed his hand on her cheek. "I'm not. I never was. I am what I am."

She glanced at him, placed her own hand on his cheek. Then she closed her eyes, leaned over and kissed him. It only lasted a second before he pulled her against him and she climbed into his lap, curling around him.

It was just a kiss, but it made him feel more alive than he remembered. Euphoria coursed through him, reminding him of all the reasons he wasn't letting go. When she pulled away, the heat in the world was gone.

"How could I settle for anything less?" she asked.

"Then what are we doing?" Why weren't they kissing anymore?

"That's the problem." A pained expression filled her face as she stood from his lap. "I don't know. And I can't... I'm not ready to forget what happened."

"Forget? Angie, you don't have to forget, to push it under the rug. You can either accept it or not. Forgive or not."

"I don't want to accept it."

He stood and took her hands. "It's not a matter of want. You either can or can't."

She glanced at him with tears in her eyes and he saw the stubbornness set in. That was the problem. It was reality she was running from. And until she realized she couldn't, this was pointless.

So when she turned and walked away, he let her.

The next day, she'd been gone. He'd tracked her easily, but as he observed her new life, the confusion was beginning to turn into resent. What was she hoping for? Why couldn't she decide? No was a reasonable answer and anything was better than this limbo.

Sam's call, even if made for a terrible reason, had been just what he'd needed to break the habit. He'd rushed to Chicago without looking back.

"Wow," Sam said after listening to the story. "That's just..." He didn't finish, but he didn't have to.

Tom could tell from his tone that something had broken, that the friendship his twin had shared with Angie was all but gone.

"Yeah..." Tom said, leaning back. "So I don't want to do that anymore. I've chased her, caught her, let her go again, but she just can't own up to anything. I'm sure there's something still there, but it doesn't matter unless she acts on it. So I'm just going to focus on me for once. If she wants me, she knows where to find me."

"I'm so proud of you," Sam said, placing his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "And I think you're doing the right thing."

"You also think I never should've left."

Sam hesitated. "In the end, I think you needed it."

"I think so, too. But I also think I've gotten all I can from the experience."

"Agreed."

Tom let out a long breath. Yes, it felt right to settle down. Because even if he'd always been a wild soul, he'd found what he'd been looking for. The perfect place to grow and make a better man of himself. Together with his family.

"Any news on Jimmy?" he asked. "I mean I've been keeping in touch, but maybe you know more."

Sam shook his head, gritting his teeth. "All the progress of last month was lost once they changed the treatment again. They went back to the old one, but it's not doing it. Jessie is furious."

"Yeah, she told me so." Tom hummed, trying to keep his own excessive anger on the matter at bay. "I'd ask about everyone else, but I've actually kept close contact."

Kyle and Kay were ready to get married. All they needed was a healthy Jimmy. Jerry and Sarah were happily leaving together, nurturing their hobbies. He'd been the one on the move, and it was time to take his life back.

Without Angie. Part of him broke, but he was also very aware it had to be done. He'd shown her he was serious about her. It was her turn to do the same.

And if she didn't, maybe it was time to finally let go.

🏯🏯🏯

And here we are. Yes, I'm posting, so prepare for weekly updates. For now, I'm sticking to Thursday because I like Thor.

I know I still bashed at you with the feelings stick, but it had to happen. As it is, Sam got some semblance of closure. And Christine... What's up with that? She didn't even say much.

What about Tom and his wild adventure with Angie? Is there any hope for them? At least he's done with it. Whatever happens, happens. Will she come back on her own now? Well, you'll just have to wait and see.

Don't forget to vote if you enjoyed the story and maybe leave a comment. Feedback fuels me to write more and faster.