(no subject)

Entry tags:

! debut,
andrea

(no subject)

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. One thing Sam has been learning quickly, though, is that with a baby around, he needs to take whatever sleep he can while he can get it. It hasn't been as bad lately as it was during those first few months, but Jordan still keeps him awake as often as not, and while he's gotten somewhat used to running on less sleep than he was used to before, that doesn't make him any less exhausted. Occasionally, dozing off without intending to is just impossible to avoid. And sometimes, that just happens to be when he's sitting on the couch holding his daughter.

If Andrea weren't around, it would probably be more of a cause for concern. As it is, he knows can count on her to take Jordan if that becomes necessary, which is about as much considering it as he gets to do. When he wakes up, he isn't sure just how long it's been, if it's been minutes or hours, just that Jordan has started to cry, shifting in his arms and pulling him from his sleep. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he says, rocking her gently, voice soft, if rough. "It's —"

His sentence stops there, because suddenly, he isn't sure if it really is alright after all. They aren't on the couch in his and Andrea's hut anymore; they're moving, as the view outside the window serves as proof of, train tracks rattling underneath them. No wonder she's started fussing, he thinks. She's never been on a train before. He doesn't know why they are, though, or how they could have gotten here. Nothing he sees looks familiar, and he'd wonder if this is one of those weird island transformation things, except that a few of the people on the train have started looking at him like he must have just appeared out of nowhere, and it still doesn't make sense that he would have gone from being in his hut to being here. That isn't how this usually works.

It's more nerve-wracking than he'd care to admit, or than he's able to focus on. Before he lets himself freak out about it, he has to figure out what any of this is in the first place, and has to try to get Jordan calmed down. It isn't long before the train pulls into a station, at least, and that seems like a good place to start. Jordan's quieted some by the time he's stepped off the train, too, which is a relief. He doesn't want to have to ask someone for an explanation with a wailing infant in his arms. That relief gets quickly put to rest, though, by how cold it is, which he's more than unprepared for. "Oh, Jesus," he says, drawing in a sharp breath. He's been through a couple of winters on the island, but that's about it as far as his exposure to cold weather goes, and the t-shirt he'd been wearing around the hut really isn't going to cut it for this. Answers are still a top priority, but he'll have to do something about that, for himself and Jordan both. Nodding once to himself, he ducks his head to press a kiss to his daughter's hair, then starts forward. "It's gonna be okay, kiddo," he murmurs. "We're gonna figure this out."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Since having to pick up her own introductory package in Darrow, Andrea hasn't gone into the train station very often. It isn't entirely that she avoids it, although that's part of it, because the idea of greeting new arrivals isn't something that's ever appealed to her very much. People appear all over this city, but the majority of them still seem to come in on a train and so she just keeps her distance in general. Now and then she has to pass by, though, on her way to school or to work or when she's headed somewhere in particular, which she isn't today, and yet she finds herself passing by all the same.

Her classes are finished for the day, she has the evening off from work, she's thinking about stopping at the grocery store on her way home so she can have dinner ready for Clementine when she's done school, and she's so caught up in her thoughts that when she first sees him, she doesn't register it as strange.

They'd only gone out a few times, though she'd liked him a lot and for those first few months in Darrow, she'd found herself wishing he was here with her. But over time it's faded, she's moved on, and so has he, apparently, as she catches sight of a little girl in his arms. "Sam?" she asks as she comes closer, pushing through a small crowd to get to him. Maybe it's not him, maybe it's only someone who looks like him, but even in the short time they'd had together, she feels she'd gotten to know him pretty well.

It's more of a weight off his shoulders than Sam would care to admit. So far, when it's been only a few confusion-filled moments, he hasn't stopped to think any of this through yet, not wanting to jump to conclusions when this might not be such a big deal at all, something not worthy of panic. Deep down, though, he's known, or at least suspected, what this could mean. The last time he just appeared somewhere without warning like this, he was stepping out of his dad's old arcade and through a doorway on some island in the middle of nowhere, and it hasn't escaped his notice that, while Jordan's still in his arms, he hasn't seen Andrea anywhere. There was always a chance that he wouldn't.

At the sight of her, then, he lets out a breath that's almost a laugh, the corners of his mouth curling up into a slight smile. "Hey, there you are," he says. Confused or not, this can't be so bad, or really even so complicated, if she's right here, too. "I woke up and I didn't see you. What's going on?"

Edited 2014-03-18 22:55 (UTC)

The familiar way he speaks to her doesn't go unnoticed and Andrea pauses as she nears him, her gaze drifting over him, over the way he's dressed, the little girl in his arms and she stops a few steps away and sets her bag down on the ground. "Here," she says, taking her jacket off, offering it to him. It'll be snug and it's clearly a woman's jacket, but it's better than nothing. It's cool, but she's wearing a heavy enough sweater that she'll be okay until they can get something better for him.

Rachel had said something to her, that she'd still been on the island, and Andrea feels her heart rate picking up speed at the thought of it. It's obvious in the way he's speaking to her; Sam knows her better than she knows him.

"You're in a city called Darrow," she says, her voice cautious. "It's... sort of like the island in a lot of ways. We arrive here without much explanation, sometimes people disappear, too." She wonders if he notices the differences in her. Her hair is shorter, still barely brushing her shoulders, though it's tied back now. There's a scar on her neck that didn't used to be there, her tan is gone. "I've... I've been here for two years, Sam."

Sam takes the jacket, shifting Jordan in his arms so he can slide it on, but he isn't any less confused for not being so cold, his smile fading. What she's saying, the way she looks — still obviously Andrea, but different than she did not long ago, hanging out around the hut before he fell asleep — the things she's telling him, none of it makes any sense. They were just in the same room. Technically speaking, he knows from the island that's not always how it works, that timelines don't add up, that people seem to be in more than one place at the same time, but he can't process any of this yet, and it sure as hell doesn't offer him any clarity.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, brow furrowed, reaching out instinctively to brush his fingers against the scar along her neck, one he's never seen before. "I just saw you. What happened? Two years?" That's almost as long as he's been on the island in the first place. How she could have been here that long, what this place is at all, he doesn't know.

He had just seen her. He had fallen asleep and when he woke up, he had expected to see her again. Andrea's gaze shifts to the little girl in his arms and she's so busy staring at her, searching her face for familiar features that when Sam touches her, she doesn't even notice at first. "Almost two years," she repeats, her voice soft, and she's beginning to put things together in her head, things she doesn't think she wants to know.

Things she suddenly wishes Rachel would have told her and yet she can understand why she wouldn't have done so.

"I was on the island still, too, wasn't I?" she asks, looking back at Sam, her eyebrows pulled together, forehead creased. "Rachel's here, she said something, but I never thought... I never imagined..." But she can't bring herself to say it. The idea that she's had an entire life there she can't remember -- a life with Sam -- is both uncomfortable and kind of sad. Especially because he's here now and she doesn't remember any of it. The things he knows about the two of them have never happened for her.

Edited 2014-03-20 01:24 (UTC)

She looks different. She's been here, apparently, for almost two years. But more importantly, even more so than her question, one that he thinks should speak for itself, she's looking down at Jordan like the girl is a stranger. It makes no more sense than it did a few moments ago, but it hits Sam all at once, and feels like he's been punched in the gut. Andrea doesn't know their daughter. She remembers him, remembers the island, but if she doesn't know Jordan, then there's a hell of a lot more she won't remember, too — getting pregnant at all, the year or so they've been living together, everything else that's happened in that time. It's her, there's clearly no doubt about that, but she's not the same person.

Abruptly, he drops his hand again, cradling Jordan close against his chest. She's starting to stir again, and he really hopes another burst of crying isn't about to occur, but he's pretty sure she wants her mother, and there's nothing he can do about it when that isn't the woman standing in front of him. He can't hide how hurt he is by that fact, either, not least when he's so stunned by it, barely able to keep up with what he's being told. "You never imagined this," he says, an edge of bitterness in his voice that isn't aimed at her. "Jesus Christ." Then, as if it hadn't already been made obvious, he adds, "Yeah, you were still there."

There's hurt in his face and his voice both and Andrea looks down, at a complete loss for words. Her memories of Sam are good memories, the night of the party, getting high with him, feeling free of all that shit she'd left behind for the first time in a long time. Their first conversation when he'd found her with the crossbow, hunting in the trees. She remembers a few really wonderful dates, she remembers kissing him on the beach, unexpectedly attached to him after such a short period of time.

But that's all. Being taken away from him had stung, but it hadn't been like this. The expression on his face speaks of so much more than that.

"Is she..." She's not sure if she can ask the question and given everything she's been doing lately, trying to find out if she can pass along the virus, preparing herself to talk with Spike about what she wants, the idea that she has a daughter with Sam somewhere else causes her chest to tighten. "God, Sam, I'm so sorry."

"Is she yours?" Sam asks, filling in the blank for her, then can't help himself, letting out a short, dark laugh. It isn't funny in the slightest, but he doesn't know what else to do, the very idea of her having to ask too absurd for words, and not just because he suspects that she won't really need an answer. It's the kind of thing that speaks for itself, when it isn't exactly as if he's made any kind of effort to pretend like this is any less hard on him. Even if he had, he has a feeling it wouldn't have done much good. This is his whole life that's just been upended, and it's that much worse for knowing there's no one and nothing to blame. Neither of them chose this. Then again, that's never made any losses easier before, and it doesn't change the fact that, in a way, this Andrea left a long time ago. Everyone always does.

Swallowing hard, he nods, because he might as well just come out with it. There's no sense in her not knowing. This gives them both a difficult truth to share. "Yeah, she's yours," he says. "She'll be three months in a few days. We named her Jordan Amy. For my mom and your sister."

It doesn't really come as a surprise and yet it still feels as though she's been hit by a brick. The name first, because she hears Amy's name and she hears the reasoning why and though she hadn't doubted him before, there's certainly no doubt at all in her mind now. She doesn't talk about Amy with everyone, not in such great detail, not to the point of naming a child after her. For a moment, it's a struggle to breathe. Sam's lost so much in this transition, but for a second Andrea is angry at this place for taking it away from her, too. She's wanted to be a mother for so long and now she is, only it's another version of her, a woman who still exists on an island somewhere. A woman who possibly just lost the two people she loves most in the world.

"That's a good name," she says finally, her voice hoarse. More than anything, she wishes she could do something to make this easier for him. He's a good man, she knows that, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve another person being taken away from him.

"I can help you both get settled," she continues after a moment. "I know this is a lot to take in and I know... this is an especially shitty circumstance." She wants to help, but she isn't sure how, she only knows she isn't going to leave Sam standing alone in this city and let him deal with what's happened by himself. She isn't sure how much he'll want her around, but her gaze keeps straying to Jordan and she can't deny there's a desire to see things done right by this little girl. "I'll do whatever I can."

Sam wonders if maybe he should find it comforting, how apparent it is that this isn't easy for her, either. It isn't that he'd ever wish her ill, or like he would want her to have to deal with this any more than he wants to deal with it himself, but the only thing that could possibly make this worse is having it seemingly shrugged off, or Andrea not believing him. True as that might be, though, if there should be solace in it, there's none he can find, and not just because he's having a hell of a time trying to think past his own emotional response to this. Sure, he might not be alone in having this be so hard, but that doesn't change any of the facts. He's still lost most of the people he cares about in one fell swoop. His daughter's still lost her mother, just like he did when he wasn't that much older than Jordan is now. And he's still got to figure this out for himself.

It's tempting, painfully so, to tell her not to bother, that he can find his footing and get settled without her help. He thinks he might actually be better off that way, no matter how confused he still is by what's happened. Just looking at her hurts too much, when she's Andrea, but she's someone else entirely. That's all the more reason, though, why he can't. It's a little like trying to hold on to something he's already lost. Besides, practically speaking, he's got her jacket, and he'd rather not have to track her down to give it back to her later. "I don't even know where to start," he says. "I just need to figure out what all of this is and what to do here."

"It's a little easier than the island in some ways," she says, her voice gentle and although she tries to hold Sam's gaze, she keeps looking back to Jordan, searching her features for similarities. She's quiet for now, though Andrea doesn't know how long that might last, and she feels something painful seize in her chest with the knowledge that she'll want her mother at some point. It's worse, knowing she's both here and she's not. She's the right person, but without any of the memories or experiences Sam and his -- their? -- daughter will be looking for.

"We're supplied with a bank account and some money to start off with," she continues, trying not to get distracted. It's difficult, though, her thoughts moving at what feels like light speed, because she has no idea what to do in this situation, what might be expected of her or what might be considered too much. They'll have to talk again, she realizes, but not now, not while everything is still so new. "Come back inside the train station, there's probably a package waiting for you at the information booth. It'll have everything you need. Keys for an apartment, too."

She tries to smile then. "No more huts."

Sam raises his eyebrows, an expression that might seem vaguely impressed if he could spare the presence of mind to try to push everything else aside. Hell, he might be a little relieved for it, as well, if he hadn't just lost too much to find it in him to be appreciative. It's a good thing, he knows, not to have to start from scratch here, in a place that sounds a lot more like a world he'd be familiar with than the island was, especially when he has Jordan to look out for, but he'd rather not have to deal with it at all. Right now, there's nothing he wants more than to wake up on the couch in their hut on the island, all of this the product of some fucked up dream. He isn't stupid, though. He's been through this too many times to hold out hope for something that implausible.

"Money, an apartment — it's like they're trying to make you think that they haven't screwed you over," he says wryly, glancing over at the train station again. "Guess there's no point not getting started on all that, though." Mouth pressed into a tight frown, he falls silent for a moment, then lets out a heavy breath. Even though he knows already what the answer will be, there's something else he has to ask her, too, just to have confirmation, the one thing that makes all of this even worse. "You haven't seen... My dad's not here, too, is he?"

She hasn't thought about Flynn in a very long time and she smiles a little, even as she shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I mean, it's a big city, there are a lot more people here than there were on the island, but I've never run into him."

And it seems weird, but people from elsewhere, from the island or some other city, they seem to find each other. It's hard not to bond when they're considered the outsiders.

She opens the door of the train station, holding it for Sam to go in ahead of her and she looks at Jordan again, searching her face. She's a beautiful little girl and Andrea's angry all over again, angry on Sam's behalf and on Jordan's behalf and on her own, though she tries to shake it away. It won't do any of them any good right now.

"This place is different, though, too," she says. "It can be more dangerous in a lot of ways. Monsters aren't impossible here."

It isn't surprising in the slightest. Sam knows from experience that that sort of thing would be too much to hope for, the odds of getting his dad back in a place like this too slim to count for anything. He should be grateful, really, that they had any time together at all, when just the fact that they were both on the island was so unlikely. Maybe later, he will be. For the time being, it's just one more reason to be resentful, one more loss to deal with in a long, long line of them, and made that much worse by what's come along with it. He's lost his dad, Jordan's lost her mom; there's something particularly cruel about that, never mind whatever's brought him face to face with a girlfriend who doesn't remember their relationship.

"Monsters," he repeats, not quite as bothered by that as he should be, though he holds Jordan a little closer for it, as if to protect her from what isn't even here. "Great. What sort of things are we talking about here?"

He'd like for the turn of conversation to prove distracting, but there's no way it will be. Just being around Andrea, trying to talk to her casually when he can't stop turning over things that have happened that she won't know about, is too much for that, more than he's capable of just shrugging off. Nothing else seems half as important, except maybe getting to this information desk so he can go about figuring out what the hell to do here.

"Not my kind," she says as she leads him toward the information booth. At least not yet and she hopes that never changes, because that sort of infection will spread, there's no containing it and Andrea doesn't want anything like that anywhere near the life she has now. No one in Darrow deserves that sort of thing to happen to them. She thinks briefly of all the people she's met, the friends she's made, and while vampires and other weird things that go bump in the night are bad, at least they can be avoided. The walking dead would be everywhere.

"Different kinds of vampires. The regular people kind of monsters," she admits. "There are probably other things out there, but I don't do a lot of hunting them down." Not anymore, anyway. She wants this city to be safe for Clementine, for all the kids out there, but after Patrick, she knows the best thing she can do for Clementine is to keep herself safe, too. She glances at Sam, wondering when she has to tell him all that, that she lives with someone, that they're taking care of a child.

When they reach the information booth, she leans over the edge and searches for the envelope, then spots one with Sam's name on it. She takes it from the booth, then turns to face him again, holding it toward him, though she knows he won't be able to open it while holding Jordan. "Do you want me to open it or do you want me to..." She's not sure if he'll want her to touch Jordan, but she can't not offer.

They aren't her kind of monsters, she says, but Sam thinks about when they'd woken up in Alexandria anyway, wonders if she remembers even that or if it's one more thing that happened too late for her to know about. It's probably lucky that she knows him at all, though he has trouble really feeling like that's true. As far as he can tell, this might have been easier if she didn't, if she'd looked at him without any recognition just like she did Jordan. Maybe he'd have been more able to cut ties that way, instead of hanging on to her every word as if, any second now, this might all prove to be wrong. He'd like to shut down, but it's never been that easy. And no matter how visibly different she looks, it's all but impossible to wrap his head around, the idea of her not being aware of so, so much. He can tell her the facts, but there's only so much that could do. He loves her and he's lost her, just like everyone else in his life with whom that's been the case.

"No, it's fine. You can go ahead," he says, nodding to the envelope in her hands. It's not that he doesn't trust her, or wouldn't want her holding Jordan; he's just, with all that's happening, reluctant to let go of her. He's all she's got now. The same is true in reverse, too. If this had to happen at all, at least he has Jordan with him. If he'd lost her and Andrea and his dad at once, he doesn't know what he would have done, and he wouldn't have wanted his daughter to grow up having been abandoned by her father like he was. "Uh... thanks for your help."

Andrea's looking down at the envelope when he thanks her, in the middle of opening it, and she pauses, looking up at him. "Sam, of course." There's no way to say what she wants to say without it sounding awful, because there's so much she doesn't remember of a life he's had and she feels strangely guilty about that. But at the same time she wants him to understand that she cares. Whatever she may have missed, she knows there's nothing that can make up for that, but she can't just leave him here either. It would be cruel and she can't do that to him.

Telling him that she'd waited for him, that she'd hoped he would arrive for months after her own arrival isn't going to help anything. She thinks it might only make him feel worse and she doesn't want that, so she only offers him a smile, then returns to opening his envelope.

"You're in the Bramford Building," she says, glancing at the card. "I think you're on the top floor. I know where it is, I can show you or give you directions. It's a couple of blocks from the Gun Club, which is where I work." It's more than just a couple of blocks away, but she knows the general area well enough after spending so much time there and she thinks she can take him there without getting lost.

Sam isn't sure how there's any of course about it, though as soon as he's thought that, he feels guilty for it. She's still Andrea. Thinking about it like that just seems too complicated, too ultimately painful. Cutting ties would be a hell of a lot easier if there were nothing here at all, even if she were just someone else entirely who closely resembled Andrea, the way he knows things happened on the island sometime. Instead, she's still the woman he fell in love with; she just doesn't remember it. For all the people he's lost in any number of different ways, he doesn't think there's been anything quite as cruel as this.

"That would be great," he says with a small, halfhearted smile and a nod. Much as he'd like to fend for himself, she is the one who knows her way around here, and he can't turn down the help out of pure stubbornness when he has Jordan to look out for, too. "So, a gun club, huh?" He'd be lying if he said he was surprised, but he can't bring himself to say so. It's overly familiar, territory he doesn't know how to veer into yet.

"It's not close, it's probably better for her if we take a cab," she says, looking down at Jordan briefly. It's a strange, complicated position to be in, because she would have no problem making easy suggestions like this to another friend with a baby, but because of what she knows she feels strange. Like maybe she shouldn't presume to say anything to him about his daughter; or is she their daughter? She's not sure, she doesn't know how to think of this situation and she knows it's going to take a lot of time on both their parts to get a better grasp on what's happened.

At his comment about the gun club, she smiles a little and nods, leading him back toward the door. "Yeah, I'm sure that doesn't come as much of a surprise." The first time they'd met, she'd been shooting. She'd always intended on teaching him, too, taking him out into the jungle with the crossbow Zhuge had made her. She wonders if she ever did.

"I upgraded to a more modern crossbow when I got here," she says, wondering if he remembers the weapon she used on the island. "But it's not as good as the one Zhuge made."

Edited 2014-03-25 18:37 (UTC)

"That was a good one," Sam says, as close as he'll get to wistful, though it's hardly as if he's an expert on weaponry. She taught him well how to use one, but he doubts he would have known one from another. She would, though, of course, that sort of thing as unsurprising as the fact that she's working at a gun club. He remembers how excited she'd been to find tools to make her own ammunition, how handy she's been with any sort of weapon any time he's seen her use one. It ought to be a good fit for her. "But yeah, definitely not surprising."

However little she might remember of the two of them, at least she knows that he'd know that. Then again, that's not really saying all that much. "A cab would be good. She's not used to weather this cold, either. And you said there'd be some money in there, right?"

"Yeah, but it's just a bit to start on," she says, raising her hand to wave down a cab. "There's a bank card, too, and you'll get some money put in the account every month. It's enough for one person to live on if you're careful, but it's nothing spectacular." And as she well knows, with a child to look after, too, there needs to be more of an income. Clementine gets her money as well, but Andrea refuses to use that for basic needs.

A cab pulls up to the curb and Andrea opens the door for Sam to get in in front of her. She realizes she could just give the address to the driver and send Sam and Jordan on their way, but when she considers it, she finds she can't actually go through with it. She feels responsible now, she can't leave him to find his way through Darrow alone.

"I don't know how it'll work for Jordan, but you should have an ID card in there. Her money will probably be paid into your account."

It's weird thing to imagine. Not in any kind of noteworthy way at all when compared to the rest of this, but still, the idea of having some kind of monthly stipend and still having to be careful is one that Sam has trouble wrapping his head around. Before the island, where money didn't come into play at all, it was never anything he had to worry about. His dad had left enough behind to ensure that money wouldn't have been a concern for him, that the two years he did at Caltech would be covered, his rent and food and gas for his motorcycle paid for without him having to get a job or anything like that. It's just one more thing that's going to be different here. For all that it might be more of a lifestyle adjustment, though, it pales in comparison to the rest of this.

"Should be enough to cover the cab, then, at least," he says once he's gotten inside, careful not to jostle Jordan too much as he fastens his seatbelt. On his own, he wouldn't have even thought to. Having a kid, though, it changes everything, just like his dad told him when he first gave him the news of Andrea being pregnant. It stings, thinking about how far away that feels now; he presses on so he won't have to dwell on it. "And to let me get some things for her."

"I'll get the cab," she says, not because she thinks he needs the help, but because she's probably going to take it home once she's done helping him get settled. Or maybe she'll take it to a coffee shop, somewhere she can sit and think for awhile before she has to go home and explain to Spike and Clementine what's happened. The problem with trying to explain this situation, though, is that she's not entirely sure what is happening. All she knows is that Sam is hurt and there's a little girl who's without her mother in a way.

She wonders if Jordan looks at her face and recognizes her. If she's going to reach for her at some point or cry for her. She's not her mother, she understands that, but at the same time she knows Jordan won't understand that. Maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe Andrea can still be there for her somehow. She gives the address to the driver, then settles back against the seat, buckling the seatbelt.

"When I first got here, I met this girl named Clementine," she says and she's not sure why she's telling him right now, only that she feels he deserves to know. "She's from the same world I am, she knows some of the people I was with back there. Glenn mostly." She doesn't know if she's ever mentioned Glenn to Sam, but she thinks the other version of her must have. If they've had a baby, they've talked about names. She might have suggested Glenn for a boy. "She lives with me now."

"Yeah, I met Glenn," Sam says before he can think twice about it, realizing a moment later that she might not remember that, either. It was months before she got pregnant that they woke up back in Alexandria, but he barely knows what he's working with here, when she knows him but not Jordan, whether it's just one night or if it's several, if she was upset showing up here without him just like he is being without her. Even then, though, it's not like they planned for this, not like they did things in the right order or like he ever got around to proposing, though it's something he's thought about. When their whole relationship was backwards, what difference should it have made? "We, uh... We wound up in Alexandria once, for a few days. I don't know if you remember that."

But that's not the point either, really, something he has to remind himself of when he runs the risk of trying to turn everything that happened between them over in his head, still wondering what she knows and what she doesn't. "That's good, though. That you took that girl in." She's great with kids, as he already knows. He also knows how hard that must have been for her, remembers what she told him after finding out she was pregnant and the body she found off the boardwalk one day. Since she won't know that he knows that, though, he decides against mentioning it. There's enough at hand to deal with without him risking upsetting her.

"Alexandria," she echoes, surprised. The cab begins to drive through the streets of Darrow and Andrea sits back, wondering what she's supposed to say, if she should tell Sam what she remembers and what she doesn't. "Jesus, that must have been... well, interesting." Spike has seen bits of her world, too, and she wonders if that's just something that happens, if people just get to take home their loved ones even for a few days, even if only just for a moment.

"We'd gone on a few dates when I got here," she tells him suddenly. It's not fair for him to have to deal with all of this and not be entirely sure where he stands or what she might know. "I remember the party and I remember taking the canoe out. I remember asking you to come to Raylan and Rachel's wedding with me." There's obviously so much more history that's happened since then, so much that she's missed and she feels strangely guilty over it, as though she has any control over it whatsoever. When she looks at him and his daughter, she knows they're both missing someone and it's not the same person she is now, no matter how much she wishes otherwise, if only for the two of them.

"Interesting's one word for it," Sam says wryly. He isn't sure it's the one he'd use, but even that, he thinks, he'd take over this. At least the two of them had been together, his dad there, too. It wouldn't have been a great life, but it would have been bearable. Of course, he'd have never wanted to raise a kid in an environment like that, and he can't imagine willing Jordan into nonexistence, but for all that it had been harrowing, it was nothing he couldn't deal with. This feels like a different story.

Even listening to Andrea talk about the things she does remember, though it's good to have some clarity on that front, is painfully difficult. There's so much else, and while some of it is obvious, it's not like it would make any difference, not a case of just jogging her memory or some shit like that. Any response he could give gets cut off by Jordan, anyway, a whine in her throat and little eyes filling with tears. All he can do is hope that he can keep her calm until they're out of the cab, even if he suspects that's the source of her distress. "Shh, hey, it's okay," he says quietly, attention briefly turned away from Andrea, until he glances up to offer an explanation. "She's never been in a car before."

"It's fine," she says, reaching out without thought, her hand passing softly over the top of Jordan's head. It doesn't occur to her until she's already done it that maybe Sam doesn't want her to and she pulls back, looking at him hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

It's so confusing, even for her, and she knows it has to be so much worse for Sam. She's never had a daughter, but she's always loved kids and it's in her nature to reach out, to try and help. At the same time, she has no idea what might be allowed, what Sam might want of her or what he might desperately want to avoid. She doesn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"It won't be much further," she says, settling back in her seat again. "Just a few minutes. The city is a hell of a lot bigger than the island, but it's not as big as it could be. Easy to navigate, too."

Instinctively, Sam wants to tell her not to apologize, but he's too startled, at first, for any words to come. The way she reaches out just seems so natural, and whatever differences there might be in her appearance, it feels so much like before that he can hardly stand it. Even so, it's not like he wants to make a point of keeping Jordan from her. That wouldn't be right, not when he knows what it's like to grow up not having a mother. It's just that he can't expect anything, can't ask her for anything. She has a life here. He might not know much about it, but if she's been here for almost two years, then there's no way he doesn't, and both he and their daughter aren't a part of that.

"It's, uh — it's fine," he finally manages, shaking his head, though he seems too put off to really be that convincing. "That's good, though. I have to say, I kind of missed living in a city." It doesn't mean anything. There's nothing in the world he would have traded his life on the island for.

Andrea nods, looking down at her lap briefly before she forces her gaze back up to Sam. She's not the one who's lost everything here and yet she still feels like something is suddenly missing. There's this entire life she's had that she doesn't even know about and it's so selfish of her, but it does feel a little like she's lost something, too. Or had something taken away from her or denied her in some way. It isn't a fair thought at all, she's been given so much in Darrow and she's very happy here, but the feeling is there all the same.

"There are a lot more opportunities here, that much is certain," she says and she's thinking of both Sam and Jordan. She remembers sitting on the beach with him, having him tell her about the life he was supposed to have, the business he was supposed to take over. Even then, she'd been able to see just how much he was capable of and on the island it would have been wasted. He might have been happy and she's sorry he's had so much taken from him, but she also knows he's capable of big things. He can do that here, he has that chance. "I'm back in school to finish my law degree. If everything goes well, I'll be able to practice by this time next year. There's... it's very different from the island."

"Wow," Sam says, brow raising, before his expression softens a little. "That's great. I'm happy for you." He means it, but he doesn't feel it, a fact that's clear in the way he sounds. Happiness barely begin to figure into any of this. No matter how pleased for her he might be that she'll finish law school here, actually get to practice, in a place where it seems like a degree and a job like that will do a hell of a lot more good than they ever did on the island, he can't yet get past the cost. He'd rather be with her back there. Still, this is her life, even if it isn't his, and no matter what world they're in or what memories she has, he'd never want anything but the best for her. Maybe that's what makes this so goddamn difficult. "Guess I'll have to figure out something I can do. That's a first."

"You'll figure something out. I know you will," she says and she manages a soft smile as the cab pulls up to an unfamiliar building. It looks a lot different than the one she lives in -- older, with more character -- and she peers up at from inside the cab.

"You should have keys in that envelope, too," she tells him. "I don't know if you want me to come up with you, but I can, I... it's up to you." The only thing she's sure of right now is that she needs to tread lightly, take care with what she says and what she does. Everything else, what she needs, what she wants, what Sam wants and what Jordan might need, it's all a complicated, confusing blur. For now all she knows is that she needs to be careful.

"I don't want to keep you," Sam says, just a beat too quickly to seem like that's all there is to it. The truth of the matter is, he's not sure he can stand it, and though he thinks a lot changed in his time on the island, the months he had with Andrea and his dad around, in the face of something like this, he can't help falling into old habits. He isn't sure he should ever have broken them in the first place, shutting people out and keeping them at a distance having worked pretty well for him before now, except that if he hadn't, Jordan would never have been born. No matter what he's lost in the process, he can't imagine willing her into nonexistence. "But thanks. For your help."

"Of course," she says with a nod, her gaze drifting from Sam to Jordan then back again. She hesitates for a moment, then reaches into her bag and tears a piece of paper out of one of her notebook. There's a pen just under her books and she gropes for it for a second, then jots her number down on the paper and offers it to Sam. "If you need anything, just call me, okay? Even if you just have questions about this place or... anything."

She doesn't know if he'll actually call her, but she hopes he will. They both need time to make sense of what's happened, to figure out where they stand, but she wants to be able to help him as much as she can. And Jordan, too. She might not remember carrying her and giving birth, but if Sam says she's her mother, then Andrea knows the last thing in the world she'll be able to do is pretend otherwise.

Sam frowns down at the paper for a moment like it's written in another language instead of numbers that he's familiar with. For as much as he understands this, it might as well be. But then, he guesses there's no protocol for something like this, no way of being able to tell what a person is and isn't supposed to do, and no matter how easy — or at least how much easier — it would be to turn away and shut her out, he remembers too well what it was like to grow up without a mother. He can't decide for Jordan that she's going to have to, too, can't just tell Andrea that she doesn't get to be a part of her life if she wants to be. Right now is far too soon for any of that, but he folds the paper and sticks it in the pocket of his jeans, nodding once. "Alright," he says. "I'll do that."

She isn't sure what to say now; goodbye sounds as if she'll never see him again and see you soon seems too presumptuous. Suddenly, though, she needs to be away from him, she needs to go somewhere and think for a long time before going home and telling Spike what's happened. There's so much to explain and so little of it she understands, but she knows it's no easier for Sam. That it's worse for him, that he's lost something she's never even known.

"Good luck," she settles on saying, giving him a gentle smile.

Her heart is beating hard and fast again, her hands trembling against her thighs where they rest. She needs to find a place to be alone for a little while.

Edited 2014-04-06 14:55 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only