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Another Sam/Deena prompt to write out your emotions-Doubt
Thank you because I really have so many emotions and I need all the help I can get.
Itâs not like sheâs hiding from Ms. Fraser or anything. Itâs more like sheâs justâŚwaiting. Biding her time. Totally different.
Thereâs a stupid and stupidly expensive gift shop teddy bear in her hands and Deena nearly strangles the life out of it when she finally sees Ms. Fraser leave the hospital room that Deena has been lurking outside of for so long the nurses on the floor have stopped glancing in her direction. Thankfully, Ms. Fraser also fails to glance in her direction, disappearing down the hallway and out of sight with a clicking of her heels and Deena exhales, her grip loosening on the unfortunate bearâs neck. She has no idea how long the room is going to be empty, how long she has before Ms. Fraser returns and sees her and does God only knows what, but still Deena finds herself rooted in place, unable to step closer to the hospital room.
It's ridiculous, the hesitation that creeps over her, sinking its claws into her muscles and making them useless. All sheâs wanted for hours -nearly twenty four of them, but whoâs keeping track- is to be in that room. And now Deena canât bring herself to take even the first step in that direction. Because what ifâŚwhat ifâŚwhat if.
Thereâs a distinct possibility that sheâll just sit outside in the hallway until Ms. Fraser returns and sees her and makes the decision for her and itâs that idea, the idea of being banished and turned away, that finally makes Deena stand. The stitches in her side protest the sudden movement, tugging against the fabric of her shirt with every step but Deena presses on, undeterred now that sheâs in progress, that she finally has one foot moving in front of the other.
The hospital room smells exactly like the one Deena had sat in yesterday, perched on the edge of an examination table and waiting for the nurse to return with the needle and thread to put her back together. It smells exactly like the one that Josh had been in, wobbly from painkillers and sporting a cast in the most annoying and garishly ugly color possible and when Deena had finally seen it, seen him, sheâd teased him about it until their laughter had suddenly turned to something else and sheâd had tears tracking their way through the grim and sweat and blood on her cheeks. And it smells exactly like the hallway Deena has been waiting in for the past few hours, and the one where sheâd met Ziggy and Martin yesterday, stunned to see them hanging around and waiting for her and Josh to be discharged.
And it smells like the room sheâd walked into a few days before and seen Sam, fragile and pale and small, propped against a mountain of pillows that seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright. Itâs a little bit like how Sam looks now, except this is almost worse than that, because this Sam now has cords and wires connecting her to an impressive array of machines on other side of the bed and a bandage against the side of her face about the same color as her skin. With her eyes closed and her hands settled across her stomach, Sam looks exactly as she had there on the floor of the supermarket, lips parted but still, skin already growing clammy and cold beneath Deenaâs hands.
The sight is startling and it makes Deena want to run to her, to shake her awake, to press a hand to her chest until she can feel the beating of Samâs heart beneath it.
Or, worse, it makes her want to turn around and run and never stop, until she gets somewhere the panic and fear and desperation canât follow.
Deena forces herself to take a step forward and it seems like a terrible idea to wake Sam, when she so clearly needs all the rest she can get, but the shuddery breath that passes through Deenaâs clenched teeth is enough to do that anyway. Samâs eyes flutter and she squints against the blare of the fluorescents overhead and when she turns her head in Deenaâs direction, the relief that crosses her features is enough to make Deena regret ever having considered leaving.
âDeena.â
âHey.â She steps closer, tentative and cautious, like Sam is the dangerous one when Deena knows full well that isnât the case. âIâŚbrought you this.â She holds up the teddy bear, which is looking more and more pathetic by the second, and she crinkles her nose. âItâsâŚdumb.â
âNo,â Sam says and thereâs a smile at the corner of her lips and she holds out a hand and Deena can still see the marks around her wrist, the raw red impression of the plastic bindings. âLet me see.â
Deena hands over the bear, trying not to stare at Samâs wrists, at the proof of what sheâs done, watching instead as Samâs faint smile seems to grow as she brushes her fingers lightly against the bearâs fur, the button eyes, the stupid red ribbon. âThank you.â She looks up, eyes finding Deena again. âI was wondering if you were going toâŚstop by.â
Thereâs a question in Samâs words, in her tone, that Deena couldnât possibly miss, even though she can tell that Sam is trying not to ask it. It would be easy to assure Sam that sheâs been desperate, wild, to get here ever since confusion had descended upon Sunnyvale and a pair of briskly efficient EMTs had whisked Sam away in an ambulance and out of sight. That every second without being able to reassure herself that Sam was fine and here and stable had been making her nearly crazy. But thereâs enough doubt, enough weight crowding its way through Deenaâs chest, that she canât bring herself to say the words, to admit to the panic that has made her nearly feral over the past twenty-four hours.
So, she says the only other truth that she knows, the other part of it that has been turning over in her mind, making it hard to breathe, to sleep, to think. âIâŚwasnât sure you wanted to see me.â
Sam looks at her like Deena is a perfect stranger, almost like sheâd looked at her that night when Deena had broken up with her, lie after lie twisting itself out of her mouth with a startling efficiency. And itâs enough to twist Deenaâs heart up now, just like it had been then, enough to lend truth to the worry that has been crushing the breath from her for hours. âWhy wouldnât I want to see you?â
Deena swallows and it would be easier to look somewhere other than Sam, except everywhere else thereâs a reminder of where they are and how they got there. âIâŚâ Deena gestures toward her, the wires and machines, the bandage and the bruises. âThis is my fault.â
The words are soft, as loud as she can make them around the panic threatening its way inside her once more, full of the reassurances that this is her fault. That voice in her head, the one that never hesitates to point out all the worst parts of her, is reminding her of the way it had felt to press a hand to the back of Samâs head and force her beneath the water and to fit her hand to that spot again and force Samâs head against the unyielding rocky floor beneath the Shadyside Mall, how easily Samâs body had seemed to give way against the stone.
Sam exhales, closing her eyes and letting her head rest back against the pillows. âYou knowâŚthis whole time Iâve been sitting here thinking that you didnât want to see me because you blamed me for what happened. That you thought that IâŚthat thisâŚthat it was my fault and-â
âSam.â Deena shakes her head, closing the distance between them without even thinking about it, and the incredulity that sheâd seen in Samâs face moments earlier seems a lot easier to understand now. âNone of what happened was your fault.â
Sam opens her eyes, lifting her eyebrows. âBut it was yours?â
Deenaâs fingers shake slightly as she reaches out to brush Samâs hair back from her face, brushing against the bandage there on the side of her face, proof. âI did that.â
âI tried to kill you.â
âThat wasnât you.â
âWell you only did what you had to do. I was-â
âBut it wasnât your fault, you-â
Sam reaches for Deenaâs hand, twining their fingers together. âThis is kinda stupid, isnât it?â
Impossibly, Deena wants to smile. She does, can feel it tugging up the corners of her lips the way the stitches on her side tug at the skin as she shifts, moving closer toward the bed. âKinda, yeah,â she admits. âIâŚIâm sorry I didnât come sooner. I wanted toâŚbut I wasnât sureâŚâ
Sam shakes her head, just once, before she seems to reconsider the gesture. Instead, she just gives Deenaâs hand a faint squeeze. âBut youâre going to stay, right?â
âYeah.â Deena doesnât even have to think about the answer, doesnât need time to consider it. Itâs the question sheâs always wanted to be asked, the one sheâs wanted to ask in turn, and it feels good to have the answer now, to know it. âI mean, if you think your mom isnât going toâŚâ
Sam grimaces, sighing. âSomehow my mom is a lot less scary now,â she mumbles. âBesides, I want you here.â
Really, what more could Deena ask for?
The hospital bed isnât built for two, but they make it work anyway, and with Samâs head on her shoulder and an arm draped gently across her stomach, Deena knows there isnât anywhere else for her to be.
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Heroes arenât always the ones who win. Theyâre the ones who lose, sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They donât give up. Thatâs what makes them heroes.Â
indie private & exclusive CLARY FAIRCHILD of The Shadowhunter Chronicles. penned by Monroe. fandom familiarity not required. significant verses for Star Wars & The Old Guard. multiple other au & fandom verses / extremely crossover friendly. mobile rules & verses found in blog header. ŠÂ