Post by Lacey on May 3, 2010 19:46:19 GMT -5
Valentine was late. Very late. But he'd had an important customer and couldn't get free no matter what he tried. He glanced at his watch as he darted around the throng of people milling down the sidewalk, most of them tourists gazing wide eyed at the neon bedecked buildings advertising every possible sort of pleasure fulfillment available. For once ignoring the stares and smartassed comments directed towards him and his shocking pink hair, he finally reached the building Samson was working at. They'd made plans to meet up during Sam's tea break to talk some more about pooling their money to get off the station. They'd talked about it briefly the night before, but Val had an early shift and had needed to go before they could really make any plans.
Hoping he wasn't too late, he ducked inside the tea shop, his electric blue gaze scanning the tables, looking for one particular person, the one person besides his mother he knew the best, could depend on no matter what, his best friend, Sammy. He finally spotted him at a corner table with the irritated look he seemed to wear whenever he was in public firmly plastered on his face, the reason for it probably being the offended looking man that was stalking away. Shaking his head, he tried to catch his breath as he walked towards Sam, watching him sip at his tea and glare at the retreating customer.
He was still half way across the room when he saw Sam set his teacup down hard enough that some sloshed over the side, a dazed look filling those deep brown eyes as his hands grabbed the edge of the table.
A quarter of the way, dodging around waiters and customers, when Sam, unnaturally pale, eyes wide, turned toward him, mouthed his name, "Valley...".
He was running when Sam fell sideways out of his chair, collapsing to the floor, dragging the table cloth with him, cup and saucer crashing to the floor, but all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and someone yelling. Wait, that was him, he was calling Sam's name, begging someone to call the medics.
The rest was a blur, people crowding close as he knelt next to his Sammy, cradling his head on his lap as his fingers monitored his pulse, so fluttery and weak. Watched as water splashed down on his hand from somewhere...oh wait, those were tears, he was crying. Stood back as the medics checked him over and loaded him into the ambulance, riding along, listening to the siren, holding tight to his best friend's limp hand. A sliding door that wouldn't open for him, no matter how hard he pounded the plexi, a nurse or maybe doctor, he couldn't see clearly enough to tell anymore, shaking her head, telling him he wan't allowed, he wasn't family. Wasn't family?! Sammy was his family, closer than a brother, didn't they understand? A uniformed man, pulling him away, over to a chair, forcing him to sit, more words, threats, the only thing that made it through the screaming in his head was the fact that they'd make him leave the building if he didn't settle down. So he settled, at least while he was there, somebody might tell him something...anything.
Time slowed after that moment. He watched in a daze as people passed by him, lucky family members that got to be with their loved ones...loved ones... Was that what that hole in is chest meant? He couldn't bear to dwell on the thought and instead turned over the moment of his arrival to the tea shop again and again. If he'd only been on time. If he could have gotten there just a couple minutes sooner, maybe they'd be back at one of their apartments, settled on the couch, making plans...plans to escape this place. Maybe... if only... The tears started falling again...
A hand shook him back to awareness. He wasn't sure that he had slept, he didn't remember dreams, or surely they would have been nightmares. Blinking up at the woman in front of him, the owner of the hand shaking him, he realized it was Sammy's aunt, she was talking... he could go back now, his Sammy was stable, he could visit, but only for a few minutes.
Staring down at the hospital bed and the person who rested under the thin sheet, he shook his head in disbelief, taking the still limp hand in his own. He felt a chair bump against the back of his legs and he sat automatically, his attention focused on his friend, his Sammy, looking so unlike his normal strong self. Listening to the monitors beep, the aunt speak of toxins, a drug overdose, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as the closest person to him in the world struggled to breathe, anger flowed through him, filling him with heat...with resolve.
It was days before Sam was able to go home, during which Val was only able to visit for mere minutes at a time. After spending almost every free moment with each other since they were children, he had been forced away when his friend had needed him most. His friend who had stood as his protector time after time, and he was left helpless to assist him. Well, maybe not so helpless.
************************************************
It had taken some work, some coaxing and pleading to get a peek at the tape from the day of Sam's...accident. That's what everyone else was calling it, a drug overdose, not so surprising on a space station that catered to pleasure. He and Sam knew the truth. It took even more time, tracking the culprit down.
He'd never forget that day. It was afternoon, he was dressed to kill, skin tight pants and a silver mesh shirt, a little eyeliner that made him look even more exotic than normal. He'd ignored everyone as he made his way through the tea house, the catcalls, the suggestions, the unavoidable random groping, his focus on one man and one man alone seated at a table by himself. He flowed into the unoccupied chair, flirted, made a suggestion...a place where they could be alone for a few minutes...gestured for the man to follow him. The teahouse staff turned a blind eye as Sam's friend led the man out the side door to the alley. The man followed eagerly, his eyes glued to Val's swaying ass...which was too bad.
He never stood a chance as the door slammed shut behind him, locking automatically, never saw the right hook that seemed to come from nowhere, knocking him out cold. The only thing Val regretted, and he was sure his Sammy did too, was that the bastard was unconscious for the rest of the beating that followed. Later that evening, as he bandaged Sam's hands, the knuckles swollen and bleeding, he looked up into those dark brown eyes gazing down at him and smiled, feeling at peace, knowing as long as they were together, they could get past anything...feeling...at home.