FIC: White Flag (26/40)
Title: White Flag
Rating: NC-17
Couple: Sam/Brooke...Sam/F..
Summary: This is an Futurefic in which Brooke and Sam have already been
together.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I certainly wish I did. Damn Ryan
Murphy and his unrivaled genius.
A/N: As promised there will be not only one update today, but two. I hope you enjoy.
A thank you always to my trusty beta Karen. I don't know where I'd be without her.
Part twenty-six
It amazed Brooke how many thoughts could race through her mind at warp speed yet never penetrate the haze of numbness clouding her head. She’d been sitting at her desk essentially on autopilot. She was vaguely aware of people coming and going out of her office and she was sure she’d answered numerous questions, but couldn’t comprehend a single thing that had been said to her all day. It had been this way since that night. This numbness that had taken hold of her very soul and left her feeling emotionally exhausted. She just wanted to be angry. Angry at Sam for doing this to her. Angry at Dr. Tanner for saying the things that she’d said. Angry at herself because she’d let her emotions rule her actions and now it was too late to take it all back.
She looked over at the pile of work she’d completed. It had taken her six weeks to catch up on her work and she was finally beginning to see what looked like an end to the steadily growing piles of contracts, clients, requests, budgets, and other assortments of “goodies” her boss seemed intent on torturing her with. She wasn’t a fool. She knew this was his way of subtly telling her she needed to start picking up the slack or she would lose her job. And right now she couldn’t financially or emotionally afford to do that. Work had become her sanctuary. When she was there, she didn’t have to think. She had plenty of time alone with her thoughts at night, as she lay curled up in bed staring at the wall until the wee hours of the morning, just before falling into a fitful sleep. She couldn’t lose her job; it was the only place she felt like she could breathe. All of the time she’d taken off when Cara had first become sick was finally catching up to her. So she stayed the extra hours and she was late to the appointments. And she felt so guilty for it, but there was nothing she could do. Her world was crumbling around her and she could barely catch the pieces.
She looked down at her watch and sighed. It was 5:45pm and her boss had scheduled a meeting with one of their biggest clients at six. This was the third time he’d done this to her in a week and she was beginning to wonder if he was somehow testing her loyalty. She was determined to prove to him that he wouldn’t break her. If she couldn’t control anything else in her life, this was one thing at which she excelled. She picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number.
“What do you need and will I need to post bail?”
“Mac, you knew it was me. Why would you think you needed to post bail?” Brooke should be used to her sister’s phone etiquette, but sometimes Mac said the most inane things.
“Hey, you’re the one with a record…”
“A rec..oh..OH…shut up! It was just one time. And I didn’t mean to steal that car. It was an accident. Besides they didn’t press charges. So, I technically don’t have a record,” Brooke explained looking down impatiently. Her sister had a way of distracting her and that skill had proven useful over the past month, but now was not the time. She couldn’t afford to be late.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all sa-”
“Mac! Focus!”
“Sorry, what do you need?”
“I need you to do me a huge favor.”
_________________________________________________________
It was almost 11:30pm when Brooke finally let herself into the Palace’s kitchen. She’d been staying here over the past month for reasons still unknown to her conscious mind. Thankfully, neither Jane nor her father had questioned it. Even Mac hadn’t bombarded her with many questions. It had just become a part of life. She pulled the refrigerator door open and grabbed a bottled water and a yogurt, not because she was hungry, but because she needed to eat. She leaned against the counter, spooning the creamy contents into her mouth, not really tasting it. She looked around, her hazel gaze falling upon random objects. This was another place where she’d always felt safe. That wasn’t the case now. Now this place was both her sanctuary and her hell. It was so full of memories. The first place she’d ever kissed Sam. The first place they’d ever made love. The place where they’d found out they were pregnant. The first place they’d ever lived in together. She remembered it all. All the fights, all the parties, all the plots to keep their parents apart when they desperately just wanted to be with each other. That’s what this place held and as painful as each of those memories were for her, they were the only things that comforted her.
She cleaned up her mess before heading upstairs. She went into the bathroom, her old bathroom, and began her nightly rituals. As she brushed her teeth, she could practically hear the fight that she and Sam had had the first day she and Jane had moved in. They’d never agreed on what had really initiated the argument, but Brooke insisted that wasn’t important. What stuck with her was just how beautiful Sam was staring at her in indignation, her brown eyes flashing in anger. The blonde closed her eyes as thoughts and feelings flooded her.
She walked back into her “room,” kicking off her shoes and curling up on the bed she used to share with her ex-wife. She didn’t even bother to get undressed as she pulled the covers up to her chin. She stared at the wall, praying for sleep to come but knew that it wouldn’t. She was exhausted and could barely hide the bags under her eyes anymore. Still every night, she lay in this bed staring at the wall, alone with her memories. She buried her face in her pillow to stop the tears that began to form. She barely noticed the dip in the mattress under slight weight or the covers being thrown back, as someone slid into the bed next to her.
“Hey…”
Brooke turned her head, looking up into concerned green eyes. “Hey…”
“Don’t you think you should put some pajamas on? I know how much that suit costs and it’s not the kind of thing you want to wrinkle,” Mac teased lightly.
Brooke shrugged instead of answering as she moved to lay her head on her sister’s shoulder. “How is Cara?”
The teenager sighed. “She’s fine…still a little too thin. She was a little less than thrilled with the Brooke substitute, but she adjusted.”
“Like always…” Brooke finished for her sister.
“Yeah, like always…you know you can’t keep doing this to her.” There was no judgment in her tone, only fact.
“I know. I just need to get caught up at work then things will be back to normal.” They both knew it was a lie. Brooke’s job was demanding. It was just how things were.
They lay in silence for a while, Mac holding the older woman in her arms, stroking her blonde locks. This was another part of Brooke’s new routine. Mac would come in and hold her until she eventually drifted off to sleep. Every morning she woke up with the girl still cuddled at her side and she felt guilty. Guilty that Mac spent most of the night taking care of her when she should be sleeping or hanging out with her friends, but feeling even more guilty that she needed the contact and the comfort. Mac had become her rock and Brooke clung to that.
“You should be in bed. It’s a school night,” Brooke said, though she made no effort to move.
“Thanks Mom, but technically I am in bed.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not going to leave until I know you’re okay.”
“I am< okay.”
“No, you’re not.” The teenager tightened her hold on her sister.
“No…I’m not,” Brooke admitted feeling a few tears slip down her cheeks.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Mac whispered into Brooke’s hair, reminding her of times when their roles were reversed. “Just let it out.”
Sobs racked the older woman’s body as she cuddled into her sister’s shoulder. “It just hurts so much,” Brooke whispered.
“I know it does.” Mac kissed the top of her sister’s hair, holding her tightly until the tears subsided and they both fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.