Author: Hollywoodx4 PM
Sammy and Abigail, in a rare moment of piece, talk about their views on death. (Fluffy Samigail oneshot, based on the final three episodes where Abigail helps plan the memorial).Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Hurt/Comfort - Abigail A. & Sammy G. - Words: 1,000 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-18-12 - id: 8715885
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Abigail was never one for serious discussion. The word even turned her off, as if it meant she would have to reveal her life's secrets in one sitting. For someone as private as she, sadly, it truly meant that invasive questions would be asked, and she would always be expected to answer (but, to the dismay of her conversation partner, never would).
She and Sammy sat in the lounge together; Abigail curled up to his chest as he had his arm around her, huddled together under a thick fleece blanket. It was an unusual sight, seeing them this close in such a public setting. Granted they had gone public a while back, but for Abigail it was still strange to her. Sammy, however, was taking in every moment he had with her the way they were. They chatted idly and softly to each other as they watched a movie, something neither of the two had bothered to look at before pressing play. In moments of boredom Sammy would kiss the top of her head, then her cheek before finally landing on her lips. She'd shrug him away, feigning disinterest before pulling him in for another kiss.
She was feeling very comfortable that night, vulnerable but in the best way. Abigail was finally letting herself simply be with him. They had no intended purpose when they chose to watch a movie, no drive or major excitement with the movie they chose. He didn't ask her to move closer to him, nor did she push him away when he finally wrapped his arm around her tiny figure. Moments like these, Abigail concluded, were the perfect lead into something going wrong.
"Do you ever think about dying?" He mumbled before yawning, looking down at her. She looked at him in question, unable to understand him though his yawn.
"Dying. Do you ever think about it?"
"I like to live, Lieberman." She quipped. He dropped the subject and returned his attention to the movie, but the topic still lingered in his mind. He was unable to put it away.
"I mean, it's not so much the dying I think about, it's the afterward…" When she didn't answer he continued, leaning his head on hers. "I think I'd like a simple memorial, nothing too fancy. I wouldn't want people to dress up for me, either. It'd be a sort of 'come as you are' kind of deal, I suppose. Maybe on the beach, with a big bonfire and all of my favorite food… Y'know, to remember me by." She chuckled at this, shaking her head slightly. He did not turn to her for his next question but kept his eyes on the movie. "What would you want, Abbi?"
He felt her tense against him before releasing it quickly, but he still knew that she had done it. It was hard for her to keep her walls up around him; he tended to know everything about her.
"I…I don't like to think about it."
"What, a memorial?"
"Not that, just…death in general." She spat the word out venomously-she wanted nothing to do with it. "Basically, we try to live these grand lives, achieve these great things, and for what, to lose it all in the blink of an eye? They say we can leave behind a legacy but even then we can still be forgotten. It makes me feel like we're all just skin and bones, that there's no substance." She paused for a moment and he said nothing, feeling her linger on her thought. "It scares me."
It was the first time she'd admitted her fear to anybody, the first time she hadn't thought about being judged by it. Abigail hadn't wanted to talk about it, but there she was explaining her story to someone who was holding her, closer to him than she'd ever imagined herself to be with anybody. He wasn't just a figure, Sammy. To Abigail, he was the only person she'd been able to talk so earnestly with. It terrified her, yes, but it also gave her a sense of warmth to be around him. She knew that she didn't have to worry, anything she said would be right with him.
They sat for a while, Sammy still without an answer to Abigail's confession. He mulled over his thoughts and she ran her fingers over his before interlacing their hands, a further comfort to her now worked up mind.
"But that's not what we're here for." He finally replied. His voice was the opposite of hers; while she'd been venomous and cruel about the topic, he was calm and levelheaded. They fit together perfectly, but he was always there to balance her out. "I think it's something bigger than that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we're not just here to live for the moment we die, and I don't think we live for big moments and achievements, although that's what everybody likes to think. It's the little moments that count, the things that we might need coaxing to remember but are so great at the time. Being ordinary might just be the best part of living because we're not just living to be alive; we're living to be something. Like right now," He added, holding her hand tighter and shifting so that she could be closer to him. "We might not remember this years from now, but I know right now that I'm happy to be. Honestly, being with you makes a lot of those moments."
Serious discussion had always made Abigail squirm. It felt like she was being talked at, not to. However this moment, like most she had with Sammy, was beautifully different. Her head on his chest, she closed her eyes and pulled their blanket to her chin.
"Tell me more about your theory," she coaxed, feeling the vibration of his chest as he began to talk again, his voice and well-placed words a true comfort to what had once been one of her greatest fears.