Disclaimer: I do not own I am Number Four. This is the property of Pittacus Lore (James Frey and Jobie Hughes)
A/N: Hey look I haven't forgotten about this yet. This was almost done I just never got around to finish it. I thought a piece in Sam's pov would be a good change since I rarely include him in my fics. A lot of unrequited love from his end. I promise Sam would get a girl in one of my fics. One day, good buddy. Enjoy and review please!
"Sam, I think I might love her." I didn't look up from the crackling fire in front of us. This conversation has been brewing for weeks. I've been avoiding the topic like the plague. It's a wonder that John actually brought it up. The her was obvious. We don't really meet many girls while on the run from federal agents and murderous aliens. The four of us were gathered around the fire, huddling for warmth. Six slept between John and me. Her slender arms were wrapped firmly around Bernie's stomach like a throw pillow. Her head was resting on John's knee, oblivious of the conversation we were currently having.
What can I say? I thought as the fire crackled in front of us. We finally left the monotone highway for a short while. Six decided that more training was necessary since the last Mogadorian attack. John located a small deserted cabin by the lake we were currently staying at. The mountain calm was a welcome change from the relentless pace Six pushed us for a week now. It was mid-summer, so the nights were clean and warm which meant we were spending days and nights outside, chatting, eating and training. Bur right now, I would like to be anywhere but here, having this conversation with my best friend. "John…" I started.
"Just say it, Sam." A scowl appeared on my lips without thinking which wasn't like me at all. I was Sam Goode, the good natured sidekick of the Loric teens, trying to save the world. Not some moody teen. If this was a normal conversation, I would have probably said, 'I would if you let me.' But this wasn't our normal joking conversation. This single conversation could change the whole dynamic of our little rag-tag group. For better or worse, I wasn't sure. Where do I start? I thought as I looked at John, searching for hints.
Through the flames, John looked much older than sixteen. He was sitting inches away from the flames, almost touching the burning logs. I resisted the urge to pull him away from the embers. His legacies may protect him but to any bystanders, he looked like a plain idiot playing with fire. Despite the low light, I could still make out the deep scars that marred his face. We were all battered up. I could feel a dull throbbing pain on my side from the constant hits but compared to Six, John and Bernie, I was a picture of perfect health.
Six wore John's oversized shirt right now. Through the cotton thin fabric, I could see the thick bandage that wrapped around her abdomen. Her left side has a huge gash that started from her bottom of her rib cage to her hip. Instead of using the healing stone like usual, she instructed me to stitch her up with our poorly equipped first aid kit. I closed my eyes as the memory replayed itself inside my head. It was the worst twenty minutes of my life. I could still feel the warm blood running down my fingers, the sickening smell of blood as it saturated the air, filling my nose, her nails digging into my arm as the needle and thread pulled through her skin, slowly closing the wound. There are nights were I dream of that day. Dreams I would rather forget. That day I learned how strong Lorics are.
"What do you want me to say, John?" I asked, focusing on the now instead of the then. Looking up, John's mouth twisted into a grimace at my biting tone. He brought this precarious topic up but now it looked like he wanted to do anything to avoid it. Tough…
Similar to Six, John has haunting wounds. His right leg has at least two layers of bandages. Just two weeks ago, John's arm was in a sling, snapped in two different places. Healing stones can only do so much. His face was slowly healing. The black eye that blemished his left eye was fading. His v-neck t-shirt revealed a long scar from a dagger that nearly sliced his head off. Six and John appeared like a pair of returning war veterans instead of teens spending their summer touring America.
"Tell me I'm being unfaithful. Tell me to grow up and stop being a hormonal driven teenage boy. Tell me something, Sam. Please." He demanded like I was his conscious, his anchor, the thing that grounds him. I could only look at John's pleading blue eyes and read in between the lines. Tell me my feelings are wrong and I should ignore them, forget them, and move away from them. I interpreted. He wanted me to admit I have feelings for Six like him. He wanted a reason to box his feelings for Six away and dismiss them. But I couldn't say it because there was something in his eyes that wasn't there when he was with Sarah.
"How much do you love her?" I asked instead, ignoring the stabbing in my heart. John stared at me like I was insane which I probably am. His eyes flickered down at her soft sleeping face. Six was really beautiful especially when she's sleeping. Her hair which was usually twisted in a tight ponytail hung loose, curling around her face. She was a picture of peace as she buried her face into Bernie's warm furry back. John gently reached out, pushing a stray strand of her raven hair out of her face. His fingers lightly brushed her cheek in a loving gesture. That should have been enough to convey how much he loved her.
"Too much?" He asked in a joking tone followed by a sad chuckle. I smiled slight as John's expression turned into a serious one. "With Sarah, I felt like I could be normal, that I was normal. I was just another teenage boy growing up in a small town. I fell in love with Sarah and the possible future we could make." Sarah was John's escape from his crazy destiny. It's like for me, Six and John were the people who opened a door that was always locked. They offered excitement in my dull small town life. They represented a tiny chance that my dad was still alive.
"But Six… there's something different with Six." John continued, curling his fingers into a fist as he tried to put his words to his feelings. "We fight. We argue. We constant push each other to the limits. There are days that I want to throttle her and others when I want to pull her close and shield her from the pain. I didn't love her at first. I actually despised her. She was always so pushy, so driven, so single-minded. She represented the complete opposite of Sarah and I hated her. But… for some reason she just knows, understands me without words. With Sarah, it was a constant fight with who I am and who I was pretending to be. I wanted to be her perfect boyfriend. I wanted to love her. I may have forced myself to love Sarah. But with Six… it just clicked as cliché as it sounds. Since the first meeting, we fit."
"John, that doesn't make sense." I questioned because it doesn't. People don't click, even if their aliens from another planet. Nothing is that easy.
"I know and that's what scares me." John replied and looks at me. In that instance, I understood what the difference between Six and Sarah was. John was scared of whatever he feels for Six. He doesn't know what it is and it scares him to the core. Maybe that's what love is. The fear in John's eyes could show how much he cared for Six and how scared he is about her reaction to his feelings. Would she hurt him or would she return his feelings? "You like Six, right?" John asked as he looked down at her once more. I nodded my head; there was no sense in denying what nearly everyone knew. "Every time we get attack, do you get an uncomfortable lurching feeling in your stomach? Do you need to hear her voice? See her face? Hold her tight in your arms to make sure she's fine?" I shook my head, waiting and wondering why John was asking these questions. We both knew how strong Six was. She doesn't need either of us to take care of her, a fact she proves daily. John looked up at me and his stare pierced me to the core. "I do though, Sam. I get this terrible feeling in my stomach when she's gone. I need to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice after every battle, every time she's gone from my eyes. The feeling is so intense it hurts some times and I welcome the feeling. What's going on, Sam?"
I looked away, unable to staring into his strong eyes and looked at Six. She was still sleeping between us. Her eyes were furrowed together like she was in a bad dream. John must have noticed because his arm gently draped around her shoulders and the lines disappeared. "John…" she whispered in her sleep, snuggling her face into his knee and continued her steady breaths.
"You love her, John. That's what's going on."