[ that is the problem, isn't it? that he looks at these pieces and sees a larger picture, that he's so used to seeing that larger picture because that's where steve has always needed him. where he's always needed to be. he sees an uncertain fact here, a piece of information that doesn't make sense there, and suddenly all sam can see is the whole of it. what could happen, if these things are left alone. what is possible, if those building blocks are still there.
he has spent the last few days being yelled at - by julie, by jesper, by peter, by inej. geralt, who sam had never even heard him raise his voice. he prepares for wanda, too, though he's not sure why. prepares to hear her tone, in the same way he'd imagined the message through their minds.
you're going to go back she says instead, and when sam's eyes jerk upwards towards her, he finds her eyes down at her own hands. because it's what we do.
sam feels...he doesn't know how to describe it. if wanda looks up to see his expression, she'll see his eyes a bit wide, almost younger. it's a relief, suddenly, not to feel like he has to explain why. why he's driven for the larger picture, why he needs to help them all, even if it leaves him bedridden for days at a time.
wanda doesn't tell him off. doesn't shatter the cup in his hand, or harden her jaw. sam can't explain the rush of all that tension flooding out of him, doesn't know what to call the feeling of what is left behind, but what he does feel is that same distance. how far she really is.
his expression shifts to confusion, his head tilting. ] Like the care package? [ it pulls a small smile to his mouth, and he sets his cheek against the top of her head again. lets go of one hand around the cup to wrap it around her, to pull her closer to his side. ] I'll wait for it. And Steve is coming, too. You think I'm going to let him out of my sight?
[ but that's another conversation, isn't it? another time, another topic, another heavy weight that sam accepts he will carry, and continue to carry.
it's another moment before he exhales. ] I really am sorry for worrying you, for what it's worth.
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he has spent the last few days being yelled at - by julie, by jesper, by peter, by inej. geralt, who sam had never even heard him raise his voice. he prepares for wanda, too, though he's not sure why. prepares to hear her tone, in the same way he'd imagined the message through their minds.
you're going to go back she says instead, and when sam's eyes jerk upwards towards her, he finds her eyes down at her own hands. because it's what we do.
sam feels...he doesn't know how to describe it. if wanda looks up to see his expression, she'll see his eyes a bit wide, almost younger. it's a relief, suddenly, not to feel like he has to explain why. why he's driven for the larger picture, why he needs to help them all, even if it leaves him bedridden for days at a time.
wanda doesn't tell him off. doesn't shatter the cup in his hand, or harden her jaw. sam can't explain the rush of all that tension flooding out of him, doesn't know what to call the feeling of what is left behind, but what he does feel is that same distance. how far she really is.
his expression shifts to confusion, his head tilting. ] Like the care package? [ it pulls a small smile to his mouth, and he sets his cheek against the top of her head again. lets go of one hand around the cup to wrap it around her, to pull her closer to his side. ] I'll wait for it. And Steve is coming, too. You think I'm going to let him out of my sight?
[ but that's another conversation, isn't it? another time, another topic, another heavy weight that sam accepts he will carry, and continue to carry.
it's another moment before he exhales. ] I really am sorry for worrying you, for what it's worth.