Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam drove the streets in a beat up Toyota. The shops around him were populated by people— which was no surprise.

He had followed his target here.

It was a dangerous game however— it was a populated area and a car following a man on tight roads wasn’t the easiest task to perform.

The man, Aitor Flores. Age 61, a banker who used to work for the leader of Sam’s crime family—- Albert Greco. They parted ways because of differences. No hard feelings up until now.

Flores was left alone only for a few years until Greco caught word that he was going to help the feds get more dirt on Greco in order to take him down. He was having none of that, so he sent Sam to take care of him.

So far, all Sam has seen was Flores going to shops. Buying groceries. Nothing out of the ordinary. Instead he went to the store as normal. He had a reusable bag of groceries in his hand. Sam even saw him give a homeless man on the street some money. He watched his every move fully expecting him to continue working for men like Grecco. Meeting in the back of buildings. Or helping people launder money.

Sam followed him as he went in his car, an older, beat down one. At least a few decades old.

He followed him until he got to Flores’ house. He parked, simply got off, and went into his home.

After a few minutes Sam could see him in his kitchen, looking at a picture of a woman, most likely his wife. Considering his wife wasn’t present in the house, Sam assumes she found out about his last job and left him. Or maybe she died. He doesn’t know what’s worse.

Sam sits in his car, continuing to watch as Flores goes around his home cooking some sort of meal. With a microphone Sam can hear the faint sound of music. The sun sets as Sam stays there and watches.

He considers just pulling out a sniper rifle and shooting through the window.

Until a car pulls up to Flores’ home. Sam sits up at the image. He fully expects men to come out, most likely men like Greco. But no, a young woman— in her 30s with two kids come out. They knock and he can see all of them smiling once the front door gets opened.

Sam sits back again, relaxing in his seat. He watches the family eat together.

Eventually when Flores came out to take out the trash, Sam opens his door. Grabbing his pistol next to him, shoving it in his coat. He walks over— using the shadows from the night to come up behind Flores.

He almost screams when Sam grabs him by the throat. Yanking his collar to then wrap an arm around his neck. He pulls him behind his car next to the fence.

He went to yell but Sam covered his mouth.

Sam whispers in his ear, “Grecco sends his regards.”

Sam makes the mistake of glancing at the house again. At the warm lighting coming from the windows. Where Flores’ grandkids giggled at something.

He takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger. It makes a noise but the suppressor makes it quieter. Sam drops the body and walks back to his car. Hiding his pistol as best as he can as it cools off.

He shuts the car door.

Sam glances across the street, seeing Flores’ daughter open the door. He can’t pull his eyes away from the view of her trying to check her father’s pulse. She notices the blood pooling around him. She begins screaming but the sound is muffled.

He thinks of his own daughter— Sarah. Maybe one day she’ll find Sam with a bullet hole through his head. And a cycle will be repeated. Maybe he deserves it too.

Sam drives away as soon as he sees the grandkids start to come out of the house.

Chapter Text

Sam is out gardening when he gets a call. He has two phones. One for personal use. Not that he uses it much. And one for ‘business’.

The smaller phone buzzes in his pocket while his personal one stays out in the open.

He frowns at the feeling of the buzzing phone in his pocket.

He drops his gardening tools and heads inside. His life has felt consumed by this job, he can’t even finish his own yard on a day off.

“Hello?” He makes sure the front door is shut before answering.

“Fisher, we need you to come in, he needs to speak to you,” a voice says. He recognizes it, it’s always the same man calling him to inform Sam that he has a new ‘job’.

“Copy,” Sam hangs up. Passing by a photo of his daugher in the hallway. He should call her— but later.

He puts his tools away, doesn’t bother changing out of his jeans and t-shirt. Maybe he smells like grass but he can’t bring himself to care.

He gets in his old dodge truck and drives. It’s a 1970 pickup, with a red and gray finish. It’s squeaky clean except for when it’s not. It was a gift from his grandmother. He learned to drive in it at fifteen years old — and now even after she’s gone, he still drives it.

After half an hour of driving, he turns a corner into a long driveway. The house that sits at the end of it is a beautiful and massive house.

He parks and the guards don’t greet him, they simply just let him in through the big doors. He’s been here too many times before.

He goes in, knocks on the office door at the far end of the house.

The assistant lets him in. He sees Douglass Shetland sitting at his desk. Grecco’s successor and Sam’s old buddy from his SEAL days. Doug was a Marine but it’s all the same department.

Doug isn’t entirely in charge per se. But rather he proved to be the best choice that Grecco had when he got sick. No longer able to run things and no children to give his ‘business’ to either.

Sam remembers Grecco always wearing Andretti suits and shiny loafers. Shetland sports a simpler look. Cargo pants, boots, and a t-shirt. A drastic contrast to the office around him.

“Sam,” he gives a small smile when he sees him.

Sam sits down on a leather chair across from Shetland. “How you doing, Doug?”

“I’m great, you?”

Sam nods. “What do you got for me?”

Shetland slides a file over.

Sam opens it, staring at the contents. It’s nothing new.

“Hate to kill a fellow Marine but it needs to be done… Make it quiet. Or make it look like an accident.” He says. “Burn the file once you’re done, Sam. You know the drill.”

“You got it, boss.” Sam says.

“Hey, maybe when you get back we can get a couple of beers. God knows we both need it.”

“That sounds great,” Sam says.

Sam leaves immediately after that. He wishes this could have been an email. But knowing that’s not remotely how they do things.

He walks down the hall again. Tucking the file under his arm.

Chapter Text

Sam leaves as soon as he can. 

He was given at least 48 hours to complete this job. There have been times where that window needed to be widened but he doubts Grecco will be as lenient with someone like this. 

Doug might be more understanding though…

Sam’s target is William Redding. A former Marine. Now he’s working for a three letter agency— the FBI.

He turned 35 last month. He’s from San Diego. No kids. No wife. The pictures in his file are one from his Marine graduation. And a few surveillance photos. Short brown hair, glasses, always dressed nicely for work. 

The information in his file points to the fact that he’s making a case against Grecco and thus everyone else who works for him. Sam doesn’t—or isn’t allowed— to question why targets need to be taken care of. Sam always assumes it’s because they know something or they’re a threat against Grecco’s whole operation. 

Albert Grecco may be a smart man because he doesn’t tell his men the whole story. Sam has learned that Shetland tends to be vague as well. 

Although Sam has noticed over the years that people who used to work with Grecco have dropped dead ‘randomly’. And it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out why. 

~

After picking up a 2002 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Sam drives over to NY. 

It’s close enough from where he’s at. Plus flying is always a hassle since there’s cameras, security, the whole thing. 

Sam isn’t exactly able to go to the FBI headquarters and linger around for Redding. His goal is to try and figure out what car Redding drives at the least. 

Or he could simply wait at his home for him; but Sam normally tries to shadow his targets before taking them out. 

However, Redding is a little untouchable right now so to speak. So Sam takes his chances at least for right now and goes to an address that he hopes is accurate to where Redding lives. 

Thankfully the information on his file was right. He sees a car pull up around 5 pm and he sees Redding come out. Sam notes that he drives a silver Toyota Camry. 

Sam brings out a microphone. He can see and hear Will unlocking his door. It’s a modest home, nothing too big. There’s a few bushes in the lawn, and a red door as a contrast to the beige exterior. 

Once he’s inside he gets a call. 

“Hey, Ma,” There’s a silence after. This is when Sam first hears his voice. This humanizes his target and he deeply despises it when it happens. When he shadows his targets, he often finds that seeing how they behave has always made Sam sympathize with the good ones. Men like Flores. A CIA agent named Hisham Hamza last year. Men who left a life of crime to become better— or men like Hamza who just wanted to stop Grecco like Redding does. 

“Yeah, I just came home,” Redding says. “Yeah I- yes I know.” There's silence again. Like he’s listening to his mother talk his ear off. Sam kind of misses when his grandmother used to do that to him. 

There’s a few minutes of back and forth before Redding says his goodbyes. 

Sam notices a sedan pull up to the house. Sam keeps his eyes glued to the vehicle until he sees two kids, both under ten, come out. A woman comes out. She opens up her trunk and hands her kids two boxes of pizza. 

Redding opens the door for them. He peeks out, waving. The kids’ expressions light up at seeing him. 

They quickly go inside and begin eating. They settle into a conversation about daily things. The kids start talking about school. In the back of Sam’s mind, he thinks about how Sarah used to be like that. Not that he was always around to see that. 

The kids call Redding 'uncle’.

And the woman, Veronica, must be his sister. She calls Redding ‘Billy’ a few times. 

After a few hours, the kids and Redding’s sister leave. Sam can hear Redding washing dishes and most likely cleaning up. The whole time Sam thinks about how if he wanted to, he could potentially shoot a bullet through Redding’s window and call it a day… but he doesn’t. He should. But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t have the heart to. 

Sam skims through his file again. He sees he was a communications specialist in the Marines. He got a dual major in history and a B.A in political science. Sam majored in political science as well. 

He reads more about Redding having an older sister. A father who served his country. His mother did as well. 

And a younger brother who died from a drug overdose five years ago. 

Sam stops reading after that. 

~

The next morning it’s around 7 am when Redding leaves his home. The sound of his engine woke Sam up.

Once Sam comes to his senses he realizes he should wait until Redding has a few minute head start. 

Sam follows him. He knows where he’s going— it’s a weekday. So Redding must be heading to work again. Sam could take a different road so Redding doesn’t notice Sam’s car. 

But Nothing happens. Redding comes home after work. And Sam parks further down the road than he did the first time. He can still see Redding’s house from where he’s at. 

His window is now getting smaller considering it’s been closer to 48hrs, so if he’s going to make a decision, he better do it soon.

Sam makes a plan in his head. Maybe if he goes in and pleads his case, maybe Redding won’t shoot him. But first he has to get inside.

He could knock— but then again he isn’t sure he likes that idea. He doesn’t feel like convincing Redding to let him inside his home so they could talk. 

He has no other way of getting inside other than the front door. He doubts a window is open considering it’s winter. 

So he goes over to Redding’s front door. He picks the lock. And he opens the door barely enough for him to get in sideways. 

He’s about to figure out what bedroom door is Will’s (when did he start calling him Will?) and he’s greeted by the cold feeling of a gun at his temple. 

“Drop your weapon.” 

“I’m unarmed.” Sam slowly raises his hands. 

He feels Will begin patting him down. He slowly circles him. Sam ignores eye contact as he does this. 

The only thing Will finds is his lock picking kit. Will places it on the table. 

Will is now standing in front of him, still pointing his gun at Sam’s head. 

“I just need to have a chat with you.” Sam says. 

“About?” 

“Albert Grecco sent me to kill you. I don’t know why, but he’s never liked people who try and mess with his operations. I’m guessing you’re just another unlucky guy.” 

Will nods slightly, like he expected this. “There’s a light switch behind you, turn it on.” 

Sam slowly turns and flicks the light on. There’s an overhead hanging light over the dining room table. 

When he turns to look at Will again. There’s recognition in Will’s eyes. 

There were attempts to try and figure out who might be working for Grecco— doing his dirty work— and Sam’s name came up. 

Samuel Leo Fisher. Ex-Navy SEAL, did some time in the CIA before this drastic career choice. An honorable man with the skills to do the clean, quick, kills that he’s built his reputation on. However Will was hoping a man like him wouldn’t stoop so low to do a job like this.

He did many operations in his time as a SEAL— and even participated in operation Just Cause with a CIA raiding team.

He was honorably discharged from the Navy barely a year before it was suspected that he joined Grecco. 

If Will remembers his birthday correctly, Sam had at least 12 years on him. Although you can’t see it. Maybe the gray hair at his temples gives it away a little, or the slightly tired green eyes staring at him right now. 

“You’re Sam Fisher.” 

Sam nods. 

“I knew going after a man like Grecco would come with consequences...” Will slowly points the gun down. “But there’s other people working on Grecco’s case, why target me specifically?” 

Sam shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Will’s lips purse. 

Sam pulls out a chair from Will’s dining room table. He sits down. 

Will checks out the window over the kitchen sink. He’s met with streetlights and parked cars.

“We can’t stay here,” Sam pipes up. “I suggest you pack up.” 

Will goes to his bedroom. Taking his gun with him. 

Sam hears drawers opening. The sound of a closet door opening then closing. 

Sam gets up. Glancing at the photos hanging up in the hallway. There’s a photo of Will when he was younger, with a girl who looks slightly older than him. And a toddler next to him. Sam assumes that’s his siblings. 

There’s another one, with a woman with white hair, she’s hugging a baby. It looks more recent than the other photos.

Will comes out after a few minutes. He’s now out of his PJs and he’s wearing jeans and a gray crewneck sweater. 

Will passes Sam, heading to the bathroom. He ignores that Sam was probably looking at his photos. What Sam doesn’t see is Will grabbing some cash he has stashed. His holster is already on his hip. 

After a few more minutes, Will emerges with a duffle bag and a holster on his hip. 

“You have everything?” Sam asks.

Will nods. “What’s your plan?” 

“We can’t contact any of your FBI buddies here, Shetland probably knows where they are at all times. He’ll notice if something is off.” 

“I have old friends in California. Before I moved out here.” 

“That works. Any place but here.” Sam gets up, heading for the door. 

“Fisher.” 

“What?” 

“Why are you doing this?” Will’s eyes don't move from Sam’s face; like he’s trying to read him. Sam remembers he interrogated people. “You’ve been loyal to Grecco for the better part of a decade… what kind of sense does that make for you to stop now?” 

Sam sighs. “Look, I’ll tell you everything I know, alright? I just don’t want to work for Grecco anymore.” He hopes that’ll be enough for now. 

Will raises an eyebrow. “You’ll be willing to do that?” 

Sam nods. “But we have to get the hell out of here first.” 

“Well if you behave… then I’ll try and get you a good lawyer and a plea deal too.” Will picks up his duffle bag. 

Sam opens the door for him. He blows air out of his nose with a small grin at his lips. “I like that idea.” 

Chapter Text

The air is crisp and cold on the way out to the car. The streetlights illuminate a red Jeep. 

Will puts his bag in the trunk of the car. He notices there’s a blanket, under it are most likely weapons. He doesn’t mention it as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“I need to go get a few things from my place.” Sam reaches in the back seat. “Put this on.” He tosses Will a Baltimore Orioles hat. 

Will looks at the cartoon bird on the cap. It grins at him. 

“Did you grow up in Maryland? Or you just took an interest in the team?” 

Sam takes a moment to realize what Will means. Until he sees the hat in Will’s hands. 

“I was born there. You?” Sam asks, knowing the answer already. 

“The Padres.” Will puts on the hat. “I converted to the Mets when I came here… it’s the only choice I had.” Will says it like it’s a serious topic. But to a lifelong baseball fan— it is. 

~

They drive for an hour. Maybe less— Will wasn’t exactly paying attention to the clock.  

The house that they pulled up to is a modest one. It’s in the outskirts of town. Will isn’t entirely sure if they’re still in New York or maybe in New Jersey. 

He half expected Sam to be out in some sort of mansion. Although he doesn’t seem to be the type. 

There are neighbors around Sam, but they each have their own space. 

Even in the dark, Will can notice that the house is a grayish brown, with an older roof. It still looks presentable.

The bushes look half done. But the lawn is freshly cut it seems. 

The motion sensor light goes on when they walk on the driveaway. 

Will notices the older— but still maintained— truck that’s parked in the driveway. 

Sam lets both of them in. Will sees Sam b-line it to the bathroom. Instead of the door closing, he hears Sam unscrewing the vent. He grabs a black bag from the open space in the wall. 

As Sam is rummaging around. Will can’t help but look around his home. 

He notices a room with light blue walls. There’s a few posters. And a small twin sized bed. What gives it away is small bottles of perfume on the dresser. A Freddie Prince Jr poster over the bed. And butterfly stickers on the door— slowly peeling off the wood.

“You have a daughter?” 

Sam passes by the room. He pauses a moment. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

Will thinks about asking why she doesn’t seem to be living here, but he doesn’t.

He looks at the photos hung up on the wall next to the door. If Sam minds him snooping around in his home, he doesn’t say anything. 

There’s one photo of Sam with a small child. She has green eyes. Black hair. Her front teeth are missing. She must be around five years old there. Sam looks younger himself. 

There’s a picture of that same little girl getting hugged by a woman. The woman is beautiful. She looks roughly Sam’s age. Will can only assume that’s her mother.

Her brown hair is down to her collarbone, and she has bangs that are slightly grown out. She has a big smile on her face. 

He sees Sam come back in the doorway. 

“Sorry,” is all Will says, he steps away from the photo. 

“I saw the photos in your home, it’s only fair.” Sam admits. 

There’s a silence as Sam grabs something from the closet. 

“She has your eyes.” Will says. Trying to fill the silence but only digging himself further into a hole. 

“Thanks,”

Will doesn’t mention the photo of Sarah’s mother as he and Sam walk out the room. 

Will finds himself on the couch. Faux-leather, brown. Comfortable, he thinks. 

Sam watches him. “The other woman is my ex-wife, in case you were wondering.” Sam walks away, his voice disappearing down the hall. 

“I didn’t notice.” Will calls out. 

Sam comes back. “Of course you didn’t,” he drops a bag next to the couch. “let’s go.”

~ 

Before they officially start embarking on a long journey— Sam needs more gas. He didn’t anticipate taking his target across the country— but so far he doesn’t feel the regret he expected to feel. 

He only feels a little on edge now that he’s exposed in the gas station. 

He picks up some water bottles. Trail mix, whatever he can find. 

He sees some books on a rack. He grabs a copy of Fahrenheit 451, a few crossword puzzles, and a small pack of crayons. 

He gets two medium coffees. Both black. The idea of cream and sugar slipped his mind. 

He gets a plastic bag to carry everything. 

Sam comes out, the worker pumping gas for him seems to be done already. 

Will, who is in the car, still has the hat on. Most likely trying to hide his face. He seems to be reading something. 

“Thanks,” Sam tells the young kid pumping gas. He nods in response. 

Sam goes around the car to the passenger side. Will opens his door to grab the coffee from him. There’s a novel open in his lap. 

“I hope you don’t take cream and sugar, I don’t feel like walking back in.” 

“No, this is great, thanks.” Will sips at it. It’s slightly too hot but Will seem to mind.

Sam gives Will the plastic bag. “I got us some waters, a copy of a book, and a map.” 

Will looks through it, finding the pack of crayons. He holds it up to Sam. 

“It’s food for you.” Sam says with a straight face. 

“That’s very funny, Fisher.” 

Sam seems pleased with himself. 

“No, it’s to draw on the map... and for the crossword puzzles.” Sam reaches in the middle console, grabbing the map.

Will notices a black case hidden away in there as well. it’s most likely a CD case. 

Will hands him the crayons. 

As Sam’s eyes glaze over the map, his fingers follow the roads. 

“We could try and go through Allentown when we reach Philly. Then we go through Pittsburgh or closer to Maryland. We’ll figure it out as we go, alright?”

He gets an idea of how many different routes they can take. He explains it to Will.

Sam eventually folds up the map again. He tucks it away in the glove compartment this time. 

~

They’re not even leaving the state border when Sam gets a phone call, thankfully they’re at a stoplight. 

Will lowers the radio for him. 

Sam grabs a small black phone from the middle console. He silently groans when he sees the number. 

“Hello?” 

A pause. 

“Yeah, he put up a fight but I took care of it.” Sam looks over, catching Will already looking at him. 

Will can hear the person speaking on the other end. A man’s voice. 

Sam nods. “Okay, thanks.” He hangs up, glancing at Will.

Sam quickly takes out the battery from the phone and puts everything back in the middle console. The light turns green and he moves forward onto the road.

There’s low, staticky music on the radio when Will raises the volume again. Just to fill the silence. 

A portion of Silvertide’s Ain’t Comin’ Home plays before Will says something. 

“Have you ever considered if there’s others like you?” Will asks. 

Sam assumes Will means other guys who are under Grecco's employment who are starting to get second thoughts about what they’re doing. 

“Am I not enough?”

“I was just wondering if any of them grew a conscience.” 

“No, it’s just me.” Sam puts his other hand on the wheel. “I’d doubt that any other person would want to risk having a target on their back.”

“I guarantee that it’ll pay off. You don't know the lives you’ll save, Fisher.” 

“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

A car passes them up on the road. A black sedan. 

“Your daughter… does she know?” 

“She thinks I still work for the government. I tell her to not ask questions about it.” 

Will looks out the window. Watching the cars around them. He keeps an eye on the sedan. 

“Redding,” 

“Yeah?” 

“If something happens…” 

“Fisher, they want me as much as they want you.”

“Just-“ Sam grips the wheel tighter. “Just promise me that you’ll tell her that I tried to get out, Will. I don’t want her thinking that I enjoyed doing this job. I’m good at it but that’s it. You understand?” 

“Okay.” Will responds. “You have my word, Sam.”

“Thank you.” Sam says. He takes deep breath. “Now get some rest, we’ll need to take turns driving.” 

Chapter Text

Will is awoken by a hand shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, reaching for his sidearm until he remembers where he’s at. 

“Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep… but this car has been tailing us for longer than I’m comfortable with.” 

Will looks at the side mirror. He sees headlights reflected in the glass. He squints at the brightness. “What do you want to do about it?” 

Sam answers his question by turning into an alleyway that goes all the way through, then back onto another street out of town. 

The car turns to follows them immediately.

Will recognizes the car now. It had been following them since Sam’s place. A late model Volvo. There’s at least two men inside. 

Will must’ve been asleep only for a few hours, if that. 

The sedan seems to know that they’ve made them. So the sedan steps on it. It rams the back of the Jeep.

This causes Will to be fully awake now— if he wasn’t already.

Sam tries picking up the speed after that, no use in stealth. 

They start heading out of the small town they’re in. Thankfully, there’s not too many cars around at this time at night. 

Sam passes up another car heading the opposite direction. He zooms in and out of the two lanes.

He finally gets into the correct lane and the sedan is able to catch up to him. 

Will climbs in the back seat, grabbing his pistol out of his holster and lowering the window.

He leans out. He tries shooting one of the tires out. Until another man in the passenger seat gets the same idea. 

Sam dips his head down when a bullet goes through his side window. The glass shatters all over him.

There’s another car that starts coming full speed in the direction of the sedan. When they see the car, the sedan slows down and tries to get in the lane behind Sam. 

Will shatters the back window with the butt of his gun. The breeze from the cold air hits him. 

He tries shooting at the tires, the driver, the passenger, anything. He’s able to shatter the windshield of the sedan but he doesn’t seem to hit anyone. 

The passenger pulls out an assault rifle. 

Bullets are flying and Will hears some of them hit the back of the Jeep. 

The sedan speeds up and rams the back of the Jeep again. Will has to brace himself against one of the front seats as he jolts forward.

They begin shooting again. Sam ducks his head. So does Will— however one of the stray bullets hits him in the arm. He feels the familiar stinging feeling. 

“I’m hit, Sam!” Will lays down on the seats. Reloading his Colt 1911. 

“Where!?” They have to yell over the sound of the wind. At this speed, it’s loud and vicious. 

“Arm!” Will peaks over to see the sedan still following them. 

Will almost slides off the seat when Sam takes a sharp turn into a driveway. It’s long and narrow. It heads up to a big home with trees and bushes all around it. 

Sam turns off his lights and drives behind this big home. Hiding behind the shrubbery that surrounds it. 

The lights turn on in the house.

Soon, the sedan pulls into the driveway as well. The headlights are bright, Sam and Will can see it spilling over the sides of the house. 

Sam can see people come out of the house. They spot the black sedan. Once the sedan sees the people investigating what the noise is, it backs out of the property with high speed. 

Sam waits a moment.

It’s a few minutes until the owners of the home go back inside and Sam is able to drive away.

He drives slower now. Will’s head is on a swivel. 

Sam can see him clutching his arm in the rear view mirror. 

“We need a new ride,” Sam says. “And to clean you up.” 

Will is staring out the back window, making sure the sedan isn’t behind them anymore.

He sinks into the middle seat, putting his seatbelt back on.“Were those your men?” 

Sam nods. 

“I hope so… I would be concerned if anyone else wanted to kill us.” Will meets Sam’s eyes in the rear view mirror. 

“I’d have to agree with you.” Sam says. 

~

Eventually they find a motel. It’s at the entrance of a small town. Someplace called Petesvile.

There’s a car lot further down the road as well. Sam thinks it’s perfect. 

They park and Sam gets off, renting a room with two twin beds.

The girl at the front desk doesn’t bother questioning why he needs two beds. Or why he’s checking in this late at night.

She barely looks up from her game of Snake on her phone. Except when she gives Sam the keys. She smiles and tells him to have a nice night. 

Sam carries all the bags into the room despite Will saying he still has one good arm. 

As Sam is locking up the room, he finds Will’s bloody sweater and t-shirt discarded on the bed.

He’s already in the bathroom trying to clean his wound. He’s all clear skin. Medium build. A few bruises here and there from their adventure so far.

Sam notices a scar under his collarbone. It’s a few inches long. It looks somewhat old. Sam guesses it’s a knife wound. 

“Let me see,” Sam says. Will turns toward him to let Sam take a look at his wound. 

He examines it. “The bullet is still in there. Go sit on the bed.” 

“Sam, I could do it.” 

“Let me help.” 

Will doesn’t argue. He goes to sit on the bed.

While he’s at it, he grabs the remote to turn on the TV. A random soap opera plays on a grainy channel. 

The red and green blankets covering the bed is surprisingly soft too, Will thinks. 

Sam pulls out a chair from the desk. In his hand there’s the first aid kit he keeps with him when he travels. 

Sam grabs tweezers. “Is this your first time getting shot?” 

“Far from it.” 

“I thought so.” Sam digs in, searching for the bullet.

Will winces at the pain. Gritting his teeth.

“You wanna tell me how you got that scar below your collarbone?” 

“My uh… My brother thought it would be a good idea to use his Army training against my Marine experience… Needless to say, he won.” 

“He won?” Sam stops what he’s doing to look at Will. “Or you let him win?” 

“No. I let him.”

Sam grins. He continues searching. He feels it.

He takes a moment to grab it. Carefully taking it out. “Gotcha.”

When Sam stands up to discard the bullet. He catches Will tracing the scar with his fingers.  

It slipped Sam’s mind until now about what happened to him. 

He sits back down, now with a wet towel in hand. He tries to clean the dried blood off of Will’s skin. 

“He your baby brother?” 

Will nods. “How’d you guess?” 

“Because no younger brother would let his older brother win at something willingly… And I might’ve read your file.” 

“Ah.” Will responds. “Did it have everything?” 

Sam nods. “For the most part.” He shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Will.” 

“…Me too.”

Sam grabs some gauze, and tape. He begins the rest of the process.

In no time, Will’s wound is patched up. It still hurts like a bitch though. 

“Thank you,” Will says. 

Sam nods. He puts everything away. 

Will finds another shirt in his bag. He grabs a grey t-shirt and a denim jacket for when they’re back on the road. 

Sam lays down on the bed closest to the door. He shuts his eyes to kill some time until the used car lot is open.

Will takes apart his gun. Then puts it together again. 

Sam falls asleep to the TV volume low and the sound of metal. 

~

Around 7 am Sam goes to the used car lot. He spots a man wearing a bright orange polo shirt with the lot’s name on it.

Sam approaches him. 

“Hey! what can I do you for?” The man smiles at him. Putting out a hand for Sam to shake. 

He shakes it, smiling. “What’s the cheapest car you got?”

“Uh, they’re all pretty cheap… depends what you’re looking for? A sedan, a SUV?”

Sam looks around. He spots a 2000 GMC Sierra. Silver; with orange flames reaching from the front to the back.

From here, Sam can tell there’s scuffs and a few small dents. But it's dirt cheap for a truck.

Not to mention the massive flame design. He’s sure that lowered the resell value of the vehicle.

“I’ll take that one.” Sam points to it. 

“The GMC?” 

“Yeah, and I’ll take it for cash. Just something for my daughter. She needs to get to school- college actually, it’s her freshman year.” 

“Okay-“ the guy raises a hand. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Sam smiles. He feels it’s much easier to put on this act when he feels better rested. It’s a miracle what a bed will do for his back. 

They walk over. The worker— or maybe he’s the owner— crouches down to look at a scuff near the tire. “It’s a little scuffed up, you okay with that?” 

“Yeah, I just need it for tomorrow.” 

“You’re cutting it close.” The worker stands up again. Sam notices the name tag now— John. 

“What can I say, I’m scatterbrained.” 

“Well it’s been here for a while so you’ll be doing me a favor.” John says. “Come inside to do some paperwork.” 

~

Once Will sees that Sam is driving away with the truck, he raises his seat back up and follows him a mile down the road.

They go down to a lake Sam found.

The sunrise is shining through the trees. The lake looks murky; but the water isn’t for swimming. 

They both get off. There’s a faint sound of cars passing by but they hope they’re far out enough to not be noticed. 

Sam makes sure to clean everywhere they touched the car. Including a few stray drops of Will’s blood.

Once they’re done cleaning, they throw all the bags in the truck. 

Sam puts the Jeep in neutral and lets it drive into the river. It slowly sinks.

They watch as the water fills the car through the shattered windows. 

“This road-trip has been a dream, Fisher.” Will says. 

Sam walks up the small incline to where the truck is parked. “The dream isn’t over.” He squeezes Will’s shoulder.

Chapter Text

Will ends up driving. 

Sam is already falling asleep to a Blue Oyster Cult CD that Will chose. (Because to Will’s surprise, the hitman sent to kill him has a wide arrange of CDs that he keeps in whatever car he’s in.) 

Will drives the whole day. With a few bathroom stops here and there.

Sam mostly sleeps.

~

It’s approaching 7 pm when Will notices they’re getting low on gas. Not to mention his stomach is grumbling. Neither of them has had a proper meal since they left New York. 

Will sees a sign for a gas station coming up in 10 miles. There also seems to be a Waffle House in the same vicinity. 

Eventually he takes an exit that leads to an area with a hotel, a truck stop, and the gas station. With the diner tucked at the end of the road. 

He pulls into the gas station.  

Sam jolts awake when the truck comes to a stop. 

“Relax, Sam.” He puts a hand on his arm. “We need more fuel and a meal wouldn’t hurt either.”

~

After filling up the tank, they drive down the street to the diner. 

A waitress greets them when they walk in. She tells them to sit wherever. They had the whole place to themselves. 

There’s only one other guest. Seemingly a blue collar worker having a meal after work. 

They pick a booth next to a window. Sam doesn’t sit with his back to the door. Will does— but he lets Sam keep an eye on it. 

“Hey, boys.” An older lady walks up to their table. Her name tag reads ‘Doris’. Her smile is as big as her hair. “What brings you here?” 

“Road-trip,” Sam says with no hesitation. “We got hungry.” He isn’t telling a lie either. 

Will smiles up at her. 

“Where to?” 

“Massachusetts,” Sam says. Complete opposite direction of the way they were actually heading.

”Ah, I heard it’s a nice place… Anywho, I don’t wanna take up your boys’ time. What can I get y’all started with?” She brings out her notepad. 

“A coffee,” Sam says. “Thank you.” 

“A coffee as well, please.” Will adds. “And a water.” 

She leaves and Sam looks out the window. He watches the parking lot. No cars come in and out. 

Eventually Doris comes back and gives them their coffee in small white mugs that every diner seems to have.

Since breakfast is served all day; Will orders a plate with eggs, some hash browns, bacon, and a few pancakes on the side. 

Sam gets corn beef hash, some sausage, and eggs. Will thinks he’s still eating like he’s in BUD/S. The copious amount of meat is a sight for sure. 

They make idle conversation until their plates come.

“Do you want one?” Will points to the stack of two pancakes on a separate plate. “One is enough for me.” 

Sam stares at the small stack. Contemplating.

“Live a little, Samuel.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Sam says, despite not sounding serious. He picks it up with his fork, placing it on his plate. “Thanks.”

There’s bottles of different syrups already on the table. Sam grabs the regular flavored maple syrup. 

He sees Will adding butter to his pancake. Sam thinks that defeats the purpose of making it sweet considering it’s salted butter— but Will doesn’t seem to care or notice. 

Since there’s no blinds on the windows; Sam can see the sky. It’s well past sunset. The sky is painted orange and a deep blue.

Sam’s eyes bolt to the door when a guest walks in.

He soon softens when it’s just a man and his daughter. The dad is most likely closer to Will’s age. The daughter must be anywhere from five to seven. 

They wave at Doris who waves back at them.

They go and sit at a table. The dad pulls out a chair for the girl. When the little girl sits down, her feet are dangling off the chair. 

Will notices Sam watching them. A unreadable expression on his face. 

He looks over. He notices the pair already pointing at items on the menu. They must be regulars. 

Will clears his throat. “You should call her.” 

“What?” 

“Your daughter, you should call her.” 

Sam blinks at him. Making a mental note to call her before they leave. He checks his watch for the time. 

Sam grabs his coffee. The warmth from it grounding him. “You want kids, Redding?” He asks. 

Sam can see in Will’s eyes that it isn’t an unwelcome question. He just wasn’t expecting it.  

“I haven’t given it much thought. Since it never was in the cards for me.” He says. “But I have a niece and a nephew. And I looked after my brother. That is the closest I’ll be to something that resembles a father.” 

Sam sips at his coffee. “You have time, Will.” 

Silence falls upon them. 

“What about you? Did you ever picture yourself being a father?” 

Air goes out Sam’s noise. A quick laugh. “No… but now she’s the only thing I got.” He looks down at his mug. Thumbing at the rim. 

They go silent again. 

Sam digs into the pancake Will gave him. There’s egg yolk on it but Sam doesn’t care. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Will asks. “It’s a little off subject.” 

“Sure, I’m an open book.” Sam says flatly. He chews on a piece of pancake.

“At my place, you mentioned a Shetland. By any chance did you mean Douglas Shetland?” 

“Yeah, you know him?” 

“I know of him. I looked into him around the same time I looked into you.” Will points his fork at Sam. “He stood out to me, considering he was made a scapegoat for an incident in Afghanistan that he wasn’t responsible for.” 

“I remember. It was a friendly fire incident.” 

Will nods. “He got honorably discharged but I’m sure the Marine Corps left a sour taste in his mouth.” 

“It did.” 

“I can’t say that I blame him.” Will eats a bite of his hash browns. Ketchup squeezed all over it. 

Sam doesn’t say anything. He just finishes his pancake. 

Will picks at what’s left of his eggs that have since gone cold. 

“How’s your arm feeling?” Sam asks.

“It’s okay.” Will touches it under his jacket. 

“As long as it’s not getting infected.” Sam reaches for his wallet in his back pocket. “We should get going soon.”

“I’ll pay, Sam.” 

Sam pulls some cash out of his wallet. “Don’t worry about it.” He stands up. 

Will’s eyes follow him to the counter.

He then switches his gaze to the father and daughter again. They both have chocolate milkshakes and they’re sharing a basket of fries.

The dad smiles at his kid as he notices that there’s chocolate all over her face. He goes to wipe it off with a napkin. 

~

After a few minutes, Sam comes back. 

“Thank you for the meal.” Will stands up. 

“Please, Will. It was dirt cheap.” 

“Does Grecco compensate you well for your work?” 

Sam nods. “That’s how I was able to afford Sarah’s tuition.” 

“That’s her name?” They begin walking out. 

He shoots Will a look over his shoulder. “I thought I told you.” 

“No. You didn’t.” 

“Well you never asked.” 

Will begins getting into the truck. Sam stays outside. 

“Give me a minute.” He tells Will.

Sam walks away. He pulls out his personal phone from his pocket. A silver Motorola flip phone. 

He dials Sarah’s number. It rings a few times before she picks up. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Hey, Dad. Is everything okay? 

“Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give you a call and let you know I don’t think I can visit for Christmas this year. I’m sorry.”

In the past few years, since Regan died, he’s become more accustomed to using that phrase. I’m sorry. 

“Oh, man, I totally forgot.” She pauses. “Honestly it’s okay, Dad. I’m kinda behind on homework anyways. There’s always next year. Plus in a couple weeks I think I should have it off. I could come visit? We’ll plan something.” 

Sam takes a deep breath. He’ll probably be in prison by then. 

“That works. We’ll figure it out.” He pauses, chewing on his lip. “I love you.” 

“I love you too… You sure everything’s okay?” 

“Yeah- Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“You worry me sometimes.” 

Sam chuckles. “Why’d you have to move away?” 

“Well with the way my bank account is looking… I might have to move back in with you.” 

“That’s no issue. You’re not even twenty yet. No need to be independent. 

“I know,” She bites her nails. “Anyways, I’m sorry to cut the conversation short, Dad— but I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Alright, Sarah… Bye.” He hangs up. Shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

Sam glances up at the sky. It’s a clear night. He can see all of the stars above him. 

He isn’t much of a religious man, but sometimes he wonders if Regan is looking down at him. Or if she watches over Sarah. 

He hopes he’s doing the right thing. That Regan would be proud of him somehow. Wherever she might be. 

Chapter Text

Texas is long, flat, planes of land. Parts green and lively. Parts dry and desolate. 

It’s December but there's still humidity in the air. It sticks to you, it sticks to your clothes.

Will learns this fact when he lowers the window.

He quickly puts it back up and shrugs off his jacket. 

Sam is at the wheel. There's a sense that because they’re in Texas— country music must get put on. 

They drove nonstop the whole night until they became restless, antsy, and hungry again. 

Will checks the map. At this point, they’ve made it hallway through Texas. 

They make the decision to stop at a gas station. And grab food, some water, and stretch their legs. 

Will gets off wordlessly, most likely having to go relieve himself of his coffee from earlier and the bottles of water he drank. 

Sam takes a moment to look at the gas station. It’s massive actually. 

He stretches. Scanning the parking lot in the meantime.

He goes into the back seat to grab his bag of clothes. 

He wanders into the building. There’s people walking around. Families, workers, teenagers. 

The second thing Sam notices is the plushies of a cartoon beaver at the front of the store. It must be the company’s mascot. 

Sam grabs one of them. It’s buck teeth bared.

He wonders if Sarah would like something like this… He isn’t entirely sure if she outgrew stuffed animals or not. 

Eventually, Sam finds the bathroom. He turns on the sink. Splashing water on his face. Some of it drips on his shirt. 

He grabs a paper towel to dry himself. Then he steps into a stall to change clothes.

He changes out of his cargo pants and puts on a pair of jeans. Then he puts on a navy blue polo style shirt. He keeps his hiking boots on. 

He hears someone come in. They turn on the faucet. Water gets splashed around. The automatic soap dispenser makes the familiar buzz like someone’s hand went under it. 

Once Sam’s done, he opens the door, stepping out. 

He’s faced with someone he recognizes. Glasses and a goatee.

The person is pointing a gun at him. A suppressor is sticking out at the end of it. 

Milan Nedich. 

“Put your hands up, Fisher.”

Sam gently sets down his duffel bag on the tile floor.

He puts his hands up, palms out. 

Milan steps closer, reaching for Sam’s gun. It’s tucked away under his shirt. 

“Where’s Redding?” Nedich’s left hand is grabbing Sam’s holster. While his right is shoving a pistol square in Sam’s chest. 

“He’s here somewhere. Why don’t you go find him?” Sam grabs the gun, twisting Milan’s wrist. A shot wizzes past, missing Sam but going into the wall. 

Sam’s other hand moves to grab Milan’s throat.

He pushes him back into the stall to Sam’s right. The door crashes open with a loud bang. 

Milan trips over the toilet, his legs buckle under him. He immediately falls into the toilet bowl, considering the seat was up. 

Sam tightens his grip on Milan’s throat. The back of his head is now pressed against the cold brick wall. Sam is still keeping hold of his wrist. 

“Are you alone?” Sam hissed. 

“Yes!” 

“Are you lying?” 

“No!” Milan tries to loosen Sam’s grip by clawing at his fingers with his extra hand— but Sam doesn’t budge. 

“Why would they send just you after two trained men? You’re fibbing.” 

“Fine! Fine! Jenkins is out there trying to find Redding.” 

Sam lets go. Getting a grip on Milan's gun. He yanks it away from his hand like a kid with candy. 

He points and shoots both of Milan’s kneecaps. Then he sets the gun on the floor. 

Milan screams in pain. He goes to reach for his legs but all he’s met with is blood. He quickly slouches over, his mouth agape in a silent scream. 

“You come after us again, and I’ll do worse than shoot you. You understand?” 

“I understand.” He mumbles. “Damnit, Fisher!” 

Sam grabs his bag and goes out. The bathroom door slams behind him. 

He scans the store for Will. There’s people everywhere. Sam sees no sign of him. 

“Damn,” Sam turns on his heels, heading out the door. 

He starts speed walking to the truck. He tosses his bag in the bed of the truck.

He scans the parking lot with a hand on his holster. 

Sure enough Sam sees Jenkins and Will. They’re at the other end of the lot. 

Daniel Jenkins is twenty-something years old. He’s young and fast. A seemingly good kid who probably just got roped into this. He probably needs the money. Or maybe he thinks he isn’t good for anything else. 

And Will, although at least ten years older than Jenkins, is now dodging a pocket knife getting jabbed in his direction. 

Jenkins lunges at Will again. Sam starts running now. 

Will takes the opportunity to grab his arm. He yanks it toward himself. Jenkins tumbles forward and Will lets gravity do it’s thing. 

Jenkins’ pocket knife falls on the concrete with a small clank.

Will puts a knee on his chest. 

“Jenkins!” Sam yells. 

Jenkins looks in the direction of the voice. His eyes going wide when he spots Sam coming their direction. “Shit, Fisher- What did you do with Nedish?” 

“Same thing I’ll do to you if you don’t answer my questions, Daniel.” Sam crouches down to look him in the eye. “Is Doug still in New Jersey?” 

Jenkins nods almost immediately. “That’s why he’s sending us.” 

“Good. Does he have any plans to send more men?”

He shakes his head. “Not that I know of. He might even just- just get it over with and come out here himself.” 

"So Doug knows where we are? How?"

"I dont know!" He says. "He lost you guys a while back. We had to show your picture to some guy at a car lot… I figured out you were going to California. It made the most sense.” 

Sam takes in the information. “…Will, let him go.” 

Will’s stands up. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Sam sounds as sincere as he can get. He holds out his hand for Jenkins to grab. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Get in your car, drive away, and never go back to Grecco’s organization or to Shetland.” 

Jenkins blinks at him. “I can’t.” 

Will thinks that Sam looks a bit disappointed. 

“You could do better than this job,” 

“And I told you already… I can’t.” 

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sam’s retracts his hand. “Milan is inside bleeding out. You better go get him.” He stands up. 

“You’re joking…” Jenkins tries getting up. “Damnit,” 

Jenkins starts trying to run towards the gas station. Sam watches him. 

“You okay?” Will asks. 

“I’m just peachy,”

Sam picks up the pocket knife that fell on the floor. He examines it. It looks old, but newly sharpened. 

“He seemed afraid of you.” Will says. 

“Just not afraid enough…” Sam folds the knife. Putting it in his pocket. 

They walk back to the truck. Will checking behind him. Expecting another muscular twenty year old to jump him any moment.

He’s glad when there isn’t one. 

“By the way, I got you a sandwich. It’s in the back somewhere.” 

“What kind?” 

“Turkey,”

“Shame, I like ham.” 

~

Sam eats and drives at the same time. However, Will can tell he’s currently fighting to stay awake. He’s blinking slow and long. Not to mention he’s driving slower than usual. 

Will is making phone calls while he eats his sandwich. Trying his best not to sound like his mouth is full of dry bread and dead bird. 

Sam overhears the conversation— something about a safe house. He thinks he heard somewhere near San Diego. 

A woman’s voice is at the other end.  

Sam can tell Will is aquatinted with the woman over the phone. She must be one of the ‘old friends’ Will had mentioned. 

Eventually Will hangs up. He finishes the last bit of crust from his sandwich. 

It’s currently pitch dark outside. Save for a few headlights passing by.

It’s quiet. The radio is pure static. 

“I’m sure you heard most of that.” Will says after a few moments. 

“You can still catch me up.” 

“There’s a safe house in an area called Jamul… it’s about sixteen miles from San Diego. We can stay there for a night or two… just until they can meet with us and we can get things started for the case.” 

Sam glances at him. “Okay,” 

Will thinks he’s grown accustomed to Sam’s profile these past few days. It’s a thought that disappears soon after. 

“Your family… do they still live in San Diego?” Sam asks. 

“My mother does… She’s still lives in my childhood home.” 

“That’s nice,” 

“She’d like you. She was in the Navy.” 

“My kinda woman,” 

Will shakes his head, a small smile at his lips. 

He begins bunching up the wrapper from his sandwich into a ball. He tosses it into a bag at his feet.

He grabs Sam’s sandwich wrapper too before speaking. 

“Sam… you look exhausted. Pull over and let me drive.” 

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not asking.” 

Sam glances at him. Then back on the road. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

Eventually Sam finds an area that’s big (and safe enough) to pull over at. 

A few cars pass by them while they get out and change seats. 

When Sam gets in the passenger, he immediately reclines the seat. 

“You were tired after all,” Will puts the car in drive. 

“Shush,” 

Sam sits up, putting in a CD. Marty Robbins’ album Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs gets put on. 

Sam falls asleep to the steady sound of the road and 50s country. 

Chapter Text

Sam was awake by the time they reached Arizona. 

He feels stiff, but well enough rested. He slept through the night at least. 

The sun shines on his face, the skies are overcast but parts of blue shine through the gray. 

Once they reach California, everything becomes greener. 

There’s freeways that turn into long roads. It’s all surrounded by foot hills. 

Will says the water at the beaches near here are warm. The sand is too. 

Meanwhile, Sam just remembers growing up in bipolar Maryland. He swam when it was hot and his grandmother made him hot chocolate when it was cold.

Once or twice he caught her pouring a little bit of rum in her cup. Then Sam would sneak a sip or two when she wasn’t looking. The aftertaste was horrible. 

He tells Will this memory of his.

That’s how Will learns he was raised by his grandmother.

Her name was Sarah.

~

Before they know it, they’re on lonely roads. Houses are spread sparsely throughout the area. 

Will drives and drives until finally he turns into a long driveway. The driveway is made out of gravel and it’s lined with tall trees.

Sam sees the house in the distance. It has two stories. It’s beige and a little dirty on the outside. Obviously a bit dated. But it gets the job done. It’s nothing that screams FBI safe house that’s for sure. 

There’s already a sedan parked in front of the house. Someone is standing outside. 

Will parks near the side of the house. The entire area is just a open space anyways. 

They both get off the truck. Sam brings his duffle bag of clothes with him. 

He follows close behind Will as they approach the front door. 

A younger guy stands outside. He’s engulfed in smoke. He has a brown jacket on. His red hair combed neatly. 

“Wilkes, it’s good to see you again.” 

“Redding, the feelings mutual.” He shakes Will’s hand. Wilkes’ cigarette is in-between his fingers in his other hand. “You need any help with the stuff inside your truck?” 

“No, we’re good for now, I believe.” Will looks back at Sam who is standing behind him. “Wilkes, this is Sam Fisher. Sam, this is Vernon Wilkes Jr.”

“Ah, I’ve heard crazy things about you, man.” He shakes Sam’s hand. “An ex-Navy SEAL who turned to wet work? Pft, your file reads like a spy novel. I’d love to pick your brain one of these days.” 

“Maybe when I get out of prison we can have a picnic.” Sam responds. 

“Hey, I know you’re being sarcastic but that sounds like a good time.” He takes another drag. 

Will tries not to chuckle.

In the back of his mind, he remembers that Wilkes has always reminded him of his little brother. Despite Wilkes having two years on Will.

“Hey, have a look inside,” Wilkes points a thumb behind him. “Let me know if you need anything before I take off.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Wilkes. Thanks.” Will says.   

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Nice.” He puts out the cigarette, stepping on it with his loafer. “Makes my job easier.” He shrugs. “Also, Anna and I will be back tomorrow morning, sharp and early. Call me if there’s any trouble.” He shakes their hands before waking back to his car. 

Once he’s out of earshot, Sam speaks. 

“Has he always smoked?” 

“Yeah, for as long as I’ve known him. 

“You’d think his voice would lower a few registers…” Sam mutters. 

“Be nice, Sam, he’s a good man. Not everyone can sound like you.” 

“I never said he wasn’t… Wait, what did you just say?” 

Will is already long gone inside the house. 

Sam pauses, grabbing his bag.

It’s a moderately well furnished home. It doesn’t need to be anything overly home-y or welcoming. 

There’s low wooden ceilings. With a fire place and a exposed brick wall. The couches are floral print, to top it off. There’s carpet in the living room and dark hardwood floors in the kitchen and dinning area. 

Sam sets down his bag. Silently he thinks that this is it. 

They end up eating frozen dinners that were stocked in the fridge.

They sit on the small, circular, dining table room like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like tomorrow Sam’s life isn’t going to change in one way or another. 

Oh and Sarah, oh, he should tell Sarah. How would he explain this? 

Will doesn’t mention anything about tomorrow as they eat. He stays quiet. The staticky tv is playing reruns of some show neither of them are familiar with. 

It’s mostly dark outside. There’s an open window with a breeze coming through. It moves the beige curtains in a flowy motion. 

After dinner, Will disappears into one of the bedrooms upstairs. 

Sam sits there, in the dim house by himself. He finds himself getting up and opening the back sliding door. It leads to an open space (the ‘backyard’) completed with mangled grass and not a fence to be seen. 

He sits on one of the sun damaged lawn chairs. There’s rust and cobwebs on it. 

Sam digs out Jenkins’ knife from his pocket. It’s a trailing point knife, the handle is faded black and has a singular red stripe.

He runs a finger over the edge of the blade. 

After a few minutes, Will appears with a different t-shirt on, the same jeans, and black Chuck Taylor’s. 

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Are you checking to see if I made a run for it?” Sam doesn’t look up, he just feels a presence now. The same presence he’s felt next to him for the last handful of days. 

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” 

“You never know,” 

Will moves the dirt around with his foot. “Sam, whatever happens tomorrow morning…” 

“Save it,” Sam closes the knife, shoving it back in his pocket. “I know.”

Will looks up at him. “You can’t possibly know what I was going to say.” 

“No, but whatever it was, don’t worry about it,” Sam stands up, walking to where Will is standing. “At the end of the day, I still worked for a very bad man. There’s no amount of confessing that is going to change that… You do what you have to do.” 

There’s the sound of what Sam assumes are coyotes in the distance. Two of them. Other than that, It’s so quiet that his ears ring. Nothing has been this silent since… since this whole thing started. Since forever. 

He feels light, mostly. Scared too. Not of a prison cell, but what Sarah might think. What her life might look like while he’s put away.

It’s almost like Will can hear the gears turning in his head. 

Will clears his throat. Staring down at his feet again. The splotchy patches of grass there— but mostly the dirt.

“I told you… that I would do the best I could to give you an easy sentence. A plea deal, a good lawyer-“ 

“Will, I said-“  

“Not just for your sake,” Sam’s close enough now for Will to point a finger at his chest. “But for your daughter's sake as well… Sarah needs her father. So I plan on keeping the promise I made you.” 

“I thought you were just trying to sweeten the deal.” Sam’s attempt at a joke. 

Will’s expression doesn’t falter. “No. I don’t say things I don’t mean, Fisher.” 

Sam’s suddenly aware of the little distance between them. How Will seems so willing to do this for him. Without even knowing him. 

“Okay,” Sam’s voice is low, gentle, like a silent thank you. 

The silence is interrupted by the faintest sound of crunching. Like weight being put on the gravel. 

They look toward the source of the sound— then at each other. Alarmed expressions on their faces. 

It happens again. Except it’s faint. Like it’s on the dirt now. 

Will steps backward into the house to grab his 1911. 

Sam follows him. Pocketing the car keys and grabbing his own sidearm. 

Will turns off the dining room light. He doesn’t get a chance to turn off the TV though. 

The window is still open at the front of the house. Through the open blinds, Will can see a shadow passing by the window. 

The porch light is still on, slightly flickering. 

The door knob jiggles. 

Sam touches Will’s shoulder. He gestures his head to the back door again. 

They step outside. Going around the corner and to the truck. 

Will cringes when the truck makes the beep noise when it unlocks. He cringes again when Sam turns the engine on.

Sam speeds off. Flicking the headlights on in one swift motion. 

Sam feels the g-forces push against his chest. He drives, despite not knowing how the hell to get out of here. 

Will calls someone and it goes to voicemail. He waits for the beep. 

“Anna, It’s Will, call me back when you can. The safe house has been compromised. Fisher and I are driving away now, but chances are they’ll start pursuing us soon.” 

He hangs up. Calling Wilkes but he doesn’t pick up either. 

There’s only dark, straight, dim roads. 

“Is this the only road that gets us out of here?” 

“Yes, this is the way we came.” Will shifts in his seat. 

Eventually Sam sees headlights in the rear view mirror.

He’s currently pushing the truck the best it can go. But they need to stop eventually, and the driver of the Tahoe is as stubborn as Sam is. He won’t stop. 

And if the situation can’t get any better, Sam starts to see sprinkles of rain on the windshield. 

The Tahoe catches up to them, more and more. Sam doesn’t bother even looking at who it is. He knows it’s Doug. 

The Tahoe swerves into the truck. Sam tries pushing back. They each push until both vehicles are scraping against each other. 

Sam tries serving to avoid Doug. But there’s not enough room.

Will is about to get into the back seat again to shoot the vehicle— just like he did a few days ago. This all feels like Deja-Vu. 

But Doug slows down before Will can move.

Doug gets in his lane again, and then drives his Tahoe into the back end of the truck. Sam tries moving out of the way, having a gut feeling what Doug is trying to do, but it’s too late. The truck spins and they get too close to the edge of the road.

Sam steps on the breaks. And Doug steps on the gas, hitting them again.

Sam remembers feeling like he’s floating. Until he feels the suspension of the truck bottom out. And soon he goes back to floating. He can’t even hear the crashing of the truck against the side of the incline. 

Glass flies across his vision. 

He blacks out. 

When he opens his eyes again. He looks around. Taking a moment to realize that there’s an airbag inflated in front of him. His head feels heavy too, like the blood is rushing to his brain. 

He looks to right, seeing Will barely coming to his senses. 

“Will? Are you alright?” 

He looks half out of consciousness, half out. 

Sam hears boots against the dirt. Shit. 

His door gets pulled open. It’s a struggle considering it’s warped. But Sam doesn’t plan on helping the person at the other end. 

Soon the figure crouches down to try and cut Sam out of his seatbelt. He sees Doug’s face come into view.

Doug manages to cut his seatbelt. Sam falls on his back, onto broken glass on the roof of the truck. 

Before he knows it, he’s getting dragged out by his arms. Whether or not he wants to…

He meets Doug’s face for the first time in a while.

He knows everything has changed and at the same time— nothing has. 

“Get up,” Doug says. His gun is now out of his holster and pointed at Sam’s head. 

Sam tries, he moves to rest on his forearms. Then he gets on his knees. And he stands up.

As soon as he gets his footing. Doug pushes him against the mangled truck behind him. His forearm across Sam’s throat. 

Sam’s hairline is bloody, his arms too. His back is most likely sprinkled in glass. 

“You’re not gonna say anything, Sam?” 

“Do you expect me to beg for my life?”

Doug honestly just looks disappointed. And Sam can’t say he blames him. 

“Is Redding blackmailing you?” There’s cold against his forehead. Doug’s desert eagle. 

“He can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” 

Doug stares at him, a vein protruding in his neck. With a look in his eyes Sam knows all too well. 

“If you’re going to shoot me, get it over with.” Sam says. 

“Is that what you want?” 

“What I want is to go home.” 

Doug let’s go of him. His jaw is clenched. 

He steps back away from Sam.

He unloads his gun, and tosses it away before moving to grab Sam again.

He grabs him by the throat, throwing him onto the open space behind them. There’s some mud already. It gets all over Sam’s clothes.

“Just make me understand something, Sam. After all these years? Just all of a sudden?” 

Sam tries standing up, getting on his knees first. He’s feeling a little uneasy.

Doug kicks him. Sam falls back again. 

“Come on, say something, Sam! You owe me that.” He swings at Sam’s face, landing a punch. Sam thinks he tastes blood. 

He stands up. 

“I told you-“ Sam tries kicking Doug, but misses. “I’m tired of this whole job, it never suited me.” 

“It suited you fine… Without this job, Regan would have never gotten her treatments.” 

“She died anyway!” Sam punches him in his nose. It connects. Doug’s eyes begin to water. “Are we talking or fighting?” 

“We can do both-“ Doug tackles him. Sam falls back. His head hits the dirt. 

“Regan lasted a hell of a lot longer than she expected to, right?” Doug tries pinning him down. “You should be thankful, Sam.”

“She suffered.” He says. “Sarah had to watch her mom rot away and die.”

“It was a small price to pay.” 

Sam head butts him. He gets the advantage again, pushing Doug to the ground. He punches him again, and again. 

Sam wraps his hands around Doug’s throat.

“I had to watch someone I love wither away. Do you understand what that’s like?” Sam’s speaking through gritted teeth.

His grip around Doug’s throat burns. 

“No, Sam… I don’t understand.” Doug whispers, trying to swallow saliva but he can’t. 

Sam blinks at him. His grip lessens.

Then he gets up off of Doug like he’s on fire. 

Doug gasps for air immediately. He tries sitting up but he’s too busy coughing. 

“I should of sent someone else to kill Redding.” He chokes out. 

“You should of,” Sam gives him a minute before grabbing him again, putting him in a headlock. “I guess we both have our regrets.”

Doug tries hitting Sam to get out of the hold. But Sam only grips tighter.

Doug feels himself slipping away from consciousness. 

He goes limp in Sam’s arms. Sam sets him down on the floor, gently.

Sam’s a little dizzy, but he pushes himself to go and check on Will… Who is currently kicking out the broken windshield. 

Will crawls out. Over the glass and mud. 

Once he’s fully out in the clear— he lays on his back.

Sam puts a hand out, Will grabs it. 

Will’s glasses are nowhere to be found. His eyebrow is bleeding. Not to mention the speckles of blood and shattered glass most likely in his arms now. Sam thinks he sees mud in his hair too. 

They both look like a mess. 

“You okay?” Will asks. 

Sam nods. “You?” 

“I’ve been better.” 

Almost on cue, a car pulls up on the road. Sam hopes it’s not Doug’s reinforcements. 

The car parks.

A woman comes out. She’s pretty far up, but Sam can make out that she's young. Ashy brown hair in a ponytail. 

“You boys okay?” She cups her hands around her mouth to yell. 

“I think so!” Will yells back. 

“I got your message! Wilkes is coming soon!” 

“Thank you!” 

Sam moves to sit down on the ground, his back against the totaled truck. 

He looks over at Doug. He catches himself watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

Will sits down next to him. 

“Don’t worry, he’s only unconscious.” Sam says.

“I wasn’t concerned,” He glances at Sam who doesn’t notice.

Sam keeps his eyes fixated on Doug.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Will’s words fill the air. It lingers there for a moment. Then it dissipates. 

Sam finally leans his head back on the truck. Water droplets fall on his face. “Me too,”

Chapter Text

Sam spent his three years being good, working out, and reading whatever books they let him have. He never started or ended any fights. (Although he wanted to more than once.) 

Will visited him sometimes. Letting him know that he and his coworkers were able to put away more and more of Grecco’s men. That Grecco ended up dying from old age.

Shetland was put away too, of course. 

As promised, Will was able to get Sam a smaller sentence despite his protests. Plus, with Sam’s good behavior and military service, the judges were convinced enough to let Sam free with porale. But if he ever slips up, he’ll be wearing orange again.  

Sarah got to visit him sometimes too. She told him how college was going, that she moved back into the house, and that Will would come and check up on her when he could. 

Her life was normal, except for the fact that her father was in prison. Apparently he was a hitman too, but his jobs have always been out of the ordinary. 

~

Sam walks out with all his things, which wasn’t much. 

He sees someone leaning against a car at least fifty feet away from him. 

The chain link fence opens with a loud buzz. He now can see that it’s his daughter with a big smile on her face. Exactly who he wanted to see.

Her arms are crossed as she leans comfortably against his beloved dodge pickup. 

He looks over at the other person appearing into view. Adorned in a white button up and slacks. 

It's Will. 

Once the gate opens fully, his daughter runs to him. He sets his plastic baggie filled with his stuff on the ground. 

He opens his arms. She stops running right as she goes to hug him, so she doesn’t crash into him. Sam hugs her back, tightly. 

He picks her up off the ground— and her legs fly up like they used to do when she was a little girl. 

He sets her back down and kisses her forehead. 

“Welcome back, Dad.” She smiles at him. 

“It’s good to be back.” He smiles back at her. He pulls her into a hug again. 

Over her shoulder, he makes eye contact with Will. 

Sam lets go of Sarah, looking at her. He mouths ‘give me a minute’. 

Will doesn’t move from his spot. He doesn’t want to infiltrate the family bubble. He let’s Sam come to him. 

“You stayed out of trouble,” Will puts a hand out. 

“Getting into trouble is what I do for a living, Will.” He grabs Will’s hand. Pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you.” Sam says, patting his shoulder. 

“You saved my life first, Fisher. It’s the least I could do.” 

“Dad, we should celebrate.” Sarah appears next to him. She hugs him from the side. Sam wraps an arm over her shoulders. 

“What were you thinking?” Sam asks. 

“A barbecue.” She says without missing a beat. “I already bought all of the meat and side dishes… Will, you wanna join us?” 

“Oh… no, no, you two should just spend time together. I just came to make sure your father got out okay.” 

Sarah looks up at her dad. 

“It’s no issue.” Sam says. “I- We would like you to come... If you’re not busy that is.” 

Will looks at Sam, then at Sarah, then Sam again. 

“Uh, yeah- okay,” 

“Great! We’ll meet you there.” She says. “I gotta talk to my dad real quick.” 

“I’ll follow you guys to your house.” 

“Sure. Now go away, Redding.” 

“You're giving him mixed signals.” Sam looks down at her. 

They watch as Will walks over to his car. The same one he had when Sam first paid him a visit. The red Toyota. 

“He’s cute,” Sarah says. 

“What?” 

“You heard me,”

”You’re also half his age.” 

“Uh no, i wasn't thinking for me.” She pokes her dad in the ribs. 

“Get in the car before I ground you.” 

“You can’t ground me, I’m twenty-two.” 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, young lady.” 

“Ugh, I know you have a thing for brunettes, Dad. Look at mom-“ 

“Your mother was a very pretty lady. Her hair color had nothing to do with it.” 

“Oh, please.” Sarah is chuckling.

Sam can’t help but hug her tighter as he walks her around to the passenger side of the truck. 

Will sits in his sedan, watching them smile and laugh. Saying things he can’t hear. (And Sam’s thankful for that.)

Sam turns the truck on.

He honks for Will to follow them as they exit the parking lot. 

Sarah pops in a CD. Since she’s starting her own little collection like her dad. She picks out one of No Doubt’s albums. Tragic Kingdom. 

She sings along until Just a Girl plays. 

At a stoplight, Sarah catches her dad looking at her. 

She lowers the radio. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. You just look… older, that’s all. In a good way.” 

The light turns green as she laughs at his comment. “I saw you a few weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.” 

True. But it doesn’t change Sam’s mind. 

“Sarah… Did I ever tell you why I joined Doug in the first place?” 

“No, you didn’t.” Sarah twirls a bit of her hair in her fingers. “But I heard why at the trial, remember?” 

“Oh, that’s right…” Sam looks in the rear view mirror. Still seeing Will behind them. “You’re not… upset?” 

“Why would I be? You did it for mom.” 

Sam’s heart sinks at the mention of it. 

He’s keenly aware that Sarah’s eyes are on him. But he doesn’t look back at her. He keeps his eyes on the road.

The afternoon sun burns his eyes, he’s squinting, but he could care less.

He turns the corner, into their house. 

He’s thought about this moment for a long time.

But there’s something he feels he needs to say first. 

Him and Regan had been divorced for nine— maybe ten years when she got diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Sam still remembers getting the call from Regan detailing what she had been told by her doctor. 

She had a year to live. She wasn’t even supposed to see the turn of the millennium… but she’s a fighter. And maybe Grecco’s money and connections had something to do with it too.

“I promised myself that I would make up for the time that I was absent in your life… and then I go and do something like this.”

“Dad-“

“Three years I could have had with you… gone. Because of my desperate attempt to save your mother.” 

Because I couldn’t face the truth. Because I felt guilty for our failed marriage— he doesn’t say. 

Because I still loved your mother. But I think Sarah knew that, somehow. 

“Dad, come on-“ She looks out the window. At their house. The one they moved in after her mother died. “You’re out now. We're about to have dinner in the house together. There’s really no point in beating yourself up about it… You just wanted to save Mom. You don’t think I would of done the same thing if I could? No matter what it cost?” 

Sam finally looks at her. She’s the splitting image of her mother, the only difference is that her black hair and green eyes are Sam’s.

He reaches out to brush her hair out of her face. 

He’ll never have Regan back. He’ll never have the lost time with Sarah back. There’s a ton of things still floating in his head. Regrets. Things left unspoken. 

But by god, he can’t mess up this time. 

“Let’s just go inside and have a fun time, okay? Before Will changes his mind about joining us for dinner.” 

Sam chuckles. “Alright,” 

Sarah starts getting out of the truck. 

“And Dad?” She holds the door open. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m proud of you.” She shuts the car door.