| Title: Spring after Winter (and other such miracles) Sequel to: The Absence of Reason and For I can no longer call you lover Author: Missy Samwise Archived? Yes, anywhere Rating: R Pairing: F/S Category: angst, h/c, happy ending Summery: The last part in my first Frodo/Sam series, in which relief is found and reunions are wept over. Feedback: PLEASE!!! ___________________________ Frodo tossed restlessly in his soft feather bed that felt to him like a block of cement. The silky bed sheets against his fevered skin were light blue, matching the thick carpet which was also blue, the whole rest of the room covered wall to wall in beautifully coordinated hues of one color; lavender, sky, sea, midnight. The soft, unobtrusive way the moonlight sighed across the floor seemed unbearable for Frodo to look at; it reminded him that he was living through another night in a peaceful, quiet, empty Hell. When he first set foot in the amazing land of the Havens, it looked to live up to it's title. Everywhere were the light colors of spring, the air smelled of life and peace and rest, the grass under him was wet with the dew of a seemingly eternal dawn. But even the Havens had its own personal night. As the days went on, the lands became less and less of a Haven and more and more of a burden. At nights he dreamed, terrible, dark, guilt ridden dreams that clutched at him mercilessly. And they always centered around Sam. IN his dreams Sam was covered in blood, and Frodo knew it was his own fault. Sam reached up a hand desperately but he did not return his. Sam cried out for help but he turned his back. Tonight he had had the worst dream of all. He saw Sam turn the knife inward upon himself, Frodo watching and knowing it was his fault, and could not sleep for the dreadful image inside his mind. In an attempt to calm himself he tried to call up images of his beloved from better days. Sam, kneeling on the soft earth, giving such tender care to his roses and daisies and carrots. Those few dark weeks after the War of the Ring, when he had midnight visions and nightmares of rings of fire and silent, invisible beings....Sam would hold him close and remind him he was home and safe... And he was right; Frodo *was* at home in his Sam's understanding, forgiving arms. He belonged there. Frodo closed his eyes and sighed. Sam was the only real haven from the world he had ever known. ***** Frodo was not alone in his suffering; back in BagEnd insomnia also gripped Sam. No longer able to bring himseld to sleep next to Rosie, he lay silently on the narrow couch in the living area, staring morbidly at the wall. Rosie had found out about his cutting that morning, getting an accidental peek at the white bandages on his arm. She bothered him for hours to get some help, to tell someone, to see someone, to *talk* to her but he would have none of it and finally retreated to one of the bathrooms where he locked the door and swallowed just enough sleeping pills to put him out for a day or so. He didn't dream.... When he woke up on the cold tiled floor, his head was still heavy and groggy, it was 11 PM and Rosie had went to bed. Looking in he saw that her face was still puffy from crying. He had decided (if not entirely of his own accord) to sleep on the couch tonight... Looking away from the wall, Sam glanced longingly toward the open door of the bathroom and the bottle of sleeping pills.. Familiar feelings of shame welled up inside him but he kept his eyes glued, sinful thoughts fluttering though his head aimlessly. Rose was ashamed of him, he knew it. How could anyone possibly not be, him being so horrible and unworthy of even the slightest affectionate glance or touch. He had no desire to cut...surprisingly. When he usually made it to this highly coveted level of pain his arm would take over again and he would bleed it out of himself. But this time...at this point he was beyond pain and had passed into the elation of the damned who have finally found the way out of Hell. Now to just go through with it.... |