Title: Antidote
Summary: After being fired for helping a criminal escape, Sam found herself depressed and angry. This could never happen again, she thought, and to make sure it DIDN'T happen again, she would fight them until she was sure they'd NEVER get back up again.
Rating: T? M for Murder? I'm not sure yet but I'm positive you all can handle dead bodies. If not I'll warn you in advance.
Pairing: Scam/Sam

They hated her…

But it was, it was just a onetime thing—a fluke, a mistake, an attempt to give someone else another chance at life—

They only shook their heads when she explained this to them. They didn't understand. Evident by their glares, the hatred spewing from their mouths, the perverse words exiting their lips.

They hated her.

The rest of it happened in such a blur that even she had a hard time remembering the exact events. All she could remember were their glares—

Brittany sighed softly, slowly looking away from her…

Their anger—

Clover glared at her from the corner of her eye, not bothering to even look at her, the girl she called a best friend…

Their shock—

Jerry's face scrunched up into one of disappointment as his old eyes rested upon his once-favorite spy.

The world felt numb now, like a silent chill had passed over everyone but only encased her in its painful grip. Her eyes were stinging, aching from the tears she had shed to prove her loyalty to them, but they didn't care.

The air stopped around her, and it seemed time had as well. The cars may have been moving but she couldn't hear them. She only felt herself, her heart dropping down to her stomach, ricocheting in her intestines and tugging at her, pulling her down, deeper into a depression she couldn't help but succumb to.

No one trusted her anymore… No one. No Clover or Alex to tell secrets to, no Brittany to laugh at jokes with, no Jerry to look up to as a father-figure… And her parents…

Well her parents were gone from her life. Long gone, leaving her alone in a world that did not know the meaning of "family".

She looked up, slowly recognizing the door of the house she lived in—used to live in. Frowning, she looked down. Of course they wouldn't let her live here, with them. Either they moved out or they stayed in, and it wasn't fair tear something that they rightfully owned. After all, good citizens were supposed to own nice homes and live in nice places, not villains, not accomplices to murderers.

She quietly opened the door, inserting the key inside for the last time, and went inside. Looking around the memory-filled apartment she felt her heart clenching, as if someone took her heart into her hand and starting to lightly crush it, their fingers slipping against the blood around her weakened heart, clenching it, grabbing it, forcing it to drop down. All she could do in response was gulp, trying to satisfy the aching in her chest but it wasn't going away!

… Nothing would make it go away.

She slowly walked up to her room, her padded feet softly rubbing against the smooth wooden steps without friction, and opened her door, looking around at the tidy area. A soft smile came to her face when she remembered how Clover and Alex had caught her room as a messy place, effectively pointing out that she was a hypocrite for telling them to clean their rooms when she didn't even clean hers.

But the smile died away when she remembered how he was partially the cause of them finding out. If they hadn't gone on that mission that day… maybe then they wouldn't have barged into her room and next time she would have to be extra careful—

Wait. There was no next time.

The smile died from her face, the clenching feeling in her heart returned, and she resumed cleaning up her room.

Half an hour later the luggage was packed, her clothes neatly tidied up, and her money and personal belongings all together in a bag. She looked around the room, seeing a bare bed with an empty dresser, a blank mirror and stripped walls.

Nothing was left.

Her heart tugged at her again when she saw the photo frame smashed to the ground. She couldn't bear to see their faces again, not after this…

Besides, they probably didn't want any memory of her anyway.

She grabbed the heavy suitcases with her hand, the bars tightening under her grip, and she sighed as she hung her shoulder bag over her shoulders and resumed to walk out before they could walk in and see her leaving.

Wouldn't they stop her? Weren't they her friends, wasn't that what they were supposed to do?

No. She thought quietly as she moved down the stairs. They didn't regard her as a friend, so she supposed she couldn't do so either.

In minutes the years she had spent here would disappear, and any future plans she had hoped to have would have to be crushed.

She had a new life to build. One of solitude, of disappointment, of loneliness because she never wanted to feel this pain again. The pain of her heart slowing down as she walked away from the people she had trusted. The pain of her mind crumbling to dust as she removed the memories she wanted to keep. The pain of her friends abandoning her when she needed them the most.

They were best friends forever weren't they?

So why weren't they acting like it? Sure she had made a mistake but didn't everybody? Why should she be punished so severely for doing something her heart told her was right?

The tears started again, blurring up her vision as she hastily put the luggage in the trunk of her car, putting the other large suitcase in the backseat because it wouldn't fit; of course it wouldn't fit there were too many memories, too many things to sacrifice.

She roughly wiped away at her eyes before entering the driver's seat. She adjusted the rearview mirror to take a last glimpse at her home—

No… It was their home now. She did not belong. Accomplices to criminals did not belong.

She re-adjusted the mirror before plugging the key into the ignition and starting up the car. For now a hotel would have do; she didn't have enough time to get an apartment—

Crap. How was she going to pay for an apartment? She had enough money saved for a hotel… but an apartment needed the first month of rent, plus the one month security and then the payment to the owner and—

Dammit. She thought, letting her head rest on the wheel of the car. She couldn't ask her parents for money now; they would ask her why she wasn't with Clover and Alex; what happened; did they have a fight?

And she didn't have the answers to those questions right now, at least, not any answers that were acceptable.

Now she was going to be homeless… she could only stay in a hotel for so long and dammit. This was his fault! If he hadn't hurt himself and gave WOOHP an easy capture… if her soul wasn't so forgiving, if her heart didn't still feel that tug every time he was near her.

Her hand curled into a fist at her thoughts. This was unacceptable. As a WOOHP agent—

"You're fired, Samantha", Jerry said with a frown, his tone disapproving but telling her he didn't want to do this but he had no choice.

… As a … as a human being, she should have known right from wrong. She should have done the right thing, (but it wasn't the right thing to do, her mind whispered), and given Scam's unconscious body to WOOHP instead of hiding away, making sure he felt better because no one should be targeted when they're down…

He wasn't feeling well. Were they really supposed to take advantage of that?

This isn't fair! She thought again with blurry, stinging eyes, her breath shaky. She quickly put the car into gear before pressing the gas pedal and merging into the rush hour traffic; at least now her car would be unrecognizable with all the other red cars on the street.

How could WOOHP blame her, HER, when it fact it was their own incompetence for not catching Scam? How dare they ask her, their best agent, to sacrifice her morals and do what's wrong instead of what's right?

And, she thought furiously, her mind changing her depression into anger and focusing on everyone else but her, how dare she feel bad for Scam? He was her enemy, the man who tried to kill her multiple times! She should be angry at him, not at WOOHP, (but she knew deep down that ideal was switched. She was angry at WOOHP and could never be angry at Scam for reasons that she still didn't understand… didn't want to understand), but here she was, angry at herself.

Because… she was to blame for what happened wasn't she? She was the one who betrayed WOOHP. She was the one who took pity on Scam and hide him until he felt better. She was the one who picked morals over the battle between good and evil, between WOOHP and criminals, between Jerry, (her friends…) and Scam.

She was lucky they didn't arrest her.

She heard yelling outside and saw three bank robbers (in black jumpsuits, the ski masks and the works) running from a bank with bags of money in their hands. Apparently the rush hour traffic was surprising to them, (such stupid idiots, she sourly thought), and they were arguing with each other on which way to go.

The need to stop her car in the middle of the street was tempting. She could go up there and kick their asses into next week! She could, and if she got in trouble with the cops she could always just pull out her badge and…

Oh. Right.

She had no badge. It was stripped away because she had to help criminals like him, like them.

Well… it was never going to happen again, she thought with a scowl on her face. If she couldn't fight evil then the least she could do was not help evil grow more and more…

No more "Scam" instances.

No, never again.

She would never make this mistake again, the mistake of picking her heart over her head, of picking irrationality over rationality, of picking Scam over WOOHP.

No. Never. Again.

Her hand was tightly gripping the gear shift, it still being on "drive" and although she knew she should have parked and let the police handle this, (this place was going to be a crowded mess and getting out of here quickly didn't look like an option), she couldn't help but keep it on drive.

Something told her things were about to get interesting… ominous, but interesting.

Besides, what else did she have to lose?

She kept her trained eyes on the three crooks in front of her, watching the fools argue as the police neared by closer and closer and—

Crap, she thought as one of them took out a gun, aiming for a random civilian as a police officer aimed his gun at the robber.

No… he was going to shoot; she could feel it, because as incompetent as the robbers seemed to be, they apparently didn't have anything to lose either.

They were going to do down with a fight, taking everyone they could down with them.

She couldn't let that happen because WOOHP agent or not, she was supposed to stand up for the people who couldn't risk their lives like she could.

Her hand gripped the steering wheel. She was never going to make the mistake of letting a criminal roam free ever again, she promised herself, and she knew she would do anything to keep that promise.

Even if it meant pressing the gas pedal with full speed and crushing the robber, making him drop his gun and hopefully injuring him for life.

Because that way she would be insuring her promise. He would never roam free again and she would never have to worry about him getting out. If you're dead, you can't ever hope to have a second chance to do whatever it is you wish to do, unlike in a jail cell where people like Scam could get out easily, could easily give her another chance to fuck up and destroy everything she had built.

It was never going to happen. She would fight them until they went down and then she would insure they stayed down.

She had nothing to lose, after all.

Tada! That, my dear friends, is the beginning of Antidote (credits to Cresenta's Lark for the title). I know I have multiple stories but I really wanted to write, and writing this was easy and fun and muahahhaahaa-ish. I will … TRY to plan this out so writer's block never hits me. And Cresenta, please take this as a "welcome back to the world of the Internet" gift.

I'm taking advantage of the fact that I have time to write while I can. Spring Break is still on for a few more days. :)

Please review! I want your opinion on this! Chapter 2 will be up… as soon as I write it.

Love,
Ivy