A/N: Happy new year fellow RB fans.

This brief one-shot was written mostly in the dark.

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." - Albert Einstein

There's a good twenty minutes where Sam mulls over possibilities...what the hell kinda circumstances might have led to his senses being invaded by dull light and hospital stench.

The smell is familiar, actually. Now that he's becoming overly aware of it.

Chlorexidine.

Or whatever other godforsaken ingredient it is in disinfectant that's alcohol-based.

It's the kind his mother used to use in the bathroom...and kitchen. Other rooms too.

(It was possibly the only thing that replaced the smell of vomit and blood -

Long nights and early mornings of his father's commiseratory moods).

Sam figures eventually that the dull light may be because his eyes are still closed.

He blinks once.

Tight.

Nope. No cigar. It doesn't feel like his 'lids will be opening any day soon.

His eyeballs are dryer than the stale loaf of bread Ollie took out into the wilderness that time.

("Lavender tea flavour 'n all!" Shaw squawked, waving the off-oval-shape in front of Diaz. "Works a treat on migraines..." Half a mouthful of the damn thing was being chewed on by the time Sam's good buddy had turned to wink at him. "So I've been told.")

Sam bites into his lip now. Or at least he thinks he does. (Every part of his being feels different to...before).

The memory of that night in the Ollery cabin stirs something deep...

Deep.

He breathes out.

It'd hurt, but the ache is being relieved by the soft, soft flesh of a hand that his own sweaty palm just squeezed.

He breathes again. Gentle and real slow this time around.

Smells a scent prettier than the one wafting moments ago.

Fruity and sweet this one is...with an undercurrent of a spice that's neither of those things.

He used to try and guess...

(She'd never disclose what it was. "Gotta be some mystery left about me, Sam.")

He wants to bury his nose in it now.

Mouth too.

His whole being. He'd bury it all in there. Search and search...

And search.

Sam starts making a mental list to do. Searching with, and for her, goes at the top.

He presses his palm down. Feels out the sharp knuckles he's missed more than he thought he would ever...ever miss anything in his life...

Ever.

He hears her then. Watery croaks and a couple of hiccups between. "Sam...Sam."

The determined hitch in her tone sends rips of warmth to a point below his chest.

His rib cage (and everything beneath it) burns.

In a good way.

A really good way.

He remembers then. Remembers how they got...

How he got here.

For the second time in Sam's memory of recent events, his life replays on the front door of his brain.

As before, much of it is a blur. Dark and spiral.

But in between all of that...

Vivid - practically neon - light winds it's way around too.

Squeezes through any gap.

Not as distant, those memories. The most precious splinters of Sam's past don't feel out of reach at all...

Bright laughter...

With a few snorts as well.

He opens his mouth. Takes another breath...

It kinda feels like there's quicksand down there.

(That's what it felt like before. Those other times. Those times he tried to tell her...

Everything).

And then Sam remembers what else.

'You're my story, Sam...

You'.

Sam remembers the second he chose to start living life.

The quicksand dissolves.

He licks his lips, tastes the salt of a tear she just dropped.

He pushes everything that's within him hard...panicked that pride might overtake what's important again.

"Sam..." Her hand twists to a point the fingers lock into his.

"Andy..." He breathes out, clear as he can. He wants to make sure she hears every letter of the word.

His eyes open, painful and slow.

Dull light starts to form shapes.

The first thing he sees is the foot of his bed. Lumps under a blanket he assumes are his feet.

He finds his focus on them.

Thinks about boots.

Thinks about how it's probably a good goal to start walking about barefoot sometimes.

Remembers the fetish he has for Andy's bare feet.

Decides they're going to walk in a park barefoot together real soon...

Puts a few other things on his list too -

"I'm here, Sam," she tells him - like it's an order. Presses the tip of her thumb into the meatiest part of his palm. "And I'm not going anywhere...unless it's with you." She's determined alright. If he was hanging over a cliff edge right now, he'd be in the best hands.

He blinks again.

Begins to make sense of color. Blues, greys, and white.

Trawls his eyes upward slowly...

So slow his legs actually seem pretty damn long.

When he gets to his hips he takes a sharp right. He's already spent way too many seconds looking down at himself.

He casts his eyes upward.

Then he sees her.

Lets himself revel in the color she adds to his world.

He settles his sight on her strong shoulders, before following the lines of her neck...

His body all of a sudden feels put together again.

Finally, he allows his gaze to drift to her face.

He remembers how grateful he was that it's features were the last that he saw.

Feels honored that they're also the first.

He studies her closely, his vision now unperturbed.

He sees the soft and hard, the sharp and the smooth. Sees the eyes that have given him the only home that ever made sense.

"Andy..." He manages again, throat slowly opening the rest of the way.

He thinks he even manages a smile. Something is changing on his face, that's for damn sure.

She leans forward, rests the hand that's not inside Sam's on his shoulder.

It's gentle, but firm.

Sam knows he is safe.

She gets in as close as she can from what he can tell - like if she doesn't, she might miss the rest. They're practically nose to nose...she's that far in.

He smiles some more. Conscious of other times he's tried to hold one of those back. "Best story..." he whispers, trying to reach his lips to the shell of her ear.

She's got a grin on her face as well. He can feel it.

Can also feel the shuffle of her body as she drags her chair in closer to the bed with her feet.

Her hair falls around him as her forehead tips down.

She nudges at his whole face with all of hers.

A couple more tears anoint both his cheeks.

"...Mine is you too..." He tells her, not so quiet any more. His heartbeat not as regular as it probably should be. He's fairly certain the wires attached to him are going to give him away. Not that it matters.

Not that it matters at all.

He knows now the only thing that does. Knows she is his life. "Always, Andy."