Chapter Text
My name is Sam Brown. I am an Aquarius and my birthday is February 17th. I am 25 years old and I grew up in New York City. Brooklyn.
My name is Sam Brown. I am an Aquarius. I am 25 years old and I grew up in Brooklyn.
My name is Sam Brown.
My name is Sam Brown.
My name is Sam Brown.
My name is not Sam Brown.
“Sam?” a voice called, and Sam lifted her head without thought. She had known it was Mallory just from the clicking of her heels, but the whiny way she drew out the a in Sam was just as much of a giveaway.
“Yes, boss?” Sam asked, dully. She felt as if the fog of her mind was taking over every aspect of her very boring life. Sam added the unnecessarily cranky “boss” because she knew that Mallory hated it, but being reminded that this person controlled her 8 hours a day made Sam almost as angry as it made Mallory.
“You put in a time off request for the 4th?” Mallory asked.
“Yes. I have a doctor’s appointment. Will you need a doctor’s note to approve the PTO?”
Mallory shifted her legs and crossed her arms, which made a scraping noise against her overly starched button-down.
“What are you seeing the doctor for?” she asked as she continued to chew her stupid nicotine gum.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to ask me that.”
Mallory sighed. She did that a lot.
“Well, like, is it important?” She asked, again shifting her feet.
“Yes. It’s important. That’s why I asked for the time off.”
“You take a lot of time off for doctor’s appointments,” Mallory said. Sam knew this game. She played it all the time.
“Yes, I suppose I do. Is that a problem? It’s my PTO, right? At my discretion?”
“Ugh. I know. I’m just asking why .” Mallory complained. Sam could see the anger there. But underneath the disdain, she saw curiosity. Her radar went up, well rather, it went into high gear. It was up the second Mallory’s clicking heels came within 20 feet of her.
“Employees are under no obligation to their employer to disclose personal medical conditions or disabilities unless they are making reasonable accommodation requests.”
Mallory rolled her eyes, which was another thing she did a lot.
“I can’t approve this,” she said.
“Okay,” Sam responded.
“If you don’t show up, you’ll get an attendance strike on your record,” Mallory pointed out. Sam could have argued with her, but was it worth it? “Of course it is. You need money to live,” One part of Sam's brain said “Burn the place to the ground,” said the other. She put on her happiest corporate bullcrap face.
“Okay. Can you email me that information?”
Mallory huffed. Was she bluffing? Sam couldn't remember this part of the employee handbook. She should have studied it more thoroughly, but she had a lot on her plate when she got the job, like learning her name for one.
“I will be gone on the morning of the 4th. I’ll make sure to bring a doctor’s note. It’s five, so I’m going home.” Sam didn’t ask anymore if she could go home, not with Mallory. She would always find a reason to force Sam to stay, and no matter how much she could use the overtime pay, 8 hours a day was too much of her life to be giving to this soul-sucking company, especially when she'd already given so much away.
Sam stood up to leave and she could tell Mallory was fuming. She wanted something. Some information? About where I go when I’m off work? About my supposed medical conditions? Who knows. Is she truly just nosy, or is she a threat? Sam wondered idly as she pushed the button to the lobby. I should definitely tell Tim at my appointment. Sam smiled softly. For the first time in weeks, she was looking forward to something. The fourth couldn’t get here soon enough.
When the fourth finally did show up, Sam packed her purse with every important thing she had left. The few small mementos that so far she'd been able to keep track of sat snuggly, almost too snuggly and she began to worry the bag might break. I wonder if Mallory will blow her lid when I disappear. Then Sam corrected herself If I disappear. It’d been almost 2 years since the last time it happened. Some part of Sam was used to it here and wouldn’t mind staying. The other part, the one she thought may be broken, thrilled at the idea of running away. She imagined starting over and, blushing madly, wondered how much of her desire to flee was related to the man who helped her do it. But then Sam sighed.
She knew what would happen today. She’d meet up with Tim, they’d chat for about an hour, and then her lackluster life would continue. Sam Brown would stay Sam Brown. Boring Sam Brown with a boring name and boring life. Safe Sam Brown, Tim would argue, and so she tried to remind herself that safety often looked like boredom for those who have suffered traumatic upbringings. It didn’t make her feel any better.
Sam walked over to the mirror again, checking her outfit for defects. She has had a very distinct style before, one cultivated from years of learning what suited her. She had taken pride in her outfits and had loved her look. But now… She pulled her white band tee down, then back up, then down again. Then she slipped a black zip-up on and turned so she can see the back of her jeans. At least there is that. Her butt looks fantastic.
Sam checked the clock and immediately realized she was- as usual- running late. Grabbing the bag full of memories, crammed with wallet, phone, and keys in a side pocket, she made her way to the doctor’s office.
The office was like any other office. The TV played kids shows and there were fish swimming around in an aquarium. Sam watched the fish swim around the perimeter. The beta smacked himself against the glass a few times and she found herself relating. He’s just as trapped as I am. She thought ruefully, But then, I guess, I have no one to blame but myself . A nurse in salmon scrubs and a high ponytail came out of the side door.
“Sam Brown?” The nurse asked. My name is Sam Brown. She stood up and walked towards the nurse.
“Follow me.” Nurse Mave said, like I’m a normal patient. Sam’s brain supplied. Who knows, to her I may be. She went through the motions, stood on the scale, let the nurse take all her vitals.
“How tall are you?” Mave asked.
“5’ 4”” Sam respond. The nurse jotted it down. Everything feels weird here. How normal this all seems when in reality I don’t experience normal anymore. She directed Sam into a room and said the doctor would be with her in a minute. Sam waited until the door clicked open, then turned to look. There he was.
“Hey, Sam.” Tim said happily, and all of a sudden Sam felt like she could breathe again. She had missed him. He was wearing a lab coat which Sam always found funny, especially when she knew he had a gun and a badge hidden away behind it. Instead of taking the chair at the desk, he walked over and sat in the chair next to Sam.
“So, how are you? Anything to report?” Tim asked.
“Umm, I’ve been having vivid dreams about killing my boss. Is that important?” Sam joked. Tim smiled one of his very rare smiles and Sam felt her insides go a little warm.
“Mallory again?” Even though Sam knew it was his job to protect her, and that meant knowing the people in her life, it made her feel a bit happy that he knew it without having to reference any paperwork.
“She’s insufferable!” Sam blurted with a laugh, “I swear she lives to ruin my life.”
They chatted for a bit, light stuff, like normal, until he sighed and said,
“We should probably get to it, huh?” And Sam groaned.
“Do we have to?” She asked.
“It’s for your-”
“For my safety. I know I know.” She brushed her hair away from my eyes and took a few deep breaths in.
“Alright let’s go.” She said.
Then he started asking questions. Every moment Sam remembered, every interaction, no matter how simple. Names, faces, anything about anyone she talked to. This is better. I get to walk around and have a life outside of a single room. Sam reminded herself. No armed guard watching my every move. And yet… it’s not my life; Its Sam’s.
The questions kept going. The same ones he always asked, until…
“How about dates?” At this, Sam's head shot up.
“Sorry?”
“Have you gone on any dates in the last month or been seeing anyone new?” Tim clarified, but the question feels no clearer. Tim cast his eyes down and his hands drummed over his notebook nervously.
“Uhhh... I… Well, I was under the impression that I wasn’t allowed to pursue a relationship.” Sam stated.
“Officially speaking, we can’t stop you.” He said. His voice sounded different. Strained in a way she'd never heard before.
“Oh. Okay, well, the answer is no. Are you, are you saying I am free to date then?” Sam felt somewhat surprised by this line of questioning. He knew everything about her, surely he would know she had zero interest in the people around her?
“Obviously, we’d need you to report as soon as possible any relationship you have. We’d need to vet them, you understand.” Oh. Now she understood his question.
“So I’m allowed to date, but first I have to get Big Brother's blessing?”
Tim coughed a bit, but it was clearly to hide a laugh, which of course did nothing to hide his smile.
“Yeah… something like that.” He said.
“Okay… good to know. And I just call and say what exactly? Hey I have a date with a hot football coach, can you make sure he’s not secretly triad and trying to kill me?” Sam said in disbelief. She couldn’t imagine that anyone in her situation would feel safe enough to date ever again.
“Well about that, actually. You’ve been approved for a direct line.” Tim said.
“Really? I thought you only gave those out to lifers?”
The smile on his face disappeared.
“Oh.” Sam's world stopped spinning for a minute as reality hit her. I’m going to be Sam Brown forever.
“Sam... You always have the choice to leave the program.” Tim said, but Sam could see the pain in his voice as he said it.
“Not much of a choice, really. If I leave, my life is in danger.” Sam shook her head.
Without warning, Tim grabbed her hand.
“Lu-” he cut himself off, before starting again. “Look. I know it’s hard. I wish I could say otherwise, but you will start to feel like yourself again.”
“It’s been 4 years, ”
“I know. So I’m going to ask you again, like always.” He took an unsteady breath, “Sam, do you want to leave the witness protection program?” She met his eyes and considered, knowing before she even made the choice what she was going to say.
“No. I do not.” She meet his blue eyes and in them saw a deep sadness that she was sure was mirrored within her own. Tim sighed, then took a deep breath, as if he too had stopped breathing for a moment.
“Okay. Then give me your phone. I’ll set up your direct line.” Sam handed him her phone.
“Direct line means like your phone number?” she asked, hopefully. In the past, she’d had to call the agency which then dispatched her case manager.
“Not exactly.” He said, downloading a game to her phone. He clicked a few things and prompted her to make a profile. She did, then handed the phone back. He clicked around a bit more, then pulled out his own phone and started tapping away.
“Okay, you’re all set up. I’m TFP.exe and once you accept my PM request we can communicate via the chat feature on this app.”
“TFP.exe?” She asked, amused.
“Yeah, I know. It’s not like I can use my real name. I had to pick something that blended with other usernames on the server.”
“What does TFP stand for?” It has to be Tim… something, but she didn't know the something.
Tim, wisely, didn’t answer.
“So, I can just message you whenever something goes wrong? I don’t have to reach out to the agency and set up a meet?”
“I would still reach out to the agency when you need anything specific, this is just,” he started, and the look on his face told Sam that maybe there was more he wanted to say, but then he blinked and the look was gone, “You can contact me whenever you need to, okay?” Sam wondered if he was trying to convey something that she wasn’t picking up on, but she figured if it was important enough to say, he would just say it.
“So, is that all then? I’m free to go? No disappearing act this time?” the words were meant as a joke, but they came out strained.
There was silence for a second then, softly, he asked,
“Lucy, do you want to disappear?” It was the first time she’d heard her name spoken in years.
“I already have.” She thought, and the words slipped out before she had a chance to come up with a better answer. His downturned expression softened and he pinched up his cheek in an apologetic half smile. Sam, or rather, Lucy saw, not for the first time, a kindness that no one else has ever shown her. Is this what care is supposed to feel like? She wondered to herself if she could ever find someone else who looked at her like that, someone with whom she can actually build a friendship. And then she wondered even if she did, could she ever feel safe enough to let them in?
“I'm sorry, you know, for my part in this.” Tim said, and Lucy prayed he wouldn't continue. If he did, she just might cry.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” She promised him. Lucy reached her hand out,not even exactly sure why, but part of her hoped… she wasn’t sure what she hoped for. Connection? Recognition? Anything to feel less alone.
He didn’t grab her hand. She dropped it. But as she went to turn, he stood up, walked over to her, and opened his arms. Lucy knew it was probably not professional, but was all too eager to accept his hug. It was only when she was with Tim that she felt safe enough to drop her “perfectly fine” facade. But the longer she was in the program, the less she saw him. What would happen when her check-ins went from monthly to quarterly? What would happen if he retired or got hurt? Maybe it was time she started putting down more permanent roots. Join a dating app or something. Even if the idea was terrifying. Even if she never could really date. A book club? Did Sam read? She supposed Sam did whatever Lucy wanted her to do… as long as it wasn’t the exact same as Lucy would have. Couldn’t be too similar, of course.
Suddenly, Lucy noticed she was crying, and that she’d been hugging Tim for too long. She let go and chuckled darkly. He gave her a tissue, almost as if he already had it ready to go.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized, grabbing the tissue and wiping away the evidence of her emotional vulnerability, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“Hey, you’re dealing with a lot right now, it’s allowed.” Tim sympathized, like crying over nothing was a normal reaction to a regular conversation. Lucy gathered up her things, and walked out the door. As it closed she heard him say,
“See you again soon, Lucy.”