Work Text:
Valerie had dragged Samson out of the apartment that morning, wanting to…
… to…
… there was something she was forgetting, wasn’t there?
Valerie took a shaky step forward, hands clutched to her abdomen.
There was…
Samson loved fresh fruit. She was taking him to the farmers’ market, and– and–
She lifted her hands and saw that they were stained red with blood.
Blood…
She remembered now.
They’d been on their way to the farmers market when Valerie noticed the glint of something metal and–
She’d been shot.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Valerie felt her knees buckle underneath her. It was like she couldn’t breathe.
Shock.
She was going into shock. From the blood-loss.
Samson was trying to say something, but his voice was fuzzy in her ears. She wanted to tell him what to do, how to help her, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the right words.
Her vision soon faded to black.
***
Valerie was going to die .
Valerie was going to die , and it was all Samson’s fault!
He should have known one of Mr. Shadwell’s guys were gonna come after him eventually - he hadn’t done a good enough job of hiding, because he’d been preoccupied with the nice woman who’d saved his life - but he never thought they might try to hurt Valerie. He shoulda realized this would happen; he was a bad man, and he got Valerie hurt .
“Miss Valerie?” Samson crouched down at her side. Valerie was a lot smaller than him, but he hadn’t realised until then just how small she really was. “Miss Valerie, you’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna help you.”
There was a lot of blood. Samson put a hand to where the blood was coming from, trying to keep as much of it inside as he could. He didn’t know what to do. He’d always been the one hurting people, not fixing them.
Valerie had shown him how to do CPR a few weeks back, and Samson knew that could help if someone was really badly hurt and their heart stopped working. He tried to feel for a pulse, like Valerie showed him, but it was fuzzy and he wasn’t sure if he was even hearing anything at all.
She told him, if you did CPR right, it could break the person’s ribs. Samson really didn’t want to hurt Valerie, but if it could save her life, he would do it.
He pushed down hard on Valerie’s chest, trying to keep to the rhythm in his head, like she taught him. Tries not to think about her fragile ribs and the way he can hear the bones crack and–
God, he’s hurting her, isn’t he?
He realised, distantly, that he was crying. Great streams of tears that run down both his cheeks. His chest was heaving, but he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, Valerie might have died. He couldn’t let that happen.
He still needed her.
He still–
He loved her, and–
Samson brought his hands down one final time.
Then, he was tackled to the ground.
Away from Valerie.
There was a police officer slapping handcuffs onto him, trying to read him his rights, but Samson didn’t care. He shouted over the officer, as loud as he could.
“She’s gonna die. You have to let me go. She’s gonna die. She’s my friend. Let me help. Let me help.”
It didn’t matter what Samson said. The police officer wouldn’t let him go.
Paramedics in dark blue uniforms showed up. Samson recognised the uniform. Valerie comes home late from her shifts and changes out of it, leaving the uniform in the laundry hamper for Samson to wash.
They came in an ambulance, and Samson really wanted to go with Valerie to the hospital.
He couldn’t though.
Because he was being shoved in the back of a police car.
Distantly, he wondered if this had been Mr. Shadwell’s plan this whole time.
Valerie dead, and Samson behind bars where he belonged.