The First Hour

By Tarrant

A/N This takes place after Sam leaves the VCTF/FBI.

Sam sat in the chair quietly observing Susan. The young girl was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up under her and her arms folded over her chest. Sam cleared her throat quietly and Susan glanced toward her briefly before putting her head down a bit and letting her hair slide over the side of her face.

After another ten minutes of quiet, Sam again cleared her throat quietly and softly said. "You know, I really don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me. It isn't like you know me or that you would just automatically know that you can trust me. After all, it wasn't your idea to come here in the first place, now was it?"

Susan glanced at Sam through her hair.

Sam persisted gently. "Tell you what. I'll talk to you for a while. First, you don't have to call me Dr. Waters. Personally, I hate that. It sounds so stuffy. Call me Sam, okay?"

Susan looked a little surprised but still said nothing. Sam hoped she was starting to make a break though but knew this was going to be a very long process.

Sam paused for a moment. Trying to decide what she would share with this young girl. "Hmmmm, lets see. I'm thirty-eight, grew up mostly in Maryland. I have a daughter. She's a little younger than you. I just moved back to Virginia this year from Atlanta and I love your red hair."

Susan moved her head and finally looked into Sam's face. "I hate my hair."

Sam raised an eyebrow briefly and then gave her a nonchalant look. "Too bad, it's really very beautiful on you."

"Yeah, well, what would you know?" Susan said under her breath.

Sam flinched a little. She hadn't meant to hit a sour subject so quickly and she realized she needed to stay away from appearance topics for now.

Trying to get back the flow, Sam said. "Anyway, I went to Wake Forrest. Worked for the FBI for a while and now here I am."

"Why'd you quit?" Susan asked, suddenly taking an interest in what Sam had been saying.

Sam blanched a bit. "I uh...It's a long story."

Susan leaned forward a little. "So is mine, you want to hear mine, I want to hear yours first."

Sam glanced at her watch. 'Damn, this could be a long fifteen minutes' she thought to herself. Sam stalled a little but Susan kept the heat on.

"Come on, you want me to trust you and tell you all my dirty little secrets but you aren't willing to do the same?"

"I'm just not sure that is appropriate."

Susan sat back and smirked at Sam. "Must be pretty good, to make you this uncomfortable."

Sam closed her eyes for a minute and then sighed. When she opened them she sat forward and looked Susan directly in the eye. "I don't appreciate your humor. And I don't believe for one minute that you think anything tragic that happens to another person makes a good story. If you did, you wouldn't have trouble opening up to me and telling me what happened to you. I left the FBI because my daughter needed my attention. And I am here to help you because a very dear friend asked me too."

"I didn't ask you too." Susan said hostilely.

Sam sat back and brushed her hand through her hair. Then softly she nodded. "I know." She went quiet again; disappointed. She felt like they were back at square one and Susan wasn't a bit closer to trusting her than she was almost an hour ago.

The timer besides Sam's chair dinged and Sam glared at it for a moment and then sighed. "Okay Susan, guess we try again tomorrow."

Susan got up off the couch and started for the door. She had her hand on the handle when she turned around. She hesitated for a bit and then said. "Sam, I hope you have a lot of patience."

Sam's back was still toward Susan but she smiled a little to herself. Then she turned and looked at Susan. "I waited seven years to get the man that killed my husband, Susan. Believe me, I have all the patience you will ever need me too."

Susan looked at Sam for a moment and then gave her a small nod. "Later, Sam." She said as she drew open the door and disappeared through it.

Sam sat in the chair and absorbed the conversation. After a while the phone on the desk began to ring.

"Samantha Waters." She said as she snatched it up.

"Did you get anywhere with her?" Sam smiled to herself at the sound of Bailey's warm voice.

"Maybe, I got her to call me Sam." She said as she collapsed into the chair behind the desk.

"Well, that's progress; she wouldn't talk to any of us, much less use our names." He said with a little hope in his voice.

Sam smiled a little. "So Bailey, you couldn't send me a bed wetter to start off my new counseling practice?"

Bailey snorted a bit. "Bed wetters don't typically set their beds on fire, Sam."

Sam frowned a bit to herself. "No, they don't."

"She needs your special brand of help Sam. She needs your compassion and your gift of insight."

"I hope I can help her Bailey. I have a funny feeling that she is going to become more than a patient." Sam said.

"That's because you use your heart as well as your head to help people. I think you are just what she needs." Bailey paused for a moment and Sam could hear someone talking in the background.

"Sam, I have to go. Keep trying, okay. I'll talk to you soon." And just like that, he was gone.