I acknowledge that these characters are not mine, except those I made up, and I'm only borrowing them for a little while. I promise to return them in good shape!

I made some more minor changes to the story since it was posted.

Damsel in the Dress

By WritePassion

In one fluid movement, Sam threw the rod backwards high over his shoulder and flicked it forward with a snap. The line whirred softly as it unraveled from the reel and the lure landed out on the surf. The sun was rising over the waves, already proving that it would be another hot one today. He swiped a bead of perspiration that dribbled down past his brows before the saltiness could sting his eyes. Then he reeled in the line slowly, letting the bait get carried by the rushing water. A wave broke right in front of him and splashed his t-shirt with lukewarm saltwater. He smiled as the sea water crashed against his legs and the sand underneath covered his bare feet. There was nothing like an early morning fishing expedition along the coast, at a time when he shared the beach with only a couple of joggers and a hoard of seagulls. The birds circled above, screeching and hoping to catch whatever his line snagged. He chuckled under his breath and glanced up at them.

"Anybody tries anything, and they'll be sorry." Something splashed into the water nearby, and he glared at the bird circling above. "That means you too, bucko."

The birds squawked and carried on until they ruined the effects of the beautiful day, irritating Sam enough to give up. He hadn't caught a thing. With a heavy sigh, he reeled in his line, removed the bait, and threw it toward the sea. A gull swooped and caught it in midair.

"Oh, now you're just showing off! Damn birds!"

He slogged through the water and up to the hard packed sand where he kept his tackle box and sandals. With a sigh he donned his footwear and decided to try farther down the beach. Maybe he would have better luck somewhere else.

As he walked, he thought about Michael and wondered where he was. Several times over the course of three days he tried his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. Sam knew he was incommunicado on a mission for the CIA, but that wouldn't stop Sam from trying. Unfortunately, it irritated Fiona to no end, because Michael's cell was at the loft, and so was Fiona.

Maybe I should go over to the loft and help Fi with the painting. While Michael was gone, Fiona was taking advantage of the down time to repaint and continue to redecorate the loft. Sam shook his head as he imagined what Mikey's reaction would be when he returned. He probably wouldn't recognize the place anymore.

Before he got off two casts south of where he started, the birds were back with a vengeance. He shook his head and tried to ignore the intrusion. The line sailed gracefully over the waves and landed with a soft plop. The screeching rang in his ears, and he wished he could whip out one of Fi's Mac10s and take care of them all in a matter of seconds.

"Help!"

As he reeled in his line, Sam heard the cry, but he didn't know where it came from. The surf crashed, subduing another plea. "Someone, please...help me!"

He squinted at something out on a wave. It disappeared, then reappeared. It was an arm, with a hand stretched toward the sky. On the next crest, a head appeared, and the distressed voice cried out again. "Help!"

Sam dropped his prized fishing rod onto the sand, kicked off his sandals, and ran toward the surf. "I'm coming! Hang on!" He pushed through the water, and as it got deeper, every step took more effort. When it was too deep to stand, he swam. The waves were strong, but he also recognized that both he and the person in distress were being pulled out to sea in a strong rip current. He used this to his advantage to swim faster and get closer.

A wave curled over him and Sam came up sputtering. He rode the swell of another and looked around. His target was gone! He fought back against the rising tide of anxiety and when he saw the head come up again, he breathed out in relief. The face turned toward him. They were only a few yards apart now, and Sam could see it was a woman. Her blue eyes were wide in panic and her mouth open wide. Water sloshed into her mouth, and she gagged.

"Oh..." Another wave smashed over her. She popped up and gasped for air. "Please! Help!"

He spit out a mouthful of warm saltwater himself and grimaced at the taste. "I'm coming! Just...stay calm!" He was almost there, closing in. "Just float! Don't struggle, just float!"

She nodded and struggled to get on her back to ride the next wave. It tossed her onto her stomach, and that was where Sam caught her. The wave pushed her into him and they went under, rolling and twisting beneath the waterline. But he wasn't about to let go and lose her. He felt the tide pulling them back out, and he pushed them both to the surface.

They broke through and she coughed uncontrollably. "It's okay, I've got you. I've got you. Just relax, and I'll get you out of here."

She nodded but she was too stiff with fear and tried paddling. Her efforts only went against Sam's, and they got nowhere.

"Hey, don't move! Just let me do all the work, okay?"

"I-I'm s-scared."

"I promise...I won't let go of you! I know what I'm doing, I've been trained to rescue..." Another wave doused them and they came up sputtering. "I'll get you to dry land." He hoped the determination in his voice would be enough to settle her, and it seemed to work. She was quiet and relaxed in his grip.

Sam threaded his arm underneath hers and across her chest, and began side stroking on a parallel course with the beach. Each wave pushed them closer and closer to the sand, and eventually he was able to touch the bottom. It was a good thing, because he was getting tired, and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to hang onto her. With the last of his strength, he cradled her in his arms and pulled her up to the hard packed sand. He glanced around but there were no other people who might be able to assist. His breath came in short gasps as he picked her up and carried her away from the surf. His knees gave way, and he lay her on the beach as softly as he could.

He coughed up some more sea water. "Hey, you okay?" He removed his arm from behind her neck and realized that she wasn't breathing. Her lips were turning blue. With eyes wide, he curled his hand around to the place on her neck where her pulse thrummed, but it was weak.

Without another thought, he tilted her head back, pinched her nose shut, and fit his mouth over hers. He exhaled into her mouth, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her chest rise. She was fully clothed and it looked like she wore evening wear, which seemed odd. Sequins scattered across the bodice sparkled in the early morning sunlight as her chest fell with the expelled breath. He tried again. And again. Just when he thought that maybe she would never breathe on her own without professional medical attention, she sucked in a deep breath and coughed out a mouthful of water. She rolled to her side and expelled a good amount, then turned back to him.

Sam sat back on his heels as she reached out, grabbed his soaked t-shirt and hung on tightly while she tried to catch a good breath. He was used to women clawing at him, but not like this. "Hey, hey, lady! Just relax, you're gonna be okay."

She shook as if she were having a seizure, but her eyes were wide open and focused on him as she whispered, "I...I need help." She threw one of her arms over his shoulder and the other around his waist. "P-please, don't leave me."

He wrapped her in his arms and held her close. "I wasn't planning on it, not until I know you're okay." He pulled her into his lap. "We need to get you out of here. You're going into shock. Do you think you can stand?"

"I-I don't know."

"Let's try it, okay? Worst thing that happens is I carry you to my car. It's just up there." He jutted his chin toward the parking lot, or at least where he thought the parking lot was. "Damn. We must have drifted farther than I thought. Looks like I've got a hike."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "Just...just leave me here."

"No way, honey. Your in the safe keeping of Sam Axe, and I never, ever leave a man...or woman...behind." He grinned and winked at her.

She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Axe."

"What's your name?" Sam helped her sit. She teetered a little, so he supported her back. "Woah, let's give this a minute before you try anything."

She gingerly touched her left temple, where Sam noticed a bruise and a large bump forming. She winced and her brow crinkled. "H-how did this happen?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me. But why don't we start with your name?"

Her eyes locked on his, and he saw the panic behind them. "I-I can't remember! Sam, I can't remember my own name!"

"Do you remember where you're from?"

"No! It's...it's all gone!" She shook her head violently as her eyes filled with tears.

She spoke with a British accent that Sam suspected was tainted by many years living in the States. With a dress like that, she had to be wealthy, or knew someone who was. But none of that was important right now. First order of business was to get her calmed down. He gently grasped her arms and spoke to her with soothing tones. "It's okay, it's probably just temporary. That's quite a bump on the noggin there, so you probably have a concussion." He rose and held out his hands. "Let's see if you can stand up, okay? Nice and slow."

She nodded, took his hands with a strong grip, and he pulled her to her feet. Her legs were weak and rubbery, but his hands nearly circled her waist to keep her from falling. She was so petite, like Fiona, and in her present state, fragile.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."

"It's okay. I've got you, and I promise, I won't let you fall."

Tears flooded her eyes as she looked up at him. "Thank you, Sam, for being my rescuing angel." She teetered forward and her chin crashed into his chest as she crumbled. Good thing he'd seen her eyes roll, or they might have both landed in a heap on the sand. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to where his sandals and fishing gear still lay. Unsure of how he would retrieve his things and carry the woman, he looked around for a solution. A kid about twelve years old waded in the surf with his black lab dancing around in the waves.

Sam whistled, and the kid turned his attention to him. "Hey kid! You wanna make a couple bucks?"

"Sure, dude. What'dya want?" He ran and came close, saw the woman, and tilted his head toward her. "What's up with the lady?"

"Nothin' you need to worry about, kid. If you take my gear up to my car, I'll give you five bucks." Sam jerked his head toward the parking lot. "It's just up there."

The kid's mouth worked as he thought about it. Sam wished he'd hurry up, because the woman, although slight, was getting heavy.

"For ten I'll do it."

Sam rolled his eyes. If it weren't his new gear, he'd tell the kid where to stick it, but he relented. "Okay, just watch that line. It ain't cheap."

"Yeah, yeah. I know how to handle a rod like this. It's sweet." He grinned, carefully and methodically broke down the rod in seconds, and picked up the tackle box. "Okay, where do we go?"

The kid followed him up to the lot and stopped short of the trunk. He waited patiently while Sam opened the car and carefully place the unconscious woman in the front seat. After he opened the trunk and allowed the kid to put the gear inside, he quickly closed it before the boy could see the duffel bag full of C4 that Fiona left inside along with a couple high-powered rifles. The kid's eyes widened, and Sam knew he wasn't fast enough.

With a deep sigh, he fished out his wallet and gave him a twenty. "For twenty, you forget you saw me, the girl, and this car. Got it?"

"Oh yeah...I never saw a thing." The kid grinned, snapped the bill in his hands, turned on his heel and ran to the beach.

Sam got into the car and checked on his passenger. She was still out, and that bruise looked really nasty. He noted that a thin mark like a burn ran along her neck. He traced it, and she groaned. It looked as if someone tried to shoot her and the bullet grazed her neck. After nearly drowning, she was damn lucky to be alive.

The cell phone lying on the dash rang, startling Sam from his assessment. He picked it up on the third ring. "Yeah, Maddie. What's up? Have you heard from Mike yet?"

"No, I haven't, Sam. Obviously you haven't." Madelyn Westen sounded close to tears. "I called Jesse and Fiona, and neither of them have heard from Michael. I'm getting worried."

"Hey, Mike's been through a lot over the years and gotten himself out of plenty of scrapes. He'll be fine, Maddie. Really." He glanced at the woman beside him and took a breath. Maddie's was closer to the beach than the loft or his place. "Hey Maddie, do you mind if I stopped by? I, um...have a...a situation I may need some help with."

"Sure, Sam. You know my house is always open to you."

"Great. I'll be there in about five minutes."

Sam started the car, checked the woman's pulse one more time, and put the car in gear. She was breathing on her own and her pulse was a lot stronger, but that concussion worried him. And until he knew what was happening, who tried to kill her, and what circumstances put her in the water in an evening gown, he was not about to take her to the hospital and possibly put her life in danger. Most people would think a hospital was safe, but in his experience, Sam knew that sometimes it was better to take care of things at home. In this case, at Maddie's.