"Come up when you are ready."

Carly closed the door behind her, excited. Sam's stupor would break soon, and then the fun would start. But first, she needed to prepare. She ran over to the mirror, futzing with her hair until it was perfect. Then she went to her closet. Sam was going to get a shock, again.

Sam pressed the button on the elevator, still smiling, and it began a slow climb to Carly's room. She was so lucky. So incredibly lucky. The elevator dinged, signaling the end of the ride. The doors slid open, and Sam gasped.

Carly was laid on her bed dressed in a plain, whit button up shirt, a red tie, and a short, plaid skirt. Sam could barely move. When she found her voice, she asked, "Carly? What's that you're wearing?"

Carly looked up, as if she'd just noticed Sam. She gave a short shrug. The outfit had had the desired effect, it seemed. Sam scooted over to Carly's bed, blushing impressively.

"H-Hey there."

Carly laughed. Her voice rang out like a blue bird singing its summer tune. "Well don't act so nervous, you're not the one 'in trouble'!"

"R-right."

Carly laughed again. She stood up and pushed Sam into a sitting position on her bed, causing her to wince. Chuckling at Sam, she said, "How do you want me?"

Sam, still blushing uncontrollably, stuttered, "What?"

"What position do you want me in silly?"

"Oh, um… I don't know, whatever you want, I guess."

Carly sighed. She obviously wasn't going to get anywhere with Sam, today at least. She slowly lowered herself onto Sam's lap, sprawling out in such a way as to make her bottom lift upwards, inviting Sam to do as she pleased.

"I'm ready," she said, more than a little seductively.

"O-ok." Sam lifted her hand. She blushed again. Carly was making this very easy, dressed as she was. Sam was having a hard time just trying not to have a nosebleed. Her hand reached as high as it would go. She stopped. She needed to hurry up, Carly was letting out impatient moans, but she couldn't. A thought was blocking her. Sam was yelling at Carly, a broken computer between them. Carly was crying on the couch. Sam was washing blood off of her hands. A tear ran down her cheek.

She pushed Carly off of her so suddenly that Carly just barely caught herself. Sam had stood, turned away from her. She thought she could hear sobbing.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't say anything. She just wiped her tears on her jacket.

"Sam?" Carly asked more urgently.

Sam looked at her over her shoulder. Tears were streaming down her face. Then she ran out of the room. Carly followed but couldn't catch her. Sam was out of the apartment soon and Carly had no idea where she had gone. Her Sam had left her. She sat down and began to cry.

Sam was crying to as she ran down the street. The images were still flashing in her mind. She couldn't do it. She couldn't hurt Carly again, even if she had asked her to. She couldn't even take the risk. She stopped to catch her breath, already many blocks from Carly's apartment. When she looked up, she didn't recognize where she was. She was standing amidst the gravestones of some old churchyard positioned between two corporate warehouses. She had never seen this place before. She saw an old oak tree rising from the exact center of the graveyard. Her muscles were tired from running. She walked over to the oak and sat down still breathing hard.

"That's a little weird Carly."

Freddie, sick as he may be, had walked straight across the hall when Carly had called him. She had cried on him and told him everything. He listened; slightly disturbed at what his friends had been doing just across the hall. The most disturbing thing that he had been told, at least in his opinion, was that Sam had run away. He had never known Sam to be scared of anything.

"I know Fred, but I don't know what to do." Carly burst into tears again. He tried to calm her, but he just didn't know what to say. In the end, he was just a shoulder to cry on, and really, he didn't mind.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

Sam jumped, startled by the old man's silent appearance. His hair was long and completely white, but his face was strong and undamaged by time.

"Sure."

Sam didn't really care who this old man was, and she didn't really want to find out, but something compelled her to let him sit anyway. She didn't have to talk to him. He sat with a contented sigh, leaning against the tree next to her, but not too close for Sam's comfort.

"Do you have any family buried here?"

The question was innocent enough. Sam shook her head.

"Just like hanging out in graveyards?"

Again she shook her head. She didn't want to talk, especially to some strange old man.

"Running away from something?"

She looked at him then in stunned silence. Did everybody have the ability to read her like a book?

"Yes, I thought you might be. Not much other reason that people come here."

She still didn't say anything; the situation was just too weird.

"I won't ask what you're runnin' from, but I can tell you this."

Sam leaned in close, hanging on his every word, though she didn't really know why.

"I planted this tree sixty years ago, back when my wife and I got married. We took care of this tree like it was one of our own. Six years ago, my wife died. Cancer took her. I still take care of this tree." He looked up fondly at the leaves of the oak. "Two years ago, every person was moved from this graveyard, including my wife, in order to make way for commercial apartments. Today, bulldozers are going to come and tear this tree down, and level this area. But this tree and I have had plenty of good times together, and I won't let it go. I won't let this tree go."

Sam saw his face stiffen. He stood up.

"Now young lady, whatever you're running from can't be as bad as bulldozers, so go back and face it."

She looked up at him. In his face she saw strength, determination, and complete honesty. "Don't let your tree die, young lady. Face down whatever you're runnin' from, and win."

"You can't win against a bulldozer sir."

"Maybe so, but I love this tree, so I'll fight anyway."

Then she understood. He nodded, and she turned. She looked back at him one more time, memorizing his face. Then, she ran back to the apartment building, the sounds of bulldozers echoing behind her.