AN: Thank you to those of you who have posted reviews. And thank you so much Themisia for all of your feedback. I appreciate that you take the time to review each chapter so thoroughly. It's good for me to actually read what people are thinking about the story. I've had these chapters written for a while, but I've been hesitant to post this one because I just wasn't sure about it. After much editing and taking scenes out and putting them back, I'm still not sure as sure in posting it as I have been previous chapters... Also, the story has a few dark moments the next few chapters. So be prepared...I guess is what I'm trying to say. Anyway...
Chapter 7
"Lt. Provenza, please give Mr. Bloom a call. I will be in my office. Please, let me know when he arrives," Sharon ordered the Lieutenant as he followed her out of the electronics room. Sharon had just finished letting the FBI in on her plan to get Bloom out of his house so that her team could discreetly serve a search warrant and retrieve his gun, which they believed would be a perfect match to the one used to murder his cousin. Discreetness was particularly necessary so as not to compromise the FBI's investigation into the family.
Provenza continued to follow her to her office, where Father Langley and Rusty were both waiting for her. Apparently, Rusty had caused some trouble on his first day of school and gotten into a fight. "Captain," Provenza tried to reason, "I understand having Ilea Bloom come here to comfort his cousin's wife works fine getting him out of his house, but what is the point in staging this big confrontation in our murder room?" The captain stopped at her office door and turned to face the perplexed Lieutenant. He still doubted her instincts, and it was really starting to irk her. How long would this attitude of his go on? Just when she started to think they were making progress…
"The FBI assumes our homicide is drug related, and I'm beginning to think it's a little more personal…than that." Sharon's pause was attributed to the familiar dark headed, brown eyed woman who was engaged in an animated conversation with Detective Sanchez further into the murder room; an amused Amy Sykes looked on. Sanchez took a step closer to Sam, and the Captain's eyes widened beneath her dark rimmed glasses. It was usually slightly amusing to Sharon when men flirted with Sam, but on this busy day it was irritating. "Excuse me, Lieutenant," Sharon brushed off the older man's concerns and headed over in Sam's direction to see what she needed. Provenza wouldn't let it go. "Captain," he continued as he placed himself in Sharon's path, effectively halting her. "These are very volatile people. If Roma or Bloom or even this Thorn character were to start a fight—"
"Then one of them could say something that they will live to regret, and they are more likely to say it to each other than they are to one of us," the captain interrupted the lieutenant strictly. The raised octave of her voice caught the attention of the rest of the squad room. Provenza shook his head condescendingly. He clearly thought the captain was naively putting the safety of her team at risk, but Sharon didn't think so. She happened to think that this exercise might actually help them put the pieces together in this particular case.
"You don't under—" "Lieutenant!" She stopped him again, "I have told you what I want done. Do I really need to phrase this as an order?" Provenza stared back at her wide-eyed and speechless, but he didn't protest any further as he settled himself at his desk and picked up the phone.
Everyone briefly stared at the Lieutenant, and Sam took advantage of Julio's brief distraction and approached Sharon. "Friendly team you have here," Sam joked. "Hmm…it seems that way," Sharon responded as she subtly eyed Julio. Sam chuckled, apparently amused. "I went all the way down to F.I.D. to find you in your old office, only to be reminded you don't work there anymore. It's way nicer up here," Sam said, a little too impressed. She wanted something. She had a feeling that Sam was here to talk about her sister, who hadn't been returning Sam's calls and hadn't been home in days. Sam wanted her to track Sara down, but Sharon was hesitant to get the LAPD involved because Sara had a history of disappearing. "Look, I'm sorry to bother you at work, I know you're busy but—" "Do you want to talk to Father Langley from St. Joseph's with me? It appears Rusty is already in some trouble at school." Sharon could almost see the gears in Sam's brain switch from concern over her sister to Rusty. "What kind of trouble?" She asked confused, "It's only his first day." "I don't know. That's what I'm going to find out right now," Sharon answered and guided Sam into her office.
Rusty sat next to the father in the chairs facing her desk. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting so long, Father. It has been an extraordinarily busy day here," she said as she sat at her desk and shot Rusty an unappreciative glare. "What did they call you too?" Rusty directed his question to Sam who now stood next to Sharon at her desk. "No, I came for other reasons, but what a pleasant surprise," Sam answered sarcastically. "I don't believe we've met," she introduced herself to the priest, "I'm Samantha Grey. I've been helping with Rusty here." Sharon watched as Sam graciously took the priest's hand in her own in a polite handshake. Sharon was hesitant to introduce Sam as her partner because she wasn't exactly sure how tolerant St. Joseph's was when it came to homosexuality. She guessed by Sam's own vague introduction that she felt the same. They didn't need to give the father any more reasons to expel Rusty today. The father didn't seem to be concerned with it when he moved on with the conversation. Maybe he didn't care; it was California. "Right…well to continue with what I was explaining to Captain Raydor earlier," the father addressed the two women, "Honesty is at the core of the St. Joseph's honor code, and Rusty introduced himself to his new classmates with lies."
"Such as?" Sharon inquired. She was curious as to what kind of so called "lies" would have been serious enough to start a physical altercation between Rusty and another one of his classmates. Rusty was the one to answer, "They asked me what I did over summer vacation, and I told them that I was involved in helping catch a serial killer. And that I would be a material witness in his murder trial." Sharon nodded her head comprehensively. So far, Rusty had not done anything wrong. She was still giving him the benefit of a doubt. Sam scoffed beside her, but Sharon ignored her. "I thought we had decided not to discuss those things with the other students," Sharon reminded rusty. The teenager just rolled his eyes at her. "So, he was telling the truth?" Father Langley asked, surprised. The look Rusty gave him could only be described as 'I told you so'.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," Sharon answered him and directed her attention back to Rusty, "This fight did you start it?" She already knew what the father would say on the matter; she wanted to hear Rusty's side. "No," he said. Sharon looked back to the priest, but Rusty caught her attention once again. "But I finished it. Just like I will the next one and the one after that," Rusty addressed Langley. "Whoa, you got into a fight…your first day?" Sam caught up. Sharon remembered that she hadn't actually told Sam about the altercation. "Yes, he did. Our school has zero tolerance for fighting," the father relayed. Clearly glad to have another thing to add to the list of reasons to kick Rusty out. "That's fine because I have a zero tolerance for getting hit in the face," Rusty argued back. "Rusty," Sam sighed, "Please…"
"Captain, when you approached us about taking on Rusty as a student, we raised concerns that you asked us to overlook. We tried," the father resigned in mock regret, "And it just doesn't seem to be a good fit." "You tried," Sam said skeptically, "It's been one day. What has he done that warrants throwing him out? I mean, certainly the kid has a right to defend himself." "That's not the point here. The point is that Rusty created the environment of hostility which led to violence," the father explained. Oh, please. Sharon thought to herself. She understood that Rusty was a troubled kid and admittedly very difficult to tolerate at times, but this was ridiculous.
"Let's review the events as I understand them. Rusty was asked what he did over the summer; he told the truth. He was assaulted and defended himself. Now, you're trying to throw him out," Sharon assessed. "What about the boy who attacked him," Sam interjected, "Will he be expelled as well?" "It was three boys, and they will be punished," the father answered, "Once they get out of the infirmary." Sharon's previous irritation rose to infuriation at Rusty when he smirked at having sent the others to the infirmary. He clearly took zero percent responsibility for this. She contained her anger in front of the priest.
"And expelled?" Sharon asked. The father looked at her incredulously. "Consider my position." "I am. I am also considering the message you send by turning away an abandoned boy," Sharon appealed to the priest's religious side. It was always hard to argue with one's own professed principles. "I am concerned with the safety of my other students," he defended. "Well," Sam helped Sharon, "What about their…souls?" Sharon looked at Sam dubiously, and then decided to go with it: "Are you at all concerned that they hear one thing at mass and another thing at school?" Rusty beamed proudly at the two women who came to his defense. They didn't return the grin. The father shifted his eyes from one unwavering woman to the other. "I see you are determined," he conceded. Sharon nodded her head and rose to her feet along with the priest. "Let me consult with the faculty," he resigned. Sharon stopped him as he was preparing to exit the room. "Father, let me be clear here. If Rusty is not readmitted tomorrow, I will be taking other actions… Do you understand?" "Yes, captain. I get it," he huffed as he exited the office.
"You guys," Rusty rejoiced the victory, "That was great!" Sam shook her head and cautioned the celebratory teen. "Dude…no." She was warning him of her partner's foul mood and obvious anger, which the boy seemed to be oblivious to. If he thought he was off the hook, all he had to do was read Sharon's body language to know that wasn't the case. He wouldn't have to though, Sharon was about to let him have it. Rusty looked at the women clearly confused. "How dare you hurt those other boys so badly," Sharon scolded. Her voice was raised slightly from it's usual soothing alto. Had Rusty's attitude finally gotten to the captain? "What?" Rusty asked surprised. "You put them in the infirmary because you hit them harder than you had to and you know it. I want you to stay here. I want you to think about why you are so mad and why you are throwing away an opportunity to change your life for the better," Sharon continued to lecture. "I could actually just take him with me, Sharon," Sam suggested. She quickly retracted her offer and threw her hands up in surrender when Sharon directed that intense glare at her. "Well, fine. Do you want me to stand in the corner too?" Rusty asked sarcastically.
"By all means!," Sharon retorted. A knock came to the door, and a sandy headed man in a blue button down entered the office. His eyes lingered on Sam and for a brief moment. A look of recognition spread across his features, but it passed as he addressed Sharon. "Excuse me, Captain. So sorry to interrupt. Roma and Thorn are set up the way you wanted. The phone call you asked us to make to Mr. Bloom worked. Lt. Flynn is bringing him up right now. Should I tell everyone that you are ready to begin?" "Yes, thank you Buzz," Sharon answered promptly as Buzz hurried out of the office.
"Listen, I know this isn't the best time to bring this up, but my sister—" Sam began, but Sharon interrupted her softly. Sharon knew exactly what Sam was going to say. She wanted Sharon to enlist the help of the LAPD in her search for her sister. Sam understood Sharon's hesitation, but this time felt different. Sara had been MIA for four days now, and Sam had a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong due to sisterly intuition and terrible nightmares. "I know. You're worried about her. I have to go deal with this right now. We will talk about it later, I promise." Sharon was blowing her off again, and the dismissive attitude of the captain concerning her sister's current disappearance was really starting to piss her off.
"Well, when is later? I just came from Blake's and he hasn't seen her. She isn't responding to any of my messages. I tried missing persons. They filed a report, but they aren't actually looking for her because of her history. She usually answers at least one message or leaves me a note, a voicemail…something. Sharon, come on. Help me out here, please," Sam pleaded. "Samantha, I'm just as concerned for your sister as you are. But she has a history of disappearing like this. She'll turn up… She always does. We will discuss it later. I have to go to work." Sam cringed away in irritation when Sharon touched her shoulder in an attempt to assuage her. Sharon pulled her hand away, but Sam caught it just before she reached the door.
"Sometimes later isn't good enough, and you of all people should understand that," Sam argued, "Please, Sharon. I don't want to spend another year without my sister, worrying about her every day. You don't know what it was like." Sharon gazed at her sympathetically, but didn't respond as something in the other room caught her attention. Well, that was fine because Sam didn't want her to respond if it wasn't about helping with Sara. "Sharon!" Sharon gave in as she hurriedly headed toward the door. "I will talk to missing persons. I will get them to look into your sister's case…I will," she said almost flippantly as she rushed out of the office without giving Sam a chance to respond.
Rusty flipped through the copy of Domain that Lt. Tao let him borrow. So this is what Sam does all day? Rusty thought as he flipped past an article titled Painkiller Crackdown. The issue was a little dull for his taste; he remembered the last issue having a killer art section. "Rusty, what are you doing in here? Captain Raydor is looking for you," Buzz said as he entered the room; Sanchez and Tao were close behind him. Rusty had been hiding from Sharon in electronics for the better part of the hour now. It was around five o'clock. Maybe he should have gone with Sam earlier after all. Rusty flipped back to the page with the editor's remarks; Sam's photograph was next to the text. "So, did you read anything interesting?" Tao asked him. "Not really. I like the other issues. This health issue is kind of… depressing. The Alzheimer's guy was interesting." "Oh, Dr. Mendez. Yes, his work is really fascinating. See, what he does is injects a chemical compound into the cranium of —"
"Hey," Buzz interrupted Tao and pointed to Sam's picture, "I knew she looked familiar…I wonder what the editor of Domain was doing here."
"You're talking about that hottie from earlier?" Sanchez asked. "She was into me," he said smugly.
"Yea, right," Rusty snickered. "She was," Sanchez defended, "I would have gotten her number had the captain not interrupted me." The other men laughed at the exchange. Rusty was confused, if not a little amused. They didn't know who Sam was.
"Rusty," Provenza said as he stepped into the room, "You're supposed to be in the break room. What's so funny in here?" "Nothing, sir. Rusty doesn't believe I impressed the woman from earlier," Sanchez responded. "What? This guy," Provenza vigorously gestured toward Sanchez, "He's a regular Casanova."
Rusty smirked knowingly. "Trust me. You don't stand a chance, dude… You guys really don't know who she is?" Rusty asked curiously. Just as he asked the question, Sharon walked in. She still looked less than pleased with him. "Don't know who, who is?" She asked firmly. Oh, she was still upset with him.
"No one," Rusty quickly answered before anyone else could. He didn't want the captain to think that he was talking about her personal life behind her back. The captain didn't inquire any further. Instead, she ordered him to follow her to her office.
"I will be gone for hours on a stakeout with the FBI," she stated as she entered the office. Once Rusty was inside, she closed the door and walked around to her chair. "Sam has agreed to pick you up from here," Sharon continued almost coldly, "While I'm gone, I encourage you to think about the word civility. I think it might be proper for you to treat me with the same respect as I am showing you."
"Wonderful," Rusty huffed. Was she really that angry about the fight? It wasn't his fault those guys were being assholes. He saw Sam enter the murder room and stop at Sanchez's desk. Maybe he could lighten the mood. "He's into her," Rusty changed the subject, nodding in Sanchez's direction. Sharon looked in Sam's direction just as Sanchez pointed in Sharon's, and Rusty briefly wondered what Sam had said to put that look of bewilderment on the detective's face. Sharon ignored Rusty's statement and waved Sam into the office. Sam gave Sanchez a polite smile before she complied.
"He definitely doesn't know who I am," she stated comically after she shut the door. "Tell me about it," Rusty rolled his eyes. Judging from Sharon's static demeanor, Rusty could safely conclude that his attempts at lightening the mood had failed. Sam shot Rusty a puzzled glare. Her too? He wondered to himself. Sam hadn't seemed angry with him before. He decided not to talk anymore.
"So, anything on my sister?" Sharon's attitude seemed to soften in Sam's presence, while Sam seemed tense. Maybe it wasn't him that Sam was angry with. "I did talk to missing persons. They've agreed to look deeper into your sister's case, but…" Sharon trailed off. "But…" Sam urged her to continue. "There isn't much for them to go on, Sam. They've sent people over to Blake's to take his statement. Now, before you start on me again," Sharon responded to Sam's impatient nature, " I took it upon myself to look into the recent transactions on her account. The last transaction was three days ago when she made a cash withdrawal of five hundred dollars."
"Okay," Sam said contemplatively, "I don't know whether to be more or less worried by that." "Maybe she went to Phoenix to visit your mother," Sharon suggested. "Well, if that's the case…then I am definitely more worried," Sam sighed, "And if she's only using cash that means she's probably doing…" Rusty caught Sharon's eyes as they shifted cautiously to him, and that must have been why Sam cut the sentence short. He knew that meant there was something they didn't want to talk about in front of him. He wasn't stupid; he had spent almost seven months selling himself on the streets. He knew people frequently emptied their accounts and paid strictly in cash for things like drugs or sex. The point being cash was sometimes sketchy.
"Alright… Thank you for looking into it for me," Sam ended the topic. Sharon looked into the murder room through the blinds in the office. The guys seemed to be waiting for her. "Of course," she told Sam generously. Sam turned to him. "Come on, Rusty," she told him, "Let's go."
"So are you like mad at me too?" Rusty asked Sam once they entered the house. The ride home had been silent. "No, I'm not angry with you Rusty," she answered him honestly, "But you shouldn't fight at school. And Sharon is right. You didn't need to hurt the other kids so badly, but… you know that." She caught Rusty's eye roll as she set her keys and bag down. "Your eyes are going to get stuck up there one day…" She regretted it as soon as she said it. "Ugh, I sound like my mother," she grimaced.
Sam followed Rusty to the kitchen; he got a water bottle and sat at the counter. "So," she continued, "Why?"
"Why what?" He asked as he innocently sipped his water. Sam smirked at the teenager. She wanted to help him out. After all the kid was in for an intense silent treatment from Sharon, and she knew from experience how tough those could be. "You know. Why did you intentionally try to make trouble for yourself? You knew the trial would be a…hard topic."
"I didn't intentionally…Everyone there just has it so freaking easy. I couldn't stand to listen to one more story about their happy families and their perfect lives," he explained. "I see," Sam nodded understandingly. She pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and poured herself a glass. She could feel Rusty's calculated stare as she did so. "You know, just because the other kids have happy summer vacation stories doesn't mean that they have perfect lives. No one has a perfect life," Sam told him.
"Right, so you think some of them turned tricks on the streets," Rusty argued doubtfully. "Well, no. But nobody is perfect, everyone has a past, everybody has secrets. Give them a chance, and I bet some of them have some sad stories that rival even yours," Sam joked. Rusty's glare told her that she wasn't being funny. "Look, all I'm saying is give the school a chance. They may not have it as tough as you have, but that isn't their fault," Sam clarified. "Yea, I guess… I don't like to fight with people, you know. It's just what I'm used to," Rusty further explained himself. "Mmhmm," Sam teased in her best mock therapist's voice. "Would you like to talk more about that?" "No," Rusty mimicked Sam's elusive answer from one of their previous conversations. "I guess, now I just have to apologize to Sharon," he sighed.
"Yes, you do. Don't worry, she can be very forgiving," Sam said, "If you mean it." "Yea…" Rusty acknowledged as he headed in the direction of his room. "Oh hey," he said before he started down the hall. "Yes?" "I hope you find your sister. I don't really know anything about it, but I know what it's like to want to find someone," he said. "Thank you, Rusty." He smiled at her and continued down the hall.
Sam finished her glass of wine and headed to her bedroom. It had been a long day at work and she just wanted to get out of her stiff clothes and curl up on the couch. That was a lie. What she really wanted was a huge tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water. Water so hot it was slightly painful to first settle into. The tub in this apartment wasn't as big as the one she had in her old place, though. It was always a disappointment. She sighed and removed her gray slacks and tossed them to the side. She found a pair of Sharon's loose fitting navy and black plaid sleeping pants and an old t-shirt of hers with some obscure band from the 1990's displayed on the front. Then, she retrieved her bottle of wine along with her glass from the kitchen and proceeded to the sofa, where she fretted with her hair until she had twisted it into a loose braid that rested over her shoulder.
Just as she had settled on CNN, her phone rang from beside her. Caller I.D. told her it was Blake. Great. She thought to herself. She hadn't gotten around to firing him since his outburst in the office because she wanted to keep him close while her sister was gone. "Hello," she answered grimly.
"Hey, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that Sara called me," Blake informed, "I thought you'd like to know because judging from the police officers that just paid me a visit, I gather you've been worried."
Sam skeptically perked up. Why would Sara not call her? "Well, okay…where is she? What did she say?" "Not much. She sounded drunk. She just kept apologizing," he told her. "For?" Sam asked. "She didn't say, but…" "But what, Blake," Sam accidentally spit out a little too harshly. The silence on the other end told her he noticed. "What was she apologizing for? Damn it, Blake." "What? I don't know, okay. It was just drunk dialing probably. I only called you to let you know that she's alive and she's on a binge," he angrily replied, "Believe it or not, Samantha, I care about her too." Sam sighed heavily. Why did her sister insist on being so dramatic? Perhaps both her and her sister had their own separate ways of dealing with things. Sam had her repressed memories and her denial, and Sara had her alcohol. She couldn't decide which was worse. "Well, did she say where she was?" Sam asked softer. "No, she didn't. But she usually comes back, right?" he actually sounded concerned. "Usually, yes," Sam answered unenthusiastically.
Last time Sara disappeared like this, Sam didn't speak to her for a little over a year. It would have been longer had she not overdosed on painkillers and ended up in the hospital. Even then, it was the hospital that had contacted Sam on Sara's behalf. "Okay," Blake said on the other end, "I've got to go. I'll uh, see you tomorrow."
Sam hung up the phone and downed the rest of her wine; she immediately regretted it. She wished that Sharon was there with her instead of on duty. She could have really used her company, someone to vent to about her sister and Blake. An overwhelming desire to tell the woman everything about her past crept up on her from somewhere deep within her chest. Sharon knew the basics about what she went through, but honestly, she didn't even know half of it.
She wanted to tell Sharon about her father. She wanted to tell her all about his death. How it changed her. How it changed her family. This feeling had come over her a lot in the past couple of weeks. Maybe the doctor and his Alzheimer's trial had triggered it or the stress her sister and Blake had brought on top of everything with Rusty. She'd like to think that before Rusty she hadn't thought much about her father, but it was a lie. Rusty had only made her realize it. It was all that talk about lost mothers or the horrible nightmares she'd started having again. Whatever the reason, if Sharon were here right now, she'd tell her everything. She needed to tell someone or she felt she would implode. But she wasn't there, and Sam knew she'd feel much differently when Sharon actually got home. The strong desire to open up would be suffocated by fear. The fear of actually saying out loud to someone she truely loved what had happened. She didn't know why, but the concept frightened her.
Samantha quickly pushed all these thoughts to the side and poured herself another glass of wine. Maybe Sara had the right idea, she thought as she slowly nursed her drink. At once, her eyelids felt like they weighed seventy pounds. She could not hold them open. As hard as she tried to fight it, her body succumbed to a deep sleep.
The apartment was completely dark, save for the soft glimmer of the television, when Sharon arrived home at half past midnight. The evening had gone as planned, and they had captured their killer. It was a shame she'd had to arrest a fourteen year old boy for the murder of his own father. All she wanted to do now was curl up in bed with Sam, who, Sharon realized as she stepped further into the apartment, was fast asleep on the sofa next to an empty bottle of wine and a half empty bottle of Rum. She had not realized that Sam was upset enough to get plastered. Hopefully, she had waited until Rusty was in bed to start. Surely she had.
Sharon gently took the remote from Sam's loose grip and set it onto the coffee table before she knelt down beside the sofa next to Sam's sleepy head. A normally light sleeper, Sam should have woken instantly; the fact that she didn't let Sharon know just how intoxicated her girlfriend was. "Samantha," Sharon whispered smoothly. Sam didn't stir as Sharon stroked her cheek gently with her hand and whispered her name again, this time closer to her ear. She really just wanted to try to move her to the bed. "Honey, wake up. Let's go to bed," Sharon said somewhat louder as she gently nudged Sam's shoulders. Sam finally showed some signs of life and groaned disapprovingly as she flipped on her side. "No, don't get comfortable," Sharon told her softly, "Come with me."
"You," Sam said as her eyes flickered open, "I was dreaming about you. I was waiting on you, and then you were in my dream." Sharon smiled at how clearly Sam spoke. She could handle her alcohol and had never, in the time Sharon had known her, been a sloppy drunk. "Well, I'm here now," she said. Again, she tried to urge Sam to sit up in vain. "You were nicer in my dream," Sam stated. She was referring to earlier in the day when Sharon had brushed off her concerns about Sara. Sharon felt a little badly for that now. "I know. I am sorry about that," Sharon apologized. Sam looked into her eyes apprehensively and sat upright on the couch. "Sit with me," she instructed Sharon lazily. Sharon did as she was told and sat next to Sam, who immediately shared her blanket. It could have just been the alcohol, but Sam looked as if she were deep in thought. Sharon couldn't be sure, but Sam looked like she had something she wanted to divulge. "What is it?" She asked her. "Huh? Nothing. I just…missed you tonight…is all," Sam said sleepily and rested her head on Sharon's shoulder. "Sara called Blake. He said she was drunk…"
"Oh," Sharon understood now. This was why the Rum was out. "So, how much of that did you drink?" Sharon asked as she pointed to the bottle of Rum. "Not much," Sam fibbed. Sharon could tell it was lie by the tone in her voice and the way the woman tensed up beside her. "Right," Sharon said unbelieving. "Well, at least you know she's alright. Did she say where she was?" "She's not alright," Sam said frustrated, "And no." Sharon rubbed Sam's back soothingly and Sam relaxed again. "She's fine," Sharon corrected her, "She just wanted to be alone, right? That's what she does." "She's not fine, Sharon," Sam snapped as she sat up to face her, "She's running away from her problems. Instead of just talking to me about what was bothering her—" "Like you do?" Sharon asked only half joking about Sam's own habits of suppressing her own troubles. She didn't know where the remark had come from, but the hurt on Sam's features almost made her want to take it back. Almost… The truth was that Sharon had noticed for weeks that Sam wanted to talk to her about something, but was uncertain about it. Sure, she was worried about her sister, but Sam had been showing signs that something was bothering her before that.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam was always more emotional when she drank. Sharon had to be careful not to start an argument. She truly just wanted to know more about what was wrong here. It was more than just worry over her sister. Sharon wasn't sure if it was Rusty being there or unresolved feelings relating to her father. Whatever it was, Sharon wished Sam would just tell her. "Nothing," Sharon said cautiously, "It just seems to me that something has been troubling you for the last couple of weeks. I'm here if you want to talk to me about it is all." Sharon lightly patted Sam on her thigh as Sam lowered her head and fiddled with a loose string on the blanket. "Hey, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'd just like to know what is wrong is all. I want to help. I know it didn't seem like it today, but I do," Sharon assured. Sam sniffled and Sharon saw a single drop of moisture fall to the blanket. Now, she truly wanted to take back her previous remark. "Don't cry," Sharon implored. She brought her hand to Sam's chin and forced her to look at her. "Baby, what is it?" Sharon asked her sad counterpart as she wiped a single tear stain from her cheek. "I don't know," Sam answered her, then leaned in and kissed her lips. She'd probably meant it to be a seductive kiss, but toward the end, it felt more…gloomy than anything else. Not in a deeply depressing way, but in an exhausted kind of way.
"Can we just sleep?" Sam sighed when she pulled away and leaned her forehead against Sharon's. "Please," Sharon answered her. She wouldn't press the woman anymore tonight while she was clearly wasted. Sharon moved from the couch and gathered the wine glass, the empty bottle of wine, and the rum and headed to the kitchen with them. She didn't want Rusty to wake up to them in the morning. When she finished cleaning up, she took Sam by the hand and led her to bed.