A/N:

Hello readers! Long time no...write, right? Sorry for the delay but I think you're gonna like where we're goin'.

So…the new episodes. I have some definite feelings. Let's just say that I have more than once used the words 'troll', 'instigating' and 'Schneider' in the same sentence recently. Further thoughts will be included at the end of the next chapter. Moving on…

When we last left our favorite couple things were sort of up in the air, huh? I'd have given a dollar to be a fly on the wall in that alley…wait, I sort of was wasn't I? Hope you all liked it. My short break from writing was very productive. Stay tuned, I'll be posting a link to a private wordpress site where you can visit, read my original fiction and leave comments and/or questions. You've all been so supportive of my writing here – I'd love to get your thoughts on other things as I'm working on them. And the break renewed my passion for this story and Summer of Love so be prepared – I'm about to kick the drama into overdrive. So, without further ado:

Benediction Chapter 7: This We Ask Part 1

XXOO-TheWrtrInMe

Last Time…

"Who's his dad, Spencer?" Sam whispered. She didn't really expect an answer. She didn't really need one. She knew.

Sam turned away from Spencer and towards a voice that in all this time she'd never forgotten.

"Sam?"

He recognized her. Even before he heard her voice. Even before he saw her face.

It was like vertigo. He was jarred and unbalanced, like some small thread had been holding him to the ground and now the reality of seeing her had severed it and he was lost, desperate to find his footing.

The voices of the crew of volunteers echoed off the tall brick walls of the alley, joining the sounds of the busy Seattle street behind him. Noise swirled around him but in the five feet of space between him and Sam, the world had gone eerily silent. He swallowed back against the words that rushed to the edge of his lips. There were six years' worth of accusations and questions, six years' worth of rejection-soaked barbs, and if she didn't say something soon or move from the spot she seemed glued to he was going to release it all on her.

"Hey, Freddie."

Her reply was so normal it sent hot, irrational anger lightning fast straight through him. She was greeting him like she'd just seen him yesterday! Like she'd gone to the store for milk and come right back, not taken a hacksaw to his heart, then hopped a plane and disappeared.

He didn't answer her. He still didn't trust his ability to control what he'd say. He just stood and surveyed the woman in front of him, trying to reconcile the contradiction of emotions running through him.

'She left us. She's the enemy' his brain screamed, but his heart disagreed and sang out 'She's here! Finally here! The only woman we've ever wanted to fight for.'

"Daddy?" He looked down into the worried face of his son.

Freddie was ashamed to realize that for the space of a few minutes he'd completely forgotten A.J. was there.

"Yeah buddy," he said, watching from the corner of his eye as Sam stepped away to take a phone call.

"Daddy," A.J. lowered his voice as Freddie knelt beside him. "That's your friend Sam – only she's not your friend anymore, right?"

"Yeah," he looked over to where she stood, leaning against the alley wall. "That's … her."

A.J. leaned in to whisper before taking off down the alley toward Kayla. "She's even prettier than her picture."

Standing, Freddie walked toward Spencer, who looked as if he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Hey Freddo." He said with mock enthusiasm, "How was the lecture?"

"It was alright." Freddie said, staring up at him. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Sam was still leaning against the alley wall, phone to her ear. A tall Indian man stood near her, glaring at Freddie.

"Who's that?" he asked, turning back to Spencer.

"That's, um, Raj, I think his name is. A, uh, friend of Sam's."

"So…"

"So…uh, weather's really nice today."

"Really Spencer? You're gonna stand here and talk about the weather?" Freddie hissed under his breath. "What the hell is she doing here?"

Spencer closed his eyes slowly, shaking his head. This had to be the most uncomfortable situation he'd ever been in; one that he had really hoped to avoid.

"Listen Freddie, I only told you she was here because I didn't want you to be shocked, you know, in case you ran into her. But maybe you should ask her why she's here."

"Are you serious?" he said, loud enough to cause several of the volunteers passing them to look their way in confusion. Lowering his voice he walked closer to Spencer. "If you haven't noticed in the last six years, Sam isn't exactly forthcoming with me about what she does…or where she goes." He narrowed his eyes, "So cut the shit and tell me what the hell is going on here!"

"Um, Spencer?"

Freddie shut his eyes tight. Her voice. It made his chest tight and he felt lightheaded. He hated that she had that effect on him – or any effect on him.

"Hey kiddo," Spencer said, looking around Freddie to where Sam stood.

"I, um, gotta go but I'll call you tomorrow. We can do lunch?"

"Sure Sam, I'll be here tomorrow too, but I can take a break and meet you somewhere."

"Alright. well, I'll see you then." She didn't move and Freddie knew she was waiting, trying to decide if she should say something – waiting to see if he would speak first. "Right. So, bye then. Uh, nice seeing you Freddie."

He was silent, eyes still shut as he heard her retreating footsteps. Every step she took pulled on him, yanking his heart toward her while his intellect resisted. Even after all this time her presence spoke to something inside of him, made him crave the feeling of being near her. But another part of him, the part that had been rejected, broken and confused for six years, wanted to show her that she didn't matter to him anymore – even if it was a lie.

Before he could stop himself or put a leash on his traitorous heart he turned on one heel and started down the alley behind her.

"Sam! Wait!"

Great, now what are you gonna say you idiot? He had no idea, but now he had to say something.

She paused at the entrance of the alley and said something to her friend, who looked back at Freddie with narrowed eyes before grabbing keys from Sam's hand and walking out onto the street. He saw her shoulders rise then fall as she turned to face him. She was nibbling the corner of her mouth. And in that one almost imperceptible movement, he suddenly recognized the Sam of six years ago – his Sam, who would do that if she was nervous. The Sam who stared back after kissing him at the lock-in. And who stared back the night he first told her he loved her. Always with that same look, the same corner of her mouth tucked in – as if she were fighting to believe him. The realization that he wasn't the only one affected by this meeting made him slow his gait.

Let her sweat.

When he finally reached her, neither of them spoke immediately. They were two prizefighters circling the ring, assessing the opponent, trying to determine their weak spots and when, or if, to exploit them.

"So," she said, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. He forced himself not to follow the curl as it draped itself over her shoulder. Her hair – it had always been one of the things he loved most about her. She'd grown it out. It fell to the small of her back and he balled up his hands in fists, willing his fingers to stop tingling with the desire to run through it.

"So," he replied.

"How have you been, Freddie?"

'Horrible. Miserable. Confused. Unable to move beyond where I was six years ago thanks to you.'

"Fine. You?"

'I thought I was okay until you showed up with your adorable son and your beautiful eyes and now I'm confused and really wish I could hop a plane back to Goa.' She suppressed the urge to cry, and hoped she could keep that up as long as she was in front of him.

"Great."

"That's good."

"Yeah it is, I mean, it's good for you, you know…that you're fine."

This was ridiculous. They'd had a million conversations in the time they'd known each other, and now they were making small talk like two people in the 15 items or less line at the grocery store. They had become strangers.

But they weren't strangers. Regardless of how long it had been, the woman standing in front of him was familiar. Studying her face was like remembering a song you'd once loved. The longer it played the more the words came back to you, like you'd just heard it yesterday. She looked older. No one would mistake her for eighteen anymore, the way they had before she left. And she'd lost that way of standing that said 'you do not want to mess with me.' There were tiny differences here and there, but he knew that if she turned her head just a little to the right, there'd be a little freckle behind her ear, and if he ran a finger over it she would shiver. His eyes traveled down her body and rested on her knee, where a small faded scar was in exactly the place he remembered. She'd cut herself trying to crawl out of his window onto the fire escape. Their fire escape. No, she may have left, and she may have changed, but he wasn't sure he could call her a stranger.

"Your son," she said, softly, "he's really adorable." It's the way I always assumed our son would look.

"Oh, um, thanks."

"He looks a lot like you – but like his mom too."

"Yeah, he…wait. What did you say?"

Only then did it hit her: she'd said too much. From the minute she found out that A.J. was Freddie's son, she'd never doubted that his mother was the beautiful auburn-haired woman she'd seen Freddie with five years ago. The hints of red in his brown hair, the shape of his face, the dusting of freckles over his nose. She could have been wrong, but something in her gut told her that she wasn't.

But saying it to Freddie was an awful mistake. As far as he knew, she'd left Seattle and hadn't been back. That's what she made Spencer lead him to believe. Her little visit five years ago had been a secret – one that he was never to know about. In three seconds, with seven little words, her big mouth had ruined it. All that work of concealing it from him, and maybe even from herself, wasted.

"Oh, I just mean that he, you know…must look a lot like his mom." She risked a look at his face and saw the familiar questioning in his eyes. It was too late. He didn't believe her. Which made sense – since she was lying, and not nearly as well as she used to. Over time, he had learned to tell when she was lying. She needed to get out of there – fast. "Listen Freddie, it was really nice to see you but I, uh, have some stuff I need to take care of so…I better get going." He stood still, studying her face but not speaking. She stuffed her hands into her front pockets and turned around. "Take care of yourself."

Before he could react, she was gone, disappearing around the corner. Once again, she had run away preemptively.

He turned around, thumbs shoved into his front pockets, and headed back toward the center of the alley where Spencer was standing, staring down at his clipboard.

At Freddie's approach, he raised his head and gave Freddie a tight-lipped grin.

"So…"

"No more talking about the weather, Spence."

Spencer sighed and leaned his back against the jagged alley wall. "What do you want me to say Freddie?"

"The truth this time."

"The truth about what?"

Freddie shook his head. "Spencer, come on! What's the story with Sam? Why is she here?"

"Why didn't you ask Sam that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Freddie said, his voice rising, "The girl I was in love with for half my life just up and left and for six years and I hear nothing Spencer, nothing! So she shows up and all of a sudden I'm supposed to ask her why she's here? I'm supposed to think she's suddenly gonna tell me anything after years of silence?"

"Freddie…"

"No, Spencer! All this time you keep giving me lists of what you can't tell me. You can't tell me where she went. You can't tell me why she went. You can't tell me if she's ever coming back and I was 'good guy' Freddie who sat back and said nothing! That shit stops now Spence!" He screamed. He knew he was being absurd. All of this anger was misplaced. His face was flushed, his hands in tense fists at his sides. He was furious and as much as he wanted to believe that it was because Spencer hadn't told him why Sam was here, he knew that wasn't it. As he stood glaring at the man who had been a brother to him for most of his life he wanted to blame him – he'd known Sam was going to be here. He'd known where she'd gone and why and he'd never told Freddie anything. But that wasn't why he was mad – though it was a reasoning that was much easier to swallow than the truth like a murky river beneath his feelings.

Sam was back – and his heart was breaking all over again.

He walked over to the wall and slid down it, sitting with his head hung over his knees – exhausted. He couldn't deal with this - any of it. He'd worked so hard to exorcise the love he'd had for her. He'd lost so much because he couldn't. And now she was here.

Spencer sat down on the hard ground beside him. Neither of them spoke at first and when Spencer finally did, his voice was soft as he stared straight ahead.

"Sam works for an international organization that helps rescue girls from sex trafficking. It's called GirlForce. She's some sort of hot shot, helps run the whole thing. She's been with them for six years – ever since she left. I can't tell you why she went, or why she chose them. That's her story to tell, if she decides to. But she's here on a fundraising tour. She's going to be speaking tonight…at the Gala."

Freddie head shot up.

"What?"

"The Gala. She's speaking there tonight."

Freddie groaned, shaking his head. This just got worse and worse. "Spencer, please tell me there's some other Gala going on tonight."

"And not the one you're going to?" he shook his head, reaching out to pat Freddie on the shoulder. "Sorry kid."

Freddie stared out of the alley where Sam had been standing just minutes ago. Yesterday life hadn't been perfect but it made sense. He'd had a job he loved, a son he loved, a life that, while void of much excitement, was comfortable in its evenness. He'd also managed to take the pain of six years ago and tuck it away so that he was able to function without being crippled. In a matter of twenty-four hours, it felt like everything had changed. He still had a great job, and an even greater kid, but suddenly the calm veneer of his life was shattered. The cover of the nice, neat little box in which he'd tucked his past away had been unceremoniously ripped off the moment he'd laid his eyes on Sam again. Now there was no hiding from the feelings he'd tried so hard to ignore, or the woman he'd tried so hard to forget.

"I don't believe this is happening," he mumbled.

But it was.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

She sat down hard in the driver's seat, immediately dropping her head onto the steering wheel. Her hands, gripping the wheel at ten and two, were shaking and she was failing in her effort to slow her breathing.

She was rattled.

"Sam…what the hell…"

"Not now Raj," she mumbled. "Please."

She sat with her forehead on her hands, trying hard to slow her racing heart, focus her thoughts, keep herself from screaming. She felt Raj shift beside her and his hand ran softly up and down her back. She tensed under his touch. She wished that she could just melt into it, allow herself to feel better for just a minute, and accept this touch from a man she knew just wanted to make her happy. A man who wouldn't stand in front of her, staring at her like he wished she was anyone else. A man whose eyes didn't accuse her or rake over her with thinly veiled hate. But she couldn't and she wasn't ready to think about why.

She sat up sharply and Raj withdrew his hand. She looked over at him as she started the car. The hurt was plain in his eyes, but he offered her a smile.

"So that was…him," Raj said as Sam pulled away from the curb.

"Yep." It was all she could say.

It was quiet in the car but she felt the side of her face burn as Raj stared at her.

"You can do better."

The statement made her angry, though she wasn't altogether sure why. Maybe it was the fact that Raj didn't know Freddie, didn't know that for most of her life she'd felt exactly the opposite way. No one was perfect she knew. Freddie had his issues just like the rest of the world – he tended to be judgmental and stubborn at all the wrong times. But under all of that Freddie, the Freddie she'd fallen in love with before she even knew for sure what that meant, was someone she'd never felt quite good enough for.

Her hands tensed on the steering wheel but she stared straight ahead and said nothing.

"What's with American men and that spiky shit at the front of their heads?"

Raj launched into a tirade on everything that was wrong with American men in general and Freddie in particular. It annoyed her like an insistent fly buzzing at her ear. She just wanted him to shut up. She didn't want to think about Freddie at all – good or bad. She wanted this whole thing to go away. She just wanted to get through this stupid Gala, pack up, and head back to Goa, where her life made sense.

"And the dress shirts with sneakers? Is that supposed to be cool?" he laughed, "A gentleman on top and a farmer on the bottom. I mean…"

"Raj!" she said, slamming the brakes at the stoplight in front of their hotel. "Just stop it okay! Just stop! This crap is hard enough without you making it worse!"

Raj sat back, looking stricken. "Sam, I was just…"

"Trying to make me feel better – I know." She drew a shaky breath. "And I appreciate it, I do. But what you're doing isn't making it better. I just want to forget it, do what we came to do, and go home. So just…let's just not talk about it okay?"

"But…"

"No buts Raj! Please!" she lowered her voice and pulled slowly into the parking garage as the light turned green. "Just drop it okay, can you do that… for me?"

Raj sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. She felt bad to be so harsh with him. She and Raj rarely fought. She knew that he was only trying to help and he thought that bashing Freddie would do it. But it was the last thing she needed. Thinking of him, even if it was thinking the worst of him, still required her to allow him into her mind – and that was just a step away from her heart. She couldn't do it, it was too hard.

Raj said nothing, shifting in his seat so his body turned away from her as he stared out the passenger's side window; it was his childish way of letting her know she'd hurt his feelings. She pulled into the parking garage and they exited the car in silence. He was still silent as they rode up in the elevator and walked through the lobby. They did not utter a word as they walked down the hall to their rooms. As they came to his door and he slid his key into the card slot he was still silent, his jaw tense, eyes looking everywhere but at her.

"Raj."

"It's fine Sam. You don't want to talk about it. You don't want me saying anything – fine. You won't hear another peep out of me." He reached down grabbed the handle, opening the door to his room. "But if you think not talking about it will make it go away you're fooling yourself. You're not over him, and I think you may be the only one who doesn't know it." He walked into the room, not turning around to look at her. "I'll meet you in the lobby at seven."

The door closed behind him and Sam stood outside for a minute, waiting for the door to open again and Raj to be standing there, the smile she'd grown to love fill his face. But the door remained shut and finally she turned and headed across the hall to her own room.

She hoped this day would get better – because it couldn't possibly get worse.

His finger fumbled at the two ends of fabric meant to become a bow tie that he had, so far, only managed to turn into a tangled mess. It was ridiculous – he'd tied bow ties before. He was an adult who went to these things often, even if under duress. Somehow, seeing Sam today had catapulted him back in time to when he was standing in front of the mirror as an acne prone teenager getting ready for prom, wishing he had a clip on tie.

His brain was buzzing with a feeling of mental claustrophobia that comes when you are certain that you're headed for disaster and have no good idea of how to stop it.

He had options, he was almost sure of it.

Call Liz and tell her he was too sick to go to the Gala.

That wouldn't work. Liz could sniff out a lie before it even left his mouth. But it wasn't exactly a lie. Since Spencer had told him Sam would be there tonight he'd felt a rising nausea that now made him feel like he might just throw up all over his tux.

Go to the Gala, avoid Sam like the plague, and sneak out early.

Nope, after all these years it was still like metal to a magnet – even if he did his best to stay away from her he'd somehow wind up near her – pulled into her orbit.

He groaned, staring into his reflection in the bedroom's full-length mirror, and yanked the offending tie from around his neck. He was preparing to throw it across the room when the doorbell rang.

'Great' he thought. The driver was early. Usually he hated it when Liz scheduled a driver for things like this, but getting through tonight would likely require some alcohol and he welcomed the idea of not having to drive.

Throwing the tie back around his neck, he grabbed the door and threw it open, prepared to tell the driver to wait at the curb until he was ready. What he saw on the other side of the door was no driver – and it took his breath away.

"When you get done staring I'd like to come in. Your pervy neighbor is staring again."

Freddie looked up as a door down the hall slammed. He moved to the side to let her pass, but still couldn't manage words.

"Mira?"

She walked to the center of the room and turned dramatically. "The one and only." She said, placing her hands on her hips. "You like?"

Like was an understatement. Mira was a beautiful woman, no one with eyes could deny that. And it was times like this that he realized just how much he'd lost when he lost her. She stood in front of him, her milky white skin squeezed provocatively into an emerald green strapless gown. She looked like she'd been wrapped in strips of green satin from her chest – which strained against its confines- to the floor, where a slit ran to the middle of her thigh. Nestled between the rise of her chest was the necklace Freddie had given her for her birthday the year A.J. was born – a diamond teardrop pendant. Her auburn hair tumbled down her back.

"You look amazing," he whispered.

"Only amazing?" she pouted and walked toward him, grabbing the two ends of fabric around his neck. "I was going for breathtaking, traffic stopping, life changing. Any of those would do." She made quick work of his tie and stepped back to give him a once over. "You look pretty good yourself. I mean, other than the look of abject terror on your face. Don't suppose this has anything to do with the return of a certain blonde, does it?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Spencer called me." Her smile was soft. As a general rule they didn't talk about Sam or the situation surrounding Sam. The one conversation they'd had was enough. Mira knew what it meant for Sam to be here. "How you holdin' up?" She walked to the sofa and sat down, patting the spot beside her.

He sighed and dropped into the seat beside her, putting his head in his hands. He wanted to try to look cool, like Sam being here wasn't affecting him – but he didn't have the ability, especially not with someone who knew him so well.

"I've been better." He said. Raising his head from his hands he looked over to her. "So, what are you doing here? I thought you said not going to these things was a perk of not being with me."

"Well, let's just say I haven't quite gotten over my 'Rescue Freddie' complex." She laughed, reaching over to place her hand lightly on his arm. "I thought you might need a friend. And after all this time I figured you shouldn't have to meet her without some eye candy on your arm, so…here I am!" she laughed, "Plus, you can't blame me for wanting to see this girl with my own eyes."

He didn't blame her. In her shoes he'd likely do the same thing.

"What about A.J.?"

"Took him to your mom's. I have a feeling this evening will contain many, many drinks on both our parts. We can pick him up tomorrow."

He placed his hand over hers. "You really are the best Mira, I mean that."

"Yeah, yeah…so I've heard." She said, standing. "Now we better get this party moving. I saw the driver downstairs and told him we'd be right down."

Freddie stood and followed Mira to the door. He felt a little lighter – not because he'd been saved from an evening in the same room as a woman who set his whole body into a confusing swirl of feelings, but because he wouldn't have to do it alone.

Following Mira into the hall they entered the elevator.

"So…how was it, you know, seeing her again?"

"Sam?"

"No – the Queen of Sheba – of course Sam." Mira laughed but her eyes were questioning and filled with an old pain. "Did she…look different?"

"Um, she…she looks exactly the same."

"Still pretty."

"Mira…"

"What? I'm just making small talk." They both knew that wasn't true.

What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to set Mira at ease when just the thought of seeing Sam again made his whole world feel unbalanced? Yes – Sam was still pretty, prettier if it were possible. Her face still made him wish he could sit somewhere undetected and study it, memorizing every feature.

Mira and Sam had never met, but Sam's memory was enough to cause a rift between him and Mira that neither could deny nor ignore. She was the elephant in every room Freddie and Mira stood in, the invisible line that divided them.

"Mira, you look absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking, life changing!" he said, and he meant it.

"That's better." She laughed, "I just wanted to make sure Sam and I were…equally matched."

"It's dinner Mira, not a war." He laughed as they exited the elevator.

But he wasn't so sure that was true.

I have been honored to be invited to join The Cabal. They are a very cool group of folks and it's already been an interesting ride (thanks for the tiara Pigwiz…I wear it daily).

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