Run

by Fasnacht

Sam says in book 1 that Wyatt won an argument about moving to San Francisco because she was 11 when she was hurt. What if she'd been 16? What if Jake had done what we all wished he'd been able to do at the time? Run attempts to answer those questions, and deal with an interpretation of the possible medical consequences. Songfic. Angst like woah to start.

21. Ampersand

Warnings: This chapter is a pretty strong "T." Bocephus has a potty mouth. Also, if the idea of bodies and their reactions is something that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read this. Ableism as it impacts perceptions of sexuality is rampant, which is basically the theme of the chapter. (i.e. How do our concepts of ability effect assumptions we make about someone's romantic and sexual needs?).

I also want you to know straight off that I present two viewpoints of some complex issues here in a very polarized way outside of ableism. That's intentional. It isn't directed as a slight to any viewpoint. In fact, I have tried to make the subject I address very individualized, so that it cannot be said that I was speaking for one group or another. In truth, these are Sam's beliefs and her interpretation of J.J.'s intentions and nothing more, as yet.

Well, this road I'm on's gonna turn to sand and leave me lost in a far off land

So let me ride the wind til I don't look back

Forget the life that I almost had.

Tell my brother please not to look for me

I ain't the man that I used to be.

But if my savior comes could you let him know

I've gone away for to save my soul?

The Longer I Run, Peter Bradley

Jake tapped away at the keyboard, finishing up a annotated bibliography for an assignment. He hit tab to create the hanging indent, only to find that it threw off the rest of the spacing in the entry. He corrected the spacing, and did one final spell check, hurrying along before Quinn came in to submit the assignment. It was worth 250 points, so he hoped it was all right. Jake shut the computer and stacked his folders, mind made up.

He was going to tell Dad. Dad had the right to know what he was doing before he went to Ballard, out of respect. Mom, he knew, would be told when he could work up the guts. He left the kitchen table and headed to the barn, bracing himself against a cool wind. How had it gotten so chilly so quickly? Jake hoped they weren't in for an overly cold and dry winter. They needed the snow melt to get on in the rest of the year. "Dad." Jake said, finding his father going over feed in the feed room.

Dad looked up. "Hand me that screwdriver." Jake passed it over. Dad, he saw, was repairing the lid of one of the wooden feed bins. They had to be very carefully cared for to ensure the health of the horses. The lid was loose and that wasn't a good thing, not if there was any possibility of snakes or rodents.

Jake passed it over and Dad quickly worked, waving off an offer of help. "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?" Dad shook the lid, and found that it was tighter than it had been. He began to inspect the rest of the bins. Glad to have something to do, Jake began on the other end of the bins and set to work.

Jake decided that he needed to be as honest as he knew how to be. "When I was..." he forced out the word. He wasn't ashamed of having been in treatment, but it was hard to talk about his weaknesses with his father, a man who appeared to have very little time for such concerns. He wasn't sure his father would be empathetic, "in treatment, I made a decision." Yes, Jake thought, that was a good way to frame this.

His father stopped working and looked up, aware from a note in Jake's tone that this was a serious conversation. Jake hadn't wanted this to be so serious. Dad was looking at him, questioning, searching, and for a moment, he looked rather like Grandfather. "Oh."

Jake nodded. "You need to know that this wasn't easy, and that I..." he didn't want to hurt his parents, didn't want to make them sad. "I think this best for me." Jake was glad for the save at the last second. He had nearly said that this was the best choice for him and Sam, which would not go over well.

"Jake." Dad said. Jake understood as his hand brushed over the wood grain of the feed storage units that he had given too much context and not enough information. He had no idea what his father was thinking.

"I'm shadowing a GP and not Ballard." Jake did not explain what shadowing was, because his father knew all too was a paramedic, or had been. Jake did not delve into the kind of medicine he hoped to one day practice. It seemed to be too much, too fast, and he needed to get the basic facts, make his father understand this before he got into the details and the future implications. "I start Monday."

His father blinked, twice. "A GP?" He clarified, and Jake realized that the term was outdated. "Primary Care?" Dad looked at him questioningly.

"Yeah." Jake affirmed. "I really don't want to be a cop anymore, Dad. That's the decision I made in treatment. I don't have it in me to go that way, anymore." Jake explained, softly, "And I thought about it, and I realized that, if I was honest myself, that I wanted to go to medical school."

"Well." Dad said, swallowing. "You've made up your mind?" Dad shifted, and Jake felt a surge of pain in his heart, one that was only mitigated through knowing that this was a step on the right path for him.

"Yes, sir." Jake replied, "I have." The was little else to say. He did not say that he did not need his father's support, though he wanted it. He wanted to know that he had his father in his corner. Jake did not explain the extent of his plans, tell his father about the things he and Sam had begun to discuss.

A ghost of a smile danced across his father's face, "This wasn't what I expected to hear, but if this is what you want, Jacob, you know you have my support." Jake had not expected this reaction. He had expected questions, like when Seth had insisted on law school. There had been nothing but questions then, though in the end, Dad was supportive. Jake was thankful that this hadn't been as difficult as he'd expected, though he guessed it came from his father being a Paramedic. He was highly educated and valued the process of being a medical professional, and what's more, he understood it. His job as a paramedic had kept the ranch going for a lot of years.

Jake paused, "Thanks, Dad." His father was pleased, it seemed, that at least one of them was following in his footsteps. God, he wasn't becoming his father, was he?

Dad nodded carefully, "Have you thought about telling your mother?"

Jake relaxed a bit. His father understood clearly why he had been approached first. "Any ideas?"

The storm in its fury break today crushing hopes that we cherish so dear

Clouds and storm will in time pass away, the sun again will shine bright and clear.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side

Keep on the sunny side of life

It will help us every day

It will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life.

Keep on the Sunny Side, The Carter Family

Sam stared at the box before her. Her name was written on a label on top and she was hesitant to cut through the packing tape and dig into the contents. Gram took of her apron and said, "This is just like getting Christmas presents."

Sam looked at the package. It was a large cardboard box that Dallas had carried home from the post office. Sam knew what this was, and she wasn't sure she wanted to open it. Dad had asked her not to come out to the barn, so she was stuck in the house, facing this. It was daunting. The sound the tape made as Gram ripped it away was loud.

Sam took the bull by the horns, and lifted out the packing list. Slowly, Gram pulled out the textbooks. They were bright and shining, glinting, unused and unmarred by the hands of countless students. They were soft covered, though some were consumable, and some had to be returned. Each textbook came with a course guide. As Gram sorted the resources into piles by course, she realized that they were color coded. The math book was held together by rings, and the cover was mauve. Other courses had other colors, though the realization seemed obvious to Sam once her mind made it.

Sam reached for the purple textbook and the matching outline. It was English. She flipped through the course outline, and saw that each page was an outline of the lesson. The page was filled with pictures and words. Their crisp shapes filled her eyes as the smooth paper filled her senses. The design was really beautiful, and her artist's mind saw how flowing and sensible the progression of the daily work seemed to be. The vocabulary or samples of the text was sometimes included throughout the page. At the bottom of the page was a checklist, one that made it clear everything that needed to be done for the lesson.

This was a blank slate, a fresh start. Sam looked up at Gram. "I think I can do this."

Gram paused as finished pulling out a few computer peripherals. "I never doubted it." She put the box on the floor, "How nice these books are!"

Their crispness was empowering. These books were hers. She could do this, could make this work, could find the beauty in a situation she still wasn't quite sure she wanted, all told. She knew she could. Sam ran her fingers over the spiral rings of the course guide. There was a note stuck to the top of one of the books. Gram passed it to her when Sam tried to reach for it, but flinched because of her side. Sam read it out loud.

Sam-

Welcome to the virtual school offered by the district! I'm Mrs. Church, and I'm your Educational Support staff member. In other words, I'm your homeroom teacher, your guidance counselor, and whatever else you might need to work best with your course teachers. My extension is 4109. I'm in the office during school hours. I'll be calling you once a week, and you're more than welcome to swing by my office anytime you like.

To make sure you understand the computer system, please log onto the CMS and click through your course home pages. Upon each introductory page, you'll find some small quote of inspirational value. When you find one you like, please email me what it is and on which course page you found it. It's a silly quiz, I know, but rules are rules. Please also feel free to tell me anything you like about yourself.

Enclosed in the box, you will find a sign up sheet for our pen pal program, a schedule of events, online clubs, and some other fun stuff. Please fill out them, and the not so fun forms, and have your father sign where I've marked with a red 'X' and return them. You are also more than welcome to have Maxine Ely stick them in the district mail box at the High School.

Looking forward to hearing from you soon!

Best,

Mrs. Church

Sam finished reading and folded the stationary back into the envelope. Gram had already begun to look through the papers. "Mrs. Church seems like a very nice lady. We should make a day of it and go and say hello sometime."

Sam nodded. She had not been aware that there were actual people involved in the process. She had thought that Max would drop off her books, and that would be that. She had envisioned herself sitting at the dining room table, doing copy work. Rather, it seemed that there was a lot to do, and many things she had not understood about this process. There was a lot of online work, it appeared, things like message boards and small group discussion. She was required to have Skype.

Gram, determined to make the best of this, was already pinning the school calendar to the fridge. "There's a cookie party for the high schoolers in a week or so." Gram said, "You should make the drive."

Sam was already trying to stand up. Jake had been right. Her side was killing her, and her forearm looked particularly disgusting. She finally pushed up with the hand that wasn't attached to a bruised arm, and shook her head. She was not going to a cookie party. If she wanted to have a cookie party, she'd be sane about it. She'd make the batter, bake a batch, and then carry the rest of the dough to the living room and watch Pride and Prejudice. That was a cookie party.

The pen's in my hand

Ending unplanned

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten

Unwritten, Natasha Bedingfield

Jake tossed a look at Quinn. Quinn tilted his head in agreement. Jake made a movement he hoped Quinn wouldn't see, and Witch took off like a shot. He heard his brother curse as they left him in the dust. Witch took to flying across the range like she hadn't missed a day of doing it. The air was whooshing all around them, and in the heady moment of action and reaction, Jake came to terms with a conclusion he had reached ages ago and never quite admitted to himself.

Quinn was thundering up behind him on Chip, but Witch evaded the loss of their lead. Jake couldn't help the rush that flitted through him. He wanted Sam. Ayers probably had some kind of spidey sense, and was dancing on his desk without quite knowing why. The old man should be pleased at the breakthrough. That's what it felt like, anyhow. The fact that he was no longer ignoring the sexual desire he felt for her meant that he understood so much about their relationship.

He wasn't saying that this was a forever thing. Sam didn't want the dynamics of their relationship to change. He respected that, even if he did not quite understand how he could want the same thing. His mind was a mess. He felt like, now that he'd thought about that facet of their life together, that he couldn't ignore it. It was there, right there, next to the way he coveted her soft smiles, the way he could never look away when she wrinkled her nose, and his annoyance at some of the things she said and did. He was relieved to find that a desire to run his hands over her body until she moaned and shuddered did not take away from anything else they shared. In some way, the whole facet that was coming to light added value to their friendship, added to his whole understanding of who they were, and the other things they had.

He wasn't comfortable using the word lust to describe what he was feeling, because that wasn't all of it. It wasn't an urge of the flesh, he supposed, as the Pastor might say, but that wasn't to say that there wasn't some part of the whole thing that was. The desire he felt, the way his mind kept going back to the moments they had shared, wasn't the totality of their relationship. It wasn't even the most important part. But, hell, was it fun to think about, even if it did make his palms slick against Witch's reins.

It was fun to think about because it was, really, about Sam. It wasn't fleshly, because it was about their minds and their souls and their hearts, too. They didn't have to check their friendship at the door. He had no idea where his mind was at, but if felt like his body did, right now, flying across the range. He was secure in the saddle as his fingers moved along the reins, asking Witch to slow. Quinn caught up in a few seconds. His brother asked, "You work it out yet?" Quinn asked, thinking that Jake was thinking about how to tell Mom about medical school.

Jake smiled, and shook his head, "I'm a bit closer, I think."

Quinn grinned, "I don't know how you do your best thinking then. Chip would never let me think." He patted the neck of his horse affectionately.

Witch made a snuffly noise. Jake smirked. His horse was clearly the superior one of the sibling pair. It was only rational that they should be fairly matched.

Quinn flipped him off. After a moment of riding, Quinn said something that made Jake pause, "You know, we could probably get the truck out here to fix that gate today."

Jake looked at him askance. They were surveying what needed to be done before they brought the cattle back down to lower elevations for the winter months, which were coming quickly. They were going to be making note of what needed to be done, and starting tomorrow. Wyatt was going to be doing his portion, and Grandfather's team would be involved. Good fences made good neighbors, after all. "Why?"

"Didn't Sam say she was doing this whole thing to get her work back?" Quinn said, "And what's ranching but miles and miles of barbed wire and gates that are forever breaking?"

Jake smiled. She would enjoy sitting out here, even if she couldn't do the heavy lifting right now. He thought for a second, and his enthusiasm was dampened, "She might see through that, like we were giving her easy work or something."

Quinn grinned slowly, "Well, just tell her it's a pretext to get her alone or something." His brother shrugged, and turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Something icy built inside of Jake. Quinn did not know. He could not know. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it, but the idea of their private life, whatever this was that was taking shape between, being known to his brother was abhorrent. "What?"

Quinn blinked back at him, startled by the urgency in his tone. Jake had not realized how the word would sound. He wished he could take it back, get his head on straight. "Geez, take a chill pill. I was just thinking she might want to get out a little. She's not going to hurt telling you how she wants a gate fixed."

Jake tried not to think about the fact that Witch was clearly laughing at him as she shared a look with her brother. He patted her neck. He had no luck or skill with women, clearly.

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you and I don't know if I can do it
Oh, no I've said too much
I haven't said enough

Losing My Religion, R.E.M.

Sam was not going to be held prisoner in the house. Gram was acting all squirrely, and Sam wasn't having it. "Just because I'm working at home doesn't mean I can't leave the house." Sam said. Besides, she couldn't very well do that email to Mrs. Church until she got on the computer, and her computer was charging in the office. "I'm going to get my laptop."

"Now, Sammy..." Gram asked, "Don't you want some lunch?" Sam narrowed her eyes at Gram. They'd already had a lunch, ages ago, one that Gram had insisted on making a big fuss out of, even though it was just the two of them. Everyone else was suspiciously off the radar.

Sam replied, as she moved gingerly towards the door. "We already ate." Sam reminded her grandmother. She did not add that Gram had fussed and fussed over the clean up, like she had never handled a dish. Sam came to the conclusion that something was being hidden from her as a look of desperation crossed her Gram's face.

Testing her theory, Sam put her hand on the doorknob. The door had been fully shut all day, which now made sense to her. Gram called out, "Sam, I really think all is well in the barn. You don't need to worry."

She hadn't been worried, but she was now. Her horses were out there. Who knew what was going on? What if one of the horses were hurt, or the chickens, or something? What if something was really wrong and no one had told her? The idea that she could be so cut out from her life and her roles was painful. Sam opened the door, and went outside, ignoring the twinge in her side as she made her way down the stairs. Gram was upon her instantly. "Sam, he doesn't want you to find out like this." Gram put a hand on her arm, "You come inside, now, and we'll make some cookies."

"I'm not Darrell, Gram! I can't be bribed with cookies." Sam shook her head, and pulled away. "You were very wrong to be so complicent in this."

Sam started to walk away, her eyes watching the ground so that she wouldn't fall. Her flats moulded to every inch of the ground as she crossed it. There was a lot of noise coming from the barn, noise that did not make sense in the day to day operations of the place. Sam hurried along, feeling the material of her knit skirt wrap around her legs as she moved. She wished she had asked Gram to quickly help her with her boots. Gram wrung her hands in her apron as she followed Sam.

Sam gaped as the front of the barn came into view from where she had left the side of the house. There were tools all over the place. Dad's truck was blocking the front entrance, and it was clear that some project was going on, though what it was, Sam did not know. Pepper was there, and he saw her first, standing on the edge of the messy space. He spoke and her father straightened, looked right at Sam, and shook his head.

Gram went over to Dallas, whispering something quickly. Sam scowled, "What's all this?" She looked all around. He had not mentioned one thing about building something for the barn. Her eyes fell on the project. Sam's heart expanded. She felt glad, but embarrassed. No one should have gone to the trouble of all this. She wasn't going to be in the chair forever, and she did not need modifications.

"We're not quite done." Dad said, "You were supposed to stay inside." His hat cast a shadow as he spoke. "What do you think?" He sounded boyish and hopeful. It was kind of him, but Sam hadn't wanted to acknowledge the lack of a ramp on the barn. She was doing just fine without one. She could get the chair over the entryway simply enough.

"I..." Sam closed her mouth, unwilling to say what she was really thinking. She was embarrassed. "You didn't need to do this. I was doing fine." Sam tucked hair behind her ear and looked at her father. "There's a lot to do, and you didn't need to take a day and do this."

The ramp made the barn look really nice. It fit in well, and wasn't something that had been slapped together. The design made it clear. He'd spent a lot of time on this. Sam was embarrassed by it, embarrassed that she had appeared to be struggling so with getting the chair in the barn. She had been, but she would never have said, never. It was a point of pride.

She needed to set that aside, she realized, and acknowledge that this ramp was only a tool, just like the chair, and it would help her and not really hinder anyone else. She needed to acknowledge that what he had done, he had done out of care for her, and a deeper awareness of her life than she had previously given her father credit for. Maybe he did see a little bit of what was going on her life, and what mattered to her. This was kind of him, not only for the ramp, but for the willingness to make changes solely based on her needs.

"This old place needs a bit of sprucing, I think." Dad seemed taken aback that she was paying attention to the effort this was, like she had forgotten how much work went on day to day around here. Dad didn't even get holidays, work never stopped, not really, and the fact that he had taken the time to do this said a lot that she wasn't sure how to put into words. It didn't fit with the image of her father that she had in her head, and was pushing her to really consider his feelings. "There was nothing to it." Dad's gaze was again hopeful, "You like it, then?"

Sam swallowed, "It's great. Thanks, Dad." She paused, "I mean it."

Dad threw an arm around her shoulders, almost unbalancing her. "I figure we'll all need it one day."

Sam did her bit, and helped put in the rest of the ramp, in the context of what she could do, and what they would allow her to undertake. She then tested it out, and there was happiness all around. Sam had not considered that doing this for her would make them happy, but it did. Pepper, Dad, and Dallas, headed off to take care of actual work with smiles on their faces. As she and Gram swept up the debris that were always left behind from construction, Sam apologized, "I'm sorry I said you were wrong."

Gram paused in her sweeping, and laughed. "I was running out of ideas. I was getting desperate." Sam smiled. Gram had been getting desperate to keep her unawares, from turning the radio up to asking Sam's help with her crosswords puzzle, one that she normally finished in a snap. Sam found the lengths that everyone had gone to to be funny.

Sam needed to talk to somebody about how she was feeling. She didn't know if it was normal to feel embarrassed that they had gone to such efforts on her behalf, efforts that she should not need. "I feel embarrassed by this." Sam elaborated as she sat down on the top of a big storage bucket with a screw on lid. Her feet pushed into the ground as she tried to maintain her balance, "A bit ashamed. Like...singled out. Spotlighted." Sam supplied awkwardly, not having the words she needed to describe the feelings she felt.

She looked up then, when she heard Gram move towards her, "I know that everyone was glad to do it, I just wish they didn't have to." Sam didn't have the heart to ask if they were happy to do it because they were doing it for her, or because they felt they had to do it.

Gram looked at her sharply, "Honey, it's a bit of wood and some sweat. Nobody robbed a bank for you." Gram considered her, sitting there on the bucket, "It'll help everyone. It's good for a place to be accessible. When Papa was getting sick, he used to hate that coming in the old barn was so hard. Nobody thought to fix it up for him, and I regret that." Gram paused, getting to what she saw as the heart of the matter, "You've made people think, honey, and that's the real gift. If others can't handle it, that's their problem, never yours."

Sam did not know how to reply. She wanted to believe Gram was right. She mumbled some half convincing platitude, and wandered off to her horses, just needing a little time to think. She'd spent a lot of time lately feeling embarrassed for facts. She had been embarrassed by making her needs known to Jake, and she felt embarrassed about the whole ramp thing. There wasn't really a connection, was there? Sam didn't know. Maybe she was ashamed of her body, on some basic level that flared up sometimes. Maybe she did not want to be seen. Sam corrected her thoughts. She wanted to be seen, but to be seen as her, not as the 'brain injury girl' or somehow different. She got around in different ways, but that wasn't permanent.

If I told you 'bout my sex life, you'd call me a slut

When boys be talking about their bitches, no one's making a fuss

Don't you want to have somebody who objectifies you?

Have you thought about your butt? Who's gonna tear it in two?

We've never had it so good, uh-huh, we're out of the woods

And if you can't detect the sarcasm, you've misunderstood

Hard Out Here, Lily Allen

Sam was working her office, having begun to correspond with Mrs. Church and look over the school website when she felt a heavy gaze upon her. It was warm and comfortable like Dad or Dallas or friendly like Pepper. Sam looked up sharply when she felt prickles down her spine, and not the kind she enjoyed. J.J. came into her office without so much as asking, and turned around and shut the door.

"Get out!" She snapped, unsure if she should grab the stapler or the phone first. What he was doing was incredibly threatening, and Sam felt her heart begin to pound as her mind whirled, considering options and outcomes. "What are you doing?"

"I just want to talk to you." He said, turning around, his slimebucket gaze resting on her body in a way that made her feel very creeped out. "This is a private...issue."

Sam didn't dare move. At least here she could slam her hand down on the intercom system that would link her into the kitchen, and Gram. Sam knew she was 10 seconds away from getting help if she needed it, so she inhaled and said, "If you want to talk about anything, you'll open that door, now."

Sam watched him carefully as J.J. opened the door and sat back down in her chair. "I apologize for frightening you." He shifted forward as she sat down in her chair, "I feel it my Christian duty to speak to you about something I've been seeing since you've come home."

Sam fought the urge to roll her eyes at his pompous formality. She knew Christian duty. That was a duty towards love and service, pouring yourself out on the world. Sam was a Christian, strong in her faith and the worldview it gave her. "Is there an issue with your working conditions?" Sam asked, pushing her swivel chair back into the desk, so as to put as much space as possible between them. He was perhaps a year or two older than she was, but he was downright creepy.

J.J. blushed. "I've never said this to a girl before, but do you think we could take a look at the Scriptures together?"

Sam cut him off quickly, "I'm sorry?" Was he trying to ask her out on some kind of date, or to some kind of Bible Study thing? Either way, she was going to decline with no remorse. He was clinging to his Bible.

He opened the pages, and Sam saw that he had bookmarked a lot of the pages. He turned to one, and read it, before he spoke, very solemnly, "Does your father know that your boyfriend comes into your room every night you're home, Samantha?"

Sam was stunned. Part of her was scared. What did that even mean? Why would J.J. even care? How had he even seen that Jake was around? He always used his key, now, save for when he was locked out, which hadn't really happened. She was nervous, because of course Dad didn't really know. He wasn't asking and she wasn't saying. He knew that she and Jake weren't involved in any way. He trusted her.

J.J. did not, obviously. He continued, his voice filling the stunned silence, "Does he know that you're fornicating in his house?" Sam did not even give that the dignity of a response, didn't even move. "Your father is a good Christian man, and you do him wrong by being a Jezebel."

He didn't even have the guts to use a real word, the word she knew he was thinking. Sam laughed, "Excuse me? A...a...what?" She was laughing, but inside, she was freaking out. His little sexist mind was probably assuming that she would be ever so willing to entertain him, too.

J.J. shifted uncomfortably, flipping pages in his Bible. "I don't mean to offend you, Sam, but you come from an honorable family, and you should try to do better, especially given your...disability." He cautioned her, gently, "It isn't right to sleep with a man before marriage, even if you may never marry. Your father trusts Jake, speaks very highly of him. It would be a shame to see that crumble because you're unable to control yourself. It's your responsibility..."

Sam was furious, unable to see past the veiled threat in J.J.'s words, underneath his assertions that she wasn't normal, that she could never get married because of what happened to her. It was one thing to tell herself those things, but it was quite another to hear it from someone else so they could threaten your home. He was a good for nothing idiot, not for their shared faith, but because of how he was using it to threaten her. She cut him off, with a few questions of her own. "What do you think my father would say about his new employee cornering his daughter in her office to lecture her on sexual ethics and threatening her with lies about her friend? Don't you think he would find it a little bit suspect, J.J., given that you so clearly covet Jake's role on this ranch?"

Sam let it be known exactly how much of a sin coveting was. J.J. must have been concerned at being called out on his game. He came in here, all concern and light, but he had nefarious purposes. It was clear he intended to go to Dad to try to discredit Jake in Dad's eyes, and gain favor in his place. Sam was not going to see that happen. Jake and Dad were so close to healing. J.J. spoke, "Your friend?" His fingers fumbled on his Bible. Sam wanted to whack him across the head with it, and ask him what he thought Jesus would really think about him coming in her and imposing his views upon her, what his God would think of his assumptions. He did not know her, and yet, he was judging her. He had no empathy, and clearly had no desire to gain any.

Still, Sam wanted to give his tiny mind something to think about. He needed to grow up. He would get nowhere in work like this if he thought he could get ahead by putting Jake down. "Jake is my friend, and if you're threatening his role on this ranch, you have another thing coming." She wanted there to be peace in her family, didn't want Jake to be hurting so badly, and she refused to let this little boy even think that he could, in any way, be who Jake was. This wasn't even about what he thought of her. His opinion did not matter. "Say what you will about me, I don't give a flying fuck, but Jake is an honorable man who has done nothing but pour himself into seeing that this ranch thrives when I couldn't."

Sam felt deadly calm as she outlined the facts, told J.J. the truth, even if he lacked the capacity to understand it. "He has done nothing but exceed every expectation my father ever had for him, nothing but be a friend to me when I couldn't even get out of a hospital bed." Sam was enraged, though her voice was deadly calm, like it might be when lecturing a small child who was unaware that they had nearly gotten themselves killed, "You may have filled a job vacancy, J.J., but what goes on here outside of your tasks is no concern of yours."

"I appear to have misjudged you gravely." J.J. apologized, as falsely as he was formal. "I had not realized you were quite so ill." He shut his Bible, and smiled at her.

His smile turned Sam's stomach. It was patronizing and pitying. He had no right to be nice to her as he threw stones at her. "What?"

J.J. stood up, "I'm sorry, Samantha." Before she could tell him anything, he was gone. Sam's hand did not relax on the stapler until she heard him leave the barn, and heard Pepper call out to him.

I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

You're living in the past it's a new generation

A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do

An' I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation

Bad Reputation, Joan Jett

She was incredibly shaken. J.J. was not really a threat to her, beyond the systematic oppression of women that he seemed to twist their shared faith to embrace. He was not going to hurt her. She knew that he wanted this job too much. He thought she was disgusting, and so he wasn't going to come after her. She wasn't going to allow her dwell on that fear. She wasn't going to allow the things he had implied about her to change her life. She was just scared for what he might try to do to the incredibly fragile balance of relationships on this ranch.

She was only just starting to find her feet with Dad. She enjoyed thinking about the ramp, about the progress she was making in her heart, and she didn't want J.J.'s power grab to mess that up. Sam figured he was cheesed because he'd gotten told about leaving his stuff in her office. It was clear to see that he wanted to get in good with Dad. When she really considered it, Sam figured that J.J. probably had thought he was close to Dad, when she was gone. There was no one really to be in his way of whatever he was after. Then, she came home and they weren't as close, anymore, at least not in J.J.'s eyes. How could they be? Sam was his daughter. She had rights here, rights she liked to think she earned. Still, Sam knew that she would have a home here without lifting a finger. Dad must love her, if not for herself, then for the connection she embodied to Mama. He might have abandoned her to Sue, but she was confident that he would not choose some boy he'd just met over her, not even if he didn't much like her.

J.J. must only see what he wanted to see in her relationship with Dad, much like he saw what he assumed in her relationship with Jake. This ranch was her birthright. River Bend was a part of her soul, and J.J. must know that she would never give up her right to it without some kind of nuclear war. J.J. had been comfortable before she was back, but it was clear that she made him uneasy. She was a threat to J.J. He'd tried to silence her in the only way he knew how. He'd tried to control her. He wouldn't.

Really, though, that made a lot of sense to her. If she was a threat to him, well, then, Jake would be doubly so. Jake, he had probably assumed, had been a hand just like him. Then, when Jake had come home, it became increasingly clear that Jake was more like a son to Dad than anything, more a member of the family than an employee. That made Jake a threat to J.J. because J.J.'d had no way of understanding how close Jake and Dad really were, even with this whole mess between them. He'd clearly come to see it though, and was trying to grab for power by threatening Jake.

She could not tell anyone the details of the encounter with J.J. She couldn't. She knew that it would be safest to say something, anything. She just didn't know what to say. The idea of telling Jake was most palatable, but she knew that he would insist on going to Dad. For whatever tension was between them, Jake would not hesitate to call J.J. to the carpet. Dad would no doubt do something. He might be angry about finding out that she had actually not really slept alone in months like this, but he would not stand for her being threatened in her own barn. He just wouldn't.

She did not want Jake to get worked up about the things J.J. had implied about her. She knew she wasn't any of those things, and he knew it, too. His assertions were powerless, because they were meaningless. What he saw as promiscuity, Sam saw as someone's individual choice. She wasn't keen on the idea of having casual sex, no matter what she thought about kissing. But then kissing Jake wasn't casual, in any sense. It was meaningful and special and powerful, because it was built on their relationship. She guessed that free love could be that for people too, just not for her, at least not right now. Sam had no idea. She just knew that it did not really hurt to hear J.J. call her those names, but it would hurt Jake.

It would hurt him. She remembered once that he and Quinn had reacted badly to someone making comments like about her when she was 14 or 15. She didn't remember what had been said, all she remembered holding ice to Quinn and lecturing Jake. He'd gotten this dark look on his face, this hurt look, as she'd stood there and told him that he had to let that kind of stuff go. Those words could only hurt if she gave them power. He would not react well simply because J.J. worked here. In fact, his proximity might make it worse.

Oh I'd love to knock the hell out of you

And if you keep pushin my button I'm going to

So if you're looking for trouble

Tell you what you do

Come over and get some shit knocked out of you

I'd Love To Knock the Hell Out of You, Hank Williams, Jr.

Jake was glad to see the ramp in real life, rather than just on his phone screen. He had thought about bringing it up, but was glad that someone had taken the steps to get it done. Sam's texts had included pictures. Jake knew she was happy, though her texts had been nonexistent for the last hour or more. He was heading down the main aisle, when J.J. called out, "Jake, do you have a second?"

Jake stopped, and turned. The other man was approaching him quickly, "I just want to apologize." The barn was slow, this time of night everyone was off getting dinner. Dallas and Pepper had been grilling, and had called him over, where he had seen Pepper staring at J.J. carefully. He hadn't wanted to stay, given that he was hoping Sam wanted to go home for dinner.

"The job was open." Jake said. It wasn't like J.J. had taken his job. Pepper had, and J.J. had filled Pepper's old roles. Still, J.J. looked uneasy, and Jake wondered what was going on. He really didn't care. He just needed to talk to Sam. He was in a hurry. Frankly, he needed a hug, needed to feel her heat beat, needed to know the things that that complex process told his soul. He needed to breathe and know that she was breathing right there, ready to tell him exactly what she was thinking with no pretext or preamble.

The big chair in the office beckoned. It might be covered with horsehair, but it was big enough to sit for a while."No, man. I didn't realize..." He trailed off. Jake wasn't picking up what he was putting down. He was seconds from turning away, convinced that the guy was overreacting to a job. It was just a job. But then, J.J. continued, and Jake knew that he wasn't going to be moving from this spot until he was sure she was okay. "About Sam..."

A thousand possibilities raced through his mind. She promised not to push it, and Quinn was dragging him out of the door this morning, so what could have done if she had? In the face of his ignorance, the text messages that had kept him feeling like they were together when they were miles apart seemed empty. What if this guy was apologizing to him because something he'd done had hurt her? Jake didn't like the direction his mind was taking.

The stalls were wooden. The air was heavy, the fan was clicking in the office. That meant it was on. Someone was in Sam's office. He put those facts together and tried to keep grounded in the face of one of his biggest triggers. "What?" Jake said, quickly. What about her? The whole thing felt very unspoken, like J.J. was afraid to say a curse word or mention Santa when there was a kid around. They were pretty much alone in the barn. Except Sam. She was there, in her office. He heard her headphones and the click of the fan. Jake's feet started to move that way.

He got half a step away and J.J. followed him. J.J. looked around. "You know, the wheelchair..."

Jake's eyebrow rose. "And...?" What about it? This was one of the strangest conversations he'd ever had, and Ella had made him have conversations with himself, and with puppets for God's sake. He'd talked to puppets, and they were more talkative. He understood a stuffed bit of fabric better than he understood this guy. He was calmer. He was closer to where he wanted to be by half a step. He could call her name and know that she would be there. Jake breathed, and relaxed. He had done this exercise before. It had seemed silly and torturous then, to be on one side of a door, with Sam on the other side in the waiting room, and talk with Ayers, desensitize himself to increasingly more upsetting triggers and not be allowed to bolt, to learn to trust that he could handle it and that Sam was right there and safe. Now, it was the only thing keeping him here.

J.J. put it out there. "I just want you to know that I never would have assumed the things I did about her had I known of her situation. I guess they were things I assumed about you, too, about why you quit, and I don't know..." He rephrased, "It just seems real foolish to me now. I want to square up with you, and her."

"You assumed that I was fired because Sam and I..." Jake suggested, quickly coming up with a theory. J.J., it seemed, had assumed that he and Sam were in a relationship, and that they had gotten caught together, or something. That bit was fuzzy in his theory, but he gathered that J.J. thought he'd been fired because he and Sam had gotten together or some such. What idea or assumptions seemed foolish to this guy now because of Sam's injury? What about it changed anything? The whole thing made no sense.

"Well, you know, Wyatt is an honorable, Christian man, and..." J.J. said, quickly adding, "But I was wrong about how she ended up getting hurt." Ah, so there it was, Jake thought. J.J.'s putrid little brain had painted a picture. Sam, in his tiny little mind, had been with him and gotten hurt coming back from some kind of tryst. Jake bet the little ant had spent ages thinking about Sam's body, about the freckles on the side of her torso, about the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy and the way she exhaled breathlessly when sensations overwhelmed her.

Fury built inside of Jake, but he hid it. He wanted to give this J.J. enough rope to hang himself. Then Jake would kick the chair out from his pompous self. "Why were you were wrong?"

"You're taking care of her, man. It isn't like I assumed it was, at all." J.J. confessed. Jake knew just what his assumptions had been. He found that he liked those assumptions better than these new ones. He would rather people go on assuming what they always had, rather than this new stuff. Who said stuff like this to somebody? Who came up to someone and said that they played some role of caretaker in someone's life, like she was not even a woman, like he was a nursemaid or the Giving Tree? "Pepper tried to tell me just now, but I didn't believe him. I mean, what kind of people honestly have the relationship you really seem to have? The horses, and even your personal stuff..." Jake barely remained still, "I swore there had to be more given how things went down."

J.J. knew nothing about the accident, and Jake wasn't going to tell him anything. Let him assume what he wanted to assume. "But there isn't anything between us because of her injury? Her injury changed our relationship?" Jake frowned, as though confused. Who was this guy to come up to him and tell him that he knew all about his personal life? Who was he to say what was what? And just what had Pepper been saying? Pepper was his friend. Pepper was Sam's friend.

J.J. was all too happy to clarify. "So when I what I've been seeing..." He stopped, blushing, "She's not the kind of girl who can be like that, now. You're a decent guy to stick with her now that your relationship is, uhm, over."

Sam was a girl, then? He didn't give her the respect of calling her a woman? Jake knew better than to stand here and listen to this guy call Sam loose in one breath, and then, in the next, say that she was somehow no longer a woman. He had been provoked with less. Jake tried to put the pieces together. This is why he was apologizing, Jake thought. He was apologizing for even thinking that Sam was wholly a person, wholly an adult woman, never mind that he had assumed some very negative things about that fact, assumed that her supposed choices were mistakes. Jake remembered that when they had met, Sam hadn't been in the chair. He had obviously seen it, thought about it, and let it shape some of his little theories. He had gone from seeing Sam as a fantastic, empowered, woman who made choices no matter what anyone thought to seeing her as a someone else that needed to be taken care of but never treated as an adult, in the blink of an eye, because of the wheelchair. He was pontificating now because he had never gotten Jake alone.

So that's how it was in J.J.'s mind. Sam was a foolish woman who paid for her mistakes by getting hurt and became infantilized. Jake, though, he was some kind of saint, or so J.J. seemed to be saying. What a misogynistic double standard. Sam had gotten hurt, and Jake was standing by her. He had chosen her, so now he was stuck with her, because he was some kind of nice guy who made commitments and stuck by them, no matter how much that caused him to suffer. His earlier words came back to bite him in the behind. He had picked her, yes, and he would continue to choose her, place her above all others, but it wasn't some damn sacrifice, not like J.J. was saying. He picked Sam because he wanted her, wanted nothing more than to see her and know what she was thinking. The things he gave up to have her in his life weren't things he wanted, not really.

He wasn't stuck with her out of guilt, or even responsibility. He stuck beside her because she was the light in his entire world. Who ended up with a friend like Sam and walked away, over something like this, over anything? It wasn't like he was a martyr. It was more than that. He chose her, not because of what he was, or what she was in his life, but because of what they were together, what she made him feel. He picked her, put her first, because she was his best friend. She was his best friend because Sam understood him, cared about him, saw him for who he was, and believed that he could be the person he wanted most to be, not because they were stuck together, but because she loved him.

She loved him. Sam loved him. Jake's mouth dried, and his heart raced. That was the word. It wasn't family, or unit, or anything like that. Maybe it was. They were a family because she loved him, and because he loved her. He loved her, loved her with every bit of his soul. That was why they understood each other, believed in each other, saw in each other what on one else would ever see. Their foundation of their bond was a lifetime of being together because they loved each other.

Now that he had thought it once, he couldn't stop thinking it. Nothing seemed so confusing anymore. He loved her, always had, and he didn't have to choose anything, didn't have to sacrifice their friendship for another part of their relationship. He already had chosen her, chosen whatever they did or would one day have...because they loved each other. He had chosen the second he'd thrown his bags in the truck, said "screw it" to everything here and gone to Sam. He belonged with her because he loved her. There was nothing left over to give some girl like Viola because he'd already given everything he had, already taken everything Sam was willing to give, to build the kind of relationship that excluded anyone who wanted to come between that.

That's why J.J.'s words were so off the wall and wrong. Jake loved her. He loved her, and because he loved her, the things he felt about her body, the indignation he felt about J.J's assertions about her sexuality and her femininity, they were right and holy.

"Been spending a lot of time thinking about our personal life, huh?" Jake mocked, borrowing every bit of Darrell's influence he could. The 'our' was completely intentional, and the other man paled slightly.

J.J. scoffed, and Jake could see where he could come off as a nice guy, you know, if he didn't go around judging other people's sexual ethics, making up theories out of nothing, and then insulting people in their own barn. "Come on, you know what I'm saying."

He didn't want to kick the crap out of J.J., not right now, not when he was feet away from putting the entire universe to rights again. He didn't want his hands to be stained with J.J.'s blood when he brushed the hair back from Sam's eyes. It was a silly fear, but he didn't want the taint of violence anywhere near her. He didn't want to hurt somebody and then turn around and tell her her loved her. There were better ways to show her that. "No." Jake said, simply, "I don't."

J.J. hurried to dig his own grave, saving Jake the work. "It's just, I spoke to her, you know, about you going into her bedroom at night, asked what her father said about it, and she..."

"Is that so?" Jake cut him off, his tone revealing exactly what he thought about that. His theories about J.J.'s ideas shifted to encompass this new bit of information. "And you're bringing it up, why?"

"To apologize, Jake." J.J. insisted, shifting his weight, "I thought all kinds of things about it, but..."

"J.J., do you like your job?" Jake asked, patronizingly. J.J. did not catch the snide note in his tone. Jake wished he had been here when he'd said whatever he'd said to Sam. It would have been so much easier to get him fired.

The young man nodded. Jake guessed he was fresh out of high school. Life hadn't gotten her hands on him yet, and when she did, it was going to be one big mess. No one who went around talking like this and thought they were being nice were anything life looked at with respect. "Oh. Well." J.J. said, "Any advice on how to do the job, you know, because you did it?" J.J. looked hopeful, like they were friends.

Maybe Jake wasn't any good at intimidating people anymore. Maybe he had gone soft or something. Sam said that he could be very intimidating. He was also very smart, she said, when he wasn't being an idiot, so he decided to do the smart thing. "Yeah. I would think really hard about opening your mouth. Think really hard about what you're saying, and if it doesn't have something to do with the task you were assigned, then you keep your mouth shut, and your head down." Jake finished, and he walked away. The boy had asked for advice hadn't he?

How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable

So condescending unnecessarily critical

I have the tendency of getting very physical

So watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle

Harder to Breathe, Maroon 5

At the sound of movement behind her, Sam pulled off the headphones, but they got stuck in her hair, so she ended up all tangled when she tried to move away. She saw the look on Jake's face, heard him trying not to laugh, and threw her pen at him, "Don't laugh at me." Sam wasn't in the wheelchair, so she got up and plopped in the old recliner. "You can't sit here now."

"Sorry." Jake replied, even though he wasn't. Sam grinned, and felt a huge weight leave her heart as he smiled back at her.

It wasn't until she felt Jake there with her that Sam realized how unsettled she had been. He shifted slightly as she stood, a rather strange light in his eyes. She saw that same inflection in his gaze all the time, when she stole the last of the M&Ms without telling him, when she cuddled so close to him in the night that he nearly fell of the bed, when she was lucky enough to tell him something he hadn't yet figured out for himself, but never had she seen it so brightly for no reason whatsoever. "Ready to go?"

I am not an angry girl but it seems like I've got everyone fooled

every time I say something they find hard to hear

they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear.

And imagine you're a girl just trying to finally come clean

knowing full well they'd prefer you were dirty and smiling

And I am sorry

I am not a maiden fair and I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

Pretty Girl, Ani DeFranco

Sam shut the computer lid, and turned to look around her office. She could hear J.J. working in the barn, having had no idea he was there because of her headphones. She didn't dare say anything now. Sam simply nodded, hoping to get out of the barn for the first time in forever.

Jake shut the door to her office, and followed her down the aisle. Sam was hoping to get by without a word to J.J., but he seemed intent on quizzing Jake on the job, like some brown noser. Sam knew better. She couldn't very well tell Jake that J.J. was trying to usurp his role here while in front of J.J. She kept trying to shoot him "let's go!" looks as the conversation dragged on like a wounded fly, kicking its legs in the last few moments of life when the fly swatter had just missed ending its life cleanly.

Sam was uneasy. Jake's gaze shifted when he looked at her. It was scorching, unreadable. Sam did not allow herself to scoot just a tiny bit closer so that Jake could touch her. She did not want J.J. to judge it. It wasn't his business, and he didn't need to see what Jake was doing to her without a single touch to her body. Her knees nearly knocked together until she realized that Jake was taunting J.J., making snide remarks so subtly that they that had to be clearly obvious. Jake's fingers brushed across her wrist, leaving a trail of fire to spread throughout her body. She didn't think he realized, so easy was the gesture. It was the same thing they'd done a million and half times. She knew she had to make the fact that they were friends clear.

Sam shifted away, knowing that Jake was subconsciously in her space, knowing that no friend stood this close to each other so easily. Still, she followed the conversation, and when she reached up to smooth back her hair when Jake grinned over at her like they had a shared secret, she dropped her hand to her side quickly, careful to hide the tattoo on her wrist that the action regularly displayed. J.J. was looking at her as they spoke, judging every inch of the interactions between her and Jake. God, was her body language really that open around Jake? She knew that J.J. was watching. Sam put her foot down then. She wasn't on display for anybody, especially not somebody who was out to get them.

They got in the truck, silence heavy and oppressive around them. Sam looked at Jake. There was fire and laughter in his eyes, "Did you enjoy that?" Her tone was far sharper than usual.

Jake's reaction was quick, far too quick, Sam thought. She narrowed her eyes as he asked, "Enjoy what?" He was trying to throw her off the scent of something. The duplicity annoyed her like none other.

"Taunting J.J. with tales of the 'job.'" Sam snapped, shutting off George Strait with a sharp twist of the dial. "Are you an idiot? Or are you high? You must know that he was pumping you for information." She shifted tensely against the seat as they drove.

"Yeah?" Jake grinned, "So? Let him have it." Sam was furious at his easy reply. How could he not care? He was playing right into J.J.'s hand, and he didn't even see it! Sam grew increasingly angry as she tried to control her reply. How dare he act like he was doing it on purpose. Oh, she knew that Jake had been, but if only he saw what J.J. was up to, what he really wanted. If he knew what he was up to, there was no way that conversation would have just taken place.

"Let him have it?" Sam repeated. Jake nodded as he turned onto the dirt road on Ely land that would lead to the house at Three Ponies. "I can't even believe you."

"Why?" Jake asked, quickly. He repeated himself when she did not reply. There was little she could say, "Sam. I'd like to know what has you biting my head off." His hands were tense on the steering wheel as he parked the truck on the side of the road. Clearly, they were not moving until they discussed this. They were having a discussion. Damn Ella for her rule that, when having a discussion, the discussion needed to halt all other activity.

Sam knew that she could insist they keep on moving. Instead, she stared out the window at the desert landscape. "You know he wants to replace you." Sam thought it best to leave the whole thing at that. It was a good summation of the entire crappy situation.

"He's not going to, is he?" Jake pressed. Sam looked over at him sharply. He wouldn't, not if she had anything to say about it. She'd sooner burn River Bend to the ground and dance in the flames than hand it over to anyone else.

"Look. I'll talk to Dad." Sam promised, understanding for the first time that maybe River Bend meant as much to Jake as it did to her. Sam thought that that promise settled the matter. She would talk to Dad, and he would call off J.J., somehow.

Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, your heart, as well as your body?

And can you lie next to her, and confess your love, your love, as well as your folly?

And can you kneel before the King and say I'm clean, I'm clean?

White Blank Page, Mumford & Sons

Jake's heart, possessive and raw, was pounding as he shifted to look at Sam. The unease in her eyes was staggering. Her words didn't make any sense. "What's your father have to do with the fact that that..." Jake did not supply the word he was really thinking, not one out of the thousands that entered his mind as he'd stood in the barn and realized that J.J. was interested in Sam, in his own little creepy way. That's what the whole conversation they'd had had come down. J.J. was surveying his prospects, assured that the whole thing was wide open for him to make a move or something.

Jake had seen him watching Sam, as he'd cornered them under the pretext of asking more job related questions. Jake hadn't wanted to tell him to get lost before they found his body in bits and pieces across the state in front of Sam until he explained the conversation he and J.J. had had shortly before. A feeling of dread ripped through him. Was she interested in J.J.? She was not fickle or whatever, but she had the right to find people interesting. He didn't know if J.J. was good looking, though he had a lot of people fooled. Jake dropped the sentence and asked a question, "You know he's interested in you, right?"

She laughed at him, again. Why did she always laugh at serious moments? There was a tense note in her laughter, as wide as the seat separating them. "You're insane." She looked back at him quickly, "I would never..."

Jake got the idea that the conversation Sam had had with J.J. had not been about assuring him that she was single. "What happened when he spoke to you?" Sam was silent as she shook her head, and awkwardly navigated her seatbelt to take it off. Jake met her halfway, and wished he could smooth out the tension in her muscles when she settled over him. "Sam."

She looked him directly in the eye. "He wants your job, you know." Sam replied, passion and fervor entering her voice as she explained what she was thinking more fully, "He wants to be what you are to Dad. He wants River Bend, wants to play King of the Range on my ranch. He's not going to get it. He's not going to be buddy buddy with Dad, and he's not going to discredit you to do it. That's why I am so angry at you. He was trying to get information to use it to make you look bad."

Jake exhaled. That was it. That's what she was so upset about? The ranch. Right. This he could respond to rationally. People said he was possessive, but they had never met Sam, felt the all encompassing way in which she gave of herself to the people and the things she believed to be hers. "That's just foolishness, Sam. He's barely worked there a few months." He could never replace anybody, not him, and her, if that was the root of the problem. They were secure. She was secure. J.J.'s job was no threat to her. Jake reached up and ran a hand through Sam's choppy waves, framing her face with his hand as he let her hair fall through his fingers like fire shot silk.

"And yet!" Sam cried, shifting her hips so slightly that he didn't even think she realized it. He did, though, and it nearly derailed his train of thought as her knees dug into him. How they always ended up sitting like this was an utter mystery to him, but it was one he didn't feel the need to solve. Like this, Sam was all around him. "And yet, he's all up in our business like he owns the place."

I don't want another heartbreak

I don't need another turn to cry, no

I don't want to learn the hard way

Baby hello, oh no, goodbye

But you got me like a rocket

Shooting straight across the sky

It' s the way you love me

It's a feeling like this

It's centrifugal motion

It's perpetual bliss

It's that pivotal moment

It's, ah, impossible

This Kiss, Faith Hill

His heart was racing but he knew they had to focus. The touch was reassuring and comforting even as her proximity was enthralling. How completely he loved her, Jake realized. She loved him too, he could feel it, even as he longed to hear her say it. He knew that he had to share his thoughts, as coherently as possible, ones that scared him. Thoughts, thoughts of J.J. robbing him of her joy and her affection. J.J. would never love her, never know in his soul that he existed solely to live life by her side, worship her mind and cherish her heart. Jake swallowed. "What business? He...asked me about us, Sam. I think he's interested in you, and I think he's trying to use the ranch to show off what he knows to impress you."

"Nope." Sam said confidently. Sam's whole body lit with a smile as she knocked his hat off, pushing it over the seat into the back. "He's operating under the impression that you and I are having a very passionate affair under Dad's nose." The words on her lips sent some very pleasant images into Jake's mind, ones he would have enjoyed telling her about, "He also thinks I'm ill, or something. I've no idea." Jake's mouth was open to tell her what J.J. had said to him, when his breath was stolen. Her mouth dropped to his ear, "Bet you he thinks the chair's a turnoff. I don't care, really, so long as he doesn't corner me in my office again."

The chair was immaterial. A tool, one that gave her the rough patches on her fingers that were slowly pushing up his shirt over his body in ways that caused his muscles to contract involuntarily, almost as though they could feel her hands before they got there. Her whisper sent fire rushing through his blood until he processed the words. Jake's hands froze as they ran over her body. What had previously been comforting and soothing and companionable shifted to something raw and emotionally laden. "He cornered you? How?" He'd needed one reason to throw the kid out onto the skids, and now he had it. He did not like thinking of Sam vulnerable to that boy. She was, though, physically, if not mentally or emotionally. She was incredibly strong, but her body was slight and called to him in some deeply primal way to protect her, keep her safe, even though he knew she didn't really need him to do it. She had a good head on her shoulders, but he hated that he hadn't been there. The slightness of her body as it pressed down into him made him feel incredibly blessed by her. The idea that someone could see her differences as weakness to be exploited made him angry.

Sam made a humming sound against him that sent a mutual shiver through them, one that started deep within him. She breathed deeply for a few seconds, and said, "Like I said, he's really into moral, uhm, purity." Jake figured she'd made her intentions pretty clear. He stopped trying to hide from her and slid outward on the seat a bit, taking them both with him. Sam dug her hands into the top of the seat as her weight rested upon him more fully, and Jake wished they were back on him as she arched her back, pressing every inch of her body against him.

Jake fought the urge to groan, as whatever this was ratcheted up about a thousand degrees as they got lost in sensation. Sam saw it, of course, because she could read his every expression. He had to focus. She was saying something about being cornered in her office. That was bad, very bad, because it hadn't been him there, locking them in the office, and using that ugly recliner for the very reason God, in His infinite wisdom, had created the thing. God, he wished they were there, just like this, now, in that ugly recliner.

"Talk to me." Jake insisted. He wanted Sam to tell him exactly what she wanted, wanted to hear her say the words. He wanted to know that the small exhalations she was making as he ran his fingers over the back of her knees felt as good as he prayed it must. In this, at least, he was thankful that he knew so much about her body, so much that could be applied in new ways. He wanted to know every feeling that was reflected in the eyes that were fastened to his, wanted her words. He removed his hand from just under the hem of her skirt and let it fall again, the yellow fabric contrasting his fingers. "Tell me." Tell me you love me, he prayed, tell me.

Sam's eyes were as glazed as he felt. She was soft and warm. She frowned as Jake fisted his fingers in the hem of her dress to keep from running his hands up her legs. Touching her knees had been enough, because he could feel the pleasure she derived from it, but now that he'd stopped, he wondered how it was enough for the both of them. Sam swallowed, "So he thought he could show me the error of my, uhm, fornicating, Jezebel-ing ways, because, you know, girls like me..." Her breath hitched as she broke off. Jake thought that maybe her reaction had something to do with him pulling the skirt of her dress away from her body. He loved this dress, loved it, was officially obsessed with the woman who wore it.

Sam continued, her voice barely above a whisper as she complied with what he'd asked to her do. She seemed to be fighting with her brain and her lungs to find the words and force them out of her body as her chest heaved between them. Jake ran his hands up the back of her her thighs, felt her skin pebble, hoping to help her find equilibrium that he was rapidly losing. The action made her entire body tremble, her legs nearly catching his hands as they came together reflexively, the buttons on the front of the dress dig into the cotton of his shirt. Her words lost much of their coherence, as did his thoughts, "It was a threat...not even about me. He wants to discredit you to Dad."

She inhaled intently as Jake pushed the thin strap of her dress off of her shoulder, running his thumb down over the side of her shoulder. She'd said yellow wasn't her color, but the thing was gold, he'd realized, as golden as the flecks in her skin. He loved seeing it hang in his closet, knowing that it had been there with his clothes before she'd put it on her body. He especially loved it now, wrinkled and rumpled, moulded to her body. "Weak, so the only thing he could find to criticize was assumptions he's made." Sam seemed to rejoice as the last of the words left her mouth, "He's been spying on the bedroom window..."

That was like a bucket of ice upon him. Two things hit Jake at once. His mind sobered almost painfully as he realized how exposed they could be now. Their ragged breathing filled the cab of the truck. That boy, that idiot, would never see them together again, not in the quiet moments of the night when Sam's awful nightgowns twisted around his legs, when she got cookie crumbs in the bed, and he could be bothered by the crumbs because he was so happy to see her eating again that he would have broken them up himself if it made her happy. No one else would ever see this between them.

Sam seemed to know what he was thinking. She smiled softly, a shot of tenderness in a a moment that was spiraling like wildfire around them. Her slick skin was hot against his jeans, then, and not the dress. Jake's own breathing nearly stopped as his face filled with whatever blood his body had left. He was amazed there was enough in his veins to make him blush. Sam answered the question he didn't have the ability to voice aloud with a tilt of her head. The realization sent a ribbon of shock and awareness through him. He didn't know why he found their location and her reaction shocking now, when seconds ago, she had been the most arousing thing in the world. She still was, but they deserved more than this.

Jake studied Sam's eyes carefully as the world came into view around them. They were passionate and trusting and yearning. Jake realized that the cool air in the cab was freezing his lungs as he breathed. They came falling back away from the edge, painfully, receding from the precipice of wherever they'd been with the realization that they were still in the truck. Not like this, Jake decided, and tried his damnedest to pull himself together, as Sam shook her head and shifted away. She wasn't what J.J. said she was. Not her, not ever, not when she had so willingly opened her soul completely to him, with trust, and confidence, and knowingness. The word stung. J.J. would never see her like this. She wasn't all of those awful names, no matter what they'd nearly done.

In fact, what they'd nearly done had proved J.J. wrong on so many levels. J.J.'s assertions about her injury were wrong. They just were. Jake didn't know why anyone would assume that she was somehow less of a person, less deserving of love and affection and joy and passion because of one change in her life. The fact that she was suddenly not a person in this very basic way made no sense. Apparently, there was something wrong with them both. Apparently, Jake had to see past her injuries to feel as he did about her, and the whole thing just ticked him off. Still, he knew that he needed to stop. He couldn't go farther than this, not now. He hoped she would understand, and if she didn't they would talk, but he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to.

Jake hissed into her shoulder as he tried to breathe. Sam was shaking, trembling, frustration and loss clear on her face, "Sorry." He apologized, "Sorry. Can't." They couldn't do this now, they both knew it. Jake could feel Sam's agreement as she nodded. He couldn't even think, couldn't even breathe. He'd been so close. She'd been close, too. He had no idea how he'd held off. Jake realized that he probably hadn't had as much resolve as he'd hoped. "Jesus."

Sam's teeth grazed his shoulder as she flopped onto her side of the seat. Jake looked up, hoping she hadn't hurt herself in the movement. How she could even move made him blink. She caught the look on his face, "You have to let words like them go, Jake. They're social constructs that don't matter. I wish you wouldn't let it hurt you so badly."

How could she even summon up the resolve to speak? Her noticed that every inch of her skin was flushed. Jake blew out a breath. "Five minutes and then we'll go home."

"I'll move when my mind doesn't feel like mush...and my body doesn't feel like a..." Sam sighed, her hands lying limply at her side as she slumped in the seat, "I don't even know. All the words I can think up are ones you won't want to hear." She shot him a glance, "I'm just going to sit here and think about throwing myself in the La Charla."

Jake understood. He was trying to think about somebody ugly in a dress, much as forcing the imagery hurt, mentally and physically. Unfortunately for him, any negative image he called up faded almost instantly, leaving the image of a yellow dress pulsating in his brain in time with Sam's slowly calming breathing.

When I light the fuse I gotta get back quick

You gotta be careful with a dynamite stick

Son of a gun she's fun to handle and she packs a punch like a roman candle

She's a pack of black cats in a red paper wrapper

My little darlin' is a firecracker

Firecracker., Josh Turner

Sam made one rule for herself as she got in the shower. She was not going to think about anything that had happened in the truck, or anything that had almost happened, or what did actually happen. She was going to let go, and let the universe ordain what it might. Analyzing this did no one any good, not when all they really wanted was to feel. She was going to chill, she was going to be as chill as the cold water rushing over her body. Dinner was delayed because Luke had asked for it to be, though why she did not know, or care. Sometimes, no one ate until very late because they were all in the barn. Sam was just glad she could get a shower without anyone asking questions about her flushed face or her rumpled dress.

Sam soaped her hair, and found herself thinking as she adjusted to the cool water. Halfway through wondering why Jake would find her physical responses so startling, she forced herself to stop thinking. Sam quickly showered and made her way carefully down the stairs. They weren't waiting on her yet, thank goodness. She helped Quinn to set the table, and he grinned, "Guess it really is warm out today. Jake went up to take a shower himself."

He was completely unaware that Sam's hands trembled as she set out forks. "Right." Sam replied, "I guess we have to wait for him." Sam helped to set out the glasses, and put ice in them, not allowing herself to think about that same ice against her skin. She needed to get her head on straight.

He came down not ten seconds after that, and carried the roast chicken in from the kitchen, Max following in quickly with two big bowls of vegetables. Luke carried in the potatoes, and they all sat down to eat. Jake put a hand on her elbow as she shifted over on the bench to make him room, though once seated, he kept his hands off of her knees. Sam thanked God in her heart for that one inaction.

Sam searched her mind and her heart for unease, or awkwardness, remorse, or regret. She could only find regret that he still hadn't kissed her. How he could make her feel as she had felt and not even kiss her, not once, was mystifying and did not bode well for her control. The idea of him kissing her, or of her kissing him, as seemed more likely given that she had instigated both encounters, felt right, inevitable. She did not feel one hint of shame or regret, and if J.J. wanted to label her as a jezebel or a freak for it, that was fine with her, so long as it was Jake that was right there with her, stealing moments with her, breathing harshly in her ear, even as they were both unsure as to what they were really doing.

Jake got her attention with a small touch to her wrist. He was going to tell Max, then, about medical school. She nodded in agreement, they had this. His expression said that he was worried about a blow-up, and Sam frowned in mock frustration. He understood that this just had to be done. Sam took another spoonful of mashed potatoes, and proceeded to pretend to be intent upon them as Jake spoke, "Mom, I've been thinking about graduate school."

Max set down her glass. "That's wonderful, Jake." Sam loved Max but she hated her tone. She acted like Jake was throwing away his life through doing online classes. It was good enough for her, but not for Jake, and the disparity rankled. Jake would never abandon his dreams. Granted, they might change, but he'd never give up. The idea that Max acted like he needed so much encouragement bothered Sam, sometimes. Now was one of those occasions. Max said, happily, "I hear Reno has a good Criminal Justice M.A."

Sam just bet she had heard all about Reno, because Max loved UNR. Sam was hopeful that Jake would use this chance to break it to his mother that he just might go to Reno, but for another reason. Sam realized that she must have conveyed the idea to him in her expression, as Jake looked away from her, and said, "The medical school is there, too, Mom."

His voice was soft, and had Max looking at Luke quickly. Luke confirmed his wife's silent question, asking, "This is what you want, Jake?"

Jake nodded. Sam knew that he especially loved his mother. Who wouldn't love Max? Sam was silent, and watched as Max processed this information quickly, "What does this mean for your education now, Jake?" Max latched onto an idea, one that she was still clinging to, no matter what Jake said to indicate otherwise, "You'll go back in the Spring, then, as it's too late to go back now."

Sam hadn't thought of that. She hadn't even allowed herself to consider it. She tried to gather up the nerve to ask him to clarify. Jake did without her asking, an calmly firm denial crossing his lips, "No. I can do more here. The school has lab agreements all over the state. The closest one is barely a half-hour from here."

Sam hadn't known that he'd found a lab space. Maybe he'd done that this morning, she didn't know, but she knew she was going to have to wait for the details. Jake seemed to be running out of steam. Sam was glad to be next to him as he was able to say softly, "Shadowing?"

Quinn shot her a grateful look, and Sam realized that he was also searching for a way to fill the silence. Jake started, becoming excited, "Right. So I've got a shadowing set up with Dr. Haskins to start Monday, and I..."

Max looked flabbergasted and Sam knew that she had done the wrong thing, "You've begun to lay the foundation, then? I..." she paused, "Of course you don't need my help."

There was anger and hurt in Max's tone. Jake looked at Sam for help, which she provided, "He doesn't want you to be hurt. He's thought a lot about this, you know."

"I'm the last to know." Max surmised, looking at her sons, her husband, at at Sam. "Did anyone tell you, Jacob, that this dream, this goal of yours, is going to change everything about your life? Did anyone mention that medical school isn't some lark?" She wasn't trying to hurt Jake, Sam realized, only make him see all of the outcomes. Any mother might do this, though Sam realized slowly that they'd already had these conversations between them, "I know why your father has encouraged this, but I'd like to know why you have, Sam."

Sam blinked back at her. There was no anger in Max's question. It was honest, and so Sam gave her the most honest answer she could, "Because he wants it, Max, and he believes in it, and he's got a right to pursue this because of what it means to him today, no matter what it might mean tomorrow."

Max stared at her, unblinking. Sam felt like this woman, the woman who had stepped alongside Gram to raise her, could see deep into the marrow of her bones, see the fact that she loved and trusted Jake without question even in those deepest and darkest places. "And I suppose that if he goes, you will, too."

"When he does." Sam corrected Max gently. If he wanted this, nothing would stop him, nothing. She did not need to finish the reply. That other fact should be clearly obvious. Why was that even a question?

Sam knew the conversation wasn't over, but at least everything was out in the open. Sam sipped her water and realized that there was a lot to think about, chief among them, the gentle, united, comforting, thoughts that were filling her mind when Jake took her hand. He passed the potatoes, and Sam nearly dropped the spoon when the prayer, "God, I love him so much." ran through her mind as though she had thought it a million and half times. It was only later that she realized that, in fact, she had been thinking that very same thing for as long as she could remember.

What if it's you?

What if our hearts were meant to be one?

What'll I do,

Knowing that I'll never love anyone as much as I do love you?

What if it's true?

What if it's you?

What if it's You, Reba McEntire

After dinner, Jake and Quinn started kibitzing like old women. Quinn asserted after a tense and awkward clean up that he was going to go fix a gate. Sam looked at Jake, wondering why that required his input. Her shrugged and picked up a book. She slid on her clogs and wandered to the swing, Gal weaving in and out of her feet. In the last hour, it had become increasingly clear that she loved Jake, though she had no idea when the thought had come to her now that it was there. She loved him, loved him, loved him. There was no blinding moment for her, no moment when she looked at him and realized that he occupied a space in her soul that was only defined by love.

It was love, and the complicated kind. It was not simple puppy love. She realized they'd outgrown that at five. What they had, though, was amazing. It was the kind of love people prayed for, but never asked what they might get when they found it. She knew without a doubt that he was the most frustrating, annoying, noble, complicated, taciturn, man she had ever known. It was the kind of love based on a bone deep understanding of each other, and what she would do to keep him in her life. She also knew that she would let him walk away, would push him out the door if she knew it to best for him.

God, she prayed as she fumbled to find the swing with her behind, what was she going to do? She knew now, all too clearly, why her body was attune to Jake, why his embrace provided a space for her to be wholly herself. Gal begged for attention. Sam provided it, feeling the dog's corse hair on her fingers. She loved Jake Ely. It wasn't so simple as all that, though. She still didn't know if she wanted a relationship, and she was terrified that if he knew that she loved him, he would drift away, somehow, become removed from her. She could never bear losing her best friend, not for anything, not even for a different future.

The books all said that love went a certain way, but maybe those books were bull. Maybe they could do their own thing, find their way through love as they had through friendship. Sam had never had a crush on Jake, and yet, he made her crazy with desire with one brush of his fingertips. She had never worried if he liked her, never agonized if he thought she was pretty. That would be crazy. She had never idealized him as a man. It was hard to idealize Jake when she knew him, knew that he snored and left socks on the floor, and was so moral that he saw his role in the world as one of service. It was a hard to idealize a man she loved. It seemed totally at odds with what love really was, knowledge and care and respect and unity in imperfection and strength. It was in knowing him, in respecting him, in seeing him as someone who deserved everything he worked for, no matter if it would mean leaving, that she knew she loved him.

Their love would never be storybook. They would never have the silly story of falling in love. Sam figured she'd been in love with him her entire life in one way or another. A request that had started as a quest to help her feel physical sensations had, in effect, forced her to confront her emotions. Being wrapped up in his arms this afternoon, on the brink of forever, had taught her something about herself. She would never have felt half the physical things she felt with Jake if she did not trust him, want to know him in every way, care about him in a way that was both internal and selfish and external and giving. All of those things, to her, were love. It was as simple and as complex as all of that. She would never have been in those moments as she had been if she did not love him. Thoughts of forever would not have been swirling in her brain if it was nothing more than a quick fumble.

Their contact, if she thought about it logically, wasn't really about their sex drives. She wasn't stupid, knew exactly what various things meant and wasn't foolish or prudish enough to deny her obvious want or even his, but she knew, that for them, a lot of the contact was about touching, knowing each other, rather than the end goal of sex. Jake focused on areas in her body that he knew well, the back of her knees, the sensitive slope of her shoulders, her legs, her arms, the tiny smattering of freckles that he seemed to lavish with attention. It was all about sensation, and Sam couldn't bring herself to compare it, to wonder if it might be different before the accident. In this, it didn't matter, because she wouldn't trade what this was, not for anything. It didn't matter that her brain and her body were messed up, because that messed up brain and body were creating her end of whatever was developing between them.

Sam thought back to her frustrations that her sensations had changed because her mind had changed. That was true. She had changed, her heart and her mind and her soul, had changed. Without the interpretation of information to color facts, Jake's touch could theoretically feel like J.J.'s might. She had to embrace her subjectivity, and use it to create space for herself in this new world. The first step, Sam realized, was being honest about the biases she would never be able to change. Loving Jake was one of those things. She could never unknown it, could never shake it, now that she saw it for what it was. Sam leaned against the rope, felt the rope abrade her fingers. She closed her eyes and thought and felt, resting her weight against the swing and the tree's veiny bark.

Her eyes snapped open as Jake's hand came down on her shoulder gently, "You shouldn't sleep out here." He asserted. Sam looked around, noting that the dog had trotted off and it was now pitch black. Her body was aching from leaning on the swing, her side pulsating like a bleeding wound. Sam tried not to remember how soft and gentle Jake's fingers had been on that part of her body this afternoon when he'd lavished attention upon her. Jake sat down next to her.

Sam leaned against him, and asserted, "Not sleeping." She yawned. "I'm just thinking."

Jake's hand splayed over her back, "About what?" The crickets and the bugs were loud around them, and Sam knew that this moment would never come again. The moon was hidden, allowing starlight to shine through, illuminating their world in colors of the night as the sun set.

She threw caution to the breeze, released her words to the wind. The universe might ordain things, but God had given her a heart, and a mind, and a soul, and it was on her to make sure that she used them."Basic facts of the universe, you know, like how the stars are beautiful, and how you're an idiot."

Those things would never change. Jake laughed, a soft chuckling sound that made her heart glad. He didn't disagree, "Why am I an idiot this time?"

Sam's smile was wide. She looked at Jake, and released it all to the universe, gave her hopes to God as she placed her trust in Jake's hands. "Because even though I tell you all the time, you need the words to hear me saying that I love you."

Their breath filled the silence between them. Sam felt her blood rush in her ears as she felt like she had thrown herself over into nothingness, with no safety net. Jake's slow reply was confident, self-assured. "You're wrong."

"I am not!" Sam cried, "Here I am, telling you I love you, and you say I'm wrong?" Oh, she was going to kill him just as soon as she figured out the best way to get his dead body into the desert. What was going on here? Was he denying her emotions, even though they had been plainly evident for decades, because he didn't care as she did? "What is your problem?"

"I love you, too." Jake replied, lacing his fingers through hers. "And I've known how you feel forever."

Sam grinned, as she put her head back on his shoulder. "Liar." The kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within her would never be translatable into words. She would never forget this feeling, this feeling of knowing that they were still side by side in their friendship, just like they had always been in periods of growth and change. The accident had proved that, as had this moment.

"Maybe." Jake agreed, not at all put off by her assertion. "But you'll never hear me say anything else." Sam shrugged. It didn't matter what he told people. They knew the truth, and that was all that mattered. It would behoove them, she thought, to keep just how strange they were to themselves.

The truth had come out, and the world was still spinning. They were still them, still friends. They were friends who had acknowledged that they loved each other. Surely that was better than dating, anyway, and if they were themselves, then they didn't have to fit some standard role.. If they had always loved each other, then nothing needed to change.

"Sam." Jake said, slowly. She thought that he was going to, finally, finally, kiss her. His other hand went to the rope handle behind her, above her head. She leaned in, feeling her heart race as his mouth came close to her ear. She prayed that he was going to start slowly, make this moment last forever. The first time only happened once. She wanted it to be once and forever.

Sam inhaled, feeling her body expand with light and expectation and passion. Sam let her hands fall into his shirt, and Jake smiled devilishly, "Don't you find this whole thing to be rather anti-climactic?"

The double entendre hit home, and quickly, Sam put her palms flat into his chest and shoved with all of her might. She resisted the urge to kick dirt in his face as he started to laugh as he hit the ground because the swing went flying as she stood quickly. Sam let out a spluttering noise of frustration, and said exactly what she was thinking, "Oh, I cannot believe you!"

"You should see the look on your face!" Jake called out as she headed to the house. She didn't turn around, because if she did, he would see that she was laughing, too. It wouldn't do to let him see this. She knew that it wouldn't hurt him to let him stew in it. "Aw, Brat, come back!"

She peeked over her shoulder, saw him standing there hat in hand, laughter dancing in the lines of his body in the starlight. Sam smiled and kept walking. Yeah, this would be fine, she decided, because they were still them.

Well I've been searching for something true

My heart says it must be you

And I don't wanna look back on these days

Knowing all the things you'd never know if I never said a word and let you go

I don't wanna steal you away or make you change the things that you believe

I just wanna drink from the words you say

Only if you Told me to, Hunter Hayes

Guest: So glad you like it! I swear each chapter isn't going to turn into a shagfest, promise. Which, I must say, is strange to write because there hasn't even been any kissing, but it's true. It's just important to bring these things up as we lay the foundation for the future. I share in your excitement! I think a lot of us have been waiting about 250k words for that confession up there. I know I have been! Thanks for the review!

The title comes from an Amanda Palmer song, mainly the stanza:

I have wasted years of my life agonizing about the fires

I started when I thought that to be strong, you must be flame retardant

And now to dress the wounds goes into question

How authentic they are

There is always someone criticizing me

She just likes playing hospital...

Your eyes full of ketchup

It's nice that you're trying

And I'm not gonna live my life on one side of an ampersand

And even if I went with you I'm not the girl you think I am

Ampersand, Amanda Palmer