Not five minutes after he saw Sam come inside, Jake heard his mother call out "Jake, you'd better come up here. She's passed out." There was a tremor in her voice that she tried to hide with a take charge tone. Jake felt like there was ice in his veins as the scrabble board fell over and he bolted up the stairs, as calmly as possible. This had happened before, but It had been so long since she'd had an episode with her blood pressure around this time. They almost hoped they were beyond it, though she probably hadn't heeded the signs to rest in everything that had gone on and let things get too far. His hands were shaking as he helped her through it, making sure she was breathing, even though he knew mom had checked. He needed to be sure. She wasn't overly cold, or overly warm, and her breath wasn't raspy. Some other part of his mind took over, even though he wished he could detach himself, be a professional, pretend this wasn't his wife, again. The motions were sickeningly familiar. Jake loosened every button he could reach. Grace got her a cool towel to put on her turned head. He hated it. Hated every second of it.

Declan knew he shouldn't be here, even standing in the hall as he was. He was seeing something no person had any business seeing. Sam was lying on the bed and Jake was doing what he could. It seemed he knew the protocol. Seconds were passing, but it felt like each was a decade long. Jake kept talking to her, like she was listening. Even for Declan, it was heartbreaking to hear him begging. "Brat, listen. You have to listen. You're going to be fine. Just wake up." She was out, and nothing happened.

Jake felt like he was going to pass out himself. Something wasn't right. There was no reason for her not to be up. Her feet were elevated, he had glanced at Wyatt doing that himself, and her pulse was steady. "Fuck. Should we call 911? They'd just take forever to get out here." Plus, with their EMT training, they were the ones who'd be called. He'd trained, and so had his father, of course, who practically ran the EMT group for the county. Luke had gone to paramedic school before working on the ranch full time. There was nothing anyone else would be able to do, unless they got out the peppermint and rosemary oil. She'd kill him for it, it made her gag because they were so strong, but at least she'd be conscious to do it. They couldn't use ammonia, though it was stronger, because of her respiratory concerns after the accident. He wavered. He knew from the chart that it was a nerve that had been triggered by cramping, and not blood loss, so they had a few seconds yet. "Sam, come on, wake up. You can do it. Wake up and tell me to fuck off, please. Please?"

No one corrected him, or his language. He pushed up her shirt and shoved down the waist of her sleep pants ever so slightly, and began to smooth out the cramping muscles, with slight pressure and a practiced move. He couldn't let himself think of all the times he'd done this for her, her eyes drifting shut under the feather light touches. Her lower abdomen was really ticklish, and he was careful to press without doing that. Some nights, when she had PMS like this, they'd just sit, and he'd look into her eyes as he gave her every ounce of relief and pleasure he could. Her eyes would glitter, and she would smile softly, and the moments were just perfect.

He just wanted her eyes to open. He was scared. What if her eyes never opened? Or worse, what if they did, and she didn't know him? He always worried when she passed out. What if her brain was doing something, and she wasn't her when she woke up? A second that felt like decades later, Sam stirred.

Maxine was all business, glancing at the second hand on her watch. "It's been a minute and 45 seconds, Jake."

That meant... His math was feeble, but quick. They had less than two minutes before they had to make some decisions. Before he had to make those decisions. No one else could do this for him. It was his job to bring her back, somehow. Jake cleared his throat, "She's not waking up."

Jake was totally numb. Brynna had tears streaking her make up. He felt like telling her to leave, as mean as that might have been. What right did she have to cry, when he couldn't? She hadn't been around after the accident, nor during Sam's recovery. She didn't know that this was not uncommon after the accident, and that this faint wasn't the worse that had happened. Though the current faint and the head injury were connected only tangentially, it shook the woman. He couldn't bear to look at her, as she left the room to check on Cody.

Sam's eyelids fluttered again, after something like 20 or 30 seconds. Finally, it seemed, there was Sam. She was pale, and shaken, but awake. Wyatt moved over to talk to Sam. Grace took a moment to ask Jake. "Did she hit her head at all?" Grace kept glancing at her son, as though she wanted to hug him.

He replied, "No." He wished he could tell Wyatt and his mother they both knew why this had happened. Wyatt looked haunted, and his own parents looked as worried as he had ever seen them. But he would not betray his wife. His musings were stopped when a hand gripped his and fingers searched until they felt the metal warmed by his skin. Even knowing she was awake, that she was in there, didn't lower his heart rate. He could barely breathe. Sam spoke to him and they put her to bed, but she seemed cognizant from Luke's check. She smiled faintly when she was asked the date, and the name of the President, and went to sleep. One by one, everyone cleared out, leaving him and Wyatt. Wyatt moved to say something, but merely shook his head, touched Jake's shoulder, and closed the door behind him. He put his head down on the bed near Sam's body and prayed to God that this would pass quickly.

He woke to a hand in his hair. Sam smiled, "Hey. Why are we here and not in your room?"

Jake did what any man would do in his situation. He did what he couldn't do the last time she was hurt. He climbed in next to her, glad his shoes were off, and pulled her close, so he could look into her eyes that were lit with a bemused concern that was totally her. When he had counted, by tens, the beat of her heart and five blinks, when his own heartbeat finally slowed enough to match hers beat for beat, he struggled as he told her what had happened.

Some time later, Sam sat up, "So let me get this straight. I passed out. Woke up. Didn't realize I was up. Went to sleep That's normal, I think. To sleep after passing out. It was likely a blood pressure thing anyway. Sometimes the cramping hits that nerve, and down I go."

"But it's been a long while since things were so hard on you, hasn't it?" He begged for reassurance.

Sam nodded, but added. "Sometimes my cycle is what it is. It's bad right now, but that's to be expected, given the irregularity. I knew it was coming. I should have paid more attention." She blew out a breath as his body tensed. "I'm fine. You're okay. Things will be normal in a few days."

He was insistent. "But your medication is help that, fix that."

"Help, yes. Fix, not so much." Sam tried to clarify. He needed to calm down. Everything was okay.

"There's got to be something that can be done. You can't suffer like this. You will not."Jake declared.

There were things she could do, she guessed, but they were all invasive. She shook her head, "Nothing I'd consider, right now."

"You should call the doctor." Why was he being so autocratic? She knew he'd been scared. She knew he wanted to protect her from this, but he couldn't.

"I will, tomorrow." Why was this so urgent? She wasn't dying. She didn't have a tumor. She was fine, and he needed to see that.

"This isn't right. Something needs to be done, here, Sam." He ran his hand through his messy hair. How could he help her? He couldn't fix this, protect her from her own body, and the fact that she was pale and tired ripped through him.

Her tone was insistent, but caring, understanding, and it was a balm to his soul. She was still her, she could still read him. "It's my body, Jake. Mine. Stop pushing." She fell silent for a moment, "Be right back, I've got to go to the bathroom."

He hopped out of the bed. "Geez, hang on."

She laughed as he tripped over the blanket in his haste."Why, you going to walk me down the hall?"

"Yes, and go get the heating pad." He wrapped an arm around her, and Sam sighed. She wondered if they could just stand here, for a while. His hug was all she needed. Before she could voice her query, he had one of his own. "Can you get back by yourself?"

She didn't roll her eyes, but thought for a second, "Yeah, I'm good right now."

He padded down the steps to find his mother sitting with a mug of coffee at the table, once Sam was squared away. He'd nearly asked to stay with her, but he knew what that reply would be.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, baby. How's Sam?" His mother was sitting at the table, mug in hand, box of E.L. Fudges in front of her. Mom was upset. She only ate store bought cookies when someone was sick, like the time Adam gave everyone the chicken pox, or the time he'd broken his leg. Mom had gained 20 pounds from cookies after Sam's accident, though why he was thinking about that, he didn't know.

He replied, "Better, I guess." Crossing the kitchen, he rummaged in a closet. "Getting the heating pad, okay?"

"Sure, sure." She paused, biting into another cookie, and he wanted equally, to join her or take them away from her and tell her not to worry. "I hadn't realized Sam was still having...well, I just didn't know."

A tupperware fell from the shelf and nearly hit him on the head as he spun around. "You know?"

"I had some idea in her early teens." Sam had had questions, as any girl might, about the changes in her body. Max was simply glad that Sam had come to her. She knew what misinformation girls passed around at school. She tried to get Sam to see a doctor, but she never knew if she had, because every time she brought it up after that, Sam's body language had changed, and she insisted she was fine, that it had been nothing. She finished lamely. "I thought maybe it was due to the accident, honestly."

She didn't say what 'it' was, and he didn't know. Was she talking about...? Well, he wasn't going to be the one to tell, not like this. So he played dumb, and was honest."I, uh, don't know what to say, Mom."

She smiled. "I understand. I won't pry anymore tonight. Goodnight, Jake." He put his foot on the step, and turned to say, "Night, Mama."

Declan was settling in his room at the Ely house and fell into a deep sleep on a warm, soft bed, with the only sounds that were heard were the occasional animal or cricket. He'd been given a guest room in the house, and not the bunkhouse. He didn't know why, but he wasn't about to press his luck. Just before sunrise, there was a knock at his door that jerked him awake. He threw on a shirt and groggily went to open the door. It was Jake, dressed to go running.

Jake asked, "Do you want to go for a run?"

"At this hour?" His voice was disbelieving. "Why?" He knew Jake used running to cope with his issues and emotions, but somehow, he didn't know why Jake was inviting him along now, of all the times he'd gone running. He never had before, and he was smiling. Well, okay, he wasn't frowning. Wasn't that smile from his friend?

Jake didn't reply. He seemed to think there was an intrinsic worth to the practice that was lost on Deck that Jake found sad. "I do it every day I can. It's different from my runs at school, mostly. Come on."

So against his better judgement, he dressed and laced up his tennis shoes just to find Jake shuffling and fiddling with his watch on the porch. Declan spoke "So where are we heading then?"

Jake thought for a second,"I figure since you're new at this, we'll just go along the back road for a bit." A bit was a damned misnomer. Declan's lungs were burning, not to mention his poor legs. He was a fit guy, but hell, Jake seemed in his own world, beyond anything. He was a runner. A real runner, who derived more joy from the activity than endorphins could provide. It seemed almost spiritual, a moment of connection between the world around him and the essence within himself. Every once and awhile he would stop, and look at the sun he seemed to be running towards. He would breathe deeply and let the weak rays wash over him, a benediction of daily renewal.

The 'road' Deck found out, was a dirt path they used to take the trucks over the land, probably for ranch stuff he had no idea about. He thought about asking, but then realized Jake would go into lecture mode, and he never wanted to ever, ever, hear the words, "arm" and "pregnancy check" in the same sentence, ever again. Why didn't they make EPTs for cows? He wondered how PopPop handled that whole thing back home. So, with Declan's mind focused elsewhere, they settled into a quiet pace, the only sound was the thud thud of their feet, the ragged inhalation that Deck's body forced upon him, and the whispers on the air as Jake greeted the morning, cupping the air and letting it was wash over him, sometimes speaking softly.

"H-hey...What's that?" Declan was confused by dots and blurs that seemed to be rushing along the horizon.

Jake flicked a glance towards the distance, and replied. He wasn't even out of breath. "Horses."

"Horses?" Deck huffed.

Jake shook his head, as though pitying his ignorance. "Haven't you ever heard of mustangs?"

"Well, yeah, but you mean to tell me that you get to see them all the time?" That was super cool, but didn't that only happen in movies, Deck wondered.

Jake smiled, "Something like that." He muttered softly, as though he had forgotten Declan was beside him "Just don't tell Sam..."

"Why not?" Deck couldn't resist asking.

Jake considered his reply for a long moment. "Because she loves that horse, and I'd never keep her inside. I'm not sure..."

"Sure?" It was unlike Jake to pause in the middle of a thought. He'd say what he had to, and be done with it. He wasn't one to harp or say two words where one would suffice.

"I don't think even her love for me would keep them apart."

Deck didn't know what to say. He would have never thought that there was something, someone Sam would put above Jake. And to hear Jake speak about it so matter of factly said a lot. Declan had taken enough psychology classes to know that the love forged between the Ely's wasn't exactly normal. He wondered if it was even unhealthy, to be so consumed with another person, connected with another person's soul to the roots of their very beings. Sometimes, he wondered when Sam ended, Jake began, and their couplehood started, and vice versa. Who were they without each other? Did they even know?

He knew he never wanted to love or be loved like that. His spouse, one day, would be a good a friend, but not his best friend, not the same way Sam and Jake were. He hoped. As they ran along, he focused on the dots on the horizon as one rose into the air, as a horse might sometimes, and wondered who that horse was. Somehow he just knew it was a greeting. The animal knew he'd been discussed. Somehow.

I think Jake would probably connect spirituality and running, much like he connected it to horsemanship in Red Feather Filly. Well, frankly, I think the custom (that I appropriated for Jake from Navajo traditions) makes sense for a guy like him, introverted, and a runner.

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