- Chapter Thirty-Four -

I Love To Wave At Those Moments As They Pass By

Rain gone away for the afternoon to make room for a watery sun, the forecast promised brighter days to come. And that wasn't just a cheesy metaphor. Wind far from done hassling the coast-side city, the only exceptional sound outside was the occasional gust that whistled against the sturdy oak windows of the second story and above. Inside, the noise most predominate over the usual clatter was the television running a newscast a room over. The mystery disappearance of the Adler heiress was still receiving some play, however it was no longer the most pressing issue to receive coverage.

Elbow crooked behind his neck for support, the worn figure on the sofa had slipped off for a light nap after a tiring day of making preparations to leave the city. Usually his guy (well, in this case Heather) was generous enough to handle all the details up until the minute of departure; his money was on this having something to do with her sister. The woman insisted that it was just giving him something to do while he waited for his companion to be in moving condition, but frankly he had his doubts. Fair enough it was understandable why it wouldn't do to smuggle the heiress while she was out of it, so the concern was legitimate on paper, but he was skeptical that that was her only motivation.

Meanwhile, snug as a bug in the humble bedroom and twisted up in the threadbare sheets like she hadn't been alone the entire time, Daniella was beginning to wake up from her prolonged rest. Out of commission for the better part of two full days, more than one of her visitors swore that she looked like she had woken up for a moment or so throughout. The newly acquired on-staff doctor thought that might have been possible medically, although he wasn't exactly much more knowledgeable than the next guy. Nadine had a theory that the first day was for the body to process the drugs and the more physical aspects of her ordeal, and everything that came after was to nurse the psychological side. Seemed plausible.

Eggshell white and just as opaque, the curtains were thick enough to soften the light filtering into the room but not obscure it entirely. Having seen Angel's sicko work space for himself, frankly Sam thought it would cushion the blow if she found herself someplace that was even mildly well-lit (he'd even kept the lamp on the nightstand on). Actually to that end, he'd argued for keeping someone posted by her side at all times; that particular arrangement ended when his replacement caught him sharing the bed earlier that morning. He'd been on top of the blankets, yet that made no matter to the former mercenary who chewed him a good one on the spot. The historian supposed that she made a decent point about what the girl would think if she woke up to someone sharing the bed with her, especially after her brief stint as the kissing bandit.

Morphine didn't usually make a person act like that, at least not that any of them had ever known of, so another popular theory floating around was that there was just something in the young woman that was excited by the euphoric state induced by the medicine. Considering who mom and dad were, neither he nor Nadine questioned that one too extensively.

Billionaires allowed to sleep their lives away since they already had everything they could ever want, at the current rate it was taking Sleeping Beauty to wake up, Sam hadn't figured catching a few winks would be much of a problem. Dells was out cold the last time he checked on her - which was pretty much the minute he'd returned from 'interviewing' a captain to give them a ride out of the state - and everyone else was off doing their own thing. Why should a nap hurt anything?

Expecting too much (or more accurately too little) out of a girl that cried almost as much as she slept, the brunette hadn't counted on the young woman catching him off his guard.

Rousing gradually from a deep slumber eerily akin to death, everything hurt and she had no inkling of how long she had been out this time. Eyes stubbornly closed as she turned away from the light, Daniella didn't want to wake up from the dream she'd been having; the more she clung on, the faster it was fading, although her anchor point was as vibrant as it had been when she was living that life. It had been such a good dream, and the more that she came to, the more afraid she was of what she'd find waiting for her.

Memory cruel enough to make her relive the steel kisses, it occurred to her that the darkness in that torture chamber would likely stick with her as long as the scars would, if not longer. Everything that happened afterwards was a blur in comparison, although there were a few things that had a certain kind of clarity to them... meeting her intended, jumping out of that window...

And Sam. Struggling to make sense of it, something about that last recollection felt fuzzy, as if it too were another unreal flight of fantasy she'd dreamt up. Ultimately it had to have been, because there was absolutely no way that they could have come so close to... to... Ugh, just thinking the words made her flush with embarrassment. There was no universe where it was remotely possible. ...Right?

Excited to the point of being flustered over it, her stomach rolled over on itself, gut shifting around at the idea. Daniella supposed that she would have to just boil down to basics and talk to him about what had all happened. Unless... As she laid there in her self-made cocoon, it occurred to the young woman that she might be back in Jian's custody. Raw ache from the razors ripping through her all over again, the marks still obvious on her body as well as in her psyche, her hand traced along a ridge criss-crossed with thread.

Sighing in defeat, she reluctantly opened one eye and then the other.

Peachy striped walls, instantly forgettable ecru decor, fake ferns scattered by the window and on top of the dresser, this was definitely another hotel room. Was that a good sign? Jian easily could have realized that they had gotten off on the wrong foot and this was his way of attempting to make amends. Not that that would work now. According to her mother, there might have been another party after her as well, and since they were being founded by proper business types, this could have been them just as easily. But the first place she had met Sam was at his hotel room, so maybe this was him after all? Looking around at the simple furnishings, noting that there was only the one bed, she still couldn't tell for sure.

Not knowing worse than the speculation, Daniella pushed herself to rise, to poke around to figure out if she was in the company of friend or foe. Climbing out of the bed with the protesting throbs of her entire body (seriously, under ordinary circumstances, a hot bath would be divine), the heiress found herself garbed in a hotel robe, and not a very comfortable one at that. In no fit state to dress herself in these lost hours, clearly someone had changed her while she'd been out of it, and she had no idea who it had been or if that was all that had happened.

Hand sliding across her collar bone to the curve of her shoulder, her fingers happened to brush against a simple strap. Too scared to see what she might find under the robe (or what she wouldn't), the young woman felt around blindly to discover underwear that rode all the way up to her navel and a bra that was a smidgen too small. Crossing both arms protectively across her chest, she suddenly felt less than clean.

Forgetting to look around the rest of the room for clues because she was too upset at the idea that anything could have happened to her, the heiress went straight for the door. Apparently left ajar for just this scenario, happily it swung wide open with the slightest of prompts; at least that meant she wasn't being confined to just a single room. Feeling only slightly relieved by that break, she gingerly traipsed down the two-door hall until she found herself in a tiny living space as unremarkable as her room. TV on, the first thing she saw was Sam crashed out on the couch.

Thank god!

Joy flooding the same channels as relief in that instant, a pair of young knees buckles as every other part broke down. She was safe! She was safe. Maybe that was only going to be a temporary state of being, but she wasn't looking ahead to the future, not at that time. Right then, her only concern was her only goal, and that was to be as close to the thief as she possibly could get.

At first that entailed squatting on the floor by the couch, however that wasn't nearly enough to assuage the nearly deafening roar of anxiety, so another course of action was in order. No different from a small child plagued by nightmares, the heiress required more comfort and protection than mere proximity could deliver. Self-positioning as the small spoon, Daniella wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders, snuggling in until she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

[A Few Hours Later...]

Infomercial yapping on in the background when he finally woke up, the first thing the brunette registered was that his arms were snaked around a smaller body. Warm and smelling almost familiar underneath the hotel soap, Drake pulled the feminine figure closer to his chest before realizing who it was he was spooning. Having drifted off for a short bit after a story about some celebrity divorcing from another, Daniella was nearly as surprised as Sam was before she remembered crawling on top of him. Thankfully for the pair, being the more experienced of the two he was the first to recover.

"Hey, Dells." Voice thick from sleep and still fighting off a calm drowse, he wouldn't complain if this was still just a dream. At least then he wouldn't have to think about the last time he spoke to her royal highness.

Groaning at the unwelcome return to reality, the young woman brought her forehead down into his chin. Comfortable enough to fall back asleep if he let them, she was more than prepared to just end the day on a good note for a change. Of course fate - being the mega epic ultra bitch that it was - would do everything in its power to prevent that if given even the slightest opportunity. Was one day really too much to ask for after everything she'd gone through lately? Apparently it was.

Left just enough space to mumble into the rift between an off-white v-neck and the birds flying free on his throat, she began the surrender to a force she had no hopes of beating. Like ever. "Mr. Drake."

Still? Considering everything they had already been through in proximity to one another, that hurt on a level. "Enough with the mister stuff, Jesus. It makes me feel old."

Head bobbing meekly in mute agreement, the young woman figured that by this point she really ought to just dispense with the formalities, however, for whatever reason she was still finding it difficult to do just that. Utterly ridiculous in the scheme of things she knew, it was a defensive wall built solely because she was frightened of what could happen once they had suspended all sense of distance and decorum.

Not about to complain about waking up to a pretty face, Sam wasn't above bemoaning the fact that absolutely nothing had led to landing in that position. Not even a parting gift from the kissing bandit in what was likely a one-time appearance. Unfortunate as that had been, perhaps this little stunt was the girl's way of telling him that it was okay to pass go and collect his prize. Seriously, was it really so crazy to think that she had inherited the subtlety her parents so blatantly scorned?

Worrying over what could have came from the change of dynamic, the young woman hadn't immediately realized what was happening in the present. Or rather, where hands that weren't her own were working towards. Mind racing back to the fact that she was no longer in the torn-up rags her clothes had undoubtedly become after that window stunt alone, Daniella had to question if this familiarity was because he had been the one to replace the garments. Positively mortified at the notion of the thief seeing her completely and utterly exposed, she could feel her cheeks burning.

"Sorry, I just..." struggling to find the right way to explain herself, she suddenly became very mindful of how their bodies were positioned. Melded together and of close enough heights to always be within arms reach, there was virtually no breathing room between the pair. Boiling down to what she wanted, what she truly desired, the young woman could have let the groping take its natural course, or, she could have made him very sorry for ever touching her. "Sam just seems so... intimate."

Cold to the handful of cheap terry and cheek he was feeling, Daniella hadn't slapped him away, but she hadn't exactly given any signal that she wanted him to carry on either. Accustomed to his potential dance partners either throwing themselves at his feet or basically giving him the one-finger send-off, it had been some time since Drake had had to tread the middle ground. Was it residual effects from the morphine killing her mood? Because given her behavior towards him up until that point it seemed unlikely that she would suddenly become so damn indifferent.

Able to tell that he was unwanted, Sam conceded and removed his hand. "I get it. Don't worry, I won't hold my breath for the invitation to your sweet sixteen."

Older than that by a fair amount, the heiress could tell that she had hit him where it hurt. Dammit, why should she have to feel bad about wounding his pride when he would probably drop her the instant the check cleared? But she did. Sitting up and taking a perch at the edge of the bland khaki couch, the young woman made it her responsibility to make him understand why she was being so standoffish. "I didn't mean to... I'm just..."

"Go on." Prompting the girl to open up, the brunette mimed her movement and also took a semi-vertical position. Although unlike his ward, he made himself comfortable like a normal person.

"This hasn't exactly been a picnic. For all I know I could be anywhere, anything could have happened to me while I was unconscious, anyone could have put me in..." Daniella interrupted herself because she didn't want to revisit that train of thought; fingers reaching into the robe for a strappy little thing that only Chloe would have brought, the thief gathered where she was going with that last one. "Growing up, everyone used me or died, or even both. So I tried to keep them away. But I don't want that... I want friends that I can count on. Like you and miss Chloe have. That probably sounds like the stupidest thing you've ever heard, but would love it if I could say that I have one person in this world that I can truly depend on."

Definitely barking up the tree if that was what she wanted, Drake wasn't that guy. Chloe maybe, Logan most probably (assuming that his wife allowed it), but not Sam. Hell, she'd probably have a better chance with that new guy than she would with him. "That's not me." And then it dawned on him why she couldn't make up her mind about letting it happen between them. "But you already figured that out."

Was it so obvious that that was why she was so afraid of giving him leeway? If he could see that, then was there any further use for pretense? "I don't want to be alone, Sam."

Touched and almost glowing that she finally used his name in a casual setting, all joking aside he couldn't blame her for being terrified of that. Especially not after seeing what the Orange Tiger Association was capable of. "For a generous fee, I think we can work something out." As good as a promise from a thief could be, he was even willing to throw in a clause about giving her a few other things as well, but they could always iron that out when they wrote up the imaginary contract. "To be clear, this doesn't mean we're going to be friends once my job is done."

Better than she could hope for, something in the heiress believed that he would honor his word about keeping her safe - after all, he already had this far.

"Even from myself?" Okay, so maybe it was a tiny bit evil to make him promise that just to turn around to manipulate the situation, but there were worse things she could do.

Capable of maintaining some sense of composure while there was someone there to keep supervision over her - more specifically to keep kidnappers at bay - at least for the time being the young woman knew that she was in no condition to be left alone. Which was actually kind of a personal problem, as nothing sounded better than a nice hot bath. Between having no clue how long it had been since the last time she'd had a proper cleaning and it just sounding like the thing she needed most, Daniella was loathe to admit it. Yeah, even after all of that she still didn't want to think about how her fear of being alone was going to make that situation work.

Negotiating this soon after a traumatic experience and unplanned surgery? Her parents would have been proud if they could see their little girl now. Or maybe not, judging from the way her face had reddened to put a Christmas tree ornament to shame. "Why, is there a problem?" Honestly Sam was quite proud of his ability to feign innocence, especially when it could be used to torment another.

"No! Yes. ...Kinda." Twiddling her fingers and avoiding direct eye contact, the heiress mumbled under her breath, "I need a bath..."

Actually she really didn't - the instant the room had been rented, Nadine and Chloe had both made it their personal mission to see to it that the heiress was cleaned and dressed. That first night they put her into something light to allow the stitches to breath, but the girl kept finding a way out of it, so they had finally given up and just gave her some underwear and a robe for modesty's sake. Point was, with the young surgeon's help they had washed the girl.

In short the demand had nothing with being clean and everything to do with feeling comfortable in her own skin. So in other words, it wasn't really necessary. Not a hundred percent anyways, but after seeing what those psychos had done, it was the least he could do for her. "Whatever you need."

Jealous of Chloe for obvious reasons, it may have slipped his mind to tell Dells that if she waited long enough, someone else more preferable might show up to lend a hand.

"Oh," acting as if he only just remembered, the historian generously cleared up a little something in return for the gapping slit that appeared in the robe when she stood, "you have Chloe to thank for your upkeep." And Nadine, but it was clear who the real brains behind that operation was.

Once in the bathroom, there was a rare moment when the ex-con offered to do the right thing and just stand guard outside the door while she stewed, but the girl wasn't having it. Genuinely terrified of what they hadn't spoken about just yet, he could see by the look in her eyes that this wasn't some needless attempt at seducing him. Daniella had experienced true evil, and she didn't feel capable enough to stand on her own yet. Maybe she never would, but that wasn't his concern.

Water scalding and brimming with bubbles after a few uncomfortable moments of awkwardly staring at one another, the first thing off had been the bra. Back to Sam and left arm crossed firmly against her chest as she entered the tub (the right used for balancing purposes), the underwear had only come off after she was hidden beneath the frothy layer of lavender-scented foam. He had to hand it to her for being so adamant about hiding her body from prying eyes. At this point it was pretty much a wasted effort when half the crew had seen her in her birthday suit, but damn if she wasn't trying anyways.

Concerned with Sam catching anything she wasn't ready for him to see, she even covered herself to the best of her ability the few times she submerged herself.

"How long was I out?" Shampoo running down the back of her neck from the knot she'd sculpted at the crown, it was clear from her tone that she wasn't looking forward to having this conversation. Braver than he would have given her credit for, it was admirable that she had broached the topic on her own to get it out of the way.

Assuming he meant since they retrieved her, the thief made himself busy with the yellow submarine painting behind the toilet. It was nothing special, but the little slice of goodness in his heart was telling him it wouldn't be good to just stare at the heiress. Even if she was secretly harboring the hope that he would. "Two days."

That long? In a shocking twist that actually wasn't so horrible. Not the best, but all things considered it really could have been so much longer. "I see. So where is everyone?"

He could see that she was still dancing away from certain aspects of the situation, aspects that would need to come up sooner or later. Smirking at the wall before twisting around enough to face the girl as he teased her, Sam figured that he could oblige that one. "Why, waiting to see how much longer you'll have me all alone?" Ducking down into the water at the accusation, he could tell that she was definitely blushing. "All you have to do is ask me nicely, and I'll be right there in that tub with you."

Face on absolute fire, she squirmed beneath the surface of the water. "I... That's not why I asked you here..."

Enjoying just how much that got to her royal majesty, the grin on the thief's face grew - surely it would only be a matter of time now. "Relax. I'm just pulling your leg." Although he really would just jump in if she gave him the green light. "Logan's probably off somewhere he can get in touch with his wife, and Chloe's with Nadine, sorting out some last minute details." Which in this case meant they were out getting clothes for the heiress. "Your new doctor friend is probably in his room, and who knows where Wyatt is."

Logan was still hanging around? That was honestly a bit of a surprise to hear. But more importantly, "Who? And who?" Also, what doctor had she met recently? He couldn't have been referring to Angel. No way!

Right, girlie had missed the epic team-up her abduction had made possible. "Nadine Ross. A total pain in my ass, we go way back..." all the way to when Rafe died as it were, but saying that just now seemed cruel. Dells worshiped her father for whatever twisted reason, so if he just blurted out their history, there was no telling how she would react to the former mercenary. Or what that would do to his chances of getting into her pants. "Nadine's an old friend of your father's. They were partners before-"

"Before he died." Finishing his sentence for him, Daniella thought back to everything she could remember about that time in her life. Not a whole lot, it turned out. "So this doctor friend? And Wyatt, you said?"

Wyatt was easy. "Between you and me, frankly I don't trust him. Little punk's Nadine's son, so we're all walking a fine line there, but he hasn't done himself any favors and made any friends." Coking his head, he turned to look at Daniella for no real reason in particular. Again, he took a little too long gandering in her direction, but the coat of bubbles kept him from seeing anything she wanted to stay hidden. "You really don't remember the doctor? According to him, he found you on the roof of his brother's clinic and patched you up while you were out."

That would explain the stitches. "I should thank him then."

"Probably." Wow, this was probably the longest conversation that they'd ever had (possibly that she had ever had, period). Honestly a little amazed to learn that Dells wasn't her parents after all, more than gloat over the fact that his office defense was right, he realized that he was still gawking. Nothing left to say on the matter of the doctor, Sam turned back around.

Cluing in to the fact that his gaze was lasting longer than it should have, the heiress was quiet for a few moments as she set about scrubbing the few spots on her body that weren't lifted from a modern retelling of Frankenstein. Coming to the one spot she couldn't reach by herself, the heiress peered sideways at the brunette. Earlier he honestly had seemed interested in looking at the few decorations in the room, but now it appeared that he was trying too hard to not eye the tub.

"Can you get my back, please? I hardly ever feel finished without..." Hearing the words out loud, the blush came creeping back, "Oh. Yeah, maybe just ignore that last part..."

"I could do that, but where's the fun in that?"

Had anyone else at all been in that bathroom at the moment, they would have accused him of taking advantage, but he had to disagree - Daniella had made her choice. Either way a part of him was going to think about all the ways that this could have gone in his favor, yet he was the good one in the situation, the one that hadn't instigated anything. Sam was the good one here.

Making her rue ever asking him for this favor, the thief took the sponge she hesitantly offered and got down on his knees with a chorus of creaking joints. At least the citrus-y bristles provided some cushion. And bless her, the young woman had even pretended not to notice; it didn't matter though, because she was still on his list.

Wincing at first from how hard the washrag came down on her shoulders, once they found a beat that worked everything was fine. "Thank you." Gratitude sincere, she shivered behind a veil of steam as his pinky brushed the hole drilled through the pale flesh, "It's still a little tender." Disturbed by the motion, wet ebony strands of coffee fell between her shoulderblades, however she was quick to pull the hair out of his way.

Basically a topographical map that would only heal partially (at best), he scrubbed in a circular motion, slowly working down lower to where she couldn't reach by herself. It was nice; in fact it was so nice, she felt her mind begin to wander off and imagine what would happen if he took it even lower. Biting her lip and hoping that he missed the momentary lapse of judgment, she brought her thighs as close together as they could get and wrapped her hand around her knees before pulling them toward her chest.

Voice cracking, Daniella suddenly wished that she had opted for an ice cold bath instead. "That's fine, thanks."

Chloe may have just been teasing her back in the car, but it had been a while since the young woman had had a proper minute to herself. Body wiggling impatiently below the surface, her hormones weren't going to be able to take it for much longer. So what pray tell was she supposed to do? Anxious and doing her best to not break down completely, the heiress wasn't ready to be left alone just yet, but could she really do something like that with someone else in the same room? Well, somebody besides Jay...

Just about as antsy as the girl was from all the tension, Sam was honestly thinking about helping her clean more than just her back. If he moved the cloth slowly around her waist and followed the shape of her hips down, she would have had ample time to stop him if she really didn't want to pursue that avenue... And he saw her holding back, so he knew he wasn't crazy for entertaining the notion. Only thing preventing him being the fact that she was so vulnerable, that the trauma was still fresh enough to see, there was also himself to think about. The dry spell had lasted long enough, and he promised himself that he would break a piece of that off the first chance he got.

Acutely aware that he hadn't removed the soapy rag from her lower back just yet, it was sorely tempting to take him by the wrist and lead it towards another place she could use a hand. So! Tempting! But... if she did that then it wouldn't be fate but herself to blame...

Consequence set, surely even the guy holding the pen would have to ask how it had all come to this.