A/N: Here's 7! I don't have much to say, just that the next time I post, it'll be a chapter of Letters to Harm.
Gone
Chapter 7: Comfort You
April 2004
1005 Local
Monarch Mercantile
Whitefish, MT
Sam stifled a yawn. She was only two hours into her shift but felt she'd been there a week. Last night had been another rough one; nightmares of Para—that place, she corrected, had filled her night, alternating with dreams of him and his harsh words to her the last time she saw him.
Since she'd broken it off with Ian, her nightmares had grown more frequent. Last night wasn't the first night she'd woken up screaming, her nightgown soaked through and the sheets wet beneath her. She had no idea why her breakup with Ian seemed to trigger these nighttime horrors; honestly, she thought she would be long past the effects of that time in her life.
She laughed ruefully to herself. Long past? Hard to be past something you'd never even dealt with.
When she'd returned from that place, she'd gone immediately back to work. She'd been debriefed by the appropriate agency and sent on her way. There had been no counseling, no mention of what she had gone through, and she'd just relied on her inherent fortitude and resilience to get her through. Sure, there was the fact that she'd moved halfway across the country and more, but one could only handle so much…
Mac went about the store, straightening the shelves as she passed through the aisles. As she moved a jar of huckleberry jam back into place, she caught a glance at her left hand. She still bore the marks of the burn she had endured last month the night she'd pulled his picture from the fire. Most would fade with time, but there was one area that would always bear a scar.
That night, once she'd cried herself out, she'd gotten off the floor, gasping at the excruciating pain in her hand. She had gone into the kitchen and run it under cool water for several minutes, the pain increasing exponentially every time she pulled it from under the faucet. Eventually she wrapped it in gauze and went to bed, only sleeping minutes at a time due to the pain.
Ever the dutiful employee, she'd shown up on time to the shop and had gone about her business, ignoring Mary's concerned glances all morning. The pain, despite the ibuprofen and Tylenol she'd taken, made her sick to her stomach and she finally ended up losing the contents of her meager lunch in the bathroom. Unfortunately, or fortunately, perhaps, Mary was waiting outside for her.
"Sam? Are you okay?" The sound of her employer's voice startled her and she tripped a little, catching herself with her injured hand on the nearby desk. That sent a jolt of agony through her and she couldn't bite back the cry of pain.
"Sam, my god, what happened?" Sam just shook her head, clutching her hand against her chest.
"What happened to your hand?" Mary persisted, and finally Sam admitted that she'd burned it the night before. Mary insisted on looking at it; she'd been a nurse in her previous life and Sam knew she wouldn't take no for an answer. Gingerly, she held out her hand to the older woman.
Mary carefully unwrapped the gauze around her hand. When the air hit it, Sam let out a hiss of pain. "Oh, Sam," Mary said when she saw the damage. There were blisters surrounding a small area lighter flesh along with plenty of angry red skin. "Have you been to a doctor?"
Sam shook her head, blinking back tears.
"Well, you're going now."
"Mary—"
"No. You are going and that's final." Mary spoke with determination and for a moment Sam pictured her as a marine.
"Mary, I-I don't think I can drive myself there. I walked here today…"
"Of course not, Sam. I'm taking you."
"But, the store—"
"I'll have Laura come in for a bit." Laura May used to work at the shop with Mary before she retired, but still came in now and again to help.
"No—I'm sure it'll be fine—"
"Sam, you have second- and third-degree burns. Yes, that light area is likely a third-degree burn. You need it looked at. You are at risk of developing an infection and I know it hurts horribly. You'll need something for that too."
Not that I'll take any of that, Sam thought to herself. She wasn't going to risk another addiction.
"Now, let me call Laura. You just sit down and rest, and when Laura gets here, we'll go to the ER."
"Can't we just go to the clinic?" The ER seemed so…excessive.
"No. They won't have anything much for pain there and I think you need the resources of the ER."
"I don't need—"
"Oh, would you just stop being so stubborn?" Mary snapped, and Sam's eyes immediately filled with tears. Mary looked instantly contrite. She wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and led her to a chair. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm just worried and I know you…you never let anyone do anything for you, even when you really need it. For once, let me help you, okay?"
Sam finally nodded, and Mary turned and reached for the phone on the desk. Watching Mary make the phone call, Sam's tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks. She could barely admit it to herself, but having someone take care of her felt good. She was blessed to have found this woman who had given her a job, her friendship, and, though she wasn't quite old enough to be her mother, she was someone who filled that void just a little.
Mary let Sam know that Laura would be here in about twenty minutes, and then they would be going. "You'll be okay back here while I go back out to the floor?" she asked, and Sam nodded. The older woman turned to leave, but Sam stopped her. "Mary—"
"Sam…" Mary said with a hint of warning.
Sam just smiled through fresh tears. "Thank you." Mary's face broke out into a smile as well.
"You're welcome, sweetie."
Later, Mary brought Sam home, fed her cat, got her a sandwich, and then made some tea for the both of them. Sam knew as they sat together at her kitchen table that Mary had many questions such as, "What possessed you to reach your hand into actual flames?" Sam decided to come clean…to a point.
"I suppose you want to know why," Sam spoke first.
"For starters." Mary agreed.
Sam sighed. It had always been difficult for her to open up, especially now, circumstances being what they were. She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"I broke it off with Ian last night," she started.
Mary looked up from her tea in surprise. "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry. I thought things were going well with you two." She laid a hand on Sam's arm.
"They—they were, but…"
"But?"
Sam sighed again. This was the hard part. "He…he isn't…him."
Mary raised her eyebrows. "Him?"
Without a word, Sam stood up and walked out of the kitchen to her bedroom, crossing to her dresser and seeking out the little box that held his photograph. There wasn't much of it left, but his face had remained undamaged, his flyboy smile and sea green eyes still shining out at her. She returned to the kitchen and handed the photo to Mary, watching as the older woman studied the photograph.
"This is what you pulled out of the fire?" Sam nodded. "I'm sorry you almost lost it."
Sam shook her head. "Don't be. I didn't lose it in the fire; I threw it in there."
Mary squeezed Sam's arm. "Why, sweetie?"
Sam blinked back tears. It took her a while, but she finally managed to answer Mary.
"Because…because I was just so sick of holding onto the idea of him…I've loved him for years, but we could never get it together, and then something happened that totally broke us. The last time I saw him, we parted badly, and shortly after I decided I needed a change of scenery. It was just too hard to be in the same city as him."
Mary nodded in understanding. "So you came here."
Sam nodded as well. "Yes…I got rid of everything that reminded me of him, except this picture, and moved somewhere entirely different than what I was used to. I tried, Mary. I tried to let him go. I tried with Ian, but then I would look at this picture again and realize I still wasn't over him. Last night, Ian kissed me, and I just couldn't do it anymore, couldn't do that to Ian. So, I had to end it. It wasn't fair to Ian to keep trying to feel something I don't think I'll feel for anyone else ever again."
"Oh, Sam…" Mary's voice was full of sympathy and Sam felt the older woman's arm go around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry."
Sam swallowed hard. "Last night I got so mad at him," she continued, motioning to the photograph. "I got so mad at myself. I just wanted to be free of him, so I—I made a fire and tossed him into it. Only I couldn't let this last bit of him go…I-I just couldn't…and, here I am…" Sam couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore and broke down sobbing. It was all too much.
She felt both of Mary's arms go around her, and for once, she allowed someone else to comfort her.
"Sam?"
Sam realized she had been daydreaming for quite some time as she stood before the jars of jams and jellies, just staring down at her scarred hand. She turned to her boss and friend and gave her a small smile. "Sorry, Mary…I lost track of what I was doing."
Mary smiled back at her. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I was just daydreaming."
Mary raised an eyebrow. "About anything in particular?"
Sam shrugged. It's what I always dream about. Him. "Not really." She started to move down the shelves again, tidying and straightening, fully aware of Mary's eyes still on her.
"Sam?" Mary called out when she was halfway down the short aisle. She turned back to face her employer.
"Yes?"
Mary's face was the picture of concern. Sam knew she must look a fright; no amount of makeup existed to cover the dark circles under her eyes caused by another sleepless night.
"Honey, are you really okay? You look so worn out."
Sam couldn't lie completely to Mary anymore. "I am. I—I didn't sleep very well. Nightmares."
"Oh, honey, again? I'm sorry. Look, I'll be fine here. Why don't you go home and catch up on sleep?"
Sam had never taken Mary up on such an offer before, but this time, she truly felt awful. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to sleep; she still felt the nightmares close to her, but a long soak in her tub followed by a hot cup of tea while wrapped up in her fluffy bathrobe would be wonderful. She could curl up on her couch with Nicodemus and read the book she'd checked out of the library the day before.
"Actually, Mary…I'd like that a lot. I'm kinda worthless here today."
Mary waved away Sam's criticism of herself. "You'll never be worthless, sweetie. Go grab a few pastries and get yourself home, okay? That's an order." Mary smiled broadly at Sam; she couldn't have known the effect those last words would have on her younger employee.
That's an order. Hearing the familiar phrase caused Sam's heart to jump into her throat. The reminder of another life made her want to curl up into a ball and cry; she wouldn't have expected such a strong reaction at this point, but in her weakened state, she was far more sensitive.
"Thanks, Mary," she mumbled, and quickly headed back to the employee area to gather her things. She didn't bother to take the offered pastries; instead, she grabbed her jacket and without even putting it on, she was out the door.
Mary watched Sam quickly walk down the aisle toward the employee area. She was worried about the young woman. Sure, Sam always had an aura of sadness about her, but in the last months there was a heaviness there as well. Mary was sure there was even some anger, though she knew it wasn't ever directed at her. Sam was struggling with something, even more so than when she first arrived here. Mary only hoped that Sam would be able to open up to her again soon.
When she'd first seen Sam standing by the jams, staring down at her hands but clearly not focused on anything actually around her, she immediately thought of the day she'd taken the younger woman to the hospital for that horrible burn.
Mary's heart had broken for Sam, still grieving so for the handsome man from her photograph. It was obvious the two would have made a striking couple. Mary wasn't the most romantic of people, but even she couldn't deny that the two of them seemed made for each other…and that was just based on a single, singed photograph.
Mary sighed. She wished she could do more to help the beautiful woman who had brought so much to her little shop and her life. She would continue to do what she could, and maybe someday the expression in Sam's lovely amber-colored eyes would match the smile she shared with everyone around her.
August 2004
0708 Local
Sam's House
Whitefish, MT
I'm bringing you home…
Sam shot up in bed, disturbing Nicodemus who jumped away from her with a high-pitched meow. She had the day off and had intended to sleep in to make up for the sleepless nights she often had, but here she was, awake, heart pounding, and she didn't even know why. She didn't remember any dreams…but there had been words...
I'm bringing you home…
The words echoed through her mind, and she could have sworn they were in his voice. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of him. Please stop. Please…
I'm bringing you home…
There was only one problem with that…
Samantha O'Hara, once known as Sarah MacKenzie, had no home.
End Chapter 7