Stretched out languidly on the couch, Sam tried in vain to sleep. She had lain for hours in the dark living room, with only the sound of her own stuffy breathing as a distraction. When the drowse of slumber finally began to overtake her, she yawned deeply, triggering a coughing fit that continued for several agonizing minutes.
She lay still until the urge to cough had lessened and then sat up slowly. Her head swam from the change in blood pressure and she leaned forward, very careful not to move too quickly. She used the arm of the couch to help her onto her feet.
Wobbling slightly, she stood there for a moment and waited for the wave of dizziness to pass. She dragged herself into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, wincing at the brightness of the light inside it. She reached in and pulled out a bottle of water, reveling in the cool texture of the plastic. Lifting the bottle she ran it over her forehead, sighing at the deliciously cold feel of it against her burning hot skin. She held it there for a long moment before the urge to cough returned.
Lowering the bottle again, she twisted the cap, but it didn't budge. She tried again but to no avail. Frustrated, she grabbed the kitchen towel that hung on the handle of the stove and used it to open the cap. She drank thirstily from the bottle, not caring about the dribble of water that slipped down her chin.
Having finished off over half of the contents, she wiped her sleeve across her wet face and along the trail that had been left by her sloppiness. She leaned wearily against the counter and sighed softly, not wanting to aggravate her sore lungs.
Try as she may, she couldn't remember a time where she had ever felt so helpless and weak. It had only been two weeks since the loss of her best friend. The pain of Janet's death made the ache of her body seem insignificant. She could feel the familiar sting of tears as she mentally replayed the images of the last seconds of that fateful mission.
She had been so worried about the Colonel that she had allowed herself to lose focus. She had abandoned her duty and position covering the others. With little hesitation, she'd run to his side, just to check, to make sure he was alive. He was, but mere moments later, her best friend was not.
It had all happened so fast, yet it now felt like an eternity. It hardly seemed possible that fourteen days had passed since she said goodbye to the one person who knew the lie she was living. Janet had promised to take her secret to the grave, and she did.
Sam hated herself now for phrasing it that way. It had been a joke at the time, telling her best friend to hide the truth at any cost. But her words spoken in jest had become fact. It was as if she had tempted fate. She blamed herself for her friend's death. It lay solely on her head; the same one that now pounded from the pressure of too much mucus and too little sleep.
Dropping the bottle from fingers that no longer had the strength to hold it, she slid to the floor in a boneless heap and let the tears flow freely. She couldn't stop them or the emotions that poured out of her fatigued self; instead she released the burden of her heart.
o0o
Continues...