Uhm...hi.

So originally I planned on this being a oneshot.

But there was still more to the story rolling around in my brain.

So, here it is, chapter dos. This chapter is much more serious than the first. You've been warned.

Me no owny de Danny. Curse you, Butch.

(:


Hot Chocolate Suprises (Chapter Two)

July 27, 2011


The next morning, Danny woke with a start. He'd had the most wonderful dream: Sam had come home early, they had kissed, and then they fell asleep intertwined on the couch beneath a warm blanket.

But...wait. He was laying on the couch. Under a blanket. With...Sam?

"Oh, my God!" He whispered. There she was, cuddled against his chest, a single dainty hand outstretched over his heart. Which, coincidentally, had just kicked into overtime. He couldn't help the large, goofy grin that split his face when she sighed and snuggled closer to him, her slender fingers balling into a fist in his shirt. She was really there. It wasn't a dream.

Danny continued to watch her sleep. Slowly, he began to realize that a huge weight had been lifted off his chest having her there. He lifted his hand and touched her tiny fist, smiling even more widely at the heat that radiated off of her skin. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, loving the way she tilted her head up to fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. However, that smile melted into a small frown when he noticed a small strip of white skin over the back of her wrist; it appeared to be the top of a scar.

Slowly and carefully, so as not to wake her, Danny rolled the sleeve of her uniform down. The scar started right where the skin of the back of her hand and her wrist met, stretching all the way down the length of her forearm. Danny was only able to push the sleeve down to her elbow; the scar appeared to continue past there. It had been a deep wound, of that he was sure. It started thin at her wrist, slowly bulging outward in an arc, giving it the appearence of a very long, stretched-out snake's eye.

In the hundreds of emails that Sam had exchanged with Danny, Tucker, and Jazz, she never once mentioned receiving an injury. Danny felt his frown deepen as he stared at her, trying to push the sudden thoughts of her sweet face twisting in agony when she had gotten the injury that caused the scar away. What if there are others? He thought suddenly, breathing in sharply. What if she's been seriously injured and just didn't tell us about it?

A small part of his mind attempted to reason that the probability of that actually happening was slim to none. However, that small part of his mind was very, very wrong.

His sudden intake of breath was enough to jostle Sam awake. She yawned, rubbing her eyes tiredly, looking more like the sweet eight-year-old little girl Danny had befriended on the elementary school playground all those years ago than a battle-hardened soldier fresh from Iraq. She smiled up at him, her violet eyes radiating serenity.

"I could get used to waking up like this," She whispered, giggling. Danny forced half a smile, attempting to push his concern aside.

She may have been half-way across the world for two years, but Sam still knew her Danny like the back of her hand. "What? What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me about this?" His voice was low as he took her hand in his and pulled it upward, so that the exposed, scarred flesh on her arm was thrown into the light of the early morning sun slipping through the window. Sam's eyes widened as she gazed at it, inwardly cursing at herself. Of course, he just had to find it within twelve freakin' hours of us being reunited...stupid hero...

"Uh," she said, pulling her arm out of his grasp and shaking her sleeve back down to cover the scar. "It wasn't a big deal, I didn't think it was a huge cause for concern, so I just kept it to myself..."

"Not a huge cause for concern?" He repeated incredulously, pushing himself up on the couch. Sam, who had still been sprawled across his chest, was forced upward as well, her face flushing at the sound of the sudden anger in his voice. "Sam, it looks like your arm was practically split open! I'd say that's a pretty big cause for concern," He leaned in closer. "Are there others like it?"

Sam hesitated. There were, but she really didn't feel like telling him about those at the moment...especially the one that started around her right shoulderblade and wrapped around her entire body, coming to a stop around the back of her left knee.

"N-No," She whispered.

"You're lying to me," Danny said, his voice dangerously low. Sam flushed again; darn him and his ability to see through my lies! "Sam, just tell me what happened. Please."

She stared at him, her eyes wide, silently pleading with him. No, the goth thought desperately, please don't make me talk about it...please...

But Danny did not relent. "As much as I love you and have missed you, you're not getting out of this one. Besides, the puppy dog pout is my thing,"

Sam rolled her eyes. "There you go, bitter sarcasm is your thing," Danny said, playfully nudging her arm with his elbow. "So go on. Tell me."

"I'd rather tell everyone at once, since they're going to see these scars eventually," Danny's brows knitted together, but he nodded.

"I'll get them up," He said, leaping to his feet and draping the blanket over Sam. She sighed and watched him go, not looking forward to the conversation she was about to have. She knew it would happen eventually, but...come on...on the third full day she was back in America? Really?

She stood and began to unbutton the thick camouflaged jacket, allowing it to fall to the floor. She was wearing a white camisole beneath it; one that left much of the flesh on her torso exposed. She unbuttoned the pants and allowed them to fall, revealing black shorts that stopped a little less than half-way down her thighs. Sighing again, she knelt and gathered the clothes in her arms, dropping them on the couch beside her. She fell back into the cushions, drawing the blanket she'd shared with Danny around herself, using it to sheild the scars from their prying eyes for as long as possible.

The three trudged into the room, Danny looking extremely concerned, Jazz looking extremely interested, and Tucker looking extremely...asleep. Danny reclaimed his position on the couch, not failing to notice that Sam's uniform was in a jumbled heap on the other end of the couch. Jazz perched on the edge of the armchair, eyes sparkling as she waited for Sam to begin. Tucker merely sank to the floor, crossing his legs and resting his head on his hand, elbow propped on one knee. They were all looking at Sam expectantly; she took a deep breath, glancing at Danny, and began.

"About six months ago, I was patrolling with Trish, and there was...an accident," She swallowed hard, refusing to meet the gaze of any of the three. She opted to stare at her knees. "We were...ah...I'm not supposed to talk about this,"

Danny's warm hand found her knee, squeezing gently. "It's okay," He whispered.

"Well, we were patrolling a building. It was an extremely important building," Sam paused, biting back the tears that had sprung in her eyes. Danny watched, tender concern grilling him with guilt for forcing Sam to talk about something that had obviously caused her a lot of pain. "The building had a bomb planted in it, but we didn't know,"

Jazz gasped, convering her mouth with her hands. Tucker appeared to be completely awake now, his eyes suddenly alert and focused on Sam's face. "The bomb blew the whole building to pieces, which is how I got all of these,"

She stood and allowed the blanket to pool on the floor at her feet. Danny went numb with shock. She was covered in scars. They flitted across her chest and dipped below her camisole, weaving beneath the thin straps on her shoulders and fading into nothingness. They danced down her arms and legs, some crossing over others, creating odd, lopsided cross formations. On the thin strip of flesh Danny could see on her midriff, one particularly thick, deep, nasty-looking scar smirked up at him. Sam turned slowly, revealing even more scars on her shoulders and the backs of each leg. As he inspected her, he realized that tiny scars pressed themselves up her neck and face; he had been so distracted by the fact that she was back that he had not even registered the changes to her skin.

"The building literally came down on top of us," Sam said quietly, settling back into the couch. "I actually wasn't that injured, I was on the far side of the building when it went down. But Trish was right there next to the thing," Her voice grew bitter as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I had to find her. So I literally dug through the remains of the building, nearly killed myself, just to find her..." She shuddered, closing her eyes tightly. "She was crushed to death beneath the weight of the building. Not to mention...she was blown to bits by that bomb."

The others were silent, staring at her in shock. "And that's not even everything that happened," Sam said quietly, still not meeting their gazes. "Iraqis showed up right after. One of them shot me. I just played dead."

Danny felt his blood boil. He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth. "One of them shot you?" He whispered, narrowing his eyes to slits as he seethed.

"Yes, Danny. I'm an American soldier, they were Iraqi soldiers...kind of part of the deal, that we shoot at each other, since we're enemies," Sam said, taking one of his fists in both of his hands. Her fingers stroked his tensed knuckles; soon his hand was limp in hers, gently squeezing whenever her fingers dipped between his.

"Why didn't you ever tell us any of this?" Jazz asked quietly. Tucker nodded in agreement, apparently unable to speak. He wore an deeply disturbed expression for someone who was usually so carefree.

"It's not exactly something you can just send in an email," She said dryly, still playing with Danny's hand. "But that's the real reason I didn't respond to you guys for those few days. I was bedridden in the infirmary,"

Danny felt a small wave of relief; at least her mysterious absence a few months before had finally been explained. He shuddered, remembering that hellish week and a half. He'd immediately gone to the worst possible solution, that Sam had been killed, and was in a frenzied panic, refusing to budge from the computer until her email came. She had the lame excuse that the internet had stopped working in her base, but Danny had bought it immediately, his extreme relief to be hearing from her again allowing him to look over the obvious ruse. Although, he thought, my assumption wasn't far from the truth...

"I recovered fine, but they wouldn't put me back out in action since I had gotten so hurt," She said, making a brave attempt at a smile. "That's actually why I was sent home early, since my job pretty much dwindled down to doing nothing,"

"So...you were sent home early...because you had such a serious injury?" Tucker asked slowly.

"Well...kind of,"

"Where were you shot?" Danny asked quietly, pulling his hand gently out of her grasp. He needed to know, the burning desire to see the wound overtaking him.

Wordlessly, she lifted the hem of the camisole upward, revealing the skin of her stomach and, in turn, even more pale scars. The angry scar that had taunted Danny earlier wound around her back, he realized in dismay; he was absorbed in said scar, following its' spiralling progress toward her spine, when his eyes came to rest on two circular dips on her ribcage. He felt his mouth fall open in shock. The bullet had whizzed right through her, torn through her tiny frame. Hot, angry tears burned his eyes, blurring his vision.

"I swear to God," Danny growled. "If I EVER find out who it was who did this to you..."

Sam stared at him, blinking in shock. "I'm...actually kind of glad this happened, really,"

Six eyes stared at her in confusion. "Uh...why is that?" Tucker asked.

"Because if it hadn't, I wouldn't be here with you guys right now. I'd still be fighting in Iraq."

Danny could feel himself pale at the thought. His hand found hers again, intertwining their fingers possessively. Perhaps there is a silver lining, he thought as the girl beside him gazed up at him lovingly.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," She added in a whisper, leaning into Danny's arm.

He dropped her hand and ghosted his fingers across the bullet wound. He watched her face carefully, pausing when his fingers made contact with the old scar; the pain of the injury echoed deep in the recesses of her eyes.

"Neither would I," He whispered back, kissing her forehead lightly. "I'll go make hot chocolate,"


Hm...you know what I just realized?

I HAVE A PLOT!

Briefly mentioned in the chapter before, Sam confessed she couldn't wait to hug Danny.

(check.)

Danny mentioned he couldn't wait to take Sam flying.

(uncheck.)

Oh, it's on, plot bunny.

Passive readers are the WORST KIND OF READER.

Be a good reader.

Review.

I won't bake you cookies, since cyber cookies probably don't taste as good.

Not that I can cook.

(:

- Tori