Me: Guess what, chicken butt? It's time for the next update in CWACOM. (teehee) It's funny saying that...but whatev. ON WITH!

(Normal POV)

While Sam was getting chewed out by everyone in the lobby, Flint had just woken up in his hospital room, and he really felt like the worst kind of crap imaginable (which is saying something).

He absolutely could not move his right arm, and his headache made his head ring like an overused gong. The poor inventor couldn't see straight, and everytime he heard a voice, it sounded like they were drunk. In fact, he couldn't remember how to make a simple compass, which meant his brain was busted.

The doctors were seriously worried that the shot they gave Flint might have given him amnesia, or some form of it, because he didn't even remember who was waiting anxiously outside for his news, a certain redhead. (I don't really know if you can call Sam a redhead, but I didn't wanna call her the 'orange-headed girl' all the time. Sorreh)

Currently, Flint was debating over whether or not his head hurt more than his snarling stomach, until he decided that the pain in his tummy was a tad bit worse than his slowly depleting headache.

I really need some food... Flint thought and tried to get up, but ended up falling back into the semi-comfortable hospital bed after his belly gave a dangerously loud "Arrrrrrrrghhhhh".

Flint sighed and scratched his head, glancing around the bland hospital room, finally managing to stand up. There was a giant window on the far wall, opposite his bed, and it gave a view of the ten floors below him. It was a relatively large hospital, though Flint didn't really care. Then a weird thought hit him as a redhead walked below him, looking like an ant.

He had some very fuzzy memories of a girl with reddish-orange hair, and that she was...perfect. The young inventor smiled to himself, and racked his brain for her name.

What's her name, what's her name? Flint said to himself, frustrated that his damaged brain couldn't come up with any answers. She had to have a name, didn't she? Of course she did, every human has a name, right? So then what's her freaking name?

Flint finally gave up and sighed wearily and sat back down. That boosted his headache above his growling stomach, and he groaned and clutched his head, but a sharp pain in his elbow brought his arm back down to the bed, and the poor boy sighed slightly again. He was really broken, and there wasn't a thing Flint could do about it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Sam looked up from her hands when a female nurse came rushing at her, carrying a sleek clipboard.

"Miss Sparks?" Her high-pitched voice was slightly nasal, and it made Sam's ears ring.

"Yeah?" the weather girl asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Uh, Mr. Lockwood is ready to see you, is that--" Sam didn't give the blonde a chance to finish her sentence, because she jumped up and grabbed the nurse's arm.

"Where is he? How's he doing? Is he gonna be--" The nurse laughed.

"Calm down, I'll take you to him now." Sam rolled her eyes and followed the nurse (who she found out was Janet by sneaking a quick peek at her clipboard) to the elevator and pressed a button that had a number 13 on it.

Surprisingly, Sam found out that there was no annoying elevator music, which she thought was common in Manhattan hospitals. Oh, well; it wasn't like she missed it.

Sam and the nurse exited the elevator and Janet pointed to a door that said "Room 210". "Mr. Lockwood is in there. Be cautious though; he might have amnesia."

The redhead nodded and gently pushed open the door, clicking it shut behind her. Flint was sleeping somewhat peacefully on the cramped bed, and Sam smiled inwardly. He looked so relaxed that she almost walked back out, not wanting to disturb her love. Almost.

Sam stepped to the bed, taking care not to make too much noise while crossing the room. She grinned at how much wilder his hair had gotten, and took her jell-o scrunchie out of her pocket. The girl glanced at it, not really knowing whether she should slip it on or not. If, indeed, Flint did have amnesia, would it be wise to put it on, so he would remember her?

Sam decided it would be for the better and put her hair up with the jell-o, making sure that she didn't look away from Flint's slumbering face. When she was done, she rested her hands on Flint's cheek, gently stroking it and humming a quiet lullaby to herself. Hopefully this wouldn't wake Flint.

They, boyfriend and girlfriend, sat like that for what could've been minutes or hours, until finally one of Flint's eyes fluttered open.

He glanced at the familiar-looking girl, and a look of confusion came over his once calm features. This was the girl he was trying to remember, right? Red/orange hair, green eyes, flawless features, yeah this was her all right. But he still couldn't remember her darn name!

"Flint?" the stranger said softly, taking her hands off of his face. He frowned, and then her name came pounding back to him. Sam Sparks.

"S-Sam?" Flint said hoarsely, wondering if he had gotten her name right. Apparently he had scored, because she smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, it's me. The doctors said you had amnesia..." She trailed off, searching him with her eyes. Flint shrugged.

"I...I don't know. I don't remember anything before I got here," he said honestly, playing with a strand of her hair. It simply fascinated him, and the inventor managed to make his girlfriend blush lightly.

"Oh. Well, you might not want to know about it then..." Sam hesitated, twiddling her thumbs and nervously looking away from him. Flint frowned again, and poked her cheek.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad, right?"

Sam looked at him, unsure, until she finally sighed and smiled. "Ok. Uh, you were kidnapped by some jerks and beat up, then held for ransom, and I came and got you in ChewandSwallow, then we got on the medical helicopter and one of the doctors stabbed you with a needle, and then you passed out. So here we are," she explained hurriedly, glancing at him curiously.

Flint was silent for a moment before finally nodding, remembering the horror. "Oh, yeah. Are you Ok, too?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Flint." Then her face contorted into a look of worry. "But, are you Ok? You shouldn't be worrying about me; nothing happened to me at all. You were bleeding really badly on the way back, too."

The truth was, his migraine was considerately down to a minor headache. He was still ravenous, but it wasn't as bad with Sam sitting beside him. "Good, actually. I really can't move my arm, but everything else is pretty good."

They both glanced down to his right arm, and found that a black cast was fastened onto his forearm. It only looked like his wrist was broken, or something like that, so it wasn't too serious. Flint shrugged and cautiously sat up, grinning in triumph when he reached his goal.

"You have to be hungry, you've been in this hospital for awhile," Sam said, reading his mind. Flint nodded.

"Yeah, I'm a little hungry. I don't want you to rush yourself, though, Sam. It's really no--"

"Don't worry, I'm getting a bit hungry myself. I'll go get us some food, and you stay here, Ok?" the redhead suggested and stood up, stretching her joints. Flint didn't seem too excited about making his girlfriend get food for him like a maid, but sighed and nodded anyways.

"Ok, but don't push yourself, Sammy." Sam giggled at her nickname and walked out of the room, shutting the door again. Flint relaxed again and smirked to himself. At least he didn't have to wait in line, but it wasn't too exciting that his angel had to.

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, right?

Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, reeeeeeeeeeally shirt chappie. But I'm rushing because I have to pack for my Thanksgiving trip to Atlanta, so WHATEVER. R&R, and have an awesome Turkey Day!

;D

-Peachuz