iConfront Colonel Shay

Carly stirred against Sam, after what seemed like an eternity. She stretched, catlike, and let out a weak yawn. Her lips met Sam's naked shoulder. She lay there, spooning Sam, completely content. She felt, for a moment, the safety and peace she had known only once before – as a small child.

The loss of a parent at any age is traumatic, but for Carly Shay, it was brutal.

From the age of ten, she had felt, as best as she could describe, like an orphan.

Strange though it was, laying here in her bed on the second floor of the loft – the studio above her, the main floor below – Carly could only equate the peace Sam brought her to those midday naps with her mother all those years ago, when she was small. Warm. Protected. At peace. She wrapped her arms around Sam's naked torso, hanging on for dear life.

"I love you." Carly whispered. Half awake, she shut her eyes again, knowing full well that this joy would be short-lived.

Sam moaned, lost in a dream.

"I love you, Sam. God, do I love you…"

Carly could hear desperation in her own voice, as if this were all a dream she was afraid might evaporate before her eyes.

"I love you, Sam…" Carly repeated.

Every time she said the words, she felt stronger.

"I love you. I love you. I love you…" she whispered. Her eyes still heavy with sleep, Carly let her face sink into the soft flesh of Sam's back. She would lie here forever, if she could.

"Cupcake…" Sam finally spoke, her mouth full of pillow. Carly flushed. She felt her heart race every time Sam called her that. She knew that she would need Sam today, more than any other day. If Sam could stand by her through this – walk with her through Hell and back – Carly knew they could face anything – together.

"Guess who's coming to dinner, Daddy…" she thought.

Still oblivious to everything but Carly, Sam unconsciously fought her embrace and rolled over, now nose to nose with Carly.

Carly couldn't resist. She leaned in and gently kissed the tip of Sam's nose.

Sam stirred, her eyes fluttering.

"Morning, Cupcake.." Sam yawned.

"Hey, Mama." Carly spoke with a lilt in her voice, hinting at lust. "Sleep well?

Sam yawned. Carly took that as a 'yes'. She had the weight of the world on her back today, and she knew that without her knight in shining penny tee, the pressure would surely snap her spine.

"Sam, look…" Carly began. "About today… it's okay if you don't…"

Sam cut her off.

"Carls, I told you, I'm down."

Carly knew what Sam had told her, but Sam had never seen Colonel Steven Shay out of uniform – behind closed doors. Carly's father was a great many things to any number of people. To his colleagues, he was a decorated officer, someone to trust with their lives. To Carly, however, he was the alcoholic. The screamer. The breaker of all things fragile and precious – including her own mother.

"Sam," Carly continued, "I'm…I'm…I'm just terrified of him. He's dangerous, and I know it's going to come down to him versus me… I don't know what to do."

Carly sobbed. Sam shushed her.

"Carls, I know it's huge, and I know you're afraid, but you have me, and besides, that man has no right to say anything to us. It doesn't matter what happens today. I'll be right here."

Carly knew Sam was right, of course. Over the last several years, Steven Shay had become much less of a parent and more of an absentee landlord. Truly, he may have been responsible for her being born, but, as far as Carly was concerned, he wasn't her family; that was a sphere consisting primarily of Spencer, Freddie, and Sam – especially her Sam.

Carly sat up, separating herself for Sam for the first time in hours. She didn't want to, but her father would be here in just over an hour. She knew that she and Sam had to look presentable, and wrinkled penny tees and slept-in skinny jeans weren't going to cut it.

"Perception is power." She thought.

She leaned in, gave Sam a quick peck on the cheek, got to her feet, and made her way towards her bathroom.

A SHORT TIME LATER…

Carly gave herself the once-over in the full length mirror. She certainly didn't feel like a teenage girl. Dressed in her chunky heels, skinny black jeans, a black top, and a sweater, she felt like she was going to a funeral… or a job interview, she didn't know which. Sam was squeezing herself into a pair of Carly's khakis and had borrowed Carly's best navy blue blouse. If Carly didn't know better, she would have mistaken Sam for Melanie. This was out of character for Sam, but she looked amazing.

"Ready or not," Carly thought, "here we come…"

Her makeover complete, Sam took Carly's hand and they descended the stairs together, ready to face their fears, come what may.

The moment she descended the final stair and entered the living room, an enormous weight was lifted from Carly's heart. He came. He did love her.

"What's up, Buttercup? Come 'ere and give me a hug," the man said warmly. "I love you."

Carly buried her face in the man's shoulder and exhaled deeply. He looked to Sam and greeted her as warmly as he could.

"Samantha…" He wasn't sure if she remembered him from all those years ago, but that wasn't relevant now.

"Uncle Roger… you came… Thank you." Carly said, meekly.

Roger Morgan, her parent's oldest friend and Carly's godfather, held her tight.

"Of course I did. You needed me, so here I am."

"But, what about the Colonel?" Carly's voice trailed off.

Roger Morgan simply lowered his face to Carly's forehead and kissed her. He walked her to the sofa and sat beside her, with Sam seated on Carly's opposite side. In midst of the tender moments, neither Carly nor Sam had noticed Spencer, who sat next to Sam on the far end of the sofa – and he was wearing a brand new suit.

Without so much as a moment's warning, the tumblers in the door lock began to click into place and the knob turned.

Colonel Steven Shay had arrived. Without so much as a word, the six foot two Air Force officer, dressed in full uniform, stepped inside, his eyes locked on his youngest child, seated on his sofa.

Colonel Shay surveyed the room. Carly knew exactly what he was doing. Threat Assessment.

"OH, WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?" He glared at his daughter. This was an ambush. Spencer. Roger Morgan. That Girl.

"It's exactly what it looks like, Colonel. Everything you taught me growing up." Carly snapped, sickly sweet, her tone mocking the very order he had so ruthlessly imposed on his children those many years ago. "You taught me to analyze my opponent; learn their vulnerabilities. Well, Daddy, you taught me well."

"So you honestly expect me to sit here – in my own home – and listen to you, your brother, and…. Her… and accept what you've done with your life?" Colonel Shay asked. His tone was making Sam sick. "If your mother were here…"

Carly cut him short.

"HOW DARE YOU! If my mother were here, she'd do what you're incapable of, you sad, pathetic bastard… She would love her child!"

"Why, you ungrateful little bit—..." Colonel Shay drew his hand back, ready to strike his daughter for her insolence. Immediately, Steven Shay regretted it. He was now staring down the man he considered his oldest friend – fellow Air Force officer Roger Morgan, complete in full dress uniform.

"Lay a hand on my goddaughter, Steven, and SO HELP ME GOD…."

"Roger, this doesn't concern you! You know as well as I do that if Maureen were alive…"

"Maureen was a good woman, Steven, if you don't remember. She adored her children. It also seems to me that you forget just how much your daughter and Maureen have in common… She looks like her, sounds like her, and, frankly, Colonel, they share the same capacity for unconditional love." Roger Morgan felt his pulse quicken, but he kept his tone measured and cold. "Perhaps if you had spent a bit more time tending to your family, rather than drinking yourself into a haze, you'd know that."

Steven Shay couldn't stand it one more second. This was completely unacceptable. He was losing control. There must always be order.

He raised his hand to Carly for a second time. She would learn some respect!

There was a sickening crunching sound and before anyone realized what had happened, Colonel Steven Shay lay on the floor of the loft, writhing in pain. His arm had been broken in two places.

"I warned you, Steven. You will not harm one hair on my precious goddaughter's head!" Roger Morgan looked down at his former friend, dejected. "It's become painfully clear to me, Colonel, that you are certainly not the man I thought you were."

No one made a move to offer Carly's father the slightest measure of comfort.

Carly knew she needed to say something.

"Uncle Roger," her voice quavered. "You didn't have to…"

"But I did, Buttercup. The day you were born, I promised your mother that I would always protect you. I just never imagined that Steven would be the one I was protecting you from, and for that, I'm sorry."

"About all of this… about Sam and I…" she began "I know it must be difficult for you, but …"

Morgan interrupted her.

"Carly, my feelings are immaterial. You're old enough to decide for yourself. If she makes you happy, then that is all that matters, as far as I am concerned."

This was certainly not what Carly had envisioned, but she couldn't love her Uncle Roger any more than she did at this very moment. She knew he may not fully understand or approve of her relationship with Sam, but it was apparent that he loved her. She turned to Sam. Nothing needed to be said. Excuses were whispered.

Trailing behind Carly at a deliberately slow pace, Sam Puckett delivered a well placed kick to Steven Shay's ribs.

"Bastard," she hissed.

Finding Carly's waiting hand instinctually, they quietly exited the apartment.

Whatever happened next, they didn't need to be a part of it.