"So scratchy. Feels like spiders are crawling all over my face."
"Wanna trade?" a throaty voice sounded from behind her.
"Heck yes. Ugh. I wish I could just burglarize in the nude," Sam bemoaned.
"Well, I wouldn't be so opposed to that," a hushed snicker sounded from the dark figure. Ignoring the remark, Sam pulled off her ski mask, unleashing her wild blonde mane before handing it off to Griffin. He in turn passed to her a simple black, cotton, ski cap which she drew over her head, making sure that every strand of her ponytailed hair was strategically tucked underneath. From experience, Sam knew that the number one rule to criminal behavior was to hide one's most distinguishing feature. The number two rule, to burn all of the evidence and deny, deny, deny.
Griffin's masked face popped up over her shoulder. "Okay babe, I'm ready when you are." He dropped to a knee and took a deep bow, the palms of his hands set against the gravel road.
Taking a step back, Sam ran towards the wall at full speed. Her legs changed direction as she hit the vertically-sloped bricks and her cat-like frame went upwards with it. Flipping over gracefully, she landed on top of Griffin's flat black, her knees bending into a full compact squat before she used her momentum to spring forward and catch the tall ledge of the level rooftop. Her gloved hands caught at a gutter that creaked at her weight. She looked down at the three floor drop… She'd rather not fall tonight, thankyouverymuch. Mama eats pancakes, she doesn't become one. Adjusting her hands accordingly, she moved her arms, hitching herself by the nailed down points of the pipe rather the sagging middle. Using her legs to swing back and forth, she pushed her thighs extra hard behind her and folded her knees into a somersault backwards onto the rooftop.
That familiar buzz of adrenaline kicked in as the cool night air dried the sweat of exertion from her forehead. Her lips curved in a self satisfied smile of accomplishment. The blonde desperado decided that she had an affinity for high places. She loved the wind, the view, the sweet silence of solitarity. Maybe I was a bird in a past life.
"Hey!" a whispered delivery came from below, "What's the hold up?" She rolled her eyes. It was nice while it lasted. Sam unsnapped a pocket of her utility belt and pulled out a black cable, unrolling it from its reel and dropping it over the side of the building. She ran to the other side of the roof and laid down, digging her heels into the shingles. A confirming CLICK of a switch and the cord locked in place.
Down around the back of the building, Griffin took a hold of the black rope and tugged lightly, checking its tautness. Satisfied that Sam was in location, he pulled out a steel block and tackle with his left hand and clipped it to the rope. With his right hand, he whipped out a twin grip and began pulling himself up the wire, his biceps and triceps making quick work of the three stories as his legs propelled him forward.
Reaching the top of the roof, he staggered a bit towards his partner his crime, his legs burning. Sam looked at him with questioning eyes and a teasing grin, "Really? It was that hard huh? Looks like someone needs to hit the treadmill."
"Hey… you hook me up with some of that magic cereal and we'll talk stamina." Griffin sniped back with, a little bashful at his fatigue. "Now where's that's skylight window?" Sam walked ten paces south and finding the reflective surface, crouched down to examine it.
"This'll be quick," she smirked, staring at the poor craftsmanship of the window and locks. The opening was approximately four-by-four feet. There were three thick padlocked bolts keeping the shatterproof window closed. "So amateur," Sam criticized. Instead of tackling the padlocks, the blonde took a screwdriver handle from her utility belt, twisted the right size screw bit into the socket and went to work on the hinges. Within minutes, she took them apart, opening the window and folding it back onto its padlocked bolts. This was as easy as stealing candy from a baby. But they weren't finished yet, three iron rods ran along the porthole, barring entry.
Griffin pulled a handheld torch from his cargo pocket and unchained it from his belt buckle. Sparks flew as he melted the middle point of the metal rod to malleability. The iron glowed a warm orange and Sam pushed it and pulled on it, bending it back and forth until it snapped. The same routine was repeated for a second bar and as it broke off, the hole proved to be plenty of room for both of them to jump through, one at a time.
Sam leaped down and found herself in the stockroom of a humble jewelry parlor surrounded by little cardboard trays of semi-precious stones and small scraps of flaked gold waiting to be remolded. Three one-by-one foot steel safes sat in the far corner of the room and Sam moved to it quickly, her hands and ears trained to get at the ungettable. The taller boy looked down through the portal, waiting for her to clear before coming down after her. He jumped down and rolled once into a standing posture to muzzle the sound of his heavy footsteps hitting the ground. He immediately unzipped his backpack and grabbed at everything shiny he could spot while Sam spent her time breaking open the challenging safe.
"Mmmm, c'mon baby, open for Mama." Sam kissed the safe for good luck before pressing her ear against its door and delicately rotating the dial rightwards with her gloved hand. In seconds, she heard the soft sharp echo of metal grating and locking against metal. A wide smile broke out onto the blonde's face reaching from ear to ear. She began swiveling the dial counterclockwise.
Click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click creeak.
Better than ham, better than Persian chocolates, better than a moderately cute boy rubbing her feet with lotion, better than a personal hired Singaporean chef was the sound of a nearly cracked safe gracing her earlobe. Just one more… and the resonance of clicking began once again. By now, Griffin had snatched everything foundable by the naked eye and was now rustling through cabinets and drawers looking for more. He knew better than to disturb Sam when she was in the middle of her craft. She trusted him to do his part without error. Neither of them paid much attention to each other. If they had, maybe the blonde would've noticed and been able to tell her counterpart that he was making far too much noise.
The safe door popped open and Sam thought that she might fall over. The duo had recently hit gas stations and pawn shops a couple dozen miles out of town but they had never ventured into anything so superior as a jewelry parlor before. The risks were elevated, but the incentive was much greater. Wrapped green bills stacked nicely on top of each other in the small compartment. There had to be at least fifteen thousand dollars in there. Sam opened up her pack and began robotically filling it up to the brim. She had to convince herself it was nothing more than paper monopoly money to stop herself from squealing.
"Stop wut yer doing and put dem hands up!" a voice demanded behind her. Sam groaned.
"Griffin, stop playing around."
"It's not me… um, Dorothy."
Sam's pale aqua eyes shot to her left. Griffin was standing next to her, his hands held up in surrender. His eyes communicated complete seriousness. She slowly turned around.
"I'ma need you to toss that there bag o'er here and git on the ground." The broguish security guard intoned, his country accent heavy with warning.
Sam studied him. He was younger, she was guessing in his twenties. The tie to his uniform was askew and his forehead was heavy with nervous sweat. "And if I don't?" she briefly flirted with him as she looped her arms through her backpack straps.
"Then I'ma have to shoot you en I wuzn't trained to maim Ma'am, I wuz trained to kill." His hands betrayed his words by quivering as he held the gun at her. She knew what this was. He was inexperienced, out of his element. It was a complete bluff.
"I'm thinking you've never shot at anyone your entire life," she wagered beguilingly. Sam gave him a chesire wink, "If you had, you'd know that your safety was on." She reached out in front of herself and pushed at his index finger, pressing the trigger three times in a row. The chamber refusing to revolve signalled that there was no way a bullet was coming out anytime soon.
"Ah.. Ah knew dat." He furrowed his brow before using his thumb to flick back the safety gear. Before he could pull the trigger, Sam reached out and snapped the safety back on.
The trigger resisted the security guard's finger.
The man's eyes went wide with surprise. His mouth opened and he worked at a syllable. His thumb stretched out to flip the safety off.
Oh no, dangerous territory. Sam reached out and flipped the safety back on.
"Hay! Stop it," the guard said in a plaintative voice. He flicked the safety back off.
She flicked it back on.
He switched the safety back off and shot at her, but right in the midst of the two actions, her hands quickly switched it back on. He looked at her in resentment. Ooh, she was pushing some buttons now.
He turned the safety off, but couldn't shoot before Sam turned it back on. He growled and fended Sam's fingers off with his thumb, flipping the safety off for the final time.
"Ha!" he laughed triumphantly.
In a blur, Sam wrenched the gun from him, emptied the five bullets from their chambers, bent the cannon at a right angle so that the barrel now shot upwards and handed it back to him, safety off. A honeyed eyebrow rose challengingly as she bent down along her leg to tuck the bullets safely away in her sock. "Got a Plan B?"
As expected, he threw the revolver down and swung at her in fury. Sam grabbed his right arm in mid-swing with her left and pulling down on it, used her right hand to grab the back of his skull, driving his head downwards into her upwards-launching knee. CRACK and he was out for good.
"Let's take off!" Griffin urged. "He's got backup coming!" Police sirens began to wail making the boy's words evident. Griffin flew past Sam, his arm hooking around her and spinning her a full 180 degrees into a sprint. As the boy leaped down the stairs, Sam jumped onto the handrail, surfing on the slippery middle surface of her shoes to gracefully catch up with her ride. They smashed through a back window and clambered out, tripping a laser alarm in the process. It didn't matter. The cops already knew they were there. Griffin jumped onto his motorcycle and pulled around for Sam to straddle it behind him. She wrapped her arms around the boy and his full backpack for dear life as he skidded out, skillfully eluding the sight of two police vehicles as he revved down the opposite direction of the back street.
"Watch out!" A shriek came from behind Griffin as he swerved around a moving truck that veered to avoid them. Sam began laughing at the biker's formidable driving. They had gotten away with it.
Mmmmm, Sam luxuriated at the rush. The thrill of being bad was undeniable. This had been a lot of fun. More fun than she would have expected. Best of all, her real life... the one filled with loneliness and rejection and uncertainty... seemed very, very far away.
Freddie and Carly were walking the streets looking for Sam when Freddie's eye caught sight of Griffin's motorcycle speeding past them, a block away. He chalked it up to a random motorist, never having known Griffin too well himself. Carly could have sworn she smelled the gas before she even heard the explosion. She and Freddie had just made it across Fifth Avenue when a moving truck skidded through a red light and fishtailed, taking two cabs and a silver Honda civic with it. There was a huge cacophony of screeching metal, shattering glass, and earsplitting screams and then an odd sort of silence.
"Oh my god," Freddie said, his voice sounding like it came through a black tunnel to reach her ears.
That was when she heard the baby wailing.
Freddie grabbed at Carly's fingers, predicting what she was about to do, "Carly! We can't do anything about it. We'll be exposed. There's witnesses everywhere!"
She twisted out of his grip easily, "I can do it. You stand back here and see if you can… lift the car a little bit. Just try to blend in." With that, she cut through a group of onlookers, half of whom were gaping, the other half helpfully dialing 911 on their cell phones.
"Huge truck-"
"Fire starting-"
"Get an ambulance here as-"
A few words repeated themselves in Carly's mind as she skidded towards the crumpled, flipped silver sedan. It rose two inches and the brunette knew that Freddie, though not physically by her side, was supporting her and would keep her from getting crushed.
Gas. Mother. Fire. Baby. Explosion. Orphan.
Carly hit the ground on her knees, ripping gaping holes in her pants. The grit and slimy grime of the street pressed their way around the wrinkly flesh around her knees, along with a few pieces of glass. Some part of her brain registered the fact that it was going to hurt later, but she couldn't think about it right now. All she could consciously deal with at the moment was the sight of a red-faced, screaming baby, relatively unharmed, hanging upside down in his car seat. And the sight of a woman, knocked out, bleeding from the forehead, pressed at an impossible angle over the roof of the car, her arms flopped over her like a rag doll's.
"Hey kid!" someone's voice yelled from the side of the street. "Get out of there! It's going to blow." The voice sounded panicked. Carly knew she was probably about to die, but it didn't hit her. Nothing was hitting her the way it was supposed to. Carly stuck her hand under the woman's nose, fully expecting to feel the cold absence of breath but instead feeling a little burst of warmth. Good. But the baby had to come first. Carly flipped over on her back and shimmied her way through the smashed window of the car, sliding along the inside of the roof.
It was a close fit, but she managed to cram her body under the screaming child. She held his stomach with one hand, and unhinged the tiny cloth belt on his seat with the other. Cradling the wailing baby against her chest, Carly squirmed her way back out the window.
Luckily there was a cop standing right over her, panting, His face was determined, but his skin was sallow.
"Give him to me and get the hell out of here," the tall, burly cop said.
Carly handed him the baby and immediately crouched down to work on the mother.
"Young lady," the cop spat out over the screams of the baby and the wail of the too distant siren. "There's gas, there's fire. How stupid are you?"
Stupid, brave, and willing. It was amazing what a lethal combination of all three could produce when the heart cried mutiny against the head. This scene was so familiar to the motherless girl, that she had to shut down any semblance of emotion to focus on the state of affairs.
"So go," Carly said, reaching into the car and grunting as she worked at the twisted mess. There was no blood around her abdomen, which made Carly feel a little better about her prospects, but the buckle seemed to be jammed.
"You're crazy," the cop said, before turning on heel and fleeing. Carly could smell the gas. She could hear the fire and feel its heat. A little bit. Carly decided. As uncharacteristic as this kick of courageousness was, Carly knew what it felt like to lose a parent to a car crash. As a kid, she had been powerless. Well, this time she wasn't. This time, Carly understood that she had the power to do something. She was determined to not let this child lose his mother.
Desperate yells and screams rang out from the side of the road, the loudest of which were Freddie's. And the sirens grew louder and more persistent every minute, piercing her head with sharp slices of pain.
But she ignored all of it. She had to. It was the only way she could work.
Carly jammed her thumb into the belt button with every ounce of strength one digit could contain, and it finally popped free. The woman slumped down even farther. Carly reached out a hand and cradled the woman's head. There was blood pouring from her head wound and Carly knew that the only place she'd be able to heal this woman in private was right where she was, hidden from view by the toppled car above her. She heard a popping sound and briefly wondered if that meant the whole car was about to burst into flames. Would that be the last sound she ever heard?
Carly placed the palms of her hand onto the woman's head and willed her hands to warm up. She could see it now. The tissue of her skin, her red blood cells, the punctured veins… Carly focused on the woman's white blood cells and platelets, swishing them around, collecting them and bringing them to the lining of the vessels to begin an accelerated clotting that would repair the fissures. Next was skin… skin was easy. Carly directed her energy into the torn epidermis layer of her body and willed the cells into mitosis, synthesizing ATP, the electrical energy that would cause them to grow and multiply. It was working… there was a nasty scar on her head but it was definitely healing over. The woman moaned and Carly grabbed her under the arms, pulling her free from the car. The woman's heel caught on a chip of glass. It pulled off the shoe and a long shallow gash opened in the flesh around her heel.
The woman didn't seem to feel it so Carly ignored it as she dragged the woman across the street at as much of a run as possible. As she got closer to the sidewalk, a stocky man in a green apron and a tan hoodie jacket came out and took the woman in his arms.
"Inside," he told Carly, nodding toward the small cafe, where a couple dozen people were ducked behind the furniture, trying not to look at the wreck. Carly saw Freddie staring at her from behind the counter, his eyes full of fear, anger, and gratitude.
There were more screams. A shower of glass. Still outside, Carly felt the thrust of heat and turned to look at the road, watching as a puff of flame and smoke rose up from the sedan in a cloud that extinguished itself as quickly as it appeared.
Before Carly could even register how queasy she felt at the sight she just witnessed and how much all she had wanted to do was find Sam and some safe arms she could relax into, she was bombarded by more people than she ever wanted in her personal space.
"Are you insane?"
"How did you do that?"
"Do you want to go out sometime?"
"Hey- There's the news van! Over here!"
As Carly wiped the itchy sweat from her brow, she caught a glimpse of a big blue van with a huge antenna screeching towards the scene of the accident. The crowd was gesturing wildly for the driver's attention, clamoring for their fifteen minutes and wanting to thrust Carly's upon her.
There was a bright white light. A couple of flashes.
"Freddie!" Carly yelled, searching the crowd for him.
"I know," he said, right at her elbow. "Let's go. Let's go home, Carly."
Sam held up above her a gold ring topped with an amethyst jewel. Its deep hue twinkled as the light hit it. So pretty.
"Engine's running good and I just replaced the struts." Griffin noted as he walked around the car to where Sam was laying down, her head cushioned by her red and black checkered backpack.
"Great. So I can start driving towards the sunset anytime I please?" Sam asked, sliding the numerous stolen rings over all ten fingers. She began to estimate how much she'd get for them at a pawn shop.
Griffin flopped down on the garage floor and splayed his feet in front of him. "Yup, just gotta stop to top off the gas tank. When you leavin'?" he asked.
"Maybe tonight," the blonde shrugged.
"Where you goin'?"
"East of wherever."
"You sure you don't want me to give it a paint job? The cash we got tonight is more than enough to get it done."
Sam's eyes shifted leftwards towards the rusted, yellow, 90's Chevy. She kinda liked it. It was rough around the edges, just like her. "Nah, I'll probably need it for where I'm going. Ham-spendin' monay."
Griffin nodded stoicly, respecting her preference. Sam always had been a tough shell to crack. The reason why their friendship worked so well was because of how much leeway they always gave each other. They treated each other as equals without judgment. There was never any questions about a decision that was made. The proximity of the wide berth they gave each other, ironically, was what made them so close.
It sucked that he felt that standard protocol needed to be broken tonight.
"So do you want to tell me what you're running from?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Griffin sighed and laid down next to Sam, settling his head on his folded arms behind him. They both stared at the ceiling, counting the number of tiles it was composed of.
"You wanna do it now? I'm suddenly in the mood." Griffin nudged her suggestively, wagging his eyebrows comedically.
"Heh. Yes, but not with you." Sam grinned his direction.
"Ouch, damn Puckett. Harsh… Who is it then?" Sam stayed silent at his question, folding and unfolding her legs over one another absentmindedly. "Well… why don't you go tell this special someone that you'd like to make it with them?"
"Heck no," Sam protested.
"Coward!" Griffin cried out accusingly. He got slugged in the shoulder for it. "My grandma's got more cajones than you."
"Your grandma's been dead for seven years, Griff."
"Yup, shows you how soft you're being." The boy chewed at his bottom lip, "Is it who I think it is?" The mechanic sat up and wiped his hands on his pant legs.
"Mmmhm."
"Not bad taste. C'mon, we're going. Anybody you're in love with deserves to know it." A muscular arm reached out towards Sam to help her to her feet.
Sam looked up at the tall building standing at Bushwell Plaza. She began walking towards it before she hesitated and stopped in her tracks, peeking backwards over her shoulder. "Don't look at me, what are you waitin' for? I ain't lettin' you punk out Puckster." Griffin glared at her from the seat of his motorcycle.
Sam took in a deep breath and began walking towards the fire escape, taking the stairs two at a time. She would do it, she decided. She'd tell the love of her life how she really felt. And… and that person would love her back, no matter what, she would make sure of it. She would be the best Sam Puckett she could be. Brown eyes… dark hair… a seductive smile that made her mind go fuzzy…
What the problem was, was that nobody ever cared about Sam, so Sam had to care about Sam. She was so busy taking care of herself that she didn't feel as though she had anything left to offer someone she cared for. Sam had to believe that the universe revolved around her. She needed some pretense of self-worth. It was a survival mechanism. Now that her world revolved around someone else, she was hopelessly lost.
"Is that you, Sam?" A voice called out from above her as her footsteps shook the metallic steps alerting the tenants to her presence. "We've been looking for you all night, where've you been?"
Sam had been intrigued with this individual since the day they met. The pushing, the bullying... It was all just an excuse to interact with her crush. Since then, the squabbling was more playful, the shoves more gentle. Griffin was right. Sam HAD grown soft. Love had changed her and it was the singular, slithering adversary that she had never put up much of a fight against. It was her kryptonite.
The moon cast its light on the figure above her and its silhouette stood out darkly surrounded by a silver halo. Its shade fell over the blonde as she ascended the stairway. Sam licked her lips. She felt like she could taste it. After all, the shadow was nothing more but an extension of the person itself and she enthralled with this amazing person.
She began running up the stairs at a double pace, so scared that she was about to chicken out like she always did when she had to talk about… ugh… feeeelings. Sam's throat dried out and she felt as though she had swallowed the Sahara desert.
"You wouldn't believe what happened today!" the voice called out to her once more.
Sam finally found herself on the right floor, and the right balcony. Her crush stood four feet away from her. Her knees grew weak and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. "Sam! You look winded… Is something wro-"
Sam rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Carly's slender waist. She pulled the surprised girl against herself and swept her lips up into a deep, desperate kiss, trying to communicate as best as possible how important the brunette was to her. Smoothing her fingers into silky raven hair, Sam held her close and threw all of her emotions onto the table. Carly… if you can read this… you mean the world to me.
Author's Note: Anyone see that coming?
Thank you to mrmuscle, Mixwe, Jackyboy-08, RemDiamond, AliceRulesMyWorld, and Reviewer for reviewing. I'm fairly sure I've alienated about 80% of my readers but I'll explain my decision to include this shipping next chapter.