Once the car door closed and the figure disappeared into the base, a heavy sigh filled the quiet space. The engine growled back to life, and the vehicle pulled away from the parking lot. The destination wasn't far, but the drive felt interminable, the weight of what was ahead pressing down harder with every mile.

The bar came into view, looking unchanged, disturbingly ordinary. Parking nearby, the stillness of the scene was jarring, as though the world hadn't been turned upside down just days before.

It was early afternoon, and the place was mostly empty. The few patrons inside were scattered, nursing morning beers, with no real sense of urgency or care. Daniel slipped onto a stool at the bar and glanced around. His heart thumped in his chest, nervous about what he was about to say—nervous about how Melanie would react.

It didn't take long for her to appear. The bartender, tall and confident, came out from the back, wiping her hands on a rag. She froze when her eyes landed on him, then forced a polite, tight smile.

"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice guarded, but professional.

Daniel fumbled for words. "Uh, I'm... actually, I'm Daniel, Captain Carter's friend. You know, Sam Carter? You two met a few nights ago." He saw the tightening of her lips, the slight downturn of her eyes. For a second, the regret was clear.

"I remember," she said, curtly, turning away as though already preparing to brush him off. "What about it?"

"I... I don't know what happened after we left," Daniel said, trailing off, unsure of how to bring up the real reason he was here.

Melanie sighed, clearly frustrated. "Look, we had an amazing evening. I thought she'd call—hell, I was looking forward to it. But she didn't. Not even a message. So, I guess that's just how it goes. I get it, she's military, probably got her reasons. But it still kinda sucks, you know?"

A sharp pang of guilt tore through in his chest for what he was about to tell her. Bravado barely masked the hurt behind her words, the sense of squashed hope lingering under her frustration. She wasn't angry—just disappointed.

"That's actually why I'm here," Daniel finally said, glancing down at the bar. "She... she didn't disappear on you. Sam got into an accident on her way home. A hit-and-run. They left her on the side of the road."

Melanie's face paled instantly. "What?"

Daniel swallowed hard. "She's in the hospital. Memorial Hospital. It was pretty bad. She was in a coma, an artificial one, to help her recover. She woke up just about an hour ago."

Tremors shook Melanie's hand and the glass she had been holding slipped from her grip, shattering on the floor. "Shit," she muttered, but her eyes never left Daniel's face, the shock and fear clear in her wide-eyed stare. "Are you... you're not messing with me, right?"

"No," Daniel assured her quickly. "I wouldn't joke about something like this. Sam … she mentioned you when she woke up, and that's why I thought... I figured she'd want you to know."

Melanie blinked rapidly, processing the information, her lips parted in disbelief. Tears welled in her eyes as she leaned against the bar, her hand clenching the rag tightly.

"How bad is it?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's... pretty bad," Daniel said. He pulled down his glasses, slumping slightly at the memory. The last few days had been awful. "She's got a fractured skull, brain swelling, a shattered arm, broken leg, broken ribs... I mean, she's getting better and the doctor's say that she woke up is a good sign, but it's still touch and go."

Melanie's breath hitched, and she wiped her eyes quickly, her tough exterior crumbling. "God... I had no idea."

His glasses needed a clean, Daniel thought distantly and turned them in his hands to give the bartender a moment to compose herself before slipping them back on. The woman looked down at the bar, biting her lip, then back up at him, her face a mix of concern and hope.

"Can I see her? Can I visit?"

"I'm not sure," Daniel admitted. "She's going to be transferred to the base infirmary as soon as she's stable enough, and once that happens... well, you won't be able to. But for now, she's still at Memorial. You could try."

Melanie's expression shifted, determination settling into her features. "I'll go see her," she said firmly, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for telling me, Daniel. I... I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't known."

"Sam would have wanted you to know. If she said she'd call, she would have. She didn't just disappear on you."

One more time, Melanie wiped at her eyes and pulled her shoulders up, letting out a long, controlled breath as if to ease away from the tears. "Noone can cover my shift tonight, but working in a bar has the benefit of having the mornings off. I'll go visit her tomorrow right away," she said, clearing her throat right after. She looked back at Daniel. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"No problem," Daniel replied, standing up. "I hope she wakes up again soon."

Mel had barely slept the night before. After Daniel had told her about Sam's accident, it was impossible to stop thinking about it. The guilt gnawed at her, making her toss and turn in bed, her thoughts fixated on the tall Air Force captain who had walked into her life so unexpectedly.

She remembered how Sam had looked that night—the way her blonde hair had been slightly messed from the helmet, how her lips had curled into that confident smirk, her laughter so open and genuine. And then the uncertainty and fear after Daniel had appeared, the braced shoulders that had made Mel want to hold her and defend her against the world, even though she knew Sam likely was mentally so much stronger than her. Mel had been hooked immediately. The flirting had come easy, natural, but when they kissed... that had been everything. Slow at first, like a promise, but it quickly deepened, pulling them closer until she couldn't think of anything but Sam. Even now, just thinking about it sent a tingle through her.

Mel had grinned the entire ride home that night, the warmth of Sam's lips lingering against hers. She had fallen asleep thinking of her—her leather jacket, the way she had looked back over her shoulder when she'd put on her helmet, that at times so shy smile that barely computed with the confident grin of other times. Sam was everything she'd never thought she'd have a chance with, and it felt like something more than just a fleeting moment.

The next day, that elation had still been there, riding high in her chest like a wave she couldn't come down from. She'd waited, hopeful. Maybe Sam was busy with her work, but surely she'd call.

But the call never came.

That night, Mel had worked her shift with half her mind on the bar door, waiting, hoping Sam would walk in again. By the second day, the hope had started to dim. She had told herself it wasn't personal. Sam was probably just caught up with whatever important military stuff she did. But after the third day, something in Mel broke. She had spent that evening behind the bar, having given up her day off when someone called in sick; her fingers tapping idly on the counter, waiting. By the time her shift had ended, she had given up on the idea of Sam coming back. She'd felt stupid for believing there had been something real between them.

But then today, Daniel had walked in and shattered all those thoughts. Sam hadn't disappeared on her. Not on purpose. She'd been run over that very same night. Fighting for her life in the hospital.

Now, as Mel drove towards Colorado Springs, she felt a heavy weight settle in her stomach. Sam might still die, and Mel had spent the last week feeling hurt over something Sam had no control over.

She clenched the steering wheel tighter, trying to push away the rising sense of guilt.

When she spotted tire marks on the side of the road, her breath caught in her throat. Without thinking, she pulled over, the tires of her truck crunching on the gravel as she parked. She got out, her boots hitting the dirt, and slowly walked toward the disturbance. The earth was churned up, as if something heavy had been dragged or thrown here. Her eyes caught on a small, bent piece of metal, partially buried in the ground. It looked like it had once been part of a bike. Sam's bike. The one she'd been so proud of.

Mel had watched the woman drive in her rearview mirror. Sam had been fast but controlled. Careful. She didn't seek the thrill in dangerous curves but had slowed instead, falling behind at times. Damn it, she had made Mel slow down to drive more safely.

Her chest tightened, and she felt sick to her stomach. This was real. Daniel hadn't lied. Sam really had been in an accident.

Mel swallowed hard, bending down to pick up the piece of metal. She turned it over in her hand, feeling the jagged edge. It was cold and sharp against her skin, and the weight of it was suffocating.

Sam had been lying here, broken and alone, and Mel had spent the last week thinking she hadn't called because she didn't care.

She tossed the metal aside and hurried back to her truck, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the keys. The guilt was overwhelming now, pressing down on her chest like a vise. She had to get to the hospital. She didn't care if they wouldn't let her see Sam—she had to try. She had to make sure Sam knew she hadn't given up on her.

The drive felt like it took forever. When she finally arrived, Mel parked and got out, glancing around nervously. Automatic doors opened up before her and warmth greeted her with the distinct antiseptic and slightly musty smell of hospital. In response, her stomach coiled. Hospitals were aweful places in her experience. Every time she entered one she could not help think of the endless months her father had spent in them as he slowly died.

Shaking her head, Melanie searched for the front desk and hurried towards it. No point in lingerin in old thoughts when she was on her own mission—she needed to see Sam.

When she reached the front desk, her heart was pounding in her chest. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up as Mel approached, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her computer.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked in a bored tone.

Mel swallowed, her voice catching in her throat. "Yeah, uh... I'm here to see Captain Samantha Carter. I'm a family friend."

The receptionist's fingers paused for a moment before she looked up

After some back-and-forth, the receptionist relented and allowed her to visit Sam. She was given instructions on what floor to go to, and with a wave of nerves, she stepped into the elevator, her heart racing with each passing floor. She barely registered the nurse's comments as she was handed a gown at the door, something about how it wasn't often that patients had this many visitors in one day.

The nurse had said that Sam was doing better, but Mel could barely hear anything past the pounding of her own heartbeat.

Slipping on the gown, she fumbled with the hand disinfectant, her hands shaking. She felt like she was walking in a fog, her feet heavy as she was led to Sam's room. The door creaked slightly as Mel pushed it open, and her breath hitched as she finally saw her.

It was all real. Small, pale, and fragile, Sam looked nothing like the confident, radiant woman she had met just a few days ago. The woman who had laughed and flirted with her, who had pulled her in for a kiss that left Mel breathless. Only her chest rose with shallow breaths, her face framed by bandages, her body attached to tubes and wires. It was surreal.

For a long moment, Mel just stood there, unsure of what to do or say. She finally swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped closer to the bed, her voice soft and hesitant.

"Hi, Sam," she whispered, offering a shaky smile. "I know you probably wanted to call... but, you know, given the circumstances, I thought I'd just stop by for a visit instead."

Her words felt hollow, but she didn't know what else to say. It was strange, speaking to someone who couldn't respond. After a pause, she reached out and gently took Sam's hand. The warmth of her skin was a relief, irrevocable proof that Sam was alive beyond the lines on the monitor. It was a small comfort, but it grounded her in that moment.

Mel slid her hand up, fingers trailing over the soft skin of Sam's forearm before they moved around her elbow. The same way she'd done in the bar. Then, she'd felt the other woman shiver and lean in, a soft tremble in her muscles as Mel had leaned forward to brush her lips against her jaw. She remembered the way Sam's eyes had dilated, wide attention and desire in blown pupils, barely lit in the dim corner of the bar. Asking Sam if Mel could kiss her. Her whispered 'Please'.

Now, there was nothing. Mel wet her lips, blinking against the burning in her eyes. Her fingers tightened around Sam's elbow but Sam didn't react. Her lids still closed, she continued to sleep.

"Shit," Mel cursed when her tears started to flow over. She turned her head away, blinking against the ceiling, pressing out air through her lips. Always so emotional, she cursed herself, admonishing herself to stop this. Crying had always been her weakness and the sting in her throat swelled. But she couldn't stop it. Not when everything inside her wanted to lean forward and kiss Sam, to make her wake up. Of course she knew she couldn't. Not only because Sam still lay unconscious but even if she'd been awake, Mel could only suspect at the amount of painkillers currently clouding her mind. No, Mel would never do that.

And yet, she couldn't let go of her arm.

"Get a grip, Melanie," she told herself, sniffing and running her free hand over her cheeks. She cleared her throat, biting her lip. It wasn't fair of her to cry, to act so emotional when she barely knew this amazing woman fighting for her life. Mel knew how manipulative tears could be and she was trying not to fall into old patterns. If Sam woke, this shouldn't be what she saw. Because then she would never want to go on another date with Mel and selfish as it was, Mel wanted that. Mel wanted for Sam to wake up and to call her. To talk, just like they had in the bar. Not just the easy, lighthearted things, but to have a conversation, one about everything, the one that felt so real and true. Sam deserved better than the mess that tears turned Mel into. Even though Sam couldn't see her now, couldn't judge her, Mel still fought the storm within her, terrified that even unconscious, Sam might sense her flaw.

Slowly, Mel managed to calm down. Her chest still shook and felt tight, and she wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks before looking back down. Pale as she was, even now Sam looked gorgeous. In a tragic, painful way. Like a painting and Mel would give anything to see her blue eyes open and for that delicious smile.

"You have to pull through this, Sam. You owe me a call, you know? And next time you stop by the bar, drinks are on me. Hell, I'll pay for your food too. I just want to get to talk to you again." Her thumb moved, stroking gently against the soft skin in the crook of Sam's elbow.

Suddenly, the door creaked open again, and Mel yanked her hand back, bursting to her feet. She cleared her throat and stepped back. A man froze in the door, looking at her. Beneath his paper gown, he wore a red checkered shirt and dark trousers. Definitely not a doctor or a nurse. After his initial surprise, the man smiled tiredly and stepped in.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm but curious. "Are you here to visit Sam too?"

Mel nodded quickly, trying to compose herself. "Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "I … We're … childhood friends. We lived next to each other when we were kids."

The man raised an eyebrow at that, and he grinned slowly. He extended a hand.

"Is that so? Well, I'm Mark, Sam's older brother."

Heat rose up in Mel's cheeks and her mind scrambled for a response. Now that she looked at him, Mel could see the family resemblance. Same blue eyes, same nose, even the grin was similar. Damn it.

There was no way he believed her lie. Even her cheeks still felt puffy. Mark didn't seem angry, though—just amused.

"So," he said, leaning against the wall, "how long have you known Sam?"

There was no point in keeping up the charade. "I only met her a few days ago," she admitted, her face burning with embarrassment.

Mark nodded, his expression softening. "Are you two... close?"

Heat flushed Mel's chest and she shifted from one leg to the other. Did Mark know? Sam had told her she hadn't found out that part of herself until her mid-twenties and had spent years after trying to deny it. How likely was it she'd shared that part of herself with her brother? Mel had no idea what kind of relationship the two siblings had. Without intending to, her fingers twisted in front of her and she forced herself to drop her hands to her sides.

"Not really," she said, balancing her words. "But when I heard she was in the hospital, I wanted to come. It just... doesn't feel right, you know? Someone in the military, someone like her, getting hurt like this... It's not fair."

Mark's face sobered at that, his expression growing serious. He stepped closer to the bed, looking down at his sister, the weight of the situation heavy in the air.

Again, Mel swallowed, feeling a little more at ease but still nervous. "My brothers are in the military too," she said quietly. "Well, one is. The other... he got dishonorably discharged a few years back. He's gay."

A huff and Mark muttered something under his breath that Mel didn't quite catch. He shook his head, the frustration evident on his face. "It's ridiculous," he said. "Asking people to fight and die for this country and then telling them they can't be who they are? It's just not right."

Relief flickered up at that, and Mel's shoulders sagged. Mark caught her reaction and smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

"I know," he said quietly. "About Sam, I mean. Of course I do—she's my little sister. I think I knew before she did. And even with her being military, I swear, if anyone ever hurts her for who she is..." He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. He looked back at Sam, his shoulders slumping a little. "I'd punch their damn lights out."

The words made Mel smile, but it was a sad, bittersweet smile. She watched as Mark sat down beside his sister, his hand gently brushing over hers, his focus entirely on Sam now. Mel stood quietly for a moment, unsure if she should stay or go.

Finally, she cleared her throat softly. "I'll... I'll let you have some time with her," she said gently, taking a step back. Mark nodded, but he didn't look up, his attention still on Sam.

As Mel turned to leave, her heart felt heavy. She had wanted to see Sam, to make sure she was okay, but now that she had, she wasn't sure what to do next. The thought of Sam lying there, fragile and broken, haunted her as she walked out of the room and back into the hallway.

Please review!

Bonus chapter this week! Couldn't let you wait for too long to read this. What do you all think? I love Mel so much :)