A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!

BOOK ONE - PART THREE - CHAPTER THIRTY

"I didn't know you could get any more beautiful." Sam was lying beside Cat on a very cramped hospital bed, looking into her eyes. "It was never real enough, when I pictured you all those years."

Cat smiled and blushed. "You're so romantic, Sam."

"No, I'm serious. I mean, back then, you were like… whoa. But now you're like… damn. Y'know what I'm saying?"

Cat giggled. The painkillers had Sam slurring her speech slightly. "No. But I'm glad you didn't stop liking me 'cause I'm all old now."

"Oh, please. You're not even thirty yet," Sam responded. There was a pause, and Sam swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Cat?"

"Sam?" Cat responded in concern, placing her hand on top of her thigh.

"I just… I wanted to say I'm sorry." Sam was clearly still struggling with it. "I should've said it a long time ago." She reconsidered that. "No, I should've never abandoned you like that. It kills me how much I hurt you. I need you to know that."

Sam was tearing up and Cat had to turn away to keep from crying, too. She asked the one question that had been playing on repeat in her head for the past decade. "Then why did you do it? Why did you leave me?"

"I…" Sam took a deep breath. "I was scared. I was developing serious feelings for you, but I wasn't sure you'd be able to handle a real relationship, so I sat on it. And then my birthday happened, and… well, you know the rest."

"Why did you think I couldn't handle it?" Cat asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "I had a crush on you for over a year, Sam. I was just waiting for you to make a move, and you always acted like you would, but you never did. Not until that night."

"I got drunk and couldn't control myself anymore," Sam muttered. "I know it's not an excuse. I just wanted you so bad, and I wasn't thinking. I hated myself for what I did to you. I still do."

Cat sighed. "Sam, you said it yourself. You were drunk. You didn't know what you were doing, and… to be fair, I wasn't fighting it that hard either, so…"

"You screamed at me. And I just kept pushing," Sam said quietly. "I never should've made you endure that. I know how much it hurts."

"Endure it? Sam, I didn't endure anything. You were on top of me for, like, three seconds. You didn't even fully grab my boob. I just screamed 'cause I wasn't expecting it and got scared," Cat explained. "And then you blew it way out of proportion and ruined everything."

Sam looked confused. "I had you pinned down for, like, five minutes. And I was really rough—I touched you for a long time. You were crying."

Cat shook her head. "You pushed me down on the couch and had a quick feel. You're acting like you raped me or something. And I wasn't crying, Sam; you were crying." Sam could hardly believe what she was hearing. Could it really be possible that her drunken memory of the incident was so much different from what she thought? "I… I molested you."

"No," Cat sighed, "You got too excited and lost control. The whole thing was my fault, remember? I was teasing you. I just never expected you to react the way you did, and I got overwhelmed."

Sam was in shock. "I wanted to kill myself for hurting you like that. That's why I left. I didn't trust myself with you anymore. You were better off without me."

Cat scoffed. "Really? Better off? I actually did try to kill myself, Sam. Bet you didn't see that in the tabloids, did you?" She bit her lip when she saw the pained look on Sam's face. It still hurt to hurt her. "You were everything to me, and… you left me."

"You… tried to..?"

"I took an entire bottle of my special vitamins and then drank a bunch of Scotch." Cat swallowed dryly. "I don't remember much about it. Robbie found me naked in the bathroom with throw up all over me, and then I was in the hospital for a week."

There was a lump in Sam's throat. "And that was because of me?"

"I waited two years, and you never came back. I didn't think I could live without you," Cat told her. "I had lots of therapy, and things got better after that. But I never stopped thinking about you."

"Yeah, I heard your song," Sam replied. "That's what convinced me to finally come find you."

"Which one?" Cat asked curiously.

Sam drew her eyebrows together. "There's more than one?"

Cat forced a sad chuckle. "Sam, I've released half a dozen singles about you. One every couple of years. I kept hoping you'd hear them and realize I was still missing you," she explained. "I guess it just took until the tenth year for you to finally hear one."

"It was the new one." Sam was intrigued now. "Can I listen to the other ones?"

"Maybe. At some point," Cat replied with a smile. "I'd really like to perform them for you."

"You mean, like, in person?" Sam grinned, "That would be amazing." She continued looking at her, not saying anything for several seconds.

"What?" Cat chuckled nervously. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you wait for me?"

"What do you mean?" Cat questioned.

"I mean, you're literally a global superstar. You could've had anyone, male or female. So why didn't you?"

"I tried, with Robbie," Cat replied. "And I went on dates and stuff. It just never felt right."

"Like, romantically? Sexually?"

"Yes. Both. Either. I never got that feeling I get when I'm with you." Cat hugged Sam's arm to her chest and snuggled closer into her side. "Did you love any of the other girls you were with?"

"No. There were never any real feelings there. It was always sexual," Sam admitted. "Some of the girls were cool, but… I couldn't make another girl my girlfriend. That was supposed to be you, y'know?"

Cat gave a little hum of contentment. "Is that what I am now? Your girlfriend?"

Sam looked nervous, which Cat thought was extremely cute. "I… I don't… I mean… do you want to be?"

Cat giggled and pecked her on the cheek. "Yes."

"But we have to be careful, right?" Sam asked. "With the public?"

"Well, honestly, I'd rather just break it off with Robbie, but my record label doesn't want me to be a lesbian. They threatened to drop JTC if I come out," Cat told her sadly. "So, yeah, we definitely have to be careful."

"Seriously?" Sam scoffed. "Isn't that, like, discrimination or something?"

"Probably. I don't know; they get away with whatever they want," Cat mumbled. "Does it bother you that I have to pretend to be engaged to Robbie?"

"Well… you guys don't actually do anything, right? I mean, I know you share a bed…"

"The last time me and Robbie had sex was over five years ago," Cat reiterated. "We cuddle sometimes, but never anything more than that." She paused, and then added, "And now that you're here, I don't think I'll be sharing a bed with him anymore. He's been wanting his boyfriend to move in anyway, so it kind of works out."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. It swung open and a nurse walked in. "Hello, Samantha. It's time to adjust your medication," she told her. "How are you feeling?"

Cat didn't get up—she remained pressed into Sam's side on the small bed. She listened to her answering the nurse's questions, and never let go of her arm, daydreaming about all the places they could go and things they could do together. They still had time.