Changes

Title: Changes

Author: Aeryn Sun

Email: willowrose_98@yahoo.com

Feedback: Yes, please

Archiving: Ask, and ye shall receive. Just ask first.

Rating: R, I guess. For language and angst.

Spoilers: Any episode is fair game, I guess.

Series/Universe: Secrets.

Summary: Sam sees that Brooke is hurting too. But things get worse.

Couple: Sam/Brooke...maybe

Warning: If the idea of two women involved in a romantic relationship together disturbs you, run, run far far away and never look back. If it's illegal where you live, move quickly. Too young? Age quicker, it's fun here. Other than that, enter at your own risk, and enjoy.

Author's Notes: ???

Disclaimer: Not mine, they used to belong to Touchstone but who the heck knows now? Not making any profit otherwise I wouldn't be working at Wal-Mart.

Part Nine

They settled into a somewhat comfortable pattern after that for the next week or so. They were back to sleeping in the same bed again and Brooke was relieved to notice that Sam's nightmares had tapered off some while she was there. Sam was actually getting some restful sleep and while she wasn't back to her old self, she wasn't pulling away as much anymore. Jane and Mike noticed as well and had backed away from pressuring Brooke about medicating Sam.

Brooke had done some research about the effects of mood altering prescription drugs and had to admit that they did hold some merit. But she really wanted Sam to come through this without using them. Sam wanted the same thing. But unknown to Brooke, she was still using alcohol occasionally when the walls pressed too close for her comfort. She felt bad about that and wanted to tell Brooke but was afraid to disappoint her. Knowing that she had disappointed Brooke or let her down in some way would crush Sam and she knew it.

So she stood in the doorway to Brooke's room quietly watching the blonde sleep. She had gone out shopping with her mother and had gotten back late. She didn't want to wake Brooke simply to crawl into bed with her so she stood in the door watching. She thought Brooke was the most breathtaking thing she'd ever seen. Her blonde hair was splayed across the pillow behind her head like a shining halo in the moonlight streaming in from the window. Her full lips were slightly parted as she breathed evenly and Sam was captivated by the sleeping innocence. She looked like an angel to her.

She lost track of how long she stood there, thinking of how much Brooke had done for her until the blonde finally stirred. But she didn't wake up. She murmured something incoherent and turned her head towards where Sam stood and frowned. The frown deepened and she grew aggravated. She whimpered and tossed her head from side to side, lost in the grip of what was obviously a nightmare.

"No... no Sam...don't leave..." Brooke cried pitifully. "Don't die," she pleaded as tears started to stream down her sleeping face. "George...leave her...alone...please...oh God no..." a harsh sob was ripped from Brooke's throat.

Sam realized with a twisted feeling in her stomach that made her sick that Brooke was reliving the day George had nearly killed her. She knew that on some level that Brooke had to live with seeing the images from that day and the memory of having to revive her, but it never occurred to Sam that it might haunt the gentle blonde when no one was looking.

<I'm such an ass> Sam realized angry with herself for missing Brooke's pain. <Oh, Brooke, I'm so sorry>

She walked quietly over to the bed as Brooke continued to grow more alarmed and cried out again.

"Don't be dead, Sammy...oh God no, I can't...I love you...don't leave me." The last was said as a whisper as Sam reached the bed and knelt down so that she could peer into Brooke's tearstained face.

"You promised that you wouldn't leave me," she whispered to the slumbering girl. "And I promise the same thing." She brushed some sweat-dampened hair off of Brooke's forehead and leaned closer as Brooke whimpered again.

"Sshhh, Brooke, wake up. It's safe, I'm right here," she coaxed the girl.

"Sammy?" Brooke mumbled as her hazel eyes opened and fuzzily focused on Sam's chocolate ones. She reached up and wiped at her eyes. "Was I crying?" Sam nodded.

"Yeah, baby, you were having a nightmare," Sam explained quietly.

"Oh," Brooke said. "Yeah, I remember now. George," she sighed, running her hand through her hair.

"I heard," Sam said. She hung her head and let her hair frame her face, unable to meet Brooke's gaze any longer. "I am SO sorry, Brooke," she whispered.

"Whatever for, Sammy?" Brooke asked, tipping Sam's face up with her finger under the brunette's chin. The remorse and pain filling those eyes hurt Brooke to look at.

"I'm sorry that you're being hurt by this too. It's all my fault. I didn't realize," Sam started to explain. Brooke sighed.

"Aw, Sammy, stop blaming yourself, please?" she asked. She patted the bed beside her. "Come on, get in," she smiled, pulling the covers back. Sam returned the smile slightly and climbed in beside her. Brooke stroked Sam's cheek with the back of her hand.

"None of this is your fault. Not what George did to you, not the nightmares or any of it. It's all George's. You need to realize and accept that or you'll never heal, Sam. And I want you to heal; I want us to heal. Together."

"I know, Brooke, but it's so hard," Sam admitted. "It hurts in here," she pointed to her chest where her heart was, "so bad. And I'm so scared." A few tears raced down her face as she confessed her 'weakness' to Brooke.

"What are you afraid of, Sam?" Brooke asked, wiping the tears from Sam's face.

"George, the memory of what he did. It literally hurts to think about. I can almost still feel the bruises and breaks..."

"Oh, Sammy," Brooke breathed in sympathy.

"And I'm afraid that it can happen again. That if I let my guard down I'll get hurt again." She saw Brooke open her mouth to protest and pressed her fingers against the other girl's lips to silence her. "Not by you, never by you. I see that now. No, but by anyone else. If I go out there," she looked towards the window, "I might get hurt. And I won't survive it again."

"Sam..."

"Wait, let me finish," Sam pleaded, looking deeply into Brooke's caring eyes. "And I'm afraid of you. I'm afraid of what you feel for me. Of what I might...I might feel for you if I let myself. It scares me, Brooke. It's so much that I can't handle it. So I don't want to feel anything. I'm safe that way." Brooke tried in vain to stop the tears from falling down her face as Sam spoke.

"I'm sorry, Brooke, I didn't mean to make you cry," Sam apologized sadly. "God, all I ever seem to do is hurt you."

Brooke shook her head. "No, Sam. You haven't hurt me. I'm just sad that you feel that way. Closing yourself off to ever feeling anything ever again isn't the way to live. It isn't even living. And it's letting George win, ultimately. He tried so hard to break you and by shutting yourself off, closing yourself away from everything and anyone is defeating your spirit. I don't want to see that, Sammy. I love your spirit," she said softly.

"I don't want him to win, but I don't know what else to do, Brooke. I'm terrified," Sam confessed quietly. Brooke wrapped her arms around the other girl and pulled her close.

"Well, you've told me how you really feel, Sam. You've admitted that you're scared. It's a start. We'll figure it out from there, together. I promise."

PUNCH
PUNCH
KICK
PUNCH
SWERVE
KICK

Brooke continued with her 'routine' in the basement with her new punching bag. She'd gone out and bought one of those heavy ones that hang from the ceiling to work out her own aggression and hopefully, give Sam an outlet as well. She liked to imagine George's face on the bag and pretended to pummel the living daylights out of the jerk with her gloved fists. It helped to alleviate some of her feelings of helplessness in dealing with Sam's issues and her anger at George over what he'd done.

"You son of a bitch," she growled at the punching bag. "I'm going to make you bleed."

LEFT
RIGHT
LEFT
RIGHT
RIGHT
KICK
PUNCH
KICK

"I hate you," she hissed in between hits to the bag. "You deserve to die!" Her punches and kicks were frenzied, no longer measured and thought out, she was merely striking out at the bag blindly in rage. Grunts and screams were unconsciously coming from her mouth as she exhausted herself.

Every word of Sam's quiet confession played through her head as she exercised. Every fear, every tear was recorded in perfect clarity to haunt Brooke along with every physical injury George had done to the gentle brunette. Brooke had never felt such rage towards someone before like she did with George and she knew she had to get a handle on it for her sake and Sam's. The last thing Sam needed was to see that sort of anger from someone she was supposed to see as 'safe' to her.

"Brooke?" Sam called quietly from the staircase, drawn by the noise. She watched as Brooke beat the tar out of the bag and whipped herself into a state. The blonde was covered in sweat, red faced and panting. She stopped her actions and turned to face Sam.

"Yeah?" she panted.

Sam frowned. "You OK? I could hear you screaming all the way upstairs," she explained.

Brooke shrugged. "I'm fine. Just exercising, working on some, 'issues'," she punched the bag to drive that last point home.

"Ah, I see," Sam said, clearly not convinced. "OK, don't hurt yourself." She turned to head back up the stairs.

"Want to give it a go, Sam?" Brooke asked, pointing at the bag. Sam looked from the bag to Brooke and then back again shaking her head.

"No thanks. Knock yourself out though, figuratively speaking, of course," she responded. Brooke watched her head back up the stairs.

"Are you all right, Sammy?" she asked softly. Sam stopped but didn't turn around.

"I'm…fine, Brooke. I'm going to go take a nap," she said.

"Sam, it's four o'clock in the afternoon," Brooke pointed out gently. Sam shrugged her shoulders.

"And I'm tired, Brooke. My head hurts too," she added as an after thought.

"All right, Sammy. I'll check up on you after I shower, OK?" She watched Sam nod and then continue up the stairs.

"Whatever floats your boat," Sam sighed.

Sitting on her bed, Sam stared at both the bottle that was quickly becoming an 'issue' and the letter opener. Both were sharp in their own respective ways and she was torn between which one she was more interested in.

<I should just go talk to Brooke> she told herself.

{But she doesn't want to hear the same things over and over again} her other inner voice told her. Sam frowned.

<She'll get mad if I do something stupid> she reminded herself.

{Do you honestly think she cares that much? Please. You're fooling yourself if you think it matters that much to her either way}

<She says she loves me> Sam countered as confused and lonely tears streaked down her face.

{So? George said the same thing. And he almost killed you. That's what love is Sam, PAIN. And you're not strong enough to handle it. You don't deserve any good that might come with it. And Brooke will find someone else. So go ahead, take a drink, make a cut. Brooke won't care in the long run}

"SHUT UP!" she screamed, placing her hands against her ears in a vain attempt to silence the voice.

{You know what else, Sam? George WILL get away with it. And he'll be back to finish the job. What are you going to do then? Run and hide or face him?}

"ARGH!" she cried the mere thought of facing George again sending her heart into overdrive and adrenaline pumping through her veins. She felt trapped and scared. She grabbed the bottle off the bed, twisting the cap off with a violent jerk and swallowed as much as she could before her gag reflex forced her to stop. Coughing, she flung the bottle across the room hearing it shatter as it hit her dresser.

Her head spun as the alcohol hit her system a little while later. She sat down with a thump on the bed and idly started playing with the letter opener.

<At least that pesky other voice shut up> she sighed, tracing the veins in her forearm with the tip of the blade. <I'm starting to feel like a schizophrenic with that other voice. I mean, I know I'm not and it's just my fears getting the better of me, but still. It's annoying>

"Ow, shit!" she hissed as the blade slipped and bit into her wrist. In her hazy state, she watched the blood trickle out of the cut in fascination. She barely heard the door slam into the wall.

"SAM?" Brooke's shocked and scared voice cut into her fugue state and she looked up into the blonde's frightened face.

"Huh?" she asked drowsily. The alcohol was getting to her so she really could have cared less about anything.

"Oh Sammy, what have you done?"

Part Ten

“Aw, Sammy, sixteen stitches,” Brooke sighed as she tucked Sam into her bed later that evening. Upon seeing what Sam had done to herself, she’d immediately sped Sam to the medical center for help. Telling the staff there that Sam was indeed drunk because they’d been having fun at home but slipped and put her arm through a window to explain the cut, she was relieved that they seemed to buy it. She wasn’t sure what she was going to tell their parents though. And they were bound to notice.

She crawled into the bed beside Sam placing Sam’s injured arm across her chest and staring at the stark white bandage. Sam had bled through one before they left the hospital but seemed to have stopped bleeding now. The amount of blood she’d lost scared Brooke and left Sam weak but she refused to stay in the hospital. Since Brooke again lied about their ages, they’d been let go without an argument.

<I should have taken her to the hospital that treated her for her injuries after George attacked her that last time. Then she would have HAD to stay because they would have known her> she berated herself for giving in to Sam’s desire to go some place else. Although she’d been drunk and bleeding, Sam was her usual stubborn self, refusing help unless it was on her terms. Brooke hated giving in but she knew Sam needed stitches.

“Sammy, why do you keep doing things like this?” she asked rhetorically, knowing that there was no clear answer even if Sam had been awake. She could only ever recall being more scared one other time than when she walked in and saw the blood covering Sam. And that was when she saw George trying to kill Sam.

When she opened the bedroom door and saw Sam staring at the blood running down her arm onto the sheets in silence, her heart stopped, much like it had that day at the newspaper office. The all-encompassing fear that Sam was dying filled her and made her sick to her stomach. To see Sam’s blood, the thing that kept her alive spilling out like so much water was a visceral reminder of how fragile Sam’s life was. And apparently how lightly Sam took that responsibility.

She’d wrapped Sam’s arm in a thick towel and scolded the groggy girl, unsure if it was the loss of blood making Sam loopy or the alcohol Brooke could so clearly smell on her breath. Sam’s eyes were red and blank as she stared at Brooke in a state of confusion, not understanding why the blonde was so frantic.

<<<”It’s jus’ a scratch, Brooke. Calm down,” Sam slurred, leaning against Brooke and yawning. Brooke shook her head fighting back panicked tears.

“It is NOT a scratch, Sam. You’re bleeding all over the place and the cut is long and deep. What were you thinking?” Sam shrugged one shoulder.

“I dunno. It slipped,” she said quietly. Brooke tightened the towel around Sam’s wrist. “I din’ mean to.”

“Why were you drinking, baby?” Brooke asked as she looped one arm around Sam’s waist and hauled the weakened girl to her feet.

“I had ta make it stop,” Sam whispered. Brooke looked at her in confusion as she helped Sam to the bedroom door.

“Make what stop, Sammy?” Sam looked at her; hurt, confusion, and fear coloring her deep brown eyes.

“All of it. Make it all stop. Please,” she begged barely audible. Tears then spilled down both their faces as Brooke dragged her to the car.>>>

“I want to help, Sammy, but you’re not making it easy,” she whispered to the sleeping form beside her. Sam was on her side snuggled up next to Brooke, her nose up against the blonde’s shoulder. Between the alcohol and blood loss Sam was asleep by the time Brooke left the hospital parking lot. Brooke wasn’t so lucky.

She was wired, worried about what she was going to do about Sam, what she was going to tell their parents and what was going to happen next. Sleep was a long time in coming for her.

“Brooke, this has gone too far. You can’t help her, none of us can. It’s time to seriously consider medication,” Mike argued with his highly irate daughter the next afternoon. She’d tried to lie her way out of Sam’s injury but with no success. Now Jane and Mike were insisting that Sam return to therapy and get the proper medication. This wouldn’t have annoyed Brooke so much if Sam had actually been in the room when this decision was made.

“God, Dad, at least talk to her. Ask her what SHE wants,” Brooke suggested, frustrated. She thought it highly unfair to decide someone else’s life around them while they lay hung over upstairs and in pain.

“Brooke, honey, we tried that. She won’t cooperate,” Jane pointed out. “And now this? She’s drinking too much and the whole wrist thing. What if you hadn’t been here? What then?”

Brooke had to admit Jane had a point. The only reason Sam wasn’t dead was because she was home with her and found her in time. Sam had thought the cut was only a ‘scratch’ not a deep wound needing stitches. It would not have been pleasant to come home and find her that way. Brooke shuddered at the thought.

“But you don’t understand. How can she work through her pain and issues if she’s all drugged out?” Brooke countered.

“Brooke, the medication, if done correctly, won’t turn her into a zombie. That’s a misconception. If done right, it’ll clear her head so that she CAN work through the things that are cluttering it up and confusing her, the things that are hurting her,” Mike explained patiently. “You have to at least give them a chance.”

“But I don’t want to. I’m starting to get through to her, I swear I am…” Brooke tried to argue. Jane shook her head.

“Brooke, she almost died yesterday. We gave you both a chance to do this on your own. You didn’t fail, you did your best. Now it’s time to try something else for her.”

“How about you ask HER what she wants?” Sam growled from the bottom of the stairs, holding herself upright on the rail as she was still feeling weak.

“Sammy…” Brooke breathed, not liking the angry look on Sam’s face or the paleness of her features. Sam’s expression softened for a moment as she looked at the blonde but hardened again as she looked at her parents.

“Sam,” Jane started.

“Shut up, Mom, I don’t want to hear it,” Sam snapped, cutting her off. Jane and Mike stared at her in shock. “I’ve been listening and you have no idea what’s going on with me. Yeah, maybe medication would do me some good, but they’re not what I want. I have nothing against them, they work for a lot of people. But I won’t take them.”

“Sam, it might be good for you…”

“Mike, if I want your opinion, I’ll ask,” she cut her stepfather off. “I know that drinking to forget my pain is wrong. If nothing else this,” she held up her bandaged arm, “has taught me that much. I know I could have died yesterday. Now that my head is clearer, I can see that I hurt myself pretty badly. And yet again, I owe Brooke my life.” She looked at Brooke and spared her a small smile.

“Thank you, Brooke,” she said genuinely thankful. Brooke smiled back.

“You’re welcome, Sammy. Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she ordered. Sam shook her head.

“I won’t. Contrary to what you may think, I don’t want to die. Not anymore at least. I may not know how I’m going to live, but I don’t want to die, either.”

“That’s great to hear, Sam. But where do we go from here?” Mike asked. Sam glared at him.

“Stop acting so self-righteous,” she hissed. “I refuse medication, I think I’ve made that clear. I’m nearly 18 anyway so it’s my decision. I can do this if I just keep my head on straight.” She looked pointedly at Brooke.

“Will you help me? I know I’ve been an ass, Brooke, but…I need you,” she finished in a small voice. Brooke beamed, knowing that Sam had just taken a very large step towards healing by asking for help. She walked over and engulfed Sam in a tight hug.

“I’m here for you, Sammy. Always.”

“Here, Sam, let me help you with that,” Brooke said as she watched Sam try to change the bandage on her wrist later that day. There were dark circles under Sam’s eyes and she was horribly pale and quiet. She nodded silently and held her wrist out to Brooke.

“You OK?” she asked Sam, knowing that Sam was anything but OK at the moment. Sam seemed to think for a minute before nodding.

“Yeah, I’m…fine. Just…thinking,” Sam responded absently.

“About what?” Brooke prompted as she gently applied ointment to Sam’s sutures. Sam watched her quietly.

“I almost died…” she whispered. “Again.” Brooke nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she agreed letting Sam do the talking.

“It would have been my fault this time. George wasn’t even there. I was the one holding the blade. It was my choice to drink that much and then play with the letter opener. There would have been no one for you to hate for it but me,” she said wounded. Brooke looked up from her ministrations to see Sam silently crying.

“Is that what really bothers you, Sam? Worry that I would hate you?” she asked a little shocked. Sam nodded but said nothing.

“Aw, Sammy, I’m never going to hate you. Why won’t you believe that?” Sam shrugged.

“But I would have died at my own hand and hurt you…if you even cared,” she added in a whisper.

“I would have more than cared, Sammy,” Brooke said forcefully. “I would have been devastated. I love you, I wish you’d believe that, FEEL that and find comfort in it. It hurts sometimes that you don’t believe me,” she said honestly.

“I believe you, Brooke. I just don’t understand why sometimes. I mean, look at how I keep screwing up.” Brooke finished dressing Sam’s arm and leaned back.

“Are you in pain, Sam? Emotional and physical?” Brooke asked. Sam nodded. “Are you acting out because you don’t know what else to do?” Again Sam nodded. “Sammy, you’re not screwing up. You’re trying to figure things out. I don’t fault you for that. Yesterday was an extreme that I hope you never reach again. But I don’t hate you for it or hold it against you. I want to help you and you’ve asked me to. How about from now on we help each other, OK? No more drinking for you or playing with sharp objects?” she said lightly earning a small shy smile from Sam. “And I’ll get a handle on my anger at George. Deal?”

“OK,” Sam agreed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I love you,” Brooke repeated.

“I know.”

Part Eleven

Author's Notes: OK, before you think I've got a mad on against medication, try to remember that I'm heavily medicated for `mental quirks'. LOL

THANK YOU: to Balti for the much needed help and advice getting through this section. That writer's block was horrible. You rock!

~~~~~

Under Brooke's watchful eye, Sam poured her hidden stashes of alcohol down the kitchen drain. She'd offered to do it, without prodding and Brooke was more than happy to be there when she did. It was a small but important step. Mike and Jane had gotten rid of their liquor cabinet so that it wouldn't tempt Sam in the slightest. They were still trying to convince the girls to consider medication for Sam but Sam staunchly refused. She was determined to do it on her own, or at least, with only Brooke and not pills to help.

"There, all gone," Brooke chirped. Sam arched an eyebrow at her as the last of the whiskey circled the steel drain. She handed the blonde the empty bottle and watched as Brooke tossed it into the recycle bin. The `clink' as it hit the other bottles made her wince.

"Yip-pee," Sam said dryly with a roll of her eyes. She leaned against the sink and sighed heavily. Brooke moved closer and brushed some of Sam's hair away from her cheek as she stood in front of her.

"It'll get better, Sammy. We just have to take it slow," she reassured the cagey brunette. Sam looked up and locked her brown eyes with Brooke's hazel ones.

"I know. I just…I want things to be the way they used to be," she confessed softly. "You know? Before George and everything." She wrapped her arms around herself, almost like she was seeking to protect herself from the reality that now surrounded her. She looked away from Brooke and down at the floor between them.

"Hey, look at me, Sam," Brooke urged, tilting Sam's down-turned face up to meet her own. "I know you wish this whole thing never happened. So do I. I wish you never experienced such pain and agony, Sam. It never should have happened. But it did. And now we have to find a way to focus past it and work on putting you back together."

"A big old `Humpty Dumpty', eh?" Sam smirked slightly. Brooke giggled.

"No, cuz he couldn't be put back together again. You can. I'll see to it Sam," Brooke vowed. "I want to see you happy and whole again. As long as it takes, Sammy." Sam stared at her quietly for a few minutes and Brooke was content to stare back, watching the girl watch her.

"Why? After everything I've said and done, what have I done to deserve your loyalty and caring?" Sam asked bewildered. Brooke smiled widely.

"You're Sam. I don't need any other reason," she said simply.

"And you love me," Sam stated. Brooke nodded.

"Yes," she responded. Sam frowned. "What is it, Sam?" she wondered concerned.

"I miss…I miss the way we were, for a little while," she said quietly. Brooke's heart leapt with joy. "I felt so…safe. And loved."

Brooke understood how hard it was for Sam to make such an admission. It left the brunette dangerously vulnerable and Sam hated being that way. Brooke leaned a little closer, hoping to drive her next point home.

"You are," she whispered, stressing the last word with all her conviction and confidence. "You will always be both of those things with me."

Sam unwrapped her arms from around herself and extended them around Brooke's slim waist. The taller girl leaned into the welcome embrace. She missed the feel of Sam's arms around her. Sam laid her head against Brooke's chest as Brooke's arms went around her own waist.

"Reality sucks," Sam murmured against the blonde's t-shirt.

"Yeah, but this reality is nice," Brooke answered. She felt Sam nod.

"It is," Sam sighed. They stood like that for a few minutes until Sam lifted her head and lightly kissed Brooke on the lips. Brooke's eyes widened in surprise as she regarded Sam.

"Sam…" she started, dreading a replay of that night Sam `came on to her' but also knowing it still wasn't the right time to further their relationship. She was surprised to see a wry grin creep its way across Sam's face.

"I don't want anything else right now, Brooke. I just wanted to kiss you, feel that reassurance again. That's all." There was a hint of a snicker in Sam's voice that Brooke had sorely missed.

"Oh well in that case…thank you," Brooke grinned

Sam lay next to Brooke, listening to the blonde's even breathing as she slept. Tonight, like too many nights in her opinion, sleep was evasive to her. Some nights she was able to sleep, feeling comforted by Brooke's warm presence nearby. But other times the darkness outside only mirrored the darkness and confusion she felt inside.

<God, I have to figure this out> she sighed, throwing an arm up over her head in silent frustration. <When the Hell did I get so screwed up?>

If she pictured herself a year ago, Sam saw herself as a self-confident, even cocky teenage girl. She knew up from down; left from right and good from evil. Now, evil had come to her bearing a friendly face and she wasn't sure which end was up anymore. She felt like she was drowning in her self-doubt and confusion, two elements that would have been alien to the old Sam.

<This bites> She gritted her teeth against her growing anger. Casting a forlorn look at the innocently sleeping blonde beside her, Sam slipped out of bed and padded her way to the basement.

<I'd give anything for some of that whiskey I dumped down that sink today> She scolded herself for the thought as soon as it formed. <Swift, McPherson. Piss Brooke off, why don't you?> She sighed. <Still, at least it would help me sleep>

She inspected Brooke's punching bag, hanging dormant from the ceiling with renewed interest. She didn't come down here often. It seemed like Brooke's place, her own private area where she could battle her own demons and Sam was reluctant to invade that. But still, for some reason, she was drawn to it tonight.

<She's beaten a good patch into it> she observed. She walked around it, observing the dents and curves Brooke had worn into the material in a relatively short span of time.

<God, she's so angry> Sam realized. It hurt her to think that Brooke was carrying such a burden of anger and frustration.

"All because of me," she whispered out loud. "It's not right."

She spied Brooke's boxing gloves sitting idly on a nearby table and slipped them on.

"Might as well take a whack. See what all the fuss is about," she muttered. She gave it a few half-hearted punches getting nothing from it other than a not terribly pleasant stinging sensation in her hands. But that quickly began to fade as the `thwack' filled her ears. Suddenly, it was becoming oddly satisfying to hear that solid sound.

Then, she started to hear George, taunting her.

<<<'Is that the best you can do, McPherson?'>>> he laughed at her. <<<'You're a pathetic weakling!'>>>

THWACK

<<<'Oh come on, I barely felt that!'>>>

WHUMPH

Then his taunts turned to threats.

<<<'You know I'm going to get out eventually. Then I'm coming for you Sammmmmmmmy…'>>> his voice turned singsong as he said her name. <<<'I'll come for you and that bitch McQueen.'>>>

BAM

"Asshole…" she grunted as tears streamed unchecked down her face.

<<<'I'll mess her up real good, Sammmmmy…while you watch. Remember that? I told you I was going to do that. And I always keep my word.>>>

"Damn you…damn you to Hell!" she screamed as she pounded on the bag until her hands went numb. She then fell to her knees; curling into a ball and clutching herself desperately as deep wracking sobs were ripped from deep inside her. She felt like she was being torn inside out and her head pounded with unbearable pain as she cried.

"Why? What did I do?" she wailed. She beat at the floor as helplessness filled her veins. The raw pain and hurt in her chest made her nauseous and she fought not to vomit on the basement floor. She trembled and cried, unaware of anything else until a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her. She instinctively started to pull away in panic, unable to see who was there.

"Shhh, Sammy," she heard Brooke's voice from far away and sank into it, letting it wash over her and calm her.

"Brooke…" she cried pitifully, clinging to the lanky blonde. Brooke held her tight and brushed some of her dampened hair away from her face.

"Shh, I'm right here," Brooke soothed. "I woke up and you were gone," she continued, letting the low timber of her voice soothe Sam. "I panicked when you weren't there. So I got up and started looking for you. Then I heard noises down here."

Sam had twisted in Brooke's arms so that she was pressed up tightly against the cheerleader's chest. Her hot tears burned through the thin cotton of Brooke's nightshirt, driving home the fact that the brunette was distraught. She hiccuped and gasped in Brooke's arms as hyperventilation set in.

"Easy, Sammy, easy," Brooke whispered into the top of Sam's hair. "Slow, deep breaths. Don't make yourself sick, hon."

"God, it hurts, Brooke!" Sam nearly screamed making Brooke wince in sympathy to the girl's pain. It was so palpable in her voice that Brooke felt a cold chill bolt down her spine and then coil itself like a snake in her belly. Her own tears fell from her cheeks to mingle with Sam's.

"I know, baby, I know," she started to rock Sam as she tightened her hold on the precious form in her arms. After what seemed like an eternity, Sam finally settled down to whimpers and small sobs. Broke quietly unwrapped the gloves from Sam's hands and then brought the battered red limbs up to her mouth to gently kiss each finger. She then placed soft feather-light kisses to Sam's palms as the brown-eyed girl watched, blurry eyes puffy and rimmed in red.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's put you back in bed," Brooke said tenderly. Sam nodded mutely and allowed Brooke to lead her back to the bedroom. Once there, Brooke gingerly tucked Sam into the bed and then crawled in next to her. Sam immediately wrapped herself around the blonde.

"Sleep, my Sammy," she whispered. "I'll keep you safe."

Part Twelve

"So, how are you feeling, Sam?" Jane asked as she got home from work to find Sam sitting on the couch staring blankly at the television. Ellen Degeneres was dancing her way across the screen, much to the delight of her audience. Sam shrugged and waved absently towards her mother.

"Same old, same old," the teen responded dully. Jane frowned at the hollow tone of her daughter's voice. She put down her purse and joined Sam on the couch.

"Sammy," she started softly. "I wish you'd talk to me." Sam turned her head to face her mother, shocking Jane with the lost and frightened look on her face.

"It's not that easy, Mom," Sam countered. "All this…stuff is clouding my brain and I can't seem to find my way through it. Then I just do things to screw it up again anyway. I'm getting tired of trying."

"Sam, you are not `messing up'," Jane explained. "You've been through so much. Most of what you're going through is perfectly natural for someone who's experienced trauma like you have."

"Alcoholism and slitting my wrist? Sounds like progress," Sam snorted. Jane rolled her eyes at her daughter's sarcasm and wished not for the first time that Sam wasn't so defensive by nature. If she was a little more open an individual, Jane had no doubt that her recovery would be going much more smoothly than it was.

"You're not an alcoholic, Sam," she reminded the teen. "Brooke made sure of that. She got you away from that stuff before it became a real problem."

"Yeah," Sam sighed.

"And the wrist thing was an accident. One that I prefer you never repeat, by the way."

"I couldn't if I wanted. Brooke removed all my sharp objects," Sam smirked slightly.

"All in all, Sam, I think you are making progress. You're talking to me, and that's a change," Jane pointed out. Sam shrugged.

"I guess. It's just…God, Mom, I'm so afraid," she admitted in a whisper. Jane reached over and brushed some of Sam's dark hair away from her face. She'd let her bangs get long enough to hide her eyes, something that bothered Jane. It was like Sam was looking for any way to hide herself from people.

"Of what, honey?" Sam grunted and put her head down to try and hide herself again. She didn't like having to make direct eye contact with her mother. She was afraid of seeing too much disappointment there.

"George's trial is soon," she explained quietly. "And I'm going to have to testify. I'm not sure I can."

"Of course you can, Sam…" Jane started to reassure her oldest child. Sam shook her head violently.

"No, Mom, you don't understand. You can't possibly." Sam fidgeted in her seat, snapping her knuckles. "I don't know that I can face him, even in a controlled setting like that. I'm scared I'll just freeze up and then he'll go free."

"Sam, he's not going to just walk away from this." At least Jane desperately hoped he wouldn't. As Sam's mother, she wanted nothing less than total retribution; she wanted George to spend a long time in either jail or a psych facility. And some small part of her wanted to hurt the boy even worse than he had hurt Sam. Just so that he could see what that was like. And as a normal, sane citizen, she wanted to make sure George stayed locked away so that he couldn't ever hurt anyone else.

"You DON"T know THAT!" Sam screamed suddenly, startling Jane with both the volume and the desperate fear behind her words. "You can't be sure, positive that he's not just going to go in there and tell them that I made shit up or that I attacked him first and then get to walk away! Don't patronize me or try to convince me that this is all going to work out. Because it's not and chances are he's just going to be let off and then he's going to come looking for me and Brooke and only Heaven knows what he'll do then."

"Sam, honey, you need to calm down," Jane tried to soothe Sam who was now pacing in front of her like a caged and wounded animal.

"I mean, let's face it, he's got a couple screws loose, you know? And he's pissed at me. So he's just going to come along and finish the job he started at school that day. And I doubt anything less than shooting him will stop him," Sam babbled frantically. "And then I'll probably be dead, Brooke too, and then all the authorities will be like `wow, didn't see that one coming' or `gosh, he seemed like such a nice kid. We should have listened to the girls.'" She spun and pinned her mother to the couch with a piercing look.

"And then I'll just be another sad statistic or something and Brooke will be an innocent victim. Jesus, I should have just not said anything to Brooke in the first place."

"If you hadn't, Sam, George most likely would have killed you by now and I'd never have had a chance to help," Brooke pointed out as she entered the room. She'd come in through the kitchen after going for a jog and was immediately drawn to Sam's panicked and anxious voice.

Sam turned her attention to her blonde girlfriend, a frown creasing her eyebrows.

"Rationally, I know that," she said evenly. "But the rest of me is petrified and I wish this whole mess never happened." She flopped down into the armchair, her body language conveying the defeat and hopelessness that she felt inside.

Brooke walked over to her and ran one hand through the curly brown locks on Sam's head for comfort.

"Look, Sam, I understand that facing George in court won't be easy," Jane said calmly. Sam's outburst had momentarily shaken her up; she hadn't seen that much emotion or energy come from Sam in far too long. And while Jane liked that Sam seemed to be opening up, the fear that radiated off Sam in nearly tangible waves made her sick to her stomach.

(So much fear from someone so young,) Jane sighed to herself. (I'd do anything to take it away from you.)

"But," Jane continued. "It's something that you have to do if for no other reason than to make sure that he doesn't put someone else through what you've been through. And no, I can't guarantee that he'll be convicted, but if you speak up and tell your story, than his chances of walking free are diminished."

"The Sam I know would do it just to spite George," Brooke added. "Get up there and basically give him the finger. `You're not going to have power over me anymore.' Tell him that, Sammy. Show him that you're stronger than he gave you credit for."

Sam hunched down in the chair, bringing her knees to her chest and just stared at both Brooke and her mother. She knew that they were right; she was letting her fear rule her and her actions. Something that the old Sam would have never done. She knew that had this happened to someone else, the old Sam would have been first in line to point out the injustices and fight for a guilty verdict. And she`d be trying to convince the victim to speak out, same and Jane and Brooke were doing to her now. But even knowing that on an intellectual level did nothing to pacify her fears.

"I'm scared that to get even with me, George'll do something to one of you," she said simply. (Might as well get it out in the open) she figured. "Brooke, you know how he feels about you. He hated you. And that was before you kicked his jock ass in the newspaper office. Now I think he wants to hurt you more than me. But George knows that by attacking my family, he'll do the most damage."

"Sam," Jane reached out and took her daughter's hand in hers as Sam picked at the cuff of her jeans. Sam's hands were ice cold. "Sam, Mike and I were talking about installing some security systems in the Palace. Just as a precaution. Would that make you feel a bit safer?" Sam sniffled and nodded.

"Yeah, Sam, maybe if you now that Dad and Jane and Mac are alright, you'll be able to relax?" Brooke suggested.

"We can't stay home forever," Sam pointed out although the thought of a security system in the Palace sounded great to her. The little beaten down part of her that George had created couldn't help but point out loopholes in the idea though.

"Sam, I am not going to let that little freaking prick control me for the rest of my life," Brooke said a bit more forcefully than she had intended. "And he's not going to control yours either."

"Brooke's right, baby," Jane agreed. "If you continue to let `what might happen' control everything that you do, George'll win regardless of whether or not he's convicted."

"You have to take back your life," Brooke added. She hated seeing how down and defeated Sam looked. She wanted Sam to stop blaming herself for the whole mess and step up and take back control.

"I know," Sam whispered. "I just don't know how."

"Don't worry, Sam," Brooke said cheerfully. "We'll help."

"And we'll start by calling th alarm company," Jane stood up. "Excuse me while I make some phone calls." After she left the room, Sam turned to look at Brooke.

"Do you think Mom's disappointed in me?" she asked quietly. Brooke sat on the arm of the chair, petting Sam's hair as she responded.

"Of course not. There's nothing to be disappointed in, Sammy. If anything, I think it's the direct opposite. We're all proud of you and how you're fighting your way back to who you used to be."

"Really?" Sam's voice was dumbstruck. She was convinced that she was somehow a disappointment and a burden to her family.

"Really really, babe," Brooke purred in Sam's ear. She watched as a genuine smile lit up Sam's face for a brief moment. But, like all happy expressions that graced Sam's face lately, it disappeared far too quickly for Brooke's liking.

"I hope so," Sam leaned into Brooke's warm body, feeling safe and loved. "I really hope you mean that." She wanted to believe that words but she had so many doubts. Nagging doubts planted by George and his emotional abuse that ended up making Sam feel inferior. But coming from Brooke, she was almost convinced. Almost.

"You can count on it," Brooke vowed.

***

"Ms McQueen, could you please tell the court the events on the afternoon of April 3rd?" prosecutor Duncan Thomas asked as Brooke sat on the witness chair. Brooke shifted in the chair uncomfortably. These were memories that she wasn't too keen to relive just yet.

(Get it together, Brooke. Sam's counting on you.) she tried to psych herself up. But Sam was right; it was terrifying to face George in the courtroom. He was sitting at the defense table, smug look on his face. As Brooke cleared her throat, George smiled at her. It sent a shiver of repulsion down the blonde's spine.

(God, look at him,) she thought to herself. (He looks like he expects to get away with this.) Anger began to course through her veins at that thought. (Like Hell)

"Ms McQueen?" Duncan brought Brooke back to the matter at hand.

"Uhm, yes, well I went to Glamazon practice after last period," Brooke began, summoning up both the memories as well as the strength to relive them.

"Around what time did you approach the school's newspaper office?" Duncan asked.

"It was probably 4 or so."

"And tell us what happened next."

Brooke frowned as the memories of that frightening day filled her mind,

"Well, I went inside to check on Sam. When I got to the door…"

<<< Brooke approached the door to the newspaper office, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

(Something's wrong, I can feel it.) she thought to herself. It was quiet in the hall; almost too quiet. Taking a deep breath, Brooke opened the door.

Desks, tables and chairs were scattered all over the room, capsized and a few broken into pieces. Her eyes took in the destruction even as her mind screamed that Sam was in trouble. Looking to the only other people in the room, she saw George pinning Sam to the blackboard by her throat. Sam's face was blue, her eyes beginning to close shut as George squeezed the life right out of her. Adrenaline shot through the blonde as she looked into Sam's pained eyes and witnessed the other girls' silent good-bye.

"You asked for that," George spat at the still figure in his hands. He threw Sam's body to the floor and then turned to Brooke. "Your turn."

Anger unlike anything she could ever remember feeling filled Brooke as she looked at Sam lying motionless where she landed. Anger and intense fear for Sam's life. She wanted desperately to run to the injured girl's side but knew that George was still a threat so she turned her attention to him.

"I'm going to kill you," she growled. And at that moment in time, she meant it. She wanted nothing more than to kill George with her bare hands, erase his existence like he seemed to be doing to Sam.

He charged her before she could move, tackling her to the floor and injuring some of the blonde's ribs. Brooke knew that the larger teen no doubt figured that she'd be an easy target and no problem to overpower. She intended to prove him seriously wrong. She got to her feet as fast as she could to catch the wind George had knocked out of her and to make sure she didn't make an easy target to kick.

"I'm going to enjoy making you scream," George taunted. Brooke's rage grew with each nasty word that George spat at her. "Bet you scream louder than Sam ever did."

The next few minutes were a blur to Brooke, having been pushed over the edge by the images of Sam's abuse and the memory of the brunettes pain and suffering. She knew that she traded quite a few hard hits with George but refused to back sown. Somewhere in her mind she knew that Sam's life was at stake and wasn't going to stop until George was no longer a threat to anyone.

She finally landed a clean and brutal kick to George's groin and watched him collapse in agony with no small amount of satisfaction. Deciding to make sure that he was incapacitated, Brooke gave him a few more hearty kicks before turning to Sam.

"Sam?" she called to Sam, suddenly aware that her throat was raw from screaming that she didn't remember doing. Sam was lying so frightfully still that it turned Brooke's stomach. The only time anyone was that still was in death.

"God, no, Sam, don't do this to me." She started to do rescue breathing on the battered form of the girl she loved, begging Sam to wake up.

"Come on, Sam. Come back to me," her voice took on an edge of panic as she tried to bring Sam back. "Don't do this to me, Sam!" she shouted desperately. Relief nearly made Brooke fall over when Sam couched and took in a breath on her own.

"That's it, Sam, just breathe," she whispered to the trembling and still coughing girl. Sam clung to her tightly. "You're safe now, just relax." Just then, Josh and Sugar burst into the room. >>>

"And after that?" Duncan questioned as Brooke tried to still her shaking hands. She looked out into the courtroom and saw Sam wiping away tears. Then the brunette smiled at her, her brown eyes conveying to Brooke exactly how thankful she was the Brooke had shown up when she did.

"Uhm, Sugar called 911 and he and Josh watched to make sure George didn't get back up," Brooke finished her story.

"The pictures, marked exhibit's A and B, that you took of Ms McPherson's body; why did you take them?" Duncan showed Brooke the photos of Sam's earlier bruising.

"Simple. I was afraid that George would do something drastic and I wanted insurance. Maybe if he knew I had photos, he'd leave Sam alone. And God Forbid he did come after her or us, then there'd be a way to nail him for it." Brooke was very satisfied with her answer. She smiled what she hoped was an evil smile at George.

"Thank you, Ms McQueen. Your witness." The defense attorney, Donna Putnam, approached Brooke.

"Ms McQueen, is it possible that these photos are of injuries NOT caused by the defendant?" Donna asked. Brooke's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Are you kidding me? Who else could have done something like that?" Brooke shot back.

"How about someone who was jealous of the romantic relationship between Sam McPherson and my client? How about someone with frequent `access' to Sam McPherson who lives in close proximity?"

"You aren't serious!?" Brooke exclaimed incredulously.

"Why is it so hard to believe that someone else might have been capable of the violence you attribute to the defendant?" Donna asked smugly.

(I swear I just wanna wipe that freaking expression right off the bitches face) Brooke silently fumed.

"Objection, your Honor. Council is badgering the witness," Duncan spoke up.

"Sustained," the judge agreed. "Mrs. Putnam, if you have no genuine questions for this witness…"

"Oh I do, your honor," Donna apologized. She turned back to Brooke. "Tell me, Ms McQueen, what is the nature of your relationship with Samantha McPherson?"

Brooke's heart jumped to her throat and started to race at what she figured was an incredibly unhealthy speed. She looked to see her panic mirrored on Sam's face.

"I'm sorry?" Brooke stalled. She really didn't want to answer that question in front of her father and Jane.

"Please answer the question, Ms McQueen; are you involved in a romantic relationship with Samantha McPherson?" Donna reiterated. "And remember that you are under oath and have sworn to tell the truth."

"She's going to be my stepsister, of course I care for her," Brooke tried to dodge. Donna shook her head.

"Let me simplify this for you, Ms McQueen. Are you in love with Samantha McPherson?"

"I…uhm….I…" Brooke stuttered. Sam was sitting in the front row shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. Jane and Mike were both staring at Brooke in shock.

"Your honor?" Donna addressed the judge.

"The witness is to answer the question," the judge said strictly to Brooke. Brooke frowned and fidgeted in the chair. She knew that she and Sam would eventually tell their parents; Brooke just didn't envision doing it in such a fashion.

"I repeat, are you in love with Samantha McPherson in a romantic sense?" Donna repeated the question while staring at Brooke. The blonde teen took a deep breath to fortify herself.

"Yes," she replied barely above a whisper. Suddenly a sense of pride and calm flowed through Brooke's body. She wasn't ashamed of loving Sam, and she wasn't going to pressured into feeling that way. "Yes, I do love Sam. So what?" Her tone let everyone know exactly what she thought of the defense attorney and her line of questioning as well as how strong her feelings for Sam really were.

She looked to her parents who were sitting numbly in shock and then over to Sam. There were still tears on her face but in her eyes, Brooke could see pride. And love.

"Then isn't it possible, Ms McQueen that YOU were the one who inflicted the damage on Samantha out of jealousy over her relationship with George?"

"NO!" Brooke yelled. "I'd never hurt Sammy in a million years! How dare you?"

"Objection!" Duncan yelled in chorus with Brooke's words.

"Sustained. Mrs. Putnam, save your theories for summation," the judge ordered.

"I have no further questions for this witness," Donna said arrogantly.

"You may step down," the judge instructed Brooke.

She walked over to where her family sat in a state of shock. (How could that woman say those things? I would never do that!) She felt Sam's hand reach for hers and hold it tightly.

"It's OK, Brooke," the other girl said gently. "I was proud of you up there."

"Dad? Jane?" Brooke asked timidly.

"Can't say I didn't see that coming," Jane sighed. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the migraine starting to build behind it.

"Well, it certainly explains a lot," Mike added. He looked at his oldest daughter and his eventual stepsister. They both looked at him expectantly. "Relax girls, it's OK. We'll talk about it later, but don't worry about it. Your mother and I, well, we kind of thought that there was something else going on."

"The court now summons Samantha McPherson to the stand," the bailiff announced.

Sam swallowed hard and started to shake. Brooke put her hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"You can do it, Sam," she assured the nervous girl. "Just stay calm and tell the truth. It's all you can do."

"OK," Sam nodded. She bit her lip and approached the stand.

(This is it.)

Part Thirteen

Sam took her seat in the witness box, her mind still spinning from Brooke’s public admission of love that had taken place a few minutes earlier. Yes, she knew that Brooke loved her; the lanky blonde had made that more than clear over the past few months. That was never in doubt. But it was kind of wrong for their parents to be informed of their fledgling relationship in such a dramatic fashion. It was a rather ‘shock and awe’ type of attack, which Sam figured was the defense attorney’s attempt to turn Mike and Jane against the her and Brooke as well as make them both look bad to the court. But still, Jane and Mike had taken the news surprisingly well and no one in the court other than them looked all that shocked.

Yet, something else was gnawing at Sam’s mind as she settled herself into the chair and tried to focus her attention on remaining calm and not looking at George’s somewhat predatory expression as he regarded her from the defense table a few feet away. Something basic and yet important that screamed for her attention as it tried to tell her something.

{Brooke loves you!} it yelled.

<I knew that> she responded absently as the bailiff swore her in.

{Maybe on some level, but did you LISTEN to her? Did you hear the way she said it, Sam?}

<What the hell are you babbling about?> Then she snorted internally. <What am I babbling about?>

{God, you’re thick sometimes.} The inner voice complained. {Look, did you even hear her? The way she said that she loved you, Sam? All this time you’ve believed on some level that she only cared for you out of pity…}

<Did not!> Sam protested.

{Shut up and listen to me. George made you believe that no one would ever be capable of loving you and you bought into that. He made you think that you were worthless, unlovable and unwanted. So even though you wanted to believe Brooke, and to some extent did, you’ve never truly let yourself think that Brooke’s love for you was anything more than pity or concern.}

<So?> she asked defensively as she heard herself automatically answer some inane question from the prosecutor.

{But did you hear her? She not only loves you, Sam…Yes, YOU Samantha McPherson; with all your faults and quirks, but she was PROUD to admit it. There was no fear, no shame, no doubt in her voice. She just admitted it to a room full of people that included your parents, court reporters, attorneys, and witnesses that she was IN love with you. Not to mention she was under oath. There’s no denying that she meant it, kiddo. She loves you. And she’s damn proud of it.}

And it was at that moment that something happened to Sam. The cocoon of self-doubt, self-hatred, and fear that surrounded her, created painstakingly by George Austin during their time as a couple, began to crack. Tiny spider web cracks appeared in the shell that Sam hid herself behind and they spiraled outwards, growing larger and deeper as they did so until the light and hope that Sam had so long denied herself was suddenly let in.

And then she understood.

And she wasn’t afraid anymore.

She was Sam McPherson. She was right and George was wrong. It was that simple.

She looked out at Brooke who was sitting with their parents, a worried look on her face as the prosecutor continued his questioning. Sam waited until she locked eyes with Brooke before she smiled, a full wide reassuring smile that stunned Brooke for a few seconds. Then Sam watched as understanding crossed Brooke’s face, the look of worry slipping away to be replaced by an answering smile.

After all, she was only going to tell the truth, same as Brooke had done. Truth, that Sam realized, would finally set her free. Whatever came after that she could deal with because she knew two important things: she wasn’t the victim that George had tried to make her. She was Sam, the same Sam she had always been if she chose to be. And she was loved. By Brooke. By her mother, Mike, her friends.

By Brooke.

It was all she really needed to know.

“Samantha, could you tell the court your memory of the events surrounding the afternoon of April 3rd?” the prosecutor Duncan Thomas asked as Sam’s attention finally turned outward and she nodded.

“Um, after classes were over, I talked to Principal Krupps for a few minutes about the next edition of the school newspaper and got his approval for some new layouts and stuff I wanted to try,” she began slowly, closing her eyes as she spoke and the memory played itself across her closed eyelids.

“Then I went to the editing office to put the edition together, finalize the layout, proof it, and finish it up.”

“And you were alone in the office?” Sam opened her eyes and nodded again.

“Yes. I usually have one day in the office to myself to pull the latest edition together before it goes to print. The rest of the staff starts their new assignments and I call them if I have any last minute revisions or things that I need their help with.”

“All right, after you arrived in the office, what happened next?” Duncan continued to question Sam in a direct but non-threatening manner, allowing her to tell her story at her own pace.

“Well, I was looking over the layout for the booster page, the page where we run ads for our sponsors when I heard the door open,” Sam explained, again closing her eyes as she reluctantly relived that dark day.

<<<Sam smiled as she heard the door opening, thinking that the blonde head cheerleader that was usurping so many of her thoughts lately had arrived to surprise her.

“Don’t you have practice?” she asked as she turned around. Her smile quickly faded as she gazed upon George standing only feet away, anger and rage running off of him in nearly tangible waves. Yet the menacing smile on his face alarmed Sam more than anything else.

“I’m not your fucking dyke girlfriend, Sammy,” he pointed out angrily although his smile didn’t diminish. “No, Sammy, I’m your one and only. I’m your boyfriend and you’re cheating on me with that blonde bitch.”

“You are NOT my boyfriend,” Sam protested as she took a step back, trying to stay out of George’s reach. She wasn’t stupid; she knew that being alone in a room with an angry George wouldn’t be a good thing for her health.

She and Brooke had planned to go to the police that afternoon, which the sarcastic part of her brain now pointed out as being sickly ironic given her present situation. They hadn’t been too concerned with George trying anything on school grounds because they weren’t generally apart from one another too long and if he did attempt to harm either of them, there were bound to be plenty of witnesses.

But as he closed in on her, Sam realized that they had been counting on the school being in session to protect them and overlooked the fact that at some point, George might take advantage of the buildings vacancy.

“Aren’t you missing practice?” Sam asked, hoping to distract George until someone walked in. Not that she was expecting anyone but, she figured she could always hope.

“I have something better to do,” he explained in a bored voice. “Deal with you.”

Sam tried to clamp down on the visceral, real fear that she felt crawling up her throat threatening to close off her air as she hyperventilated. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast in her chest that she idly wondered if she’d end up having a coronary before George even tried anything.

“Look George, I don’t want to argue with you. But I also don’t want to be alone in a room with you, so could you please leave?” she asked, hoping to somehow reason with the abusive young man who was eyeing her with an expression that reminded Sam of a maniac.

“We have unfinished business, you and I,” George reminded her, his voice turning hard and cold. Sam shook her head.

“No George, we don’t,” she argued softly, her fear growing with each passing moment.

“You broke up with me, Sam,” he started slowly. “And that’s really not allowed. And to leave me for that self-absorbed, arrogant bimbo dyke? Well, Sam, I really can’t have that.”

“George…”

“You know that what we had was special, Sam, right?” George cracked his knuckles, the sound turning Sam’s stomach. “You’ll never have that with that bitch. She’s only going to hurt you. She doesn’t even LIKE you, never mind love you. She’s only pitying you. You’re not worthy of her, Sam. You’re below her…”

“I broke up with you because you’re a sadistic, abusive bastard,” Sam broke in, her voice beginning to shake as George stepped towards her. “What we had wasn’t ‘special’, it was sick! Brooke is my girlfriend and she loves and cares for me. She’d never hurt me, especially like you did.”

“I love you, Sam,” George said in a sulky voice, his smile reappearing and sending chills up Sam’s spine.

“That wasn’t love!” Sam screamed, hoping someone was walking by the closed door to the room. “You HURT me, George! You could have killed me!”

“I was trying to teach you your place, Sammy,” he explained, his voice changing from the petulant tone of moments earlier to a harsh and cruel tone. “You’re mine and you need to know that.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” Sam yelled, frightened and upset. No one was coming and her fear was beginning to overwhelm her.

“All you had to do was keep your mouth shut. But no, you had to go and blab to Blondie and who knows who else. At least I know you haven‘t gone to the police because I haven‘t heard from them, not that they‘d believe your sorry ass anyway,” George continued as he inched closer to the retreating Sam, effectively cutting off her escape route. “I told you what would happen if you told, Sam. I warned you.”

And indeed he had. As she searched desperately to find a way around George and avoid those hands that she knew could cause her unimaginable pain, she heard his words yet again ringing clearly through her mind.

["You tell Brooke and she'll be the one to suffer." ]
["If you think I've hurt you, try and imagine what I could do to Brooke."]
[“Brooke's a lot more delicate than you are, Sam. I'll bet she'd break a lot easier. I bet she'd scream a lot louder too." ]
["Can't you just hear her bones snapping, Sam? The crack of bone against bone? Flesh against flesh?" ]
["Can you hear her screaming, Sammy? Screaming for you? Screaming in pain, begging me to stop all because you couldn't keep your big fat mouth shut?"]

“Please God, no,” she whispered.

“I’m going to make you both pay for betraying me. First, I’m going to teach you exactly how worthless you are. Then I’m going to go and play with your fucking precious Brooke. I’ll break her, same as I’ve broken you,” George taunted.

“Leave her alone!” Sam screamed as George lunged and grasped her around the waist as she tried to dodge out of his grip and get to the door. He used his superior size and strength to throw Sam in the opposite direction, sending her flying painfully into a couple of desks and then crashing to the floor. She rolled painfully to her knees and picked up the nearest weapon, a stapler, and heaved it with all her strength at her approaching attacker. It caught him directly in the chest and he winced.

“Bitch!” George yelled as he kicked at Sam’s face. She managed to turn her head slightly so that it was only a glancing blow and didn’t manage to knock any of her teeth out. She tasted the coppery flavor of her blood on her tongue and tried to elude the irate football players next kick but still it landed squarely in her ribcage. She swore that she felt something inside snap.

“Come here,” he snarled as he captured her shirt sleeve and pulled her back to him. She kicked him and fought, knocking over more desks and hitting George a few times. But it wasn’t enough to deter him. He roared in anger before punching Sam hard in the face. As she tried to regain her senses, he slammed the back of her head into the blackboard.

“Although I should have kept you on your knees, begging. It’s where you belong. Down below, looking up to me and everyone else. You are nothing, Samantha! Do you know that! Less than nothing!” he yelled as Sam tried to blink the stars from her vision. She spit blood into his face.

“Fuck…you,” she gasped angrily. She swung out at him with her fist, connecting on the side of his face as he released her shirt. The next punch he landed on her already injured ribs nearly made her vomit.

“Hope you enjoyed those final words, Sammy,” George said in a sickeningly sweet voice. He then grasped her tightly around the neck with both hands and started to squeeze. The stark reality of the situation and the surreal sense that this couldn’t possibly be happening, warred within Sam as she scratched and clawed frantically at the hands that were quickly squeezing the life out of her.

Time seemed to crawl as her vision started to black out. She found herself oddly grateful that it was finally going to be over. At least she wouldn't have to watch George finish killing her. The grip he had on her neck was cutting off her air supply and giving her tunnel vision. Sam desperately hoped Brooke was someplace safe, someplace far far away and that George never got a chance to follow through on his threats against the blonde.

"I'm gonna keep squeezing until you're dead and then I'm gonna do the same to your precious Brooke," George growled. Sam tried to kick out at him but her legs felt heavy and wouldn't respond. She was growing tired but the thought of him hurting Brooke was fueling her with extra energy and she kept struggling.

"Although, maybe first, since I never got any from you, I'll have a little fun with her," he threatened. Sam's eyes widened as a little more awareness came back to her. She didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what he meant by that. This time she managed to kick him in the side.

"Ow! Bitch!" George yelled as he slammed the back of Sam's head into the blackboard behind her again. Darkness swarmed into her vision yet again as she desperately tried to cling to consciousness. She clawed at his hand but he wouldn't let go. She did get in one good swipe at his face that left a few bloody marks across his cheek but he only tightened his grip.

Her lungs were burning and she couldn't remember the last time she took a breath. Her life was ending and she was painfully aware of it. She had a few regrets but was glad of at least two things. Brooke wasn't here to witness it and she had told Brooke of her feelings. At least she could die knowing that Brooke knew how she felt. Just as her vision started to grey out that final time, the door flew open and there stood Brooke.

(No, Brooke, just leave. Please, I don't want you to watch me die)

"Sam?" Brooke's voice sounded very far away and as much as Sam wanted to answer, she couldn't.

(Run, Brooke! Run!) She managed to look at the beauty she realized she loved so much one last time, hoping to convey how much she loved her with her eyes and unable to hold on any longer, Sam let go.

(I love you Brooke…good-bye) >>

“The next thing that I remember is coming to, choking on the floor of the office,” Sam finished as she shivered at the ghostly feel of remembering George’s hands at her throat. She reached up and rubbed her neck as if to remind herself that it was only a memory and not happening again.

“But even that’s kind of fuzzy. It gets clearer when I woke up in the hospital later,” she added. Duncan nodded.

“And you in no way provoked Mr. Austin into this attack?” he asked. Sam shook her head.

“No, not at all,” she responded.

“And do you believe, Miss McPherson, that had Brooke McQueen not arrived when she did, that you would still be with us?”

“No. No, I know that I’d be dead,” Sam answered, her voice conveying the certainty of her words. “If Brooke hadn’t walked in just then, George would have killed me.”

“Thank you. Your witness.” Duncan walked back to his table and Sam watched with a growing sense of apprehension as George’s lawyer Donna Putnam approached.

“Truly a harrowing story, Miss McPherson,” Donna said with obvious fake sympathy. “Why, I myself had goose bumps.”

“Objection!” Duncan called out angrily from his seat. “The defense is clearly mocking the witness.”

“Sustained,” the judge agreed. “Mrs. Putnam, I suggest that you stick to questioning the witness and keep your personal testimonials to yourself.”

“Yes, your Honor,” Donna acquiesced. “Let me try again: Miss McPherson, how long did you date the defendant?” Sam frowned as she thought.

“A few months.”

“A few months? And yet you claim that his alleged abusive behavior was present nearly from the beginning. So my question is this: why does a young woman who is clearly possessed of above average intelligence, continue to stay with a man if he treats her in the manner of which you’ve portrayed Mr. Austin?”

“Because he threatened my family and friends,” Sam snapped back harshly. “I was willing to take it if it meant that they’d be safe.”

“I see,” Donna nodded, clearly not believing Sam‘s reasons. “Isn’t it possible that the defendant never actually laid a finger on you? Isn’t it possible that the truth is that the person who did cause these injuries, injuries that you never divulged to anyone else, is someone else very close to you? Didn’t Mr. Austin offer his help and yet you refused it?”

“What? No! He did this to me! There was never anyone else hitting me, threatening me other than George!” Sam protested angrily. She was beyond angry at the line of questioning Donna was directing at her.

“We have your hospital records from when you did seek medical attention. They state that on both occasions you were accompanied by a blonde female. Can we safely assume this to be Brooke McQueen?”

“Yes,” Sam growled, still angry over the last question.

“So she accompanied you to both visits to an emergency room?” Sam rolled her eyes.

<Didn’t I just answer that?> she wondered sarcastically.

“Yes. She insisted that I go and went with me,” she explained.

“So she took you to get medical attention and then stayed with you as you were treated. Did you ever try to tell the medical staff what was going on?” Donna asked as she glanced over at her client.

“No. I told you that George said he’d hurt my family if I told ANYONE. And I knew if I told the doctors that they’d call the police. I didn’t want that.”

“So Miss McQueen decided when you’d go for medical attention, what you’d say to the medical staff and then monitored your treatment?” Donna smirked at Sam who felt her blood pressure hit the ceiling. “Sounds very controlling of her, to me.”

“Objection!” Duncan called out.

“Sustained. Miss Putnam, I warned you once already. Please refrain from editorializing,” the Judge cautioned.

“Yes, your Honor. Sam, isn’t it true that Brooke kept you isolated from everyone else?”

“It wasn’t like that, she was trying to help me. I was scared!” Sam argued. She was getting desperate to get her point across but felt like Donna was twisting everything into something ugly.

“Miss McPherson, we’ve heard from Brooke McQueen that her motivations for ‘helping’ you weren’t altogether selfless. She has deep, romantic feelings for you. Is this true?”

“Yes. And I feel the same,” Sam countered confidently.

“And given that you knew of her feelings for you, feelings that you claim to reciprocate…” Donna began.

“I don’t ‘claim’, I do!” Sam interrupted

“Given her romantic interest in you, Miss McPherson,” Donna continued heedless of Sam’s protest. “Couldn’t she, in her jealously over your relationship with the defendant, be the one who beat you over the course of time? And that when you tried to tell George, Brooke McQueen confronted him and threatened his own safety?”

“NO! NO! that’s not what happened!” Sam disputed.

“Well, we know that Miss McQueen did indeed confront and threaten Mr. Austin, she admits that in her statement to the police.”

“She was trying to protect me!” Sam argued.

“Your Honor, the defense is harassing the witness,” Duncan objected, annoyed.

“Your Honor, I’m simply trying to get the full story out of the witness. If Miss McQueen is capable of threatening the defendant, as well as inflict the injuries that he sustained that afternoon, I think it’s a valid point of argument.”

“Overruled. But I warn you, Mrs. Putnam, to stick to the facts and not conjure up any more fantasy scenarios in your ‘quest’ for the truth,” the judge warned.

“Understood, your Honor,” Donna turned back to Sam who sat seething in anger on the witness stand.

“Tell me, if this alleged abuse was happening for as long as you claim, why did none of your other friends notice?”

“I hid it,” Sam grumbled. “I told you, George told me that if anyone, ANYONE found out that he’d hurt my family.”

“Isn’t it true that Miss McQueen refused to let Mr. Austin, your boyfriend at the time, to see you one day after school? And then again kept you from leaving the house for an entire weekend, cutting you off from all outside contact?”

Sam was nearly literally seeing red as she listened to the way that the defense was twisting the facts into something that they weren’t. And she could see Brooke sitting in her chair, face red with anger, clenching and releasing her fists in a show of barely suppressed rage.

“She was protecting me from him,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “And that weekend, she took care of me and my injuries. I wasn’t cut off from everyone, just George. I spoke to Lily that Saturday night…”

“Samantha…Sam, isn’t it possible that Brooke McQueen is the real guilty party here? That she allowed her feelings for you to consume her in a rage that she then took out on you?” Donna leaned in closer to Sam and stood to block the brunette’s view of the blonde.

“Don’t be afraid to tell us the real truth, Miss McPherson,” she coaxed. “She can’t hurt you now.”

“She never hurt me!” Sam yelled as she looked at the satisfied expression on George’s face. It turned her stomach to see him taking such pleasure in hurting her and her family again. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

“The only person who ever hit me, threatened me, or made me feel worthless, was George Austin,” Sam declared, her voice low but calm.

“Move to strike the witnesses comment from the record…” Donna began.

“Your Honor, the defense has no proof with which to back up this theory that she’s spinning!” Duncan called out, cutting Donna off completely. “She‘s simply berating the witness and instead of questioning the facts of the case, she‘s instead imposing her theory on the witness.”

“I think that the injuries my client sustained at the hands of Miss McQueen are proof enough of her capabilities to that end,” Donna pointed out. The judge banged his gavel down, making Sam jump.

“Sustained. However, the witnesses statement will remain on the record. Mrs. Putnam, I’ve given you more than enough leeway. Save your theories for your summation. Now, do you have any factual questions for the witness?”

“No, your Honor,” Donna responded, sending Sam a smug look that Sam itched to smack right off the woman.

“Then the witness is dismissed. You may step down.”

Part Fourteen

Totally spent from the events at the courthouse, Sam collapsed on her bed and was asleep before Brooke emerged from the bathroom minutes later. The blonde looked down at her girlfriend and smiled slightly, the image of the emotionally recovering brunette sprawled out asleep on her bed was amazingly adorable to her. She felt badly though, that the truth of their relationship had been sprung on their parents the way it had been. While it wasn't something she and Sam had talked about much, especially since they had more rocky moments than a dirt biker, she knew that neither of them wanted Jane and Mike to find out so shockingly.

She kissed Sam on the forehead and sighed, covering her with a blanket and then heading downstairs to face what needed to be faced. She wanted to spare Sam from the brunt of their parents anger so she sought them out in the kitchen where they were preparing a snack together.

"So, is the yelling going to start right off or can I get a granola bar?" she asked, grabbing a water from the fridge. Both Mike and Jane looked at her in surprise.

"There's not going to be any yelling, Brooke," Jane said simply. "While your father and I do wish that you and Sam had felt comfortable enough to tell us yourselves about...your relationship..." she faltered and looked to Mike for help.

"Point is, Brooke, we would have supported you," he said gently. "We do support you two. It's a shock, yes..."

"Kinda left field," Jane muttered. She then smiled apologetically at Brooke. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Brooke sighed. "We should have trusted that you wouldn't flip out but...it's just...it's been hard, you know? Sam's gone through so much with George and she's not always convinced that I'm sincere..."

"What?" Jane said suddenly. "Why not?"

"She doesn't honestly think you're playing a prank on her, does she honey?" Mike wondered. Brooke let out a loud sigh and sat down at the table.

"George did so much more damage than just the physical stuff," she confessed, somewhat defeated. "I never really realized, until I saw and listened to Sam, how much damage something like words could do."

"They are the sharpest weapon," Jane agreed, sitting down with her stepdaughter as Mike sat across from them. Brooke nodded.

"He said some really mean stuff to her," she explained sadly, hurting for her girlfriend and the things she'd been through. "I mean, I don't see how Sam could ever think she was anything less than the prettiest girl in the room." She looked up and then blushed darkly, clearing her throat. "Uhm, sorry."

"It...it's OK, Brooke," Jane stammered.

"It's going to take a little getting used to but, Brooke, honey, we'll adjust," Mike declared confidently. "Really, I'd rather see you with Sam than some boy that could turn me into a Grandfather before my time."

"Mike!" Jane scolded.

"Dad!" Brooke groaned, embarrassed.

"Sorry," Mike said, laughing slightly. He shrugged at the dual glares. "Hey, it's the truth." Brooke shook her head with a small chuckle and continued her story.

"But he's beaten her down so badly that she really thinks she's worthless; that no one, especially me, could love her. And it breaks my heart because I do," Brooke said, her voice catching slightly. "I love her so much."

"She sees that, Brooke," Jane told her. "After the way you talked about her on the witness stand today, how can she not?"

"I know," Brooke groaned. "But she has this overly glamorized vision of me sometimes, like I'm a step above her or something. It bothers me."

"Well, honestly, Brooke," Mike broke in, his voice rough. "You caused some of that yourself." Brooke looked up from where she'd been studying the table to shoot a hot, angry glare at her father. "Don't look at me like that, Brooke; for a long time you did hold yourself around Sam like she was below you. You were a Blonde; she was a Brunette. You created this division..."

"Sam helped!" Brooke protested. "That was not just me." Mike shook his head.

"No, you're right, it's not," he agreed. "But George knew about it and preyed upon it. He used everything he could to wear her down. Any little crack or weakness, he exploited it. It's what abusers, like George do. It gives them control." Brooke nodded.

"And Sammy still hears him sometimes," she said, tears brewing in hazel eyes, falling over as she lifted her head. "She's doing better lately but still...she doubts so much..."

"I agree with your father," Jane said softly. "After the way you stood there and took the cheap shots that defense attorney made...Oh i just wanted to wring that woman's neck. She was such a...a..." Jane grumbled, not wanting to swear in front of Brooke.

"Bitch?" the young blonde supplied anyway with a smirk. Both parents gave her a reproachful but amused look. "Yeah, I know. I couldn't believe the things she was saying, accusing me of. I would never hurt Sammy and certainly never hurt her the way George did."

"We know that, Brooke," Jane assured her. "And so does Sam. Did you see her face, when she got on the stand?"

"She was terrified," Mike pointed out. Jane shook her head.

"Yes, she was at first. But then," she looked pointedly at Brooke. "Then something happened; it was like she paused and thought and I swear it was like the whole 'gloom and doom' cloud that's been weighing her down since this whole mess began suddenly lifted, she broke free. She looked at you, Brooke, and she looked...I don't know, peaceful, I guess?"

"And she fought back when the defense attorney started her nonsense," Mike added, sounding proud of Sam, smiling even and it warmed Brooke's heart. She realized that they really did support them; that her father really did love Sam. It gave her hope that things really would eventually work themselves out.

"She did, didn't she?" Brooke said happily. She knew that there was a time not too long ago that Sam would have shrunk away from the questions and lies being thrown at her and hidden somewhere inside herself to avoid them. Yet, in full view of everyone in that courtroom, she stood strong and fought for herself for the first time since George began beating her.

"I think that we, this family, we're going to be OK," Mike declared. "Whatever happens, with George and his sentencing, we will get through it, as a family." Brooke and Jane nodded. A few minutes later, Brooke stood up and stretched.

"I'm gonna go check on Sammy and let her know you two are...ok...with us," she stopped and frowned. "You are, right? You're not gonna turn around once the trial is over and demand we stop seeing each other or something, are you?" Mike moved and enveloped his daughter in a tight hug.

"All I have ever wanted for you, Brooke, is to be safe and happy and loved," he explained. "And if you find those things with Sam, I may be a bit...uncomfortable with it at first but I promise you that I will be OK with it in the long run. I won't ever judge you two for it or demand that you change. I just want both my girls to be happy."

"Thanks, Daddy," Brooke sniffled, hugging her father again.

"Now go check on Sam and I'll make some dinner," Jane decided. She felt like cooking and bringing the four of them to the table for dinner. Brooke hugged her as well and then headed to the stairs feeling lighter and freer than she had in ages.

TBC