Thin Skull

Title: Thin Skull

Author: Harper

Abbie

The incessant knocking at the door pulled me out of a deep and very satisfying sleep, and with a sigh I looked over to where I expected my companion to be, finding that side of the bed depressingly empty.

"Sam?" She couldn't be far. It wasn't as if there was enough room in the apartment for her to be anywhere that she couldn't hear me.

Silence was my only answer though, but after a few moments my sleep-fogged brain cleared up enough to hear the sound of the shower over the continuing banging, and with a sigh I got up, pulling the sheet with me and wrapping it around my nude torso, intent on making whoever it was at the door go away so that I could return to bed, and to sleep, in peace. After all, it'd been a long night and I was exhausted.

A glimpse through the peep-hole revealed a clean cut blonde man, and I figured that he looked harmless enough for me to open the door a bit. Not that I wasn't going to leave the chain in place, because I liked the protection that it offered, scant though that was. I'd seen enough doors kicked in and enough of those puny little chains pulled from the wall to know that they really didn't offer any substantial help, but it still made me feel better to pretend that they did.

"Can I help you?" Through the four inch gap that the chain allowed, I could see that the man wasn't alone. In fact, he appears to have an entire entourage, and I start to get a bad feeling about this.

"Oh, I'm sorry." His eyes traced down my torso to catch on the sheet that I've wrapped around me like a half-assed toga, and I had to fight the urge to duck behind the door. "I was looking for Samantha MacPhearson, but must have the wrong address. Do you happen to know which apartment is hers?"

He seems pretty jovial, and its hard to imagine a man with two slim females and a five year old as a threat, so I close the door, unhooking the chain from its moorings before opening it wide, trying not to be self-conscious about my state of dress, or lack thereof.

"Uh, actually this is her apartment," I say, trying not to stutter, which is hard with four sets of very curious eyes looking at me expectantly. "I don't think she was expecting company… Just who are you, anyway?"

Okay, so I was never at my polite best upon awakening, but it did seem fairly pertinent to figure out just who all these people were, itching, somewhat frightening, suspicions notwithstanding.

"Mike McQueen, Sam's stepfather." Aw shit. This was very not good. He sounded a bit miffed now himself, and I fought the urge to slam the door in his face and retreat back into the bowels of the apartment until Sam emerged from the shower and could handle this situation for herself. As it was, I didn't envision any kind of a happy ending in the near future. "And just who are you?"

"Abbie Carmichael." Out of habit I extended a hand, and out of habit he shook it. "I'm…"

I broke off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence, but thankfully was saved the trouble anyway.

"Abbie, where'd you go?" At the sound of Sam's voice all five of us looked up, me with relief and the other four with a mixture of confusion and expectation, to focus on the sight of my lover, standing with one towel wrapped around her torso and another obscuring her face as it rubbed vigorously at long, wet hair.

"Sam, honey, you've got company." And, I added mentally, you really need to invest in longer towels. And, I need to learn that just because I don't leave marks in normally visible areas, that doesn't mean that they won't be seen… by your parents… when I'm standing here wrapped in a bed sheet… in an apartment reeking of sex… at 8:00 on a Saturday morning. Dear Lord, I haven't been in a situation this awkward since that time in Abilene after the UT/A&M game when I woke up with that red-head whose name I didn't remember and couldn't find my shirt.

I watched as my lover looked up, watched as a mixture of horror and surprise chased its way across her face, watched as the towel in her hand fell carelessly to the floor, and wondered if it was soon going to be followed by her unconscious form. Since all explanations would then be left up to me, I was sincerely hoping that that didn't happen.

"Mom… Mike… Brooke… Mac… You're here," she said weakly. Well, at least now I have my confirmation. That's right folks, the whole entire family, and me not even wearing my skivvies. Which, I realized, was something that I needed to fix.

"Um, Mike had business to take care of, and we thought that we'd just make a trip of it, come to visit you here since you haven't been home in so long. You know, surprise you…" The lady that I assumed was her mother was doing an admirable job of filling the awkward silence while also explaining away their unexpected presence on Sam's doorstep, and I had to appreciate the tendency to babble that apparently ran from mother to daughter. At the very least, it was good for learning important facts without having to dig for them.

If I hadn't been standing here wearing a sheet, this little tableau might just have been funny. Speaking of…

"If ya'll will excuse me, I think I'll just go put on some clothes." Well hell, maybe I shouldn't have said that. I mean, not that it wasn't obvious that I was completely without clothes when they first arrived, but if I call their attention to the fact that I'm now going to put some on and then disappear into the bedroom… Wait, what the hell am I worrying about anyway. I think its already fairly obvious that I'm screwing their daughter, so the very least I can do is wear clothing to this less than fun-filled early morning get together.

"Uh, I think I'll get dressed too. Why don't you all come in, have a seat… I'll be back in a second." If I wasn't mistaken, that was a classic example of a panic face that I was getting to see right now, and if I didn't think that the parents would take it the wrong way, I'd laugh.

But, as fun as it might be to stand and make fun of my inwardly frantic lover here amongst the family in my retro Roman attire, my real clothes were in the bedroom and that's where I was headed. Of course, all I had to wear was my suit, which was no doubt hopelessly wrinkled from spending a night on the floor, but it was better than a 250 count cream cotton sheet. Sam just pulled on a pair of jeans and threw on a tee-shirt, but I took my time, brushing my teeth, running a comb through my hair, going through the process of re-donning hose and silk underwear. Luckily the jacket wasn't too badly wrinkled, though I couldn't say the same for my skirt or the silk shell, but at least the worst was hidden from view.

With the armor of my suit firmly in place, there wasn't really any reason to keep from returning to the living room, which seemed a bit too silent. But, not one to cower under the weight of a possibly embarrassing encounter, especially considering that I'd already had one this morning, I strode confidently out of the bedroom. When all eyes turned my way, though, I suddenly became vividly aware of how odd I must look in my heels, in my rumpled business suit, and wondered if it would reflect poorly on me if I kept right on walking. I scowled, not quite sure that would provide the right impression. Nope, then it'd probably just look like the corporate shark in a suit that had seduced their impressionable little daughter was abandoning her the next day with little more than a thanks and a promise to call later.

"Mommy, she's scary." Bless children and their little voices, which are never quite the whispers that they think they are. This child at least seemed astute though, so I had to give her credit. I was pretty scary most of the time. Besides, the deep red flush that crawled up Sam's mother's cheeks at the words helped to break the nervous tension blanketing the room, for which I was grateful.

"Uh, this is Abbie." Sam's voice was a little hesitant, and I tried to smile reassuringly, though I don't think it helped much. "Abbie, this is Mike McQueen, my stepfather; Jane MacPhearson-McQueen, my mother; Brooke McQueen, my stepsister; and MacKenzie MacPhearson McQueen, my little sister."

"It's a pleasure to meet ya'll." There was little more that I could do than smile and nod, so I did both before choosing to lean back against the wall. There weren't any free chairs in the room at the moment, and this posture seemed to be the least intimidating that I could come up with.

A chorus of polite words echoed around the room in response to mine, and I couldn't help but feel a bit of morbid curiosity, wondering exactly how this little scene would draw to a close. Mike was looking a bit out of sorts, as if he couldn't reconcile the whole thing while Jane just kept glancing back and forth between me and her daughter, a slight look of confusion crossing her features. Brooke, the blonde, was throwing me rather hostile glares, and the kid just sat there oblivious to it all.

"Maybe we should leave Sam and her guest alone for a little while, right Mike?" This came from the mother, a hint of desperation covering her tone. As much as parents say that they want to know what's going on in their child's life, there were always some things for which one can never be prepared. I imagine that walking in on your daughter and her lover when its fairly clear that they've recently been involved in fornicative activities is one of those things.

"Wonderful idea." I almost had to laugh at the sheer relief I could hear in his voice. "Why don't we make some plans for later on, Sam. Lunch maybe, if you're not doing anything."

"That would be great." Ah, Sam still had that stunned look going for her, as if she hadn't quite grasped the ramifications of the whole situation yet.

"And you'll come as well won't you, Ms. Carmichael?" Something in the way that was said put it more in the line of a demand than an invitation, but I was willing to let it slide. A quick nod to Mike signaled my acceptance, though I couldn't help but think that I'd rather be forced to watch reruns of Different Strokes for 24 straight hours than to stretch the awkwardness of this moment out over an entire lunch.

So, that meant I had lunch with the potentially aggrieved parents of my girlfriend who, much to my chagrin, were probably closer to my own age than she was, and I had to deal with the little admission that I don't think Sam even remembered making.

Just before she'd fallen asleep last night, or maybe even as she drifted off, she'd turned to me, burying her face in my neck. It was hard to tell since the sound was muffled by my skin, but I swear I heard the three little words that had the potential to sending me into paroxysms of anxiety. Uh-huh, the L-word, tied in with an I and a You. And that, I didn't even want to begin thinking about.

All in all, it appeared that mornings were simply not my friend.

Sam

Mike was going to drive me insane. About an hour before we were supposed to me the family for lunch, Abbie got called in to the 2-7 precinct. She had forgotten in all the excitement, apparently, that she was the ADA rotating through this weekend. I'd gotten a quick phone call assuring me that she'd get here as soon as she could, and that was the last I'd heard from her.

We'd been seated for about fifteen minutes now, and Mike had managed to crumble his breadstick into tiny pieces. Conversation between my Mother, Brooke and I was a bit stilted, probably because I was still as embarrassed as hell and more than nervous about lunch. Not that I was worried about Abbie or anything… well, yeah, I was worried about Abbie. She spent the majority of her time letting punks know that they couldn't push her around, and I had a sneaking suspicion that Mike was planning on whipping out his best aggrieved Father routine. How that'd end up, I couldn't know. All I did know is that she's got him beat in the stubborn department, and any argument that he might try to pick with her might as well enter itself into the 'Loss' category on his scoresheet at word one.

Brooke was filling me in on her new job, looking like she'd rather have been shipped off to Siberia than to be sitting where she was. Our parting hadn't been exactly sweet, but I didn't know if it was still residual anger over that or something else that was behind the daggers being shot my way from angry hazel eyes. Mom was doing her damndest to be cheerful, updating me on all of little Mac's latest accomplishments whenever Brooke would trail off, and I was seriously considering a public self-execution.

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, Abbie showed up. With a wide grin and an apology, she slid into the vacant seat to my left.

"I'm terribly sorry about that. I had completely forgotten that I was on rotation this weekend. I hope you haven't been waiting long." I thought it was a nice gesture, but apparently not every one else was as convinced.

"Can't imagine what could have made it slip your mind." That jab came from Brooke, in a sugary-sweet voice that rankled even my nerves, and I sent up a quick prayer that lunch wouldn't come served with a side-dish of bloodshed.

"Brooke, right?" Oh, I'd heard that tone before. It was the one Abbie used right before she ripped into someone, and I closed my eyes, waiting on the inevitable explosion.

"Yeah," my step-sister said in that guarded tone that people use when they suspect they might be getting set up.

"You'll have to tell me what Sam was like as a little girl. I can't pry anything out of her." Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one. She could pry things out of me all right, my neighbors could attest to that, but I didn't want to think about some of the things I'd shouted out last night in the same context with me as a little girl stories.

I was proud of Abbie for that one though. Not only had she managed to cut Brooke off at the pass, but she'd done so without threatening anyone. For someone whose stock in trade was intimidation, it was a laudable accomplishment.

"Maybe you'd be better off asking Jane about that," was all Brooke said in response, giving my lover an indifferent shrug. I cringed at the thought of what story my Mom might pull out, though I was willing to take a little embarrassment if that meant easing a bit of the tension currently settling over the table. Unfortunately, Mike chose that moment to snap.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" All eyes turned his way at the loud words, even some from neighboring tables, and I decided to bury my face in my hands. If it worked for ostriches, then it might work for me. I gave it up after a second though, because if there was going to be a showdown, then I was going to be part of it. No way was I going to leave it to Abbie to defend herself.

"Waiting on our server?" I offered, cutting off whatever my lover had been about to say. It was a preemptory strike, and I could only hope that it found its mark. Apparently, it missed by a mile, because no one even seemed to notice that I'd spoken. Mike kept glaring at Abbie, Abbie kept glaring right back at Mike, Brooke spent half of her time glaring at me and the other half at Abbie, and Mom just sat and nibbled nervously on her lower lip. Little Mac was fascinated by the whole thing, quiet for probably the first time in her life, and I wondered if it was too late to convert to Catholicism and see if there was a patron saint for the position I was in.

"I'm not quite sure that I understand exactly what you mean." Abbie's voice had reached that calm, smooth stage that I'd heard in courtrooms before, and I could only hope that no one left here crying. Particularly Mike, because that would be rather embarrassing.

"With Sam." Mike was hissing now, and I from the red flush to his face, it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine him soon sprouting horns and a forked tongue.

"Dating, sir." That one was partly mocking/partly insulting, if a reply could be a combination of the two, and it only made that little vein in Mike's temple throb more violently.

"You're taking advantage of her, is what you're doing." I was going to have to break in here somewhere, and this seemed like the best place for it.

"That's not at all true, Mike, and I don't appreciate you talking to Abbie like that." I was feeling pretty protective at this point, and for a moment I pondered just how much this scene was straight out of one of those Discovery channel shows where they go out into the wild and confront a pride of lions where everyone is circling warily in a battle for dominance.

"Oh she's not, huh. Then what do you call this morning?" Oh, he was looking affronted now, and I couldn't let him sit on that high and mighty horse for too long. For one thing, he didn't deserve it. Yeah, he might be married to my Mom and I might that think that, on average, he's a pretty cool guy, but that doesn't give him any right to act like my Father.

"I call it sex. Or actually, I call it what you get when you show up unannounced at my door at 8:00 on a Saturday morning." There were a few gasps at that one. One from Mom, one from Brooke, and maybe even one from Abbie. Guess she didn't think that I'd just come right out and say it like that. Of course, that only made Mike turn a bit redder, and I was really beginning to worry about his blood pressure. Mom hadn't said anything about a heart condition, but if he had an undiagnosed one, now would probably be the time we found out about it.

"For Chrissakes Sam, she's the same age as your mother and I. You can't tell me that she's not taking advantage of you." I could see Abbie start to rankle at that one, though whether it was from the severely wrong estimate of her age or from anger of being accused a second time of taking advantage.

"To begin with, she's only 12 years older than I am, hardly up there with you Mike." Yeah, it was a dig, but I was willing to go there at this point. "And secondly, if you'd taken the time to actually discuss this relationship with me before attacking it, maybe you'd have a much better idea of how things really are. No one is taking advantage of anyone, unless I'm taking advantage of Abbie, and I don't appreciate the implication that I'm not mature enough to be able to make competent decisions on my own, including who I choose to date. Or, who I choose to do anything else with, for that matter."

"You don't know what you're talking about Sam. You can't. You're far too young to be involved with this… this woman." I was seriously considering throwing my butter knife at him at this point. Where was a waiter when you needed one for diversion? Probably all over in the corner watching us like the soap opera I felt we were becoming.

"With all due respect, sir," Abbie had apparently decided to take over once more, "this conversation is over. I know you're only acting in Sam's best interests, and I appreciate your concern, but you can't make her decisions for her just as I can't sit here and let you malign my character any longer. Despite your best efforts, you have failed to intimidate me, or shame me, or whatever it is you were planning on doing, so in the interests of continued family harmony, I'm calling a stop to the interrogation. That doesn't mean that we can't all have a nice lunch together. All you've got to do is move off this subject, but if you can't do that then I can either leave and ya'll can have a family reunion or Sam and I can go. It doesn't matter to me." God, she's so sexy when she sounds dangerous. And she did sound dangerous right then, with her voice pitched low and her eyes narrow, letting Mike know that she meant every single word she said.

Mom, peacemaker that she was, apparently decided to make the decision for everyone.

"So, Abbie," I could feel my lover tense beside me at the words, "tell us about your job."

There was an almost imperceptible loosening of broad shoulders, and then that Texas charm was firmly in place, almost as if we hadn't just skirted the fine edge of a public spectacle a few minutes ago.

"Well, ma'am, I work as a prosecutor for the for the District Attorney's office. Mainly its just your basic stuff. Some plea bargaining, occasionally a trial or two." If she'd thrown an "Aw shucks" in there, it would have been perfect.

"Don't let her fool you, Mom." I was warming to the topic now, thoroughly enjoying an opportunity to show my lover off. "She's probably got the highest conviction rate of anyone in the office. She's a brilliant attorney."

If I wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of a blush creeping up those lean cheeks, and I couldn't help but smile at that one. Abbie certainly wasn't the shy and retiring type, and I'd never known her to blush that deeply at one of my compliments before. Usually all I got was a cocky grin, letting me know that she was fully aware of just how talented she was. After all, she said once, she'd earned it. There was a ton of hard work behind her easy acceptance of praise.

With the minor hurdle of my family's seeming inability to accept the situation behind us for the time being, lunch managed to be bearable. I'm not going to say that it was a wonderful lunch, or even a moderately enjoyable lunch, but at the very least, no one stormed out of the restaurant and no one found themselves on the wrong side of an assault and battery charge, both of which made it a successful venture in my book.

Abbie

I couldn't believe that man sat there and tried to light into me like I was someone he could control, or worse yet, talk about me like I wasn't even there. Apparently he didn't realize that I'd gone head to head with the mob, I'd dealt with serial killers who looked at me like I was lunch, and there was no way that my lover's step-father was going to intimidate me. Not that he didn't try, or at the very least try to embarrass me. And honestly, tearing into Sam like that, in the middle of a restaurant for God's sake, insulting me like I wasn't sitting at the same table… it was enough to make my blood boil. But, for the sake of everyone involved, I'd done my utmost not to lose my cool, and felt fairly confident that I'd done a good job of it. Granted, I'd reached a point where I just couldn't sit there and listen to him rant anymore and had done something to stop it, but how long did he expect me to sit there and take his crap anyway?

I hadn't really expected the defense from Sam, though I guess that it shouldn't have surprised me. After all, it only made sense that she'd be as adamant in keeping me as she had been in chasing me, and probably figured that I would've lost some respect for her if she'd simply rolled over and played dead for that little misplaced parental rant. I probably would have too, truth be told. Sure, I know it was her family and I know that sometimes its hard to go up against family, but if she hadn't said anything, then it would have been like our relationship wasn't important enough to fight for.

Listen to me now. Our relationship. I think that its just a point of semantics that I'm fighting against. After all, we've been dating for a while now, have long ago stepped things up to include a physical aspect, and I'd met her family. If all those things didn't evidence a relationship, then I don't know what did. Part of me just didn't like the restrictiveness of that term, and I guess part of me still felt a little awkward and ill at ease with the whole thing. For the longest time, I'd had my job and that was pretty much it. A few flings here and there, more a release of pressure than anything else, and an addiction to the law that made up for anything that might be lacking. Maybe I was lonely, maybe not. Sure, it was comforting to know that I had someone that I could come home to, someone that would find a way to melt away the pressures of the day, someone who was only a phone call away from filling up my apartment, but a relationship was so… so… constricting.

Sam certainly wasn't who I would have pictured myself with if I had pictured myself in a relationship either. Twelve years younger than me, with less than no interest in what made up my life's work beyond a willingness to listen to me talk about it for hours on end. Sure, she was gorgeous, sure she was smart, sure she could make me laugh, but did all that add up to overcome our differences?

What was my type, anyway? I'd never understood how people went about developing those, and didn't have anything more spring to mind when I tried to ascertain mine than an amorphous list of random physical descriptors and a litany of qualities. All I did know was that here, having turned my anger over the encounter at lunch into a long afternoon of much more fulfilling activities with her, I seemed oddly content.

Long chestnut hair teased the skin of the arm I had draped around her back, pulling her in closer to me, silky skin pressed along my belly, and the comforting weight of her thigh over mine told me why my body was happy. My mind, however, was a puzzle onto itself, one that even I really didn't know how to unravel.

"I'm not sure your family liked me." I said the words lightly, letting her know that I wasn't opening things up for some serious heart-to-heart. All I wanted was just to chat, really.

"Yeah, well, I'm not quite sure that we effected the best introduction possible. Maybe if they'd met you fully clothed it might have been better." She was shifting in my arms, pulling away presumably so that she could see me as we talked, and I had to resist the urge to pull her head back down, already missing the warm tease of her breath against my neck.

"Your Mom seemed to adapt well, and your sister didn't seem at all phased. Well, the younger one didn't. The older one didn't like me at all. More than Mike, I think." That had bothered me. I could understand misplaced fatherly-type outrage, but what had I ever done to the blonde.

"Oh. Well, I don't think that was your fault really." Something in Sam's tone told me that she was attempting to evade something. It was a really bad move on her part, because she was a horrible liar. That quality extended to peremptorily preparing to lie, which I got the feeling she was doing now. Or, at the very least, she was trying to be so vague as to not arouse suspicion, something which inevitably always failed.

"Whose fault was it?" I could feel her squirming uncomfortably against me, a sure sign that this was a story I wanted to hear.

"Probably mine. We didn't part ways on the best of terms. Mac sure was cute, wasn't she. She's grown so much since the last time I saw her." This was definitely a story that I wanted to hear. Now she'd gone from covert evasions to badly orchestrated overt ones. Knowing that pulling whatever she was hiding out of her would be more easily accomplished if I could look in her eyes, I pulled back, rolling onto my side. Once propped up on my elbow, I had a great view of her wide, Bambi-esque expression.

"You never told me that you and your step-sister weren't getting along. From the impression I got, you two had worked through any differences that you had." I was beginning to see panic, and wondered just what she hadn't told me. What the hell kind of argument could they have had?

"Its just that… Ah, we were getting along better. I mean, we'd certainly started… it just didn't at all end well," she finished lamely, and I could feel one of my brows shooting skyward, an automatic response to the gibberish I'd just been fed.

"You're keeping something from me." A long time ago, I'd learned that simple was better. Elaborate threats or entreaties weren't nearly as effective as letting someone's psyche work on itself. Guilt, shame, embarrassment… all of those things could break down someone's walls far more effectively than I could.

"We used to date." The words came out so quickly that I almost didn't understand what she was saying. Then it hit me. Date? Whoa, back the horses up a bit here. Didn't she just say that she used to date the blonde? I was vaguely aware, through my shock, that she was still talking, and in an attempt not to lose this particular thread of conversation, I mentally rushed to piece together the little bit that I'd missed. "Well, not date really. I'm not sure what it was. All I know is that one minute we were arguing like we always did, and the next minute we're sleeping together. It just happened, you know, and later she told me that she loved me and I think that I loved her too, but I didn't ever really tell her. Not because I didn't, but because I was afraid. Not afraid that people would find out, necessarily, just afraid that she didn't mean what she said, and that if I told her that I loved her too then it would just ruin things. But then it didn't matter because she started pulling away from me. Not all at once, you know, but just little things that let me know that she was planning on leaving. Like, she stopped kissing me when we… well, you know."

"That's what really let me know because you can have sex with someone without it being intimate, and its so much easier to do that if you don't kiss them because sometimes kissing seems more intimate than sex. Why would she want to minimize the intimacy between us if she wasn't trying to figure a way out? Anyway, it turned out that I was right, and she told me that she wanted to end things. We didn't have a fight about it really, just stopped talking to one another at all, and then I moved to New York so it didn't matter that we didn't talk. Sure, I see her when I go home for the holidays or for a visit, but we just don't really talk. Not like we did before. Now its more like we're strangers, or acquaintances, which probably hurts more than the fact that she left me. I mean, we were at least friends before, and if I'd known that sex was going to mess that up then I wouldn't have allowed it to happen. Not that I'm not glad, in some ways, that she was my first lover. At least it helped me clarify a few things in my mind, and it had to be better than some meaningless one night stand, which is what probably would have happened if Brooke and I hadn't… gotten together."

She paused, panting slightly from having run through the story on pretty much just one breath, and I knew she was looking at me expectantly, but there wasn't anything that I could say. I felt… jealous. Yeah, that's right, jealous that the little blonde bitch had been Sam's first lover. Why hadn't I known that before? Weren't people supposed to talk about these things? Somewhere along the line, shouldn't that have come up in the conversation? But maybe that was my fault, because I couldn't remember ever asking. In fact, I couldn't remember ever wondering, which didn't reflect well on me. I should remember to do things like that, should be interested in Sam's history. I was interested, damn it, its just that sometimes I forgot about things.

At least now I knew why Brooke had been sending death glares my way all day. Maybe things weren't like Sam had imagined. Maybe the blonde hadn't really wanted to end things but had done so because she felt like she had to. If Sam hadn't told her that she was in love with her as well, it might have been a move to force the brunette's hand, though it was one that obviously didn't work. And what was with Sam saying that she loved her too? How could she love her if she didn't tell her? I mean, she'd even told me that, though I doubted she remembered the words she'd mumbled before dropping off to sleep. I hadn't said them back though. God, I didn't even know what I felt about this whole thing, let alone whether or not I loved the girl, and wasn't about to return a sentiment when it was merely empty words. Of course, she hadn't really said those words to me. She'd been half asleep at the time. Trapped in the early stages of a dream, she could have been talking to anyone. I mean, she did talk in her sleep. What if she was telling a dream Brooke that she loved her?

"Abbie?" The hesitant tone of her voice broke through my mental wanderings. One look at her face let me know that she was worried about my reaction, and I tried to smile, to comfort her.

"How do you feel about her now?" I hoped my tone of voice sounded normal, because I was trying really hard to be calm about this, to not let it bother me. Actually, at this point I'd probably be lucky to just hide the fact that I was letting the thought of them together burn through me, instantly kicking me into my mental 'bitch from Hell' mode. Coming on the heels of the day I'd had though, it was hard. Not only is it the first time I'd ever met her family, but I'd been severely disapproved of by one member while another had not only slept with and professed to love my girlfriend but was arguably not at all over her. No, I was not happy about this. Not happy at all.

"Who? Brooke?" That beautiful brow was scrunched up in confusion, as if it weren't a perfectly normal question.

"Yeah, Brooke. Unless you've got other step-sisters out there that you've been sleeping with as well." Okay, that was a little harsh. Can you blame me though? A little agitation was certainly to be expected.

"I don't really think about it too much. That was a long time ago." I think she got a little angry with me after that last remark, but I couldn't help my tone. This all was very… disturbing.

"Why didn't you tell me about it? I mean, didn't it seem like something that you should tell me about?" Sometimes, when I got really angry or confused or upset, I just said exactly what was on my mind. There was no screening my words for content, no filtering out of any potentially harmful material, just thought flowing straight from the animal part of my brain to my mouth unchecked. That's what this was, a mixture of confusion and aggression and anger and I couldn't do a thing to stop it.

"For one thing, you never asked." She was definitely getting angry now too. With a quick move Sam had pulled completely away from me, rolling into a sitting position beside me in the bed and pulling the cover up to cover her bare skin. "Besides, its just not one of those stories that's easy to tell, you know. You tell people that you used to sleep with your step-sister and they look at you like you're a potential candidate for the Jerry Springer show. There wasn't anything wrong with it. Its not incestuous, its not dirty, its not bad, but people's initial reaction is… well, like yours. Either they're outraged or disgusted or they're a combination of the two, so I figured that it was best to just forego it completely."

How to tell her that I didn't give a damn about the familial aspect of it? All that kept racing through my head was that she hadn't told me about it, hadn't told me the story of her first love, or first lover, or whatever it was that Brooke was, and that she probably never would have if I hadn't stumbled across her uneasiness and literally pulled it from her. Outrage and disgust didn't figure into the morass of ugly emotions swimming through my head at the moment since jealousy was up there at the front, leading the pack. But telling her that I was jealous seemed to denote something I didn't want to say, was a statement that I didn't feel ready to make.

"Its not that," I said finally, knowing that if I didn't speak up in the next few moments, she was liable to cut and run, which wasn't going to help matters at all. "I was just surprised, and a little hurt that you hadn't told me about her before."

There, that sounded better. Hurt was preferable to jealous in my opinion, and I selfishly acknowledged that it would do more to engender guilt in her, which I preferred to any satisfaction that she might have gotten from knowing I was jealous. So yeah, I can be an evil bitch like that, but self-preservation is the name of the game, especially when I'm not feeling too sure of myself. Or, at least, it's the name of mine.

"Oh please, Abbie. You don't hardly know a thing about my past that I haven't volunteered. You rarely ask, don't even really seem to care sometimes, so why should I have mentioned it before?" Uh-oh. This was bad. It had all the makings of a discussion that I didn't want to have, mainly because I didn't really have a defense. She was right, and I'd just realized that, which meant that I hadn't had any time to rectify the situation.

"I do care." I protested, it being the best thing that I could come up with at the moment.

"Maybe you do, Abbie," her voice was tinged with sadness, and as I watched her roll out of bed, gathering together her clothes with slow movements, I knew this wasn't going to end well for me. "You care as much as you can, I guess, but I don't really know if that's enough anymore. Maybe I can only let myself come in second for just so long before I decide I've had enough, and right now feels like one of those times where I can't. I realize that you've got a demanding job and that I shouldn't expect for you to be able to drop everything and rush over every time I need you or to expect nearly as much time on your calendar as you devote to whatever project you're wrapped up in at the moment, but I just realized that when I do have you, I want all of you. That means that I want someone who's interested enough in me to ask the questions I never noticed you don't really ask."

I was at a loss for words, which might have been a first. She couldn't leave me. That wasn't the way the world worked. If anyone left anyone in this relationship, it would be me leaving her, and I wasn't ready to do that. After all, she'd been the one to pursue me. She'd known how I was, so it wasn't as if she could claim to be surprised that I was a bit goal-oriented, that I had a tendency to focus on my work. But I was interested in her, really I was. Hadn't she lasted longer than anyone else had in a long, long time? Didn't she understand that made her different?

"I think that we should give it a break for a little while, take some time to think some things through." She loved me, didn't she? She wouldn't leave me if she really loved me?

"I don't want to take some time." It took a lot of effort to force those words through the mass of emotions clogging up my throat.

"Its not always about what you want. This is best for me, Abbie." She was completely dressed now, and I felt suddenly vulnerable in my nakedness. I'd never noticed how cold her eyes could be, or how her lips could compress into a cruel line, or how distant she could seem even though she was only standing a few feet away. Maybe its because she hadn't ever looked that way before, because she'd been content with things the way they were. Maybe I'd never really seen her as an equal half of this couple until this very moment, and suddenly I was at a distinct loss.

"Don't leave me." I didn't beg, I refused to beg, but I'd let her know, as best I could, how I felt about this.

"I'll call you later, and we'll talk." Was this really the same Sam that I'd gone to lunch with, the one who had defended me to her step-father, who'd been unashamed to admit that we were together? Oh God, what if it wasn't that she wanted to leave me so much as she wanted someone else more. Brooke was here, in town, and maybe seeing her again had brought back old memories. Maybe those old memories were better than the ones that we'd made together, and she'd compared me to the blonde and found me lacking. I couldn't picture that, my natural egotism making the idea foreign to me, but what else was there to explain it? Sam just wasn't like this. She didn't leave me. But she did, and she had, because I realized that my bedroom was empty. The soft snick of the front door let me know that the apartment was now empty as well, and I fell back on the bed with a long sigh, not quite sure what to do now.

Sam

I couldn't believe that I'd walked out of there like that. Right now, I couldn't decide if it was a spur of the moment thing, something that I should rush back and apologize for so that I could stop feeling this hollow emptiness in my chest, or whether it was something that had been building for a long time. I hadn't been lying when I said that Abbie cared for me as much as she could, but the sudden realization that her best might not be good enough had hit with the force of a ton of bricks. She should have known about Brooke because I should have had a reason to tell her before. That should have been a question that I answered a long time ago. But, even thinking that, I realized that I wouldn't be able to tell anyone who her first lover had been. As much as she didn't ask questions, her very nature seemed to discourage people from asking them of her.

Suddenly everything seemed so very vacuous. Our relationship was full of tales of our individual days and, as of recently, shared nights, but little more beyond that than those few things that even acquaintances would know about one another. I'd listened to her talk about her case load and learned more about the New York State Penal Code and how it was interpreted than I had ever even contemplated wanting to know, but I didn't know her parents' names. I think she'd mentioned a brother once, though she hadn't really elaborated, and I still didn't know the real reason why she left Texas to come here. She was remarkably close-mouthed when it came to talking about her past, and suddenly that realization sent a pang of hurt through me. Other than funny stories or gripes about her coworkers or her days, I didn't know her.

She probably knew a little bit more than that about me, but that was mainly because I had a tendency to babble. Wasn't there something wrong with that? Shouldn't I know more about her than her views on current policies and her thoughts on the apparent direction of the criminal justice system. I guess I could name her favorite food, or maybe make a pretty valid attempt at figuring out her favorite color, but by this point in our relationship, shouldn't those things be second nature to me? I mean, we'd been together months now. Damn it, I should be able to walk into a Chinese restaurant and be able to order for her without fear of getting something she wouldn't like, but at the moment, I didn't even feel confident in my ability to do that simple task.

Had I let myself be led on by a beautiful face, a quick wit, and an even sharper brain to the point that I forgot to look deeper, to see the person beneath? Even though I'd alluded to as much not five minutes ago in her room, I couldn't bring myself to believe it. Surely I couldn't feel the way I felt about her if there wasn't something solid to back it up. And how did I feel about her? My mind and my heart told me that I loved her, and if those two things were acting in concert, then it had to be true, didn't it?

Suddenly, I desperately wished that I had someone to talk to about this, but no one sprang to mind. Yeah, my folks were in town, but judging from the fact that my mother had spent the entire afternoon trying not to simply gape at us in confusion, I figured that she was out. Mike… no further thought was even necessary in regards to that asinine idea. What about Brooke? Absolutely not. We just didn't have a relationship that allowed for emotional heart-to-hearts anymore, and there was just something fundamentally wrong in discussing a current flame with an ex one. It was cruel, no matter what your current relationship with said ex was because it would inevitably drag up some memories about the two of you that were just better off left buried. Besides, it wasn't like we'd even been on speaking terms for about five years anyway. Well, not beyond the fascinating discussion of which nuts in the mixed nut mixture were best that seemed to pop up every Christmas. Almonds be damned, it was the macadamia nuts, and anyone with half a brain knew that.

There weren't really any other friends. Other than the occasional girlfriend down through the years, I just hadn't collected many of those. It seemed that I was always busy or just didn't want to take the effort, which left me with the horribly empty feeling that always comes when you desperately want to talk to someone but know that there's just not anyone to call. Maybe a week ago I'd have called Abbie, knowing that she would cheer me up if nothing else. It was hard to feel sorry for myself with that explosive personality around.

So, without anything better to do, I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me to ward off the cold and started walking in the direction of the office. There was always something to do there, and I hadn't been putting in as much time at the paper lately as I could have. Time with Abbie had seemed much more important than 16 hour days, but with that kind of attitude, I wasn't going to make it anywhere in this business. I'd tried a relationship, and it was floundering. Maybe that meant that I needed to pick some other aspect of my life, clean it up, and take pride in it. Work was the perfect target for any sudden strong urges to prove myself that I was feeling.

Abbie

I'd been moving around the office like a zombie all week. It was getting so bad that I was sure that even Jack had noticed it, which might explain why he was darkening my doorstep, standing awkwardly just inside the frame. He was wearing jeans, and his hands were shoved in the pockets as he looked from the floor to me and back again, and I wondered just how long it would take him to get up the nerve to say whatever it was that was on his mind. Had he known that I could see him clearly in the reflection of my computer monitor, he might have spoken up instead of looking at me like a little boy about to be chastised, but I was equally as sure that I wasn't going to like whatever conversation followed so I certainly wasn't going to let him know I knew he was there.

"How are you doing, Abbie?" Dammit, it appeared that he'd worked up the guts to break the silence. With a sigh, I spun around in my chair, pushing my reading glasses up on top of my head, taking any errant strands of hair with them.

"I'm alright, Jack. And you?" Maybe if I played this cool he'd leave. As if the nosy little bastard would do that, I thought with a hint of affection.

"I'm doing well. You've just seemed a little… I don't know… down lately." His adam's apple was bobbing and the look on his face led me to believe that he might just rather be having his back waxed right now than be holding this conversation with me.

"Thanks for your concern." Polite, perfunctory responses were no doubt only going to hold out for so long, but I could always try.

"So, how are things going with Sam?" He gave me a crooked little smile, probably to let me know that he wasn't planning on launching into a bout of teasing, and apparently something inside me, no doubt my ability to reason, snapped at seeing it.

"I think she might have left me." Certainly I didn't mean to tell him that, did I? It was inviting him to delve into my personal life much farther than I could ever have wanted.

"You think? You mean you don't know?" Shaggy brows scrunched together, and with a sigh I gave up the fight.

"She said that she needed a break." I wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or bitterness in my voice, but either way, it wasn't a good thing. "Said that she had no doubt that I cared for her as much as I could, but that it just wasn't enough right now."

"Oh." Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Honestly, was I looking from relationship tips from Jack McCoy? I was fairly certain that even Dr. Laura would have been able to do a better job than him.

"So yeah. That's been bothering me a little." Liar. Its been bothering you a lot. Is it that you miss her or that you're embarrassed that she'd leave you? I asked myself wryly, but the only answer I got was that nagging little mental voice that told me that I already knew the answer to that question. I missed her, despite the internal barriers that I'd erected to keep myself from doing so.

"And you're just going to leave things like that?" He was looking at me like he wasn't sure that I hadn't been abducted by aliens and replaced with an inferior clone, and I squirmed uncomfortably. "If you want her, Abbie, you should go after her. I don't think that I've ever seen you back down from something that you want. Or, are you happy with this break?"

"No, I'm not happy," I shot back, brows lowering in anger. But, I wasn't really angry at him so much as I was angry at myself, so with a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down.

"Then why are you here?" He was looking at me as if I should be bolting out of my chair at the words, but what did he expect me to do?

"I'm giving her a break. You know, like the one she said she wanted." Because if she was angry enough with me to leave, then wouldn't she be angry if I intruded on her when she didn't want to see me. Apparently Jack didn't think so, because from the look I was getting now, it was clear that he thought I was a few shades shy of idiot.

"Don't you know anything about women?" My eyebrows nearly shot off my forehead at that one.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a woman Jack. So, I feel pretty sure that I can safely say I know a little bit about them." What the hell did he mean by that?

"Not women in relationships you don't. If you don't go after her, I can guarantee you that you'll lose her for good. She doesn't want a break. She wants you to convince her that she should stay, and if you leave her alone to sit and think about all the reasons why she shouldn't take you back, if you let her have enough time to compile a list of all the things about you that make the relationship a bad idea, then that'll be it. Give her enough time alone with her doubts and you doing nothing to assuage them, and she'll talk herself into believing that the break should be a permanent one." Well, that was certainly an unsettling thought, and made far more sense than I would have expected from my co-worker. For a moment, I was tempted to ask him if he subscribed to Cosmo, but figured that now wasn't the best time to tease. After all, I had a lot of thinking to do, and I needed him to leave so that I could go ahead and get started with it.

"Well then, Dr. Relationship, what would you suggest?" Hell, he might be on a roll here. It certainly didn't hurt to ask.

"At the very least call her. But, you understand, that's a bare minimum type attempt. If you're really serious about this, then you're going to need to do something. Go see her, tell her how you feel, come up with some wildly romantic gesture that'll help her forget just how ticked off at you she was when she left. Just so long as you don't sit here and do nothing or don't say something stupid when you do say something, then there's a much better chance that this'll all work out." He was nodding sagely, like he was the damned Buddha passing out advice to his disciples, and I'd decided that Jack McCoy advice time was over.

"Thanks for your input, Jack," I said sharply, clearly dismissing him. He shot me a smirk, immediately recognizing the tone, and started backing out of my office.

"No problem. Just don't screw it up," he threw back over his shoulder, turning to scamper out of my range of sight. I didn't have any desire to chase him down and verbally rip him to shreds for it though. There were bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Sam

It'd been over a week, and I was exhausted. After throwing myself into work for as long as I could until my body demanded that I take a break and return to my apartment for a respite, I'd be up and at it again. As long as I could do something else, whether it was proof copy or chase down quotes from reluctant sources, then I didn't have to think about Abbie. Or, actually, I didn't have to think about the fact that she hadn't called, hadn't made any attempt to see me.

Part of me knew that it would have been expecting too much of her. She just wasn't built that way, didn't recognize what I needed from her, and wasn't equipped to give me enough to satisfy that part of me that had taken affront that night in her bedroom. Abbie was Abbie, and she didn't realize that she could be doing more. It just wasn't in her make-up, and really wasn't something that I should have expected from her. I knew how she was, knew how she worked, and she just simply wasn't the overly romantic type. She had fallen into a comfortable rhythm with me, probably mainly because I'd allowed it, and it hadn't ever occurred to her that I'd ever want anything more.

Which led me back to a question that had been bothering me for a while now. What exactly did I want? Had I simply overreacted to the stress of seeing my parents and Brooke? Had I taken all of the emotions stemming from that confrontation and shifted them to her? So she'd never asked me about Brooke. If it was so damn important, I could have told her. It wasn't as if she ever looked bored when I talked about my past… she just didn't initiate many conversations about it. Was it really necessary for me to know every little thing about her and vice versa? Wasn't it enough that she wanted to be with me now? Or, I should say, had wanted to be with me.

Feeling my shoulders slump, partly from the fear that I'd made a mistake and partly because I was bone tired, I threw my coat at a chair, vaguely aware that it slumped off the side of the piece of furniture, landing in a haphazard pile on the floor. Bed was singing a siren's song in my ear, and with a groan, I started shedding clothes on my way to it. A knock at the door stopped me short, though, and feeling the beginnings of a headache settle behind my eyes, I stopped in my tracks. It was probably someone trying to sell me something, which I so desperately didn't want right now. A look through the peekhole stole my breath though, as familiar dark eyes stared back at me expectantly, even though I was somehow aware that they didn't really see me.

"Abbie?" I opened the door slightly, suddenly aware that I was holding my unbuttoned shirt together in front of me and hastily moved to rebutton the garment.

"Uh, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Did she really think that I was in here with something, not one week after I'd walked out of her bedroom?

"No, I just got in from work…" I trailed off, my mind racing to catch up with the fact that she was here. No matter how much mental time I might have devoted to a scene such as this, dreaming that she might appear on my doorstep, I'd never actually thought that it might happen.

"Can I come in?" I nodded my head dumbly, vaguely aware that if she hadn't mentioned it, I might have left her standing out in the hallway all night. Her appearance had definitely thrown me for a loop, and I was struggling to catch up.

"Can I get you something to drink?" There, that was better. At the very least, I sounded confident when I said it, even if it felt odd to be extending this social nicety to her as if we were strangers.

"No. I'd rather just talk, if you don't mind. No putting it off, just talk." That didn't sound good. No, it didn't sound good at all, and suddenly I felt the urge to jump up, to run to the kitchen and fix myself a tall glass of something simply to delay whatever it was that she wanted to talk about.

"About what?" The words came out of my dry throat as a croak, and I felt myself blush a bit.

"About us, about what you said before." This was it. My stomach tightened and I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself not to cry in front of her. To add that to her kiss-off would only multiply my embarrassment tenfold.

"Okay." It was all I could manage at the moment, but it didn't seem to faze Abbie. Taking a deep breath, she continued on.

"I've been giving a lot of thought to what you said." For the first time, I noticed the slight tremor in her voice, and it scared me. Tremors couldn't indicate anything that I was going to want to hear. "You were right, you know. I should have asked, should have known that story months ago. I don't do the things I'm supposed to, don't ask the questions that I should, and that's not fair to you."

I nodded, unsure what kind of response I was supposed to give, but certain from the pleading dark eyes turned my way that she wanted some type of input from me.

"When you told me that you wanted a break, wanted some time to yourself, I was fully prepared to give that to you. But, the more time passed, the more I became sure that you were going to leave me for good if I didn't do something. So, I'm sorry that I didn't wait for you to call me, but I just couldn't let you leave without telling you how much I don't want that to happen. I care for you, probably more than I've ever cared for anyone, and I don't think I could stand it if you said you didn't want me in your life anymore."

I could feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. It wasn't at all what I'd expected to hear from her, and probably as close to a declaration of love as she was able to give at the moment. The thought that she'd even said that much, especially after months of hiding any substantial show of emotions, moved me more than I could have admitted. Love wasn't something that she was comfortable with, though a quick glance at eyes that seemed so suddenly vulnerable told me that it was what she was feeling. I could live with that, knowing that she'd eventually overcome her fear, just so long as I knew the emotion was there.

"I feel the same way," I replied softly, seeing the sudden rush of relief flood her face.

"I was hoping you'd say that." She looked almost girlish, even giddy, and I couldn't help but smirk at the uncharacteristic response. Catching sight of it, she glowered, but the effect was ruined by the small smile still teasing at her lips.

"I, uh, wanted to give you this. If you want to take it, that is." Her palm was suddenly upturned before me, a shiny silver key resting in the middle of it, and I looked up at her, a bit shocked. This was a big step for her, I knew, giving me free rein over her personal sanctum.

"A key?" I don't know why I felt the need to question her, but I needed to know that it was for real.

"Yeah. I want you to use it whenever you want, just to see if you like the feel. And, if you do, then maybe you'd like to make it your primary one." It took me a minute to make my way through the vagueness of that statement, but after a second it hit me.

"Are you asking me to move in with you?" Frankly, I was shocked. It wasn't something that I had contemplated. Well, maybe I'd given it thought, but I hadn't actually expected it, and certainly hadn't expected it now.

"Kinda." She was blushing, which I found absolutely enchanting, though she refused to lower her eyes from mine and hide it. "I don't want to pressure you, but if you think its something that you'd like, then yes. I would…" she paused to clear her throat, "I would like it if you were there."

I didn't even have to think about it. Hell yes I wanted to take this key and throw mine into the East River, but I wasn't going to rush things. Her offer of time for me was clearly just as much for her to have a period of acclimation, and I could respect that. Maybe I'd give it a week of so, but after that, she'd better get used to seeing my toothbrush next to hers… permanently. Suddenly, with that thought, I realized that I didn't want to hide my feelings anymore. If she'd made this kind of an effort, then the least I could do would be to bare a little bit of my soul.

"Abbie… I'm in love with you." There, I'd said it. The way her jaw dropped open let me know that she hadn't been expecting it, but the strong arms that nearly tackled me back into the couch at the words let me know that they weren't unwelcome.

"Sam," she whispered, placing light kisses on my lips, my chin. "I… I…"

I put a finger to her lips, stalling the obviously painful attempt that she was trying to make.

"Shh, I understand." And I did. Like I said before, it was enough to know it was there. We were going to make it, and for now, that knowledge was more than enough.

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