Special

Author: Geonn

Pairing: Sam/Janet

Spoilers: "Moebius," for the existence of the universe in question. Oh, and one dream sequence. But otherwise, nada.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. But mannnn, if they were...?

Note: This is set in the universe established during "Moebius." It does not, however, take place *during* that episode. It takes place, at most, several years before the events in that episode. Just so everyone understands. *grins*

Rating: Mature

Summary: A trip to the ER leads to the most adventurous thing she's ever done.

Sam stood patiently between the little old lady holding knitting needles and the man in the suit who was tapping his foot against the sharp tile. Nurses swarmed, a doctor or two occasionally made an appearance and more than once a cop rushed in through the sliding glass doors and made a bee-line down the corridor. Sam sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, letting go of her right wrist long enough to push her glasses back into place.

A nurse finally appeared in front of the admissions desk and Sam started to speak. The businessman interrupted her. "Excuse me, I need to see someone immediately. I'm on a very tight schedule and this madhouse has--"

Sam sank back away from the man, deciding not to press that fact that she'd been there longer. She turned, looking at the doors as a means of escape. Her wrist didn't hurt that bad, after all. Maybe she could tough it out... She bent her hand forward and almost cried out at the pain, biting her bottom lip to hold it in.

"Excuse me," a gentle voice asked from behind her. She turned, lips parting at the sight of the beautiful nurse standing behind her. "Have you been helped?"

"I... no," Sam said. "I was... it's not that bad."

The nurse took Sam's hand, a thumb and forefinger on each side of the palm. She squeezed gently, then tilted Sam's hand down. Sam made a weak whimper, closing her eyes behind her glasses and tensing up. "Ow. Sorry."

The nurse smiled. "That's okay. Come on, I'll help you over here."

"I still need my admissions forms and..."

"That's not necessary. I'll just fix you up right over here and you'll be on your way."

She guided Sam to a bed, helping her up and then taking a seat next to it. Sam swung her legs over the edge, feeling ridiculous. Like a little girl being tended to by momma. "What's your name?" the nurse asked, gently probing the wounded wrist.

"Samantha. Um, Sam."

"Hi, Sam," the nurse said with a smile. "I'm Nurse Fraiser. Janet. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam." She rolled her chair to one side, pulling open a drawer and returning with some gauze. "I think you just sprained it. We'll get this sucker wrapped up and you'll be good to go."

She began wrapping Sam's wrist, making sure to be gentle with her movements. Sam watched, mesmerized, as the woman wound the gauze around her hand and pulled it tight, securing the wrist without causing more pain than necessary. "You're really good at that," Sam said quietly.

"Thank you," Janet replied, winking at Sam. "Be sure to leave a dollar in the tip jar if you're satisfied with my performance."

"Tip j... oh," Sam said, smiling nervously.

Janet smoothed down the gauze and said, "So how'd you manage to hurt yourself?"

Sam recalled stepping out of her car onto the icy pavement, falling backwards and catching herself with the heel of her hand. It was stupid, clumsy and, worst of all, it made her feel ridiculous. She cleared her throat. "A guy grabbed my purse and I ran after him." She motioned at the door. "I slipped on some ice."

"Oh, wow," Janet said, eyes widening. "Did you manage to get him?"

Sam blushed. "I... well, h-he dumped the purse in a... dumpster." She yelled at herself in her mind, praying for this humiliation to be over. "He took my cash and... credit cards."

"Well, still! Good for you, Wonder Woman!" She started to laugh, then said, "Oh, no... he took everything? You... don't have any money?"

"Oh!" Sam said, realizing the other trap she'd just walked into. "N-no, it's no problem. I can pay for this, I have money in the... uh, in the ATM. At t-the bank."

"No," Janet said, standing up. "You're hurt, you got robbed this morning... It's on me."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly..."

"Consider it an early Christmas gift," Janet said.

Sam blinked. "Oh. Right. It's... December."

"Didn't the ice give it away?" Janet asked, nudging Sam's shoulder playfully.

"No, I just didn't... I don't... there's not a lot of celebrating when you live alone. I've tuned out the celebrations."

Janet's apparently trademarked smile faltered. "Sam, you're breaking my heart over here."

Inspiration struck. "Take me to lunch."

It was Janet's turn to be shocked. "What?"

"Take me to lunch. I'll... I'll pay, to make up for you paying here. I can stop at the bank on the way, buy you lunch. It can... be my Christmas gift from you." She closed her eyes. 'God, how stupid must I sound? What an idiot she must think I--'

"Sam, that is the most wonderful offer I've had all damned month." Sam looked up and saw that Janet seemed to be genuinely touched. "I'd love to go to lunch with you. My break is at 11:15."

Sam felt herself grinning. It was an alien feeling, but she thought she'd be able to get used to it.

---

"Where were you?"

Janet jumped and looked into the darkened kitchen. His cigarette was burning from one of the seats, revealing his position to her. "What are you talking about? I was at work. Twelve hour shift, remem--"

"On your break," he interrupted, clipping the end of each word. He rose, leaving his cigarette in the ashtray. He walked to the doorway, reaching up and resting his hands on the top of the door frame. It was a subtle reminder of how much bigger than her he was. "Where were you on your break?"

"I-I went to... lunch. Out. At a café."

"With Dr. Erickson?"

"No," Janet said, putting her purse down. "I... there was... no one. I went by myself."

"Checked the balance at the bank, too. Saw that you bought something pretty damn expensive at about nine this morning."

"There was a patient who couldn't afford her care. She'd been mugged and--"

He interrupted her with his hand this time, stopping her excuse. She put a hand to her now-stinging cheek and closed her eyes. "Where were you on your break?"

"A café," Janet replied. "I swear, I wasn't with anyone."

He grabbed a handful of her blouse, lifting her onto the couch and reaching down to undo the belt of her jacket. "Let's just take a look at the evidence..."

"No," Janet whispered. He clapped his hand across her cheek, open-palmed, making her cry out as he wrenched her scrub bottoms down.

---

Just after three in the morning, Janet limped into the kitchen. She was still wearing her scrubs because they were easy to pull on. She felt ripped apart, shredded, her entire body aching. She pulled a bottle of water from the freezer, carrying it to the dining room table and easing herself into her chair. She pressed the cool side of the bottle against her inner thigh, gasping at the sensation. She closed her eyes, hoping the icy water would do the trick and ease the pain enough for her to sleep.

She had to get up early in the morning. Working in the ER, she knew how to cover the bruises so that no one asked questions.

After all this time, she was an expert at hiding the bruises.

---

Just after three in the morning, Sam was still awake. Her glasses were on the bedside table, staring over at her as if asking "what the hell were you thinking this morning?" She never asked people out. No one ever asked her out. To be out on a date with another woman... what the hell had she been thinking? Nurse Fraiser... Janet... cancelled all reason out. She was who she was, reasoning not required.

In the darkness, Sam touched her wrapped wrist.

It would feel as good if anyone else had wrapped it, probably.

Probably.

---

Two weeks later, Sam was in a diner staring at her fifth cup of coffee and trying to get up the courage to go into work. She loved what she did; it was the men above her and on all sides that kept flowing like a river up the ladder past her. She didn't mind sharing the glory... sharing being the operative word. She just wanted... she needed something more. She just couldn't imagine what that could possibly be.

Pulling her wallet from the pocket of her sweater, she counted out enough for her bill and a generous tip. She was slipping the leather billfold back when a voice just beyond the booth said, "You're not carrying a purse."

She jumped, eyes wide, turning to face the intruder. Nurse Janet Fraiser held her hands up in defense, pulling back and smiling. "Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't!" Sam said. "I... was just... what about a purse?"

"I saw you get your wallet out of your sweater. Are you not carrying a purse any more?"

Sam suddenly remembered her purse-snatcher lie. "Oh. Yeah. No. I'm... No, I'm not."

"May I?" Janet asked, taking the seat across from Sam. "Hon, you have to get over this. Muggings happen all the time. You got off lucky."

Sam wanted to beg, plead with this beauty not to see her as a victim. But how, without sounding like a wimp? Or worse, a liar? She adjusted her glasses and said, "I know. It's just... ah, I feel safer. Like this."

Janet nodded knowingly and said, "Well, if you weren't on your way out, I'd ask you to join me..."

"Yes!" Sam snapped, a little too eagerly. She backed down, pressing herself against the vinyl of the booth and wishing she could absorb herself into it. "I-I mean... I don't have anywhere to be. I'd love to have... lunch with you again. My treat this time," she insisted.

Janet shrugged. "Hey, I'm not going to argue free food."

---

They stepped out of the diner and into the cold late December air. Janet looked down as Sam pulled on her gloves, taking her hand and pushing the sleeve up slightly. "I've been meaning to ask. How's the wrist?"

"Back to normal," Sam reported. "You did an excellent job on it."

Janet grinned proudly. "Well, I'm glad to hear it!"

"You didn't get in trouble for... for letting me skip out on the bill, are you?"

"No, of course not!" Janet laughed. She tucked her hands deep into her pockets and said, "Do you come to this diner often?"

"Every now and again."

"Maybe we could make this a regular thing... you and me and lunch."

Sam grinned, inordinately pleased at the idea of regular lunches with this woman. "Wow. Um... y-yeah, I'd... really like that."

"Great! I'll see you... when, tomorrow?"

Sam could only nod.

---

A week later, it was Christmas. Sam sat in the diner, even though it was her day off, and nervously watched the sidewalk for signs of Janet. She wasn't even sure that the nurse was working, not sure if she was just wasting a holiday in a deserted diner, working on her third cup of coffee, kicking herself for being so needy.

She paid her bill, standing and catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar. She almost cringed; her hair was wet from snow, her glasses askew on her nose. She was wearing yet another shapeless sweater, an ankle-length dress with little yellow flowers above her right shoe. And loafers. Who in their right freaking mind wore loafers?

Cursing herself, feeling wetness at the corner of her eye, she hurried from the diner, shaking her head at what a fool she'd been.

Fifteen minutes later, the diner door swung open and Janet stepped inside, looking frantically at the empty booths. Her heart sunk and she dropped into the nearest booth. Of course Sam wouldn't show up on Christmas day. She had a family, she had obligations. Janet had just barely managed to get away from her husband on their shopping expedition, now she'd likely have to face his wrath for running off.

She closed her eyes, steeling herself for that confrontation, and stood up. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the counter and realized how Sam always saw her; over-tired, harried, wearing the same set of scrubs day in and day out. She reached up, touching her hair and wishing there was some way she could improve on the style.

An ache formed in her chest, an ache that came from the knowledge she and Sam would remain only friends. She blinked her eyes rapidly, smiled apologetically at the waitress behind the counter and slipped out into the snow.

---

Sam changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting in her armchair and drawing her knees to her chest. She dialed the number of her father's place, praying he was too busy to--

"Carter residence."

"Hi, Dad."

"Sam," came the simple reply.

She rolled her eyes and repeated, "Hi, Dad. Merry Christmas."

"For another few hours, yeah," he said. "Did you get my package?"

"No..."

"Well, maybe Monday."

She stifled a sob, looking at the snow blowing against the window. "Maybe," she managed. "How's Mark?"

"I haven't talked to Mark today."

She looked down at her hands. "I'm... sort of seeing someone," she said, feeling it as a lie even as she said it.

"Sort of? How are you sort of in a relationship, Sam?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

He sighed. "I received your present this afternoon. Special delivery, I suppose."

"Yeah."

"Send it late?"

"God," Sam breathed, shaking her head. "You're welcome, Dad. Did you like it?"

"I haven't had a chance to open it yet."

She sighed. "Well, Dad, I suppose I should be going." Nothing from the other end. "I'll call again soon, okay?"

"Sam, I've told you, we don't need weekly updates if nothing has happened. Call when you need to and--"

"Just forget it," Sam said, hanging up before she could start crying over the phone. She fought the urge to throw the phone at the wall and simply held it to her chest, sobbing against her will. After a few seconds, the phone rang. She growled and picked up the phone, angrily saying, "What?"

A pause. "Miss... Miss Carter?"

She immediately felt her anger cooling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is she."

"Miss Carter, this is Janice down at the diner."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, ma'am. It's just... well, it's been a boring day down here, so when someone asked us to take part in a little adventure, it was hard to say no."

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"A woman came in about half an hour ago, looking very disappointed, very sad. She left, but then she came back. She's sitting in the booth right now, staring out the window looking like her best friend or her dog just died.

"Anyway, we looked up the credit card receipts since I sort of remember your name. I thought it was Carver and James in the back thought it was Carrell. We found it, looked up your name in the phone book and, voila. We wanted to tell you that your dining companion was waiting patiently in your regular booth."

Sam was already standing, nervously looking around her apartment for something to wear. "I... uh, I'm... I can't be there for another twenty minutes! Will she still be there?"

"We told her to hold on and told her what we were doing. Get a move on, honey, she'll still be waiting."

Sam thanked the waitress and hung up, moving at lightning speed to find socks and shoes. She pulled them on, cursing herself for already changing into her sleeping clothes, and dashed for the front door of her apartment.

---

Janet was still there. Blessed Virgin, wonder of wonders, Sam had never seen a more beautiful sight. Janet was in 'regular' clothes rather than her scrubs; a heavy trench coat, tight black jeans and a red button-down shirt open at the collar to show just a hint of her white undershirt. Her hair was down, cradling her face and tickling her cheeks.

When she turned and smiled, Sam thought she would melt right then and there. Janet stood, pulling her purse up onto her shoulder and waving to a woman behind the counter. "Thank you, Janice."

"It's Christmas!" the waitress replied. "You girls have fun now, ya hear?"

They stepped out of the restaurant, Janet leaving a tip larger than her entire bill, and stood facing each other for a long moment. Sam was shaking, still wearing her sweats under a too-short coat. "Leave in a hurry?" Janet asked.

"I didn't want to risk missing you."

"You'll freeze to death," Janet argued, smile widening.

"That wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," Sam said.

Janet scoffed. "But not seeing me today. That would have ended your world."

"Yeah," Sam said without hesitation.

Janet's smile wavered and she looked down at their feet. "Well, we can't stand out here all day," she said, easing the conversation back to easier topics. "Any suggestions on what we can do?"

"My apartment is warm," Sam suggested.

"Ooh, a house call!" Janet said, clapping her gloved hands together. "I can't wait!"

---

Books lined every horizontal surface, a few of them being used to level the horizontal surfaces for other books. Janet picked one up and thumbed through it. "Wow. These are all over my head."

"I doubt that very much," Sam said, trying very hard to casually hide her dirty laundry. Janet, for her part, kept her eyes on the pictures and books until Sam subtly indicated it was as clean as it was going to get. "Do you want something to drink? Uh, soda, beer..."

"I'd love a diet soda if you have one."

Sam nodded and headed into the kitchen, leaving Janet alone in the living room. She wandered over to the stereo and ran her fingertips along the CD cases. She laughed, covering her mouth when she got to a certain one. Sam returned with the diet sodas and saw what her guest was looking at. "Oh, God. That was a gift."

"The Carpenters?" Janet asked. She pulled the CD out and said, "Of course it has 'Close to You'... what would be the point of having a Carpenter's CD without that song?" She swayed her hips and sang, "So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blu-ue..."

She turned to Sam, a smile still on her lips, and was caught mid-word with a kiss. Sam held the bottles of Diet Coke out to the side, leaning forward and pressing her lips chastely to Janet's. When she pulled back, she blinked nervously and looked down at the bottles in her hands. "Is Diet... Coke all right?"

Janet caught her breath and softly said, "You kissed me."

"Um... yeah. I also have, um... other sodas. If you... prefer." She looked at Janet through her eyelashes, heart pounding, afraid she may have lost whatever vestige of friendship she'd found in Janet. Panic took over and Sam said, "Please don't leave. Don't... think I'm... trying to seduce you. Or anything. I've seen your ring, I know... I know you're married. But I've wanted to do that and you're..." She closed her eyes. "I really like you."

Janet took the bottles from Sam and sat them on the floor. When she straightened, she curled her hand against the back of Sam's head and drew her down. "I really like you, too, Sam."

They kissed. Mouths closed, eyes opened. Sam felt a tear slide down her cheek and brushed it away when they parted. Janet smiled at her and Sam whispered, "Merry Christmas."

---

Sam went into the bedroom first, ditching the clothes and paperback books off the mattress. She smoothed out the blanket and looked around, wishing she'd cleaned it a little more often. Truth was that making the bedroom presentable wasn't on the list of important things in her life. Hardly anyone saw it but her. Well, someone was going to see it now. "Okay," she said.

Janet stepped in from the hallway. In the light of the bedroom's single lamp, her eyes looked alit with flame, her skin shining with anticipation. She walked to the foot of the bed and knelt on the mattress, motioning Sam forward. Sam edged down the side of the bed, not getting onto it, watching Janet's every move very carefully.

Janet touched Sam's forehead first, sliding her hand down and nudging her cheek before smoothing her palm against the cool flesh. Sam inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly and trying not to shake. She bit her bottom lip and said, "I'm very nervous."

"Do you want to kiss me?" Janet asked, smiling playfully.

Sam's breath caught in her throat and she half-gasped, half-choked. Tears flowed out again and she said, "I'm sorry."

Janet kissed Sam's cheek and said, "It's okay. Don't worry, Sam, it's okay." She drew Sam's head to her shoulder, stroking her hair. "We don't have to do this right now. We don't have to do anything. Do you want to just lay down with me?"

Sam kissed Janet's shoulder through her shirt and they both moved towards the headboard. They stretched out on the mattress, facing each other. Janet stroked Sam's face, smiling at her and waiting for her to break the silence first.

Finally, Sam caught Janet's left hand and stroked the ring surrounding the third finger. "You don't have to be anywhere?" Sam asked pointedly.

Janet's smile faltered. "I was already late when I ran to the diner. Now..." She shrugged. "Ten minutes, ten hours, same thing."

"He hits you."

Janet winced and closed her eyes.

"I want to kill him," Sam said, touching Janet's cheek. "I've seen the bruises."

"Thought I was good with the make-up."

"You are. I also see you wince when someone near you moves too fast." She dragged her fingers down to Janet's arm. "Are there any bruises on you that I can't see?"

Janet lifted her left arm, rolling onto her back. She touched her side, just below her rib cage, staring blankly at the ceiling with wet eyes. Sam balanced herself on one elbow and leaned down, pressing her lips against the injury through Janet's shirt. Janet sucked a lungful of air through her teeth, her eyes drifting shut.

"I'll kiss it and make it better," Sam said, moving up so her face was even with Janet's.

"Just that one bruise?"

"All of the bruises," Sam promised. She kissed Janet's lips, moving so that she was straddling the other woman's hips. "Do you mind if I'm on top?"

"Why would I?" Janet asked, breathing hard.

"Your husband. I thought... that someone like him..." She bit her lip and said, "I'm willing to let you be in control."

Janet kissed Sam hard. "I trust you," she breathed. She slid her hands down the front of Sam's sweatshirt, feeling her breasts through the thick material. "Show me," she breathed.

"I'm not a virgin," Sam said softly. "But... I-I'm... I don't do this often. I'm..."

"Sam," Janet said, shaking her head. "I don't care if you've been with one person or one thousand."

"I just wanted you... to know... why I'm nervous." She swallowed, licked her lips and said, "I more than like you."

Janet smiled. "I love you, too."

Sam grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt with both hands, lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. She fixed her glasses and smoothed down her hair with a pat of her hand. She was wearing a practical bra and instantly felt like someone's grandmother. She unhooked it and slid it down her arms as quickly as possible.

Janet scanned her eyes down her lover's bare torso. Sam's breathing increased, her breasts rising and falling as she waited for the verdict. Janet's eyes lit up and she said, "You're beautiful, Sam. All those sweaters, all those formless skirts. You're so gorgeous."

Sam ducked her head and put her hand on Janet's throat. "May... I take off your shirt, Janet?"

"Please," Janet said, laying her arms to the side as Sam deftly worked the buttons free. When they were all undone, Janet sat up and they worked together to get her arms out of the sleeves. She was still wearing her tank top, her tanned shoulders and chest standing out against the white material.

Sam bent down and kissed Janet's shirt, moving her mouth around until she found the hard bud of a nipple. She latched onto it, suckling and licking until the shirt around it was wet with the evidence of her discovery. Janet moaned and said, "Oooh. Oh, this is foreplay."

Sam smiled up at Janet and turned her attention to her other breast.

As Janet pulled her tank top up and off, Sam was surprised to find herself straddling one of Janet's legs, her hips moving of their own volition. Janet stayed elevated when her shirt was gone, pulling Sam close and embracing her. "That feels good," she whispered. "Your thigh against me... oh, Sam..."

Sam closed her eyes and concentrated on doing just what she'd been doing. Janet's breathing got a little rougher, a little more strained. She took Sam's hand, the one that hadn't been injured, and guided it between her legs. Sam gasped when she felt the slack waistband of the jeans, her eyes popping open when her fingers slid between heated skin and soft lace.

"There. Fingers," Janet whispered. "Two, two fingers." She sounded rushed, panting, her entire body quaking. "Sam," Janet whispered. "Sam, Sam... I'm going to... Sam, you're going to make me come..."

Sam looked down in wonder, but saw only bulging jeans. She moved her hand, the bulge moved. Janet made a low, keening sound and bit Sam's breast, closing her mouth around one nipple. Sam closed her eyes and, to her surprise, felt herself begin to moisten. Janet slid her hand up the inside of Sam's thigh, pressing the material of her sweatpants against her mound.

With a final cry, Janet trembled and her muscles tightened around Sam's fingers. It felt as if Janet was trying to force them out and pull them deeper at the same time. Janet thrust one finger up, the wet material of Sam's pants getting wetter as she felt a spark deep in her gut. Waves flowed and she pressed herself against Janet so hard that they both fell to the mattress.

Sam was embarrassed to find herself thrusting against Janet's hand, knocking the headboard against the wall, her mouth wide open, her eyes screwed shut, her legs spread wide as she reached her first orgasm of the... of ever, maybe. God, she'd never felt this. She lifted her head when she found the strength, kissing Janet hard.

Janet cradled her when they were done, curling one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. Sam kept her head down, her lips against Janet's shoulder and her legs around Janet's waist.

Janet looked over Sam's shoulder at the window. The snow had stopped falling, leaving a fresh blanket on the city. There was a tree right outside of Sam's window, branches bare and hanging heavy with the weight of snow. She kissed Sam's temple, aware that the blonde was already asleep. She carefully eased the other woman's glasses off and laid them on the night table.

"Merry Christmas, Sam," she whispered into the other woman's ear. "Thank you for being my present."

---

The next morning, Janet tied her shoes on the edge of the bed and turned, smiling down at her lover's sleeping face. She brushed the bangs away from her eyes and kissed her forehead. Sam mumbled, "Mom?" and blinked rapidly, working her eyes until she realized why they wouldn't focus. She fumbled for her glasses on the nightstand and put them on, smiling nervously up at Janet. "Hi."

"I didn't want to wake you," Janet whispered, touching Sam's cheek. "I have to go. Work."

"And then?"

Janet shrugged. "My husband will have words... but I have all day to think up an excuse. I can get scrubs at work, so no need to confront him this morning."

Sam's smile disappeared and she grabbed Janet's hand. "He is going to hit you."

Janet looked down at their intertwined hands and shrugged. "I've been hit before."

"I never want you to get hit again. Never again, Janet."

"You're sweet," Janet said, smiling sadly. "But if it's the last time, it won't matter."

"The last time was the last time. You are not getting hit again, Janet."

"I've accepted it."

"I haven't. I won't."

Janet leaned down and kissed Sam's lips. Sam curled her fingers in Janet's short hair, pulling her closer, trying to extend their contact. Janet reached up and carefully pulled Sam's hand away, turning her head and kissing Sam's warm palm. "I have to go. I'll see you tonight."

"When?"

"Late," Janet said. "But I will be here. Don't go slamming your fingers in a drawer just to see me at work."

Sam smiled. "I'll try to restrain myself." She looked at the clock and sighed. "I have to go to work, too."

"There are sick days, there are vacation days," Janet lamented. "Why can't there be 'I'm-in-bed-with-my-lover' days?" She brushed Sam's cheek and stood up, leaving the bedroom. She was at the door when Sam caught up with her.

"Wait!" Sam said, dragging the sheet behind her. Janet turned and Sam said, "Kiss me good-bye again." She squared her shoulders and said, "I don't... get good-bye kisses very often. Do it again?"

Janet stretched herself to Sam's height, curling her hands on the taller woman's bare shoulders for balance. She leaned in, parting her lips and using her tongue to part Sam's. Sam kept her eyes open through the kiss, staring at Janet, so close, flicking her tongue against Janet's in greeting. When they parted, Janet dropped back down and said, "I'll see you tonight."

Sam licked her lips and said, "Mm."

Janet giggled and said, "Bye, Sam. Thank you for a wonderful Christmas."

Sam could only nod. She watched Janet walk down the hallway, still giggling, and closed the door. She rested her head against the wooden door frame and waited. She hesitated, tested the feeling out, then smiled brightly. She touched her cheeks, amazed the smile was reaching so far and headed for her bedroom. She was laughing by the time she got into the shower.

---

Hershfield glanced at her without raising his head from his notepad. She tried to shuffle past his desk without saying anything, but he held up a finger and she stopped, closing her eyes and hoping it would go smoothly. He finished what he was writing and sat back, looking up at her and then looking pointedly at his watch. "Eleven fifteen," he said. "My, my, Doctor Carter. Coming into work just in time for lunch."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, trying to push past him to her desk.

He stood. "Sorry... for what?"

"I'm sorry for coming in late," Sam said. Something inside of her, something she was pretty sure had been placed there by Janet Fraiser, blossomed and she straightened her posture. "Sorry for not being here. For making you do all your own work for a change. I'm sorry you had to wrack that pea-brain of yours to come to your own conclusions and I'm sorry that most of them are probably wrong." She cleared her throat and added, "It won't happen again."

Hershfield stared at her, eyes wide, and stepped to one side. Mostly because he wasn't sure what else to do. Sam moved past him and went to her desk, waiting until her back was to him before she smiled proudly.

---

Janet got a pair of scrubs from the machine in the doctor's lounge, changing into them in the locker room. Before she got to the nurse's station, another nurse stepped out of a private room and motioned her in. Janet followed, frowning slightly as the door was closed. The other nurse, a petite Hispanic woman named Deborah, stared Janet in the eyes and said, "There was a three-car pile-up on the expressway last night. About eight, nine o'clock."

"Oh, my God," Janet gasped. "I didn't..."

"You weren't on call," Deborah said. "It's fine, we managed it." She gave Janet a meaningful look and said, "But... we did call you. For all intents and purposes. You were here last night. All night."

Janet frowned. "What's going on?"

"That bull with a wedding ring you call hubby..."

"Fuck," Janet spit, shaking her head. "He came by last night?"

"This morning. We told him you were crashed in a patient's room, getting some sleep. He demanded we wake you up, we refused. He's coming back at eleven. You were here. All night."

Janet sighed. "I feel like I should be telling you this..."

"Just tell us you were with someone else last night, Janet. Tell us you spent Christmas with someone else."

Janet closed her eyes and softly asked. "Does everyone know he... that he...?"

"Make-up isn't a mask, Janet," Deborah said. "Last night, you were..."

Janet looked shyly at Deborah, then looked away and felt her cheeks get warm. Deborah grinned brightly and said, "That's all I needed to know, chica." She kissed Janet's cheek and said, "You deserve it. All the nurses are covering for you and we even convinced Dr. Lewis to back it up."

"Dr. Lewis, the ex-quarterback?"

"He'll be at the nurse's desk at eleven. Conveniently." She looped her arm around Janet's and said, "Now, once we deal with that hubby of yours, you'll have to tell us all about your little Christmas present." She bumped Janet's hip with her own, both of them chuckling as they came out of the room.

---

Janet left the hospital twelve hours later, the confrontation with her husband going extremely well due to the intervention of the other nurses and Dr. Lewis. He'd blown steam, huffed and puffed and eventually boiled down to complaining about her not calling. Deborah had stepped in with, "You're right. Next time we're trying to save some poor girl's leg, we'll take a time-out and call you with an update on where you wife is."

He had finally left, reluctantly deciding there was nothing he could do. The hardest part had been during lunch, deflecting the inquiries of other nurses who wanted to know who Janet's mystery date had truly been. She'd finally gotten them off her back by saying, "It's brand-new. I want to see where it's going before I give you any details." Which was code for "I want to make sure I really feel how I feel before I'm labeled the Local Dyke."

She walked down the ramp, waving good-bye to Dr. Lewis across the parking lot. She was halfway out of the lot when she spotted the three off-duty cabs parked at the curb. For some reason, the sight of them made her stop in her tracks. The subway entrance was just across the street. It would take her downtown, almost directly to her apartment.

Cabs were more expensive, but less crowded.

She started walking towards the cab.

E Street was home. Franklin Street... Sam's apartment. When she reached the first cab, she leaned in the window and asked, "Do you go to Franklin Street?"

"Twenty-five," the cabby said, quoting his price.

Janet got in the backseat, clutching her purse and nervously telling him the number of Sam's apartment. Doing this meant that her friends had lied for nothing. They'd just bought her an extra day. Doing this meant that her husband would find out, almost without question, that she wasn't working extremely long hours.

She didn't care. Doing this meant he definitely wouldn't hit her tonight. Doing this meant she would get to go to sleep pressed against soft flesh, held in gentle arms, made love to rather than fucked. She was more certain than ever she'd made the right decision.

---

She and Sam made love in the living room this time, Janet stretched out on the couch, Sam between her legs and thrusting gently against her. They were both nude, a level they hadn't managed the previous night, and Sam was dripping sweat onto Janet's shoulder. Janet kissed Sam's breasts, sliding her hands down to cup her ass as Sam pressed her thigh against her lover's center. Janet moaned and brought her legs up, hooking her ankles behind Sam's back.

Sam kissed Janet's cheek and sagged, lying on top of her. "Nice?" Sam asked.

"Mm-hmm," Janet murmured, her face full of Sam's fragrant hair.

"Dinner?"

"Not yet."

"Okay," Sam breathed. She kissed Janet's neck, making the brunette shiver. After a few minutes, Sam pulled herself away from Janet and stood next to the couch, putting on the button-down Oxford shirt she had been wearing before Janet's surprise arrival. "Drink?"

"Yes," Janet said. "Please." She rolled onto her side, grabbing her scrub top and squirming into it as Sam went into the kitchen.

When she came back, carrying two bottles of Diet Coke, Janet was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch. Her scrubs shirt was pooled between her legs, giving her a bit of unnecessary modesty. Sam handed Janet a bottle and sat across from her, the room's sole lamp between them and casting shadows on the wrinkles of their clothes.

Janet took a swig. "White-Winged Dove" was playing on the stereo and Janet listened to the lyrics for a bit. The silence was comfortable, warm, abiding. She would have been thrilled to sit in silence with Samantha Carter for the rest of her days. Sam, though, had something on her mind. She nervously said, "I... have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

Sam looked down at her wrist, cradling it in her lap as she tried to figure out the right words. "I-I lied to you. When we met? About the... purse-snatcher. I just fell on the ice. I slipped getting into my car and I landed wrong. I lied because... I-I guess because I wanted you to think I was special."

She finally looked up, seeing Janet smiling. She moved so that she was kneeling next to Sam on the floor, stroking her cheek. Softly, she said, "You are special, Samantha." They kissed, Janet tasting the Diet Coke on Sam's mouth. The kiss moved from affirming to needy, growing in passion until both women were breathing hard.

When Janet's fingers moved to the buttons of Sam's shirt, Sam pulled back from the kiss and looked down. "Again?" she asked.

"Yes," Janet said. "Please, Sam."

Sam smiled. "Well," she said, biting her bottom lip briefly. "Since you said please..."

Janet pushed Sam down onto the floor.

---

The lamp made a halo of light on the ceiling. Sam had gotten a good rhythm going; stroke her fingers through Janet's hair, gather three or four individual hairs, then let gravity pull them down one at a time. Janet purred against Sam's shoulder like a contented kitten, being petted by her favorite owner. She kissed a mole on Sam's breast, their naked legs twisted and joined beneath the blanket.

Sam's past experiences with sex had been quick, always in a bed, always unsatisfying and always with a man who magically disappeared before dawn. She was like a sexual Cinderella, filled but not fulfilled. Wanted but not loved. She kissed Janet's hair, sliding her lips down until she found flesh. Janet tiled her head up and they kissed again.

"Are you ready for dinner?" Sam asked, her lips moving against Janet's as she spoke.

"What do you have?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Soup, um... Velveeta shells and cheese."

"Nothing we have to cook," Janet said.

"Then... cereal."

Janet wrinkled her nose. "We could order in."

"Chinese?"

"Yeah."

Sam pulled herself free of Janet and walked naked to the phone. Janet rolled onto her stomach, staring up at Sam, smiling as the blonde nervously paced back and forth in front of the table. "Chicken and broccoli," Janet said.

Sam repeated the order and got herself something. She hung up and returned to the love nest they'd created on the floor, sliding under the blanket and pulling Janet close again. "I've never talked on the phone naked before."

Janet grinned. "You've never had phone sex?"

Sam thought, then said, "Isn't that unsanitary?"

Janet laughed. "How would it be unsanitary?"

Sam shrugged, embarrassed and motioned at her crotch. "Well... putting the phone down... down there..."

"Oh, my God!" Janet said, her laughter building in volume. She rolled onto her back, covering her mouth. "Sam, honey, you don't... use the phone like that! You... talk dirty. You masturbate with someone on the other end, who is also masturbating."

Sam's face had grown three shades of red, both from embarrassment as well as the mention of self-love. She swallowed and said, "Y-you've done it?"

"Yeah!" Janet said. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh at you." She rolled back to Sam, lifting herself up over the blonde. "Do you forgive me?" She worked her leg between Sam's thighs, watching as she gasped at the contact. "Please forgive me, Sam." She bent down, kissing Sam's throat, working her tongue and her leg in sync.

"Mm, yes... yes, I... yes."

"That's my girl," Janet whispered. She kissed Sam's lips and said, "We should get dressed. Wait for our dinner." She licked her lips, then leaned down and licked the shell of Sam's ear. "Although... it would be a shame to waste this position we find ourselves in. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed, closing her eyes and arching her back as Janet went to work.

---

Sam sat against the couch, with Janet's head in her lap. To her right was the small white box of fried rice, to her left the container of chicken and broccoli. She plucked a piece of chicken up with the chopsticks and painted the sauce over Janet's lips before allowing her to eat it. "Mm," the brunette said, smiling. "So, then what happened?"

"Well, my brother kind of separated himself from me. And my father did the same. I think we all blamed someone else for what had happened. None of us were willing to admit that it might have just been... her time." She sniffled and shook her head, drawing another piece of chicken out of the container.

"My mother," Janet said, shaking her head. It made her hair move in delightful ways on Sam's thigh and she dropped the chicken on Janet's throat. Janet laughed, then howled when Sam dipped her head down and plucked it up with her teeth. She swallowed the piece herself and smiled down at Janet.

"As I was saying," Janet said. "My mother was... sweet. Perfect. She was a poet."

"Would I know her?" Sam asked, digging for another big piece of chicken.

"No, not published or anything like that. Can I have some broccoli?"

"Sure," Sam said.

"She just wrote poetry. For me and my brother and sister mostly. We'd get to school and our lunches would have notes on them: 'I worked and I slaved, I made you these lunches you craved, So be dears to me and don't make my love fade'm, Eat these nutritious lunches and do not trade'm.'"

Sam laughed. "Fade'm?"

"Did I mention she was unpublished?" Janet asked, opening her mouth to take the broccoli.

"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" Sam asked.

"Nine."

"And then?"

Janet looked down at her hands, resting on her stomach. "I keep waiting for the right answer to just... pop into my head. I don't want to stay with my husband. But I'm... scared... of what he'll do if I ask for a divorce. I doubt he's the kind of man who will let me go quietly."

"No one in their right mind would," Sam said.

"I have to face him eventually. This isn't right. And the fact that you're... the other woman... just makes it feel wrong. And I don't want anything about being with you to feel wrong."

Sam leaned down and kissed Janet again. "We'll figure something out."

"But not right now."

"Right," Janet said, sitting up and wiping the sauce from her neck. "Right now, we have much more important things to figure out." She dipped her finger into one of the containers and said, "Like what does Sam Carter taste like when dipped in soy sauce?"

---

Sand carried, blowing in her face. She lifted her hand, turning away from the scorching sun and towards the man. He was standing higher on the dune, looking down at her. His clothes seemed out of place; too modern, for some reason. He walked towards her and another man came over the rise. She knew him, too, and he also seemed too modern for this place.

There was an explosion, a shout, something that sounded like gunfire erupting a few yards away. The older man turned her around and forced her to walk. She looked over her shoulder and saw a column of fire rising from the sand. Another wave of heat hit her in the face and she was blinded by the sand...

She sat up in bed, gasping and clutching the sheet to her chest. Janet sat up with her, embracing her and kissing her shoulder. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Dream," Sam gasped. "A bad dream."

Janet kissed her. "About my husband? Or..."

"No. I've had it all my life." She blinked, running a hand through her hair. "It's... scary. But it doesn't make any sense. I'm in a desert and I feel like... I'm doomed. And trapped. And..." She squinted. "Not me."

"No?"

"No. Someone... else. That is me. But different."

"Makes sense," Janet said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Don't laugh at me," Sam said seriously. "This dream scares the hell out of me."

Janet immediately sobered. "I'm sorry, baby. What else do you remember about the dream?"

"It's a long time ago. Centuries, it feels like, but I don't know how I know that." She threw the blankets aside and got out of bed. "I'm going to get a glass of milk. Do you--"

"I'm fine," Janet said.

Once Sam was out of the bedroom, Janet thought about the murmurs that had awoken her. "Colonel, ready, Daniel... yes, Sir." It sounded as if she was in some sort of military action. But in the middle of the desert? Maybe Iraq? Desert Storm? She slid down the mattress and waited until Sam came back with her milk. She swallowed a lot of it, leaving the glass on her night stand as she climbed under the covers.

She kissed Janet's lips and lay down, tucking her hand under the mattress. "Pleasant dreams," Janet said.

"You, too," Sam whispered, already drifting off again.

Janet rolled over, pressing herself against Sam's back and wrapping her arms around her. "Don't worry about nightmares," Janet whispered. "I'm right here. Right here to watch over you."

---

Sure enough, 8:45, fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, Janet walked down the sidewalk outside of the ER. She was wearing her pink scrubs already, her short hair pinned up and her face free of any make-up. She paused to talk to someone on a smoke break and laughed, pausing to get a newspaper. She bent over and he leaned back, admiring the curve of her ass in her thin scrubs. Panty-line. First thing he'd noticed on her, that ass, and it infuriated him to think of another man spanking it at night.

He was crouched low in his friend's car. David hadn't been too keen on loaning his car out for the entire day, but he had been convinced easy enough.

Janet walked into the hospital, a spring in her step and a newspaper tucked under her arm.

"Guess lover boy doesn't have a subscription," he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

He had a long day ahead of him.

---

Janet left the hospital at lunch, checking her watch and hoping she had enough time to get to the bus before it left. She had to meet Sam, get lunch, eat lunch and make it back in forty-five minutes. It didn't leave much time for conversation, but she and Sam were just happy to be in each other's presence.

As she passed the alley, she spotted the Redskin's jacket with a 'hey, I've seen one of those before' flash. Before she could register it, however, his hand was on the inside of her elbow and she was being flung around like a rag doll. He swung her like he would a bat, her chest hitting the brick wall and blowing all the oxygen from her lungs.

She gasped and he flung her to the ground. "No," she rasped, her voice hoarse and her lungs burning. He straddled her chest and punched her in the face. Closed fist, straight punch.

"Make-up won't cover this one," he promised, spitting on her as he brought his fist down again.

---

It was still that stage of the relationship where it was hard to be mad at her for not showing up. Fortunately, it was late enough that she assumed there was a reason for Janet's absence other than she wanted to break up. Sam put her bag and supplies on the counter, checking her messages. Nothing. She quirked her lips, wandering into the living room and kicking off her loafers.

She had Janet's number... could call her. But no. If she was home, finally breaking the news to her husband, then it would be a bad thing to interrupt. If she was at work, the call would go unanswered anyway.

Best to just wait.

---

Sam woke with a start, halfway out of her recliner before she realized the knocking had been on her neighbor's apartment door. She could hear the same Chinese deliveryman that had come to her place the night before through the wall. She walked to the door anyway, opening it and peering out.

No note from Janet hung from the announcement peg to the left of her doorknob. No 'while you were out' memo from the landlord was tucked under the door in the entryway. She curled her toes in her cotton socks, smiling at the deliveryman as he walked past her on his way downstairs.

Unsure of how to feel, Sam went back into her apartment.

Nothing had changed, no furniture added or subtracted. She tugged on her earlobe and wondered why, then, it felt so monumentally empty.

---

"Hi! This is Janet Fraiser. I'm out of my pants right now, so I can't answer your call." She laughed and said, "Um, voicemail. Like an answering machine. Do it to it."

Sam chewed her bottom lip and hung up. She'd grown so accustomed to the outgoing message over the past few hours that she could recite it with the same inflections and pauses. She disconnected without leaving a message and sucked the antennae of her phone into her mouth. She was about to abandon the phone for bed when it rang in her hand. She jumped, looking down at it and cursing herself for being so jumpy. The number wasn't familiar, but she hit "talk" anyway.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?"

Sam's radar immediately went up. "You... called me."

"Yeah, but I don't know who you are. Why are you calling Janet Fraiser's cell phone?"

Sam's heart skipped a beat. "What happened?" she breathed.

"Look, I--"

"What happened?" Sam asked. She was very close to losing control and could feel it. "What happened, what happened?"

A pause, then the woman on the other end of the line said, "You're the one, aren't you?"

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that. "I'm--"

The woman seemed to be talking to herself now. "She never said boyfriend or guy or... your name is Sam, isn't it?"

"Yes," Sam said, voice shaking.

"My name is Deborah. I'm a nurse and I work with Janet."

Sam took a breath, tried to maintain her calm. "What happened?"

"She was hurt," Deborah said. "You should come down here."

---

Sam was in the waiting room before she realized her sweater was buttoned wrong over her nightgown. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing two different loafers and her glasses were crooked. She looked like a homeless woman, but she didn't care. Deborah, a Hispanic woman more petite than Janet, came around the corner and spotted her. "Samantha?"

Sam stood. "Where is she?"

Deborah motioned for her to follow and Sam reluctantly did, towering over the small nurse as they walked down the sterile, white and ungodly quiet corridors. Deborah's shoes squeaked as she came to a stop in front of a door marked ICU-812. She smiled and rapped her knuckle against the sign. "Janet's favorite room."

Sam frowned. "W-why?"

"ICU-812?" Deborah said. Aloud, it sounded like 'I see you ate one, too.' Sam smiled weakly, unable to see the humor at the moment. Deborah nodded and said, "Yeah. Well... she's in here. You'd probably better prepare yourself... she's in bad condition."

"She couldn't ask you to call me," Sam whispered.

"She's in a medically-induced coma. She was beaten pretty severely and we wanted to--"

"Can I please... just see her?"

"Of course," Deborah said. "But she'll be okay. Her body just needs a little time to mend." She opened the door and Sam stepped into the room.

At first, she didn't believe it was really Janet. She was draped with a hospital gown, her eyes swollen and purple, her lips split and wrapped around a ventilator hose. There were bandages from her wrist to the sleeve of her hospital gown, her neck sporting several fingernail-shaped scratches.

A monitor kept track of her heartbeat. Steady beeps. Mechanical. Not real. Janet's heart was much more alive than that; it beat drums and shook rain sticks. Beep. Beep. Beep. That wasn't Janet's heart.

Sam turned and stormed from the room, nearly slamming into Deborah. "Where is he?"

"Jail. One of our doctors, Dr. Lewis, came across the scene. He... accidentally... broke her husband's arm trying to pull him off of her."

"Dr. Lewis," Sam said.

"He's a former quarterback," Deborah said, smiling a little. "Her poor hubby now has four elbows in that arm... and he might lose the one God gave him in the first place."

"Accidentally," Sam repeated.

"Accidentally."

"He's going to stay in jail?"

Deborah motioned at the door to 812. "Janet can't hide or deny those injuries. Dr. Lewis is a witness to the crime in progress. When Janet wakes up in forty-eight hours, she's going to press charges, we hope..."

"She will," Sam assured her.

"You make sure of that." She started to walk away, then turned around and said, "You're Sam."

"Uh-huh," Sam said.

Deborah nodded, looking to one side in thought. "You know, I've never heard anyone talk about the person they love like Janet fawns over you. Not even my husband. And he is a nice guy." She tapped the file against her thigh and said, "I never would've pegged Janet as... well... you know... but she is really head-over-heels for you."

"That's too bad," Sam said.

"What?"

Sam sniffled. "I still love her more."

Deborah grinned and pointed the file at Sam. "I'm coming to the wedding. Tell her there's no debating."

Sam laughed and went into the ICU room again. She pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down, taking Janet's hand and wincing at the torn fingernail. Closing both hands around Janet's, she laid her head on the mattress and softly sang, "Why do stars fall out of the sky, every time... you walk by? Just like me, they long to be... close to you..."

She kissed the bandages of Janet's hand and hummed the rest of the song, ready to sit the entire night if necessary.