MC-125 Ch. 01-11

"And what was the result?"

"I landed in the hospital for a couple of weeks."

Samantha arched an eyebrow at that, surprised by the answer. "Well, I'm not going to pry into your past at the moment." She took a deep breath and John watched as she collected her thoughts and resolve. "My truly stupid mistake was that I once fell in love." She bit off the last few words like leather. "I met him at a golf course. I used to be quite good. So was Jeff. He was a smooth talker and I came from a fairly sheltered upbringing with lots of money. In other words, I was easy pickings for a guy like him. I really did think I loved him. He had an easy smile, handsome eyes, and that certain charisma that most girls found appealing. I was young and naïve and he was such a dashing man. My family didn't like him and had pretty much disowned me along the way. I should have listened to them. But, of course, I didn't. He left me not long after my parents cut off my funds and there was nothing more for him to take from me. Turned out he strung several other girls along as well. When he was through with me I had nothing but a sheet of paper saying that I graduated from business.

"I was humiliated as much as anything else. I was such a fool. I vowed never to trust anyone ever again. After a year I reentered the corporate world and moved up the ladder. There were plenty more men where Jeff came from and tried taking me for a fool because they thought me a scatterbrained woman. I took a certain satisfaction out of burning them, career wise."

John sat back and listened to Samantha's tale. Yes, it would seem she had been through the wringer. He did a little quick math in his head and figured that she had been living alone for the past five years. Still, that wouldn't explain everything about her. There was much more she wasn't telling. The haunted look in her pale green eyes spoke volumes more than a simple lying ex-boyfriend could explain. John opened his mouth to say something but was cut off when the redhead spun around with diamond hard eyes boring into him with anguished pain and anger. Hate against men, her parents for not being there for her, but mostly she hated herself for being such a fool. For trusting. Of course, John was the only person in the room for her to focus on.

"Would it help if I said that I hate golf?" John commented.

The comment unbalanced her from her pedestal of hate. John watched as she mentally scrabbled to gather her wits but failed utterly in his slight, sympathetic smile. Samantha's mouth curled up a fraction until she finally laughed through a surprising streak of tears. John moved across the room and pulled her to him. He felt her shudder in bittersweet laughter. He lowered them to the floor and she curled up in his lap. He wondered just how long she had been simply held. John ran his fingers through her coppery curls and stroked her gently in succor.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "There's more but I'm just not ready for that yet."

John shushed her. "I know," he whispered. "I know." John cupped Samantha's upturned face. Instantly he was awash in her emotions. An endless sea of pain greeted him and, reflexively, he accepted it all. He choked on the anguish and torture and he swallowed it. Bitterness and grief drowned him in its icy clutches. He stood alone, a rock in an ocean of agony as the wind lashed and bit at the turbulent waters.

To save his own sanity he built upon himself, the rock in the ocean, until he was himself a mountain of solitude in the stormy sea. Waves broke across his stony surface but he stood strong until the ineffectual forces weakened.

Suddenly, his mind was wrenched from Samantha's. He sat dazed and confused on the floor, several feet from where he was but a moment ago. His head hurt as if it were being squeezed by a vise. His stomach rolled and heaved in his belly. Disoriented, John braced himself with his desk and pulled himself up. That was a big mistake. The floor seemed to slide and spin beneath his feet and he found himself sprawled on the floor again. John watched as Samantha stood shakily from the floor and managed to stay up. She reached for the door and he tried to call out to her but he choked on fiery sour bile as it gorged up his throat and slid back down. He lay back on the floor and waited for the room to stop spinning.

* * *

It was several minutes before the room stopped rolling about enough for John to sit up and nearly an hour before he could crawl across the room and fish out an aspirin for his aching head. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. He realized, as he took another swig from the bottle of water, that he forgot that his right hand was ungloved. When he reached down to touch her he must of accidentally connected with Samantha. But never before had he ever built such a strong rapport. Never had he ever felt such strong emotions in anyone. The symbolic constructs he used were a simplification of what was running around in her mind at that moment. If he were slightly less experienced she very well could have killed him, if not both of them. John drank deeply from the bottle and emptied it then grabbed another while rubbing his temple.

Oh God, his head was killing him. Not to mention the jeopardy that his relationship with Samantha was now in. He had accidentally touched her. Granted, he probably helped calm her but in this case, so soon after explaining the situation, it would only serve to damage his credibility. He did not wish to betray his trust before their relationship even got off the ground.

John sighed and leaned back against the wall, he still hadn't managed to stand up or drag himself into his chair without having the floor bring him back down. Well, he certainly couldn't repair things by simply sitting on the floor. Mustering enough resolve to venture another attempt at rising, John cursed beneath his breath as he clambered up the side of his desk and managed to stand up. He locked his knees and stood straight. The blood in his head drained and he nearly fainted from the sudden rush but he managed to stay conscious. He gripped the edge of his desk and paced about the wooden frame until he was confident that he could manage without its help. Walking became easier and the jackhammers in his skull seemed to dull to only a mild cadence.

Still, he didn't trust himself the controls of any vehicle so he punched some buttons on the phone and waited for the other end to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Erica."

"Oh, hi John. What's up?"

"I..." John had to think for a bit. "I'm feeling really sick right now. I think I caught a stomach flu or something. Do you think you could pick me up from work?" Yes, he supposed his current state was similar to a stomach flu.

"Oh, jeez." There was a pause. "I'm sorry John but I can't get away right now. The bar is totally packed and we're short on hands enough as it is. Maybe in another hour or two. Can you stay there for that long?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll call a cab instead."

There was a pause on the other line. "I'm sorry John."

"It's alright. I'll call you later when I get back."

"I hope you get better."

"Yeah, me too," John said and hung up the phone. He picked it up again and dialed the cab service. It wouldn't be more than ten minutes. He sat back in the office chair and wondered what would happen next. Would Samantha hate him, or return to him confused and seeking answers? He didn't know. There was simply too much about her that he wasn't familiar with. If he were lucky she would accept his explanation and apology. If.

John stumbled down the hall to the elevator and thumbed the button. The door pinged and slid apart and John was shocked to find Samantha standing in the booth. "Sorry," John slurred. "I'll catch the next one." If he were lucky he might just take the stairs and fall down and not have to deal with the whole situation.

Instead of letting the doors slide shut his boss touched the button panel and held the door open for him. "Wait," she commanded. "Get in."

Too exhausted to argue the point he obeyed her and shuffled in. John took a deep breath and stared ahead with downcast eyes. He didn't plan on running into her so soon. He had no idea what to say to her at the moment so he said nothing at all.

"You look like shit," Samantha stated bluntly.

"Better than how I feel right now."

"You don't look like you're in any condition to drive."

"Called a cab."

A long moment of silence stretched out between them. John studied his reflection in the shiny brass elevator panel. He did look pretty bad. His face was pale and drawn and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were sunken within dark circles. The elevator stopped at the ground floor and dinged open. John took an unsteady step forward but was pulled short by a hand on his arm. "Wait," she asked and then called out over his shoulder. "Ron! There's a cab that'll be coming around soon. Could you tell them to cancel that? Thanks. I'll be taking Mr. Arrons home."

"Ms. Summers," John stammered. "That really isn't necessary. Especially in light of what has happened."

His words fell on deaf ears as the elevator doors slid shut and continued its descent to the underground garage. "And what exactly did happen, John?"

John noticed how she slid back into an informal tone and the use of his name rather than his title now that they were alone. "I'm not exactly sure. I forgot that my right hand wasn't gloved. I'm sorry. I've betrayed your trust in me. It was an accident but still inexcusable."

"Gloved hand or not, the point would have been moot," she replied. "You were about to kiss me anyway."

John was too shocked to stammer a reply. Caught up in the moment, John supposed he was about to kiss her. The events following that interceded, however, made him forget that point. He didn't know what to say.

"There's no use denying it," she continued. "I saw it there in your eyes. I saw many things." She paused as the elevator doors parted and revealed the cavernously empty lot. She did not look at him but made for her car. She fished in her purse and deactivated the alarm. "Get in."

John stumbled his way to the passenger side of her car both physically and mentally. His brain still sloshed about in its case uselessly as he tried to form responses but the effort was beyond his already taxed abilities. He fumbled the door open and slid into the cool leather seat. Samantha fired the ignition and pulled out of the garage and into the streets. It wasn't until they passed Fifth St. and turned left on Sixth that he realized they were going the wrong way. "My apartment is on LeCranz Ave."

"I know where you live, John. We're going to my place. You need to get in a bed and my estate is closer."

"Really, this isn't necessary."

"I insist."

John picked up on her tone and decided to let the matter drop. Samantha had her heels dug in deeper than a mule's. Besides, they were already at her house. John opened the door and walked quietly by Samantha as they approached the white front door. She quickly opened the door, stepped inside, and pushed a series of buttons on the security console. John stepped into her house for the first time. As he had expected, her place was tastefully decorated with comfortable, yet stylish, furniture as they passed her living room. In the receiving hall a crystal chandelier loomed high above the cool marble floor. Those were the only details that registered in his mind as he focused on following Samantha up the crème carpeted stairs. His knees felt weak, and he had to hold on to the polished cherrywood banister to keep his balance, but he managed. He was shown to the nearest door to his right where a stiffly made bed awaited him. Samantha pulled back the covers for him as John wrestled his shoes off. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

John woke up with the eerie feeling that he was being watched. Slowly, he rolled back his lids to a pair of wide hazel eyes. John blinked and took in more of the image that greeted him. Auburn hair, a light speckling of freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. John guessed she was about five or six years old. "I'm guessing you're Samantha's daughter."

The girl nodded silently and smiled. John smiled back and pondered where the little girl fit in Samantha's story. He checked if he had indeed fallen asleep with his clothes on. He had. John pulled back the downy white covers and sat up in his rumpled shirt. He looked around and checked his watch. It was only nine in the evening. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" The girl only giggled. "I'll take that as a yes." John stood up and mindlessly slipped on his gloves then offered the little girl his hand. "Come on. Let's see if we can find your mommy and get you tucked in. If you don't trick me into walking into a closet then maybe I'll tell you a story before you go to bed."

The little girl beamed a smile his way then dragged him out of the room. The house seemed bigger on the inside than it's already grandiose image from without. Most of the lights were out in the household save for the pale blue shafts of moonlight beaming down. John felt like a lost stranger in a fairy tale being led by the pixie-like girl as they made their way through the forest of powder white smooth marble columns that supported the high domed ceiling. The little girl led him down the stairs. John faintly heard jazz playing faintly from the living room. He rounded a corner and found Samantha running over more files and notes strewn across the large dining table, her hair damp and disheveled from a recent shower. John watched as she looked up and her eyes momentarily grew large in surprise.

"Hello, Samantha," John said first. Samantha didn't reply. "Look what I found." John looked down at her daughter. "I was awakened to the feeling that I was being watched and when I looked up there was this frightening monster staring at me. For a moment I thought she was going to eat me." The little girl giggled.

"Brianna, come here," Samantha beckoned and John's guide scampered across the crème-carpeted floor. The girl crawled up and sat in Samantha's lap. Yes, definitely mother and daughter. "Brianna, you were supposed to go to sleep. I didn't leave you for more than five minutes and you go and disturb our guest," she mildly scolded.

"No bother, Samantha. I think the last of my headache has gone." John paused as he stood and watched Samantha clutch her daughter lovingly. "Besides, she led me to you. And as I promised, the little monster conned a story out of me before we send her off to bed again. Isn't that right?" Brianna looked up at him eagerly and nodded enthusiastically. John looked up from the little girl's face for the briefest moment and noticed a peculiar look spanning Samantha's face. He had time to figure that out later. Right now he had more important things to attend to. "Now, how about that story." John stretched out his hands and Brianna wiggled out of her mother's grip and into his. "Whoa, aren't you a heavy thing?"

John picked up Brianna with a bit of effort and followed her mother to her room. They arrived in a room filled to the brim with stuffed animals and dolls of every possible sort. John deposited Samantha's daughter in the canopied bed and pulled the covers up. "Now, what kind of story do you want to hear? Do you have a favorite book or do you want to hear one of my originals?" Brianna nodded enthusiastically to the latter. "A 'John Original' it is. Now let me see. Well, there once was this little monster called Baramut and he grew giant mushrooms for a living..."

John made the story up as he went along. John borrowed a little from the beginning of one of his favorite books, 'The Hobbit' but there the similarity ended. When he got to the part where Baramut was captured by a band of pirates Brianna was sound asleep. John smiled at the child and tucked her in. The entire time Samantha sat beside him and listened intently to his tale. When John looked up Samantha had that peculiar look on her face again.

"You're a pretty good story teller," she commented as they closed Brianna's bedroom door behind them.

"Yeah, well, I've always liked kids," John replied. "I mean, who wouldn't?"

"Jeff, for starters."

"Ah," was all John could say.

They traveled down the stairs and returned to the living room. John made himself comfortable on the couch. Samantha disappeared momentarily into the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. She returned with a pair of steaming mugs. "Earl Grey, my favorite," John commented.

Samantha was silent. She sat beside him and sipped gingerly at her cup.

"Your daughter," John began. "She doesn't say much."

Samantha took another slow sip before replying. "She doesn't talk."

"She's what, five years old?"

Samantha nodded. "Well, that pretty much lets out most of my secrets. I explained almost everything to you earlier. And now that Brianna showed herself, that explains pretty much everything else. So tell me. Are you ready to leave now?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I figured most men run for the hills the moment they found out about Brianna."

"How's that?"

"Come now," Samantha sneered. "A woman with a sordid past and a child to boot isn't exactly the most attractive package."

"Now you're just fishing for compliments," John replied. "You were a victim of your past. That's nothing to be ashamed of. And as for your daughter, she's as beautiful as her mother. Look, we both aired out a lot of things today. Both of us are feeling a little exposed and vulnerable at the moment. The last thing either of us needs is to commit emotional self-punishment." John scooted over and placed a comforting arm around Samantha's shoulder. "I'm not going to run away, nor am I going to let you push me aside because you think I'm going to hurt you." John paused. "Of course, in any relationship worth having two people always wind up hurting each other just a little bit along the way. It's the making up part that makes it worth it."

Samantha let out a held breath. "I really hate it when you're right."

"Would it help if lied and said you are being silly so that you could prove me wrong."

"I'm not sure how I can answer that. You win either way."

"Well, at least we've agreed on something." John released Samantha and stood up. Things were progressing far too quickly. John knew for certain that he had fallen in love with Samantha and if he stayed a moment longer he wouldn't know what would happen next. He couldn't let that happen, not to her. "I need to get back to my place. There are things I have to take care of."

"What? You just said you weren't going to run away."

"It's called a tactical retreat," John smirked. "I think we both need some time to think things through. I..." John paused. Should he say it? "I care a great deal for you. Probably more than is safe."

Samantha stood up and faced. "Afraid of living dangerously?"

"Afraid of living dangerously? No. Of you? Of us? Yes."

"Is there an 'us'?" She took a bold step forward. John could feel her warm breath licking at his lips. The scent of her was breath intoxicating.

They held their gaze, so much passion and promise sparking between them. John was the first to look away. "As far as I can tell, there has since the moment you hunted me down."

"Would it be wrong of me to go in for the kill, then?" Somehow she managed to inch even closer, forcing John to look in her smoky green eyes.

His heart stopped. His mind spun. He couldn't commit himself to any words. He didn't need any when his lips held hers. The contact was wet and brief but for them it stretched on and on. Emotions roiled between their lips and John drank it in like ambrosia. With titanic effort John pulled away and recovered his breath. "Yes, it would be."