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Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"Shit," Sam snarled, resisting the urge to resist as a man took her Thompson and then relieved her of her automatic and her heat ray. If it was just her, on her own, she might have tried anyway. But it wasn't just her, and too many of her friends could get hurt or killed if she tried. Better to wait for an opportunity. Then a boot slammed into the back of her knee, sending her down on all fours.

Duvernay sneered at her from where he stood by Anne Marie. "Stuck up Mexican cunt. Shoulda taken the hint, when we offered up the other girl. But no. You and your foreign friends gotta stick your nose in where you aren't wanted."

"What are we going to do with them?" another man asked, dumping the collected arms of the team in one corner. He leered at Anne Marie. "I mean, I got some ideas..."

"We will make them an offering to Ghede," Rafael stated as he entered the room. "He will decide the best uses for them. Or have you forgotten your vows?"

"Gentlemen," the Professor said, sounding confident and amused, "may I make a few comments?"

"Shaddup," Duvernay snarled.

Rafael looked amused. "Do you think this is one of your Penny Dreadful? That this is where we will confess all, and then you will escape at the last minute?"

The Professor snorted. "Hardly. I merely wanted to point out that your nation is backwards and primitive, and that will be your undoing."

Duvernay snarled and stepped forward, but Rafael stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Brave words for a prisoner," the mulatto laughed. "Pray, continue. Amuse us, and explain."

"In an age of electricity, you still use gas lights," the Professor remarked. "And you don't know how to recognize a miniaturized ray projector..". With that, he wiggled his fingers. A pale pink beam erupted from the ruby ring on his hand, burning a hole I to the ceiling. Suddenly, flame erupted from the severed gas line. Everyone stared in shock at the roaring jet of fire, and the flame spreading across the ceiling.

Then Colin tackled the man by the guns. As they went down, Sam rolled into her back, lifted her leg, and drove her booted heel up and forward into another man's crotch. "Fuck!" Duvernay screamed, bringing up his gun. "Kill them!"
 
It galled Erik to give up his shotgun. He wasn't nearly as heavily armed as the others--he was sure at least Sam and the Professor, possibly the others, had hidden weapons somewhere on their persons--so not only was he at a distinct disadvantage, but he'd been looking forward to deducing exactly which Schweinhund had had the gall to threaten Sam and blowing his face off. He kept an eye on it there in the corner as Professor Swift seemed to attempt to talk their way out of the situation.

Anne Marie for her part felt her fingertips tingle when one of the cronies leered at her. Losing her composure for the barest of moments, she spat in his face and received the back of his hand for her troubles. She bit her lip to stop the cry that had risen up her throat out of reflex, and swallowed it. It would be a shame to waste ingenious ways of killing on a mere toady, but by his very nature it was less important to keep him alive. Her nostrils flared and her fingers flexed as though playing a piano.

"Only big men hit women. I can only imagine how big you must be," she mocked. A second slap quieted her, though he was a fool for thinking he'd won.

"I merely wanted to point out that your nation is backwards and primitive, and that will be your undoing."

"Professor!" Kieran slurred, rolling his head to look upside-down at him. "'S racist, tha' is! Didn' think you'd--"

"Shut up, Captain," Erik advised quietly over the conversation on the other side of the room. Kieran made an exaggerated shocked face, his eyes widening and lips forming an "o" as his gaze swung around toward him. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by an eruption of fire from the ceiling.

With the fire also erupted chaos. Anne Marie took her poisoned pin to the throat of the man who had leered at her--and then to his eye, just in case--and knelt to Kieran while he thrashed, screaming and clutching his eye, for the last thirty seconds of his life. Fortunately he was so drugged that the cultists (were they really cultists?) hadn't thought to tie him very tightly or with complicated knots. In a few moments and with very little help from the pirate she'd gotten him untied and had pulled him from his place on the altar just as the fire spread to the curtains. Smoke choked her as she wrapped his arm around her shoulders and half-carried him toward the door.

"Colin help me!" she cried over the shouts and gunfire. "I can't--" Anne Marie broke into a coughing fit, staggering and stumbling over an armchair. "I can't!"

Erik grabbed up his gun as soon as Captain Drake tackled the man guarding them. Shots deafened the room and men cried out as he took aim at cultists trying to flee. Then he saw Duvernay's gun leveled at Sam. With a savage cry he rushed the sheriff, heedless of whether he actually had ammunition, and swung the shotgun like a baseball bat, feeling the stock connect with his skull with a crack. Rage had boiled up in him during that fight with Colin, rage which he had suppressed for years, rage which breeding had supposedly bred out of him but lie waiting like the wolf within the domesticated dog, and he hadn't had a chance to chain that rage and force it back into the dark corner of his heart where it belonged. That rage turned now on the man threatening his wife--his child--as Erik brought the butt of the gun down on the sheriff's face again and again, mashing it into an unrecognizable pulp. If he was even still alive, it was doubtful he would survive such a bludgeoning, and Erik meant for him not to. It didn't matter to him that the carpet and some of the furniture had caught fire, or that the record had melted from the heat. It just mattered that this man had threatened his family, and for that he had to die.

"Samantha, get him!" Anne Marie choked over the clamor, still struggling with Kieran half across her back.
 
For a moment, Sam's world collapsed to the gun in Duvernay's hand. Everything seemed strangely calm as she watched the muzzle draw a bead on her forehead. It was a LeMat, she realized distantly, probably a .42. Unless he fired the 20-gauge under the barrel, she'd be dead before she could move. And if he fired the shotgun, first? Then she'd die in agony, waiting for him to switch over to the bullet and end her.

Funny, she thought. Why am I so calm?

Duvernay opened his mouth, probably intending to say something. Sam tensed, and then Erik smashed him to the ground with the butt of his shotgun. It rose and fell, smashing the sherrif to the ground as he snarled with each blow. The sheer violence of it, from Erik of all people, stunned her more than the sudden sense of her own mortality. "Erik?" she asked, voice small.

"Samantha, get him!" she heard Anne Marie shout, choking from the smoke that was filling the room.

It was like the words were some sort of spell, cutting through the shock. Sam rolled to her feet, grabbing Erik by the arm. "Come on!" she shouted, pulling at him. "We need ta git th' hell outta here!"

Truer words had probably never been spoken. Flame roared and crackled along the rafters and the walls, making the room furnace-hot. Worse was the smoke, making her cough and choke as she pulled at Erik's arm again. Damnit, visibility was nothing! All she could see was smoke, and the figure of her man hammering away at Duvernay's skull. "God damn it, Erik!" she coughed, balling up her fist. "Y'all best be done an' movin', or Ah swear Ah will knock yer ass out an' carry you!"


Kieran wasn't standing. Most likely, whatever these men had given him was keeping him from standing. So, swearing as he coughed, Colin got an arm under the pirate and heaved him up onto one shoulder. It was awkward, and he staggered under the man's weight, but he managed it. "I can," he assured Anne Marie, grimacing under the strain. "Long enough, I think. Where... where are the others?"

Erik and Samantha were accounted for, of course. Anne Marie was beckoning for them to follow, and Sam looked to have her gentleman well in hand. Although Colin found he approved of Erik's instinct to protect her, even if she didn't want protecting. "Damn," he mumbled. "I should have tried harder." Then he stumbled after Anne Marie. "Where..." he coughed, "where is the Professor?" Then he jumped as Algernon appeared out of the smoke, a kerchief wrapped around his mouth and nose and a heat ray in his hand. "Should... should have known."

"Move," the Professor ordered. "We need to get outside, and account for the rest of these animals." As he said it, he slung Sam's Thompson over his shoulder and tucked Colin's pistol into his belt. "None of them escape, do you understand me? None."

Colin choked, and nodded. "Even..." he coughed, stumbling towards the door once more. "Even... if you... told me... otherwise."
 
Panic gripped Anne Marie, even if it was just for a bare moment. It wasn't panic over the fire, or Erik and Sam, or the burning feeling in her lungs, but the realization as Colin pointed it out that their fearless leader wasn't with them. "Algie!" she croaked, looking over her shoulder and trying to hitch up Kieran. He appeared out of the smoke as though summoned and if she could have breathed a sigh of relief she would have. She managed a weak smile before he started giving marching orders, then nodded seriously when he emphasized that none of the cultists were to escape.

"My dear Captain Drake, has anyone ever told you that you talk far too much in an emergency?" Anne Marie choked over the smoke and flames as they dragged Kieran toward the door. Finally they made it out through the servant's entrance in the kitchen and burst coughing and hacking into the cool night air. Anne Marie took big gulps of clean air before becoming aware that the smell of smoke wasn't just stuck in her nose and on her clothes, but that they were still too close to the house. "Over there." She nodded to a tree some fifty yards away and started for it, not paying any mind for now to the raspiness of her own voice.

"Frog in your throat?" Kieran rasped groggily before frowning, then grinning stupidly. He tried to walk a little as they dragged him, but it was more a hindrance than anything. "Frog in my throat?" he giggled smokily before throwing himself into a coughing fit. Finally Colin and Anne Marie got him to the tree and set him down as gently as they could.

"Kieran, you stay here," she instructed after recovering from a coughing fit and spitting what tasted like cinders into the grass, straightening and drawing her weapon from its holster at her thigh. "Captain? He ah, may want to borrow your coat while we dispatch the rest." The pirate was, after all, still stark naked though he hadn't seemed to notice. Leaving Colin to decide whether to give him the coat--and whatever lover's quarrel may follow this--she stalked off across the yard, cutting down a nameless goon as he sprinted from the burning house.

~*~

Erik's vision had narrowed to a pinprick. He didn't hear Anne Marie give Sam orders to restrain him. He didn't hear Sam calling his name or telling him that they needed to get out. It was only the familiarity of her touch which kept him from violently knocking her away as he continued on his mission to pulp the sheriff's face with his gun stock. He didn't feel the heat or hear the roar of the inferno raging around him. He only saw that Duvernay's nose was still recognizable as a nose and he therefore hadn't done his job well enough. Finally threats to knock him out and carry him out of the flames reached Erik and he looked over his shoulder at Sam. Something not entirely civilized looked out through his eyes, but the point registered nonetheless. He spat where Duvernay's eye socket had once been before taking Sam's hand and pushing their way out of the burning mansion.

That uncivilized something reappeared on the lawn. Raphael was sprinting away toward the trees, but a bright line of pink lit the night briefly as Erik grabbed a weapon from Professor Swift and nicked the leader's leg. He fell with a cry and Erik wordlessly left the others to chase him down and kneel on his chest. He pushed the heater up under his chin.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he growled. "You sacrificed that poor woman. You made the threat against Ranger Cavendish."
 
Colin stripped off his coat and draped it over Kieran's shoulders. "Take this," he said, staring down at the pirate. "And whatever were you thinking? I mean, I know we're not... well, not a couple.: The statement twisted his face with emotion. He knew that, of course. But it still hurt to say it, out loud. He'd started to hope.... "Not like Sam and Erik. But... you were on assignment! Why the hell were you thinking with your cock, Kieran?"

Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Turning, he raised his pistol and fired. One of the cultists screamed as the bullet tore into his stomach. Glad for something else to look at for a moment, he stalked towards squalling figure. "Hurts, does it?" he asked, staring as the man screamed and clutched his gut. "Good." Cocking the revolver, he fired again. And again. "Burn in hell, you filth."


Sam grabbed Erik's arm and pulled, dragging him to his feet and off Raphael's chest. "No," she said. "This ain't you, Erik. Y'all shouldn't...'

"Thank... thank you..." Raphael gasped, then cried out in pain as Sam kicked him in the head.

"You shut th' hell up," she snarled, kicking him again. "Ah'm talkin', here." Her attention turned back to her fiancee. "Erik... Ah love you, fer carin'. All right? Ah ain't faultin' y'all. But yer stupid angry, an' we need ta know if'n we got 'em all." Meeting his gaze, she gave him a warm smile and then dragged him close and kissed him. Thoroughly. "Ah'm all right, all right?"

As she smiled at Erik once more, Professor Swift joined them by Raphael. Ignoring the two lovers, he looked down at the mulatto. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, Monsieur Chaney. Your cooperation would be most appreciated."

There was hate in Chaney's eyes as he glared up at the Professor. "Fuck you," he snarled. "I've got no reason to help..." The rest of his words were drowned out in a scream as Sam smashed her boot heel into the heater burn on his thigh, and ground it around.

"Ah kin think o' a couple o' reasons," she said, smiling sweetly.

"You... you think I'm afraid of pain, you Mexican bitch?" he snapped.

Lifting an eyebrow, Sam thumbed the hammer back on her Colt and fired. Raphael screamed in pain as the .45 slug smashed his thumb into unrecognizable slime. "Yep," she said casually, cocking the automatic again. "Most folk are." She fired again, blowing off his index finger. "Them folk y'all murdered, an' that girl y'raped first. They were." Another shot, and his ring finger was blasted away. "Now," she said, squatting and jamming the hot metal of the barrel against his cheek. "Like Professor Swift said, we got us some questions. Y'all might wanna reconsider whether or not y'wanna answer."
 
Kieran took Colin's coat but waved away his concerns. "It was tactical," he assured him. "Professor'n'Madame," he pronounced it as one word, still slurring under the influence of the drug, "woulna grudge me a li'l tail iff'n it was dangerous. I mean, you see why, right?" he turned his cocky grin up to the captain, then frowned at his expression.

"S'matter love? You're all upset." His exaggerated pout would have been comical were it not for the circumstances. "C'mere." He held out his arms in invitation. "Come tell ol' snuggle bear wha's wrong." He was clearly still off his gourd to be speaking in such a way where others might overhear him. "Why're you upset?"

~*~

"Leave me, Samantha! Leave me!" Erik tried to rip out of her grasp while it hadn't yet registered that he'd never dared to order her about before. He despised men like that, who ordered their wives around as though they were servants. Never mind Sam would have kicked his ass if he'd ever tried anyway, but that was just common decency. His teeth were still clenched, muscles still taut, when she declared her love for him and kissed him and insisted that she was alright. "What, you thought I was going to kill him so quickly?" His smile was a bit deranged; he was aware that she was fine, that their baby was probably fine, that they needed Chaney alive for now. But that unchained rage, the unhinged animal, still hadn't been put back where it belonged and it wanted blood.

"Herr Schmidt," Anne Marie rasped, joining them just as Sam blew off Raphael's index finger, "why don't we take a walk?" Her cough was painful to listen to, and the rattling, wheezing breath which struggled in her chest was just as bad. But she pretended nothing was wrong and Erik didn't have the presence of mind at the moment to ask her whether she was alright. He was dazed as she looped her arm in his and started steering him away. "We are not the torturing types you and I, hm?" She glanced over her shoulder at Algie before leading Erik along the treeline away from the wailing man.

"Madame let me go." Erik's voice had an air of forced calm. He moved to leave her presence but her arm stayed firmly looped in his, and her quiet authority was such that he didn't dare manhandle her even in his current state. "That beast must die."

"And so he will," she promised. "I will even ensure you are the one to do it, if that is your wish. But you are in an emotional state and appear to be much the worse for wear even before we met up on the road. I won't have you do now what you will regret when you are yourself again. Do you wish to talk about what happened at the voodooists'?"

"Not particularly."

Anne Marie pursed her lips, but said nothing and instead continued steering the irate German along the treeline, away from the direction of the house.
 
Professor Swift gently gripped the Ranger's wrist. "Samantha," he said softly, "this is not the way. We need answers..."

"That son of a bitch," Sam snarled, "he..."

"Yes, he and his colleagues did," the Professor agreed. "But we need answers, to ensure we stamp them out utterly. Torture is not the way to obtain them."

"Ah kin make him talk," she snapped back.

"I've no doubt of that," the Professor replied. "But is what he will say the truth, or simply what he believes you wish to hear to make the pain stop?" He stared at her, meeting her angry gaze unflinchingly. "We seek justice, Samantha. Justice for the victims of these beasts. Not revenge." His eyes shifted to Anne Marie for a moment. "Revenge lays no ghosts to rest."

Breathing hard, Sam wanted to argue. But he was right, damn him. So, grudgingly, she holstered her automatic. "Right. Go ahead."

With a nod, Algernon squatted down next to Raphael Chaney. "Well now, sir," he said, watching the man cradle his maimed hand, "I still have those questions. Why did you do what you did?"

Chaney looked up, at and past him towards Sam. "For... Ghede," he whispered. "The Klansmen, Duvernay and the others, they wanted... wanted to start a race war. Make the white.. white men hate us. Make them... put us back. In our place."

"What?" Algernon sounded confused, now. "Then, why would you..?"

"Because!" Chaney hissed, staring up at him. "Ghede willed it! We... we outnumber the whites! And Ghede, Ghede is of Africa! He has no love for the white man, or his white god. It... the race war... would have devoured them. Devoured... all the whites... We, we would have been free!"

"You're mad," Algernon stated. "You..."

"I am very nearly a slave myself!" Chaney barked, glaring at the Professor. "One mistake, one! And I could be a slave! It is the common punishment, for those of my blood! What does the life of a few white cows matter, when my race suffers?"

"It mattered ta her," Sam snapped.

"We should have taken you, instead," Chaney snarled, insane hatred in his eyes. "Not that substitute bitch, You."

"Right." Sam raised her automatic, aiming between his eyes. "Y'all done heard enough, Professor?" Then she whirled as a shot rang out. Staggering from the still burning mansion came a stumbling figure gripping a revolver, face a mask of blood and broken bone. "Duverney!" she gasped, bringing her own pistol around.


"Yes, I'm bloody well upset!" Colin snapped, stomping back towards Kieran. "Listen to yourself! Making excuses for your behavior, for thinking with your dick instead of your brain!" He glared down at the drugged Irishman. "Tactical? You were investigating someone who might have been the ringleader of this cult! Who was the ringleader of the cult, who used drugs to paralyze and murder people! What is wrong with.."

Rapid gunshots rang out. He looked, to see Sam calmly firing at their captive. Clearly she wasn't killing him, because he was now screaming as the Professor intervened. Shaking his head, he stared down at Kieran. "I care about you, you great oaf," he sighed. "But you're going to get yourself killed, acting like this. Hell, it seems like you're trying to get yourself killed."

Another gunshot, this time from the burning house. He looked, in time to see a man with a pistol stumble from the blazing ruin. As if in slow motion he watched the man fire again, and...



Sam couldn't control her cry of pain as the bullet tore into her chest, hitting like a red-hot hammer. She staggered, feeling blood soak her shirt and coat, her right arm going numb under the impact as pain flared through her shoulder and back. Despite her best efforts, she felt the automatic slip from nerveless fingers. A shocked attempt to crouch and grab it failed as her legs buckled, sending her to her knees. "Fuck," she gasped, her voice a bare whisper. "Hurts... like... hell..." Chaotic thoughts jumbled through her mind as she groped for the pistol with her left hand. Erik. Her baby. No. Can't... can't find... the gun...

Duverney made a distant choking sound that might have been laughter, and shifted his aim. As she watched, the thunder of another gunshot roared out.
 
"You care 'bout me?" Kieran's stupid grin made it clear that was really all that had registered. His vision was gradually becoming less blurry and strength was returning to his muscles but his mind was as foggy as ever. "I'm not tryna--" A shot rang out from a different direction than before and he stopped mid-sentence, frowning and trying to look around Colin at what was going on. "Oh fuck..." The pirate struggled to his feet as Sam hit her knees. Stronger but still wobbly he gripped Colin's coat as he moved forward.

"Gotta help," he slurred, staggering forward. "Sommun's hurt."

~*~

Erik was gone. They'd spun at the first report of unfamiliar ordinance and Anne Marie had been able to make out the hulking silhouette of Duverney against the house engulfed in its inferno. Upon taking in the situation Erik had slipped from her grip and she'd only made it a few paces after him before her chest tightened and she doubled over in a painful coughing fit.

There wasn't much pain as the bullet lodged itself in Erik's side, not much more than a bee sting. He'd seen his fiance fall to her knees after the first shot and that was all he needed to see before the bloodied sheriff became the target in the center of his tunnel vision as he raced past Sam. Words called out to him didn't register, neither did the impact of his tackle; one moment he was rushing toward Duverney, the next they were on the ground struggling for control of the gun. The eruption of pain in his head as he headbutted him distracted from the dull throb of the shoulder which had probably become dislocated in the tackle. The two men wrestled over the gun and each other, rolling in the grass as the heat from the house crept over them all until finally Erik managed to pinch a nerve in Duverney's wrist which forced him to drop the weapon.

"I'm not going to let you die quickly," Erik hissed, grabbing up the gun and shoving it into the sheriff's gut. "I'm going to watch you suffer and I'm going to enjoy it." There was little kick when he pulled the trigger. The sheriff coughed up blood but was very clearly still breathing. Erik knelt on his chest, reaching down to press a finger into the gut wound until finally Duverney gurgled then expired.

"Erik!" Anne Marie had recovered enough to hobble over to Sam and had stripped a shoe and one of her stockings, wadding it up and putting pressure on the shoulder wound. It didn't look as though it had hit an artery, but they wouldn't know until they'd gotten her to a hospital. Erik staggered over to Sam in Anne Marie's lap and fell by her side, taking her hand. He could feel her ring under his palm.

"Schatze?" he choked, pain from all of his injuries beginning to ebb into consciousness as the blind rage slowly began to fade.
 
"Erik," Sam said, her voice sounding strained and weak, "y'all don'... don' gotta look at me... like that." She winced as Anne Marie applied more pressure. "Ah done been shot before. Hell, Ah'm sure y'all noticed the scars..." She tried to laugh, then gasped and gritted her teeth as the attempt pulled at the bullet wound. "Course, this ain't no picnic."

There was a crackling sound in the silence as the Professor shot Raphael through the brain with a heat ray. Then he turned and crouched down, eying Sam closely. "Did it go through?" he asked.

"Reckon...AH! Reckon it didn't," she replied, gritting her teeth. "Kin still feel it, in mah shoulder."

"Good," the Professor said with a nod. "Then, Erik..." He looked at the man, then shook his head. "No, Colin. Go fetch the carpetbag from my trunk." Colin nodded and turned, then stopped for a moment as the Professor called after him, "the black carpetbag, mind!"

"So... what's th' plan, Prof?" Sam grunted out, squeezing Erik's hand.

"First," he said, "we're going to apply a better bandage. No offense intended, Madame LaMonte, but sterile gauze will serve better than your stocking, lovely as it may be." He winked a little at that. "And then you're going to drink a great deal of water as we rush back to the embassy, where we will remove the bullet and stitch your wound."

"Why the embassy?" Colin asked as he returned.

"Because I've no wish to explain to the authorities how Samantha came to have a bullet lodged in her," the Professor replied, opening the bag. "And because we can't be arrested there. Now, while I bandage her up, would you go and pour Kieran into one of the cars?" Withdrawing a clasp knife, he opened it and began cutting her long coat and then her shirt away. "I don't want to accidentally forget him."

"Tarnation," Sam grumbled, feeling a little lightheaded. "Ah liked that shirt."
 
Anne Marie managed to crack a tiny smile at Algie's comment about her stockings before breaking into another coughing fit as Colin came back with the carpet bag. "We will take you shopping, chere," she assured her gently, patting her non-injured shoulder. "Erik!" As Professor Swift took care of Sam, Anne Marie moved to Erik.

"It's nothing," Erik insisted, trying to wave her away. The pain in his side was excruciating now that the natural anesthetics were wearing off. It was entirely possible the bullet had lodged in his spleen, but he was certainly no doctor. "Tend to Samantha."

"Not with a bullet in your side," she retorted firmly, rummaging in the carpet bag for bandages and carefully pulling his hand away. Once Algernon was done with the knife she carefully cut away Erik's shirt after gingerly pulling his hand away from his side.

"It's a good thing we're secure in our relationship, ja Schatze?" he joked grimly, making a noise of discomfort as Anne Marie wrapped the bandage around his middle. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off he was beginning to feel very tired and very cold. "Else we both might feel threatened."

"Where're we gon'?" Kieran slurred as Colin dragged him off. "They're...they're hurt..."
 
“Whee...” Sam chuckled at Anne-Marie’s promise, then winced as the laughter strained her wounded shoulder. “Damn. Only... only hurts when Ah laugh.” But she sobered quickly as she realized Erik had been shot as well, trying to get up and go to him.

“Stay where you are until I apply this bandage,” the Professor snapped, pushing her back down, “or I will make you stay down.”

“But,” she insisted, “Erik’s...”

“Neither pregnant nor likely to perish,” the Professor interrupted. “Now stop squirming and let me work, because the sooner I finish with you the faster I may tend to him.” With that he finished cutting open her shirt and began applying bandages.

"It's a good thing we're secure in our relationship, ja Schatze?" Erik laughed, gripping her hand as Anne Marie wrapped a bandage around his stomach. "Else we both might feel threatened."

“Nah,” she replied with a grunt of pain as the Professor tied off the gauze. She gave Anne Marie a quick smile. “Yer too young fer Anne-Marie.”

“And what about me?” the Professor huffed.

“Y’all ain’t dark or German enough fer mah likin’,” Sam replied, squeezing Erik’s hand. “An’ you’d go crazy jes’ listenin’ at me talk. Mah French, fer example, is awful.”

The Professor glanced at the bandages on Erik, then nodded. “We need to get you both to the car. Can you walk, or should I have Captain Drake...”

“Ah kin walk,” Sam insisted gamely, after a quick look at Erik. “Jes’... keep an eye on me. Jes’ In case.”


Later...

Colin rose as the Professor emerged from the embassy conference room he’d converted into an improved see surgery. “How are they?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Algernon answered, fetching himself a glass from the sideboard and pouring himself some water. “They’ll need time to rest and heal, of course, but the bullets have been removed and the wounds stitched. Both were fortunate - there was no organ damage or breakages, so they should recover completely.” He downed the entire glass of water. “Assuming they listen, and don’t push themselves.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine Sam pushing herself,” Colin replied dryly. “Or being so headstrong we to ignore good advice.”

“Of course not,” Algernon replied in an equally dry tone. “Perhaps I should sedate her. Just to make sure.”
 
Anne Marie wasn't quite sure about Professor Swift's assertion that Erik wasn't likely to perish, but she wasn't going to contradict him. Sam was pregnant and had been shot. When Sam declared Erik to young for her, though, she coughed indignantly.

"How old do you--" She was interrupted by a coughing fit and managed to wheeze once she had gotten her breath back. "--do you people think I am?" She wanted to assure Algie that he was a perfectly desirable companion, but knew that it wouldn't be wise to say anything in front of the children, regardless of how injured they were. "Well, this is why we leave the French to me, non?" she pointed out as she helped Erik to his feet.

~*~

"You joke, amie, but you may just have to sedate her," Anne Marie pointed out grimly. She hadn't stopped wheezing and had a headache which felt like she was being stabbed in the eyes, but had insisted on waiting for Algernon to finish tending to their teammates. "Kieran is resting, by the way. I am sure he will be feeling like an ass but no worse for wear in the morning." She stood to cross to the sideboard to make herself a drink. "And you two? How do you fare?" Madame Lamonte made to cross back to her seat, but paused in the middle of the floor and swayed a little. "I am feeling quite...quite..." Her tongue felt thick but she was mostly concerned about breaking the embassy's glass as the floor rushed up to meet her.
 
Dropping his glass, Algernon lunges across the room and caught Anne Marie before she hit the ground. Colin was there a moment later, helping lower her carefully, and it took the Professor an act of sheer will not to snap at the act. “Is She all right?” Colin asked, glancing over her with obvious concern. “Was she hit, and simply...?”

“No,” Algernon replied, looking her over carefully. “There is no blood and no sign of injury, and she is no fool. She would have said something, were she injured.”

“Then what happened?” Colin demanded.

“Fetch me the water from the sidebar,” cane the response. “And a cloth - one of the napkins will do.” As the Captain rose to do his bidding, Algernon laud his head on her breast and listened to her breathing. Then he examined her face and shoulders and arms, frowning a little. “Heat stroke,” he decided as Colin returned with the water. “And smoke inhalation.”

“All right,” Colin said, nodding. “What should we do for her, then.”

“Help me carry her,” The Professor said, wetting a cloth and draping it over her forehead. “We’ll take her into Samantha’s room. There’s a spare bed I was going to put Erik in, but the Ambassador wouldn’t hear of it.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Said that, fiancée or not, it smacked of scandal to allow an unmarried man and woman to share the same room.”

Colin stopped, taking Anne Marie’s ankles and lifting at the Professor’s signal. “Smacked?” He snorted laughter. “I dare say they’ve gone a bit beyond smacked.”

“Perhaps,” Algernon agreed. “But we may have caused a headache for him. I chose not to push the issue.”


Sam woke slowly, consciousness creeping in by stages. The first thing she noticed was the throbbed big ache in her shoulder, and the way her right arm was strapped to her chest. The second thing she noticed was a need to pee. Forcing her eyes open, she tried to get up. Gentle hands pushed her back. “Take it easy, mum,” instructed an unfamiliar voice.

It took a second to focus on the speaker, pretty young woman in a nurse’s smock. “Gotta... OW!” She barked as she tried to use her right arm. “Ah... gotta, you know. Go.”

“Oh, yes,” the nurse said. “Here, let me help you. It’s a perfectly natural thing for a lady in your delicate condition to need to...”

“Perfectly natural fer anyone in any condition, Ah’d think,” Sam retorted with a smile. But she let the woman help her up, and to the lavatory, and back to her bed. And not then did she notice Anne Marie. “Where’s Erik?” She asked. “An’... is she all right?”

“Mr. Schmidt is next door,” the nurse replied. “I’ll help you visit, once he wakes up. And Madame LaMonte is recovering from heat exhaustion. She’ll be fine with rest. Do you need anything?”

“Uhm... water,” Sam decided. “An’ something’ fer mah shoulder. It hurts like hell.”

“I’ll see what I can do, mum.” The nurse bobbed a little curtesy, and left the room.

Sam shifted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable way to position her aching shoulder. “Shoulda asked fer a book, too,” She grumbled. “Take mah mind offa mah arm.” A change in Anne Marie’s breathing caught her attention and, with a modicum of low swearing, she managed to roll over in time to see the other woman open her eyes. “Salut!” She called, enunciating carefully. “Je me sens comme de la merde. Et toi?”

Then she grinned broadly. “See? Ain’t gotta leave all th’ French ta you.”
 
Anne Marie had vague memories of treatment: a glass cup over her nose and mouth with a woman in white pumping some sort of bladder and a cool feeling on her face. Mostly she was feeling fuzzy, thick, and disoriented. It took her a few moments to remember where she had been before and come to conclusions based on the most logical course Algie would have taken.

"Algie je..." she muttered, but winced at the way her own voice sounded in her head. Sam was speaking from somewhere to her right and it took a concerted effort to turn her head to look at her and squint. "Quoi...?" She blinked hard a few times, then shook her head very slowly. "Je ne me sens pas ... Je pense que je peux être malade. Je suis très chaud."

Her brain was still moving slow, but little by little she began to notice things around her and gradually remember English. The bed was very soft and it felt like perhaps Algernon had been kind enough to go through her luggage to find her nightgown. Very, very slowly she shifted into a quarter-upright position and moved her tongue around in her mouth.

"I am tres thirsty," she finally rasped, blinking hard and trying to work up saliva in her mouth. "How is your shoulder cherie?"
 
“Th’ nurse is fetchin’ some water now,” Sam replied. “Reckon there’ll be enough ta share, an’ iffn they ain’t then Ah was coextensive she’ll rustle up sommore.” She started to reach up and scratch her scalp, hissed in pain as she jostled her wounded shoulder, then shifted around and used her left hand. “Shoulder feels like hell. But th’ kinda hell where they already done dug the bullet out, not th’ kinda special kinda hell where yer waitin’ fer them ta get started.” She gave her bandaged shoulder a sour stare. “Reckon...”

She was about to say more, but the nurse returned carrying a pitcher and a couple of glasses. “Here you are, mum,” She called. “Oh. Madame LaMonte! Do you require anything?”

“She asked fer some water,” Sam told her.

“Certainly.” She poured two glasses and handed them out. “And I checked in on your young man, mum. He’s still asleep, but the doctor says he should heal cleanly. Now, i’ll Be back in an hour to see what you’ll have for tea, and if you need anything just ring the bell.”

“Ah here,” Sam grumbled, “ta have mah arm all fixed up. Guess it’s a good thing Erik don’t mind mah scars none, cause Ah’ll probably have a few more outta this.” She sipped her water, letting it swish around her mouth. “How about you? Pick up any scars ta show yer fellah?”
 
"Merci." Anne Marie took the water with gratitude and downed one glass to quench her parched throat, then had the nurse pour another before she left. It felt like laying on an ice block in the desert, and she rested her head against the headboard while trying to parse out what exactly it was Sam was saying. Some nonsense about scars. She felt the old disdain for the Ranger creeping back in as she had to actively concentrate on her words. They had made a lot of progress in the past year, but there were still remnants of the old classist tendencies. Then Sam asked about whether she'd picked up any scars.

"Pardon?" She carefully turned her head and arched an eyebrow. Her hair was disheveled, she was sans makeup, the fire had dried her skin, and she was in her nightgown; she wasn't feeling her most charming nor her most deceptive. This was unfair. "Samantha, I have a number of scars but no...fellah, as you put it, for several reasons. Men tend to be intimidated by me, something I am sure you are familiar with yourself, and I don't exactly have the sort of work I can come home and share with a partner. And furthermore there are those for whom a committed, monogamous, long-term relationship is ideal and works. I am not one of those people." She sipped her water delicately, realizing that she was protesting too much. She didn't have to explain herself or justify herself to Sam, and until last Christmas this had truly been her outlook on long-term relationships for herself.

"But no, I do not have any new scars."
 
“Ah’m right glad ta hear it.” Sam sipped more of her water before changing the subject. “An’ so y’know, Ah Reckon we’re bright about th’ same age, give or take. Ah jes’ thought y’was older, Back when we first met, cause y’all seemed so, so confident. An’ poised, Ah think th’ word is. Lady-like, y’know?” She chuckled. “Reckon that’s why Ah hated y’all so much, then. Y’all were everythin’ Ah wished Ahcould be, deep down, an’ Ah resented th’ fuck outta you fer it.”

She shifted around a little, trying to get comfortable once more. “So when Ah said Erik was a little young fer you, it weren’t no knock on you. Ah was funnin’ him, is all. He’s two years younger’n me, an’ Ah Reckon he couldn’t handle her profession if’n Ah practiced it.” Another chuckle. “Hell, Ah don’ know if’n Ah could handle yer profession. At least he on’t seem threatened by mah likin’ women no more.”

Admittedly, it hadn’t come up a whole lot since Christmas. Oh, she’d enjoyed being able to look more, but Jackie had been her only woman. Maybe when they were both healed up, she’d work up the nerve to go pick up another woman and bring her home. Kind of a present. “Ah love him dearly,” she continued. “But Erik jes’ don’ strike me as yer type. He ain’t no Algernon Swift, after all.”
 
Anne Marie smiled when Sam explained her reasons for thinking she was older. "Well Samantha, that's all just down to breeding and training. You saw how much we were able to transform you in a few months; imagine a lifetime of it. And I admit, I didn't exactly make myself approachable, did I? Classism is a pervasive and often insidious mindset." Her smile turned a bit rueful as Sam went on to explain her reasons for suggesting she was too old for Erik.

"Not many men could handle any of my professions singly, never mind take them together. Secrets and lies are no foundation for a relationship," she agreed. "But I am glad he is no longer threatened by your more Sapphic tendencies.

"Ah love him dearly, but Erik jes' don' strike me as yer type," she continued.

"I'm not sure I have a 'type,'" Anne Marie admitted, "but neither can I say I've ever felt much attraction to him, so if I do then no, I imagine he is not."

"He ain't no Algernon Swift, after all."

Anne Marie choked on her water as she took a sip, then once she recovered turned her head carefully again to stare hard at Sam. "And what makes you say that?" she asked as casually as she could. Had she not been ill perhaps it would have sounded more convincing to her own ears. "Professor Swift and I are old friends it's true, and I have known him most of my life. We are longtime partners, we work very well together and like each other immensely, and he taught me everything I know. But fraternization issues aside what on earth makes you think he's my 'type'? Particularly since he is old enough to be my father?" Of this last fact she was very much aware, but for the most part age was just a number. Not that she would prey on children, obviously, but after age twenty or twenty-five, it was really more a matter of compatibility of spirit (however little Algie believed in the spirit) rather than age, wasn't it?
 
“Ah love him dearly,” she said. “But Erik jes’ don’ strike me as yer type."

"I'm not sure I have a 'type,'" Anne Marie admitted, "but neither can I say I've ever felt much attraction to him, so if I do then no, I imagine he is not."

Sam smiled at Anne Marie's protests. "Ah imagine not. He ain’t no Algernon Swift, after all.”

The sound of the other woman choking on her water was all the confirmation she needed of what she had pieced together, and it took Anne Marie a minute to regain her composure. "And what makes you say that?" she demanded, trying to sound convincing.

"This an' that," came Sam's smug reply.

"Professor Swift and I are old friends it's true," Anne Marie insisted, trying hard to sound like she meant it, "and I have known him most of my life. We are longtime partners, we work very well together and like each other immensely, and he taught me everything I know. But fraternization issues aside what on earth makes you think he's my 'type'? Particularly since he is old enough to be my father?"

"Age ain't hardly got nuthin' ta do wit' love, does it?" Sam retorted with a disapproving stare. "Seems like you, of all people Ah could be talkin' ta 'bout this, would know that. So yeh kin stop pretendin' it's a reason Ah might be wrong, Anne Marie. But what else might make me think y'all are an item?" She held up her fingers, and began counting off on them. "Let's start wit' th' way y'all were holdin' hands, th' day we all went ice-skatin' at the Professor's place." She waved off the beginnings of a protest. "Nuh-uh, don't. Friends kin hold hands, yeah, but it ain't particularly common fer friends ta hold hands like this..." She held up both hands and laced the fingers together. "An' thet very same day, y'described yer ideal man as soundin' a whole lot like th' Professor."

Stretching and shifting, then wincing as her shoulder pulled once more, she continued. "Now, that's all circumstantial. Ain't it? An', Ah reckon', so's th' way Ah done seen yeh slippin' outta his room a coupla nights back, real damn early in th' mornin'." She looked at Anne Marie apologetically. "Not spyin'. Ah don' sleep as well as Ah might, what wit' th' baby an' all. So Ah was up fetchin' somethin' ta drink, an' saw yeh. Coulda been innocent, Ah suppose, but that was a Gawd-damn sexy nightgown y'all had on, fer an innocent meetin' ta plan strategy. An' y'all been real convincin' playin' at husband an' wife."

Her triumphant expression turned serious. "So why not jes' be honest 'bout it. Ain't like anyone on th' team's gonna think less o y'all."
 
"We were showing you how to skate without falling cul-par-dessus-la-bouilloire!" Anne Marie protested when Sam pointed out that they had held hands. "And friends, good friends, lifelong friends--"

"Nuh-uh, don't," Sam waved away her protests. "Friends kin hold hands, yeah, but it ain't particularly common to hold hands like this..." She held her hands up with her fingers laced. Anne Marie snorted derisively but said nothing for fear of further giving herself away. She had never been caught like this, at least not in a way she wasn't able to distract her interrogator with her feminine wiles. When she mentioned that she had described her ideal man as Algernon, she waved it away.

"I am wearing the same nightgown now," she protested, not convinced that Sam had not been spying, "so am I trying to seduce you then? As for the time, I do not sleep well and we had been talking. And Professor Swift and I have been in espionage together since before you dared to even dream of becoming a Ranger. If we were not a convincing pair then we would be truly terrible at our jobs, would we not?"

Sam ignored this, unconvinced. "So why not jes' be honest 'bout it? Ain't like anyone on th' team's gonna think less o y'all."

"Because a relationship with Algernon Swift would be more complicated than you think," Anne Marie countered stiffly. "Because it would be a distraction to the team. Because it would get us both reassigned. Because it would be the pinnacle of unprofessional. Because Professor Swift is an intensely private man, and most of all because we both have very dangerous enemies and making such a relationship known would put us both in more danger than you know. I could not bear the loss of such a dear friend, Samantha. If one of us were to be hurt or murdered, especially on account of a romantic tie, and the other would become a person I do not think you would like or recognize." She fixed the Ranger with a stern, steady gaze. "That is why we would not be honest about it, were such a relationship to actually exist, Samantha." She held Sam's gaze for a few seconds longer before taking another sip of water.

"So," she said casually as she set the glass down, "from their bruises I take it Eric and Collin have finally had it out over the good captain's little crush on you? Well, I say little...you could see it from Space, I'm sure." Sam, after all, was not the only one who was particularly observant. She smiled at Sam's reaction. "What, did you not know? Poor man's been absolutely besotted for years."
 
Sam nodded, the triumph in having forced as close to an admission as she'd ever git draining away as Anne Marie explained why she and the Professor couldn't be open in their relationship. "Ah dunno," she said slowly. "Ah might recognize that person. Cause Ah kin imagine what Ah'd be like, if'n somethin' happened ta Erik." She considered that, brooding as she thought about him lying next door, still unconscious after a slug had been dug out of his gut. "Yeah. Yeah, Ah think Ah'd recognize that person real well." If Duvernay had killed Erik, she'd tear New Orleans apart looking for the man.

"So," she said, tearing her thoughts away, "Ah reckon it's a good thing Ah misinterpreted what Ah was seein'." Pushing herself up in bed, she turned to look straight at Anne Marie. "Ah never reckoned on th' fact that y'all might be havin' trouble sleepin', same as Ah am. An, well, Ah'd hate ta think Ah might seperate good friends or put y'all in danger by speculatin'. So," she nodded once. "Ah'll jes' assume y'all are a real good partnership, an' say no more." She reached for her glass. "Ain't my place ta cause y'all trouble."

"So," Anne Marie said, changing the subject as she put her own glass down, "from their bruises I take it Eric and Collin have finally had it out over the good captain's little crush on you?" Now it was Sam's turn to choke on the water, sputtering and gasping as the French woman continued on with her own note of smug triumph. "Well, I say little...you could see it from Space, I'm sure."

"Ah... that is... uhm..." Sam coughed.

"What," Anne Marie laughed, "did you not know? Poor man's been absolutely besotted for years."

"Ah, no. Ah didn't." She wiped water from her mouth and chin, then laughed sheepishly. "Reckon that's what Ah get fer tryin' ta show off, ain't it? But, yeah. They did. Squabblin' like a coupla schoolboys in Celine's basement, usin' Ghede as an excuse ta thump their chests an' wave their dicks around." She rubbed her scabbed lip with her thumb, absently. "Or, maybe there was somethin' ta it. Cause Ghede, or the mood, or somethin' got all up in mah head as well. Made me confess a few things Ah'd never 'ave told Erik otherwise. Things... things Ah had trouble tellin' you 'bout, in our sessions." Like how her brassy exterior covered fear, and how much she wished she'd been born a man.

Shaking her head, she sighed. "But, no. Ah didn't have no damn clue, not until he said it. An', maybe, if he'd said it sooner... maybe things'd be different? Maybe it woulda been Erik sayin' it instead? But..." She shook her head, and tried not to think too hard what it might be like to have both men at the same time. "Naw. Day late an' a dollar short, an all that." Then she smirked. "Course, if'n you tried ta seduce me, well, Erik's mighty all right with that."
 
"No you would not," Anne Marie countered when Sam declared that she would recognize the person either she or Algie might become. "The Professor you know is a very different man than the one I first met, and you would have very little respect for the man I knew. I had little respect for him, for a time." She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then shook her head. "Mais non. I understand the sort of person you would become if anyone hurt Erik, and I can respect that. But you have seen neither of us truly hurt, and you have no idea of our lives between missions for the Meridian Society. If you did you would perhaps not call us friends." It was a fact which made her sad, but was a fact nonetheless.

"So," Sam said at length, "Ah reckon it's a good thing Ah misinterpreted what Ah was seein'."

"Mais oui."

An, well, Ah'd hate ta think Ah might separate good friends or put y'all in danger by speculatin'. So, Ah'll jes' assume y'all are a real good partnership, an' say no more. Ain't my place ta cause y'all trouble."

"No it is not," Anne Marie agreed tacitly, "and I think that is a very wise assumption. So, from their bruises I take it Eric and Collin have finally had it out over the good captain's little crush on you?" It was satisfying to watch Sam sputter in her own turn. Yes, it was what she got, but only a fraction. A hint of her previous, disdainful and frankly nasty attitude toward Sam had returned when the Ranger pushed about her relationship and hadn't completely subsided yet. Sam mentioned that she had been forced to confess things she never would have otherwise, things that she'd had trouble telling Anne Marie.

"Things you had trouble telling me? You mean like your gender dysphoria?" she asked casually after her assessment of Collin's being a "day late and a dollar short." That Sam wished she had been born a man had never come up in their sessions, though Anne Marie had been gradually steering her toward that. She took another sip of her water and raised her eyebrows mildly. "Well, if you were a man I'm sure things wouldn't have worked out quite so well with Erik, but then perhaps Collin would have a chance in Hell with you. I don't imagine he's going to take very kindly to Kieran's many infidelities, now that he knows."

Anne Marie knew it was petty, but she felt the urge to get another jab in to make the magnitude of it even. She had come to trust Sam much more than she had this time last year, but her indiscretion at Christmas regarding Kieran and Collin's secret made her uneasy about trusting the Ranger with her own. Such indiscretion with this relationship could get her transferred out of the unit and put them both in grave danger, so she felt a little justified in her momentary pettiness. Letting it go, she continued to turn the topic.

"I've been in rather a moral quandry, considering my eh...deeper connection with Kieran," the corners of her lips turned up in a small smirk, "and since Collin deserved to know, especially since he seems more invested in their relationship. But now I think they shall have a lot of talking to do."
 
"Things you had trouble telling me? You mean like your gender dysphoria?" Anne Marie asked casually.

“Mah what?” Sam asked blankly. “Mah... gender dis-four-ee-ah?” She tried to scratch her head, then swore as she pulled the bullet wound in her shoulder. “That... Ah reckon that means somethin’ like wishin’ yeh was born a man instead o’ a woman?” She sighed, then chuckled wryly. “Bang on, Annie. Reckon Ah outta know better ‘en tryin’ ta one-up y’all with bein’ clever.”

Anne Marie took another sip of her water and raised her eyebrows mildly. "Well, if you were a man I'm sure things wouldn't have worked out quite so well with Erik, but then perhaps Collin would have a chance in Hell with you.”

“Yeah.” She shifted a uncomfortably. Damnit, knowing Colin had been interested in her like that made it hard not to speculate about him. “Yeah, maybe. Sure wouldn’t have been Erik, Ah kin tell y’all that.” She rested her good hand on her stomach, feeling the barely-noticeable bulge. “Sure wouldn’t have been.”

“I don't imagine he's going to take very kindly to Kieran's many infidelities, now that he knows."

“Naw. Reckon’ he won’t. Colin... he seemed like he was gettin’ serious.” A sudden, horrible thought struck her. “Aw, Gawd... Ah hope Ah didn’t amuse that, lettin’ it slip like Sh did.” She shivered st the thought. “Ah really thought everyone knew, y’know. It jes’ seemed so, so obvious.”

"I've been in rather a moral quandry, considering my eh...deeper connection with Kieran," the corners of her lips turned up in a small smirk, "and since Collin deserved to know, especially since he seems more invested in their relationship. But now I think they shall have a lot of talking to do."

Sam opened her mouth, then closed it and considered her words carefully. “I knew th’ two o’ you was close,” she said slowly, “ but Ah always figgered it fer a professional relationship. Like, You was a’helpin’ him wit’ his own issues, sane as you’re helpin’ me wit’ mine. Way Ah figgure it, if’n that’s all it was, y’don’ gotta day nuthin’. Ah only told Erik ‘cause Ah wanted him ta know, after all.”
 
Anne Marie nodded at Sam's emphasis that she and Erik wouldn't have ended up together were she born a man. "He is from a traditional family, cherie," she said gently. "He loves you very much, that much is clear, and if he takes issue with your proclivities I have not seen it. There is a bit more of a taboo on men like Colin and Kieran and he doesn't feel for them the way he does for you, so he will simply need some time to get used to it. I wouldn't fret too much." She gave a reassuring smile. "And please don't call me Annie." That was reserved for Algernon, and him alone; she'd even drawn that line with Gustav, though he'd ignore it when he was in his darkest of moods.

"I don't imagine he's going to take very kindly to Kieran's many infidelities, now that he knows," she said after a moment, trying to draw Sam away from uncomfortable thoughts which were surely beginning to encroach. When Sam considered her role in it, when she'd outed them at Christmas, Anne Marie waved it away. "It was an indiscretion from which you seem to have learned. Kieran was slipping away before that, I think, and you had nothing to do with it. Spending Christmas with Colin instead of his siblings probably struck him as moving more quickly than he wished toward commitment and that scared him. I've been in rather a moral quandry myself, considering my eh...deeper connection with Kieran, and since Collin deserved to know, especially since he seems more invested in their relationship. But now I think they shall have a lot of talking to do."

"I knew th' two o' you was close," Sam replied slowly, wisely beginning to consider her words before she spoke, "but Ah always figgered it fer a professional relationship. Like, you was a'helpin' him wit' his own issues, same as you're helpin' me wit' mine."

"It was, in a way," she admitted with a shrug.

"Way Ah figgure it, if'n that's all it was, y'don' gotta say nuthin'. Ah only told Erik 'cause Ah wanted him ta know, after all."

Anne Marie considered that for a few long moments. "The past year has been an interesting one for me, interpersonally speaking," she said at last, "and my relationships with most of the team are changed from when they were this time last year. You are all colleagues, but you are also friends. If, for instance, I noticed Erik beginning to stray and could not convince him to tell you himself, I would feel obligated to tell you. And vice-versa if it were you. But with Kieran it is different. We have been friends and lovers for many years, and it has taken the better part of a decade for him to entirely trust me. I admit that he shouldn't, but he does and that allows me to help him so I certainly won't push him away. He has always been the inconstant type, and it does not surprise me in the least that he still is after starting a relationship with a coworker...But Colin deserved to know before this, considering how serious he did seem to be getting. But if I had told him I would have lost ten years of trust-building with Kieran." She sighed and pushed a stray bit of hair out of her face. "Well, it's out of my hands now. And so long as neither of us says anything about having known, it's entirely up to them, nes pas?"
 
"Je suppose que c'est," Sam replied sadly. "Cela ne veut pas dire que j'aime ça." There was still a touch of a Cajun sound to her French, but the diction lessons were paying off much more obviously than they were in English. "Ah, y'know, Ah like Colin. An' no, Ah don' mean that way. He reminds me o' my brother Jimmy, jes' a bit. He's a good friend, an' Ah hate ta see him get hurt, y'know." She shook her head. "Still, Ah reckon yer right. Might do more harm'n good, fer Kieran."

The door opened, and the nurse peered in. "Miss Cavendish?"

"Uhm..." Sam looked momentarily blindsided by that. "Yep?"

"Mr. Schmitt is awake, now. Did you want to.." She looked alarmed when Sam lept to her feet, and even more alarmed when Sam staggered and collapsed back onto the bed, gasping in pain as her shoulder struck the mattress. "Are you all right?"

"Uh, mebbe?" Sam said through gritted teeth, pushing herself upright. "Jes', jes' woozy, is all."

"It's the blood loss," the nurse scolded, checking her over. "You lost more than you should of, and it'll take time to recover." Satisfied that new stitches wouldn't be required, she glared at the Ranger. "You just sit there, and I'll fetch you a chair."

"Ah don'..." Sam started to protest.

"Stand up," the nurse said, staring her down, "And I'll sit you right back down. Do you hear me?" After a moment, she nodded and headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

Sam watched her go. "Damn," she said as the door pulled shut. "That was kinda hot. Shame mah arm ain't better." Then she finished her water and waited for the nurse to return, and cooperated as the woman helped her into the wheelchair. "Reckon Ah should pay attention ta you," she said as she was wheeled into the hall, feeling her head spin a little. "Don't think Ah'd have made it all the way on foot."

The nurse smiled a little. "Good. Now, watch your legs."

LIght streamed into the bedroom that had been set up for her fiancee. Sam watched carefully, heart in her throat as she saw the blanket-covered figure on the bed. "Erik?"
 
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