|~ Sleeping Beauty Awakes ~|~ Speak To Me Pluto ~|~ Elmer Fudd Plays Charades ~|~ Rehab Hell ~|

SLEEPING BEAUTY AWAKES (OR WAKING UP IS HARD TO DO)

Brooke returned to Sam's bedside later that day and continued her normal pattern until finals passed and summer arrived. Sam's injuries were healing nicely but she was making no progress towards waking up. Everyone was getting discouraged but Brooke was unswayed. She knew Sam was in there somewhere, trying to make up her mind whether or not to come home, and Brooke was determined to be patient. She continued her daily routine, much to the minor distress to her parents who feared for her health but she seemed to be fine and the hospital staff was looking out for her.

"Guess what Sam? Mom talked to the school board and they said your grades were good enough that when you wake up, you can make up the work you've missed over the summer and if you pass your make-up finals, you could be a senoir with the rest of us in the fall. Isn't that great?" she asked as she gently brushed a knot out of Sam's hair. She listened to the blip of the heart monitor and took it as a positive response. At least Sam had been breathing on her own for a while, that was a good sign.

Brooke had finished with her administrations to Sam's hair and was packing up the brushes when she saw it. The faintest of stirrings in Sam's left hand. For a minute she thought she'd imagined it but there it was again. Sam's finger's were curling and it didn't strike Brooke as the same unconscious muscle twitches that had falsely raised her hoped is days past. It was like Sam was reaching for something. It clicked in Brooke's mind that it was the hand she usually held. Sam was reaching out for her. Brooke hastily put the brushes down and reached for the hand.

"Sam, Sammy can you hear me?" she asked as she pressed the call button beside Sam's head. After a second or two, she felt a very light squeeze on her hand and nearly yelled with joy. Wanting to make sure she wasn't imagining things, Brooke asked Sam again.

"Sam, if you can hear me and understand me, squeeze me hand twice." She waited. One squeeze was followed a few seconds later by another one, this time a little stronger. Tears of relief began to stream down Brooke's face as a nurse entered the room.

"What is it, Brooke?" Nurse Carolyn Prant asked when she saw Brooke crying.

"She's coming around. She squeezed my hand," Brooke told her. Carolyn looked at her dubiously. She'd been watching Brooke take loving care of the comatose girl for the entire time now and was sure Brooke was imagining things. Brooke sighed. "I am not imagining it. Come see for yourself." Carolyn walked over to where Brooke was while Brooke spoke softly into Sam's ear again.

"Hey, Sam. I know you're in there, don't make a liar out of me. Squeeze my hand twice if you can hear me," she asked. Carolyn watched as the thin pale hand in Brooke's contracted once and then again. She nearly screamed herself when she realized Brooke was right.

"This is fantastic! I'll get the doctor and call your parents right away!" Carolyn ran out to get Sam's doctor and left Brooke with Sam.

"That's a girl, Sam. I knew you could do it. Thank you," she started to weep as Sam squeezed her hand again and this time didn't let go.

Whoever writes in movies and television that coma patients suddenly wake up and immediately recognize the people around them is full of shit. That's what Brooke would tell you if you asked. It was another three days before Sam was awake and another two before she was truly aware of her surroundings. Everyone was overjoyed to see her awake and responding but it wasn't long before they realized something was wrong.

"Doctor, why can't she speak?" Jane asked, afraid for her normally verbose daughter who was quickly becoming frustrated by her inability to communicate a few days later. Dr. Parker frowned.

"I don't think it's anything permanent. I had a neurologist go over her test results and he concurs. The skull fracture was near the area of the brain associated with speech. The brain isn't a regenerating organ, it can't heal damage but all our scans don't show any evidence of an actual injury or stroke. She suffered an injury to the brain, however minor that resulted in a prolonged state of unconsciousness and it's normal for there to be side effects from that."

"Dr. Ormanji, the neurologist, and I think it's a temporary condition, a side effect that will eventually go away once the brain has time to straighten itself out. A lot has happened to Sam, she's going to need a long time to heal. I can't give you any guarantees, of course, but I've already called in a speech pathologist to work with her and help her over the hump. The fact that her arm is still in a brace will undoubtedly make it harder for her as she can't write."

"Well, Brooke's bringing her her laptop tomorrow so she can type some, but you're saying this isn't permanent?" Jane asked hopefully as she and the doctor talked outside Sam's door. Any small bit of good news she could get she was going to grab on to.

"By all indications, no," Dr. Parker told her cheerfully. And he was more than happy to give any positive news he could. Sam was quickly becoming known as the Miracle Patient of Ward 4. "I would, however encourage her to speak as much as possible. I realize she's reluctant to given that she's uncomfortable with the stuttering and slight aphasia but the only way to get past this is through it."

"I understand, thank God for good news. What about her legs?"

"Tests results we're getting back now are cause for us to be cautiously optimistic at this point, Jane. The damage isn't as extensive as we originally thought and the swelling is already beginning to lessen. She's all ready regained some feeling, if not movement in her legs. That is a good sign. She is, however, looking at some heavy-duty physical therapy to get back to the level she once was at, especially considering the nature of the damage done. And that is, of course, best case scenario. A lot of it has to do with how hard Sam is willing to work."

SPEAK TO ME PLUTO, SPEAK TO ME

"Sam, I swear to God you should see her! It looks like Jennifer Lopez and Antonio Bandarez had a love child and FuBu exploded all over her!" Carmen joked, telling Sam all about B. Ho. Lily, Harrison, Brooke and Josh all laughed as Sam smiled and nodded, not really feeling up to laughing even if the imagery was rather humorous. Truthfully, she wanted to be left alone. As much as she loved her friends, she didn't want them to see her like this. (Handicapped and silent) (Crippled and mute) (Physically disabled and voiceless) (Paralysed and dumb) (Paraplegic and aphonic) Her still active and vocabulary rich mind continued to mock her in its abitity to remind her of her condition.

Everytime she opened her mouth to speak, she sounded like a bad Elmer Fudd impersonator and she hated it. And that was when the right words came out. Despite the doctor's reassurance that it was most likely temporary, Sam was despondant. Words were her thing, her element and the thing she knew best. Now thanks to a broken arm and a head injury, they were taken away from her. She felt isolated, lost and scared.

"So then, Mary Cherry comes in with her father," Carmen continued with her retelling of how Mary Cherry had returned to school a few days after being `rescued' from the orphanage by her father Sweet Honey Chile. "And his outfit, I mean, I had no idea they made that sort of thing in that size."

Everyone, save Sam, laughed again at the memory but only Brooke noticed the lack of reaction from Sam. She knew that Sam was having trouble dealing with the extent of her injuries but didn't know how to help. She reached out and grasped Sam's good hand in her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Sam looked up and rewarded Brooke with a small, half-hearted smile. But the sadness and fear in Sam's eyes nearly broke Brooke's heart. There was also a pleading look there that Brooke understood having seen it all too often lately.

"Hey, guys, I think maybe Sam's had enough for today. What do you think, Sam?" Sam's eyes lit up and she shook her head as hard as she dared, given the fact she just emerged from a coma a few days earlier. Brooke smiled at her.

"Aw, gee, Sam, we're sorry. We just missed you so much," Harrison told her softly. Sam smiled in understanding. She didn't dare try and speak. "Hang in there, you," he said as he kissed her softly on the cheek.

"Yeah, Sam, we've got a lot of catching up to do," Lily added as she hugged Sam gently. Carmen and Josh said goodbye as Brooke ushered them all out the door.

"We'll talk to you guys tomorrow," Brooke winced at her choice of words as she said goodbye. Seeing that Jane had gone home for dinner, Brooke closed the door and resumed her place sitting on Sam's bed. Sam mouthed a `thank you' at her and leaned back on the bed.

"Not a problem, Sam. Anything for you," Sam quirked an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth twitched upward slightly. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Sam," Brooke scolded Sam even as she felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. Her mind dove into the gutter too even if she had meant the comment innocently enough. (Oh, Sam, if you only knew)

Sam, for her part, was thinking along the same lines. If only Brooke knew how Sam was really feeling towards her. (But then) Sam reasoned, (why would someone as beautiful, smart, funny, and caring as Brooke be interested in someone who's handicapped when they could have anyone they wanted? Not to mention the whole `straight' thing. Yeah, there's a sticking point for you. Face facts, Sammy, with or without your legs or voice, Brooke is never going to be anything more than a good friend, if you're lucky. So just forget about anything else)

Brooke watched the shadow pass over Sam's face and it disturbed her. Since she had witnessed her wake up, Brooke had also had a front row seat for Sam's withdrawl into herself and nothing Brooke said or did seemed to slow it down. If anything, it seemed to Brooke that Sam's inabilitiy to speak was doing what Nicole and two and a half tons of metal and steel couldn't: kill Sam. For every word Sam was unable to utter and was forced to contain within herself, it seemed like a piece of her soul was ripped away. Brooke always knew that words were important to Sam, she was only now discovering exactly how much.

"They mean well, Sam. And they're really happy that you're awake," Brooke said to break the silence that was starting to stretch between them. Sam rolled her eyes and sighed before settling further into her bed. Brooke grabbed her hand again causing her to open her eyes to look at her. Brooke, realizing she'd unconsciously taken hold of Sam's hand again, started to let go, embarrassed before Sam tightened her own hold to stop her.

"Sorry," Brooke apologized with a small smile, "habit." Sam shrugged one shoulder but returned the smile, albeit marginally. Brooke sighed lightly. "Talk to me, Sammy, I need to hear your voice." Sam frowned and turned her head away.

"Don't Sam, don't shut me out, please," Brooke begged. Sam didn't turn back but stayed facing the wall. "Sam, speak to me. I went so long without hearing your voice. Please say something."

"Woof," Sam spit out bitterly, still facing the wall. Brooke closed her eyes and sighed in defeat. Sam's stubborn streak had always been a thorn in Brooke's side, nevermore so than now. All she wanted was to help Sam but she wouldn't let her. But she wasn't going to give up. Quitting was not a trait Brooke McQueen wanted to be known for.

"Fine, Sam, I'll let it go for now. But I'm not giving up on you and I'm not going anywhere so forget about that. I didn't sit here everyday with you, begging you to wake up so that you could shut me out. It doesn't work that way so get used to having me here, whether you want me here or not," Brooke explained, her voice never wavering from the gentle tone she started with. Getting angry wouldn't solve anything; it would only make things worse. Besides, she knew that eventually Sam had to come around again. Her `visit' with God told Brooke that there was something else for them both in the future, even if she was fuzzy on the details.

Brooke hadn't told Harrison or Sam about her vision of God or the visit with Sam and Joe yet, she wasn't sure if it was real or a dream caused by grief and lack of sleep. Actually, if she was honest with herself, she knew it was real and she had a lot of thinking to do about the whole thing. But right now, her only concern was Sam and getting her to open up and accept the help that was being offered. (But, given Sam's less than sunny disposition since waking up and discovering her condition that may be easier said than done)

Still, the fact that the other girl still hadn't let go of her hand told Brooke that Sam wanted the help but didn't know how to ask. Sam was a solitary creature by nature and it was hard for her to admit weakness. Brooke knew Sam was scared, who wouldn't be after all. Sam had lost three weeks time thanks to Nicole and her little drunken game of bumper tag.

"If you don't want to talk, fine, I will. I got another call from the State's Attorney today. Nicole's case goes to court soon," this got Sam's attention and she rolled over to look at Brooke. "She's being charged with possession of alcohol by a minor, driving while intoxicated, attempted vehicler manslaughter, and reckless driving. I've already given my statement as to what happened that night but I might have to testify. The prosecutor says he might cut a deal but I swear to you Sammy that Nicole will not get away with what she did." Sam blinked at her and then shrugged. Brooke frowned.

"Sam, don't you care that she get what she deserves? Jesus, she nearly killed you, and she could have killed me. You don't want her to just walk away scott-free do you?" Again Sam just shrugged like she could care less. And she couldn't. Whether or not Nicole went to juvie or paid a fine or whatnot had absolutely no baring on her life right now whatsoever. All Sam cared about was whether or not she was going to walk and talk again. (It's the little things) Sam sighed to herself.

Brooke on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to personally throw the switch on Nicole's electric chair. As a matter of fact, she'd entertained many a fantasy about the many painful ways there was to kill Nicole during her time at Sam's silent bedside. She'd shared these ideas with Sam's quiet presence as well. It was one of her new hobbies. Revenge and pain for Nicole. Brooke knew that it wasn't the healthiest of hobbies to have but it kept her happy and occupied when Sam was in her coma. And her visit with Nicole a week or so earlier had only served to deepen her anger when she was actually looking for some sort of closure. But the moment she saw Nicole, Brooke also saw Sam, the moment the car hit her and the anger overwhelmed her.

"I can't believe you, of all people, aren't for going after her with both barrels, Sam. She should get the harshest punishment possible. I'm talking drawn and quartered, the guillotine, made to wear Kathie Lee fashions, and last years at that," Brooke said frustrated. Sam looked at her incredulously. Even without being able to say a word, Brooke knew what she was saying.

"I know, I know. `But she's Nicole Julian. She'll get away with it because of who she is and her family's money.' But that's not right, Sam. It's not fair," Brooke complained. Sam nodded in agreement even as she sat in amazement at how well Brooke had been able to read her thoughts. Brooke ran a hand through her hair.

"I think I finally understand how you must have felt all this time, how everything just seemed so against you, the one everyone sees as `unpopular' and me, the one everyone sees as `popular'. Because Nic is one of the `rich, pretty, popular' pod people she's going to get away with a horrible and heinous crime, isn't she?" Sam nodded sadly. Brooke sighed. She hated this because she knew it was probably the truth. Regardless of the outcome, she was going to do whatever she could to see that Nicole was punished and that Sam recovered. It was the least she could do to try and alieviate the overwhelming guilt that she felt towards the entire situation and her part in it.

"Well, I don't know about you but I've had enough with talking about that psycho hose beast. What do you want to do now?" Sam rolled her eyes. "I realize that our activites are severely limited but there's got to be something." Sam closed her eyes and sighed.

"No, Sam, you can't go back to sleep. The doctors are worried that you're sleeping too much, it's a sign of depression," Brooke explained patiently. Sam opened her eyes and glared at the form sitting on her bed.

"Glare all you want to, Sam, you don't scare me. What are you going to do, beat me over the head with your cast? I think not. Live with the fact that I'm not going anywhere. Move over, I think Passions is on. Let's see what Tabitha and Timmy are up to."

ELMER FUDD PLAYS CHARADES

"G�g�. Go�'way�" Sam stuttered a week later as she pulled the covers up over her head with her good arm. The last thing she wanted right now was to face anyone, but especially Brooke whom she knew to be on the other side of the door. She was grateful that she was stuttering less thanks to practice and her speech therapist but still hated talking to anyone.

Sam always prided herself on her independence and her ability to function through almost anything with as little help as possible. Even when her father had died, Sam did everything she could to show everyone how strong she was, even when she wasn't. Being reduced to a wheelchair was bad enough but on its own she could probably handle it. But for someone as verbose and loquacious as Sam, being barely able to speak coherently or write was like a slow torturous death. Even typing on the laptop Brooke had brought her wasn't enough. She didn't want to see anyone and didn't want anyone to see her in this state. When she was in a coma it was different; at least she was unconscious. But now that she was awake and cognizant, she hated that they would see her as weak. And she really didn't want Brooke to see her that way.

"Come on, Sam, let me in," Brooke called from behind the door. Sam sighed. (Damn persistant little twit) Sam swore to herself. Not that she really thought of Brooke as a twit, at least not anymore. She just wasn't up to facing the persistantly effervescent cheerleader right now.

Usually seeing Brooke was the highlight of Sam's day, which, given the fact that they shared a house meant that Sam's days were filled with highlights. But since the accident, Sam was filled with the irrational fear that having Brooke see her in her current state would somehow make the blonde view her through a veil of pity. And that alone was enough to make Sam wish the car was going a little faster when it hit her. She wanted no one's pity, especially Brooke's.

Her mother and Mike, as well as the hospital staff had told both Sam about Brooke's vigilance by her bedside during her coma but she didn't know what to make of it. (Probably just feels guilty) she reasoned. (Doing what she felt she had too. She has absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, though. God I hope she knows that) Somehow Sam had known Brooke was there, felt her beside her the entire time even if she couldn't let anyone know. Technically she wasn't aware of anything going on around her, but somehow, and even Sam didn't know how herself, somehow she knew Brooke was right there the entire time trying to bring her out of the coma. And it was oddly comforting. No, wait, not oddly, it was very comforting. There was no one else Sam would rather have by her side when she was sick or hurt than Brooke McQueen. Present case excluded, of course.

"N...no," Sam protested from beneath her covers, knowing however that it was in vain. Brooke opened the door and walked in.

"Tough. You've refused to see anyone else except Mom and Dad and even they say that you don't exactly `visit' with them. So come on Sam, talk to me. What's wrong?" Sam moved the blankets so that she could glare at Brooke for her choice of words. Brooke shrugged. "Don't glare at me like the I'm the Anti-Christ, Sam. The doctors said the more you spoke the easier it would get so, talk. And no using the laptop anymore," she said, undisturbed by the continued stare. The silence stretched between them for several tense minutes.

"Sam," Brooke softly started a few minutes later. She hated watching what Sam was doing to herself and to those who cared for her. But on some level, Brooke understood it. Sam was seeking to control something when everything else had been taken out of her control. If that meant shutting everyone else out and becoming a mental recluse, so be it. But Brooke wasn't going to let her get away with it.

"This has gone on long enough. The doctors are willing to let you come home in a few days because physically you're doing really well. But they might not let you because of this behavior. You're shutting everyone out and withdrawing from everything and we're all really worried about you." She looked at Sam hoping for some sort of reaction but saw only the now familiar blank stare. Swallowing a sigh of despair, she continued.

"It's not healthy, Sam. Shutting everyone out is only going to cause you more pain. You can't do this alone," she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from Sam's face only to have the other girl flinch and pull away. Brooke pulled her hand away and placed it, now in a fist, by her side. She wasn't mad she was hurt. (How can Sam think I'd hurt her? I love her. Huh? Did I just think that? Uh-oh�)

Sam meanwhile, was trying to figure out why she pulled away. (I can't let her get close, I just can't. She pities me, I just know it. I don't want her pity, I want more than that and I can't have any more than that and it's going to kill me) She pulled away further trying not to cry in loneliness and despair.

"Uhm�Sam, please," Brooke implored the rapidly receding girl. Watching Sam shrink into herself was strange given the fact that Sam was usually so outgoing and in-your-face. Before the accident, Brooke had the chance on occasion to see beyond the walls and barriers Sam had constructed around herself to keep from being hurt but now they were back, stronger than ever and it disturbed Brooke. Sam was obviously in a lot of pain, not just the physical sort and all Brooke wanted to do was help but she didn't know how. And Sam sure wasn't making it any easier.

"P�Pl�please what?" Sam asked somewhat angrily, startling Brooke first by speaking and then by sounding so mad. Brooke frowned.

"Please don't shut me out. Let me help you," Sam let out a short bark that Brooke assumed she was supposed to think was a laugh. It was more frightening than anything else was.

"He�help me? Don't ma�make me l�laugh," Sam shot out bitterly. (When all else fails, get angry. I'm very good at angry) Sam told herself, instantly hating herself for the hurt look on Brooke's face.

Brooke fought back the tears that immediately sprang forth at the tone of Sam's voice. Silence stretched between them again before Brooke could find her voice again and ask the question that she dreaded the answer to. She had been putting it off until Sam was able to speak better but knew she couldn't wait any longer, she had to know the answer now.

"Do you�do you blame me for what happened?" she asked very quietly. "Is that why you're so mad at me?" She hung her head low letting her blonde hair cover her face so Sam wouldn't see the tears that now fell freely down her face. She had wondered about it since that night. (Will Sam blame me for this? If I hadn't run out of there like a wounded animal it never would have happened. If I had been honest in the first place and told her that I wasn't competing with her for Harrison, I was fighting Harrison for her, this might never have happened. Now she hates me)

As Brooke fought her inner battle, Sam sat shocked at the question. (What the Hell? How could she? Why would she? I would never�I love her�uh-oh�)

"Jesus!" Sam exclaimed making Brooke snap her head up in surprise. Sam saw the tear tracks on the blonde's beautiful face and if she'd been physically capable, would have gotten up out of her bed and kicked her own butt for making Brooke cry.

"Sam?" Brooke asked quietly, confused by the outburst. Sam shook her head regretfully. She had to make Brooke understand that the blame lay elsewhere.

"D�don't�blame�you�" Sam bit off each word as she struggled not to stutter. Brooke just sighed and shook her head resigned.

"I understand if you do, Sam," Brooke told her sadly. "If I hadn't run off like that, you wouldn't have followed and�" Sam put her good hand under Brooke's chin and tilted the cheerleader's face up to meet hers.

"Don't," Sam said simply, hoping Brooke understood. She really hated not being able to talk correctly. "My�ch�ch�choice," she finally ground out frustrated beyond belief and nearly to tears. Brooke looked in Sam's brown eyes and saw no blame or condemnation in them, only love and pain. Even so, Brooke couldn't help but blame herself.

"But it's my fault, Sammy," she said as she got up off the bed and started to pace. Unseen by Brooke, Sam arched an eyebrow at the use of the name `Sammy'. If she'd been capable of coherent sentences or at least ones that didn't take three years to say she would have had a witty comment but she kept it to herself and filed it away for future reference.

"I played that stupid game with you and Harrison and when I didn't get what I wanted I ran off like a two year old throwing a tantrum. You could have been killed, Sam! Do you know what it's like to live with that?"

"Yeah," Sam interjected but Brooke ignored her and continued.

"And now because I acted like a child you nearly died and now you can't speak, and you're stuck in a wheelchair for who knows how long and it's all my fault!" Sam watched Brooke pace and rave for a few minutes until she had enough and picked up a pillow and heaved it with as much strength as she could muster at the head cheerleader. Brooke stopped in her tracks and looked at Sam.

"What?" she asked confused. Sam smiled and waved her back over to the bed. After Brooke sat back down on the edge of the bed, Sam held up one finger.

"One," Sam started trying real hard to speak clearly. Truthfully, she'd been practicing, talking to herself in her room (when no one was around, of course. Wouldn't want anyone to think there was permanent brain damage) but she didn't want to test it out until she was more sure of herself. But Brooke forced her hand.

"One, I d�don't bl�blame you," she started as Brooke listened intently. It was the most alive Sam had been since the accident. Sam held up two fingers.

"T�Two, n�not y�y�your fau�fault, Ni�Nicole's" she sighed at herself and her stuttering. Brooke reached out again to push that stubborn lock of hair out of Sam's face and was about to stop with the memory of the last time fresh in her mind, when she caught the glimmer in Sam's eyes that told her that it was all right. She pushed back the hair and was aware that her hand probably lingered too long on Sam's cheek but Sam didn't seem to mind. Sam now held up three fingers.

"Three?" Brooke asked, starting to laugh. "Maybe we should try Charades?" Sam swatted her playfully on the shoulder.

"D�don't help," she warned. She held up the three fingers again. "Three," she said clearly and took a deep breath, determined not to stutter her way through this one sentence. Brooke needed to hear her say it, even if it was a given. So Sam focused all her concentration on the next three little words.

"I forgive you," she said slowly but clearly. Brooke burst into tears at the short sentence.

"Thank you Sammy, thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that." Sam just held on to the crying girl and eventually joined in with her own tears. After a while, Brooke disconnected herself from Sam's grasp and sat back on the bed and studied the injured girl in front of her. There was still so much she had to say, so she might as well say it while Sam was unable to interrupt. (Cheap I know, so sue me.)

"Sam, we still need to talk," she started and watched as Sam rolled her eyes with a groan and leaned back into her remaining pillow. Brooke retrieved the other pillow and placed it under Sam's head before continuing.

"Seriously, even if you have nothing to say, I do. I'm glad, really glad, that you don't blame me for the accident. And I believe that you don't. It's a huge weight off my chest knowing that. But I meant what I said when I first got here. You can't keep doing this. You can't shut everyone out and go through this by yourself. Not even you, the great, strong, invincible Samantha McPherson, can handle this without help."

"But you won't let anyone help you, you keep pushing everyone away. You won't let anyone visit, just Mom, Dad, and me. The gang is really hurt that you've shut them out. They know that you're going to be in a wheelchair for a while, Sam and they don't think any less of you. They don't think you're weak because you won't be walking out of here on your own just yet," Sam shot her a dirty look letting Brooke know she hit a nerve. "I know that's one of the things you're afraid of, being seen as weak, but that isn't how we see you. God, Sam, do you have any idea how wrong you are?"

"You pushed me out of the way of a speeding car and were nearly killed for your trouble. That makes you strong and brave, not weak! So you're stuck in a chair, maybe permanetly, maybe not. Who cares? That doesn't make you any less a person, any less Sam McPherson than you were the morning before the accident. You're still the same smart, witty, beautiful young woman who I'm proud to share a family with." Unable to continue listening to Brooke extolling the virtues of her character, Sam interrupted.

"Y�you think�I'm�be�beau�" Sam tried before giving up with a frustrated growl. Brooke blushed when she realized that she'd let that bit of information slip. (No backing out of it now, I suppose)

"Beautiful, and yes, I do. Don't you?" Brooke asked like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam thought about it for a second before shrugging.

"N�not real..ly," she never gave it a lot of thought, actually. Sure she knew she was attractive, cute, she guessed. But Brooke was the beautiful one. Tall, blonde, fair skinned, hazel eyes, like a model straight out of Vogue magazine. Sam on the other hand was the exact opposite. Not short but not that tall either, dark hair and eyes, light skin, nothing spectacular. Maybe good enough to model for the Sears catalogue, in her opinion. The fact that Brooke thought that she was beautiful made her feel unbelievably good.

Sam had realized in the past few months that her feelings for Brooke were changing somewhat. Into what she didn't know but she knew they were definitely heading away from the aggressive I-hate-you sort they started as and then became the OK-you're-my-step-sister-I-can-deal-with-you sort into the I-get-all-mushy-inside-when-you're-around type. She'd never really entertained the idea that she wasn't heterosexual but the more time she found herself spending thinking and fantasizing about the blonde, the more she realized that maybe she wasn't. And then she discovered that she really didn't care. She was never one for conformity anyway.

It was really out of fear that she hadn't said anything yet. She had no idea how her soon-to-be-blended family would react to the `Hi everyone I'm gay!' announcement at the dinner table. That might not be so bad, actually. Her mother was usually pretty understanding about most things even if this would be a shock. Brooke would probably choke on her diet Pepsi but recover and given the fact that she wasn't the evil person Sam once thought she was she probably wouldn't blab it all over school. And Mike was a pretty nice guy, so it'd most likely be all right. But following it up with `Oh and by the way, I seriously have the hots for my stepsister so bad I can't think about anything else. Could you please pass the salt?' would undoubtedly make things very uncomfortable in the McPherson-McQueen household. Brooke and her mother would probably faint over dead and Mike would probably murder her.

But still, the accident had kind of changed her stance on staying quiet much longer. If her life or Brooke's could end in one split second like it almost had, how could she stay locked in her self-imposed box simply because she was afraid? Fear was not a concept Sam was familiar with or let control her life. And now that she knew Brooke thought she was beautiful, at least in an asthetically-pleasing sort of way, maybe it would work out all right even if Brooke were straight, which she really had no reason to doubt. Brooke might even find her crush flattering, if she wasn't totally freaked out.

"Not really? Not really?" Brooke repeated, acting horribly aghast. "Sam, you have perfect hair, perfect skin, beautiful deep eyes and those lips�" Brooke's voice trailed off as she realized that she'd probaby said waaayyyy too much. The way Sam was looking at her was kind of reaffirming her belief that she had. Sam resembled a deer caught in the headlights. (Bad pun, Brooke, been there, done that. Bad imagery. Bad memories) OK, Sam looked like she just stuck her finger in a light socket, minus the spikey hair. (Yeah, that's better)

Sam for her part couldn't believe what she'd just heard. (Perfect hair? Perfect skin? Beautiful eyes? And what about my lips? I am getting soooo confused here. Brooke is straight, right? That didn't change while I was in a coma, did it? She didn't hit her head on the asphalt when I tackled her, did she?) Shock was settling in on Sam's system again.

"Wh�what ab..bout my l�lips?" Sam teased, enjoying the interesting shade of crimson that Brooke suddenly turned.

(Sinful springs to mind) Brooke thought immediately but didn't dare say it outloud for fear of sending Sam straight back into her coma out of sheer shock. Although Sam seemed to be enjoying the turn the conversation was taking.

"They're nice and full and I know lots of girls who would pay lots of money to have lips like yours," Brooke told her casually, taking the safe way out. "Actually, I know some who already have. And I know there must be a lot of guys out there who would love to kiss them." (Not to mention me) she added silently. The former statement about the guys made Sam start to laugh until the action reminded her of her condition painfully. Brooke was beside her in an instant worried.

"Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?" Sam shook her head while holding her ribcage gingerly and waited for the pain to pass. She gave Brooke what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Laughing�bad�" she explained. Brooke was instantly contrite.

"I am so sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to," Sam held up her good hand.

"D�don't�m'OK," she told the guilty blonde. Brooke let out a sigh heavy with relief and nodded.

"As long as you're sure."

"Yup," Sam breathed, as the pain became managable. To tell the truth, she couldn't tell you exactly what was so funny about Brooke's comment other than the fact that she hadn't had too much luck in the `men' department to know whether or not they liked her lips. She was actually more interested in whether or not the blonde in front of her did.

"Better?" Brooke asked anxiously when she noticed Sam's breathing had returned to mormal. Sam nodded. "Good, you scared me for a second there. I thought I broke you. Anyway, when do you start physical therapy?" Sam frowned, both at the change of subject and at the subject in question.

"T�tomor�row," she sighed, not at all looking forward to it. While she wanted to walk again, she wasn't looking forward to the pain she knew was going to be involved in the process. Brooke shifted uncomfortably on the bed for a minute before speaking.

"Do you want, I mean, if you wouldn't mind�that is if it's OK with you�" Brooke stammered making Sam have to stifle a giggle.

"I'm sup..posed to st..stutter, not you," Sam joked. Brooked sighed, but smiled.

"Shush, I was trying to ask if you wanted me to go with you to therapy. I mean, I want to go and be there with you. I promised you that you wouldn't have to go through this alone and I meant it. Mom and Dad either have to work or take care of Mac and I thought that maybe you wouldn't want to be alone," Brooke looked up into the wide brown eyes of her friend and housemate. Sam looked, well, Sam looked utterly shocked, to tell the truth. And really, really relieved.

"Yes," Sam said without a hint of a stutter. "Please."

"You want me to go with you? Really?" Sam nodded. "Great! I was hoping you'd let me go with you, Sam. This means a lot to me," Brooke told Sam as she hugged her as tightly as she dared, not wanting to inadvertantly hurt the brunette. Brooke was heartened when she felt Sam hug back just as tightly.

"Sounds�li�like fun," Sam said sarcastically. Brooke giggled.

"Don't worry, Sam. I'll be there for you every step of the way," Sam shot her a semi-dirty look.

"Ver..ry witty, Prin..cess," she growled but the smile on her face let Brooke know she wasn't truly mad.

"Sorry, poor choice of words. My bad. I once promised you that you wouldn't have to go through this alone, Sam, and I meant it." Sam tilted her head to the side as a half-remembered memory made its presence known.

"I think I rem�em�ber that," she said mildly confused. She just couldn't remember from where. Brooke shrugged.

"Well, I did, so, get used to my sparkling brand of unique company, Sam," Sam sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Lord."

REHAB HELL or BLOW IN MY EAR AND I'LL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE

Three weeks later�

Brooke watched as Sam pushed herself through her daily paces at the rehab center she'd moved to two weeks earlier. Situps, pushups, and painful leg exercises designed to rebuild strength and endurance in her legs and taylored around the various casts still adorning the girl. She did all of this without a complaint or anything. They both thought Eric, her physical therapist was cute but Brooke's eyes were focused solely on the sweating girl on the workout mat. And other things they could be doing to wind up that sweaty and out of breath. (Bad thoughts, Brooke. Illegal in 48 states. So? Move to one of the other two. Shut up you stubborn inner voice!)

Sam had make excellent progress the past few weeks according to everyone and Brooke wasn't at all surprised given the girls' usual tenacity once she set her mind to something. There is precious little that can stop Sam once she grabs on to what she wants, Brooke knows this first hand having observed Sam for as long as she had at school. Usually it has to do with something she's investigating but Brooke was relieved to see Sam applying that same focus to recovering.

"Hey, Brooke," Eric called over as her helped Sam to switch positions on the mat. Brooke walked over to the two and smiled.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I just got a page for another patient and I need to run out for a sec. I'll be right back, honest, but I don't want Sam to lose her focus. You've been here for every session so far, think you can run her through her set of reps until I get back?" Brooke looked at Sam who shrugged.

"I guess," she agreed. Eric smiled.

"Terrific, I'll be back as soon as I can. And don't let Drama Queen here freak you out, OK? She know's what she's doing," he advised as he headed towards the door. Sam stuck out her tongue.

"Drama Queen my ass," she muttered. Brooke looked up a little anxious.

"Uhm, ready?" Sam nodded.

"Yeah, relax, Brooke, like he said, you've seen me do it like, a hundred times, no prob," Sam reassured the nervous blonde, any hint of her stutter gone thanks to time, diligence, and her speech pathologist.

"Yeah, no prob," Brooke repeated as she helped Sam exercise her legs. She listened to the small pants; grunts and little pain filled gasps that escaped from Sam's lips as she worked.

"You OK?" Brooke asked concerned after a particularly loud gasp. Sam closed her eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, just my stitches pulling. And my stitches pulling stitches pulling scars. I got muscles I didn't know I had hurting and all this work and I still can't walk. It doesn't seem fair," Sam lamented.

"Aw Sam, the doctors say you'll walk again. You gotta believe them. You've got feeling in your legs, you can move them, it's all a matter of time until they're strong enough again. You just have to be patient." Sam lay back on the mat.

"Patience is suddenly not one of my virtues," Sam declared. Brooke smiled while grabbing Sam's foot again.

"Hate to break it to you, Sammy, but it never was. Now, back to work, OK? Press against my hand and lift." Sam growled.

"Slave driver," she joked as she nonetheless complied. Brooke smiled as she continued to help Sam with her exercises. Eric came back a few minutes later and watched them.

"Nice job Brooke, you look like an old pro," he commented. Sam laughed.

"Yeah, she's got the whole bossing-people-around-thing down pat," she joked. Brooke smacked her in her good knee.

"Quiet you," Brooke warned. Eric just smiled.

"It's a good thing actually. I've been telling Sam that she'll be free from rehab hell soon to go home on the weekends but she'll need someone to help her out. I get the feeling you're the person for the job, Brooke."

"Me?" Brooke asked, surprised. Eric nodded.

"Why not? You know the exercises as well as Sam and I do, your parents are setting up a workout area for Sam at home and you seem more than capable of helping her. Don't you want the job? Your parents thought you'd be perfect for it given how close the two of you have gotten."

"Of course I want to help, if Sam wants me too, that is. Do you Sam?" Sam nodded her head vigourously.

"I couldn't think of anyone else I'd want there with me, Brooke," she said honestly. Brooke beamed, happy beyond belief at the simple statement.

"Than it's settled. We'll spend the rest of today and the next few sessions going over the do's and don't of Sam's exercises, the most glaring don't being: Don't let her try and convince you to let her walk. She'll end up doing more harm than good, won't you, Sam?" Sam hung her head and grumbled a `yeah, whatever'. Brooke looked at Eric confused.

"When you went to get a bite to eat last week, she insisted I let her try and take a few steps. I knew, from previous experience, that Miss Stubborn-Pants over here wouldn't take `no' for an answer. I tried to warn her that she wasn't ready and that she needed more time for her spine and back to heal but she wouldn't listen." Comprehension dawned on Brooke's face.

"That's why you looked like you'd been crying when I got back," Brooke exclaimed, understanding the tearstreaked face that had greeted her after she'd returned from having a salad. Sam had told her it was a frustration attack but Brooke had figured it was something else.

"Did you learn your lesson?" Brooke asked in a kindergarden teacher voice. Sam nodded.

"Yeah," she answered sheepishly. "Small steps, pardon the pun."

"So, think you can handle this one?" Eric asked. Brooke narrowed her eyes.

"Oh yeah, I think I can more than handle `this one'." Suddenly Sam was very very nervous.