(no subject)

[starting_over]

Samantha stood on the boardwalk outside of her shop and stared out at the waves crashing onto the beach. The sound soothed her like no other, as did standing as she was with the wind whipping at her hair and face. It was another reminder that she was here, she was standing; she wasn't in the hospital, she hadn't been shot.

It was just one of those freaky Siren Cove things she'd been told about. Nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't, or hadn't been, another enforcer out to remove her from the equation.

Even huddled in her long down parka, Samantha gave a shudder. Parkas were nice, but they didn't protect from this kind of cold. This cold was deep down inside her in a place she'd thought long healed.

When her teeth started to chatter, she gave up her solitary stance and turned back to the shop, locking the door behind her. Tomorrow, she told herself. She'd open tomorrow.

She just needed another day to recover, to get her wits back about her, and get on with living this new life she wanted so badly.

Comments

[lincolnmiller]

"Hey, this is Lincoln. Listen, I heard you weren't well and I have soup?" Lincoln said, call going straight to voicemail as he lingered outside Sam's shop. Scuffing his boots against the board walk, he leaned against the door waiting to see if she picked up or came down the stairs. "I did mention I'm a fire mage, walking-talking- portable heater?"

[starting_over]

Samantha smiled over the message before setting her phone down to open the window. She stepped onto the juliet balcony that looked out over the balcony and leaned over.

"Did someone say soup?"

She knew she looked like seven levels of hell with the circles under her eyes and seriously pale skin, but the smile was genuine.

[lincolnmiller]

"My mom made it, she's a pretty good cook." Lincoln called, looking up at a rather deathly pale Sam. Smiling up at her, he covered his eyes so that he could look at her. She looked beautiful, as always, but really, really ill. It was a good thing he rarely got sick, his temperature always ran too high for most viruses to survive. "I thought I'd come keep you company, if that's alright?"

[starting_over]

"Of course it is. Give me a second and I'll release the lock. Just come through the shop and up the back steps just like breakfast."

Samantha ducked back into the apartment and entered the security code to unlock the door from the app on her phone. When the camera showed Lincoln inside, she locked and secured behind him. Small town or not, she'd been born and raised in Boston; she didn't believe in taking chances. She had just enough time to stow the small trash can in the bathroom, thankful she hadn't needed it after the initial round of sick.

[lincolnmiller]

Taking the stairs, two at a time, Lincoln knocked before leaning through the door and smiling at Sam. Holding the soup he placed it down on her kitchen before leaning down to brush a kiss against her cheek,

"You got the er... Museum bug going round?" Lincoln asked, reaching up to press his hand against her forehead.

[starting_over]

"You mean the curse of the mummy? Yeah. Creepy thing came right at me, put hands on me, and I was down in the fetal position. The next, oh, ten hours or so...," Samantha trailed off and waved a hand, "probably better not to talk about that part too much. Let's just say it wasn't much of a party after that."

She smiled at the kiss to her cheek and had a stern mental conversation with her pulse to settle itself down. "I'm still not quite..up to much."

Already feeling worn down, she dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and pulled the blanket around her. "You escaped the fun?"

[lincolnmiller]

"That would be the one, and no I didn't. Not exactly," Lincoln replied, tucking the edges of the blankets around Sam and fetching her a glass of water. Wandering around the kitchen he grabbed a bowl and heated his mom's container through before pouring it out into the bowl for her. "We thought it was an animatronic, it got Lee and she got sick fast. Scared the hell out of me. My mom is pretty good with illnesses and healings though, so I called her."

Grabbing another chair he pulled it up alongside Sam before picking up her feet and pulling them up onto his lap. His hands were warm against her skin and he slowly began to rub warmth from ankle to toes.

[starting_over]

"Mmm, that feels very, very good," Sam said in response to the foot rub, then leaned forward to inhale the soup from the bowl in her hands. "Almost as good as this smells. I'd say your mother's good at more than healings."

For a minute, she just let herself inhale the aroma, then took a small spoonful. Oh yeah, definitely tasted as good as it smelled. "I'm glad you were both able to get some healing though. It was the worst thing I've ever been through in my life."

Half of that was the illness, the other half was the bone-deep fear she'd felt in those first moments of flashback from the shooting.

[lincolnmiller]

"I am a man of many hidden talents," Lincoln replied, stroking over Sam's foot up to her ankle before sliding back down to rub heat into her toes. Working slowly, methodically he smiled up at her. "Oh, it didn't touch me. Probably wouldn't work if it was just sickness though, I don't tend to get ill. Too hot."

Lincoln laughed at how that sounded. "Body temperature wise, kills off most bugs."

[starting_over]

"And just when I was about to comment on the ego you've got running there," Samantha smiled back. "But I'm glad you didn't get sick. It was a pretty nasty thing to go through, which you probably already know if Lee had it." She looked from him to his hands, still rubbing her feet. "If this is any indication of your bedside manner, I'd say she's lucky she had you through the worst of it."

[lincolnmiller]

"I think I was called enough names at school to not have that much of an ego," Lincoln replied. It had washed over him though, most people didn't try to take him on even back then. He'd been geeky, soft everywhere, but still tall as anything. Park, some of the other guys weren't that lucky though and Lincoln always tried to step in. Even though he was pretty sure Roosevelt was stepping in at times for him. "Maybe, I'm lucky to have her. How about you? Meet anyone... interesting lately?"

[starting_over]

"You're lucky to have each other then," Samantha smiled back with a nod. Her mouth quirked a little while she sipped at the soup, feeling heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the warm liquid in the bowl. "Though I have a feeling you might already know, I've been out with your friend Roosevelt. He took me on a hike up into the mountains not that long ago."

[lincolnmiller]

"Who me? Nooo, of course not. It's not like me and Teddy gossip like a bunch of teenage girls at all," Lincoln replied, looking up at Sam with a smile. Roosevelt might've told him some things but apparently his best friend had kept other stuff from him. "Roosevelt is a good guy, the best. So... good luck. I'll try not to cheer you both on in an obnoxious manner, or suggest double dates. That might be weird."

[starting_over]

Teddy. Samantha rolled the nickname around in her head for a second and let a little smile curve her lips. Of all the things she thought of when he came to mind, a cuddly, fluffy bear was not even close to being on the list. Still, though, she made a note to bring it up to him sometime and see how he reacted. It could either be endearing, or something he found as irritating as she did when Neal called her Sweet Sammy.

"He is a great guy," she agreed, "and don't worry, I won't ask you to break some guy code by asking you about him." Then she caught his last comment and frowned a little. "Weird? Why?"

[lincolnmiller]

"I don't know, I've kissed you? I really liked those kisses? If you don't think it'll be weird then I'll do it," Lincoln replied with a smile at her. He lifted his shoulders in a bemused shrug. Maybe in another time, another place they would've done a hell of a lot more than kiss but he was with Lee and quite happily so now.

[starting_over]

"I really liked them too," Samantha replied while sipping at her soup. "And as long as you don't think it's weird that I've started kissing your best friend, we can call it even?"

She felt better, warmer, and not just from the soup. Lincoln had that way about him. A calming presence.