"So how does it look?"

Carly gazes at Sam's swollen and bruised fingertips in the pale moonlight that pours through the window over her bed, where they wiggle up at her from the opening in the brand new cast the doctor put on her arm that's so purple it reminds Carly of grape slushy and not the plum colored bruises smudged across Sam's face and neck.

"Is it sexy?" Sam questions so softly around a grin and Carly chuckles, settling more into her position Indian style beside Sam's stretched out form on her bed before putting on a show of making a square with her hands and bringing it to her eyes in simulation of a camera.

Sam's voice is dark and rough and Carly acknowledges the fact that it's most likely from the tube the doctors had to force down her throat when she couldn't breathe on her own after the accident.

"It's beautiful darling." Cary declares in a fake, thick, Russian accent before clicking a few pictures of Sam posing , sucking her cheeks in and squinting her eyes. "Just marvelous."

They both dissolve into a fit of muted laughter, mindful of Spencer sleeping downstairs, that stops abruptly when Sam coughs, just twice but its loud and harsh in the closed off space of Carly's bedroom and her hand flies to the spot on her chest where Carly presumes her incision is.

"Don't make me laugh." Sam wheezes twisting from her back to her side, her hand staying pressed to her chest. "My guts might fall out."

"Aw, how embarrassing. Can't even keep your innards under control." Carly jokes even though inside everything is tight and on high alert, ready to call Spencer in if necessary.

"Ha. Ha." Sam laughs sarcastically, her eyes darting over Carly's head at the TV muted flat screen TV mounted to the wall. Dancing blue light washing eerie shadows across the room.

Carly glances around the room, knowing its no use being offended by Sam's weakness for television sets that are, ya know, on.

Her eyes land on the peanut butter and Jelly sandwich sitting on the bedside table. The one that Carly had made for Sam right before they climbed into bed.

Carly grips Sam's big toe through the layers of yellow and white bed linen and tugs to get her attention. "Hey, still can't eat?"

Sam frowns, glancing quickly at the sandwich with a single bite taken from it. "Since when are you a detective?"

"Since I bought that Deerstalker hat." Carly shoots back, tugging at Sam's toe again.

"Ah, a fashion disaster of epic proportions." Sam says, a grim expression sliding over her features as she glances at said hat hanging from the hook on the back of the bedroom door. "What were you thinking."

Carly ignores her comment with a roll of her eyes "And since Dr. Hedrick said that you need to eat to build your strength." Carly finishes pointedly.

"Hey, have you noticed how much Dr. Hedrick looks like Colonel Sanders. It's like, unreal, with the white mustache and the bushy eyebrows and that weird bolo tie he wears under his white coat." Carly lets Sam ramble on about her doctor, knowing an awkward subject change when she hears one. " Do you think he knows that he looks like The Colonel and is playing it up or this is just all a coincidence?" Sam asks absently while her hand scratches at the Band-Aid on her inner elbow where her IV once was. "More importantly do you think he gets free chicken from KFC?"

"Sam, c'mon. You need to keep up your strength." Carly scolds lightly and Sam's chin dropped accordingly.

"While you do make a truly delicious PB&J, the medicine they give me makes me nauseas and I'd rather not puke my guts out in front of company." Carly watches amused as Sam gestures at her vaguely with her good hand.

"Remember that bet you had with Freddie? Who could eat the most creamed corn in an hour?" Carly reminds, remembering how quickly things can go from boring to disturbing around her best friend, then watches the memory flare in Sam's eyes and manifest in a smirk.

"I totally kicked his weird shaped butt."

"Yeah you did." Carly concedes, "But then I watched you throw up creamed corn all night. So, I'm actually quiet familiar with your vomiting habits and besides you're in my house. You're my company." She finishes raising her eyebrow while simultaneously making her point.

"That was different." Sam tries lamely, running her fingernails over the rough material of her cast. "And also, barfing hurts. Feels like my spleen is falling out or, ya know, what's left of it."

Sam yawns suddenly, stretching a little and Carly wonders idly if the bruises on her face and neck hurt when she stretches like that.

Ever since Sam had finally, finally woken up after her surgery she'd been exhausted, barely able to stay conscious for more than a few hours and now, even after being discharged she still seems perpetually exhausted. Which sort of doesn't explain why they're sitting awake at 2 am watching The Bride of Frankenstein without the sound on.

"Tired?" Carly asks while Sam pushes herself onto her back again and the movement causes Sam to grimace and clutch at her chest again.

"Geeze, more like in pain." She chokes out weakly and Carly watches her nervously.

"Do you want another pain pill?" Carly questions and Sam shakes her head.

"I took one a few minutes ago it should be kicking in soon, so unless you want me to go into cardiac arrest again I probably shouldn't"

Carly winces at Sam's joke, "That's not funny, Sam."

And then a burst of memory exploded in the back of Carly's head.

Of Sam on the slick ground, the neon orange backboard underneath her while the lights from the ambulance and fire trucks and police cars all danced in the darkness, illuminating the night in a flashing, twisted way. Illuminating the blood on Sam's face.

Carly remembered how the paramedics cut away Sam's shirt and exposed her soft yellow bra to all of the people standing around staring and gawking and Carly had been so angry at the medics for that. Until the defibrillator was charged and someone yelled 'Clear'

"Sorry." Sam murmurs, rubbing at her abdomen absently.

"Okay?" Carly wonders anxiously, coming back to herself, and Sam waves away her concern like she always does, like she always has.

"Maybe you shouldn't be up so late."

"No biggie." Sam exhales, sinking into the bed but Carly realizes that, yeah, this is a biggie. "So how's the shoulder?" She asks in her patented awkward subject changing way that only Sam has.

"The doctor says I'll be fine." Carly says swinging her arm around demonstratively "But I won't be doing any cartwheels anytime soon." Carly mutters twisting around and looking down at her shoulder but she winces a little at the action.

"Bummer. I know you love doing cartwheels and other assorted flips." Sam laughs.

"I do have a fondness for rotating repeatedly through the air." Carly deadpans while her fingers gripped at Sam's foot through the blankets. Mapping out her toes, the arch of her foot and the curve of her ankle.

"You have small feet." Carly mutters absently, eyes tracking her fingers movement carefully in the nearly non existent light.

"Well my grandma's a geisha so small feet run in my family." Sam whispers with a laugh and when Carly glances up at the other girl, she's watching her with hooded, tired eyes.

"Hey, you're falling asleep on me." Carly teases while her thumb slides along the sole of Sam's foot, pressing lightly. "That's rude."

"Don't take it personal. Blame it on the Vicodin." Sam sighs, blinking rapidly. "And you're massaging my foot so I'm pretty much at your mercy."

"At my mercy, huh?" Carly grins and Sam just makes an affirming sound in the back of her throat.

"Do your worst, Carly Shay."

"I'll just try not to be completely offended by your lack of focus." Carly answers and Sam inhales so so slowly in a way that Carly has come to realize means her friend wouldn't be able to fight off the effects painkillers for much longer.

Carly glances up at the television, absently rubbing Sam's foot.

"Hey, C'mon. Keep talking." Sam pleads quietly and Carly smiles softly at her.

"I'm letting you sleep."

"No, c'mon." Sam exhales, peering down the bed with tired eyes at Carly. "Just talk to me. For some reason your voice helps me siesta…no offense."

"Yeah, the fact that when I talk you loose consciousness isn't offensive at all." Carly sighs.

Sam's foot pushes playfully at Carly's hand from under the sheets. "Aw, c'mon. You know I find you very entertaining."

"Okay, fine." Carly agrees shifting on the bed.

So she talks, mostly about nonsense, school and TV and any other dull thing that invades her brain, while her fingers walk absently up Sam blanket covered shins until the other girls sinks into a deep medicated sleep.

Then Carly is slipping back into bed beside Sam, climbing under the covers and carefully avoiding jostling her too much.

Carly colors in the last 'E' of 'Carly Waz Here!' on Sam's cast carefully with the blue magic maker she keeps in her bedside table with the clock that is currently flashing 3:01 am.

"So are you glad to be out of the hospital?" Carly asks peering at Sam who is lying on her stomach beside her on the bed, arm outstretched towards Carly for easy doodling access.

"I am but you know what I kind of miss?" Sam mutters around the slightly stale peanut butter and jelly sandwich she's eating with one hand while Carly puts graffiti on her cast and she watches TV.

"The nurse that looks like the best of Drake Bell and Tom Higginson all mixed together?" Carly suggests starting to scribble a heart on the rough material of the cast.

"No. Well, yeah, I'll definitely miss hot male nurse." Sam says around a bite of sandwich. "But the hospital food was actually pretty good when I wasn't throwing it up."

"They had good, Jello." Carly agrees and Sam nods.

"The best."

Sam finishes her sandwich before laying her head on the bed with an exhausted sigh, watching Carly write on her cast absently before falling asleep.

Carly watches her go.

Carly doesn't dream about the accident all that much. Her dreams are usually monotonous and boring where she's at school with Sam and Freddie and they're just there or they're inane and outrageous where she ends up fighting fire breathing elephants with only a licorice rope. But sometimes she does dream about the accident.

And Carly's not really sure if it can be called dreaming so much as remembering because that's what she does.

She remembers the squealing, screaming, crunching of metal slamming into metal and the gut wrenching feeling just after impact, just after the car stopped skidding across the asphalt, when she realized what happened.

She remembers the gaping hole where the windshield use to be and the acrid smell of smoke.

She remembers trying not to panic even though it was so hard because Sam was hurt real bad, in the passengers seat. She recalls telling Sam that everything would be okay over the sound of Freddie struggling with his seat belt in the back seat.

She remembers when Sam stopped answering her question and the longest moments of her life before the paramedics got there.

Carly wakes up slowly, like swimming up through Jello before prying her eyes open with a groan. Her alarm clock flash 3:48 am at her from her night stand behind Sam's now empty plate and Carl rolls over slightly to find Sam face down in her pillow, blond hair falling heavy and shine everywhere.

Movie credits scroll across the television screen and Carly finds the remote under the sea of blankets before clicking the TV off.

"Hey, I was watching that?" Sam declares, her words slurred together and Carly smiles, watching the other girl turn her face towards her without opening her eyes.

"Oh yeah, what part was it on?" Carly asks and Sam makes a groan in the back of her throat.

"My favorite part." She declares and Carly only laughs tiredly, reaching out to gather and sweep all of Sam's hair to the side.

At first Carly thinks the bruise on the side of Sam's neck is just a shadow but when she leans in to touch it with light fingertips Sam hisses and pulls back a little.

"Sorry." Carly murmurs even though she despite Sam's burst of coherency, the other girl seems to be asleep again. Carly figures the bruise probably came from the hit and jerk of the accident, the force of her seatbelt locking on impact.

Carly pulls down the strap of Sam's tank top and peering at the bruise that instead of disappearing, melts into another and another that Carly can only see by sliding up the bottom hem of Sam's shirt.

Her back is more or less mottled with purple, yellow and green bruises that are most likely from her broken and bruised ribs.

Carly watches the other girls back rise and fall so slowly and she has to swallow at the memory of the monstrous machine that Sam was hooked up to when her lung collapsed.

She presses her ear to Sam's back, her fingers resting on the boney ridges of the other girls spine and Carly finds the rise and fall of her back reassuring, the heavy slow thump of her heart comforting. And Sam smells like the pomegranate body scrub that Carly keeps in her bathroom and that Spencer constantly tries to eat and her skin is soft and freckled and Carly's so glad that Sam's okay.

Carly rubs her fingertips against the silky skin under the strap of her blue bra with orange stars and swallows.

"Carls?" Sam calls lucidly twisting out of Carly's touch, onto her back. "Fondling costs five dollars."

"Sorry." Carly croaks but now she's even with Sam's abdomen and Sam touches her hair gently.

There's a long beat of silence and Carly looks up at Sam contemplatively. "You thought you were going to die?" Carly asks carefully and Sam takes a deep breath, fingers still twisting in the ends of Carly's dark hair.

"I was scared but I spent most of the time unconscious or ya know, clinically dead so I didn't really have time to think about dying." Sam sort of laughs and Carly touches the space where Sam's tank top and pajama pants don't quiet meet, her thumb rubbing circles on Sam's hip bone.

"I thought you were gonna die." Carly admits and Sam just shrugs as if Carly just said that she wanted to borrow her jacket.

"Technically you were right but I'm resilient. I come from a long line of people that survive the impossible. My uncle Marty once got shot in the face and except for the feeding tube, is absolutely fine." Sam explains and Carly knows she's just trying to make her feel better.

"Do you remember anything else?" Carly asks, sliding her hand under Sam's shirt and Sam sort of shudders as Carly's fingers lightly trace the scaring incision before bumping into the bottom of edge of her bra.

"I remember being in the car. Freddie was asking if I was okay even though his stupid leg was broken and you were unconscious but that's it." Sam finishes a little breathlessly as Carly covers her breast hesitantly.

"What're you doing?" Sam swallows arching slightly into Carly's timid touch.

"I have five dollars." Carly murmurs using her other hand to nudge Sam's shirt higher.


Carly pushes herself up to hover over Sam and the other girl stares up at her with the blue of her eyes barely visible and her pupils blown wide open.

She kisses her easily, probably easier than kissing her best friend should be but Sam doesn't push her away, just parts her lips, then her teeth and lets Carly twist her tongue, hot and curious, inside of her mouth.

They've done this before, just once and it had been a blind fumbling and eager touching that led to an awkward morning and months of dream haunting for Carly.


Sam's cast is heavy and scratchy against Carly's shoulder and her thighs are soft and damp and restless against Carly's shoulders as she licks slow and focused between Sam's legs.

Sam's good hand fists tight in Carly's hair, her hips lifting and stomach flexing so hard that Carly thinks that it has to hurt her healing ribs. But the low, weak, breathless sounds she's making don't sound like pain at all.

Carly's never gone down on a girl before, only entertained the idea in the darkness of her room with a hand moving frantically inside of her sleeping shorts but she's sure this is something that she can get use to, something she'll think about constantly especially because Sam's breathing so hard and desperate.

She's glad that she can make Sam feel like this especially since she feels like she's the one that caused her so much pain.

Carly had been driving the car, the cool hybrid that she got for her 17th birthday with Freddie in the back seat and Sam shotugn and yeah the person that hit them was drunk but Carly still feels guilty.

She almost killed Sam.

Carly finds her clit, concentrates on that soft wet spot until she feels something give and explode inside of Sam.

"Ca…" Sam chokes out, head arched back into Carly's pillow and body shuddering helplessly. Carly pulls away and watches raptly, dragging her hand over her slick mouth absently.

Sam's breakdown is incredibly beautiful and Carly slides up her body, the pajama pants she's still wearing rasping across Sam's flushed skin.

"Are you okay?" Carly swallows making sure to keep her weight off of Sam's body so she's on her hands and knees while she plants her lips on Sam until the other girl comes back to herself enough to kiss back. "Are you okay." Carly asks again and Sam gives her a fleeting smile, her trembling hands pushing her tee shirt out of the way to get to the drawstring on Carly's pants while Carly palms her breast captivated.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Sam grunts absently finally getting Carly's pants open and shoving her hand inside.

"Geeze." Carly groans when Sam finds her slick and hot.

"It's not your fault."

Sam whispers quietly, the room still shrouded in near darkness but the television is on now, a infomercial for sausage on the screen.

"The accident." Sam clarifies as she and Carly lie face to face on the bed on their sides, her thumb swirling around the tip of Carly's breast in the most distracting way.

"I was driving." Carly whispers and Sam shakes her head a little, her cast resting awkwardly between them.

"So was that drunk guy who hit us. They call it an accident for a reason Carls because its an accident."

"I know but…" Carly tries but Sam cuts her off.

"It's okay." Sam says quietly, "You're okay. Freddie is okay. I'm okay."

"I know but…"

"No buts." Sam says tiredly . "Everything's okay. Now go to sleep." Sam orders and Carly smiles leaning in to kiss the other girl softly.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Night Carls."