Forever's As Far As I'll Go.

Most mornings Beth woke up rather quickly - after all, once you hit the
snooze bar so many times you didn't have a lot of time to fool around.  But 
when the man of her house was in residence, things tended to move more
slowly.  Beth would get up a little earlier and give herself more time for
her morning rituals, sometimes she even managed a run before her shower if
Sam got her moving in time.  He would concoct something for breakfast and
they would share the newspaper until it was time for her to leave.  He
would drive her to work, so as to have the use of her car, and then he 
would go off in search of Fort Billy.  Beth had long since made sure that
she'd done nothing to help him find it.

There were times when their cozy lifestyle frightened her a little.  Married
people acted this way, did the dishes together, read the paper together,
played shoving games to get space over the bathroom sink.  but there were 
other times when the absolute certainty that Sam loved her was like balm 
on a wound.  She would walk out of work tired, frazzled and annoyed...and
there he would be waiting, with a cold bottle of iced tea from the store.   
He would drive home and order something to be delivered for dinner and 
while they waited, his strong fingers would knead the tension from her back.  
He was becoming more comfortable with her, with their relationship, with 
the depth of the emotion they aroused in one another and now he could act 
more like a man and less like some high-school Romeo.  Once or twice Deputy
Sam had even surfaced, but his gruffness had only amused her.  She knew it
had happened only because he knew he couldn't scare her off with it.

The learning curve had been tough in this regard for Sam.  Beth respected
his attempt to tackle it and loved him that much more for it.  When 
Government Sam got loose it was a testament to his trust in her.  She would 
smile indulgently and dig him in the ribs.  He understood the hint, usually 
responding with the kind of hug that made Beth's ribs creak.  And if the
hopeless romantic reared his drippy head she would listen quietly and crawl
into his arms, knowing it was really the only response he needed.

Things took on realistic colors once Sam's personal belongings started
showing up in her apartment.  His razor now sat in the medicine cabinet,
along with shaving cream and bottles of cologne.  His boxers had nudged
into the drawer alongside her more delicate things, and sometimes she
accidentally grabbed a pair of his thick athletic socks when she was after
her own.  There were a couple of boxes of his favorite cereal in her kitchen
cupboard - crap looked like mulch, but he loved it.  There was a smaller
dresser where he kept his jeans and t-shirts, two or three anonymous
sportcoats in the front closet and his Marshal's jacket in the bedroom.
Beth had staked a fierce claim on this garment, wore it whenever possible
and told Sam he could only have it back long enough to renew its scent.

He had also brought with him things to amuse himself - books on the Old
West, two or three Larry McMurtry's that duplicated her own and some thick
military histories and biographies.  He'd also brought a portion of his 
music collection, an eclectic mix of classic rock, smooth jazz and, worst
of all, shitkicking country music.  The Eric Clapton and Pat Metheny she
appreciated.  The Shania Twain, Joe Diffie and Vince Gill she regarded
dimly, but at least it wasn't that hardcore new age space cadet Yanni music.
She could deal with the country - there was some vague sense to it.  Now, 
Billy was another story.  He had seen the Garth Brooks and Bellamy Brothers
and Travis Tritt and had set up such a derisive series of hoots and yells
that she's needed to take her plant mister, set on stream, to shut him up.

Beth:  They're not mine.  They're Sam's.

The hoots and hollers gor louder until she had to toss one of Sam's 
shoes at him.  Then there were cracks about pansy Reeboks until she threw  
him out entirely.

She was glad she hadn't said a damn word about the fact that Sam sometimes
sang along with his music.  He had a reasonable voice - it was best suited
to the shower and the front seat of the car at freeway speed with the
windows down, and he would never make a living with it, but it beat the
boozy mouthershouting Billy did with the Bail Jumpers by a Texas mile.  One
of Sam's particular favorites was something by the Bellamy Brothers.  The
only thing Beth had managed to get from it was that they guy had a dog 
called Catahoula but when Sam was feeling exuberant he just howled along
with it, sounding a fair bit like the dog in question.

The country invasion continued from an unexpected quarter.  Billy slammed
into the library one day with two CD's hanging off the tips of his fingers.
Beth stifled an urge to ask him if he'd ever had any experience with
soiled diapers.

Billy:  What in hell are these?

Beth:  CD's.  Anything else I can help you with?  Want a tour?  No?  Get
lost.

Billy:  They ain't mine.

Beth:  You've cornered the market on entertainment software?  You're
good.

Billy:  I'm gonna take this damn cube apart.

Teri:  Promises, promises.

Billy:  Alabama?  What in hell's an Alabama?

Beth:  Rather prominent country act, as I recall.  Where'd you get them
from?

Billy:  That black CD wallet my punk hauls around in her car...

Beth:  Damn, Holmes, I think you've done it again!  They're Deb's!

Billy stepped up, put her in the corner made by her cube wall and her
desktop.

Billy:  Take 'em.

Beth:  Why?  Just give them back to Deb.  They're hers.

Billy:  I don't want the sonofabitchin' things around.  I might bust 'em
and then she'd go off on me.

Beth:  Can't have that now, can we?

Billy:  You're pushin' it, Twerp.  Oh...and what the hell d'you know about 
some damn ass measurin' my patio door and talkin' about bustin' out the
wall?

Beth:  Well, geez, Bill...that sounds like it's right up your alley.

Billy:  Damn, you're a regular laugh riot, pipsqueak.  I'm gonna have a
talk with a certain redhead.  She might know.

Beth:  She might.  Then again, maybe the bunker's just been slated for
urban renewal.  Give those here, I'll hold on to them  for her so your
fingers won't rot off.

The next person to find the CD's was Sam.  And then he had another song
to sing with.  She first heard him stumbling through this one as he was
getting ready for bed - he was pottering around in the bathroom and probably
didn't ever realize he was singing at all.  Beth listened, found it was
soothing.  His voice was rough, uncertain with the lack of volume and the
continuity of the words was broken now and again.  But something about the
words had stuck him enough that they stayed with him.

I'm not a man who falls too easily
So I think it's best you know just where you stand with me...
I will give you my heart faithful and true
And all the love it can hold, that's all I can do
I've thought about how long I'll love you
And it's only fair that you know
Forever's as far as I'll go.

Beth:  Where'd you hear that?

Sam:  Found a couple of CD's...I didn't know you liked Alabama.

Beth:  Actually, I don't.  They're Deb's

Sam:  Shit!  I don't believe it!

Beth:  Billy brought 'em over, actin' like they were gonna poison him, so
I said I'd keep 'em until I could give 'em back.

Sam:  Wonder if she'll miss 'em.

Beth:  Now, Sam.

Sam:  I'll return 'em.  But I haven't heard that song in a while.  I hope 
you don't think I'm backsliding, Squirrel, but...but it says what I feel
better than I can.

Beth wrapped her arms around his thigh and rested her cheek on his bent 
knee.

Beth:  I know, sometimes you just have to say it.  It's not the usual
trash.  And it's really very sweet.  And forever is just about long
enough.

She felt his hand on her head, gently rubbing.

Beth:  So, what's new on the real estate front?

Sam:  Good question.  Character keeps sayin' he's sent me the purchase 
agreement as an attachment with the last e-mail but I only get the e-mails
that don't have the attachment.

So he wasn't backsliding.  He moved right on to other subjects.  He
simply spoke his piece and waited for developments.  It was a good thing
because she was laughing soundlessly, quivering against his leg.  The big
hand tightened on the curve of her skull and her head was turned before
she could wipe the grin off her face.

Sam:  You think that's pretty funny?

Beth:  No.  Not really.

Sam:  Maybe you know something about it?

Beth:  I can't think what.

Sam:  Something to do with my baby sister?

Beth's laughter escaped her in gurgles and snorts.

Sam:  Thought so.  Hand me the phone?

Beth:  It's late, they're probably in bed...sweating and screaming and
whatever else it is Billy likes to make her do.

Sam:  How much does she tell you?

Beth:  Enough.

Sam:  How much do you tell her?

Beth:  She said I should make strawberry pancakes for breakfast, so I can
lick strawberry glaze off you...after it drips a while...

Sam:  Gimme that phone.  That shit-ass is like a bat.  And a bomb going off
wouldn't wake Deb up, I found that out when we had to share that hotel room.

Beth:  No wonder she gets along so well with Ryan...

Sam:  Damn, girl!

Sam pushed her back out of the way and lunged across her body...but then 
their eyes locked and he forgot to reach for the phone.

TO BE CONTINUED...