Sam loved his new apartment and his new obsession. Even if it was much smaller than his last one, he also didn't have all of Christine's crap filling three quarters of the space. So he had enough room in the living area to place the massive desk he'd confiscated from his father's agency and a large blackboard.

That way, he could work from home, brush up on his ancient Egyptian, and try to figure out more from that photograph about the jewels.

He'd figured that the inscription was a recounting of an ancient artifact bestowed upon the Egyptian people which had been severed by Ra's chariot into seven pieces called The lights of the gods.

He'd poured over the exact translation for days to make sure he wasn't reading it wrong. Because the name reminded him of something else, something that had him searching into his own archives from Mexico and the photos they had taken of the scribbling on the temple walls.

The light of the gods was a thing. The Mayans had used the term, too, and it had to mean something.

His mind had blissfully moved on from mundane things such as death and heartache and focused fully on unraveling an ancient mystery about giant jewels with curious properties. Jimmy had been right. Losing yourself in work was the way to go.

It was so easy to zone out and visualize the hieroglyphs, both Egyptian and Mayan, that it was sometimes hard to focus on his surroundings. Which was how he barely managed to dodge a right hook from Skye.

His late reaction gave her the opening to land a kick in his gut. He hopped back, wheezing, and caught her next fist in midair. Despite the fact he'd rendered her attack useless, she was grinning.

"I got you," she said. "I can't believe I got you."

Just to make sure her head wasn't getting too big, he tripped her and slammed her on the mattress. "You can't stop and do a happy dance every time you land a hit."

"Of course not. But this is the first time I touched you! Even you should find that impressive."

He wasn't sure if to burst her bubble, but giving her too much selfconfidence in battle was probably a bad idea. "I sort of zoned out. I was comparing hieroglyphs again."

Skye huffed and got up, leaning her hands on her bent knees. "So I'm not even good enough to warrant your full attention."

They were alone in the Agency training room, well past closing hours, both of them doing overtime. She was obviously tired and so was he, but he'd promised to train her and she needed to learn. She was actually pretty good at it, much more talented than Christine ever was.

"You are getting much better."

She blew the tendrils that had fallen loose from her braid out of her face, and gave him a skeptical look. He in turn glanced at the ceiling because that position was giving him a too good view of her cleavage and he'd been doing his best lately not to project unrequited love on her.

"So are you," she said unexpectedly. "You've been very full of life over the past week."

He had. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this motivated about anything. A good mystery would do that.

"Thanks. Now let's run the course and call it a night. You're obviously tired." And he wanted to get home and bounce ideas off his blackboard more.

"I'll run it by myself, if that's okay."

"Are you sure?" He didn't know why he was asking because the look on her face was the stubborn one he'd learned not to argue with.

She'd never run the obstacle course alone, though. But he wasn't kidding when he said she was improving greatly. Maybe it was time. So he let her climb to the top, told her wen to start, and turned on the stopwatch. For a few minutes, he followed her progress, impressed by how fast she was going, even if a little sloppily.

Then, his mind went into a different direction, once again picturing the hieroglyphs and the angle in which each stone was drawn. He'd reached an obvious conclusion that the jewels were not exactly jewels, but part of a bigger space rock which had crashed in Egypt a long time ago and maybe split in seven upon impact. That would certainly explain the Ra hitting them with his chariot part. But the question now was, did they spread out upon impact with the Earth's atmosphere or did they all fall in Egypt and were later spread out across the globe? What if there were more?

A grunt from Skye turned his attention back to her. She'd missed a platform, fallen in between, and was now struggling to get herself back up. Sam took one step towards the course, but stopped himself. She was so close to the end, and intervening now would ruin her progress. So he waited, his eyes fixed on her as she finally managed to pull herself up on the final platform. Even if she was high up, he could see the victorious look on her face.

With a grin, she basically threw herself off the last platform and grabbed the final rope that would allow her to climb down to the floor. Her descent only lasted a second before she yelled and let go of the rope. He ran under her and reached out his hands. Her weight was bigger than he'd anticipated. It was like catching a very soft boulder. His knees gave out and he fell on his ass, but managed to keep her vertical.

Skye didn't seem to care she'd brought him down. Her eyes were closed, tears streamed down her face, and her hands shook.

"What happened?" he asked. "You were doing so good."

She shook her head, her chin trembling. A low whimper escaped her lips and he finally realized what went wrong. She'd grabbed the rope with too much force and burned her hands sliding down.  His suspicion was confirmed once he rested her body in his lap and turned one of her hands over. Her skin was pink and looked gooey, as if covered by a thin sheet of honey.

She hissed and pulled away, cradling her hands.

"Oh, Skye. You hurried."

"Shush," she muttered, her teeth clattering together. "I'll be fine."

"You need to wash up. And--"

"I know what I need to do," she snapped. "I'm a freaking doctor."

Right. He kept forgetting that she actually went through med school even if she'd chosen to practice psychiatry.

She struggled against him, obviously wanting back on her feet, but unable to push off him. He helped her up, watching her warily. He'd gotten rope burn before and knew how much it hurt, so the fact that she wasn't bawling her eyes out was impressive.

"I think it's safe to say we're done for the night," he said, his tone careful.

She glanced at him between the tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap." Her words were still shaky. "I was doing so well."

"You did do well. Even with the last fall, you broke your previous record."

She nodded, but didn't exactly seem thrilled.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

"No, I've got this." And she turned around and walked towards the girls' lockers. 

Sam went to his own, stroking the palms of his hands with his thumbs, trying to assure himself that he had no woulds of his own. He should really ask her what the hell was up with sympathy pain. But sympathy pain or not, he was perfectly capable of taking a short shower and pulling his pants on. As he opened his locker for deodorant, he wondered if he should go home or stick around at the Agency some more. He'd taken most of his research out of there because he wasn't ready to admit that he'd broken into forbidden folders using Herrison's account, but there were a lot more books in his office here.

Was there a chance to discover why one of the jewels had been in Montana of all places? France didn't matter, he'd crossed it out at once since Europe was known for indulging in Egyptian artifacts. Whatever left the continent however...

"Sam?"

He turned around so fast, he dropped everything he was holding, shirt included. Skye stood in the doorway to the lockers, her face marred with tears, still dressed in her workout equipment of large t-shirt and leggings. Her braid hung over her shoulder and she looked exhausted.

"What's up?"

"I can't..." She shook her head and reached out her hands. Now the skin on her palms looked a little yellowish, as if she'd dunked them in honey completely, but he knew that wasn't the case. "Could you please..."

"Sure." He walked over to her and helped her out of her t-shirt, making sure none of the material touched her hands. It left her in a sports bra and her leggings and he did his best not to stare or think into this in any way. But she was an hourglass, he'd give her that.

"I can't take a shower, I can't..." Her words were filled with annoyance and pain as she obviously struggled with not being able to do everything herself. They also snapped him out of calculating the slope between her waist and her hips.

"Drive," he guessed. Couldn't undress, couldn't eat, couldn't do anything because touching set her skin on fire. "I think I have a spray for burns, hold on." That devilish thing had become necessary, but it hurt like hell even on minor burns. Hers would probably catch fire literally.

She watched him return, head tilted, a mild crease between her eyes. Once he showed her the spray she nodded and shut her eyes. The moment he applied it, she let out a scream of pain, but even if her hands shook so badly it looked like she was waving them around, she gritted her teeth, stuck her elbows to her sides, and let him go a second round.

It was awful. He felt like hugging her, but it would probably be less than appreciated at the moment. Plus, that was when he realized he hadn't actually put a shirt on and they were both half naked.

"I could give you my shirt. Easier to put on than whatever tight thing you have." He expected backlash, but all he got was a tiny nod.

So he pulled on a t-shirt, rolled back the sleeves of his shirt and put it on her, wrapping her in it like a dress. Then he put his jacket over her shoulders, ushered her to his car and drove her home. She was silent on the way and he didn't try to force conversation on her, but when they finally reached her place, he was at a loss.

"I'm not dying, you know," she finally said. "You can talk to me."

"I just didn't want to annoy you."

"How suddenly considerate of you, Snowflake."

The word didn't sound harsh at all. It hadn't in a very long time, and Sam had come to see it as endearing. Which was maybe a problem given that he was doing his damn best to keep this professional. It was also the reason he'd been quiet and considerate, because seeing her hurt only made him want to fawn over her like a damn idiot. When had everything changed so much? He used to hate the woman and now he was forcing himself not to pretend that he was in love with her. He definitely needed to get out more and meet some other woman he could fall in love with.

"Need help going up?"

She hesitated, but finally sighed. "I think I should stop pretending that I can do this on my own tonight. Yes, please."

Skye lived on the seventh floor, so the view from her floor-to-ceiling windows was pretty good, and also enough to make him slightly nauseous. The apartment resembled his new one with just a living space with built in kitchen and one bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. She hadn't filled the place with a lot of furniture, but the little she did have was in mahogany shades, complemented by light upholstery. The many shelves were filled with books, trinkets and a few photos showing Skye traveling. Mostly alone. There were no pictures of friends or family.

"Stop looking at my memorabilia. That's not why you're here," she snapped, resembling the old, rude psychiatrist.

"Okay, would you like me to help you take a shower?"

That drove the snark right out of her and she stared at him with a look like he was a brain dead idiot. That was also very familiar.

"What?" He shrugged. "I'm a grown boy. I can help you undress and turn on the water with my eyes closed."

She kept staring at him as if she didn't believe he had other senses outside of seeing. Which was a bit much coming from her since she couldn't touch anything. A mild blush crept to her cheeks and she looked away from him.

"And are you going to also help me wash? Because your closed eyes won't matter much then."

Oh. It was time for his face to catch fire. He hadn't thought that far. He'd thought he'd sort of leave her to it.

"So I'm guessing no shower. Let me make you and sandwich." And he disappeared behind the couch she sat on and into the kitchen just to get away and curse under his breath. Damn mental images that refused to leave his head.

He focused on digging food out of her fridge and making a sandwich by basically putting everything between two slices of bread. How was she going to handle herself for the rest of her evening? The following days? Burns to the palms did heal faster than in other places of the body, but still, at the moment, he couldn't remember just how fast.

"Maybe I should help you bandage your hands?" he said as he sat on the other side of the coffee table and placed the plate with the sandwich on it.

"I should keep the burns out in the open for a little while longer, at least until tomorrow," she mumbled, staring at the sandwich. "Air is good for them." Her stomach rumbled. "God, I hate to ask, but..."

"You don't have to." He took the food and leaned forward so that she could take a bite. On some level, this was beyond awkward. At the same time, it felt natural. She'd taken care of him and now it was his turn to take care of her. "I think I'm going to grab my stuff tomorrow."

Skye chewed faster, her eyes lighting up with interest. "Something special tomorrow?"

His three month anniversary since breaking up with Christine? Not that he'd been counting or anything. He just shrugged.

"I meant if you know she won't be home." She took another bite out of the sandwich and watched him as if he were a tasty sandwich as well. She definitely liked her fun.

"I don't. Last thing I know she quit her major in college and she never actually had a schedule. So she could be there or not." He had no idea which he hoped for either.

"Do you still feel like yelling at her?"

"Right now, no. But who knows how I'll react if I see her. All I know is that I definitely don't feel like having angry sex with her."

Skye smirked. "Was that an issue before?"

It sort of was, but he decided to answer her question with another shrug, knowing she'd read through his devil-may-care attitude with too much ease.

"Anyway," she finally said, "it's important that you want to do this and believe you're ready."

He really did. And it was all thanks to her and the way she managed to dissect his feelings until he realized it really wasn't such a big deal, but rather an unhealthy codependency.

"Do you still love her?"

Skye's question was so low, he realized she was a little afraid to ask, which in itself was pretty weird. It was a very valid question and one he'd been wondering about for the past two weeks almost as much as about the possibility that the jewels were actually space rocks. And, since he'd been obsessing over it, he actually had an answer.

"I love the person I thought she was. I don't think I ever loved who she really is. We've always been so different, but I thought we'd grow up together." Grow old together.

Skye hesitated. "Do you think you would've married her if she hadn't cheated?"

What was scary was that he was convinced he would have. And that they would've been miserable with him never feeling good enough, never realizing that maybe she wasn't good enough for him. The thought was new, but it was freeing in a way nothing else was.

"Yes," he whispered. "Even if she wasn't good enough for me." It felt even better to say it out loud.

Skye suddenly leaned over the coffee table and caught him in a clumsy hug. He hugged her back, trying to keep her from toppling over the table and throwing the rest of the sandwich to the floor.

"Finally, Snowflake," she whispered in his ear. "You were always too good for her and the fact that she never realized it was her fault. You're not the one who should be suffering, but you are, because you're the bigger person."

And for once he felt like she was right, that he could actually be the bigger person and maybe forgive her and himself and move on. The same applied with Harry. He could do this. He was much stronger than he'd been before. If only he could be happy by himself and not need Skye there to hold him and pat his head...

Her phone rang, fortunately ending their hug. Sam immediately picked it up, glanced at the screen and showed it to her, since it was a strange number. She nodded, so he answered it and stuck it to her ear.

"Doctor Skye Brandon," she answered, all business. Then the color drained from her face as a man's voice started  gibbering from the other end of the line. "How'd you get my number?" she whispered.

The fear in her tone seemed to have fueled the guy, because his voice rose. Sam couldn't make out the words and maybe it was rude, but he wasn't letting anyone give her a hard time, not now. So he pulled the phone away and covered the speaker.

"Do you know the guy?" he asked.

She just nodded, a tiny tip of her chin, her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"What's his name?"

"Lucas," she whispered.

Her voice was shaking. Freaking shaking, and that guy was still talking in a tone that rubbed Sam the wrong way. Maybe it was rude, but she had the power to stop him with one word. He stood and put the phone to his ear.

"Slow down there, Lucas. She's not listening anymore."

There was shocked silence from the other end of the line. "Who the hell is this?"

"Who the hell are you?" Sam retaliated. He was going to drive that guy crazy if it was the last thing he did.

"Put Skye back on. Who do you think you are?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't like your tone."

"Look buddy, this is way beyond you. This is between me and her--"

"Wrong. It's between you and me. I don't care who you are, but nobody talks to her like that, you presumptuous douche."

"Sam..." Skye whispered, but it didn't stop him. Not strong enough of an opposition to what he was doing.

The guy had the nerve to laugh. "I was five seconds away from marrying her, so I think I trump whoever you are by miles. Now put her back on, she'll want to hear this."

There was a short pause as Sam tried to process what he'd just heard, but his mouth was a lot faster than his conscious mind, and for once, he didn't regret it. "Five seconds too late, pal. Now I'll be marrying her and you can just watch and cry, loser. If you ever call her again, I'll find you and I'll break your legs. Pinkie promise." And he hang up.

It took maybe five seconds for him to realize that Skye was in the room with him and had heard his brilliant answer. And indeed, she was staring at him with wide eyes as if he was crazy. He most certainly was or he wouldn't have blurted that out with her there.

"Skye, I was--"

She knocked her head back and started laughing, so honestly and so freed. He took the chance and laughed too, because he'd just said it to shut that guy up. And by her reaction, he hadn't done anything wrong. The knowledge was freeing, even if he'd made a complete ass of himself in front of her.

It took them over ten minutes to calm down enough to speak.

"So I didn't mess up?" he asked, still drawing breath.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I never want to speak to that asshole again. I can only imagine the look on his stupid, smug face. If he called, he definitely wanted to get back together because he couldn't find something better. And now that he thinks I have, he's most likely stewing."

"Of course he couldn't find something better. I doubt he ever will."

His words ended her last rounds of giggling abruptly. Her wide eyes took him in, as if trying to analyze if he was making fun of her. Good thing he wasn't, or he had the feeling she'd gore him with a butcher knife even with her burnt hands.

"Thanks," she finally said.

It was getting a bit awkward, so he did what he did best. Spill out word vomit to fill the silence. "I'm sorry."

"About?"

"Making fun of you for having no husband and no family." Yes, he should definitely learn when to shut up.

She winced, but answered. "You couldn't have known. Plus, it's been ages."

"So, what happened?" Yay for more word vomit, but he was curious and it was her choice whether to answer or not.

"We were high school sweethearts," she said, glancing at her hands. "I was still in med school when he proposed. We got engaged right on that platform at Niagara Falls. Our engagement lasted for a little over one year in which everything seemed to be going well. Seemed being the operative word. I was so caught up with school that I didn't notice him gradually pulling away. Which would've been fine, really, if he'd had the guts to let me know beforehand. The coward didn't have the nerve to cancel the wedding. He just never showed..." Her voice still cracked and Sam let her have a moment.

"I'm really sorry."

"You didn't know. And as I look back, I realize it was for the best. Unfortunately, we had too many memories and common friends between us, so I just wanted to leave it all behind..."

"You came here."

She just nodded then raised her eyes and grinned at him. "And apparently met the man I'm actually going to marry."

He cringed. "Yeah, don't read into that. I just wanted to shut him up."

"But it was such an obvious proposal."

"I intend my proposal to be a lot more romantic than that."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He would've insisted that he didn't mean it, but he could tell she was just messing with him, so he saw no point. Instead, he finished feeding her the sandwich, wished her a good night and left her to it. And on his way back home, he tried to smother the pleasant glow inside his chest.

♠️♠️♠️

I'm very curious what you're thinking right now. About both the jewel quest finally appearing and the latest developments of the Skye and Sam ship.

Also, you get to see a bit into her backstory. At least she's taking it pretty well.

Vote and comment for support. The next part will be interesting with Sam facing his own ghosts.

Stay tuned!