The alley behind Morgan’s Irish Bar was dark and smoky, steam from buildings on either side escaped from vents, hitting the cold night air and blanketing the alley. The only light came from a neon sign flickering EXIT and a dim street lamp at the end of the alley. The back door was closed and keeping most of the bar room noise contained, only light traffic and the occasional drunken laughter permeated the alley. The only thing Sam could smell was Malcolm Barrett, the alcohol on his breath, the coffee, his aftershave. No garbage like she expected and no burnt or torn flesh like she was so familiar with. Just her and Barrett and he was resisting and protesting.
They had been inside the bar originally, a date Sam had finally relinquished to, after one of her worst weeks to date at the SGC, his offer of a drink was welcomed eagerly. She wanted to get away from everything, and hadn’t expected Barrett to be in the mountain, let alone want to take her out.
He couldn’t been offering cheap whiskey tucked into a brown paper bag.
Morgan’s was most definitely faux Irish. Garishly green and abundant in lucky four leaf clovers, Irish music and Irish singers blaring out from tinny speakers. As promised, the Guinness was good and it wasn’t busy. She and Barrett could talk a little. He let her unload about the week, about her life. He had the clearance and the patience to listen to the steady stream of words threatening to run together and become incomprehensible. It was a one sided conversation, a one sided date, chips and Guinness and Sam knew she had either said too much or drank too much when she felt tears threaten to spill over the brim of her eyes.
They had gone outside in the need of air, of space, but being nearer to the back exit they’d found themselves deprived of both and Sam had kissed him, hard on the lips, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her. He was hard against her, running around for the N.I.D kept him fit, agile and he was cute, she thought. The only problem she’d ever had with him was he was too nice for her. She couldn’t handle nice anymore, she needed something more than that to keep her interested but tonight, tasting of Guinness and coffee, cute would do. Barrett would do. Which was a terrible thing to think of him as ‘he’ll do’ but she’d done too much to care. She just wished he’d stop resisting.
The mixed signals were frustrating, he was kissing her neck, hand on her shoulders but his body was angled away from her.
“What did you have in mind?” She asked, falling back to lean against the dirty blackened brick of the next building, his lips still attached to her skin like a limpet.
“Dinner, movies, candles.” He mumbled the words into her shoulder blade. Barrett was a hearts and flowers kinda guy and Sam was about to stamp on them. She sighed and pushed him away with more force than she intended, sending him flying backwards. He lost his balance and landed in the empty crates, hitting his head on a metal barrel with a dull crack and a sickening squelch.
He was out cold.
*****
He woke up the hearts and flowers and Sam Carter dozing in the chair next to him. The blurred date on the newspaper on her lap told him it was now Thursday. He’d been unconscious all night.
He knew he would’ve had sex with her in that alley if she had wanted. Up against the wall, or the door, or on the floor or barrel. Not what he wanted but he would’ve. He wanted to romance her a little, take her out to dinner and make love to her in a bed. His bed, her bed, whatever.
He doubted he was going to get either opportunity now.
A nurse came into the room pushing the door hard and walking through it like it wasn’t even there, making more noise then he’d would’ve expected considering she knew a patient was in the room. The bang of the door hitting wall as it swung around 180 degrees jolted Sam awake, the newspaper coming apart and fluttering to the floor in pieces. She looked at him straight away, he was the most important thing to her right them but he knew that wouldn’t last. He gave her a watery smile. She was looking at him like he was about to break or he was broken. He imagined he was as pale as the white wash on the walls around him.
“Hey.” He coughed the word out, his tongue was a rough as sand and Sam immediately reached out for the jug of water, pouring him a glass of water. The nurse helped him into a sitting position and snatched the water from Sam, helping him to drink it.
“How are you feeling?” The nurse asked briskly, “Drink slowly,” she added. Barrett took a sip of the water, Sam watching all the while.
“Tired.”
“I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake.” With quick heavy steps she left the room with as much noise as she had entered it with, the door slamming shut behind her. Barrett continued to sip on the water, unwilling to say anything until his mouth was well lubricated again. He also wanted to see what Sam would say first.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice quiet.
“I think so.” His voice was still raspy but he felt better to talk. She hesitated before speaking again, avoiding looking at him directly.
“Malcolm, I’m really sorry,” she started, “I never meant,”
“It was an accident,” he interrupted her, “and it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She sighed. “I should never have gone out with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you want more from me. I just wanted a quick fling in a back alley.”
“I want you.”
“You deserve more than that,” she continued on like she hadn’t heard him, “and I can’t give it to you right now. I’m not sure I want to. I’m not sure I want that with anybody right now.”
There was silence in the room as he took in what she said, realised her words meant she only wanted him for sex, release. She was right, he deserved more. But he still wanted it from her, the more. He wanted better from her and not someone else.
“My head hurts.” He said after a minute.
“You need to rest.” She stood and bent over him, to kiss him on the lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Maybe she’d have more for him then.