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The cold morning dawned on Samantha like a horrible wave of nausea. She could still taste the alcohol in her mouth from the previous night's events, and something else...strawberry? Must be. It took her over a minute to get her eyes to focus in the well-lit bedroom. When she finally had a look at her surroundings, it took several moments before she realized a major problem: this was not her bedroom. Through her rising panic and dread, Sam began to recall what had happened the night before.

Feeling her way through the constant blur, she remembered a strong desire to forget something...a sensation...oh, right. She had wanted to forget that dull and constant ache that had been picking her apart over the last few years. And to drown her sorrows, she had enlisted the help of a nice man named Jack Daniels. Along with a few other less personable bottles, if she was remembering correctly. But there was something else.

"Shit," Sam said aloud, surprising herself a little with the sound of her own voice. The "something else" was about 5 foot 11 and snoring softly next to her. Will. Even more than Mr. Daniels, Sam had desperately sought the comfort of one Will Evans to soothe her soul. "Apparently he was up to the job," Sam thought to herself as she tried to collect her thoughts. She certainly didn't want to have to admit to Will that she remembered nothing from the night before, even if it was possible that there was nothing to remember. ...

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