Okay, so here is something new from me. It's been awhile since I wrote something completely new, but the real world came along, and also the muse went on a little holiday. But thanks to the suggestions of Gemma and my old TB-ness it is back. Deals with some sensitive issues, and is basically my own created back story about why Sam is the character that she is, or the character that she was. Given the news about her and (excuse me while I vomit) Banksy. Can anyone say hypocritical??
Also please ignore anything that happened after Getting Personal regarding Tom Norris, if you need reminding about which one Getting Personal was, it was the one where Sam declined (yes, declined Banksy's offer of a drink, there should always be a denial) and the episode ended with Sam looking at the photo of Abi.
Enjoy! Oh and don't forget to leave a review.

Summary: SamPhil: Sam Angst: Post-ep: Getting Personal: One event made her who she was, and for twenty five years she has kept it hidden. When reminders are everywhere, then the time comes for her to tell someone. Please review x

Time To Tell.
SaMaNdPhiL4eVeR.

.ONE.

The air was cold, her feet ached, her shoes that had seemed so pretty a few hours ago had now cut her heel. The wind blew bitterly and unrelenting against her bare skin, she pulled at the thin fabric of her cardigan before leaving the doorway of the 776 Club. No one noticed her as she quickly limped along the city pavement, each step precariously balanced so that she would not fall. No one noticed her until she turned the corner away from the club and into the side street where she and her best friend Melanie had parked with her neighbour only hours ago, and as she stared towards the car Samantha Nixon's world changed, and she screamed as loudly as she was able.

Twenty five years later in a small office of the Sun Hill Police Station, Sam woke with a jolt. She had been slumped over a pile of paperwork for what seemed like hours before she had fallen into a dream, a dream of a night that she had always strived to forget. But this was no night like any other, and the memories of this night had haunted her forever. Sam straightened herself up, before standing and wandering to the door of her office. The rest of the room was dark, all except for the glow of one computer screen, which Sam assumed had been forgotten in the owners' hurry to leave the office.

Sam wondered had anyone seen her as they made their way home, trying to remember who she had last said good bye to and all that she could come up with was one of the newest members of the team Jacob Banks. He had left hours ago, inviting her for a drink as he did, and asking her if she was alright, knowing that today had been personal for her, and perhaps wanting to know why. But like usual something prevented Sam from revealing anything of her feelings, preferring as usual to keep to herself. She had tried the work friendship before, and where that had left her was the same as before, still alone with no one to talk to. Instantly, as it usually did when she thought of her past at Sun Hill, her mind wandered to Phil Hunter. Wondering what he was doing, what case he was solving now, what woman he was chasing now. Time had passed since he had left, and surprisingly the two of them spoke occasionally, but of course it wasn't the same.

She sighed, before heading back to her desk, and reading over the same piece of paperwork once more. The statement of Paula Merrick against Tom Norris, Tom Norris, another name in a long list of murderers, criminals and rapists that Sam had come into contact with over her career and then once before. She signed the bottom of the statement, before filing it neatly away in the plastic desk organisers, neatly piled on the corner of her desk. She then bent down, and opened the second drawer of her desk, Banksy had wanted to know why today seemed personal, and he had come up with maternal instincts, but as she pulled a tattered photo from the farthest corner of the drawer, maternal instincts seemed the last thing on her mind.

This was a photograph of Sam at age seventeen, smiling a carefree smile, not a worry on her mind. Next to her was her opposite in every way, Melanie, a tall brunette girl, with the darkest brown eyes Sam had ever seen, and she too was smiling a carefree smile, one of her arms slung over Sam's shoulder. Sam hadn't looked at this photo for years, she knew that it was there however, and each time she had to change desks or stations, she made sure that she could see one of the tattered corners from the front cover of her first policing manual. No one knew about this photo, and no one really knew about the night that it was taken, not her daughter, not anyone at work, not her parents, not her friends, not her ex-lovers. This was the night that when Sam had nightmares, it was of this night. It was a night that Sam had tried to forget for the longest time, but it had become a night when Sam worked out who she was, and who she was meant to be, and it was a night that had made her the woman she was today. A woman that was alone, and only had her career for company, and as she knew well, a career didn't cuddle with you on long cold nights.

Sam had, had opportunities to tell people about this night over the years, one of the biggest being when Abigail was missing, and Phil had become her confidant. She had wanted to tell him that it wasn't just the fact that her daughter was missing that was troubling her, it was the fact that she knew what people were capable of, and not just because of her career. She could have told Hugh Wallis, when he told her she needed to know what it was like to lose someone, she could have yelled at him that she already knew what it was like, and it was because of that, that she had become the woman that he knew.

She had wanted to tell someone what she was like, when she wasn't afraid to trust, afraid to let people in, afraid to love and be loved. But because now she was afraid, she'd never said anything, and every so often days would pass and she would forget that night, until the next rapist was arrested or the next Melanie lookalike would cross her path. She had contemplated leaving her career many times, when the reminders had become too much, but the reminders made her a good police officer, she could draw on the reminders to motivate her, so that she could strive to live her life and the life of someone else. However lately it seemed that the reminders were becoming more frequent, and what was once occasional remarks by her colleagues as to her ferocity regarding sexual assault cases had become more frequent. Perhaps all of this was leading her to tell someone. She sighed as she folded the photo in its well worn creases, before sliding it into the side of her handbag, which had been leant against the leg of the desk. Even that small action, of taking the photo with her was different. She sighed again, before piling the remainder of the paperwork into another neat pile, and tucking it in to the divider that was labelled incomplete.

It was late, almost ten at night, and Sam knew that she would have to be back here in the morning, early as usual. So she stood up, and pulled her coat from the back of her chair, wrapping it around her, she then bent over and picked up her handbag, hooking it over her shoulder as she made her way from her office and down towards her car. She smiled at her colleagues, all of them going about their business on night shift, she pushed open the heavy blue door, and wandered quickly towards her car, clicking the lock mechanism and climbing inside. She turned the key, and the ignition spluttered to life, before she accelerated and drove to the gates, she paused there for a moment, before indicating left, instead of right. After today, it had become clear that she needed to tell someone about that night, and for better or worse, the only person she knew to tell was him.

So?? What do we think?? Who is the 'him?'
Please review x
Oh and PL readers the next chapter will be sometime next week, I just have to write an ending to the next chapter. I promise you'll love it!