The Doctor: There's something that doesn't make sense. Let's go and poke it with a stick. -Doctor Who:Amy's Choice

The waiting room was a fascinating place.

The afternoon sunlight snuck between the blinds, bouncing off the tiled floor and leaving patterns on the wall. Between the tree outside and the way the air-conditioner gently stirred the vertical plastic slats, the light danced in front of her. She still wasn't used to it, often stopping her companion just to look at the way it bounced off of a puddle, or a car windshield.

The nurse in front of the young woman was using a three-year old Encom. To her left, Sam was reading a five year old copy of Men's Health. To her right, a little girl was staring at her.

The young woman almost asked Sam for guidance, but decided that it was better to be self-reliant. She smiled at the child, who smiled back. She had succeeded in social protocol and-

"Quorra Osi", said the nurse.

Quorra's hand shot up. "Here!"

There was giggling to her right. "You're funny," said the young girl.

Sam dropped his magazine on the table and stood up. "Well," he said, "time to say hi to Mark."

"Sam!" said the doctor a few seconds later, enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Have you met?" Quorra asked.

"Mark and I both went to college in LA," Sam grunted. "Of course, I could actually breathe back then."

"Sorry, man," said Mark, and released him. "I just...it's been so long! What are you doing with yourself?"

"I got a job at Encom." Sam moved his arm in a manner indicating strain or injury of his shoulder. "I went on a trip, came back with some perspective and Quorra here."

"That's good, that's good," nodded Mark. "So, Quorra, do you mind your boyfriend staying in here while I give you your checkup?

Sam said quickly. "She's just-"

"A girl," said Quorra.

"-A friend," said Sam.

Mark looked from Sam to Quorra and back again in a manner Quorra was unfamiliar with. His lips did something odd. "I see."

"Stop smirking, Mark. We're not dating or anything."

"Why not? She's a beautiful young lady."

Quorra's cheeks grew hot.

"Stop trying to set me up. I know you feel guilty about stealing my last serious relationship-"

"'Steal'?" Mark turned to Quorra. "Can you believe this guy? 'Steal', he says. She broke up with you, Flynn."

"Query;" interrupted Quorra. "Sam went to the California Institute of Technology, correct?"

"For a while, yeah."

"And you graduated from the University of Southern California. I'm guessing you were on the football team at some point."

"Yeah, I was a Trojan, and-how'd you know?"

"Your degree over there says where you graduated, and you favor your left knee slightly, in a manner matching several common football injuries, though similar damage can occur in soccer or basketball. Given your large size and strength, I'd say...halfback?"

"Fullback. I quit after I blew out the knee." He stared at her for a second. "This is a smart girl you have here, Sam. Why's she hanging out with you?"

"Ha ha. I need you to keep this off the books, Mark. Her legal status isn't exactly on the up-and-up. Some of her family were exposed to some unusual chemicals, so if anything strange shows up, keep it a secret. There are some people looking for her."

"I never told anyone about you and the pink silk panties, did I?"

"Sam, what women's undergarments is Mark talking about?"

Sam blinked, and looked at an anatomy model in the corner. "Um. A girlfriend made me buy them for her. Mark caught me leaving the store, and I, uh, made him promise not to tell anyone."

"Yes, that's exactly what happened." Mark was grinning now. Quorra decided not to call them on it; Sam would tell her if and when he was ready.

"To answer your question," she said, "I don't mind Sam being here. And the question I was going to ask was how you two met in the first place."

"We happened to go to the same bar, is all. Please take your clothes off."

Luckily, Sam had warned her about this, or she would be afraid Mark was trying something untoward.

Mark was charming, and nice, and wearing some kind of citrusy cologne, and she felt something in her gut as he weighed and measured her. It was a smaller echo of what she felt when she rode Sam's bike with him, and she had a reasonable idea what it meant. She made a note to investigate further. Perhaps Sam would want to go on some kind of "date".

As requested, she sat on the table. Mark put on an auditory enhancement device-stethoscope-and pressed it to her chest, above her bra. Sam sat up a little straighter.

"You have a strong heartbeat," Mark said, head cocked. "And your English is good too."

"Thank you" Quorra didn't tell him that she was, on her personal timescale, several hundred years older than he was. She decided to try something from Kevin Flynn's repertoire. "I had a good teacher, man."

Sam snorted. Both the doctor and the woman looked at him.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just that-well, you sounded a lot like my dad."

"Wherever he is," said Mark. "Resting pulse and blood pressure."

As the doctor leaned over her, Quorra caught sight of a curved arc of gold in his pocket. A wedding ring. Which meant, barring a somewhat unconventional marital arrangement, his "flirting" was just a way of teasing Sam.

Mark frowned. "Your pulse rate just dropped a little."

"Is that a problem?" Sam leaned forward.

"No..." Mark said dubiously. "At least, I don't think so."

"And you've been a doctor how long?"

"Longer than you've been a college graduate."

"Ouch."

Sam rubbed his neck, which had suddenly started to feel achy and tight. It kept on that way as Mark took Quorra's blood pressure, and spread down to the region around his collarbone.

And now something not unlike heartburn as his friend looked deep into Quorra's eyes, as he touched her-

Sam blinked.

He was jealous.

He was jealous of a married man being physically close to woman he wasn't even exactly dating not precisely. What was wrong with him?

You like her.

Sam turned the thought over in his head. It explained a lot.

"Sam?"

He looked up. Both of them were staring at him.

"Why is your head at that angle?"

"That's the look he always gets when he's thinking hard about something," Mark said. "You've never had blood taken before?"

"No. Does it hurt?"

Mark hesitated. "A little."

Quorra stared at the needle, and swallowed. Sam thought about the time she had her arm removed for his sake, of the time she risked death for him and his father, and marvelled at the fact the same young woman was afraid of a tiny tube of metal.

Then again, he jumped off of buildings, and he wasn't too fond of needles either.

Sam found himself on her left side, holding her hand in his own. Quorra gripped it tightly, and she leaned into him, closing her eyes, and felt his right arm grip her shoulder, and felt his solid presence, like a rock-

She barely felt the prick.

"It's nice to know Sam's settled down." Mark said conversationally. "Maybe when I want to make him the godfather of my next kid, I won't have to spend two days on the phone trying, and failing, to track him down. You still live in that apartment above that Chinese Food place?"

Quorra smiled. "Sam!" she said, in a mock-teasing voice. "You made Mark go through all that trouble?"

"I was getting ready for the tribute to my dad I do-did-every year. And it's a container now, and I have a dog and everything, and I happen to like Moo Shu Pork, okay?"

"He means he was getting ready to prank Encom," Mark corrected. "Guys a kabillionaire, and he's still living like a D-list actor." He pressed a round band-aid onto her arm. "All done."

"Gazillionaire," Sam retorted.

"Well, excuse me, princess."

The doctor pulled something from his pocket.

"Would you like a lollipop?" he said, with a smile.

"Thank you," said Quorra, accepting it from him. "What does it do?"

AN: That last bit a reference to a similar joke from Leverage, involving Parker and a plant. Just don't want anyone thinking its a ripoff.