Sam made her way down to the studio and stood there, watching the dark-haired woman seemingly going wild with the tempo, the sticks at times in her hands being nothing more than a blur. There was something very familiar about the drummer but the blonde just couldn’t put her finger on it. Letting her eyes slowly roam down the figure behind the kit, Sam started taking note of little things and putting them all together.

The blonde rapped against the soundproof glass that separated the two women, but Brooke never heard it. Between the music in her ears and the sound of the drum kit in the studio, the knocking was lost.

The twisting motion of the drummer caught Sam’s eye and she found herself zeroing in on the tattoo that adorned the small of Brooke’s back. Sam stood in awe of the raw fury and power that was being let go by the often times conservative C.E.O. here, where nobody else could witness it. The snapping of her head with the beat of the music made the ponytail go from being held in place to an example of how Brooke would look if she’d go with shorter hair. Why, if I didn’t know any better, Brooke almost looks like that photograph of Loran that I keep above my bed…Why I’d swear they could be…

Green eyes grew as big as saucers and Sam found herself pounding with both fists against the soundproof glass. What the hell does she thinks she’s doing, imitating Loran? “Brooke. Brooke,” she beat against the glass with both hands now, trying to get the drummer’s attention. “Damn it anyway. Aurgh!” Sam screamed at the top of her lungs as she reached for the doorknob and flung open the door into the soundproof room.

The determined blonde strode into the room and took up a position directly in front of the kit, standing with her hands on her hips, her green eyes glaring at the absorbed drummer. The seconds seemed to turn into minutes as she waited for Brooke to realize that she was no longer alone.

Brooke had just finished the long routine of fancy stick work when she opened her eyes, lessening her degree of concentration on the music. As if by some magic power, her eyes fell directly on blonde hair and intense green eyes. The tired, sweaty woman couldn’t hold her excitement in as a broad smile swept across her face when she stopped playing, pulling the earphones off her head.

“Hi Baby. How long have you been there?”

Sam inhaled loudly, then put her hand on the drumsticks to silence any further activity. “Long enough,” Sam’s eyes were filled with anger.

“What?” Brooke didn’t know what to make of this new side of Sam that she was seeing, but she knew that she wasn’t going to like it. Shit, I think she finally put two and two together, she thought before the drummer heard her name called out.

“Brooke…” Sam’s voice was direct and unwavering. “I don’t know what kind of game it is that you’re playing here, but acting like Loran isn’t what I’m looking for.”

Blue eyes flashed at the direction the conversation was going, “Whoa!” Brooke held up her hands in front of her in a halting motion, “What do you mean, acting like Loran? Elaborate, please.”

“Come on, I see what you’re doing.” Sam tapped her right foot now trying to keep her anger in check, “The pulled back hair that just happens to make it look short when you throw your head around, the fancy drum work,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “even that tattoo on your back. If you’re doing it for me, you can cut the crap out right now.”

“Damn it, Sam.” Blue eyes searched Sam’s face for the tiniest sign of love. “I’ve been playing drums longer than I’ve known you and I’ve had that tattoo since I was seventeen.” Brooke bent over and picked up the towel that was lying on the floor next to her stool, “As for the hair,” she wiped her neck, “it’s hot as hell in here after playing a set like I just did.”

The blonde rolled her eyes in disbelief. Go ahead, deny it Brooke. You’re imitating her just to get to me. “Aurgh!” Sam shook her head, “I can’t believe that you would think I’m so childish my heart would only go out to someone like that.”

“What?” Dark eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “I don’t think that. What are you talking about?” Brooke now stood up behind the drum kit.

“You know,” green eyes glared and the blonde’s jaw clenched tighter. “You are a much better person than she ever was…is…ugh, whatever.”

“Who?” Brooke wiped her arms with the towel and tossed it aside, “Whom are you talking about?”

“Loran, damn it.” Sam cocked her head to one side and continued in a pleading tone. “Aren’t you listening to me? I love you, not her.”

Hearing the words, Brooke shook her head, finally realizing what Sam was talking about. “Oh God, Sam.” She took in a breath and let it out slowly before asking, “Baby, what brought this on?”

“C.C.?” Brooke’s eyes roamed aimlessly for an answer.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “She said that you doubted my love and I… I just couldn’t let you think…”

Brooke closed her eyes against the pain and mumbled what her mind was thinking, “Fucking big mouth.”

“Is something wrong, Brooke?” Sam asked, still unsure of her feelings at the moment. “Did I misunderstand her somehow?”

“Baby, I never doubted that you loved me. I…” Brooke took out the fastener holding her ponytail in place, then ran her hand through her hair. “Damn it, I didn’t want to do it like this.”

Sam stepped back just slightly, “You’re scaring me, Brooke…”

“Baby, I know you love me,” blue eyes searched Sam’s face as she presented her case, “And I love you more than anything on God’s green earth…”

“But what…” Sam held her breath, “I know there’s always a but in there.”

The tall woman nodded, “But I wanted you to love me because you love me and not who I was…am…” Brooke’s voice trailed off to a whisper, then she shrugged, “whatever.”

“Brooke, I love you for who you are…now,” Sam took a step in the woman’s direction, her hand reaching out to comfort her.

“Even if I tell you?”

“Tell me what, Brooke Gordon?” Sam whispered.

Blowing out a long breath, the dark-haired woman mustered the courage to see her task through. “You might want to add my middle name to that Sam.”

“So… what is it? Tell me.”

Brooke locked onto Sam’s eyes, hoping for the best. “Loran,” she said slightly louder than a whisper. “Brooke Loran Gordon. I’m not acting like Loran, Sam. I am Brooke Loran.” The tall woman closed her eyes and waited.

Dazed, Sam absent-mindedly began to repeat the woman’s name, “Brooke Loran Gor…” the realization finally was setting in, “NO!”

The sound of the agonized denial caused the once confident woman to hang her head, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. Her past was haunting her again, worse than ever before. She moved over to the window in the studio and looked at the pictures of her past life on the walls in the hallway.

Sam watched, as the agony was evident in Brooke’s posture. “How could you be…” the young woman looked over at the photographs of Loran then back at the woman in front of her. “That’s not you.”

“Yes, Sam,” the tall woman nodded. “Those pictures are of me. That’s who I was… the mysterious Brooke Loran; drummer for Anti-Zero.” Brooke turned toward Sam and took an abbreviated bow. “Hell, you can check my driver’s license if you don’t believe me. It’s in my wallet on the soundboard,” she pointed to the console in the control room.

Torn by mixed emotions, Sam proceeded toward the console then reached for the wallet. As her fingers touched the worn leather, she stopped and looked over at its owner. Deciding not to look, Sam confronted the woman. “Why, Brooke? Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

Brooke’s shoulders slumped further as she hung her head, unable to look Sam in the eye. God, I’ve lost her for sure.

“Why, Brooke?”

“Because, I wanted to make sure that you wanted me…” Brooke swallowed hard as she shut her eyes in pain, “…not her.”

The blonde was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to hear what Brooke was saying. “Or did you…” she gasped, then finished her mutterings, “and I just wasn’t listening?”

“Baby, I tried. I almost told you…several times,” the older woman offered. “I think I tried everything but actually coming out and telling you.”

“I remember now.” Sam looked over at Brooke, “That game of hangman…it wasn’t Lover; it was Loran.” Green eyes glowed in realization. “I can’t believe I didn’t get that…”

Brooke’s head hung so low now that she thought she’d need to move her chest to speak, “Singing in the car; the studio,” the drummer sighed. “Hell, my e-mail addy; the tattoo…I was fighting with myself that night over telling you.” She smirked, “I was playing hangman with myself over ‘Loran.’ I didn’t want to lose you if you knew and I didn’t want to lose you if you didn’t know.”

“Maybe I was blinded by you… and I just didn’t want to hear it.” Sam looked up at Brooke, “Maybe it’s good that I didn’t know because, personally, I would have voted not to let Loran into my life, after having met you.”

The sulking woman quickly looked up at Sam, “What?”

“It was just a childish idea anyway, thinking that I could have someone like that…”

“Like what?” Brooke needed to know.

“Don’t patronize me,” Sam leveled a stare at Brooke. “I’m not in the mood. First you imitate her, and then you tell me you are her. What’s next?” The small woman threw up her hands to stop any idea of Brooke touching her. “NO, don’t even try,” then she bolted for the door.

“Damn it, Sam. I’m not imitating anybody. I am Loran… ask anybody who knows me…anybody that really knows me.” She watched as the young woman ran up the stairs and possibly out of her life, feeling compelled to chase her, “SAM!”