Jules woke to Sam slipping out of bed. He'd done it a lot as of late, and she wasn't really sure why. It never affected his performance at work, but he was pulling away from her, keeping things in that he refused to share with her. He would deflect the questions, get angry with them. Never at her, but the questions seemed to make him unsure, adrift in his own mind. She'd stopped pushing weeks ago, but she hadn't stopped wondering.

She found him gazing blankly out their front window, not registering anything going on around him. She knew to approach carefully, even untethered like he was, his instinct was still to protect himself. "Sam?"

His shoulders stiffened, but he didn't respond to her.

She placed a warm hand on his shoulder. She was surprised when it stiffened under her hand, instead of relaxed. She rubbed across the back of his shoulders gently, the warmth comforting in the cool night. Even though it was summer, it was still cool at night.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Won't happen again." His voice was flat.

"Sam?" She knew what it meant when his voice went flat and emotionless. Something was bothering him and he was shutting down. She pressed on when he didn't answer. "Sam, please, just talk to me. I can help. We can work through it. But you have to let me in." She was pulling out her negotiator's voice, the buzz words.

He didn't respond, and she sensed him pulling away again, from this world to a different one.

"Fine. You wanna be left alone? So be it. It's the middle of the night in a godawful hot summer and it's three hours before we're supposed to be at workout. So goodnight, Sam." Her anger is manufactured, the only thing she wants to do is embrace him and tether him here. She begins to walk out of the room, her steps hesitant, but resolute.

His response makes her stop in her tracks. "My mind is a dark place. I'm afraid to let you in, because it might drown you too."

"It can't get lighter without something shining its way through."

Sam's composure drops there, and he's holding her, clutching her desperately as his thoughts threaten to drown him. Tomorrow was the day, the day he'd killed his best friend, his brother in everything but blood. If he hadn't had work, he would've been rip-roaring drunk in his apartment, staring down the barrel of his Colt, begging Matt to just let him go, stop keeping him here and join him.

Tonight, it wasn't just work keeping him together. It was her. It was Jules, her strength, her everything keeping him together. He just wished he was strong enough to tell her.

He hadn't realized she had led him over to the couch, and he held her for a moment, drawing from her quiet strength.

"Please, Sam. Tell me why."

"Where do I even start. It's not pretty, it's...I don't even know how to describe it."

She looked at him, forced his eyes to meet hers. The depth of the pain and the emotional turmoil she found there almost made her stop in her tracks. But she had to keep going. "Start with tonight."

Sam began, and his words came in fits and starts. "I...I keep taking that shot, and every time, it's someone different. Sara, Matt, my mother, the General...the team."

Jules knows what shot. The one he wished he'd missed. "I...I can't stop seeing them. His eyes. They were the most amazing color of green. Deep green, but he was such a jokester. There was always a joke around the next corner."

"Sounds like someone we know."

Sam nodded. That's why he was hesitant to get close. He got people killed. Good people. "It was July. I'd been cleared to fire. I followed the order. It was July 15th. He was barely 25."

His words choked him. He stopped, his breathing speeding up. "Every year...every year I look at that colt, and I wonder. I wonder if it's the year I'll finally hear his voice saying it's alright to let go. But every year, every goddamn year, he doesn't let me go. He makes me keep living, to find the beauty in life, live in the light, and not drown in the darkness. Every year, and it hurts so bad. So much. But I do. Because I promised him." His tears make hot tracks down his face, shame filling him. Men don't cry.

Braddocks don't cry.

Jules wipes each one reverently, holding him closely. She can't let him shoulder this alone. She whispers in his ear, not that he's listening to his surroundings right now, and untangles her from him. She retrieves a glass of water, and sends a text. There was no way he could work like this, not with this immense guilt weighing him down.

"Sam." He startles under her touch. He'd been so lost in the memories, the grief, but also the good times, the jokes and the fun they'd had. "C'mon, let's go to bed. It's early." He allows himself to be led to their bed, and curls himself under the blankets.

Jules decides she will tell him tomorrow, when it's less raw, that they're not working, either of them, and she is determined to make July 15th a better day for him. She wouldn't dream of replacing the memory, but if she can reduce the pain, even by a little, then she would.

For now, she would soothe him, let him sleep more, and just be there for him.