Hello, everybody. I'm real glad that you guys still want to read my fics even though they are badly infested with typos and horrible tenses and grammars. Obviously, English is not my first language, hence the annoying mistakes, I know. Sorry for that. I lost a beta reader quite a while ago, and now I fully rely on the readers to point out the errors that I've made. Thank you very much for being good teachers, and I appreciate the guidance and tips you've given me. Writing fanfics is part of my learning process, and I will keep on writing to improve my craft.

Okay, now on to the story. Another Sam-centric this time, with maybe some Sam-whumps (Maybe? What am I talking about? It's definitely a Sam-whump! LOL!). However, I need to warn you all beforehand. This fic deals with one particular issue that is still controversial in most countries, including mine. I don't want to spoil anything much, so go on and find out. If it's not to your liking, just stop reading and wait for my other simpler fics.

Happy reading!

I hope. ;)

Summary : Someone from Sam's past suddenly appears, only to disclose a well-kept secret that might cost him his very life.

"It's not mine!" The skinny and scruffy looking man kept shrieking as they dragged him out of the convenience store, which he had attempted to rob just minutes earlier. "You gotta believe me, dude!"

"Dude, seriously? The gun is not yours?" Sam halfheartedly asked, tightening his grip on the subject's arms which were cuffed at the wrists behind his back.

"It's not mine, I swear it!"

Flanking the subject's other side, Spike chuckled. "Then how come you were holding it when we burst in just now?"

The subject shrugged. He gave the two SRU officers a glazed look between half-lidded eyes. "I don't know, dude. I think I blacked out. I can't tell you how the gun got there. I just dropped in to buy me some smokes and then suddenly everyone was yelling and my face was shoved to the floor and you guys were frisking me and—"

"Yeah, yeah, we hear you. Buddy, you're too stoned to even remember your own name," said Spike, already tired of listening to the man's aggravating whining. He pulled open the back door of a waiting patrol car. "Now get in."

"But the gun is not mine!" The subject shoved one foot against the side of the car, fighting will all his worth—or rather, worthless—not to be taken into custody.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. Muttering under his breath, he placed two fingertips against the subject's neck and pressed hard. The subject yelled in anguish and dropped to the ground, squirming like a fish out of water.

"This is police brutality!" he screamed. "I'm gonna sue!"

Grabbing the man's arms and legs, the two SRU officers lifted him off the ground and dumped him into the back seat.

"I'm gonna sue, you hear me?" The subject still wouldn't desist yelling and screaming, and that started to grate on Sam's nerves.

"Fine! Whatever," he snapped back. "And you will be charged with armed robbery—"

"But it's just a water gun!"

Spike gave the man a droll look. "So you admit, you used a water gun to rob the store?"

The subject blinked. "What? You mean I should have used a real gun?"

"Aw, shut up," Sam growled, slamming the door closed.

Spike chuckled as they watched the patrol car drive away with the perp. "Hey, boss. Did you catch all that?"

"Loud and clear." Sergeant Parker's voice sounded amused in their headsets. "Good job, guys. One more scumbag off the streets."

"One pathetic moronic scumbag you mean," said Sam, still feeling highly annoyed. "A water gun? I could have shot him in the head, the idiot!"

"But you didn't, Sam," the Sergeant reassured him. "Good call, good takedown, both of you. The patrol is over, so let's all head back to the Barn."

"Copy that," they replied, echoed by the rest of Team One who did their patrol several blocks over.

"Unbelievable. I could have killed that guy for waving a water gun. What a dumbass," Sam groused as he and Spike walked towards their SUV which was parked at the curb in front of the beauty parlor next door.

Laughing, Spike patted his teammate in the back. "I know the feeling, buddy. Don't worry about it. Now how about if we make a brief stop so that we can get you some ice-cream to cool you down, huh?"

Sam grinned back. "Baskin-Robbins?"

"How about Magnum?"

"My kind of brand, just like my favorite gun. You're buying?"

"Yep, you're paying."

"With your cash, you mean."

Before Spike could respond to that, someone suddenly called out, "Hey, Braddock!"

In the act of opening the car door, Sam whirled around to search for the source of the voice. He came to a standstill when he saw a tall muscular red-haired man stood smiling at him from ten yards away.

"Big-T!" Pleasantly surprised, Sam's face broke into grins as he went over to embrace him. The man Sam had called Big-T hugged him in return, almost crushing the slighter man in his massive arms.

Sam laughed. "Hey, ease up, big guy. My ribs are not as strong as they used to."

Also laughing, the man released him. "Let me look at you, Sam. My, my. Aren't you dashing in that uniform. You always look good in black. What a sight for sore eyes."

"And you," Sam said, giving the man's six-foot-three frame a quick once-over, "look bigger than ever. What have you been feeding yourself, man? Steroids?"

"Just pure red meat and lots and lots of egg yoghurt every morning."

Sam made a face. "Egg yoghurt? After all these years, you're still eating that crap?"

"It's good. You need to try it."

"No, thanks. I've tried it before and couldn't stop barfing for a week!" Smiling, Sam said, "It's real good to see you again, T."

"Same here, Braddock."

"So, when did you get back? You're between tours, or are you home for good?"

"For good. I've been back for over two months now. My Dad died."

Sam turned sober. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," Big-T responded, didn't seem all that sad. "He and I didn't really get along, but the bastard left his bar to me in his will. I'm a businessman now, can you believe it?"

"You, running a bar?" Sam couldn't help but chuckle. "You're gonna drink your own business dry."

"Hopefully not because the bar hasn't even reopen yet, not until next week," said Big-T with a loud guffaw. "Hey, how about we get together, have a drink and talk about old times?"

"Yeah, sure. I'd love that."

"Is tonight okay? If you're not on shift, I mean."

"I think I can make it. I'll be off duty in another couple hours."

"Great. We can meet up at my bar. Here's the address." Big-T gave Sam his calling card. "It's just at the end of the block. I saw the ruckus here and came to check what's going on. Didn't imagine that I would stumble into you."

"Me neither." Sam was shaking his head. His voice was quiet when he asked next, "Big-T, where have you been all this while? Why didn't you ever contact me?"

"Later. I'll tell you everything." Big-T patted Sam on the shoulder. He looked up and noticed the other SRU officer who stood watching their reunion with avid interest. "Sam, aren't you going to introduce me to your colleague over there?"

"Oh, right! Sorry." Beckoning his teammate over, Sam made the introductions. "Spike, this is Tim McCarthy. He's from my old unit when I was in Kandahar. We all call him Big-T. It's plain obvious why."

"It sure does," replied Spike, warily eyeing the other man's massive build as they shook hands. "Michaelangelo Scarlatti. Spike for short."

Big-T nodded approvingly. "The nickname suits you."

"Your nickname suits you. It's nice meeting you, sir."

"Likewise, Spike." Turning back to Sam, Big-T said, "Okay. Don't forget about tonight."

"I won't," said Sam, giving his friend another hug.

He and Spike then returned to their vehicle. As he started the engine, Sam noticed the telling look that Spike was aiming at him. "What?"

"Big-T?"

"Well, you saw his size." Sam grinned, steering the SUV off the curb and into the lane. "I remember someone calling him Little Timmy, but it didn't stick. Heck, even the man who called him that mysteriously didn't stick around for long."

"So, he's an old army buddy of yours?"

"Yeah. I met him when I started my first tour in Afghanistan. I was this newbie and he was this two-year vet. Instead of hazing me like everybody else, he showed me the rope and taught me everything about sands and hajis and all that jazz. Most often than not, he became my spotter whenever I had to make a long-distance shot."

"He looks like an interesting guy."

"You have no idea." Sam laughed out loud.

"How long have you not seen each other?"

"Almost ten years. I don't know what exactly happened, but before my first tour ended, Big-T suddenly moved out of base. They said he had been transferred."

"Transferred all of a sudden? Is that common in the military?"

"It's not really common, but it happens." Sam was frowning. "I never found out the actual reason. From the rumors I heard, Big-T was re-stationed in Sudan, under the UNMIS."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "SAFARI?"

Sam nodded. "That's what I heard. Different soil, but nearly similar hell."

"Haven't you tried to contact him?"

"I did try, but he never contacted me back." Sam looked thoughtful for a few moments before he added, "I missed him, you know. Besides Matt, he used to be my closest mate. I owe Big-T a lot, and not just for guiding me and everything. He's a real protector. He saved my life, twice."

"How that happened?"

"Once, he yanked me out of the path of a crumbling wall of an ancient building in Kabul. I would have been crushed to death under the rubble if not for him. The second time, he carried me on his back for three kilometers across the hot desert sand to get me to safety after I got shot."

Spike eyes widened in surprised. "You've been shot before? I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I've been shot before in the field."

"But I've never seen any bullet scar on you."

Sam squirmed. "That's because I was hit in a certain part of my body you rarely see."

Blinking, Spike gave his friend a cursory gaze before he broke into grins. "Man, you got hit in your ass?"

Sam's face reddened. "Spike…"

"Seriously, in your ass? Holy shit!"

Rolling his eyes at his friend's whooping laughter, Sam explained, "Hey, it still hurt, alright? And it bled like freaking faucet. Anyway, I didn't exactly get hit in the ass. It was my left hip, just a few inches above the cheek—"

"The technical term is still ass, you dummy."

"It is not. It wasn't in the ass. It was...Wait a second. Why the heck are we arguing about my ass anyway?"

"You started it!"

"No, you did. Now stop mentioning my ass!"

But Spike was enjoying it too much to easily drop the matter. "I bet Jules has seen it."

"Yeah, Spike. I've seen it," Jules' clear voice suddenly blared in their headset. "And it's not that impressive."

Only then Sam realized that the entire Team One was still connected to one another via the com link. He gasped out loud, which only caused Spike to sputter into laughter all over again. In the background, Sam thought he could hear the muffled sniggers from Ed and Parker and Leah.

His face reddening, Sam tentatively said, "Um, Jules? Honey?"

"Yes, Sammy dear?"

"I'm gonna turn my radio off now." And he did exactly that.

After a full minute, when Spike still couldn't stop laughing, Sam reached over and smacked him in the arm. "Stop it!"

Grinning, Spike grabbed his aching ribs. "Not impressive, huh? I wonder what she exactly meant. The bullet scar or…"

"Don't even go there, Scarlatti. Shut up or I will shove you out of this moving vehicle."

Spike quickly raised his arms in surrender. "Okay, buddy. No more jokes about your ass. I swear."

"Good," Sam growled, albeit sulkily. "You know, you owe me two ice-creams for this."

"Heck, for getting shot in the ass, you deserve a truck-load of ice-creams!"

Sam groaned out loud amidst Spike's booming laughter.

Great. I will never hear the end of this.

By the time Team One's shift ended several hours afterwards, the day had already turned dark. As everyone else got ready to head for home, Sam and Jules stood outside the locker room, talking.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Sam asked her for the umpteenth time.

She reached up and patted his jaw. "I'm sure, sweetheart. No problem. Go and have drinks with your long-lost friend. I'll be fine. I plan to take a bubble bath, have a glass of wine, read a paperback novel…"

Sam gave her a lascivious smile. "Or maybe I should drive you home first, join you in the bubble bath, and then go meet my friend."

"No way, cowboy. I don't share my bubble bath with anyone. Look, I can catch a ride with Spike. Don't worry a thing, okay? Just go and have fun."

"Thanks. I'll be back before eleven."

"Take all the time you need. But remember, we have early shift tomorrow, so try not to get drunk."

Sam chuckled. "I won't, but Big-T might. He's a real drinker."

Shaking her head with a smile, Jules hugged him and whispered in his ear, "For the record, I really like your impressive ass!"

Sam felt his cheeks burned. "How long am I going to hear this joke?"

"Um…forever?"

Laughing, she released him and went to join Spike at Winnie's station. Sending them all a jaunty wave, Sam then headed out towards the parking lot. Within minutes, he was on the road.

A short time later, thanks to light traffic, he reached the address that Big-T had given him. After parking his car in the alley next to the building, Sam approached the door and knocked on the glass panel. Big-T himself answered it and let him in.

"I'm glad you made it," said the big man, closing the door. "How was work?"

"Great. We take scumbags off the street, negotiate with hostage takers. Never a dull moment being an SRU officer."

"But not as exciting as being a military sniper, right?"

"I left the field a long time ago, Big-T. This is my life now."

Big-T nodded his understanding. "Here, let me take your jacket."

"Sure, thanks." As his friend helped him with his jacket, Sam looked around him and whistled. "Wow. This is a nice watering hole. I've never been here before. You father left you all this?"

Big-T returned after hanging Sam's jacket on a coat stand behind the door. "Yep. All the booze, the stools, the tables, the polished teak bar…and a long list of creditors asking for overdue payments."

Sam winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah, don't I know it. But I can handle it fine. It gives me something to do, keeps me busy. I'll be a lot busier next week when we reopen," the other man explained. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Over the next half hour, Big-T gave Sam a guided tour of his premise. Their conversation then meandered towards the latest news of other comrades or previous commanding officers, until they ended up in the manager's office where the bar owner quickly ushered his guest into a seat on a leather couch.

"Is scotch okay?" asked Big-T as he went to the minibar.

Sam shrugged. "It's fine."

After retrieving two shot glasses, Big-T lifted a decanter and poured a finger each. He passed a glass of single malt scotch to Sam before sitting next to him on the couch.

"To friendship," the both chorused and bumped their glasses together before gulping the drink down.

Sam's eyes watered from the nasty taste of the liquor. It had been a while since he had last taken whisky. To get over the burning effect, he immediately struck up a conversation, "So, how have you been, T? I haven't heard from you for a long time."

Putting down his empty glass on the table in front of them, Big-T replied, "I've been here and there, soldiering and serving my country. How about you? When did you leave the field?"

"Over five years ago, after…after Matt died in a friendly fire." Sam's voice was grim when saying this. As Big-T sat quietly, Sam gave him the details about how he had shot dead his own best friend from two kilometers away.

"It was unbearable. The guilt, the pain, the loss. I thought I would go crazy," said Sam at the end of it, and leaned backwards to rest his head against the back of the couch.

"I can understand that, Sammy. That must be hard for you. I remember, you were real tight with him." The other man nodded, giving Sam's knee consoling pats.

"Sure, it was hard. But I got through it, slowly, one day at a time. When I first joined SRU, I was a big mess. But my team was great to me, still does. They pulled me from the brink and I started to feel whole again. If not for them, I…I wouldn't even be here. Could have been dumped inside a city morgue somewhere, dying a wasted death."

"You're not that kind of man, Sam. "

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know you. You don't give up so easily. For a small man, you have a big strong will."

Sam broke into laughter. "To you, everyone is small, big guy."

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." Sam reluctantly agreed. "Okay, I'm asking you again, why haven't you contacted me?"

Big-T looked down at his feet for a moment. "I had my reasons."

Sam rolled his head against the leather headrest to look intently at him. "What do you mean? What really happened, T? Can't you tell me?"

"It's better that you don't know."

"Why is that?" Sam frowned. "Did it have anything to do with me? Did I screw up something? Shit, it's about our last assignment together, right? I screwed that one up big time, and as my spotter you took the blame."

"No, no, it's not that."

"So then what? Talk to me, T."

Sighing, Big-T leaned back. "Truly, none of it was your fault."

"Sure, but then why did you leave all of a sudden without even saying goodbyes and stay the hell away? Damn it, T, I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, buddy," the other man softly said, turning his head to absorb Sam's agonized gaze. In that space of a second, something flashed in his friend's eyes. Sam didn't quite understand what it meant until Big-T leaned forward and kissed him in the lips.

For a full heartbeat, Sam could only sit as still as a statue, so stunned that he was. And then he pulled backward and stared in bewilderment. "T?"

Big-T emitted a sad smile. "You have no idea, haven't you?"

"What are you saying?" Sam was still staring, having troubles to believe what just occurred.

"That I love you."

Sam blinked, speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find the right words to say.

Big-T gazed at Sam some more, and then just leapt bodily on top of him, crushing their lips together. Sam instinctively reacted, shoving and jabbing as he struggled to get out from under the man's weight. He could smell the booze on Big-T's breath, realizing that his friend was already deep in his cups even before Sam had arrived.

Kicking hard, Sam managed to throw the heavier man off him and propelled himself to his feet. "T! What the fuck?"

Licking his lips, Big-T also stood. "I'm not sorry that I kissed you, Sam. I'm just sorry that you had to find out this way. I should have told you before. I'm in love with you."

Keeping the low table between them, Sam panted for breath as he eyed the other man warily. "Big-T, you don't know what you're saying."

"I'm in love with you, god damn it!" Big-T shouted, "I've loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you."

Raising his arms in a placating manner, Sam attempted to speak some reasons into his friend. "Look, I appreciate the feelings. I love you too, but not in the same way you feel for me. You're my friend, T. It can't be more than that."

"What I feel for you is a lot stronger, Sam. When I saw you today, after all these years, I realized I never got over you. I want you to know it."

"T, I understand."

"Do you, really?"

"Yes, I do."

"So, can't we just sit back down and talk more about it?"

"Big-T, listen. This can't go any further than you wish it to be, okay? I have someone in my life, and she's very important to me. Besides, I don't go both ways. I want you to respect that."

"I've been keeping my feelings for you for so long, Sam," Big-T implored and rounded the table, causing Sam to quickly back away. "What, I disgust you, now you know that I'm gay?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't have problems with you being gay, T! It's you pouncing on me that I don't agree with."

Sam was speaking the exact truth. It was not Big-T's sexual tendencies which bothered him at all. In fact, during his tours in the field, Sam had known several men in the base who were gays. Homosexuality was seriously frowned upon in the military, but the guys managed to keep it tightly concealed between them. Due to Sam's head-turning good looks, they had even made some passes at him, but then good-naturedly backed away when Sam had told them he was more of a ladies-man.

Only he had no idea that Big-T had been secretly routing for him too.

"Yeah," Big-T was saying. "It was me pouncing on you which caused us both to be separated in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember our last assignment, the one where you shot that kid?"

Sam nodded, knowing which assignment Big-T was talking about. Well, how could he forget? Apart from shooting Matt, that was the shot that he wished he could take back.

"No one blames you for killing that kid, Sam. He was carrying Semtex wrapped around his body and was about to blow up a convoy of NATOs."

Sam didn't fully agree. "The boy was only eight. I didn't need to shoot him in the head. I should just maim him, not shoot him dead."

"You had no choice, Sam. It's either him or twenty other lives. You did the right thing," Big-T said. "But you were so overwrought later that night that you drank the entire bottle of my best Laphroaig. You got stone-cold drunk, remember that?"

"No, but I remember the dreadful hangover I had the next day." Sam shrugged. "Where are you going with this?"

"You passed out, shivering in your own cold sweat. I stripped you down and tucked you into bed," Big-T continued. "I watched you sleep. You looked so vulnerable, that I couldn't help myself. I climbed into bed with you."

Sam gaped, his face turning pale. "What?"

"That was when Matt walked in. Your best buddy saw me kissing you, and he went completely berserk."

"Matt?" Sam took another step back. "Matt knew?"

"Of course, he knew!" Big-T shouted. "He punched me square in the face and then we fought like crazy, but you were so out of it to even notice it. Despite himself, Matt was able to kick me out and made me swear to stay away from you. Things didn't end there, however. The very next day, I received my twenty-four hour notice to leave for Darfur. Matt had gotten a word to General Braddock somehow, and your Dad wasted no time in pulling every string he had to speed up my transfer."

Sam felt himself reeling. His own father also had a hand in this?

His head shaking, Sam muttered, "No one ever told me about any of this. Not Matt, not my Dad."

"I can't blame them. They were just looking out for you. I would do the same too. It was my own fault that we were torn apart."

For a while, Sam seemed to be at a lost. He stared at his friend, his face a mixture of disbelief and hurt. "You…you took advantage of me while I was out, while I was unable to defend myself?"

"That's my only regret, Sam. I admit, I should have handled everything with more finesse. I was being too forward."

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He scoffed without humor and shook his head again. "Um…this is overwhelming. I need some space to think."

"Sam, let's talk on this."

"We already talked, T! I have nothing more to say."

"But, Sam…"

"I think I should go," Sam said, turning to leave.

"No, don't go!" Big-T made a grab for Sam, but Sam angrily shook him off and almost ran towards the door.

Without thinking, Big-T grabbed the decanter full of scotch from the mini bar and slammed it against the back of Sam's head. Sam dropped hard onto floor with a grunt, his world exploded in pain.

"You cannot leave until I say so!" Big-T was screaming down at him. "You must listen to what I have to say, you hear me?"

Dazed and hurt, Sam could do nothing but stared back uncomprehendingly at the man he always called friend. "T…?"

And then everything just faded into nothingness.

TBC...

Ooookay. Stop now, or should I continue and give Sam more angst?

Maybe I'll come back next year. Ha ha ha...