Title: Up Down Beep Breath
Author: Dragonflies Girl aka Ki Ki
Disclaimers: They are not mine. Just borrowing them out to play. Will return them unharm soon as possible. Swear.
Spoiler: everything up to what has been seen from future Episode called Fight or Flight now (not sure about when it'll be aired because there's some shoveling around the episode, apparently)
A/N at the end.
--
Her chest rose up.
Her chest came down.
The machine beeped.
He breathed.
Rose up.
Came down.
Another beep.
Another breath.
Up.
Down.
Beep – "Sam."
A hand on his shoulder.
Up.
Down.
Beep.
Breath.
"Sam, listen to me," Sarge.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not fine. Not when you're not eating and drinking and sleeping."
"I'm fine."
"Sam."
"I need to stay here. I need – " he tried, but the words couldn't get past the lump in his throat. "I need to stay here."
"You need to rest. You aren't doing Jules any good like this. Trust me, Sam, she is going to kick your ass when she wakes up and finds you doing this to yourself. Then she's going to kick the rest of ours for letting you stay this way."
"I'll take the ass kicking."
"You need to take care of yourself. You haven't had anything since that crazy call came in the afternoon, and I'll bet my badge that you haven't taken the time to eat or shower or take a nap after the interview before coming here."
"I'm fine."
"You are not listening to me, Sam. You are not."
"I don't want her to wake up alone."
"The doctors have given her some pretty heavy sedative. She's likely to sleep through the night."
A shake of his head, "I'll stay."
"Wordy and Spike have already gone home. Ed has taken off too. The doctors will call if there are any changes."
"I'm fine here," he was stubborn.
"Sam."
"I need to be here," his words were soft, almost broken. "You know why."
A sigh from the sergeant. A squeeze on his shoulder.
Door opened.
Door closed.
Chest rose up.
Chest came down.
The machine beeped.
He breathed.
A tear dropped. Then another.
"Guess I'm not doing too well here, huh?" he whispered, bringing her hand up closer to his lips and placed a kiss on her soft skin. "In one day I just outed us to the Sarge and the whole team. You need to wake up soon, Jules, because I think I am going insane here."
A knock on the door. A nurse walked in.
"She's doing fine," she said. He could hear the sympathy in her voice.
He nodded, "She's tough."
"Yes sir, she is. It was a close call, but she is hanging on tight."
"Thank you," he whispered, grateful for every bit of reassurance.
"I'll have someone bring in a cot for you," the young woman offered.
"Thanks," he repeated.
Her chest rose up.
Her chest came down.
The machine beeped.
He breathed.
"You'll be fine, Jules, did you hear that? You'll be fine," he whispered, not really sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her any longer.
The cot was brought in. He let the orderlies set it up at the other side of the bed.
It wasn't like he was going to sleep in it anyway, but if it placate the staff and Sarge, then he would let it be in there.
"We got the guy, Jules. We got him," he went on. "I got him. I killed him. He had Ed, and so I killed him. I probably would have even if he didn't have Ed."
He probably would have.
He used to keep a count on how many people he had killed, but it had gotten too much. He didn't need the numbers to have a weigh on his conscience.
When he quit the military and joined the SRU, he promised he would not take satisfaction in taking a shot at anyone ever again. Granted, he still believed sometimes a solution is the only solution, but this was different.
At war, it was your enemy or your comrade. You had no choice. It was basic survival
At home, there was always a choice. There was always the less lethal. There was always something else to be done.
Killing was no longer a must.
Except for this time.
He hurt Jules. Of all the people around, he had targeted Jules, the one woman Sam Braddock had felt more than he thought possible for in the shortest span of time.
Her chest rose up.
Her chest came down.
The machine beeped.
He breathed.
If he were corny, he would say this was fate, his destiny, that she was his match in this world, his soul mate, his one in a million.
But he wasn't corny like that, and so he would just not label whatever they had.
It didn't mean he felt any less protective of the woman now fighting for her life.
He knew what happened on that roof would haunt him for a long time, just like when she was dangling over the mall with Tasha, just like when Penny had a gun to her stomach, just like when she was standing beside a woman with a necklace bomb set to explode without a protective suit on. He would stay in that place for a long time and his nightmare would haunt him along with the ghosts of his friends.
He should have protected her. He knew something was wrong. Instinct had told him the shot would come from behind, and he had turned, his shield ready to protect himself.
But he had left her open. Left her open and vulnerable.
And the pop of the rifle would stay with him forever. He wouldn't be able to forget that.
Nor would he forget the feel of his hand on her wound, feeling the blood leaking out from between his fingers as he tried to shield her from the bullets coming at them like rain.
"I should have protected you," he whispered again. The one thought that came round and round in his head.
I should have protected her. I should have protected her. I should have protected her.
It didn't matter that he knew she was darn good at her job. It didn't matter that she would probably protest to his proclamation and need to protect her. It really didn't matter.
Because if one small decision could erase what had happened on that roof, if his obsession to protect her would reverse their roles and didn't leave her lying on this hospital bed fighting for her life, he would gladly endure her fury.
He just needed her to wake up and be well.
"You need to wake up, Jules, because you still need to teach me all about Santorini Sky and the other million of blues you have picked out for your house. I still owe you that thinner and the romantic evening, remember?"
He paused, looking down to her hand still held tightly in his. No matter how hard he tried, how tired he was, he couldn't make himself let go of her hand. It felt as though it was one of the only connection he had with her.
Up.
Down.
Beep.
Breath.
And as his thumb caressed her soft skin, he could see her, the soft, feminine skin that looked so fragile but at the same time could accomplish so much. It was soft and small, but it was also strong and capable. Her delicate fingers, long and deft. He could still feel it in his hair as they were kissing or when she held onto his hand when they had dinner.
Bending down, he brushed away her bangs and placed a kiss on her forehead.
"I think I love you, Jules. I really think so, but I don't know. I don't know, and I won't until I can look you in the eyes and say it to you when you know what I am saying. I don't know, but I think I do love you, Jules. Sweetheart, please, just open those eyes? Please?"
He sat there and waited, for her to open her eyes.
Her chest rose up.
Her chest came down.
The machine beeped.
He breathed.
--
So, here it is. A little short, but I think this is a good place to stop. Don't wanna go too far with all the angst flying around. I know a few of you asked for this and I hope this satisfy what you want from this episode. I know this is sad. I am actually thinking of a second chapter for this to deal with what will happen next, but I need some time to think about it… so, for now, it's going to be listed as completed, but maybe I'll add another chapter to it later when the muse strikes :P…
Hope you like it, and leave me a line if you do.
Until next time.