A/N: So, recently finished watching Flashpoint and I'm so emotional that it's over but I really wanted to write a Sam-centric fanfic so here it is hopefully it's not too bad. It's unbeta'd so I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, although I tried to catch all of them.

This is probably set somewhere in Season Five, except Sam and Jules aren't in a relationship. So yeah, most of this is going to be about Sam trying to break a drug addiction. Please read and review!

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream.
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit,
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight

- Breaking the Habit - Linkin Park

"Look, I can explain."

"Explain what, Sam?" Ed shouted angrily, waving the crumpled papers in front of his face. "Explain the fact that your drug tests came back positive?"

From the corners of his eyes, Sam watched the rest of the team look up in shock. All conversation stopped, and he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Listen, Ed, can we do this somewhere else?"

"Why? This concerns the whole team, not just you. They have a right to know, don't you think?"

And then in a soft, almost pleading tone.

"Please, Sam, look me in the eye, and tell me that these are wrong. Look me in the eye, Sam."

Sam looked up, but he couldn't seem to meet the other man's eyes.

"I-I wish I could. I'm sorry, Ed."

"Why? You know what it does to you. You know that it's prohibited."

Sam attempted to move past his teammate, but despite the fact that Sam was an inch taller, Ed had had him cornered.

"I'll hand in my resignation later. Please, not now, Ed. Not now."

"Why?" Ed whispered, his voice cracking. "I've- we've known you for years now. Is there a problem at home? Family?"

Sam smiled bitterly, though the others could see how forced and harsh it was.

"I wish. No, it's nothing at home."

"Then what is it? We want to help, Sam," Jules asked, moving closer. He could see the worry and concern on her face, along with the anger and sympathy. This was the last thing he wanted. For his team to feel sorry for him.

"No. Don't say that. Stop acting like you're negotiating with me. I'm not a subject. And if you cared, you would've noticed. You would've noticed before it got to this point."

He could see the hurt immediately register in all of their eyes. He knew he'd feel guilty for that later, but right now, all he needed was to get away. He didn't want them to know how pathetic he'd become, how helpless he was. A lamb ready for slaughter.

"Oh, I do care, Sam. If you think that I don't, then you are sorely mistaken. Ed cares. Spike cares. Leah cares. Boss cares. So you tell me right now."

"You don't want to hear it, Jules. I promise you."

"The hell I don't! I want to know, and I want to fucking know right now!" Jules yelled, stabbing the air with her finger. Sam could see a brief flash of something between Greg and Ed as Ed placed a soothing but restraining hand on Jules' wrist.

The bleak smile promptly faded from Sam's mouth as it was replaced by his own anger.

"Fine. You want to know? It's this job. All of you think you have it so terrible because boo hoo, you failed to save someone. Guess who does most of the shooting? Ed, you know what I'm talking about."

"Sam, I know what you're going through-"

"No, you don't Ed. You think you do, but you don't. You have people to turn to. You haven't killed nearly as many people as me. You wouldn't understand. You couldn't."

Sam felt guilty for a brief second at the look of pain on his friend's face, but he used it as a distraction to slip away. He needed to be alone.

"Sam, wait-"

The loud, blaring sounds of the traffic were a welcome escape for Sam. It distracted him and helped him forget. Forget the people, the faces, the hurt, the lies, and the pain. Helped him forget how he spent his whole life killing people. Murderer. Murderer.

He had nowhere to escape, really. The black shards of depression seemed to follow him everywhere, each victim's face reflected inside each shiny, jagged piece. Haunting him, eyes piercing his gaze. They followed him everywhere. Judging him.

How could you do this to me?

Monster!

I was only protecting my child.

The only way to forget was to forgive himself, and he couldn't do that. He couldn't excuse himself from killing Matt. He was supposed to be an officer of the law, not a judge, but wasn't he judging people when he killed them? Judging what was too far over the line by a book. A book, filled with unforgiving words, that told him when to kill.

Nothing ever helped. He tried forgiving himself. Talking to himself. Doing something, anything, but remember because it hurt too much. He still had the scars where he cut himself, but he stopped after a while because the pain made it easier to bear for a little, but then the truth came crashing down on him like ocean waves, mercilessly pounding him until he had nothing left to give. Nothing.

Then, by chance, Sebastion had contacted him. He did drugs. He was far from famous but wasn't a nobody either. Drugs in exchange for keeping the SRU away.

Sam could still remember that day. He would've arrested him right then and there, but there was something enticing about drugs. Weren't they supposed to help you forget? To get rid of the past, the pain?

An especially loud car horn shook him out of his reveries, and he cursed himself for getting trapped in memory lane. There was no point dwelling on the past. The more he thought, the harder it was to deal with.

Stupid. Stupid. Why would you let yourself get caught? You knew they took blood tests, his mind whispered. You knew. You knew.

And that made it so much worse.

So Sam hurried across the street to his sparsely decorated apartment and did what he had done for the past half year.

He lost himself again.