The Hardest Part
Fandom: Flashpoint
Pairing: Sam/Jules
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Rating: K
ONE-SHOT
Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to, I don't own Flashpoint, and all characters remain property of the show's wonderful scriptwriters. All original characters and plots are mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Synopsis: She held her breath, fervently praying that he wouldn't say the words she so desperately wanted to here. Spoilers for 2x07 "The Perfect Storm"
Author's Note: Yes, yes, I'm on a Jam roll… picking out all the Jam moments I can while catching up with my watching. I don't where this came out from, it just popped out. Are you tired of me yet? ;)
"Decent?"
Jules heard rustling sounds as Sam turned, and she stepped from behind the lockers, which had earlier shielded him from her gaze.
She'd asked that question for formality's sake; there wasn't any part of him that she hadn't seen, hadn't touched, but this was HQ, and there was a certain distance and decorum to be maintained.
And there was the fact that they officially called it quits over coffee four weeks ago.
She wasn't sure if he had started seeing someone new since then – God, she hoped not – but that wasn't any of her business. The guys hadn't said anything beyond telling her that he had taken some time off, but then again, Sam had always played his cards close to his chest. Even if he were seeing someone, he probably wouldn't tell the team anyway.
A pang filled her heart as she contemplated that possibility while she studied him, standing in front of her half naked.
He looked good, she admitted to herself. Tired, but that was normal in their job. You hardly got enough sleep; if it wasn't because of a call that ran over time, it was because the nightmares kept you up.
There was also something else in his eyes, something that was bothering him. She'd heard Spike mention that Sam hadn't been himself since he came back from his vacation, and she wondered what went wrong.
It was the reason why she'd stopped by to chat, just to find out how he was.
He had never been closed with her; on the contrary, they had made it a post-coital ritual to simply lie in each other's arms and talk. Just talk. Sharing about their lives, their days, and their fears. They never talked about their hopes, or their future, but that was mostly her. She wasn't sure if she saw him in them.
If she was honest to herself, she was initiating this conversation not simply because she felt he needed a friend, but because she felt the need to reconnect with him.
Although the breakup had been her idea, it felt wrong somehow to have him excluded from her life. She wasn't cleared for the active duty, so she didn't get to spend time out with him in the field. She had gotten so used to hearing his voice everyday, and it felt like something was missing in the past four weeks when she didn't have that chance.
"Pulled some strings, wants me back in the military, where I can really make a difference."
She barely heard what he was telling her, but the words "back in the military" leapt out at her, and she felt her throat close up.
She struggled to maintain a nonchalant look on her face. She couldn't deny the sinking feeling she felt at the thought that he might leave because of her, for her.
"Niiiiceeee." She drawled out the word, as if he said things like that to her everyday, but in reality it took all her effort to sound as if she didn't care. "What'd you say?"
"I said I could make a difference here."
Sam held her gaze, and she was mesmerized. His eyes had always fascinated her, always caught her in their web. With one look, she turned putty in his heads, and with one look, he tore apart all her defenses.
She wasn't quite sure what difference Sam was referring to, but the look in his eyes told her he wasn't just talking about the lives he could potentially save as a member of the team.
This was about them. About her.
"Good for you."
She broke eye contact, unable to bear the intensity of the emotions he was communicating to her on a non-verbal level. It had been a mistake to come here. It had been a mistake to talk to him, one-on-one, alone, in the locker room. She should have known better. It just hurt far too much, and she wasn't quite why. This was what she wanted, wasn't it?
And then he was talking again, and she tried to focus on his words.
"Dealing with my dad, that was the easy part."
For a moment, she let his words slide over her. She was afraid to ask the next question; afraid of what his answer might be.
But she wasn't one to shy away from the challenges, and she was one to continue torturing herself being in his presence, so she forced the words out.
"What was the hard part?"
She held her breath, fervently praying that he wouldn't say the words she so desperately wanted to hear.
"When my mom asked when she gets to meet you."
He left her standing there, contemplating his words.
It was the hardest part indeed, knowing that it had been her choice to no longer be a part of his life.
