Title: In Between

Author: Dragonfly's Girl aka KiKi

Disclaimers: Not mine. Never will be, though I'm proud to exclaim that these characters are penned and created by a fellow Canadian! I'll play with them then return them when they've finished playing out my fantasy!

Spoiler: Future Episode called Fight or Flight now (not sure about when it'll be aired because there's some shoveling around the episode, apparently)

Note: This is a companion piece to my other story Up Down Beep Breath. A continuation of sort. I had wanted to add this to the new chapter, but then the feel of this part is just too different from the other one, and so I've decided that it's best to keep them separate.

Hope you like this, and that you all enjoy the start of Flashpoint again :)

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Many people didn't believe in purgatory. She used to be one of them.

Purgatory, such a horrible concept: the place where souls would face punishment and purification for their sins. A place torn between two worlds.

Between Heaven and Hell. Between good and evil. Between light and darkness. Between joy and pain.

She now understood what a purgatory was.

It was nothing like what her Sunday school teacher had taught her. No, it was more than that. It was more than an indefinite wait for redemption.

It was sheer torture.

Here she was, lingering between life and death, completion and emptiness, elation and heart-break. She had no place to settle, no one to turn to. She was hanging on by tangent, by herself.

She was drawn towards the darkness, the glorious promise of oblivion, of painlessness, yet at the same time, she was pulled towards the light, the emotions and thrill.

She was lost, between the two dimensions, both equally compelling.

There was no way out. There was no yellow brick road, no North star in the sky, no bright neon exit sign.

No, there was none of that. There was only this vast nothingness.

She wasn't on a little boat gingerly tattering to shore by a rope. She wasn't walking towards a mass of glowing matters that would lead her one way or the other.

She was in a dimension filled with nothing and nothing at all.

She was angry, livid, mad, for now she was stuck in a place where she couldn't fight her way out of. There was no bad guys to shoot, no crazed subject to negotiate with, no doors to kick down.

There was nothing she could do.

And she hated it, because here, there was no perfection, no right or wrong, no action. She couldn't talk her way out; she couldn't shoot her way out. She couldn't do the right thing and open the magic door. It was everything she feared in life and more.

I should have protected you.

A man's broken declaration.

Yes, she heard him. No, he shouldn't have had to protect her. She wasn't some damsel in distress that needed a big strong man to keep her honour. No, Julianna Callaghan didn't need a protector.

She would have asked him to leave her on the rooftop if she had had the breath. He likely wouldn't agree, but she would have insisted.

There was no point in two people living the same nightmare. She was hit. She was down. That day on the roof would stay with her for a long, long time.

He didn't need that.

He didn't need to be reminded of the smell of iron, of blood, of dampness in the air, of fear surrounding them. He didn't need to be reminded of the sound of the gusting wind, the shot, the bullet ricocheting off the shield, the gurgling from her throat, the static from the radio, the barely controlled commands from Sarge. He didn't need to be reminded of the feel of concrete under his knee and her body, of warm blood seeping away with her life, of fear, of pain, of disbelief.

No, he didn't need to be reminded of all that. He had seen enough death. He didn't need another to add to his collection.

It was her nightmare; he shouldn't have had to deal with them.

And if she didn't make it, she didn't want his last memory of her to be of her lying near death struggling to breathe on a slab of concrete on a rooftop under fire.

But she would be a liar if she didn't admit how right it felt in Sam's arms. Safe in this world, safe from all insanity, safe from all worries.

I think I love you, Jules. I really think so, but I don't know.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she wondered if that was what it would take to bring her out of this dreaded place.

He loved her? How could he be sure he loved her when all she could feel was jumbled up emotions, of lust, of desire, of want, of need. Of a million emotions that she couldn't identify herself.

What was love? Was any those things love? Was she in love without realizing it?

And how could a man like Sam Braddock know he loved her after such a short time? This guy, a good-looking, ladies' man who could charm his way into anything he wanted, would feel such deep emotions for her?

I don't know, but I think I do love you, Jules. Sweetheart, please, just open those eyes? Please?

Oh, she wanted to. How she wanted to. She wanted to leave this place and go back to him and see for herself what being loved look like, feel like. Because she had never been charmed and spoiled as he did her, never wanted to learn more about someone as she wanted to know of him, never tried so hard to resist someone only to fail and fall hard.

Never felt so strongly for someone who also claimed to feel the same for her.

She wanted to know what living like that would be like.

A stab of pain jarred on her left side, the first time she felt pain since she had entered this dreadful dimension. Her eyes were drooping, heavier and heavier, harder to hold open.

Eventually, she let herself succumb to the pain and the need to sleep.

Then, a breeze woke her.

No, not a breeze.

Someone woke her. Someone breathing beside her. Someone who had brushed her hair off her forehead and had rested his forehead against the side of hers.

She was struggling to open her eyes, but they were still heavy. She could feel someone holding her hand tightly. She could feel the thumping of heartbeat where her hand was, and she knew, someone was holding her hand to his chest.

A moment of panic due to the unknown passed, and she relaxed. She recognized the smell, the feeling, the perfect fit.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" his voice thick with tiredness. "Jules?"

The weight beside her lifted, and she rolled her head towards his voice.

She willed her eyes to open; the lids were still leaden.

"Can you hear me, Jules?" he asked again, and in response, she managed to wriggle her fingers. Not much, but enough that he tightened his grip on her. "Jules."

"Yes," she murmured before finally managing to open her eyes slightly. She clamped them shut at the assault of the light before trying again.

"I'm calling the doctor," the man sounded like a boy receiving his favourite present on Christmas Day.

Normally, Jules would be amused by the way Sam fumbled around with the call button before finally pressing down on the key and summoning someone. At the moment, however, her sight was locked on the blond man in front of her.

A nurse poked her head in to check on them, then ran out to get the doctor.

Her eyes continued to take him in.

He looked tired, haggard event. There were bags under his eyes, and it was obvious that he hadn't shaved properly in a while.

Her heart constricted at the obvious distress he was in.

"Sam?"

"Shh, don't talk just now," he squeezed her hand and brushed her hair off her forehead to press a kiss there. "Thank God you're awake."

She did as he asked and remained quiet, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She was taking it all in, drinking in his presence and letting his closeness helped reorient her to this dimension.

Something told her that he hadn't been taking care of himself properly.

"Ahh, Ms. Callaghan," the doctor announced himself as he walked through the door. "Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?"

"Like I just woke up from a long sleep after getting shot?" she quipped. She hated how weak her voice sounded.

The two men chuckled at her words, and the doctor proceeded to examine her.

Throughout, Sam never wavered from his position. He held her hand and held her gaze. The medical staff seemed to be moving around him at ease.

Finally, when the staff left the room, and she felt the pull of sleep once again, "How long have you been here?"

"Since the beginning," he replied honestly, his voice down to a bare whisper and his eyes were locked on her face. "I couldn't bring myself to leave."

She nodded, acknowledging his words. She wanted to ask him, about what he had said. But then, what would she do with those answers? Was she ready to deal with them? Did she know clearly what she was feeling?

She only knew one thing; she really didn't want to be apart from the man now by her side.

Maybe it was love that she felt for Sam Braddock, after all. Maybe.

There was a fluttering in her stomach, just like when he was standing close to her at HQ or when he was with her in her house. She liked how his hand hadn't really let go of hers except when absolutely necessary. Perversely, she liked how he had stayed throughout.

"You need to get some sleep," he murmured softly.

"Just tell me one thing," she responded just as softly, tiredness slowly winning.

"Anything, sweetheart."

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, and waited for the moment his eyes widened and he realized what she was asking.

"Jules, I – " he started, stammering, then a sigh, "Yes."

Those words lifted her spirit, and she felt life, completion, elation, joy, light. She felt like a woman in love.

"You'll need to tell me again and find out when I wake up then," she commanded with a smile. After one last squeeze of his hand, she let her eyes close and let the knowledge that he was right beside her anchor her as she drifted back to sleep.