Scavenger

Disclaimer: Dun dun dun…

This totally comes from out of nowhere. Taking place somewhere when Jules is recovering from the shot. I love doing early seasons Jules, because I know how she was as a character. Now-Jules... she's a pretty confusing character and to be honest I haven't really figured her out, cos she's obviously has changed now. Hopefully the writers will shed some light in the next season, making her character more solid.

Massive thanks for Shawn30 for helping me out. As always, you rock.

"Jules? I'm home." Sam poked his head through the door before stepping in. His mind was still too preoccupied with how he'd found the front door –locked— to register his chosen word about Jules' place. The keys made a rattling noise when they made contact with the granite table. She had threatened to take the spare keys back if she caught him not hanging them properly on their rightly hook, but it didn't seem like she was around to find them. Her jeep was parked outside, looking as lonely as she had been. "Jules?"

He toed off his shoes -he was fully aware of her weird fondness for her furnished wooden floor- and scanned the open-space living room and kitchen, all the way to her well-kept backyard where there sat the new, unused BBQ grill.

No Jules. The house was empty. It felt empty. Sometimes he wondered how she could bear living alone in a house big enough to swallow her up.

Trying not to think about any possible predicament, like Jules being gurneyed into the ambulance because of some complication, he headed upstairs, two steps at a time. Maybe she's asleep. She had been doing a lot of sleeping lately, with the physio and stuff. She had told him that she's trying to avoid watching the news because it made her feel mad and useless, knowing that she was stuck at home doing nothing while the rest of the team was out there doing something. Though, she always asked him, kicked him on the shin when he's not cooperating, to rehearse his days every evening during dinner. He didn't know the difference that would make, but he knew better than to mention it to Jules. Maybe she felt better hearing about their latest adventures after they're over, knowing that nobody was hurt or killed.

Okay, don't panic now. You're not the overprotective boyfriend Jules had labeled you.

He pushed the bedroom door open, but even at a single glance he knew she's not there. Not in the bathroom either.

Don't panic, don't panic, she's fine, probably went to the store to get some more mangoes. But what if she got mugged? She could hardly bend down, let alone defend herself against the perpetrator. Once, he had made a joke about her starting to carry a pepper spray inside her bag that seemed to have everything in it and if glares could kill, he wouldn't be standing there right now.

Okay, is it time to panic now? Is it? His heart seemed to pump more blood to his brain and he felt dizzy. Hands grew cold and clammy. He was fumbling for his cellphone when his eyes caught a bright yellow paper on his pillow. The anxiety left him like a deflated balloon and his heartbeats returned to their normal pattern.

'Figured you'd get all panicky and see if I was sleeping. I'm not. Off to Timmy's with Sophie in a few. She'll pick me up, so you don't have to worry about me getting into an accident. Should be back in an hour. See you soon.'

Sam chuckled, mostly because he was relieved. Maybe Jules was right, after all. Maybe he was being ridiculously overprotective, but he was just trying to protect her. He had a lot to make up for and because he simply never felt this way about anybody before.

Not exactly the time for sappy sentiments now, Braddock.

Putting the Post-It note on the nightstand, he went to the bathroom to wash his face. It smelled of vanilla and jasmine with a bit of lilac. He was just thankful that Jules didn't go overboard the way his sister did. He had to use Natalie's bathroom once and the toxic level in there had almost suffocated him.

He found another note on the mirror. It was lime green.

'Sophie called and we're going to Timmy's. That's an offer I wouldn't have dreamed of passing. I'm starting to feel like a prisoner in my own house. I can hear my double-double calling!'

Sam was laughing now, rubbing his jaw and staring at her scribbles for a few more seconds. He wondered how many notes she had left him when she could have just texted him. Jules must have been really bored out of her mind. Not that he could blame her.

Instead of doing what he planned on doing, he took off from her room and began searching for more colorful papers, feeling energized all of a sudden. It was nice, a friendly yet somehow intimate gesture. Jules was probably bored, but she definitely cared enough to trouble herself.

He found another on the TV remote. The paper was bright orange and the handwriting was considerably smaller. He figured it had to be if she wanted to fit everything in.

'Are you seriously going to watch TV when I've supposedly gone missing? Seriously, Sam? Shame on you. Or maybe you want to check if I end up on the breaking news? If that's what you're thinking then the only thing that's going to break is your arm. Off to Timmy's with Sophie. No worries. I'm fine, everything's fine, nobody's dying. Later.'

Grinning, he shoved it into his pocket and went on with his hunt. There was a Post-It note on her computer mouse. She was writing about how he should be using his own computer if he wanted to browse porn (while she was missing) and pollute it with viruses. Typical, typical Jules.

The sun almost set when he wandered about her backyard, even opening the BBQ lid at one point to see if she'd put something inside. Her bookshelf was where the next one waiting and if he hadn't been so hurried going upstairs, he would have seen it. It was in plain sight.

Just four sentences. 'Going to Timmy's with Sophie. Be back in a few. Don't even think to cook dinner, I just cleaned my kitchen. Pizza?'

Thirty minutes passed. He was sitting on the recliner and giving the room a once over when the door opened and Jules walked in; she was carrying a brown Tim Horton's paper bag.

"Hey, sweetheart." Pushing himself up, he was by her side in a couple of long strides. He kissed the crown of her head. She smelled of coffee and cinnamon.

"Geez, Sam, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave the keys on the table?" She complained instead of replying to his greeting. She returned the keys to the hook. "Don't you remember when we're almost late because we couldn't find them?"

Of course he remembered. Jules had been very upset and anger had quickly turned to rage when he somehow found the keys inside the fridge, next to a nearly expired strawberry yogurt and a brownish looking banana. He still didn't know how they could end up there, but Jules had certainly thought he had hid them there on purpose and given him a long tongue lashing on their way to the headquarter before giving him a silent treatment for the rest of the day. It's just keys, for goodness' sake.

"I'm sorry," he shrugged sheepishly and brightened up visibly. "I found your notes."

Jules raised her eyebrows at the multicolored papers in his hand and smirked. "You missed one."

He frowned. "I did not."

"Oh yeah, you did. There's a purple one." She answered and gave him a peck before going to the kitchen. She probably took pity on him because she then turned around and shook her head, moving her bangs. "It's on the fridge, Sam. Most people will go check the fridge first."

He redirected his eyes to the kitchen and voila, there it was, underneath the red maple magnet. Well…

"It's violet."

"It's purple."

"It's too light to be purple."

"Yeah, like how it's Santorini Blue and not Santorini Sky?"

Damn it.

Then her smile turned from sweet to impish. There's a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a while, mainly because she had a hole on the side of her body and he didn't want to risk hurting her. "My bad, you're missing two." She lifted two perfect fingers to clinch her point. He supposed his frustration was very enjoyable to see. "Wanna know where the last one is?"

She's still smirking and he went wide-eyed when she cutely tugged her shirt down just a sliver, revealing a blue note underneath, right at the center of her chest. Just whenever did she put it there? His mouth suddenly went dry. "What does it say?"

Sighing, she cruised by him without saying a word. When she was halfway upstairs she looked down and grinned. He's still pinned to the floor. "If you can take it from me, you can have what it offers."

He shouldn't, he really shouldn't. She's hurt. Sure, she's recovering well, but she's still mildly injured. He kept repeating the same lines over and over again inside his head and yet he found his legs turning against him. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, when he reached her bedroom.

After a brief, invigorating, careful wrestling match, he finally retrieved the final Post-It.

Just two words.

'Drywall priming?'

Don't you miss them doing some drywall priming? I know I do. Reviews are loved.