He thinks he's capable of carrying the world on his shoulders, and that's simply not true.
There's only so much one man can do, especially after being thrown into unforgiving circumstances. His job is tough, yet it seems so easy in comparison to the others.
Daily, he sits, safe with his computers. Daily, it's his duty to study the most gruesome tapes, and get intimate with a crime scene. Daily, he stays informed to keep the team updated while they're out, actually making a difference in the world. He's just the computer boy, up there, with his algorithms and sandals and humor as his coping mechanism of choice.
He's the one who watched Michelle take her last, gasping breaths. Hell, he's the one who had to keep a running clock of when she'd stop breathing. That takes a toll, plaguing him, day after day, and night after night. If he'd been watching just a bit closer, found her just a little sooner...
He wakes screaming and shaking, his eyes full of salt and his heart full of apologies.
And she's there, right by his side, pushing red hair out of her face, trying to make him understand
"It's never been your fault. You do your job as well as you can, and that's all that matters. She wouldn't want you this way, not after all the good you've done for her family."
Her gentle words reassure him for now, but that doesn't stop the guilt. He gets to wake up to his favorite beauty curled into him, hair scattered across the pillow, while Sam doesn't.
That's his curse.