Dancing in Between

Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint.

:: My second Flashpoint fanfic :D It's a Jules oriented story with a little bit of Sam/Jules thrown in. I've been watching the new season and found some S/J holes to be filled, now if I can find some time…

:: Spoilers for S01x13 -- Between Heartbeats

Happy reading!

--

"So?" Matt Callaghan asked, his hands folded across his chest which had been defined once but now had dropped down to his belly beer. In spite of his thinning lousy brown hair, plump face and one limping foot, his eyes were still blazing with high determination and an inner fire. The warmth had been absence ever since his dear spouse passed away a few years ago, but to underestimate him would be a mistake. "Julianna?"

Jules frowned, not liking it one bit when he's calling her by something other than Jules. It was a name her mother would use whenever she was being naughty, or when she forgot to wash her hands before a meal. Her father had been calling her Julianna for the longest time and she still hated it. It felt as though she was constantly being grounded.

"Julianna," Matt called out again, more firmly this time. His patience had begun to drain away.

Taking a deep breath, Jules closed her hands together and made another V opening with her hands. She held her hands an arm length and focused her eyes on a log a few yards away. She slowly brought her hands back until they touched her face. "It's my left eye," She quickly said before she earned another 'Julianna'. "I can see the log with my left eye,"

"Okay, now that's your dominant eye," Matt said with a mild grin, satisfied. "It's really important and it will do most of the work. You shall use your left eye to aim with your gun,"

Jules nodded and stood a bit straighter, shivering when the autumn wind whistled passed her. Her hands immediately zipped up her jacket as she waited for the next instruction.

She was 11 now. Almost five years had passed since the horrible accident that had taken her mother away. She used to believe,--more like being made to believe-- that her mother simply had left them to become a star in the night sky, but now Jules was old enough to know that a drunk driver had killed her mom. He walked out with only a few scratches and a mild concussion, just like it always happened, but Anne Callaghan was killed. In the long run, it was slowly but surely killing the whole family as well, especially her husband.

Then Matt quit the force. In a span of a year, he changed drastically from the number one dad to someone who was drowning in negativity and too absorbed in his own misery. One spring day, he sold the 2 bedroom apartment to a Japanese couple and brought the kids to The Hat to start anew, and to plant potatoes.

"Place the rifle against your shoulder so you can look comfortably with your dominant eye; left eye, in your case," Matt said, fishing out a lighter from his pocket. "Grasp the grip of the stock with your last three fingers,"

Jules tried to concentrate. Her father would show her, but that was later. He wanted her to try first, because one never knew what she's capable of until she tried. Jules did as she was told, carefully resting her thumb on the top of the grip. The weight of the rifle was unexpectedly comforting in her hands. Confidence was growing inside and her heart was excitedly beating hard against her chest.

"Put your index finger in the trigger. Hold your breath while you shoot. It will be hard to maintain the sight picture if you continue breathing. You move your body when you breathe, you know, and gun movement must be kept to a minimum when you're shooting,"

She was five years old when her old man decided to teach her to shoot. Her mom would have 'shot' the idea down at once, pun intended. But even if she had been there, it wouldn't have stopped him from completing his intention.

She reckoned most girls in her class would have been disappointed to get a BB gun for their birthday instead of Barbie dolls, Polly pocket or stuffed animals, but Jules had been ecstatic and oh how she had been fascinated. Matt brought her to the backyard to use it for the first time. He held the gun and let Jules aim and pull the trigger. The first time the 'bullet' hit the broken fence, she had goosebumps.

At the end of the day, Matt told her everything about responsibility and consequences. She must not use the gun when he wasn't around, but instead she had all the liberty in the world to come to him whenever she had questions. Somehow Jules just knew that she was in for an amazing beginning. She had been given such a huge responsibility and she wasn't going to let him down.

"Never too hasten to pull the trigger," Matt continued behind her, a cigarette resting between his lips. The wind blew a puff of blue smokes at her direction. "Feel it. Squeeze it gently straight back in a smooth motion while you maintain your sight pictures. After that, simply keep your breath, sight and trigger control until the rifle goes back to its normal position after it recoils,"

She hadn't had any idea back then as to why her father would choose to teach her. After all, he had 4 other children who happened to be boys. However, as she got older she thought she knew why. Keith would rather cut his forefinger first before letting a shooting session with Dad get in the way for hanging out with his super sexy girlfriend. The same could be spoken about Brennan, though he would rather spend his day doing experiment about whatever he was interested in at the moment instead of flirting with the opposite sex, than being in the backyard with Dad.

"You have to know that guns don't kill people, people kill people," Matt said and sneered before amending, "Stupid people kill people. Unless you point your gun at yourself, it won't hurt you. So never point your gun to a living thing, unless you want to shoot 'em and destroy 'em. You have to know your gun. Eat with it, sleep with it. Make it your best friend. Know it well, no, know it even better than you know yourself,"

When she finally pulled the trigger, Jules felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was such a powerful, overwhelming feeling and she wouldn't ever forget that.

"Not bad, Julianna," Matt patted her on the back, almost shoving her forward with his unbottled enthusiasm and pride. "Not bad at all,"

Jules was almost glowing with delight.

But she still hated that name.

--

The bed she was laying on was more than a little uncomfortable and she could feel her tired muscles ache even more. Her body felt numb. With some effort she had successfully twitched her fingers earlier today –what day is today exactly?- and wiggled her toes, but her eyes still felt like lead; too heavy to even open. Her side hurt like nobody's business and her back was sore from both the operation and the fact that she hadn't changed position for the last 48 hours. Is it? Has it been that long? Or less than that? She wanted to wake up, but all her cells commanded her to relax, let go, and just sleep.

Jules could scarcely hear the door faintly open, giving way for the noise in the hallway to get inside. It was calming; the room was so deadly quiet that she felt like losing some of her sanity. Somewhere between here and there, what had happened before slowly coming back, resurfacing. Officer's down! Jules had been shot!

She had been shot. Her father wouldn't be happy.

Sweet, indistinct scent of roses wafted to her nose, yet it couldn't cover the hospital odor. Combination of medicines, antiseptics, disinfectant, mothballs and humidifier teamed up and created a nauseating sickening smell. Various machines of some kind beeped constantly in the background, a sound that had sneaked its way into her nerves ever since she 'woke up'. Right now though, it seemed to magically lull her back to sleep. She felt herself being pulled deeper and deeper that she didn't even hear when the door closed with the softest thud and blocked all sort of ruckus from outside.

The right side of the bed sunk and three seconds later Sam pushed her bangs off her face. "Hey Jules,"

--

"Hey sunny boring day, how are you?" Jules mumbled, one of her feet kicking a pebble with her scuffed brown boots. There's no house chores needed to be finished, no interesting cartoons on the television to be watched and for the first time, she kind of missed her brothers. Brennan, James, Keith and Morgan had left to Toronto for a six day vacation slash business. They had to sell potatoes to three of dad's old buddies. Brennan was the oldest of them all; 8 years older from her while the twins Keith and Morgan were three years younger than Brennan and two years older than James. If they were here they would have played hide and seek or Marco Polo already. Her hand absently smoothed down her bangs to cover the zit. God, she wouldn't even complained if they were here just to tease her about the darn pimple on her forehead, glaring like a red emergency button for everyone to see.

Feeling bored out of her mind, Jules decided to take a walk. She had locked the front door and slipped the key into her front pocket, tapping it once to make sure it would still be there ten minutes later.

She had been wandering aimlessly through out the woods, enjoying the sun's rays warming her skin. Keith had commented that she was almost as pale as an albino. She had kicked him good for that, but she thought it would be kind of cool to show off her new darker skin tone when he got back two days later. She had started considering going back to the house, feeling like having a slice of homemade chocolate cake when a loud bang burst through the air, cutting through the tranquility.

Her first reaction was to jump and run away. Then the shock ebbed and a sense of relief washed through her, hands still clutching her shirt tightly. She recognized that sound. Her father was probably shooting at doves or Pepsi cans near the pond. Jules' shoulders slumped down. As much as she wanted to see, her father's warning echoed in her ears.

'You are never to go more than the Woodbanks,' He had said, no, he had -ordered-. 'It's dangerous and rest assured I won't bother to make a search party to look for you if you cross the line and get lost,"

She wasn't going to cross the line and do anything reckless, she was simply curious. She would just take a very quick peek, turn around and go home. It sure wouldn't hurt…

While her consciousness was having a thoroughly mental debate, her legs had moved on their own accord and brought her deeper into the woods than she had ever been before. Without having her father or one of her brothers to accompany her, that was.

There was an open space nearly an acre in extent and Jules easily spotted her father. She quickly ducked and gracefully moved to hide behind a bush before he caught her. If that happened, she would be in the dog house. Wandering off to a forbidden place was one thing, but deliberately disobeying Pop was another.

Matt had his Remington 870P with him, Jules noticed, an old friend he had had ever since he was still a cop, just like the Glock .22 he kept in the nightstand. Matt owned 24 guns which most of them were inherited from his late father. He treated them like the most precious thing in the world and kept them locked safely.

Another shot clipped through the air and her train of thoughts. She could hear he let out a series of swears which would never be said around the kids and her eyes caught a flash of movement through the trees ahead.

Jules grew cold. She knew she had to leave, now. Her dad wasn't shooting at some empty bottle beers or cans, he was hunting. And after another two loud ear-splitting bangs that came afterward, Jules knew he was on fire.

"Get your butt out of here!" She told herself. "Get out!"

Jules bolted up from her crouched position under a second and swayed, losing her footing a little bit. A hanging branch waved in front of her eyes, almost seemed to be in a teasing motion, and she grabbed it. Alas, the thin piece of wood held no power in supporting her weight. It snapped with a sharp crack and she tumbled backwards with a yelp.

It happened so fast.

Even the best fall down sometimes.

The pain shot from her right arm, to her elbow and to her shoulder before radiating through out her every nerve like lightning just struck in the middle of a cloudless day. She had never known such pain existed.

"What the… Julianna? Julliana!"

She was laying on the ground, the dry leaves and grasses poking her everywhere. The fact that he still called her Julianna finally registered and if she weren't in so much pain, she would have rolled eyes. Jules sucked in ragged breaths, all the while could feel warm blood soaking through her clothes. The air around her had this unidentified unpleasant, metallic smell. A second later she realized it was the smell of her own blood.

I'm going to die…Curiosity killed the cat… I'm going to die… Curiosity killed the cat …

"Julianna, oh geez, what the fuck are you doing here?" His father's voice seemed distant and surreal, like there was an invisible shield between them and all the noise around them was half muted.

You're not going to die, silly, but you're going to be –so- grounded.

"Dad…," Her voice was trembling but it surprised her that she managed to say anything at all. Tears trickled down the slope of her cheeks, drying quickly as the new ones blurred her vision. "I'm sorry,"

Matt was terror stricken. Beads of sweats pouring down his forehead down to his redden face. He was swearing like a sailor and his eyes were glazed over with panic and shining with the first tinge of tears. The first and the last time she ever saw her dad crying was when they buried her mom.

"Stay still. It's going to be alright," He was pulling out his hankie. "Okay, Jules? It's going to be fine, Sweetheart,"

--

"Sweetheart…,"

Sam's touch was tender and warm and Jules wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in his arms and sleep for another two days. Her body relaxed as she started to wake up. It didn't feel as difficult as it had been to move. Her fingers tightened around Sam's larger hand.

"Jules?" His wavering, hopeful voice broke her heart.

She struggled to open her eyes. The light was so intense she had to close her eyes. When she tried for the second time, she blinked a few times, giving them time to adjust. The blurry objects seemed to be flying back to their own place until she could see Sam's face in front of her. "Do I have to get shot first to get called Sweetheart?" She said, not really surprised to find her voice hoarse and croaky. "You're blocking the view,"

The relieved smile welcomed her were worth the effort. She studied his face. His sandy blond hair was tousled and he appeared to have not shaved for a while. There were black circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep and his eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion. His rumpled t-shirt looked like it had been hastily thrown on. Sam looked like a wounded soldier. "God, Jules, I was so worried. Let me get the doctor, alright? I'm only going to leave for a while. I'll be right back, I promise,"

"No, please, stay," His unspoken protest reflected in his eyes, so she tightened her grip as much as her strength allowed her. "Just for a while, okay?"

Sam reluctantly agreed. His eyes were a pool of whirlwind emotion and she didn't need to be Dr. Luria to tell what was going through his mind. For Sam, it was probably Kandahar all over again. "Please don't blame yourself. I'm not really in the best of shape to smack you," Jules gave a weak chuckle. "Please, Sam? It's not your fault, and I'm okay, I won't be dieing on you anytime soon,"

"Don't crack a joke about that," Sam snapped, the words coming out harsher than he intended to be just because he had been so terrified. "It's not a laughing matter. I should have protected you, Jules. I should have… This shouldn't have happened. It's my fault, if I didn't-,"

"Look, this could have happened to anyone. It's a risk we all have to face everyday. It could have easily been Ed, or Sarge, or the others… I was just glad that it wasn't you," Jules added softly. "So I need you to forgive yourself for something which wasn't even your fault and be happy that I'm alive,"

Sam halfheartedly nodded. He without a doubt wouldn't have given up as easily if only she wasn't laying on a hospital bed, looking small and pale. Jules was the toughest woman he had ever known. To see her laying there, slowly spending her strength just to make a small conversation with him was disconcerting to say the least. "I'll try,"

"Good,"

"What did you mean by having to get shot first to be called Sweetheart?" Sam questioned, frowning a little. He had thought she was delirious, but after talking with her, he was sure that she wasn't.

"It was a story for another time," Jules shook her head and smiled. For now she wanted to enjoy her own little secret. She might tell him. Tomorrow, or tonight, maybe. "What?"

"You were smiling in your sleep. Good dreams?" Sam playfully winked, looking silly and adorable that she couldn't help but laughed. A moment later her side burst in pain and the laughter quickly subsided.

"Yeah, a dream about me kicking your sorry ass for forgetting the thinner. I want my study room's done sooner than ASAP,"

Smirking, Sam leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead, letting his lips rest there for a few moments to make sure she was really alright. He would let her enjoy her little secret, for now. "I'm going to call the doctor. Stay still," He stroked her cheek before standing up, slowly relinquishing his hold on her hand. "I mean it,"

"Yes, Boss," Jules smiled wanly.

He slanted a look her way before grinning like a Cheshire cat. Jules was awake. He was too happy to even pretend to be upset.

Sam cast a longing and affectionate gaze at her before closing the door behind him. Jules closed her eyes. Yes, it was a nice dream indeed…

:: I hope you like it (: Reviews are loved, since writing Flashpoint is still relatively new for me.