What the hell was that? Sam thought suddenly, his hand on his locker room door. Someone yelling? Is that – no! Jules – Jules is in trouble –

Every thought and emotion Sam had been experiencing disappeared in the moment that it took for the concept to register. Jules is in trouble – help Jules – Jules –

He sprinted over to the female dressing room, hesitating for only a split second before pushing the door open and running inside. He whirled around, fists clenched, prepared to fight off an intruder, protect Jules – protect Jules – protect Jules –

The breath left his lungs with a whoosh when he realized that there was no one in the room aside for its intended occupant, who seemed to be in a great amount of distress. Focusing his panicked gaze on her, a myriad of scenarios and worries as to the cause of her anguish crowded into Sam's mind.

"Jules?" There was no reply. He hurried towards her perch on the counter.

Her hands ore over her face. Did someone hit her? Was she attacked? Protect Jules. Protect Jules –

Sam reached out and gently took hold of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face.

He searched her for signs of trauma, for bruising, for red marks – there were none beneath the streaks of tears. He touched her face, her stomach, her leg – was she hurt? Protect Jules – Protect Jules – Protect –

A stinging slap brought his whirling thoughts to a jolting stop. Jerking backwards and putting a hand to his burning cheek, he cried out, "Ouch! What was that for?"

Jules's eyes were blazing beneath her tears. Through gritted teeth, she said sharply, "Don't touch me."

"I – I want to make sure you're okay!" Sam shouted in consternation. "Did someone hurt you?"

Jules's mouth twisted and she turned her face to the mirror.

"Jules! Did someone hurt –" Like a sudden clearing of thick fog, understanding of the situation suddenly hit Sam. The confusion and concern froze on his face before his features fell into a grimace. What an idiot he was. Nobody had hurt Jules. Nobody but him, that is. She was flippin angry at him. Angry at him. She was mad – she was angry – she was – nobody had hurt Jules – she was just –

Angry at me! Resentment exploded in the pit of Sam's stomach. He swallowed hard, looking at the lockers, at the walls, anywhere but at this woman, this woman that he loved, this woman that maybe he hated…

It took only a light swing for him to pull himself up onto the counter.

"Move over," he ordered.

"What?" Jules asked in disbelief.

Instead of responding, Sam placed his hands on her waist and nudged her to the left, creating a space between her and the wall which he slipped in to.

Jules gave him a look of pure loathing. "I told you not to touch me," she said.

"That's just because you're angry at me," Sam shot back. "You never seemed to mind very much before."

She gasped with indignation. "How dare you," she said. "Get out of my locker room."

"No," Sam said stubbornly.

"Get out!" she repeated, more insistently.

"No."

The wind seemed to have been knocked out of her sails by Sam's unexpected refusal.

"Why?" she whispered, suddenly weak.

"Because you shouldn't be alone right now."

"Do you think you're going to get something out of this?"

"What the hell, Jules?"

"Sam, we are not together."

"Yeah, I got that part."

He sat in mulish silence. She stared at him, uncomprehending.

Sam leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on evening out his breathing. Jules continued to stare up at him until the angle began to hurt her neck. She turned to face forward again, this time silently studying Sam's hands, lying loosely on his lap.

Why is he here? Why does he have to come, to always come, to try to be my hero – I don't need a hero. I don't need someone to save me. I need – I need – I don't need anything. I can do just fine by myself… I've done well enough so far, haven't I… I've done well on my own… Not that it isn't nice to have someone else around… Someone sitting next to me…

She had begun to trace idle patterns in his palms when she realized that she was no longer angry.

It isn't Sam's fault, anyway, this whole stupid situation. It's mine, really. I broke up with him, didn't I? "Dumped" him? Yes, but I'd had to – it wasn't my choice, and – and I love Sam. I really do. Which is why it hurts so much to think of another woman sharing his bed. I can't have him, but I don't want anyone else to… is that fair to Sam? And if he's found someone he could actually have a future with – maybe I should be glad for him instead of bitter…

Jules looked up at Sam's face, suddenly noticing the lines etched in his brow. He looked so sad, sitting there next to her, his eyes still closed and his breathing so even she thought he might have fallen asleep – but then she touched his forehead gently, and his cheek twitched, and his eyes blinked open.

"Sorry," she breathed.

He looked at her for a long moment, taking in the lighter look in her eyes, the drawn lines of her face, the sadness that had replaced anger. Then he closed his eyes again, but this time his brow was not so furrowed, and his visage not as troubled.

Jules gently lifted his left arm and placed it around her, leaning against his chest. She moved around slightly to find a more comfortable position, then let out a deep breath of her own.

She would make up the missed workout later tonight. For now, she closed her eyes and listened to Sam's heart beating, and imagined that it beat only for her.

*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*

AN: My first ever fanfiction, so reviews are very much appreciated.

I compiled a very short video on YouTube to go along with the story - http:// www .youtube .com/watch?v=shJplS9E82 (Remove spaces in link).

I hope you like it =)