I updated...finally. I really have no excuse to be taking so long.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Hopefully nobody finds this chapter too rambley, i sort of went off on a tangent.
Song is "Far Away" by Nickelback!
This time, This place
Misused, Mistakes
Too long, Too late
Who was I to make you wait
Just one chance
Just one breath
Just in case there's just one left
'Cause you know, you know, you know
I love you
I have loved you all along
And I miss you
Been far away for far too long
I keep dreaming you'll be with me
and you'll never go
Stop breathing if
I don't see you anymore
For the first time, the presence of his teammates holds no comfort for Sam Braddock. All eyes are on him as he crashes through the doors of the ICU of St. Simon's hospital and 10 pm, but he's numb to the stares. His mind, body, and very soul are in mission mode.
Get back to her.
Spike has been his best friend for a while now, but he knows Sam's not going to stop for him. He approaches anyway, more out of friendly instinct than anything else. When a buddy is in distress, you go to him, even though you know he's going to turn away. The dark-haired bomb expert lays a hand on the blond sniper's shoulder, trying to make eye contact, trying to ascertain that he's at least partly alright. Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment before the sniper grunts something indeciphirable. Whether it's an apology or an excuse Spike is unsure, but allows his brother-in-arms to continue alone into the dark room that is occupied by Jules and Sarge.
Get back to her.
Sarge observes the many emotions flashing through Braddock's eyes as he sees her lying pale and lifeless in the hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines that she would never have tolerated in a conscious state. He sees the younger man rip his eyes away from her so he can meet his senior officer's gaze. Sarge hates the feeling of being at a loss for words, as speechlessness so often leads to destruction in his line of duty, but he's drawing a blank as to what he can say to Sam at this moment. He has no doubt in his mind that there's more than something between Braddock and Callaghan, but he's fairly sure that this isn't the time to bring it up. So, like Spike, he lays his hand on Sam's shoulder and applies a gentle pressure.
"She's okay." he murmurs. Small words, prehaps, but God knows Braddock needs a bit of comforting in this day from hell. But it's all he can say at the moment and he departs, leaving Sam facing the pale figure on the hospital bed.
She's sleeping, he tries to tell himself. Just sleeping.
It's partly true, she's been given some heavy sedatives, and probably won't be conscious till some time tomorrow.
"Hey Jules. Hey sweetheart, how are you?" he hears himself choke out as he takes a seat beside her bed, as close as possible. He lightly traces his hand over her forhead and hair, in the futile hope that his touch would bring her back to consciousness. "I got here as fast as I could, Jules." He continues, he can attone for this by admitting his haste to get back to her side. But deep beneath the surface he knows that he will always carry the guilt, and no matter where the blame comes from, whether from himself or from the rest of the team, it will always come. And when Jules wakes, will it come from her as well?
He forces himself not to think in that direction. He breathes her name again, just to hear it. Jerks his eyes away from her for just a moment, to observe the rest of the team in the waiting room. Lou is pacing, Spike is standing against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like a worried big brother. Wordy is standing close to Ed and Sarge, wearing a likewise expression of unease. Sarge says something to Ed, who shakes his head with a look of grim determination. Sam doesn't need to be able to hear them to know exactly what they're saying; Ed needs to get back to his family as much as Sam needed to get back to Jules. Ed just doesn't realise it. Sam turns his eyes back to her; quite frankly, he doesn't give a damn whether Ed stays or leaves at this moment.
On my knees, I'll ask
Last chance for one last dance
Cause with you, I'd withstand
All of hell to hold your hand
I'd give it all
I'd give for us
Give anything but I won't give up
Cause you know, you know, you know
I love you
I have loved you all along
And I miss you
Been far away for far too long
I keep dreaming you'll be with me
and you'll never go
Stop breathing if
I don't see you anymore
"Remember the first time you saw me, Jules?" he asks in a strangled whisper. "I saw you first, you were walking back to the trucks with Spike. I knew I was going to meet you all that night, but I couldn't wait that long to meet you, because I'm just an idiot that way. But you already know that..."
For a moment, a smile plays on his lips. It feels good. So he continues.
"So I went over and introduced myself, and the next thing I knew, the whole team including you had your guns pointed at my head...And the rest is history, right?"
He doesn't know quite what he was expecting, but somehow her liflessness feels like a letdown. How desperately he wants her eyes to open, to show him the fire in her deep mahogany eyes. The fire that warms him when he's at his coldest.
Like that dark day last April...a drug bust gone out-of-control, Sam flashing his rebellious streak to Ed, only to be shoved against the side of the command truck like an unruly schoolboy, and having to recount the worst detail of his past. When they got back to the station, he opened his locker to reveal that old picture of himself and Matt smiling like they always had, back in the day... He couldn't recall how long he'd sat on the bench, staring at nothing in particular, trying to breathe, trying not to break down, all as the memories of that day crashed back and forth in his mind.
But when he finally dragged himself up from obilvion, and out of the chilly locker room, she'd been there waiting for him.
She'd been there. He'd asked her out that morning, and she politely refused. Yet she'd been there. He couldn't quite fathom it, but it was like one of those math equations. Who gave a damn how you got the answer, as long as you got it right. And right it had been. They'd sat in his truck for 45 minuites, and he'd told her his story, answered the question she'd asked during their second meeting:
"A special-ops counter-terrorist guy leaves it all behind for the glamour of the urban police force. What's up with that?"
He can hear her voice so clearly in his mind, and he grits his teeth against the persistent flashback of hearing that one shot...seeing her crumple...and forcing himself run run towards her, feeling slow and clumsy as if in a dream.
Another summer day that sticks out in his memory is a cool cloudy morning in late May. A bank robbery and a hostage situation, ultimately ending in Sam pulling the trigger on a man who just wanted the best for his wife. That was the third shot he'd taken in his entire life that made him hurt past a bearable point. The first time he ever shot someone, back in the Middle East, he got the works: flashbacks, doubt, guilt, grief, nightmares, second-guessing, the whole package. He'd gotten over it. He had no other choice. The second time it hurt was the time he shot Matt. But he didn't allow himself to think about that anymore... And the third time was ending George Orston's life. George was innocent, hard-working, and willing to die so his wife could live out the rest of her life safely.
And Jules now shared all that pain, because at the end of the day she was there for him again, proving that the first time wasn't a fluke.
Flash forward a few weeks. A late-night mall shooting, a terrified and tortured girl, pushed to the edge. Literally. But when she tumbled off the edge, Jules plunged after her. Smashing against the side of the tower was nothing compared to what would have happened if they'd made it to the pavement...it could have been so easy, a malfuction with the line, or the clip, or the harness...he still woke up in cold sweat sometimes, contemplating the devestation that could have occurred that night. It didn't happen, he'd told himself again and again. It didn't happen. She's okay. You're okay.
And as if that wasn't close enough, it was barely two weeks later she had to talk down another scared teenage girl, but this one wasn't exhasuted and ready to die as Tasha had been, this girl Penny had a loaded gun aimed at Jules' head, and was ready to fight for her life.
"What they need now is a female voice." he'd told her in his usual fatherly manner. "I'll be your second, inside your ear the whole time."
As unsure as he knew she was, she'd agreed to play negotiator that day. Julianna Callaghan didn't know how to back down from any challenge, no matter how deadly. Almost an hour they stood there, Jules trying to placate the panicking girl, and Sam not allowing himself to take his eye of the target for even a moment, because if she escalated, and he wasn't ready, Jules would be dead before he could pull the trigger. Throughout the ordeal, she was pressed against him so closely he was suprised she couldn't feel him shaking. "I have the solution." he'd reminded Sarge more times than he could remember. Not that he needed an official scorpio call if this girl continued to threaten Jules. And the moment when she'd stepped away from him...it was only the brief touch of her hand to his, and her comforting whisper that it was okay that kept him from shooting.
It was so hard to stay back at the opposite side of the room as she stood barely two feet away from a distraught and armed teenager...so damn hard...but when Penny's weapon finally dropped, he could have sworn Jules heard his sharp intake of air as he became able to breathe normally again...
The hospital room suddenly comes back into focus as Sam realises he'd been drifting off to sleep, gently lulled by memories of Jules, softly beeping machines, and the sound of her breathing. He notices with a smile that his right hand is wrapped around hers, even though he can't remember putting it there. With his left hand, he reaches up and brushes the damp hair off her forehead.
"How are you doing, baby?" he murmurs, not expecting an answer. He raises his head for the first time in who knows how long, and glances out the glass panel that provides a view of the waiting room. Sarge seems to be sleeping, and Sam feels a sting of guilt that he'd taken over Jules' room, not giving Greg a second thought. She was after all, like a daughter to him. Wordy, Spike, and Lou have departed. Lou has his current girlfriend who would be anxious to make sure he was alright, as the entire city would have seen the events of the day unfolding on TV. Spike had his parents to come home to, enough said there. Wordy, of course, has daughters waiting, along with his beloved Shelley. For a moment, Sam contemplates what his life would be if he was settled down the way Wordy was. At first the thought seems strange and foreign, but he gives the idea a moment to develop as he glances back at Jules, and suddenly the idea of commitment doesn't seem so intimidating...
His eyes landing on her lifeless form triggers another shockwave of flashbacks and memories. Unbidden and unwanted, but real as though he was living them again. The climatic hours before their first kiss, a bomb collar that was liable to explode, dangerous men bent on avenging a murdered family member, and Jules in the middle of it all, along with Spike, refusing protective gear to keep the endangered woman calm.
Another blisteringly hot summer's day that recalled memories of Kandahar. Sam, Ed, Greg, and Wordy were called back to the station to protect a depressed and hanuted man from himself, leaving Spike, Lou, and Jules with a mysterious and potentially lethal suitcase. Sam's thoughts had not left her once throughout that entire call, and he hadn't been able to breathe normally until they'd recieved word that the "bomb" had been no more than hay and grass.
Barely a week later, after another night together, they were called to diffuse a domestic situation. How fiercely determined Jules had been to smash through the skylight and disarm the volatile woman wielding a bloodstained knife. Negotiation was not Sam's thing, not at all. But as long as Jules was willing to put herself in such danger, he would keep talking to the subject if it meant she stayed out of harm's way.
"Boss I can see it, you're not seeing it, Sam's not seeing it, I can see it. We can be in there in 3 seconds, we'll disarm her. The knife is down, repeat the knife is down."
Her voice played in his mind as clearly as if she's just spoken the words.
And in the moment where she did drop into the room to contain the subject and hostage, he'd held his breath and closed his eyes until Spike confirmed that no team members had been hurt. As they primed drywall together that night, he couldn't recall ever being as thankful for someone as he was now...
Had it only been this morning - no, yesterday morning, it was 1am now - that he had been playfully arguing with her about Santorini Sky in the stockrooms only to have Sarge walk onto the scene and calmly inquire about the state of Jules' home renovations. That particular moment had been almost as scary as being in physical danger.
But damn, he could still feel her finger rubbing the spot of blue paint off his ear...that was the moment, perfect and spontaneous, that he'd chosen to tell her something he never thought he'd hear himself say.
I love you.
I love you, Julianna Callaghan.
I love you so much and I couldn't live without you.
"Don't leave me, Jules...please don't leave me here..."
He slowly crumples onto the bed beside her, sobbing.
So far away
Been far away for far too long
So far away
Been far away for far too long
But you know, you know, you know
I wanted
I wanted you to stay
Cause I needed
I need to hear you say:
I love you
I have loved you all along
And I forgive you
For being away for far too long
So keep breathing
Cause I'm not leaving you anymore
Believe in
Hold on to me and never let me go
Keep breathing
Hold on to me...never let me go
Hold on to me...never let me go
Well, this story is officially complete! It was supposed to be a oneshot...then a twoshot...then what the heck I'll just make it a threeshot...but it is actually finished now. If I can get off my lazy ass I'll finish Clear To Fire and write more FP stuff!
Review. Or get Scorpio'd. :)
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How do you stay so fresh?
I think cool thoughts.
*Roxxy,
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