Here it is! I cried while writing this chapter. It's long, I'm proud of myself! Hopefully you're as moved as I was!

Lochlyn: Muahaha! OOh CPR? I'm so there!
Sam: (runs away)
Me: (chases him)
Enjoy this one xD
I want MORE updates from you too!! :)

Justicerocks: Ahhh any moment when Sam isn't on my mind is an empty moment. My science teacher looked at me funny when she saw me writing SRU on my binder :P They don't understand. When you gotta write SRU on something, you gotta write SRU on something!
Too late. I already hunted the rock down, smashed it with a hammer, melted it, let it cool, and put it in a box and mailed it to someone I hate. xD You keep updating fast, and I will too!

And guess what else, I got a beta fish and named him Sam the Strategic Response Fish. He can swim through a little hoop. No lie xD.

the song is "Sound the Bugle" by Bryan Adams. I thought it fit perfectly!

Yes, I do own Flashpoint. I wrote and directed every episode, and I eat dinner with David Paetkau frequently. Or at least I did...then I woke up, and I was still locked in a room with my phsycotic art teacher. Maybe next time...


--

Sound the bugle now - play it just for me
As the seasons change - remember how I used to be
Now I can't go on - I can't even start
I've got nothing left - just an empty heart

Slowly and unsurely, Sam slowly drifted into of consciousness early the next morning. At first he was entirely numb. He wasn't sure if he was alive. Had to struggle to remember who he was, but could recall nothing beyond that. Painfully slowly, sensation began flow through his body again. He was lying in a bed, he realised. The soft warm blanket felt comforting against his limbs, which he realised were aching, although why, he did not know. Something scratchy was wrapped tightly around his right arm, and beneath the bandage, there was a distinct throbbing, stinging pain.

And there was a hand, Sam suddenly realised, gently stroking has face, and gliding its fingers smoothly through his hair...Must be one of his buddies playing a joke.

He felt his lips move, and heard his distant voice say quietly, "Dude, stop touching my head..."

And a second voice which did not belong to him, murmured

"Go back to sleep, Sammy."

"Mom?" he whispered incredulously, but did not hear her reply, for unconsciousness drifted over him like fog.

I'm a soldier - wounded so I must give up the fight
There's nothing more for me - lead me away...
Or leave me lying here

The pain was worse the second time Sam awoke. His arm felt like it had been ripped open again, and his head felt like it was being pounded with a sledgehammer, and he felt weaker and more tired than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Opening his eyes, he realised he was lying on his back and staring at the familiar greenish-gray ceiling of his room at Base Camp 22. But why he was lying here in pain was a mystery. Slowly, he worked up the energy to turn his head sideways. It was dark, but he could make out a person, sitting on a chair beside his bed. Sleeping, it seemed. Despite the poor light, he could tell who it was.

"Chris?" Sam said quietly, lifting his good arm and poking his friend in the knee, effectively waking him.

"Sam! You're awake, thank God!"

"What happened?" Sam did not like how weak his voice sounded.

"How do you feel?" Jordy inquired anxiously.

"Fine!" Sam lied. "What the hell happened to me?"

Jordy looked crushed. "You don't remember anything from yesterday? When we were shooting? And then later...with Matt?"

Matt...

Matt.

And everything came crashing back. Every memory, every horrible detail of the previous day came back in a single moment, drowning Sam. The shooting, the fear afterwards, finding Matt bleeding on the floor, Sam trying to carry him out to the ATV, falling, his flesh being sliced open, his head hitting the floor...

Sam bit his lip to keep from screaming.

"Where's Matt?" he asked desperately.

Tears streamed down Jordy's face, and Sam knew he didn't even have to ask.

"He's gone, Sam. I'm so sorry, it was my fault, I wasn't fast enough, I couldn't leave both of you lying there, but I had to, and by the time I got back, it was too late, and-" Emotion prevented him from continuing.

Sam stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe, trying to comprehend.

Sound the bugle now - tell them I don't care
There's not a road I know - that leads to anywhere
Without a light feat that I will - stumble in the dark
Lay right down - decide not to go on

The silence was forever. Finally, Sam managed to get out,

"Which one of us shot him?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter..." Jordy mumbled awkwardly, rubbing his eyes.

"It matters to me. Please, just tell me, I know you know." his voice cracked.

Jordy gulped, then whispered, "It was a .50 bullet, I was shooting with a .40. I'm so sorry..."

Sam closed his eyes. Jordy put his hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault. We were 1500 meters away, there was no way you would have known..."

The words did not comfort Sam. Neither said anything, but both had tears falling from their eyes.

After what seemed like hours, it was Jordy who spoke first.

"Your parents are here, man. Want me to call them in?"

"Not yet..." Sam mumbled without opening his eyes.

"They were in here most of the night. I told them I'd stay with you while they got some rest."

"How are they doing?"

"How do you think?"

"Mom's neurotic and you can't tell what Dad's thinking?"

Jordy smiled humourlessly. "Exactly."

"I'm gonna call them in." Jordy warned him, opening his cell phone. "They were terrified when Raine told them you might have a potentially fatal brain injury."

"Bring it on." Sam said grimly.

Then from on high - somewhere in the distance
There's a voice that calls - remember who your are
If you lose yourself - your courage soon will follow

Barely a full thirty seconds had gone by after Jordy closed his cell phone when the door came crashing open. The form of Lynnea Braddock was framed in the doorway.

"Oh, Sammy!" she wailed, lurching towards him and sitting awkwardly beside on the bed.

Sam flinched and Jordy stood back as she flung her arms around her son and squeezed him as tight as humanly possible. Preditcably, her husband Ryland appeared cool and unflustered, taking a seat on the chair Jordy had been using. After Sam had gently disentangled himself from his mother's grip, he looked at his father. The two briefly made eye contact, but Lynnea grabbed Sam by the shoulders.

"My poor baby. How are you feeling?"

"Fine-"

"Are you sure? You look pale. Have you eaten anything? Do you still have a fever? I'd better check..." Sam felt too miserable to protest as she pressed her hand against his forehead.

Ryland touched his wife's back.

"Lyn, he's 26. If he says he's fine, he's fine. Just let him rest." he advised.

Sam caught his father's eye gratefully as he lay back down. Behind Ryland, he could see that Jordy was escaping out the door.

"He has a concussion and a fever! He has no idea!" Lynnea shot back.

"You squeezing him isn't going to help."

Lynnea glared, but instead of talking back, she grabbed Sam's hand and held it posessively.

"So...how are you feeling?" Ryland asked

"I just shot my best friend, ripped myself open in two places, I have a concussion, I've been unconscious for 12 hours, and apparently I have a fever. I'm going to sleep now." he responded dully. Ryland frowned.

Lynnea did not appreciate this. "But we just got here! We haven't seen you for months, and then we get a call saying that-!"

"Just go away!" Sam's frustration, exhasution, and grief finally won. All he wanted to do was go back to being unconscious.

Sleep came, but it did not bring the escape Sam longed for. Nightmares tortured his subconscious tirelessly. Even when he did wake up, exhaustion and pain made sure that it wasn't long before sleep took him captive again. People were constantly around him, but eventually he lost track of which were really there when he woke up, and which were waiting for him when he fell asleep...

It was night, no moon or stars. Sam was leaning against against the a concrete barricade, looking into the scope of his rifle, waiting to be cleared to fire.

"Braddock, you're clear to fire." came an cold unfamilliar voice. Sam shot. It was louder than normal in the dream. Starngely, the noise scared him, when it never had in real life. Yet he kept pulling the trigger, driven by some terrifying force, unable to stop. He yelled incomprehensibly, but there was no one near. Then he heard a scream that was not his own. At the same moment, the field before him was lit with a gruesome red light. A lone figure was lying about a hundred meters away. Sam ran to it. Matt lay face down, blood streaming from his head. He was dead, but Sam could still hear him screaming.

"You killed me!" Matt's agonized voice echoed inside Sam's head. "You killed me!"

Sam was frozen. Even if he'd known what to say, he wouldn't have been able to move his lips.

"You killed me!" The voice was all around him now. He turned. Matt, Jordy, Dave, Dunbar, Ryland, and Lynnea stood on the dark red sand before him, each covered in blood...

Sam awoke at last to the sound of his own sobbing.

So be strong tonight - remember who you are
Yeah you're a soldier now - fighting in a battle
To be free once more -Yeah that's worth fighting for


Sam: That was mean!
Me: (hugs him) The worst is over. Mostly...
Sam: (hides)

Well, between mine, SarahKathryn's, and Justicerock's fics, Sam is not having a very good week! As his mom would say, "Poor Baby..."

Did you like my version of his parents? Was his mom a bit too crazy? I thought she was kinda like me...or what I'd do if I was there with poor Sam...Anyway!

Revieeeeeeew and I'll update faster ;)
--