A/N: Well now, here's another long chapter, after a long wait. No long A/N this time though, just a thank you to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/following/favouriting :)
The first thing he notices is the smell - the sweet scent of her shampoo as it wafts it's way into his nose. The next thing he notices is the feel - the feel of her beneath his arm, her chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. It all feels so familiar, and he silently prays that what meets his eyes will be just as familiar. He's sorely disappointed when all that meets his eyes is a familiar girl in the room he only knows to be his own because she told him so.
Groaning to himself, he retracts his arm from its position around her and rolls away. He can tell by the slight glow in the room that the sun is up, and decides that's all the indication of the time he needs. Still stiff from his injuries, he drags himself out of bed. He makes a quick stop at the washroom, frowning as he catches sight of the twin bruises on the sides of his head that have graduated to a lovely shade of purple. Passing back through the bedroom, he sneaks a quick look at Jules. It seems the past couple days have finally caught up with her, as she remains sprawled across her side of the bed showing no signs of waking any time soon. He contemplates turning off her alarm so that she can sleep as late as she likes but quickly vetoes the idea - after last night's argument he's not looking to upset her by doing anything he shouldn't.
Wandering into the kitchen he marvels at the fact that he's just slept close to a full 10 hours, and wonders when the last time he did that was. Sure, he'd laid awake for what felt like hours replaying and reviewing the night's events in his mind, but soon enough he gave in to sleep in hopes that the morning would bring a fresh start, and maybe a memory or two. He figures it's looking like the fresh start option is his best shot, although he is intrigued by the sleep habits he seems to have recovered. Though he doesn't know why, and sure as hell didn't do it intentionally, he estimates he spent most of the night with an arm wrapped around Jules. Right now it's the only thing he's willing to accept as proof that his memory might someday return.
She joins him about an hour later, helping herself to some of the coffee he had made before sitting down across the table from him.
He greets her with a nervous smile, quickly returning to the newspaper in front of him. In the interest of keeping things civil, he looks back up at her, indicating the paper. "Is there a section you'd prefer?"
Setting her coffee cup down she thinks for a moment before nodding. "Travel, please."
He cocks an eyebrow, but passes her the section as promised. "Travel?"
She nods, briefly meeting his gaze. "What? Just because I don't have time for it doesn't mean I don't like to read about the places I could go. A girl can dream, can't she?"
He nods to himself, figures she's right and goes back to the sports section. He sneaks quick glimpses of her as she focuses on the articles in front of her. Finally, having worked up just barely enough courage, he clears his throat.
"Listen, about last night..."
She shakes her head, sighing as she lowers her own portion of the paper. "I really don't want to talk about that today, Sam. As it is, I've got 4 years worth of stuff to talk to you about and I have no idea how I'm going to get through it all before dinner. So, if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate it if we could put that on hold, just until tomorrow."
"Ok." He's not about to argue with her. For one thing, he's sure the fact that she's not still raving mad at him after last night is no small victory. For another, she's really the only link to the past four years he has, so to argue with her point would be the equivalent of biting the hand that feeds at this point. "Where should we start?"
"Well, I'm going to start with breakfast. Were you ok finding something to eat today?" she asks, rising from the table.
"Actually I had no trouble finding anything today, but I haven't eaten. I wasn't really feeling like eggs again today and as far as I can remember that's really the only thing I know how to cook," he says with a smile as he follows her to the pantry.
She nods, takes a quick inventory of the shelves in front of her. "Works for me, I was really in more of a waffle mood anyway."
He grins, watches as she collects the necessary ingredients before pulling out the waffle iron he'd stumbled across yesterday while looking for a frying pan. He was sure they only had that as one of those things you buy but never use, or thought that perhaps they'd received it as a gift. "You know how to make waffles?"
He waits until they're both about half finished their breakfast-turned-late brunch before returning to the task of learning the basics of the team. "So, I was thinking we should start with the guests of honour. You said Wordy is with guns and gangs now? What's up with that?"
She smiles, gives a small sigh as she realizes there's no more avoiding the topic. "He was with the SRU up until a little over a year ago, right around the time Natalie showed up but that's really just a coincidence. A few things popped up during our annual re-qualifications, and he was diagnosed with Parkinsons's." She pauses, watches as his face fills with shock, and then maybe horror.
"Parkin- oh my god." He frowns, shakes his head. "That's... He has young kids, does he not?"
She nods. "Three little girls. He's doing well, has got it under control with the medication he's taking. Still, shortly after his diagnosis he moved to guns and gangs. He was worried about how it might affect his performance in the field, so he bowed out, so to speak."
Sam shakes his head, continues to frown. "But if he's got it under control why would he have to leave?"
She gives a small smile, nods. "That's what I thought, but he was pretty set on leaving so there was nothing we could say. Besides, I think he might be better off. From the sounds of things he's finally got a set schedule, with way less overtime. I'm guessing that's a hit with Shelley and the girls."
He nods his appreciation of this. "Shelley...his wife?"
"Sure is. She's a sweetheart. You love her cookies. I'm pretty sure those are the one of the main reasons you willingly come with me to babysit the girls." She grins, clears the table, before moving the conversation to the living room sofa. "That brings me to the next thing you'll need to know. Wordy has three daughters: Lily, Sara, and Allie. Lily shouldn't be too hard to recognize: she's the tallest, 8 years old, and looks just like her dad. Plus, she loves ladybugs, so she's always got one on a necklace or bracelet so that'll be a dead giveaway right there. Sara is 6, and looks just like Shelley; the only blonde in the bunch. Not quite as tall as Lily, but a lot more talkative." When he smirks she shakes her head. "You laugh now, just wait until she hears you lost your memory. She'll never stop talking."
He grins, nods as he makes a mental note that if things get too awkward with the adults he can at least have a lively discussion with a six year old. "What about Allie?"
Jules grins, shakes her head as she sits back against the arm of the sofa to face him. "Allie has you whipped."
"Excuse me?"
"She's three and a half, yes, you do need to know the 'and a half', and you're easily her favourite SRU uncle. She tells you so every time we see her, and I'm pretty sure that's why you can't bring yourself to be anything but a sap when she's around."
"Ok, now I know you're lying. I'm not a sap."
She snorts, shakes her head. "You're totally a sap. Whenever we babysit I have to play bad guy and tell her when it's bedtime because you can't handle the disappointment on her face when you say it's time to stop playing dolls."
He shakes his head, shrugs, and speaks up in his own defence. "Who can say no to a 3 and a half year old?"
Jules smiles, not the least bit annoyed by the fact that Sam can be so whipped by a small child. "I think that about covers the Wordsworths. Who next?"
"How about we start at the top? The boss."
She nods, takes a sip of her coffee. "The boss... wooo I'm not sure where to begin with him." She pauses a moment to think, before launching into it. They talk for hours, successfully missing the greater portion of the day. She tells him about the return of Dean to the boss' life, thankful that Sam does appear to remember hearing about how they were estranged so she doesn't have to list off their entire history. She tells him about Marina, and about the changes in their sergeant's behaviour since meeting her.
Next she covers Ed, including a quick review of who Sophie is and their son Clark. She tells Sam about Izzy, the newest Lane, and, because Sam feels the need to ask her whether or not he and Ed get along, she briefly covers Ed's shooting and how it lead to Sam's role as co-team leader. She easily laughs at the shock on his face, recalling the cocky rookie who'd walked into their lives way back when.
She reminds him of Spike, lays out the most recent changes in his life - his father's passing, his mother's move to Italy, and his move in with Natalie. She reminds Sam that he does in fact approve of Spike, and warns that he'll have to tolerate them as they share a table later that night. Sam smiles as she tells him about Natalie's newfound career path, and fights off the urge to call her in a moment of brotherly pride.
Jules gives a quick intro to Raf with the help of a photo from their most recent team picnic, explaining that he took Wordy's spot and has fit in pretty well, for a rookie.
"So yeah, I'd say that about covers it. At least what you'll need to know for tonight. We should start getting ready,"she tells him, moving from her spot on the sofa to return her coffee mug to the kitchen.
He follows her out of the room, his expression quickly turning to confusion. "Wait, Jules," he calls after her as she ascends the stairs, his own coffee mug all but bouncing off the bottom of the sink as he tries to catch up. "Jules? What about Lew?"
When she stops at the top of the stairs, just outside of their bedroom and turns to face him, he can't help the feeling of dread that rises in his stomach at the mention of the name. He's not sure why, but somehow he already wishes he could retract the question.
"He won't be there," she says softly, waiting a moment before continuing into the bedroom.
"Why?" He's not sure why he keeps asking these questions - his stomach's reaction, along with the expression on Jules' face, should have been enough warning to drop the subject.
In her position in front of the closet where she's begun digging out his suit, she stops, sighs to herself but doesn't turn to face him. "I can't talk about that right now, Sam. When we get home after dinner, I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know, but for now, can we please, please just not talk about why?"
He's more curious than ever, yet her pleading halts his questions. Instead, he accepts the suit she hands him, along with the white dress-shirt that follows. Without hesitation - because he's come to the conclusion that she's already seen everything there is to see - he drops his pyjama pants in exchange for the pants to his suit. Jules follows, piling her own clothes for the evening on the bed. Between buttons on his shirt he sneaks a peek as she loses her shirt and puts on her dress.
"Um, do you mind?"
He jolts, blushes as he stammers to respond. "Oh, I'm sorry I-"
"The zipper, Sam. Could you give me a hand?"
"Right." He helps her with the back of her dress, consciously making an effort not to stare, before going back to his suit. "Am I supposed to wear a tie to this thing?"
She nods, tosses him one from the closet.
"Purple?"
"To match my dress." She smiles, then adds, "you picked it out, not me."
He smiles to himself, and expertly ties the light purple tie.
Walking from the car to the restaurant, they meet up with Ed and Sophie. They make polite small talk as Ed whines about his suit and Sophie asks Sam how he's been feeling.
"A lot better, thanks Barbara." When Sophie pales, he grins, tells her he's only joking and that he does in fact remember her. Jules rolls her eyes, but laughs, grateful that Sam doesn't seem to be as nervous as she thought he might be about the dinner.
Entering the occasion room at the back of the restaurant, the four marvel at the crowd already mingling in the room.
Ed raises a brow. "Who knew the Wordsworths had so many friends?"
"Hey guys!" Wordy greets with a grin, joining them at entry way. Shelley follows behind him, offering quick hugs in greeting.
"We were just commenting on the crowd," Jules informs him. "Guessing they're all your friends?" she asks Shelley.
"Nah," she shakes her head, smiling. "Those two are friends of Kevin," she tells them, indicating a table where Spike and Natalie are watching them, waving obnoxiously.
"Don't pin those two on me," Wordy grins, wrapping an arm around his wife. "We should get back to the mingling thing. Make yourselves comfortable."
Never the type to argue with the guests of honour, Sam and Jules make their way to their assigned table – a small table for four near the dance floor, where Spike and Natalie await them.
Midway across the room though, they're ambushed. One tiny, frilly, pink tornado cuts them off.
"Hi Sam! Hi Jules!" The littlest Wordsworth grins, waving frantically.
"Hi Allie! Wow, that's a pretty dress," Jules replies.
"Thank you, Mommy made it." She smiles, and adds a twirl on the spot to show off the dress. Looking at Sam, Allie takes on a thoughtful expression. "Daddy say you hurted yourself."
"He's right," Sam nods. When she frowns in response he feels the need to elaborate. "But only a little. See?" he asks, ducking to her level and turning his head so she can see the bruises on his face.
"Oo purple! Pretty!"
Jules can't help but giggle, and covers her face in an effort to hide her smile. "I'm just going to go say hi to Spike, will you two be ok here?"
Sam manages a quick nod before Allie starts talking again, instantly taking him by the hand to show him where she's sitting for dinner, so that he can visit, of course.
After dinner, he wanders out to the restaurant's patio, nodding his greeting to her when he finds her sitting on a bench.
She gives a half smile, watches as he contemplates where to sit. When he sits awkwardly at the opposite end of the bench, she gives a near imperceptible nod, noting that he clearly hasn't remembered anything yet. "How are you doing?"
He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair as he looks at her sheepishly. "Had to get out of there. Too many people who hope that if I talk to them they'll be the one to jog my memory and suddenly all will be right in the world."
With another small smile she nods her understanding, taking another sip from her water bottle before returning her attention to the torn and tattered label.
He watches as she picks away the last of the nutrition chart, studying her facial expressions. He finds no sign of frustration, for which he is grateful. It's hard enough not remembering a woman you allegedly love, he can't imagine what it would be like if she weren't so damn supportive. Unfortunately, in the absence of her frustration he manages to pick up on grief, sadness. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat he summons the words to make the effort. If he loves this girl, and he gets the feeling he does, this shouldn't be all one-way between them. "How are you doing?"
The question catches her off-guard, her water bottle plummeting to the patio stones below. With a shake of her head she moves to retrieve the bottle. He reacts just as fast, reaching over in hopes of getting the bottle for her. Their hands tie the race, fingers brushing against each other as he relinquishes the bottle to her grasp.
"Thanks," she swallows, dusts off some of the dirt collected by the sweating bottle. Clearing her throat she returns to his question. "Did you just ask how I was doing?"
He nods, not bothering to meet her eyes as he searches the skyline for something, maybe answers. "I did."
"You don't have to worry about me. I'm not the one who almost got blown up."
He nods, smiles at the comment because he figures it's the type of thing that might annoy him if she constantly deflected questions about her own well-being. "I know, it's just… it didn't occur to me until last night what this means for you. It can't be easy living with some guy whose only real memories of you involve loading a rifle into an SUV or a failed pick up line. Did I seriously try to pick you up at a retirement party?"
Jules gives a half-hearted smirk. "Sure did."
He shakes his head in shame. "Well, I sure hope I improved in the romance department."
"You do alright."
"Good. Anyway, it just hit me last night after you left that you've been so good about looking after me, and I don't have a clue who has been looking after you."
She nods slowly, considering what he's said. "Well… thank you for… asking, I guess." She pauses, considers changing the subject. She can't be sure if he's only asking to be polite, or if he actually wants an answer. Sure, she appreciates what he's saying, appreciates the effort he's putting forth, but the questions won't leave her. Would it matter if she answered? What would he even say if she told him? If he doesn't remember 99% of their relationship, is he really even her Sam? "Its pretty lonely."
She doesn't need to look at him to know he's as surprised as she is that she answered the question. He wants to shrink in on himself, hide in some kind of corner so he doesn't have to watch as she blows out a breath and rearranges her bangs on her forehead. With another deep breath he thinks he catches her swat away a threatening tear. He produces a guilt ridden sigh and casts his eyes downward. "I'm so sorry Jules…"
She shrugs, rises from the bench, straightening the hem of her dress. "Nothing to be sorry for, Sam. None of this is your fault. Listen, I'm going back inside. They should be doing cake soon and I've got to make sure a certain someone's hair stays free of icing. You coming?"
"I'll be in in a few." He watches as she nods and makes her way back inside. With a groan, he tosses his head back to catch a quick view of the stars before closing his eyes in thought. He can remember his parents, his sister, his police academy graduation. He can remember the first time he left for Afghanistan, the first time he came home, and his graduation parade at the end of basic training. Like any good soldier he's got his social insurance number memorized, along with his badge number, and for some reason the email password he clearly only created after he and Jules got together. Hell, he can even remember his first ever date – with Becka Lynn Brennan, in 8th grade – but he still can't remember the girl he bought the ring for.
"Now that the party is over, can we talk about yesterday?"
From the driver's seat Jules sighs, shrugs in reply. "I'm sorry I went off at you."
Sam adds a shrug of his own, looking at her from his position in the passenger's seat. "You don't need to apologize for that. Like I said earlier, I got so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't even think about how this must be affecting you, and I'm sorry for that."
She nods, but doesn't turn to look at him.
He waits, hoping for more of a response, sighing when he doesn't get one. "I'd like to make you a deal."
One eyebrow rises and she grants him the questioning look he's been seeking. "What kind of deal?"
Sam smiles, sits up a little straighter with the excitement behind his idea. "I'll work on the selfish Sam thing, but you have to promise to tell me when I'm failing at that, and you have to tell me when things are getting to you."
"I think I can do that," she nearly whispers.
"There's more," he grins, nods when she shoots him another questioning look. "We date."
"Excuse me?" she laughs, shaking her head at the idea.
"You heard me. We date, and you tell me all about our relationship from before. Look, I want my memory to come back as much as you do, maybe more. And if and when my memory does come back, I'll gladly apologize again for all the stupid things I've done, and will do, as a result of not being able to remember. It's the if part that worries me…"
She squints, pulls the jeep to the side of the road. "Let me get this straight: you want to date me because you think there's a possibility that you'll never remember me?"
"It sounds dumb when you say it like that." He shakes his head, tries to reorganize his thoughts. "It's just…" he pauses to sigh before offering a shrug. "I get the feeling you meant-mean-I don't know… a lot to me, and I don't want to lose that just because some ice cream decided to knock the memories out of my head. I just think maybe we should start at the beginning, instead of just waiting for something that might never happen."
"Ok." With that, she pulls the jeep back onto the road, continuing the trip home.
"Ok?"
"Ok, I'll date you." She gives him a small smile, her expression fading as she catches his grin.
He studies her, waits for details. "But?"
"But, I'm not just going to sit you down and tell you the whole story of us. I'll tell you a little bit each day if you really want to know that badly, but not all at once."
He nods, considers what she's saying. "Fair enough."
After making plans to stop by the home repairs store first thing in the morning, the two get ready for bed. Pyjama clad and sleepy eyed, they stand at opposite ends of the bed and pull down the covers together. Discarding extra pillows at the side of the bed, they settle in for the night. Sure, it's not as comfortable as it should be, but with their new agreement in mind some of the awkwardness begins to dissipate.
After saying goodnight and turning out the lights, the two lay in bed in silence. Jules replays the night with the Wordsworth family, wondering what that must be like, and if she and Sam stand a chance of having that given their latest obstacle. Sam wonders what will happen if he falls asleep – will he wake up with his memories back? Will he wake up with an arm around her out of habit again? Still, there's one question that nags him more than the rest.
"Jules?"
"Hmm?"
"What happened to Lew?" he whispers, swallowing hard. He hears her take a deep breath, then waits in silence, wondering if she'll actually tell him. He's not sure he wants to know the details, considering what he's been able to glean from her response to the question earlier in the day.
"A few years ago we responded to a bomb call."
His eyes widen against the darkness as he waits patiently for her to continue.
"Environmentalists planted three bombs, and called them in. The first one detonated as we got on scene, but no one was injured. The second took some time, but Spike was able to disarm it." She pauses, a shuddering breath escaping her lungs. "Thing is, we had to split up to get to all the bombs in time, which meant we had to send Lew to get started on the third while Spike finished with the second one."
On his side of the bed Sam stiffens. He's got a pretty good idea of where this is going and is sure he doesn't want to hear the rest. He's about to tell her he can fill in the rest when she continues.
"But the guy who set this last bomb, he was a real piece of work. So he set the last bomb, and then set a series of landmines around it." As her voice cracks she clears her throat, unsure of whether she should continue. "Spike… he was so determined to get Lew out of there. He was so sure that if he could just think a little harder, try a little harder, he could save Lew, that when Lew stepped off he just… well, we all just…"
"We had to watch." Sam clenches his eyes shut, willing himself not to curse in horror at what she's told him. The silence returns as they both fight to regulate their breathing, teeth gritting on one side of the bed as hands plead with eyes not to tear on the other. "I um… I mean I'm sorry that… I wish I…"
"I know." She nods to the darkness. "Listen, it's been a really long day. Let's get some sleep, we can talk more in the morning."
He nods, adding his agreement verbally with the realization that in the dark of their bedroom she cannot see him. He lays in the dark thinking about what she's told him – wondering how close he and Lew were at the time, wondering how that didn't send him running from the SRU. He was sure he had escaped such horrors when he left the army. He has so many more questions – how long was this after he joined the team? Did the team have to find a new member? How did that go over? What about Lew's family?
His thoughts are interrupted by the soft sounds from the opposite side of the bed. At first he wonders if maybe she just breathes incredibly loudly when she's sleeping, a theory quickly set aside as he thinks back to that morning when he'd woken up before her. A small sniffle confirms his suspicions and he frowns, feeling a pang of guilt over having brought up the discussion of Lew right before bed.
He can't explain why he does it. Maybe it's because he feels sorry for her, maybe because he feels miserable for making her go there. Maybe it's because he doesn't know what else to do, but he does it. Reaches one tentative hand over to her shoulder, and with the smallest of tugs invites her. She quickly accepts, rolling over to bury her face in his chest. Exhaling deeply, he wraps his arms around her.
