S1E7 He knows his brother

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Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint or any of its characters.

Jules wanted to say something else snappy at her teammate who was sitting oh-so-relaxed in his chair while she and the rest of the team were working to clean up. However, him bolting upright kind of took the wind right out of her sails. She watched as he reread something again, and then stalked out of the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

She and Ed shared a glance before going over to the newspaper. She nodded, indicating she would handle it, and went to go find the rookie.

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Whatever she was expecting when she went to talk to Sam, it wasn't what she found out. Not going to the procession, just because he killed himself? Jules really didn't think that someone deserved to be rejected just because they didn't have the strength to make it through life anymore.

Though Sam had said he wouldn't go to the procession, his exact words if she recalled were "You give up like that, you don't mean anything to us anymore" she had a feeling that the former soldier wouldn't really ignore his friend's procession.

Her theory was proved correct as she sat in her car off the highway, binoculars to her eyes. She had come early to find the best vantage point, and now she almost wished she hadn't, just so Sam could have the privacy to cry without anyone watching. She didn't know what to do, didn't know how to help but something inside of her needed to do something. Watching Sam break down like this was heartbreaking, and there wasn't a single thing she could do to make it better.

She remained on the road long after the procession had passed, long after Sam had left, trying to figure out what she could do to help her teammate. Finally, she knew there was only one thing she could do, even if it didn't work or help in any way.

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Sam glanced up as someone knocked on his apartment door. He debated whether he should just let the person knock until they thought no one was home, but finally sighed and got up. Could be someone important, though he couldn't fathom a guess as to who.

Jules Callaghan standing at his door, one hand raised to knock again was definitely not anywhere near who he thought would be here. "Jules? We get called in?"

He thought he had his phone turned on again, but he might have forgotten to actually do it after going to the highway. He couldn't really remember, but…no, it was on and there were no calls. He looked again to his teammate who had accepted his offer to come in. "What are you doing here, Jules?"

She held up the bag she had brought in with her; her peace offering. Inside was a six-pack. "I thought you might want to talk."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Didn't see the reaction you wanted to at the highway?" he finally asked. He half-smirked at her confused expression. "I was in JTF-2, Jules. Taking in your surroundings is part of the job. I know you were there." He turned around and headed to the couch. "You didn't even try to change your car."

"Sorry," Jules said softly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She offered him a beer, and couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when he accepted. She sat on the other end of the couch and pulled her legs under her. "Did you want to talk about it at all?"

When she had first met Sam, she thought he was cocky and arrogant, would say whatever came to mind because he thought he was always right. This quiet, introspective side of him was not what she would have expected.

"We always said that suicide was the coward's way out," he finally said. "You do that, you mean nothing to us. But he was my friend. I can't just… I can't turn away from him just because he was the one who pulled the trigger. He was one of my best friends."

"Sometimes," Jules said carefully, "the world just gets too heavy for some people to carry when they feel like they're all alone. Sometimes—"

"Sometimes the amount of times you pull the trigger and take lives is too much to live with," Sam interrupted her quietly. Jules didn't say anything as he continued. "Your job is to save lives, Jules. That's always been your job. But mine—his? Our job was to take them. And after a while, you either get so used to it that you don't feel anything anymore, you get out, or it gets to the point where its going to overwhelm you to the point that you can't do anything anymore. That's how it was for me. It seemed like there were only those three options for me, for my teammates, for everyone I knew. I was one of the ones that got out.

"Don't get me wrong, though," he added quickly when she was about to speak. "I was fighting for my country and I am proud of that. But I was also so tired of all the lives that I kept taking. I needed a change of pace. I needed to see if I could be any good at saving lives, maybe be better at saving them than I was at taking them."

"If it makes any difference, I think you're getting the hang of it. You did pretty good today, for example."

He smiled softly. "Thanks."

She nodded towards the TV. "Mind if I stay and watch the game?"

"Yeah, why not. I've got pizza coming, if you like pepperoni."

She smiled and got more comfortable. "Sounds great."

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