Later that day, Jules woke up again, and this time she felt much stronger. Sam was still at her side, but not lying next to her one the bed. Several members of the team had come back to check on her, so he was sitting in the chair by her side, still holding her hand tightly.

"You're looking better this morning, Jules," Sarge commented, handing Sam a cup of Tim Horton's coffee. The younger man accepted it gratefully. He was fighting sleep like a baby.

"I feel better, Sarge," she replied, smiling weakly. "I got some good rest."

"Well, you were in good hands," he remarked. "Sam looks like he's the one who got shot."

Jules smiled, but Sam winced and squeezed her hand tighter. He felt keenly the impact of the incident. He felt as though it was his fault—as though he'd failed to protect her, which wasn't true, of course.

"Has the doctor been by this morning?" Spike wanted to know, leaning against the doorframe.

"The nurse said he'd be by within the hour," Sam replied. He had paid attention every time nurses came into to change the IV or check Jules' vitals. The blood transfusion had been through a few hours ago and Sam was glad they had finally taken that away.

Not an hour later, an older man in a white lab coat came into the room. "Hello," he greeted them. "I'm Doctor Mathison. How are you doing, young lady?" he asked Jules.

"I'm feeling better," she told him. "Just sore. My side hurts when I move."

"That's the stitches and the bullet actually fractured a rib, so that's gonna be pretty painful for a while. I cleaned the wound very well, but we'll keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn't get infected."

"How long will I have to be here?" Jules inquired. She loathed hospitals with every molecule of her body.

"A couple of days at the most. Once we see how the wound's healing, then we'll decide if you need to stay longer," the doctor informed her.

Jules nodded, resting her head back against the pillow. She felt like someone had taken a baseball bat and delivered a stunning, mind-numbing blow to her back. It wasn't a comfortable sensation. The entire incident was still somewhat hazy actually. She vaguely remembered Sam figuring out that what they had seen was a decoy and then that loud, piercing shot had rung out. Jules remembered falling to the ground and lying there, unable to move or think really.

She faintly recalled hearing Sam's voice, frantic and anxious. She glanced over at him. He was discussing her condition with the doctor, but he looked like hell. His blonde hair was messy from where he'd slept on it and she could see tiny little specks of blue in it. He must have been through a lot in the last twelve hours.

What Jules really couldn't over was the barely there memory of Sam talking to her. He had been crying softly and stroking her forehead, telling her that he should have protected her. She tried to think back, but she couldn't ever remember a time when Sam, her Sam, had cried.

Two days later, Jules was released from the hospital with instructions to take it easy for at least a week. Sgt. Parker had already assured her that she would be able to take off as long as she needed to recover and Sam was on a two-week post-shooting suspension, merely as a formality, not because he had done anything wrong. It was standard procedure.

"I really don't need the wheelchair," Jules insisted as Sam pushed her to the curb, accompanied by a nurse.

"It's hospital policy, Jules," Sam told her, opening the door of her Jeep for her.

Slowly, she rose up out of the wheelchair, moving very gently. She was still sore and the fractured rib caused her some severe pain. Jules winced and clutched her side.

"You okay?" Sam exclaimed, putting his hand on her arm while the nurse watched the young couple with amusement.

"Yeah, I'm good," she assured him.

When they got to Jules' house, she saw that Sam had already brought home all the bouquets that had been sent to the hospital. A fruit basket was waiting on the dining room table.

"You brought all this stuff over?" Jules asked, walking through the door and looking around.

"Yeah. I figured it was cluttering up your hospital room, so I decided to bring it home last night. I also brought some of my clothes over here," Sam explained.

"Aww, Sam, you don't have to stay over here. I'll be fine by myself.

Sam kicked the front door shut and took Jules' face in his strong hands. "If you think I'm leaving your side for one second, you're wrong," he whispered, leaning in close.

"I love you," she whispered, her lips brushing up against his.

"Me too." Sam pressed his lips against hers and they both sighed blissfully. One of Jules' arms encircled his neck and he lightly put one hand on the good side of her waist, trying not to hurt her.