"Well, that should do it…" Jules said, surveying her handiwork. She thought she had done a decent job of converting her non-sleeper sofa into a sleeping-conducive surface. Heck, she'd even given Sam her own comforter and put the grey throw onto her bed.

Sam looked at the couch slightly doubtfully, then turned and plopped himself down onto it, fully clothed. He bounced slightly, shrugged, and then gave Jules a thumbs-up gesture.

"It'll definitely do," he concurred, standing up again.

Both stood and looked at the bedded-down couch for a moment. Both tried not to think of the fact that in all the times Sam had slept at Jules's house, the couch had not been the place he'd spent the night. Both failed miserably at that little exercise.

"I appreciate your staying here," Jules said slightly stiffly, turning towards her kitchen. "Beer?"

"I think I've had enough beer for today," Sam said, now sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the sofa. "Late-night television?"

Jules paused, then turned back. "Sure." She sat down on the blue recliner in the corner. Sam reached over for the remote and flipped on Jules's TV set. Bright promotional images of air-freshener filled the screen, and Sam spent the next few minutes laconically flipping through sixty-five channels before clicking the set off and tossing the remote aside. He turned to look at Jules for her input as to the evening's entertainment, but she wasn't looking at him at all – she was looking at the window apprehensively, as if expecting it to impulsively blow out, or perhaps to see a T-Rex through it.

"Jules."

She jumped. "Yeah?"

"You're really quiet tonight."

She shrugged uncertainly. "I'm thinking," was all she could come up with.

"Want to share?"

"Not really."

Sam nodded his acceptance and leaned across the rug to fetch the remote from where he'd dropped it.

He wouldn't have done that a few weeks ago, Jules mused, watching him turn back to the TV and flip it on again. He would've kept probing until I talked… or got mad.

Sam turned the TV off once again and leaned back against the couch.

He's changed, Jules realized suddenly. He's… he's much more… it's almost like he cares more about what I want than what he does. She studied her partner with a newfound respect. Wow. Never met one of those before. That's – that's really something.

Oblivious to his sudden elevated status in Jules's eyes, Sam heaved himself to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. When he reemerged, he was dressed in his comfortable pajama pants and what looked like a brand-new pajama top. He pirouetted for Jules's inspection, then said amiably, "I bought the pajama top for your benefit."

His announcement drew a slight giggle from Jules, who found her feelings towards her house guest to be much warmer after her newfound discovery as to his personal priorities.

Sam looked gratefully surprised at Jules's reaction. He sat down on the sofa-turned bed and said casually, straightening the comforter, "It's been a while since I've made you laugh."

"That's probably been more my fault than yours," Jules admitted.

"I was getting worried." He stretched out on the sofa and folded his arms behind his head.

"Don't be."

"No?" He looked up at her searchingly. "You haven't been yourself for the past several days."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." It was his turn to say it. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Even for biting your head off whenever I get the chance?"

"Well, I'll admit that's not my favorite thing, but –"

"Why do you bother?" Jules asked suddenly.

"What?" Sam lifted his head from the pillow and surveyed Jules with puzzlement.

"Why do you bother with me?" She was leaning forward, looking at Sam soberly.

"Bother with you? I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"I broke up with you," Jules said, unconsciously beginning to twist her hands in her lap. "Our relationship is over - it's not coming back. But you're still here. You know this isn't – this isn't leading to anything. We're not – going anywhere. So why do you still bother with me?"

Sam sat up and leaned forward in an instinctive mirroring of Jules's position. Her hands stilled as she waited for his response, for once neither of them breaking the eye contact they held.

"Jules," Sam said softly, his eyes searching hers. "I'm here because I love you."

Whatever she had been bracing herself for, it wasn't this. Her eyes widened in confusion and she stuttered, "But we're – we're not – this isn't going –"

"I know." His voice was gentle and understanding.

"So why – "

"I love you, Jules. I'd take a bullet for you any day. I wish – I wish I could have, that time. I'm here because I care about you. Jules, as long as you want me to be here I'm not leaving you. And when – when you do want me to leave, I'll go, I will. But if you ever need me – I'll be there for you, Jules. I love you."

Jules looked completely bewildered. Sam began to settle back into the sofa, not expecting a response from her. Then, thinking better of it, he looked up to where she was sitting frozen on the recliner.

"Jules?"

"What?" It emerged as a whisper.

"Do you still love me?"

His clear blue eyes searched her face probingly.

Do I still love him? Jules thought dizzily. I did – I did love him, and I suppose – I mean, things got in the way, and work, and life, and I couldn't just give up everything I've worked for to be with him, so we – I ended things, but I never really – do I still love him?

She looked up at Sam, still watching her intently.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I guess I do."

A smile spread across Sam's features, and Jules felt herself smile too. A cozy warmth unlike anything she'd ever known began to spread throughout her entire body, as if emanating from the very pulsing of her heart. She felt – she felt content. The closest thing she could compare it too was the way she used to feel when Sam used to hug her close to him. Now, sitting clear across the room from him, she felt the same intimacy radiating between them. Not that sizzling, crackling electricity she'd so long associated with romantic relationships – this was different. This was the flow of heat that emerges from the car vents on those freezing winter days, that breathes life back into your stiff limbs as you rub your hands in front of it. This was nice.

Jules remained in the recliner for another half hour at least, neither one speaking but both basking in the security of the knowledge of the other's affection. At half past eleven, Jules finally stood up and made her way into her bedroom, quietly wishing Sam a good night as she did so.

Her door clicked shut behind her and she climbed into bed, laying down on her back and releasing a deep breath. The lights of passing cars created shimmering shadows on the ceiling. Flickering shadows… dancing shadows… breathing shadows… and once again, her house was breathing along with her…

"Sam loves me," she told her house earnestly. "He said so himself." The walls hummed blissfully, in tempo with the peace that Jules felt inside. She smiled at their song, and tried to hum along, but the tune was getting faster, and she couldn't keep up. "Slow down," she giggled. "You're humming too fast." But it wasn't her home's humming that was speeding ever faster, she realized - it was the house's breathing... Faster and faster it went, until Jules and her home were gasping for breath.

She stumbled towards the door of her bedroom and threw it open to go to Sam – go to Sam – he said he would always be there – but the sofa was empty and Sam was gone. She turned back to her room, and saw Sam standing by the armoire, and this time she knew what would happen even before he turned around, and tried to scream for him to stop, to stay where he was, but he turned around anyway, and it wasn't Sam anymore. The intruder started towards Jules with a twisted sneer, and the walls were screaming, screaming along with her…