Author's Notes: A little bit (okay a whole of) angst toward the end but hopefully it seems realistic to everything that's happened. Had this played out in my head but not sure it translated as well on paper so I'm feeling a little antsy about it. I'll be interested to hear what you think as always. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and its perspective networks. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission.
Growing Up Too Fast
Chapter 46
Wordy had developed his work routine in the first few months of joining the SRU. Show up early, work out, shower, change into his uniform, be on time for shift briefing. Even after the diagnosis of Parkinson's had forced him to leave SRU and transfer to Guns and Gangs, he hadn't been able to change that routine. Sure he didn't have to wear a uniform now but the rest of his routine remained the same.
So now twenty minutes before his briefing and after an invigorating workout, he found himself standing in front of his locker placing his watch next to his wallet, keys, and cell phone which were already sitting on the top shelf so he could grab his shower. Grabbing his towel and soap, he pushed the metal door mostly shut and made his way into the bathroom. By the time he emerged and was dressing, the rest of his co-workers were just coming in. Though he got along well with his new colleagues, he didn't really consider himself part of a team, at least not like the team he was on at SRU. There Team 1 had been more of a family than anything.
"Hey Wordsworth, you hear about what happened tonight?" Justin asked as he tossed his things in his locker and locked it. "Your girl took care of business big time."
Wordy frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Callaghan. The shit for brains asshole that attacked her earlier this week came back for seconds."
Wordy's heart began to race and the slight tremble in his hands had nothing to do with his diagnosis. Sam and Jules left his house just four short hours earlier and everything had been fine. Jules seemed to be doing so much better. Something had happened after that? Hadn't the couple been through enough? "Is she okay?"
"Compared to the SOB who came after her she's great. A little banged up but from what I've heard about her I doubt she'll miss a day of work because of it. Proved there was a reason they let her shoot the big guns. Put a bullet right between his eyes. Bet the bastard never saw it coming." Justin replied, a hint of awe in his voice.
One of the other guys shook his head. "Quick and easy death was too good for him. She should have incapacitated his ass and then pulled a Lorena Bobbitt on him. Made him suffer the rest of his miserable life knowing he couldn't hurt another woman the way he had intended to hurt her."
"The thing was, it wasn't even that custodian her brother laid into the other day after the attack. The one everyone believed was guilty. It was someone else completely." Justin continued, pointing out the brown clad custodian in the corner of the locker room with his back to them pushing a mop across the floor.
Wordy froze. After Jules's oldest brother had been detained for beating up on the custodian in the wake of what had happened to his baby sister, Wordy had wormed at least part of the full story out of Sam. He was sure there was more than what he'd been told but he could understand his friend not wanting to betray the secrets Jules had confided in him. What he did know was enough to make him keep an extra close eye on the custodian who seemed so affable. He frowned.
"I don't think we should be talking about Jules in front of him." He warned.
Justin laughed. "Relax Wordsworth, he's not even listening to us. He's too involved listening to whatever he's got playing on his MP3 player. See the headphones?"
It was true, Johnny Dawson hadn't even so much as glanced their way while they were talking even as they started to talk about him. Reeling from the information he was hearing, Wordy reached for his phone, needing to hear from a closer source that she really was okay. "Guys, cover for me if I'm late?"
They agreed and he pulled up his contacts on his phone. He skipped both Jules and Sam's names on his list. If even part of what the guys were saying was true the last thing they needed was to have to keep reliving the experience from even well meaning friends. Instead he pulled up Spike's number and called him.
"Spike, it's Wordy. I just heard what happened. Is it true?"
Behind him he didn't see the smile on Johnny's face as he listened to every word that was being said.
- FP - FP - FP -
The clock on the bedside table in Sam's bedroom in his apartment read 1:27. Not that he was paying it any attention. He was propped up against his headboard running the fingers of one hand idly through the dark strands of Jules's hair as she slept. She was lying on her back with her head turned toward him so that the bruised right side of her face lay against a towel wrapped ice pack. Similarly wrapped packs were also strategically placed against her ribs, knee, and ankle. As he watched her sleep, he couldn't be sure if the slight shaking of her sleeping body had to do with any lingering fear from what had happened or because she was simply cold lying underneath all that ice.
It had been a long wait after Jules had returned from having the CT scan to find out the results. A wait that had included a visit from a forensic nurse who had to document Jules's injuries for the police report. A visit that had erupted into a battle of wills between the nurse who wanted Sam to wait in the waiting room while she documented Jules's injuries for the police report and Jules who was just as determined that Sam stayed to the point that she said she'd refused to consent to the procedure if Sam had to leave. The impasse could have gone on all night if Sam hadn't stepped in. He knew the nurse's report would further convince anyone who wanted to question the shooting that it was undeniably self defense. He suggested that he wait just on the other side of the curtain where he wasn't intruding in the investigation but was close enough that he could return if Jules needed him. Neither woman had been particularly happy with the compromise, especially Jules who felt like she gotten the least from the deal, but they ultimately agreed.
When Sam had stepped back in, he could tell Jules was upset. It had taken him several minutes of gentle questioning to find out what was bothering her. She finally admitted that she didn't want to have to spend the night in the hospital but didn't know what would happen if he released her. She couldn't go home, didn't have a way home, and since the forensic nurse had taken her clothes as evidence, she didn't have anything to wear anyway. Sam eased her fears saying that he doubted the doctor would want to admit her even if the scans showed a fracture or two but she didn't have to worry about the others worries. They would stay at his apartment for as long as they needed to and all it would take was one phone call to Ed who was still at the house with Donna and the rest of Team 3 to take care of a ride and a change of clothes. That had appeased her some and after making the call, Sam had settled back on the bed with her as they waited for the results of the scan.
Dr. Victors had returned about ten minutes after that. He was pleased to report that the scan had shown no signs of any fractures. He was quick to warn her though that the bruising she did sustain could hurt just as much and there was nothing he could much he could do medically for that. He recommended rest and ice packs for the next 24 to 48 hours to aid the healing process and offered to write a prescription for painkillers to which Jules had turned down bitterly reminding him that she still had some from her last trip to the ER.
Ed didn't stay after dropping them off at Sam's apartment building. He could tell that Jules was exhausted and didn't need the company. He assured them that Donna had promised to keep him up to date on the investigation and that he in turn would fill them in as well. Sam had kept a supportive arm around her waist as she hobbled inside. He would have offered to carry her but knew she needed to feel independent. Once in the apartment, her exhaustion was obvious as it was almost impossible for her to hold a coherent conversation with Spike and Natalie. Some of her responses had the other three trying hard not to laugh because they made absolutely no sense. He'd carried her to bed once she stopped mid-sentence while answering a question Natalie had asked her. After getting her settled comfortably in his bed, he'd retreated to the kitchen long enough to get ice packs and towels for her injuries. It had been about 11:30 by that time.
Now, a couple of hours later, he was still awake, wrestling with his guilt as he watched her sleep. He was happy that at least so far her sleep had been peaceful. He'd left the lamp on its lowest setting so that the room wasn't completely bathed in darkness and he was grateful for the dim light which allowed him to see even the slightest change in her expression.
His thoughts were twirling in all directions with one important epicenter - Jules. He felt guilty that he'd allowed himself to be led away when his fears all day had been leaving her in the house alone would result in her getting hurt. He felt sick that she'd once again been threatened and had to suffer even the first bruise. He was proud that despite what had to have been a terrifying experience, she'd been able to fight back and defend herself. But the emotion that most had him wide awake at 1:30 in the morning was worry. Worry that no matter how okay she felt at the moment about taking the life of the man who had attacked her, she would battle doubts in the morning and second guess her every move. Worry that even though there wasn't a chance in hell that any rational thinking person could question that it had been self-defense, some less than rational person would try to make some sort of example of her. Worry that no matter how well-intentioned he was or how much he wanted to support and help her through this, he was going to somehow screw everything up - screw her up in the process. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt her.
She twisted slightly and winced. Sam stilled his hand, waiting to see if she was just shifting position or slipping into a nightmare. Instead her eyes fluttered then opened. "What time is it?" She whispered, licking her dry battered lips to moisten them.
"Late." Sam replied just as quietly. "Or early depending on how you look at it. You okay? Need anything?"
"Feel cold and numb." She admitted.
Sam smiled just slightly. "Yeah, I guess two hours with ice packs up against you will do that."
"Yeah, well, more like cool water packs now anyway. But it was sweet of you to think about them. I don't think I should have let you talk me into taking that painkiller when we first got here. I think it on top of what they gave me in the ER did a number on me."
Sam reached beneath the covers trying to collect the various ice packs, setting them on the nightstand in a pile. "It's worth it if it took care of the pain. Can I get you anything?"
She shook her head and pulled the covers back. "No, hand me the ice packs and I'll put them in the freezer so they'll refreeze before I need them again."
Sam frowned. "I can do that. No sense you having to get out of bed to do that."
"Yeah you could but unless you can pee for me as well, I'll still have to get up. You can warm up my spot of the bed while I'm up."
Reluctantly, Sam handed over the ice packs and watched as she limped out of the bedroom. He was glad to see that she seemed to be walking a little better than she had when they'd first gotten home. It looked like it was more her knee bothering her than her ankle.
Jules unwrapped the ice packs one by one and left the towels on the counter before putting the packs in the door of the freezer. Then she made her way to the apartment's one bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. After taking care of the business that had led her to the bathroom in the first place, she stood at the sink washing her hands being careful not to get the bandages Dr. Victors had wrapped around her wrists to cover up the ugly ligature marks and abrasions left by the cord that had bounded her hands together.
Turning off the water, she looked up into the mirror, sickened by the image reflecting back at her. Her lower right jaw had exploded into an ugly, vicious purple much worse than the way it had looked the last time she brutally got slammed into something. The swelling had gone down in her lower lip from where he'd backhanded her but she could still see the split he'd caused. Dr. Victors had placed a gauze bandage over the cut she'd gotten from the nail on the floor. Injuries that would fade with time but would mark her as a victim for days and maybe weeks to come.
She'd always been more than a little critical about her own looks. Worried that her chin was too pointed and her cheek bones too sunk in for her to be considered anything other than plain. But the person staring back at her currently just plain looked ugly. Why would anyone want to have anything to do with her at all? She thought back to the date night two nights ago when she and Sam had ended up in the shower together. She'd felt his arousal but he hadn't allowed things to progress beyond that. Her heart and her head both knew he'd pulled away because he and sensed her unease and hadn't wanted to hurt her but she couldn't stop that voice of doubt in the back of her mind that suggested that maybe he'd been too repulsed by her and what had happened to want to really be intimate with her.
She tried to push that voice out of her head as being ridiculous but it kept on by reminding her that tonight Sam had barely even kissed her since he'd met her at the top of the stairs. Did he think she was covering up something worse that might have happened? Was he disgusted to think that she'd been that close to being attacked a third time? Did he think she should have found another way of incapacitating her assailant? Had he finally decided she wasn't worth the effort? Tears filled her eyes. She'd battled enough for one day; she didn't have to strength to fight her own inner demons as well.
Turning out the light, she left the bathroom and returned to Sam's bedroom. Initially she thought he was asleep. He was sprawled out on his stomach pretty much over the spot she'd been sleeping on before going to the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, he twisted back to his original position and smiled at her. "I warmed it up as much as I could. Sorry, I didn't realize just how cold four ice packs could leave a bed."
The sweetness of the gesture was too much for her in her current emotional state. She turned back toward the door, hoping he wouldn't see the tears that started down her cheeks. She should have known he was too perceptive because it wasn't anytime before his strong hand cupped her shoulder turning her gently to face him. His other hand reached up to gently wipe away the tears.
"Jules? Sweetheart, what's wrong? Is it the pain? Do you need to take something for it?" She shook her head and he pulled her closer. "Damn it Jules please tell me you aren't shedding tears over that bastard's death. He's not worth it." Again she shook her head. Sam almost growled in frustration. He wanted to help her, wanted to be able to reassure her in whatever fears might be haunting her but he couldn't do it if she wouldn't talk to him. It wasn't that he thought she was purposefully avoiding telling him, but it didn't make it any easier to help her. He took a deep breath wishing for a moment that he could have had just five minutes alone in a room with the man who had put her through all this. He ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. "Jules, sweetheart, whatever it is, it's okay. We'll make it better. It's over with now and he can't hurt you anymore. Anything else we can work through."
After several long excruciating minutes Jules looked up at Sam. "Would you do something for me?"
There was a pleading in her voice he'd never heard before mixed with a little fear that he'd outright say no. Perhaps it was that fear he heard that made him say without hesitation. "Anything."
"Kiss me."
Sam started a trail of light kisses from her left temple down the left side of her face before burying his head in the crease of her neck and kissing her there. She whimpered slightly and pulled back. He looked at her uncertainly.
"No, really kiss me."
His eyes searched hers, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She was only partially letting him be privy to her inner emotions, enough that he could see that it was important to her that he do so but not why. Still, he hesitated. "Jules, your lip…I don't want…"
Her shoulders slumped and she looked away from him. "Funny, you've had your fair share of busted lips playing hockey but it's never stopped you from kissing me before. I guess it's just me…"
She pulled away from him and returned to the bed. Sam wanted to kick himself, realizing she had misinterpreted his reasons for not wanting to kiss her. He joined her in the bed but her back was turned to him. He moved her hair from the back of her neck and kissed her there. "You're right Jules. It is you. I don't want to hurt you. It's different when it's me that's hurt. I'll put up with a little pain if I have to but I don't want to cause you any discomfort, not when you've already been through so much."
"So to hell with what I want. Is that what you're saying? I'm too fragile to take a little pain? That's just great. Thanks."
Sam rose up and leaned over her bringing his lips down over hers, kissing and silencing her at the same time. For a moment she tensed but then relaxed, responding to his kiss as if she was half-starved. She rolled onto her back and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer. Any hesitancy on his own part faded as he recognized the urgency in which she was returning the kiss. There was a desperation in her kiss the likes he'd never felt before. It wasn't like he'd avoided kissing her since the attack; the kisses they'd shared the night he'd taken her to play miniature golf was proof of that. Every time he tried to pull back to give them both the opportunity to breathe she pulled him back to her mouth.
Once it seemed like he no longer breathed air but kisses, the kiss slowly came to an end and she allowed him to pull away. Her lips were once more swollen but it didn't appear that she cared one way or the other. Sam laid down beside her and pulled her gently into his embrace. They didn't say anything as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Sam reached up to caress the left side of her face tenderly. "Jules, don't think I'm complaining because I'm not. Because wow, I mean wow. But can you explain what's just happened here? I can't help but feel like that was more than just a kiss."
For a moment Jules didn't answer. How could she explain the fear that had washed over her in the bathroom? If she professed to feeling ugly and unlovable, Sam would react strongly. He'd go out of his way to reassure her with words that she couldn't be more wrong. But she didn't need to hear him say he thought she was beautiful even if she was bruised. Didn't need to hear him say he loved her. Her heart and mind didn't doubt either of those statements. But at least for tonight, her fears went deeper than her heart or her mind and she needed more than just words, no matter how sincere and heartfelt they were. Finally she took a deep shaky breath, knowing she owed him some sort of explanation.
"I felt… I mean I looked…" Words were failing her. She'd never been good at expressing her feelings or needs; hated to appear weak or needy. His sparkling blue eyes boring into her said he was trying to understand and not to push. She took another deep breath and just plunged ahead. "I needed to feel loved and desired."
Sam nodded. "And did I do that for you? Make you feel loved and desired?"
She nodded softly not really looking at him. Sam sighed. "Your head is nodding yes but I think there's more that you aren't telling me. What is it?"
A warm blush crept into her cheeks. "Make love to me."
Sam closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. Wasn't he just worrying before she woke up about screwing things up no matter how well-intentioned his actions might be? At the same time he felt his body react to her earnest plea. What hot-blooded male could hear the woman he loved make such a request and not find himself instantly hard and willing to comply? At the same time, it was clear that Jules was struggling with some sort of deep seated doubts and insecurities, which was completely understandable given everything she'd been through. She wasn't thinking about her own limitations and comfort. Didn't he owe it to her and them both to be strong when she couldn't? Was there a right answer either way?
"Jules, please don't ask that of me. I want to give in to any request you have for me tonight. But you're asking too much. Kissing your poor battered lips is one thing. It might hurt for the moment but it's not going to cause irreparable damage. Making love to you tonight just might. Even if you hadn't been hurt tonight it would have been too soon. I told you the other night, we would get back what we had and more but we needed to wait until the doctor said it was okay."
Jules frowned. "The forensic nurse checked me tonight when she was collecting evidence. She said it was fine."
Sam's eyes narrowed and he couldn't help but feel hurt. "Jules, I've never known you to lie to me; you might not tell me the whole truth, but never an outright lie. Please don't start now. I was right outside the cubicle. I heard you refuse to have another SAE saying it wasn't necessary."
"Then don't treat me like I don't know my own body. I might not be 100% fully healed but it's not like you would hurt me if you made love to me not any more than kissing me did. I know you would be gentle."
Sam felt like he was negotiating a very sensitive critical incident or worse a mine field. One wrong step and everything was going to blow up in his face. "Okay, let's say for a moment you are healed enough that I wouldn't hurt you. What about the antibiotics you are on? I know some experts question whether antibiotics actually affect the effectiveness of birth control pills but do we really want to take that chance?"
Jules sniffled. "You could wear a condom, that would negate the risk of the antibiotics I'm on. I'm sure you probably still have some in your nightstand from when we first started dating. Please Sam. Tonight, I don't need reasons why we shouldn't. I just need to feel okay; like none of this happened."
Her pleas went against everything he'd tried to tell himself. That she wasn't physically ready for them to be intimate. That him wearing a condom would remind her too much of what had almost happened. His eyes searched hers trying to read what she was actually thinking. Could he really turn her down? Didn't she deserve to have some control over her body and what happened to it? Even if he didn't really think it was right? He cursed himself inwardly.
"Are you sure it's what you really want and not something you feel like you have to do to prove something?"
She nodded. To further prove her point, she reached down and taking the hem of her t-shirt, raised it over her head. The movement jarred her bruised ribs but she hid the grimace of pain knowing that if Sam saw it he would change his mind. Sam reached for the waistband of her shorts and helped her out of them, his eyes never straying from her face so that he could not only see the first sign of distress but to avoid looking at her battered body that said this was completely the wrong time to be doing this. He removed his own clothes and reached into the nightstand for a foil packet. She wanted to make love to him, wanted to feel in control of her life once more. He wanted the intimacy just as much as she did, the current state of his manhood attested to that. That had to make it okay, didn't it?
He looked back at her and knew the answer was no; despite what she was saying, her body was tensed, an equal mix of longing and fear radiating from her eyes. He tossed the still wrapped condom back on the nightstand. "I'm sorry Jules. I can't do this. As much as I want to give you anything you want I can't give you this. Maybe you are ready. Maybe it's not too soon for you but it is for me. I know you trust me; I know you are sure that I won't hurt you but I'm not as sure as you are. Please know that it has nothing to do with not wanting to make love to you. I do more than you can know. I want nothing more than to show you just how much I love and desire you. But I can't do that at the expense of you and what you really need. I can't make love to you while you are hurt. It's wrong on so many levels."
Jules's eyes dimmed. "I get it; I saw myself in the mirror. I guess I can't blame you for not wanting to make love to me."
Sam growled lowly, cursing himself for not being able to make her understand why he couldn't give her what she claimed to want. Instead of trying to reason with her further, he pulled her flush against him so that she had no choice but to feel the swollen throbbing evidence of how much he did desire her pressed against her upper thigh, letting his body tell her what her ears refused to hear.
It worked in more ways than one. She could feel the desire he felt for her without question. But at the same time, in that moment she knew he was right even if she didn't want him to be. She did trust him and she did believe he wouldn't hurt her on purpose but she could suddenly feel herself freezing up and knew that if things went any further she would end up freaking out and pushing him away. She bit back a sob and repeated quietly.
"I just wanted to feel okay again. I thought I could handle more but you're right; I'm just not ready."
"It's okay Jules. You're okay. We're okay. Can you handle this? Me holding you with nothing between us?" She nodded. Sam sighed. "Then tonight that's what we do. Tomorrow we go on from there."
He gently rubbed her bare back and kept repeating his reassurances until she once more fell asleep in his arms. Then he kissed her forehead. Tonight he'd hold her. Tomorrow he had to face the fact that as much as he loved her - because he loved her, he had to admit that he was in over his head.
