A.N. Thank you for all your comments! As always, they make my day. And in return, here's the next chapter! Which answers the question of who was in the doorway :)

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It took Ed half a day to convince himself to go see Sam now that he was actually awake and coherent. He told himself it was to give Sam time to adjust and to rest, to give others the opportunity to see him, but he knew it wasn't for Sam's sake that he stayed away; it was for his own. That could not be made clearer to him than when he arrived at the threshold of Sam's room, stood in the doorway, and could not enter.

Jack Rivers noticed him immediately, but didn't give his presence away, for which Ed was grateful, because it allowed him the time to process why he couldn't seem to set foot inside the room. And as he listened to Jack talk with Sam, he was grateful for the insight the other man was giving him; he heard Sam admit that he was considering not coming back to the SRU, and when Jack's gaze shift to meet Ed's own in a challenge, first a look at what you've done, and then later as a you have the opportunity here to make this right. Don't screw it up, he had to look away. He'd known that the thought of not returning had to be crossing Sam's mind, as he and Spike had discussed, but to hear it confirmed aloud from Sam himself, it made Ed's stomach twist and increased the weight of guilt that was already present on his shoulders.

When Jack walked out, he clapped Ed on the shoulder gently, as if aware of the weight settled there, before departing down the hall. Given Jack and Sam's final exchange, Ed had a pretty good idea that Sam had figured out he—or someone—was here, and yet he could not move into the room. The more time passed—seconds, a minute—the worse it got, as Sam remained silent, with his head turned away from Ed. Ed didn't imagine Sam was deliberately ignoring him in a petty way, more likely he was giving him the space to process and come in on his own time, which he clearly needed.

What are you doing, you idiot?! Get in there, now's your chance to try to start fixing things! You've been waiting for this for more than a week! Sam's awake, you can actually talk to him!

And there, Ed finally realized, lay the heart of the issue. He finally had the opportunity to try to fix things, to say aloud to Sam everything he needed to, when Sam could actually hear him… and he was terrified. Because this time, if it didn't work, it wouldn't be because Sam just didn't remember or was unconscious and not listening. Because this time, Ed could actually screw it up. Because this time could be the last time that counted. The last time Sam gave him a chance.

But you owe him this. It may be hard, it may not go the way you want, but he deserves this from you.

He stepped into the room.

Making his way around the bed, he saw Sam's eyes flick to him the moment he stepped into the other man's peripheral vision, and no surprise flashed across his face, confirming Ed's suspicions that Sam had known he was there. Ed was also pleased to see that there was no trace of the guilt or the apologies that had streamed from Sam when he woke wildly, disoriented and terrified as he tried to make sense of a world that was so different from the one he'd left when consciousness fled as the bullet struck his head. Ed was pleased, because Sam should not be the one saddled with guilt and apologizing, but the one to be apologized to. And if he'd come around to that understanding, whether by his own will, or someone else talking sense into him—Ed suspected Spike—all the better.

"Hey Sam," he greeted softly as he sat down in the chair Jack had just vacated.

"Ed," Sam replied, apparently wary, as if he weren't sure what to expect from Ed.

Which was more reasonable than Sam knew, because Ed himself didn't know what to say. It had been so easy when Sam had been half awake and panicking, because Ed had panicked, too. Then, the words had flowed out of him automatically, without thought: true words, words of apology, words to try to calm Sam. But now, with neither of them panicking, words would not come. Time had become his enemy, for it gave his mind the space to talk himself around in circles and think too hard, too worried that what he said would be the wrong thing.

Where to start? With questions? During Libby's dressing down of them, she'd pointed out one of their breakdowns had been in making assumptions and not asking questions. That they should have had the decency to ask. And yes, they should have, but now Ed didn't feel right peppering Sam with questions—it was too late for that. Partly because he already had the answers to the questions he should have asked, but mostly because asking the questions he had left, questions of curiosity—such as how Sam had known Ben was the target, or how he knew Grayes' intentions were suicide by cop—didn't feel right. Because Sam didn't owe him that. Sam didn't owe him anything.

But all that his deliberation was doing was stretching out the silence between them, increasing the awkward tension rather than easing it, as Sam waited patiently.

Finally, Ed let out a breath and dove in. "I'm sitting here like an idiot not saying anything because everything I've thought of to say so far sounds cheap, because nothing can undo what I did, nothing can take back the pain and hurt I know I caused you. So, while I know any words I share now won't undo and will barely measure up to what I did, they're all I can give you," he offered apologetically.

Sam remained silent, expression unreadable, so Ed plowed on. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam, for my inexcusable behavior, for doubting you—not just for doubting you, but attacking you. For making you question your place on this team—no, for making it such that you didn't have a team. I took that away from you for no good reason, and treated you like shit. And instead of supporting you after an incredibly difficult shot, instead I kept you from getting support from anyone, from checking on a team member, because I was spiteful and too blind and pigheaded to see what saving my and Spike's life had cost you."

Surprise flashed in Sam's eyes, before it was pushed away, face once again smoothing to neutral.

But Ed knew what he'd seen. Given what Ed's last conversations with Sam had been before the hospital, it was no shock that the other man might be surprised at Ed's complete one-eighty. That's right, Sam, I know how badly I messed up.

"I let my spite and anger out on you, and I am so sorry. I swear it will not happen again. Never again. And I understand I haven't given you any reason to believe that, because actions speak louder than words, and my actions have been absolutely deafening and horrendous, but… I'm hoping you'll give me—give us—a last chance, though you don't owe it to us."

He stopped there, wanting to give Sam a chance to respond.

Sam was silent a moment, giving nothing away, before, "Can you tell me why?"

"Why? Why I'm asking you to give us a last chance?" Ed clarified. "Because you don't have to—"

Sam cut him off by starting to shake his head 'no,' before he stopped and winced. "I've gotta remember to stop doing that," he muttered to himself, before continuing more loudly, "No, why you and Greg started treating me like…" he trailed off, as if unsure of what word to end that sentence with—Ed could think of a few, but apparently Sam was too considerate to use one—instead, he finished with, "the way you did."

Ed rubbed the back of his head. "God, Sam, no I can't, because then that would sound like I'm justifying or excusing it, and nothing justifies it."

"I deserve an explanation, though, if not a justification."

Ed stopped. Nodded. "Yes, yes you do." He sighed, before continuing, "Spike thinks there have been a lot of little things along the way where we haven't been treating you fairly, and it's been eye opening looking back and critically self-examining. But that day, that day the catalyst was that Greg and I overheard some higher ups talking about you in a way that indicated you were leaving the SRU, and you hadn't told us."

He saw the confusion that Sam didn't even try to hide, confirming what the General had said and what Libby had thought: that there was no way Sam had been considering it when Ed and Greg overheard the chatter, that it had just been hearsay.

Ed nodded. "I know, I now know you weren't," at the time, anyway, "but I didn't then, and I therefore leapt to a lot of conclusions that you didn't deserve. Because first of all, you deserved the benefit of the doubt. Second of all, you deserved to be given a chance to tell us on your own time. And thirdly, you deserved our support if leaving was something you were considering. But I was hurt, because I assumed they were right and that meant you had made this huge life decision without even talking to me about it, and I know how wrong that sounds now," Ed acknowledged, frustrated at himself, "how egotistical it was, but as a friend I was hurt. And I wanted to make you hurt, and you being almost late gave me the perfect opportunity to start paying you back."

Sam opened his mouth then, no doubt to explain why he was late, and Ed quickly held up his hands to stop him.

"No, you don't owe me an explanation, Sam. You didn't then and you don't now. You have earned our trust and respect over and over again, as well as our friendship, and you shouldn't have had to explain. But if we'd been concerned, you deserved the decency of us asking why, of giving you the space to explain if you wanted to, rather than jumping all over you and using it to tear you down when we know you and knew there must have been a damn good reason. We should have asked then, not because we were concerned about your commitment to the job, but because we should have been concerned about you. Hell, Sam, the only other time you've been late or almost late is when you were trapped in a hostage situation, and that should have been a pretty big red flag to us and we should have asked to make sure you were okay. We should have asked. And we didn't. And that's on us.

"And regarding the hostage situation later that day, I demeaned and questioned you purely to hurt you. Once I got my head out of my ass—Spike helped by kicking it a few times—I realized that of course you took that shot. Because you had a split second to act when the gun wasn't pointed at either Spike or me, and even though I was yelling in your ear the wrong thing, screaming at you, you made the right choice. And thank god you'd made that incredible jump across the buildings, Sam, because if you hadn't," he put his face in his hands, "if you hadn't, either Spike or I wouldn't be alive today. And I keep seeing you flash over that alley and fall, and I can't believe that I put you in that position where you had to go to those lengths and imperil yourself, all because I was feeling spiteful. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

There was a long pause, before Sam murmured quietly, "Thank you, Ed. I appreciate the explanation. Though I can't understand it, I can see some of where you were coming from, and your apology and acknowledgement mean…" he trailed off, whether searching for the right words, or trying to understand what he actually felt they meant, Ed wasn't sure. Eventually, though, Sam must have figured it out, because he continued, "Well, I wasn't expecting that, and it means a lot, Ed. It helps."

Ed felt some of the tension ease, both in the atmosphere and in his own body, as the admittance and acceptance of wrong doing settled around them, aired aloud, so they could deal with it and hopefully move forward.

"But," Sam started carefully, and Ed felt the tension return. He kept quiet, though, giving Sam the space to share his thoughts. "Like you said, it doesn't fix everything. I can't just forgive and forget—I'd like to, god would I like to, because that would make it so much easier than having to deal with what I'm feeling right now, with the uncertainty, with the choices I'm having to make."

Ed slowly sat back. "I'm not asking you to forgive and forget, Sam," he tried to explain, worried he'd gone about this all wrong and miscommunicated, made Same think he was asking for immediate forgiveness.

"I know," Sam stopped him.

"You do?"

Sam's head twitched in what was probably an attempt at a nod. "I do."

"Oh, well, good. And regarding the choices before you, I know I'm the one who's put you in this situation, put you in that position of uncertain choices, and I'm sorry for it. I can't tell you what to do, you're going to have to figure that out, but what I can do is tell you what I'm going to do: whatever you decide, I am going to support you one hundred percent, and I am going to keep doing everything I can to make amends and put my actions where my words are."

Sam gazed at him levelly. "Whatever I decide?"

"Whatever you decide," he confirmed. "But," Ed hesitated, unsure of whether he should say what was in his head, because he felt it was coming from a selfish place. He almost stopped himself, before he realized that while it might partly come from somewhere selfish, it was also something Sam deserved to hear. "But," he started again, "I feel like you need to know that you make a damn fine SRU officer, Sam. A damn fine one. Please don't let my pigheaded, stubborn ass make you think otherwise, make you doubt yourself. You still have a place at the SRU, you still belong there, if you choose to stay… And I… I'd really like it if you stayed, Sam," Ed shared quietly. Perhaps that last part was selfish. Perhaps it placed even more pressure on what was already a very difficult decision. But with everything that had gone down, he felt he needed to say it aloud, needed Sam to know that he was wanted.

Sam's gaze traveled away from Ed's, staring at some point past Ed's shoulder. Ed had no doubt that if Sam had been able to turn his head, he would have looked away, to get the semblance of privacy as he sorted through his thoughts. And Ed was okay with that, he was okay with giving Sam the time to think and process all that he'd said. He hadn't come into this conversation expecting or demanding immediate answers from Sam, not by any means. A lot had happened over the last two weeks, and Ed had had the time to process it. Sam hadn't. Giving Sam the time to start doing it now was the least he could do.

Finally, Sam's eyes returned to his, and Sam let out a breath. "Okay, you've done a lot of talking, shared a lot, and I really appreciate that. I'm going to try to do the same. Earlier, when Jack asked me if I was thinking about leaving, I realized I was scared of my answer, because it meant I had a choice to make, and because it felt like I had two bad options in front of me, and I was going to have to pick one and live with the consequences."

Ed didn't know whether to let his heart sink because Sam was talking in the past tense, like maybe he'd already made the decision to walk away, or to let a little bit of hope sprout because maybe it meant something had changed.

"Either," Sam continued, "I leave and go who knows where—maybe finally give in to my dad, I don't know. I have no idea what that would look like going forward, but I know what I'd be leaving behind, the people, my fam—friends," he changed the words at the last moment, but Ed knew what he'd been about to say, "who have been such a huge part of my life these past years. And as terrifying as that thought was, the other option scared me more. That I stay, and things go back to the way they were, to a 'normal' that I convince myself to be happy with, and that terrified me."

Sam stopped, drawing in a shaky breath and staring down at his hands, which he managed to pull into his lap. "Look, you and I both know my entry onto the team wasn't great. In fact, it was pretty rough." Ed winced, because Sam was absolutely right, and that was something else he wasn't particularly proud of. "But that was years ago," Sam continued. "And since then, it's been going great; we've been working well as a team, as friends, and I thought we were past all that… Until suddenly it was happening all over again that day." Sam clenched his hands. "And the worst part was, I," his voice cracked slightly, "I didn't see it coming."

Sam finally returned his gaze to Ed's, eyes bright. "I know that shit happens, we all get in each other's faces sometimes after a rough call, but that was different. I don't know what else to call that besides a betrayal. The people I thought who had my back, turned on me, without warning. And if it can happen just like that, without warning, what's to keep it from happening again? And while I was waiting for you to come in just now, I realized that I couldn't do that. I couldn't go back to that 'normal' where everything is wonderful, but always wondering if it's going to happen again. That's when I realized I couldn't take the second option. Which meant I had to leave, and lose everything I've built over these past years, walk away from friends I care deeply about, would—and have—risk my life for, even if the past few weeks have shown maybe they don't feel the same way."

"We do feel the same way, Sam," Ed jumped in, leaning forward as if getting closer to Sam would make his point more sincere, unable to stay quiet any longer, terrified himself, now, of the direction this conversation was taking, of how close he thought he was to losing Sam forever. "I know we haven't shown that, and we need to, and I'm not asking you to go back—"

Sam raised his right hand, silencing Ed. "I'm not done." He gingerly lowered his hand back to the bed, giving it all of his concentration, then returned his gaze to Ed. "All of that was what I was thinking before you had the guts and decency to walk through that door and admit to me that you were wrong."

Ed sat back, surprised by the turn in the conversation and barely daring to hope.

"I wasn't expecting that. You've showed me that there might, might, be a third option: stay, and things change. And I want that, I really want that, but I don't know that you'll be able to keep your promises."

Ed leapt at the chance. "I will, I swear I will. We won't go back."

"You can't promise that."

"I can," Ed denied.

"No, you can't, Ed," Sam told him gently but firmly, "and that's okay. I mean come on, one of those promises was to never get angry at me again. And let's face it, Ed, that's not who you are." Sam's lips quirked up in a cautious teasing smile.

Ed snorted. "Okay, yeah, that one might be a little unrealistic."

Sam's smile strengthened. "Yeah, maybe just a little bit. But I understand what you're saying, what you are wanting to do, and I appreciate that. So how about a compromise. I haven't made my decision yet, but just like you're willing to support me 100% whatever decision I make and are committed to changing things no matter where I go, I can offer you something in return, no matter what decision I make. I can't offer you a reset, an immediate forgiveness, but I can offer a start."

"A start?"

"Yeah, a start. A start towards forgiveness, a reset, a change, whatever you want to call it. Where you promise to try to do better, to follow through on everything you just talked about."

A hopeful smile started to spread across Ed's face. "Yeah?"

The corner of Sam's mouth quirked up in return. "Yeah. It's going to take time, but yeah."

That was more than Ed could have hoped for. Of course, he wanted everything to be fixed in this one conversation, but that was of course impossible. Instead, just knowing that this was the start, that was good enough for now.

"Okay, well I'm in it for however long the haul is. I promise."

Sam eyed him. "What did I say about the promises."

"I know, I know, you're probably right, but I'm going to do my damndest to keep them, I promise," he finished with a grin.

Sam huffed out a laugh, then immediately winced. "Don't," he scolded, gasping, hand shifting to support his ribs. "Don't try to be funny, because you're not very good at it, but my damn pain killer doped mind is susceptible to even bad humor."

"Bad humor!" Ed exclaimed in fake indignant outrage. "I thought that was pretty good!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't."

"Your laugh suggests otherwise," Ed pointed out smugly.

Sam glared at him sternly, though his lips quirking up gave away the fact that he was actually amused. "Did you not hear my comment about the pain killers?"

"Hmph," Ed grumbled good naturedly, but conceded, deciding not to push the matter further because while he enjoyed the banter—and the smile Sam was trying to hide suggested he did, too—he could tell that it was indeed taking a physical toll on Sam, as the other man took shallower breaths and shifted slightly to reposition himself.

Before a comfortable silence folded around them, Ed caught Sam's gaze and held it. "Thank you, Sam," he murmured, trying to convey the depth of his sincerity and all of his gratitude in those three simple words. For saving his and Spike's life, for hearing him out, for giving him a chance, all of it.

Sam's gaze softened and he nodded, but said nothing, allowing the comfortable silence to fall around them.

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A.N. Of all of the chapters, this one was the most difficult and nerve-wracking to write. A lot was riding on this conversation, and balancing starting the healing process while still acknowledging what happened, without sweeping things under the rug in order to make everything better and go back to being perfectly hunky-dory was really, really important to me. No whether I was successful or not, who knows! But that was my intention and hopefully, the balance comes across :)

Only two more chapters left after this one! Stay safe everyone!