AN: At last, the final chapter of this story. I can't believe it's been 2 years since the last update. Sigh. I thought this would go up quickly and then just had a lot going on in life both personally and professionally (job search, ending old job, starting new job, moving, very tired, etc) to where I didn't have time or the drive to wrap this one up before now. Trying to edit this chapter was really hard because it's one of my favorite episodes in the whole series. I wanted to include everything, so editing and refining this from an episode transcript to a proper fictional chapter took more time than I ever imagined. Sorry. But it's finally done—and a very long chapter to boot. Hope you enjoy. As always, reviews welcome. I do have some ideas for other stories I might write (Flashpoint or my new fave show Seal Team), so stay tuned.
Time ticked down to the scheduled end of their last shift of the week as most of Team One headed for the dispatcher's desk. It had been quite a stressful week for all of them. The hot call at the biolab, Jules' recovery from her anthrax exposure and shrapnel wound, the waiting game for Jules and Sam to hear the outcome of their appeal to remain on Team One together despite their now-revealed romantic relationship, and the pending decision from Sarge regarding his suspension... This picnic was going to be a welcome break for everyone-if they could finish their shift without another hot call coming in.
"Nice job, Team One!" Winnie greeted the group.
"Winnie, time check?" Spike responded cheerfully.
"One hour till the end of shift."
A spirited exchange confirming who was bringing what to the picnic came to a screeching halt when Sarge didn't respond to Winnie's query.
"Help me in the gun cage. Come on," Ed nudged Greg in the direction of the weapons storage locker.
Once they'd left hearing range, Jules hesitantly asked, "He's coming, right?"
"Yeah. He's supposed to get the call from the Chief at 7:30," Winnie answered.
"He better be coming," said Spike resolutely. The thought that the boss might not be there dampened some of his enthusiasm at bringing the last two bottles of the homemade red wine he and his dad had made prior to the elder Scarlatti's death last year. He would've liked to bring some of the batch that Ed, Sam, and Raf helped him make a few months ago, but it hadn't aged long enough to be drinkable yet and would have to wait for tasting until next year's picnic. After all, he didn't want to poison his teammates; that would not be something any of them would want to experience or remember, unlike the wine-making itself.
"Thanks." Jules said, accepting the bottle of water Sam handed her. "I guess that was our last call for Team One as we know it."
"We don't know that," her teammate and now-acknowledged boyfriend denied, though without much in the way of conviction.
"Yes, we do. The Chief already made his decision."
"And Dr. Toth is making a personal appeal to overturn it," Sam reminded her.
"It's the Chief we're talking about." She didn't seem optimistic that a reversal of the decision was likely.
"Yeah, well, not long now," Sam sighed and checked his watch. Not long until they'd find out if their lives would be able continue on the current path or if instead their worst fears would be realized. Dr. Toth had contacted Commander Holleran and the Police Chief to report their renewed secret relationship even before he arrived at SRU a week ago to confront the team's sergeant. The promised disciplinary consequence slating both Jules and himself for reassignment to other teams had been decreed, though it had almost immediately been amended to only one of them leaving Team One. Thankfully, enactment of that punishment was tabled during the appeal process. The Chief's decision if the consequence stood would come by the end of today, along with the revelation of whether or not Sarge accepted his suspension—and with it the likely end of his career with SRU—or if instead he would continue to lead the team.
Jules echoed his sigh.
"We still haven't talked about it," Sam's tone was somber.
Jules knew exactly what he meant. "Which one of us leaves."
"Maybe it's me. I'm ready to lead a team of my own." It was true. Over his years in SRU, Sam had dramatically transformed from the cocky soldier he'd been into a talented and capable police constable, one more than ready to permanently hold the tactical leadership spot on any team. The months spent acting as the TL for Team One during Ed's recuperation had amply demonstrated Sam's abilities, and the times since then when they'd swapped roles for a shift had been icing on the cake in terms of proving the younger officer's qualification for promotion.
"Except there are no vacancies for SRU Team Leaders right now."
Sam knew that just as well as she did. There might have been an open spot, if Donna had followed through on her decision to leave Team Three after getting married, which would have let Team Three's current TL step up to command the team. But the mandatory time off as a result of pulling her gun on her old undercover partner after he'd shot her new husband—turning her into a subject Ed had had to talk down—led Donna to have a change of heart and recently return to her position as Sergeant.
"My dad called," Sam confessed.
Jules was surprised. Sam hadn't mentioned it before now, and as far as she remembered father and son didn't speak too often. Sam's departure from Special Forces to return to the police force—abandoning the family tradition of military service—had never sat well with the elder Braddock. Though the General had backed off as time passed, Jules still didn't think he had fully accepted Sam's separation from the military was permanent and that he had no plans to ever return. That, coupled with nearly a lifetime of distance and tension stemming from the childhood death of one of Sam's younger sisters, meant that things tended to get tense between Sam and the General whenever they visited in person or to a lesser degree talked on the phone. Distance was adopted as a peacekeeping necessity. She waited in silence for Sam to elaborate.
"He said there's a position overseas for me if I want to take it."
The sentence was a punch to Jules' stomach. A position overseas—most likely one back in Special Forces—would almost certainly mean that Sam would be based there and not in Canada.
"Where?" she asked softly.
"Does it matter?" his own voice was bleak.
"Would you take it?" pain permeated her quiet question.
"I don't want to take it," Sam's reply was just as softly spoken and full of potential grief. While reactivating to a role in the military would give him a job if forced to leave SRU, it wasn't a choice he wished to make. Sam didn't want to go back into Special Forces or even the regular Army—he just might not end up with another option.
Greg and Ed returned to the lobby, still locked in an intense discussion interrupted by the blaring claxon, flashing lights, and announcement from Winnie of a hot call.
"Team One, gear up. Shots fired at St. Pat's."
"Let's go," Greg addressed his team. "Jules, you're with me."
"Who's our hero?" Ed asked after Winnie reported on the two cars fleeing the hospital.
"District Three, Firehouse Eleven. Still waiting on a name," Winnie was apologetic. "Apparently there was an attack on an injured member of his crew."
Greg and Jules drove to the hospital to investigate, while Spike and Raf turned their SUV to follow Ed and Sam in pursuit of the subject and firefighter.
"Beth Topp, Arson Investigation," a dark-haired woman greeted Greg and Jules, interrupting the nurse's description of the attack on the firefighter and his injuries from the fire.
"Who attacks a firefighter in their bed?" Jules wondered.
"I'm guessing the guy who started the fire," Beth answered bitterly.
"You hearing this, Sam?" Jules spoke to her teammate over the radio link.
"Copy. Unis have a visual on the cars," Sam replied. "They're running lights south on Cherry."
"Why don't you come with us?" Jules asked Beth. "Fill us in as we go."
The pursuit dead-ended in an industrial area of the city, in what rather looked to be a mix of a junkyard and an outdoor storage area, filled with boats, barrels, and cars. Ed detailed his team to sweep the area to find the subject and fireman. Greg, Jules, and Beth had only just arrived when gunshots echoed in the air. The rest of the team converged on the sound to find the fire captain, Simon, struggling with the gunman.
"Taking fire. Civilians at risk," Spike announced as he and Raf ducked for cover behind a cluster of barrels.
"Ed, we need backup," Raf echoed. "Need it now." He ordered Simon away from the gunman to give the team a clear shot at the active shooter, but if the captain heard he didn't obey. A moment later, the gunman had Simon in a headlock, gun pointed at his head. But seeing the quartet of approaching SRU officers, the gunman shoved his hostage away and took off running behind the cover of a boat. Ed moved to where the captain lay on the ground; the other SRU officers pursuing the gunman.
"Stay down, Simon," commanded Ed.
"I got him," Greg said as he and Jules caught up to the team.
"Jules, with me. Let's move," Ed ordered her to follow him after the others. While she loved getting to work so closely with the Boss on negotiating and profiling, there was still that part of her that relished the opportunities to be in the thick of the tactical action, to have a day be a "Jules Day" as she'd teased the others about numerous times. One of the most memorable of those had been when she—and the team—met Sam for the first time. A day where she had been designated as Sierra One for the hot call at Pershore Plaza until outdated building plans forced her to hand it off to Ed. How much might have been different, she'd often wondered, if those plans hadn't changed, if she'd been the one to take the shot to kill Goran Tomasic? She would've gone with SIU after the call and so wouldn't have pulled her gun on Sam by the SUVs, might not have been on the rooftop months later to be shot by Petar Tomasic…
"Gotta take you back to the truck, Captain," Greg told Simon, who was pacing around agitatedly—no surprise for a man who'd just been held at gunpoint. Against his better judgment, the sergeant didn't fight long against Simon's insistence on returning to the hospital to be with Gordon—he couldn't disagree with the man's position that as both friend and commander his place was with his injured guy.
"Boss, we got him," Ed announced over the radio link. Greg shook off his misgivings and moved to join his team. Jules covered Spike while he deployed a thermal imager to locate the subject in his marine hiding place.
"We go in hard, he's gonna start shooting," observed Ed calmly.
"I'd say break the window, flash-bang him, but given his hobby..." Sam noted.
"Who knows what he's got in there," Ed finished his teammate's thought.
Raf concurred. "Whole boat could blow." Maybe even the whole area, what with all the junk and potentially incendiary material nearby.
"I guess we got to talk him out," Sam said. It was a distinct different from the hard tactics attitude he'd had on first joining Team One more than four years earlier.
The team's skills quickly imposed order on a chaotic situation. Spike identified the subject as Andrew Hammond using the car's license plate. Unsealing a youth record revealed a typical abuse-fueled pattern of accelerating behavior for this type of offender. This dive into Andrew's background divulged the name of his partner in crime: his brother Robert. Beth's insights on the psychology of firebugs helped Jules and Greg build a profile of Andrew's path to becoming a serial arsonist. While Sam covered the scene from his sniper's perch, Raf enacted Ed's tactical plan by sticking a canister in the boat's air vent, filling the cabin with smoke and forcing the subject to open the door.
On her way back to the hospital to check on Simon and Gordon, Beth provided the missing piece of the puzzle: Robert "Robbie" Hammond worked as a janitor at Firehouse 11-the very place where Simon, Gordon, and their team were based-which made perfect sense of the firefighter textbook Sam found inside the boat.
"I should never have let him go, not in the state he was in," Greg told Jules, castigating himself for having let the fire captain leave the scene. The fact that Simon didn't answer his phone when Greg tried to call him set off alarm bells in the sergeant.
"Boss, it was the right call," Jules assured him. "If Gord wakes up, he's going to want to see a friend. It's okay."
Team one exchanged disbelieving glances as the arson investigator spoke to their boss about Simon's probable mercy killing of his injured teammate in the hospital.
"Let's call the firehouse. Tell them we're on our way," Greg gestured to his team and they ran back to the SUVs.
Jules asked, "Beth, are you close to Simon?"
Listening over the comm link, most members of Team One grimaced in understanding at the answer Beth provided to Jules' question about Simon's home life. The long and crazy hours first responders worked, the terrible things they saw, were unable to forget yet unwilling to discuss...too often, people either shut down or lashed out. For Greg, it had been diving into the bottle until his wife took their son and left the country. Ed's modus operandi had been to emotionally withdraw, shut everything inside himself and the locked cabinet in his garage. Spike had argued with his father and lavished attention on Babycakes, while Raf kept the team at a distance and tried to submerge himself in music. Jules had poured hours of time into rehabbing her home, and Sam did his best to punch out his frustrations on a heavy bag.
Greg smiled faintly, thinking of his son. Though only a teenager, Dean already showed himself to be perceptive and empathetic, instinctively knowing when his father had a bad day and offering a listening ear or a plate of pasta. And there was Marina, too. Not that she always understood, but the traumatic Valentine's Day when they'd met did give her more insight than most civilians could manage. Ed opened up more to Sophie than he used to, not that it much easier for him now than in the past. Spike leaned on the team for the support that neither his late father nor still-living mother could provide. Raf usually wished that he could turn to his own dad for advice without prison glass between them. Sam and Jules had each other now and were fervently grateful for that.
"So if it's not his family, who does he turn to?" Jules wondered.
"His crew?" Greg asked.
"He takes on everything they're going through, like it's his own war to win. He's tough on himself," answered Beth.
"How so?" Jules asked.
"No matter how many things he does right-" Beth began.
Greg finished, "-All he knows is what he's done wrong."
After the call with Beth ended, Jules queried, "Are you okay, Boss?" But Greg didn't answer. A talented profiler, Jules realized the answer to her question was a sure "no". Simon wasn't the only person who blamed himself for things outside his control. They all did, to some degree—part and parcel of being dedicated law enforcement personnel and first responders. Jules strongly suspected that the boss felt his suspension to be deserved, that he'd let his team down by subjecting them to Toth's psychological grilling and oversight. As insightful as Greg was, he couldn't seem to see that no one on the team blamed him—had ever blamed him—for doing what he'd thought was right.
In another SUV, Sam's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He could understand Simon's likely feelings of guilt over Gordon, the subordinate he couldn't protect and the burned boy he couldn't save. Sam had his own reminders of failure. His best friend Matt and Darren Kovacs were only two. With sudden insight, Sam thought that Simon and Boss had a lot in common. He hoped the similar experience would come in handy with whatever awaited them at the firehouse.
Exiting their vehicles at the firehouse, Team One learned that Robert was now Simon's hostage, both barricaded inside the burn house. Worse, Simon had ordered one of his men start a burn sequence before smashing the controlling computer and kill switch.
"So it's down to Simon," Ed stated. It grated on the tactical leader that the team didn't have much in the way of options for preventing two more deaths today.
Raf stated, "He wants to give the man a taste of his own."
"But he's got no exit strategy," Sam noted with a grimace, seeing another similarity to the day at the Godwin.
Jules ran up to the team, having talked to the other members of the firehouse crew. "So when Simon got here, he was very upset. Said he was done talking. Barry also said it's not the first time. The little boy who died in the fire-Simon blames himself."
Sam observed, "He's got every reason to want to hurt this guy."
"This is sounding like suicide intent here," Ed said the obvious. Locked doors and windows, no safety gear, smashed equipment—it all added up to Simon intending his own death as well as Robert's.
"I let him go," Greg recriminated. "I saw the signs and I let him go." He didn't add his next thought, 'Gord died because I let Simon go back to the hospital alone.'
Ed shook his head. "Greg, this is about Simon. Now we gotta get him to hit that kill switch before this fire starts."
"Here's a walkie," Jules held out the handset a firefighter had brought. "He can hear us, but we have to get Simon to turn on the intercom system so that we can hear him."
Everyone on Team One watched in disbelief as their sergeant refused the walkie talkie Jules tried to hand him, told Ed to take the lead, and then walked away.
"Well, I guess the Sarge made his choice today," Jules spoke somberly and directed a meaningful look at Sam.
"I got him. I'll talk to him," Ed said, clearly referring to Greg. "Jules, take it."
"I'll do the talk," she agreed.
"I'll do tac," Sam stated. "There's got to be a way in. Raf. Barry," he gestured to his teammate and the firefighter to follow him.
As the tactical plan developed, Jules continued trying to make contact with the barricaded suicidal subject. "Simon, I know that you can hear me. I need you to turn on the intercom so that we can hear you. Simon, I need you to come outta there now. The burn sequence is going to start in a few seconds. Simon, answer me please!" The continued silence on the other end of the line made Jules' worry increase.
While part of his attention noted the firefighters approaching with their extraction equipment, Sam couldn't help but empathize with Jules' unspoken frustration that talk wasn't working right now. "Simon, I need to hear your voice, okay?"
Simon's threat to kill Robert if the rescue effort continued made Sam order a halt. The threat had to be taken seriously, even if part of him—of all of them—could see the poetic justice in having a firebug die by his own weapon. But Team One couldn't let that happen—couldn't let Simon take this kind of revenge and take his own life in the process.
"A fast track to the kill switch would be good," Sam spoke quietly to Jules. The only ways to safely enter the structure would take more time than remained before both men trapped inside the burn house would either asphyxiate or burn to death.
"I'm trying," was her answer. "Simon, you have been through so much with your team. You can't throw it all away now. Simon, I know you can hear me. Turn the intercom on so that I can hear you," Jules fought to prevent her growing worry from invading her tone. Time was running out to resolve this without two deaths and she was failing—failing Simon, Robert…failing Boss most of all.
Sam's heart broke as he listened to Jules' best efforts continue to fall short. He knew only too well the pain that a failed negotiation brought. Darren Kovacs would always haunt him—knowing that he hadn't been able to reach the one person he ought to have been able to connect with through their mutual military service and best friend's death. Every member of the team had told and showed Sam he'd done everything humanly possible to reach Darren—the young man's death had been his own choice, not any failure by Sam or the team. Sometimes that helped the pain, other times it didn't. If she lost Simon today, Jules would blame herself for a long time, maybe always. She'd castigate herself for failing the Boss, too—for not having been able to step into his negotiating shoes well enough to connect with Simon.
From where he stood with Ed, Greg listened to Jules, this exceptional woman he'd trained to become a skilled negotiator.
"Simon, I need you to hit the kill switch right now. Simon, please hit the kill switch right now!" Jules' voice lacked her customary control, her desperation to make contact with the fire captain palpable. Clearly, Simon wasn't going to respond to her. Greg's mind flashed back to that day just a week ago when Jules and Sam's secret had been exposed again, the day she'd nearly died in the biolab. 'I couldn't get through to him.' she'd said, apologizing that Xavier Dodd was going to kill himself, her, and the two scientists. Jules had done everything right that day, too, yet blamed herself when there was no cause.
However much he felt he'd failed his team leading up to today, Greg couldn't fail them—couldn't fail Jules, especially. From the headquarters briefing room last week, Greg had told a likely dying Jules that she hadn't failed him, had done everything possible. The team believed he could connect to Simon now, so perhaps borrowing that faith would be enough to compensate for his own lack of it. Resolved, he strode back across the concrete to where Jules stood and held out his hand for the walkie talkie. She relinquished it in relief.
While Greg began talking to Simon, the rest of the team moved a short distance away.
"Hey, Simon. You remember what I said to you back at the boatyard? I said that I know—oh yeah, I know. I know what it's like to have other people's lives in your hands…It's about all the years, it's about all the people and all the lives that slipped away when you did your best. When doing your job just wasn't good enough and the only way to keep the nightmares away is to drink, or work harder, or to push the people that you love away so that you're anywhere except inside your head and seeing fathers fall as you hold their sons..."
Team One watched their leader in silence. They'd known Greg was the best one to connect with Simon, and this just proved it. Though only a few seconds passed, to those watching and waiting it was an eternity. With a rattle and clank, the trap door in the burn house's roof lifted and within moments Simon and Robert both emerged.
"You did it. He hit the kill switch," Ed sighed in relief. Greg gasped in an effort to fill his lungs. He turned and walked away again and this time the team let him go. They all knew about needing a few moments alone after an intense call, a bit of privacy to let emotions and adrenaline settle.
"You okay?" Sam approached Jules after securing his gear in the SUV.
"I don't know. I guess," Jules sighed heavily. "I couldn't reach Simon. I didn't make the connection."
"Hey," Sam stopped his girlfriend in her tracks. "Ed was right—you were doing everything right. Do you hear me? You were doing everything right. It is not your fault Simon didn't respond."
She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I know. I just..."
"Yeah. But Simon needed to hear from the Boss and Boss needed to talk to him."
"He walked away, Sam. He-"
Sam could see Jules struggled over that as much as her failure with Simon and gave her a short platonic hug. "We just have to have faith that the Boss will do what's best—for himself and for the team. I'm not going to count him out, though. Not yet."
The section of lakefront beach reserved for the team's annual picnic filled up gradually. The Lanes arrived early so Ed could begin heating up the grill while Sophie started setting up the side dishes she'd prepared. Raf, Spike, and Winnie all trickled in. Donna and her new husband, Hank—thankfully recovered from being shot on their wedding day—also arrived. Wordy and Shelly shepherded their three daughters from the parking area to the beach, warmly greeting everyone. Sam showed up, both arms loaded down with bags, which he dropped off before heading back to the parking area. He returned to the beach with Jules beside him.
The couple held hands. No one made a big deal about it, not with everyone now aware of that status ad what was currently at stake. They all knew that the decision whether the couple could remain together professionally was expected anytime. So if this might be the only time Sam and Jules could attend a team occasion together openly as both a couple and as teammates, everyone would let them have this time. All hoped that this wouldn't be the only time, though.
Greg opened his arms and gave Wordy a strong hug. He and his family would always have a standing invitation to the annual picnic no matter how long ago his service with the team might have been. But catching up was cut short when Greg's cell phone rang. The Caller ID showed Commander Holleran's number, and Greg apologized to Wordy and excused himself to take the call.
"Parker."
"Greg. The Chief and I have been giving the situation with Braddock and Callaghan a great deal of thought this week, and we've come to a decision."
"Yes, Sir." Greg turned from where he stood near the lake's edge and wagged his fingers in summons. Jules touched Sam's bicep and the pair started across the beach toward their boss, swinging around to stand between Greg and the water. They waited in tense silence while Greg's call continued.
"This has not been an easy matter to weigh," Commander Holleran stated. "The rules are clear in this situation, and the fact that these two officers willfully broke those rules-and not just once, but apparently twice-is equally obvious. However, the statements offered on their behalf by you and the other members of the team are a compelling argument for the retention of both Braddock and Callaghan on Team One. Also, Dr. Toth has given a statement in their defense, including a detailed evaluation of last week's call at the bio lab and a year's worth of transcripts that never hinted at a romantic relationship between Callaghan and Braddock. The fact that no one suspected anything is a strong indicator that neither of them has or will allow their personal relationship to impact their work performance."
Greg held his breath. It all sounded hopeful so far.
Holleran continued, "So, after careful consideration, we have decided to reverse the decision that one of them will need to leave the team in order to maintain their romantic relationship. Braddock and Callaghan may continue to serve together on the same team while dating outside of work. There will, of course, be the expectation that while they are on the clock they will maintain professional demeanor and behavior. But their after-hours activities are their own business and nothing of SRU's concern; no different than the personal lives of other officers. Should this relationship progress to marriage, however, the transfer of one of them to another team will be required if both wish to remain in SRU."
"Understood, Sir. And, thank you, Sir," Team One's Sergeant heaved a mental sigh of relief.
"Give them both my congratulations, will you, Greg?"
"I will, Sir. Thank you, Sir." He ended the call and looked at Sam and Jules. Both faced him in immobile silence.
"Commander Holleran has shared the decision," Greg informed the couple before him. Neither one moved or seemed to breathe, almost as if functioning as snipers during a hot call, stationed in a Sierra perch waiting for a Scorpio call to be given.
"He has asked me to give you both his congratulations and express his confidence that you will both continue to perform your duties as members of Team One to the same high level that you have done up until now."
Brief and barely-seen smiles appeared on both faces, and each darted a quick glance at the other—an instinctive need to confirm that both had heard the same spoken words. But beyond that, neither Sam nor Jules reacted visibly.
"So that's it? After everything—that's all you're going to do?" Greg teased.
Paralysis broken, larger true smiles grew on both faces. Bodies turned and flowed together in a fervent embrace. Jules' face buried itself against Sam's chest and his face rested in the crook of her neck as both sets of arms squeezed tightly.
Greg looked toward the rest of the team, whose faces now showed relief and pleasure as they came to the correct conclusion about the call's content.
"In case you can't tell," he gestured back to the embracing couple, "these two have been cleared by the chief to remain on Team One, regardless of how they choose to spend their free time."
Applause and grins were the universal response.
He turned to face Sam and Jules again. No longer embracing, they stood close together, his arm circling her shoulders and hers around his waist.
"Thank you," Sam told him sincerely, extending his free hand to clasp Greg's shoulder. A simple statement that covered so much. Thank you for making me a part of this team. Thank you for believing Jules and I could be lovers and still do our jobs. Thank you for trusting me with Jules' heart.
"No, Sam, thank you," Greg replied. "We usually get to choose our teams, but in your case we had greatness thrust upon us. We're proud to have you." He means it wholeheartedly. Sam has matured so much during his years on the team and Greg is so proud of how he's made the transition from soldier to cop.
After a quick flick of his gaze to Jules, Sam said, "Nowhere else I'd rather be."
"Jules, you are my right hand. You are my heart. You teach me something new every day." Greg's next words address the woman who has long been like a daughter to him. Seeing how she has matured as a profiler and negotiator…everything he had hoped for when selecting her for the team.
Her usual tough-cop demeanor didn't completely mask Jules's reaction to his approbation; in fact, her free hand lifted to brush against glistening eyelashes.
Similar praise was next delivered to Wordy, Spike, and Raf. Unable to do likewise for Ed, Greg strode away with Ed following.
Silence again covered the beach as everyone waited for the day's other answer: would Greg Parker continue to lead Team One, or would this the end? They watched as Sergeant and Team Leader spoke and a folded paper passed from one to the other.
"Let's keep the peace," Greg said, loudly enough for the team to catch.
With a laugh, Ed ripped up paper and tossed the bits in air. Smiles of relief appeared on faces, hugs and back slaps followed.
With the pressure of waiting for the day's decisions abated, an air of exuberant celebration seized the gathered teammates and family members.
Wordy took a moment to pull Sam aside.
"I'm happy for you," he said. Wordy knew without having to ask that it would have been Sam to leave the team if the situation had come to the tipping point. It was just in his nature to make that kind of sacrifice for Jules. He was so happy for both of them that it was something Sam wouldn't have to do. Team One has been and is a better team because both of them were on it.
"Even though we broke the rules? Lied to the team-again?" Sam's brow lifted in question.
"I kept my own secrets from the team, remember, so I'm the last person to throw stones," Wordy reminded him. "I've been a cop long enough to know why those kinds of rules are necessary, but...neither you nor Jules have ever been standard issue, Sam. What was it that Spike nicknamed you? Samtastic, right? Well, you are. What I heard about that call at the biolab last week...I know I couldn't have done that. Maybe you two are just the one in a million couple who could."
"It wasn't easy," admitted Sam. "Maybe the hardest thing I've ever done-even harder than not throwing in the towel after Matt's death."
"I hear you. You got through that and emerged stronger as a person. I think what you and Jules have been through will be the same. This life isn't easy on relationships, but I know you two will beat the odds."
As the sun began to set, Dean and Clark were deputized—under Ed's careful supervision—to dig a fire pit in the sand and stack logs for a bonfire. Everyone pretended not to notice when Sam and Jules slipped away a short distance down the beach for some time alone. They could all relate—albeit with varying degrees of understanding—to how stressful this week must have been for this couple.
Sam reached out and wrapped his arm around Jules' waist, pulling her close against his side. Even with their height difference, their walk down the beach away from the gathering was effortlessly in perfect step. They loved spending time around their chosen family, and were grateful to be able to celebrate today's good news with all of them, but both knew that they needed a moment alone. They finally stopped a little way down the beach, still within sight of the party, but definitely out of earshot.
"I can't believe it," Sam moved his other arm to enclose his girlfriend within his embrace. His girlfriend. It feels good-so damned good-to be able to call Jules that openly now, to hold her this way in public and around their team without fear of being caught. Despite his confident words to Jules earlier in the day, in truth Sam hadn't been at all convinced that the Chief would decide this in their favor. He'd at least half-expected Sarge would regretfully tell him and Jules that the ruling for disciplinary action against them would stand and that they'd have a short amount of time to decide which of them would stay on the team and who would leave. It was a big part of why he'd heard his dad out when the General had called the other day with the overseas job offer. Like he'd told Jules, he wouldn't willingly take the job, but not having SRU limited his options. Thankfully—blessedly—that's not a worry anymore. He gets to keep his job and his girlfriend. Life is good.
"Me, either. I feel like I've got to be dreaming," Jules shifted so that she could slide her other arm around Sam, too. His head came to rest against hers, and they just stood beside the lake savoring their good fortune.
"But we aren't dreaming, not anymore. This is real," Sam's words were spoken with a sense of wonder. He pulled back from her just enough to be able to look down into her uplifted eyes. "We get each other, and our jobs, and the Boss is staying with the team. Things can't get any better."
"Well...maybe it can get a little better," Jules purred slyly. She lifted up onto her toes and kissed him. Sam's body was between her and their audience, so it might not be obvious to everyone just what they were doing. They hadn't yet had time to discuss what level of PDA—if any—they'd do in front of their teammates and friends. At the moment, however, Sam couldn't bring himself to care one iota what their teammates, or their spouses and kids, might see or suspect.
"Ready to go back?" she asked, after dropping back down.
Sam gave her a dark look. What he was really ready for—and Jules knew it—wasn't something appropriate for a beach full of families. With immense effort, Sam fought to quell the obvious signs of the desire he always felt for her. Only a few more hours, and then they would be home, alone, and the floodgates could be opened to allow passion free.
"Yeah, I am," he finally answered aloud. "The question is: are you?"
Jules laughed, whirled away from Sam, and started to run. But the platform wedge shoes she wore would have hampered her even on the firmest ground and the beach sand was far from solid, so Sam caught her quickly, sweeping Jules off her feet and through the air in a circle as he spun around.
"So, did you know?" Shelly Wordsworth sipped from her cup of lemonade and lifted an eyebrow at her longtime friend Sophie Lane.
"No. Well, not until Eddie came home from work a week ago and told me. If I think about it, though, I guess I can't say I'm too surprised. Those two-" Sophie pointed down the beach to where Sam and Jules spun around like kids. "Those two have always had a strong connection, haven't they?"
"Yep," dispatcher Winnie agreed. "It's so obvious now, looking back at everything. I'm just amazed they were able to keep it a secret for so long."
"They would really have been forced to break up or leave the team?" queried Marina. As Greg's semi-official girlfriend and still quite new to the SRU life, she was understandably unfamiliar with the rules.
Winnie nodded. "Yes. Police department policies officially prohibit immediate colleagues from dating, due to Priority of Life concerns—the belief that officers in a personal relationship would put each other's safety above that of a civilian or another teammate or a subject. Obviously those concerns are wasted where Sam and Jules are concerned, but most other officers..." Even though the rule doesn't exactly apply to her—not being a member of a team, per se—it's still something Winnie chose a long time ago to take to heart. She wanted a guy to come home to at night who wouldn't want to "talk shop" or who she'd have to worry about not coming home to her at all. It had been her personal rule for a while now, although there have been times...
"Sam! Put me down!" Jules was breathless from their spinning and her own slightly giddy laughter.
Sam slowed his movement then stopped. He lowered Jules to the ground with obvious reluctance. Leaving one hand wrapped around her waist, the other lifted to tangle in her hair and pull her head close for a kiss—which their change in positions made visible to their friends. Jules didn't protest, but she also didn't let things escalate further.
"Let's spend time with our family, okay?"
Sam glanced down the beach to where more than a few people were looking at them with amusement and, he thought, pleasure. "Celebrate, right?"
"Yep. Celebrate with them now, and then later..."
"Copy that."
When they rejoined the party, Wordy's daughter Ally sidled over to Sam. "Uncle Sam, you kissed Aunt Jules," she said in a stage-whisper.
"I did."
"How come?"
"Because I love her. Like your Dad loves your Mom. He kisses Mom, doesn't he?"
"Yep," and she gave a theatrical smack with her own lips in illustration, making many people laugh.
"Did you have any idea?" Hank asked Donna in a low voice.
She shook her head. "Not a clue. They kept things absolutely professional from what I could see. But..."
"But what?"
"I think I just figured out why he didn't like me."
"You mean Sam?"
"Yeah. When I first joined SRU it was as a temporary member of Team One while Jules was out on medical leave after being shot. Sam was...decidedly not welcoming to me. Pretty standoff-ish, really."
"Like gum on the bottom of your shoe kind of thing?"
"Exactly," Donna laughed softly. "But he lightened up and was friendlier after Jules came back and I switched over to Team Three. All of this," her hand gestured around, "I think it explains why Sam acted the way he did. If they were involved back then or even if it was just attraction-"
"He might have seen you as competition for her job and resented you for it," Hank figured it out.
"That's what I'm thinking."
"How's Nat?" Spike asked.
"She's fine. She's been staying with my mom lately, but said she plans to head down to New York soon. Some kind of modeling job." Sam shook his head. His younger sister had been in Toronto for nearly the entire past year, crashing at Sam's apartment. Given the fact that the two siblings hadn't spent much time around each other in years, it had made tension rise the longer the roommate situation lasted—and not just because Natalie had nearly spilled his and Jules' secret to the team during her first visit to the station back on Valentine's Day. Natalie had met Spike that day, too. Sam hadn't really liked it when his teammate started casually dating his sister, but at the same time hadn't complained aloud too much since it meant both Natalie and Spike were distracted and not focusing on him and Jules. But Natalie had moved out and left town about a month ago, understandably traumatized by being kidnapped by her criminal ex-boyfriend, slapped around, and watching Spike beaten up just because he tried to help her.
"I have to get out of here," Natalie had said while throwing all her things carelessly into suitcases. "I'm trouble. I don't think. I've got to get away. Not think about it all the time."
"You aren't trouble, Nat," Sam had sighed. "But I know what you mean about getting away from the memories. And you are smart-"
"Really? I got myself-and Spike-held hostage by my drug-running ex-boyfriend. Spike got beaten up because of me!"
"Nat! Okay, yeah, actually talking to David once you realized it was him calling you wasn't the best idea. And going to his apartment...nope, definitely not a good plan. But unless he told you what he was going to do to you and to Spike once you got there, then you didn't make it happen. You're going to be okay. Spike's going to be okay. And David and his surviving guys are in jail-for good, this time."
"See! I don't think things through."
"So learn to!" Sam let a little heat creep into his voice. "You are smart. You just need to use it. Observe and evaluate. Be aware."
"That's good. I hope she'll be okay," Spike said.
"I'm sure she will be. She's a Braddock. She's tough. What about you?"
"I'm okay." Not that Spike would ever say anything to Sam, but he wasn't really—okay, not at all—brokenhearted about Natalie's departure. She'd been fun to hang out with and date occasionally, but anything long-term... Spike could see now why Sam wasn't too cozy with his sister and why he'd obviously come to resent her proximity after a while. There had been times after their abduction when Spike had resented her, too, even though he professionally knew better. Blaming a victim for their own kidnapping was never the right thing to do. So as an SRU officer he absolutely didn't blame her. But as a guy and semi-boyfriend...? Spike knew she hadn't meant for any of it to happen, but she hadn't done as much as she could have to prevent it, either. Maybe she hadn't known what her options were—fashion models weren't trained the way cops or soldiers were. Though, why wouldn't General Braddock have made sure his only surviving daughter knew how to handle herself in dangerous situations? Given what Sam had told the team about Natalie having been arrested in South America for being David's unwitting drug mule-and turning witness against him at his trial—why, exactly, had she not hung up immediately when she realized who had called her? Why had she gone to David's rental apartment? Why had she called Spike instead of her ex-Special Forces brother? His cuts had healed and his bruises long since faded away, but Spike knew that the memories of being tied up and beaten would linger a while. Not seeing Natalie for a while might help them fade faster.
Sam was relieved that Spike didn't seem to be pining over Natalie. He would have accepted things if they'd chosen to keep seeing each other, even if he'd always thought that Spike could do better. Part of Sam wanted to kick himself for thinking so uncharitably about his own sister, but the other part of him knew that it was true. Natalie had been, was, and would always be too reckless and thoughtless for a careful, deliberate bomb tech like Spike. Opposites might attract, as the saying went, but usually that only preceded a major explosion or implosion. It seemed that the latter had occurred here.
"What, you're leaving already?" Spike looked in surprise to where Sam and Jules were packing up their stuff.
"Yeah," Sam glanced over his shoulder. "Heading home."
"Home? Which home? Yours or Jules'?"
"Hers. Been crashing there more often than not for months now."
Spike's mouth dropped open. "You mean to say you basically moved in with Jules already?"
"You mean to say you thought I was sleeping on my couch every night for the past year?" Sam snorted. "I did sleep at my apartment occasionally, but usually I only stopped by to swap out clothes. Mostly I was at Jules' house."
Much of the team's laughter was self-depreciating in nature. No, apparently none of them actually had thought about the logistics of Sam and his sister sharing a one-bedroom apartment for almost an entire year.
"Get out of here then, lovebirds," Ed teased, accompanied by an exaggerated shooing motion.
"Copy that," the sniper shot back with perfect accuracy. "C'mon, my SSC. We've been ordered to leave." His free arm linked with Jules' as they obeyed Ed.
"SSC?" Raf wondered once the pair was out of earshot.
"I don't think I want to know," Spike shook his head. Not that he wasn't curious—he absolutely was. However the techie had healthy respect for his own mental health, and Sam might just provide an answer if asked what the acronym signified. For that matter, Spike also valued his physical well-being, and Jules might just take it out on him during their next hand-to-hand combat training session if the whole "SSC" thing was something she preferred keeping private.
"My SSC?" queried Jules in the Jeep.
"Sexy Sniper Chick," grinned Sam.
As a capable and independent officer, she might have protested about the possessive description, but the female part of her relished it. Jules secretly loved how Sam never let her doubt how he felt about her, even if she'd been the only one who knew just how much until recently.
"Need anything from your apartment?"
"Nope. I'm good."
"Guess that was another way we could've gotten busted but didn't," Jules shook her head in bemusement. "Really? None of them wondered about two adult siblings of different genders sharing a one-bedroom apartment for a year?"
"Yeah. Lucky for us that they didn't, though."
Jules nodded and drove quietly for several minutes. "About that apartment..."
"What about it?"
"Now that everyone knows about us and we've got the green light with SRU, you don't have to keep the apartment for camouflage anymore."
"Julianna Callaghan! Are you asking me to move in with you?" Sam grinned at his girlfriend and took advantage of the red traffic light to lean over and plant a quick, light kiss on her cheek.
"And if I am?"
"I'm listening. Convince me."
"The fact that we can do it isn't enough motivation?"
"I like to get the full picture."
"Oh, you do, do you? Well, in that case..." Jules's hand moved from the gearshift to rest on Sam's thigh. Slowly and lightly, her fingers began to trace back and forth along the inseam of his denim jeans as she continued speaking, "You won't be wasting gas visiting an apartment you almost never sleep in, you'll save money on the rent and utilities for an apartment you don't use, we could drive to work together..."
Sam was hearing but not comprehending the logical reasons for them to live together now-how could he with the path of her fingers? Not that they were heading where he most wanted her touch, but where they did stroke was going to get him in trouble fast.
"Juulllesss..." his guttural moan made her smile in purely feminine satisfaction at having such a powerful Alpha male at her mercy simply from the feather-touch of her fingers through a layer of fabric separation.
It took a supreme effort of willpower for Sam to move his hand to take hold of Jules' and lift it off his leg. Then, deciding that turnabout was fair play, he flipped her arm over and began tracing a path up and down each of her fingers, spiraling across the palm of her hand, and then up the sensitive, smooth skin of her bared forearm. A smirk of equal masculine gratification appeared on Sam's face as Jules' right arm twitched within his grasp and her left hand clenched around the steering wheel.
"Sam-" Jules' whisper of his name was more a strangled gasp than breathy sigh.
"Get us home, NOW!" Sam growled.
In short order-and thankfully minus any traffic tickets or accidents-Jules parked the jeep in front of her house. She opened her door and exited before Sam could launch a distract-and-delay move that might get them into trouble if any of her neighbors noticed.
"Jules!" he pouted.
"If we get the food into the fridge now, we'll have something to eat tomorrow without having to leave the house," she pointed out logically.
"There's always delivery," Sam responded, but all the same started grabbing things to bring in.
Further torturing them both, Jules insisted that they put everything away, not just the perishables. She leaned against Sam while handing him items to put on a high cabinet shelf. He brushed against her while setting stuff in the fridge. The light touches, which they could now indulge in freely, restarted the fire burning in each of them only banked since their drive home, accelerating pulses and respiration.
"Happy now?" Sam asked.
"Very," Jules replied, meaning far more than just the state of her kitchen.
Sam pulled her close and resumed his campaign of seduction even as he moved them both across the floor toward the stairs. Their typically tidy habits were abandoned as clothing was removed one item at a time while they ascended the stairs. Hands calloused by hours practicing at the firing range caressed over revealed skin in random movements that often stopped or resumed jerkily due to the touches being received. Mouths swallowed gasps, moans, and cries in deference to the open windows that allowed the night air to tickle flesh and ruffle hair.
Perhaps it had been the forbidden nature of their romance. It could have resulted from the high-risk nature of their mutual profession. Whatever the cause, sex between Sam and Jules had never just been about physical gratification-partly, yes, but not totally. Their lovemaking was an affirmation of life, of choice, of commitment. The complete and utter trust between two people, an act of faith for individuals who had both suffered loss and yet persevered to reach out again in hope. Tonight, it was again all those things, but something more as well. Maybe it was just the simple awareness that their friends and colleagues now knew the truth about their relationship and were happy-about it and for them. Or that they didn't have to hide their feelings anymore or look over shoulders for anyone who might know them professionally. Whatever it was, it took what had always existed between this pair and made it deeper and richer than ever before.
"So, are you ever going to answer my question?" Jules lifted her head slightly off Sam's chest, where it had been pillowed in post-coital bliss.
"Hmm?" Sam's reply was vague and more than half-asleep.
"Moving in?"
He stretched in an effort to awaken enough to give a coherent answer. Jules, for her part, valiantly resisted the inclination to let the proximity of Sam's nude perfection distract her.
"I'd love to. Luckily, I still have the lease renewal paperwork from the management company. I'll let them know I'll be out by the end of next month. End of this month, even, but they may not let me bail on my lease early. You sure about this? I might end up being a crappy roommate."
"I'll take my chances. Because you, my SSG, aren't going anywhere."
"Copy that," and Sam rolled over to press Jules deep into the mattress and proceeded to kiss her fervently, rekindling the fire that always resided in each of them. Alpha male he might be, but Sam had no problems whatsoever being Jules' Sexy Sniper Guy.
The End
AN: After reviewer venetiaj expressed interest in seeing my take on Natalie's motivations and missblueeyes63 liked how I wrote Natalie in her few appearances in this story, I decided to touch on Natalie's departure as this story wrapped up. It's one of my few quibbles with the show that they didn't at least mention Natalie leaving, or bring her back for the wedding, so I'm rectifying the lapse here. I honestly never liked Natalie, given how she inconvenienced/jeopardized both Sam and Spike, so it was a bit of a challenge to get into her head and figure out why she might have done things. Besides, Spike belongs with Winnie, so Nat had to go.
Chocolateverries: Thanks for your review last chapter. I liked getting to play with how the team would react to learning of the renewed relationship (since all but Raf would have seen Sam after Jules got shot and figured out the first time of them dating). It just made sense to me that all of them would be able to look back at the work performance of both Sam and Jules and see that neither one of them let the romance hamper their work performance or their ability to protect the citizens, subjects, and the team (especially not after the events in the bio lab). Plus, they'd all know how hard the job is and how important it is to have someone to lean on for mental/emotional support. So based on how happy they all were in the next episode with the reversal of the chief's decision and for the later marriage of Sam and Jules, the only real reaction from the team in my mind was complete support.