Author's Note: I'm going to start yelling and throwing things if they don't start giving me some serious Sam and Jules scenes… or **closure, at the very least.

**Insert inappropriate cuss word of your choice here

Anyway, here's my long-delayed Chapter 6. Enjoy =)

FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP

The yawn with which Sam awoke was of such vast proportions as to make his cheeks hurt. He groaned, rolled over – and fell right off of the couch and on to the floor.

Ow.

Too tired to care about his uncomfortable position, Sam remained lying on the floor for a few minutes while the thick cotton balls that seemed to fill his head slowly cleared out.

Morning? Night?

Sam lifted himself onto his elbows and looked around the dark room for clues as to the time of day and location that he was situated in. His bare chest was resting on top of a red iPod nano, and his legs were half tangled in a grey blanket that had taken the fall with him. Jules's things. He was at Jules's house, then. The luminous numbers on his watch informed him that it was currently five fifteen in the morning.

Right, right, we came here after work… Jules made that new Thai chicken recipe for dinner… we played backgammon… she hasn't slowed down at all since that fainting spell yesterday…

He shook his head slightly in consternation, then stopped immediately when the slight motion seemed to painfully slosh the contents of his head.

Have I been drinking?

Sam glanced around the room from his vantage point on the floor for evidence of extensive alcoholic consumption, but found none. He did find Jules, though – she was asleep on the loveseat, curled into a pitifully fetal position.

Her diamond ring glittered brightly in the darkness, and Sam suddenly remembered.

He wished that he didn't.

Six Hours Earlier

Jules's Living Room

"Man, you stink at backgammon. You know that, don't you?"

"Which is why I only play it when you whine…"

"Well, you haven't got any other good games around here!"

"Yeah, I do! I have… I have UNO. And I have Malarky."

"You can't play Malarky with only two people."

"I know. It's for parties."

"Which you throw so very often." Sam pushed the board away and leaned back on the carpet, his hands under his head. Jules tried to scowl at him, but laughed instead.

"You're right," she said, shifting herself over to his spot and stretching out on the floor next to him. "I guess you're good enough company for me."

"Damn right I am," Sam grinned, turning onto his side to face her.

"…when you're not whining."

"Hey! I don't whine. I just…" he paused for a moment, searching for a suitably euphemistic verb. "I vocalize," he said confidently. "In a polite and mature fashion."

"'Polite and mature', my derriere," Jules murmured, rolling onto her stomach and stretching an arm across Sam's chest. "You whine."

"You love me anyway," Sam said, lightly tracing patterns across Jules's arm.

"Mm hm."

Sam reached over and tousled Jules's hair affectionately.

"We should get a Wii."

"We should get married."

"What?" Sam looked at Jules in confusion. "If you're trying to propose to me, I think I beat you to that by a couple of months."

"I meant sooner. Why can't we get married in November?"

"Because it's already October," Sam said, puzzled. "What's wrong with next June?"

"It's a long time away," Jules said, shrugging.

"But my parents… and your brothers… and all the stuff we'd need to do… we agreed on this, Jules."

"I know. Forget it."

"We can – I mean, we can discuss this if you want, maybe we can do March –"

"Forget it. It's fine." She was on her feet now, returning the backgammon pieces to their box. Sam watched her for a moment, then stood up as well, glancing at his watch.

"I think I'm going to get ready for bed," he said. "That run today wiped me out."

"How fast were you going?" Jules asked curiously, reaching for her iPod and heading towards the kitchen.

"Five minute miles."

"Impressive."

"Thanks." The kitchen sink turned on, and the sound of gently clanking of dishes filled the air.

Sam walked into Jules's bedroom, pulled off his shirt, and removed a pair of his pajama pants from Jules's drawer. He stepped into the bathroom and rummaged through the linen shelves for a clean towel, but only came up with washcloths. Glancing around fruitlessly, he shrugged and headed back to the kitchen.

"Hey Jules, did you do… laundry…"

Sam's voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen. The night's dishes were still stacked in the sink, and the faucet was silent. Jules was sitting at the small kitchen table, her iPod plugged into her ears, staring unseeingly at the wall.

Damn it, Sam thought in frustration. Why again? Why every night?

"Jules," he said gently. There was no response. He tried again, a little louder.

"Jules!"

She jumped.

"Oh – hey, what's – what's going on…" she asked jerkily, pulling the headphones out of her ears.

"You okay?" Sam asked, pulling out the seat across from her. He knew what the answer would be, but he felt the need to ask anyway.

"Yeah, I'm – yeah…" Jules trailed off. Her eyes were dark and troubled again. Sam sighed and drummed his fingers on the table in front of him, unsure of what to say.

"Do you remember that time that I came over and you had a girl sleeping here? When we were broken up?" Jules asked suddenly.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "Um, yes… why?"

"Do you remember that I got really angry and started yelling at you, even though you hadn't done anything wrong?"

"Yes…"

"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "I wish you didn't remember."

Sam blinked uncertainly. He didn't have a clue as to what was going on here.

"Do you remember that time that we were late to my sister-in-law's birthday dinner because you got lost, and I was mad at you the whole night?"

"Yeah, I remember!" Sam said. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

Jules's eyes dimmed.

"Is this the stuff you'll remember about me when I'm dead?"

"What?" Sam's jaw dropped as Jules's jaw set. "What on earth – Jules, stop this!"

"I mean it, Sam!" She stood up from her seat, twisting and knotting her fingers together fretfully. "What's going to happen when I'm gone, and you'll just be thinking about the times we've had together, and that's – that's what you're going to think about! All the awful things that I did!"

"No, I won't!" He was standing too, his arms gesturing emphatically. "That's not what I'll think – what the hell, Jules, you're not dying any time soon, and there'll be a lot more things to remember by then, and anyway there's good stuff, there's lots of good stuff, and – why the hell are we talking about this?!"

"I want you to remember the good stuff when I die," Jules said. "We did have good times."

"What are you talking about?! You're not going to –" Sam stopped suddenly, his heart ice cold in his chest. "Jules," he said slowly. "You're not about to do anything stupid, are you?"

"No!" she immediately exclaimed in revulsion. "No way, I'd never – I'd never do anything like that. But look at our job, Sam, we both could've died hundreds of times, we've both been shot, and who knows, maybe tomorrow some perp is going to pull the trigger before we get him, and they'll be zipping me up in a body bag –"

"Stop it!" Sam shouted. "Stop talking like that! You're not going anywhere, Jules! You're not – you're not leaving me –" his throat constricted painfully.

"What happens when I do?" Jules asked obstinately. "It happens to everyone at some point, and how do you know that I won't kick it tomorrow? Or – or you? What if you're the one who's not here when I come home tomorrow?" She was pacing frenetically now, wringing her white-knuckled hands together.

Sam stared at her helplessly. She took his inability to refute her questions as a sign of concurrence.

"Well, then, I'll make it a bit easier," she announced, marching into the living room. "If you don't have reminders of – of the bad things – it won't be so hard to forget –" As if possessed, she rushed around the room, snatching seemingly random objects from their various places – a mug on the shelf, a postcard on the mantle, a fuzzy pen from a drawer – and throwing them into the garbage can in the corner. Sam remained frozen in place, at a complete loss.

When Jules snatched a framed photo from the mantelpiece, though, Sam's limbs began to function again.

"No!" he cried, sprinting forward and seizing Jules's arm. Her smiling face shimmered up at him mockingly from beneath the glass frame in her hand. "No, don't!"

"I have to," Jules said desperately, trying to free her arm from his grasp. "Do you remember what else happened on the day you took this picture? I don't want you to! I don't want you to remember!"

"No, Jules! You don't have to do this! This is crazy!" Sam shouted.

"So maybe I'm going crazy!" Jules cried, her voice rising hysterically. "But you won't have this picture to remind you of me when I'm dead! You won't! You won't!"

Jules wrenched her arm free of his grip and threw the picture frame as far as she could. It hit the wall over the fireplace and crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

"No –" Sam's brain wasn't functioning, this couldn't be happening –

Jules collapsed to her knees, and she was crying now. She crawled over to the broken photo frame, reached through the glass for the picture, and began tearing it into tiny pieces, heaving with sobs.

Sam found himself at her side in an instant. "Glass," he said numbly, lifting her from the floor. She was so light in his arms -

"Sam," she wept, clinging to his shirt. "Sam…"

"You're – you're gonna be okay," Sam said, but his voice wavered.

"No, I'm not going to be okay," Jules sobbed. "I'm not okay…"

"You just – you just – you need help," Sam whispered. "We're gonna – we're gonna get help."

"No," Jules said, suddenly wide-eyed, "No, I don't want – they're going to take me away, Sam –"

"Don't say that!" Sam said sharply. "I'll find someone who can help you, Jules – I would - I would never let that happen to you."

He set her down on the loveseat, seating himself next to her and smoothing the hair away from her puffy eyes.

"Sam," she said softly.

"Yeah."

"I think I have to give this back to you."

She opened her palm, and a thousand sparkling suns danced from the diamond within it.

Sam had thought that the worst of the night was over. Apparently, he was wrong.

"What are you doing?" he whispered in shock, looking from the ring to her face. Her eyes were shining with fresh tears, but her expression was resolute.

"I'm a wreck," she said wretchedly. "You don't – you shouldn't have to deal with this. This isn't what you asked for, you – you deserve someone better than me…" she wiped her eyes with her free hand. "…someone stronger."

Sam struggled for breath.

"You – Jules, I – don't –" Panic was rendering him incoherent. "Jules, I don't – no –" He pushed her open hand back towards her. "Jules, I don't care – if – whatever happens – Jules, I just –" He placed a shaking hand over hers. "I only want you," he whispered. "I don't care what – what happens, cuz we're gonna – we're gonna get through this, we're gonna make it, Jules. We're going to be okay." His eyes burned with tears. "I'm going to – we're going to talk to a doctor, we'll get help, Jules, we're going to make it. Jules, put – put your ring back on…"

He watched her fingers fumble with the silver band until it rested on her finger once again.

"I was scared that you would want it back," Jules said quietly. "But I had to let you choose."

Sam shook his head wordlessly. He left into Jules's bedroom, reappearing after a moment with a small bottle of sleeping pills in his hand. He shook two pills out into his palm and gave them to Jules along with a paper cup of water. She took them without even asking what they were, then curled up on her side and closed her eyes.

Sam sat and watched her until her ragged breathing became steady, then stood up and began sweeping up the broken glass by the fireplace. He carried the dustbin into the kitchen to empty it out, and spotted Jules's iPod lying on the kitchen table where she had discarded it.

Sam picked up the iPod and scrolled down to the "recently played" list. There was only one song there, one song that seemed all too familiar. He stuck the earbuds into his ears and clicked "play".

I'm strong on the surface
not all the way through
I've never been perfect
but neither have you

So if you're asking me, I want you to know…

Sam made his way back into the living room, flicking off the light as he did so. He wrapped his shoulders in Jules's grey throw and lay down on the couch.

For the first time since he was six years old, Sam Braddock cried himself to sleep.

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
reason to be missed

Please don't resent me
and when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memories
Leave out all the rest

Leave out all the rest