Sam insisted that Jules go straight to bed after she took a quick shower. She lay on her stomach and let him clean and bandage the wound.

"You know, I don't think that doctor meant I had to stay in bed for a week. What if I get a blood clot and…" Jules didn't finish her sentence because she knew how worried Sam had been about her dying.

Sam taped the gauze over the wound and then gently pulled her shirt down and eased himself down beside her and gazed into her eyes. "I just wanna take care of you, Jules," he whispered softly.

She reached over and put her hand lovingly on his face. "I know you do, Sam." She carefully scooted closer to him and rested her head against his chest. "I'm glad you're here."

Once Jules was sound asleep, Sam eased out of the bed and went to take his own shower. He had spent the past three nights at the hospital and he was pretty sure that he was starting to stink. He savored the hot water that seemed to relieve some of the tension he was feeling.

Once out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to the kitchen to get a drink. To his surprise, he found Jules doing the same thing.

"Sorry," she apologized, looking like a little kid who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I was thirsty, and you were in the shower."

Sam grinned. "It's fine. I wouldn't want you to get a blood clot and di—" he stopped himself mid-sentence, just like Jules had done earlier. He finally felt like making a joke about the shooting.

Jules came over and kissed him quickly, then headed back to the bedroom to lie down. "Put some clothes on, Braddock, and come keep me company."

Sam watched her go, a strange gleam in his eyes. She looked so damn attractive in her gym shorts and tank top. If only she wasn't wounded right now…

That night, Jules was sound asleep in her bed when she heard something coming from the spare room next door where Sam was sleeping. She sat up slowly and could hear him tossing and turning.

Slowly, she crept out into the hallway and tip-toed to his doorway. He was moaning in his sleep and mumbling something about her and the shooting.

"Sam?" she called quietly. He didn't wake up, so she walked closer to the bed. "Sam?" she called again.

This time, he awoke with a start and sat up in the bed. "No!" he gasped. "Jules, no!"

She sat down beside him and took his face in her hands. "It's all right, Sam. I'm right here, I promise."

He looked at her and ran his hands down the sides of her arms, as if trying to make sure she wasn't part of his nightmare. "You're okay?" he whispered.

"I'm right here, Sam," Jules assured him. "It was just a nightmare."

Sam ran a hand over his eyes and Jules switched the bedside light on. "You're trembling," she commented. "And you're soaking wet."

Sam's shirt was drenched in a cold sweat and he was indeed shaking. The nightmare had really scared him.

"What were you dreaming about?" Jules asked softly,

"Nothin'," Sam insisted, pulling his wet shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor.

"You were saying my name in your sleep, Sam," she told him. "You were obviously dreaming about something that had to do with me." She put an arm around Sam and leaned her head against his bare back.

"It was about the day you got shot. It was…worse. I—I saw the whole thing happen and I was powerless to do anything," Sam admitted.

Jules sighed. "You've gotta let this go, Sam. I'm fine. I'm healing great and we're fine—we're together. I love you and that's all you need to think about."

Sam nodded and rubbed his eyes again. "I know." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Fall asleep with me?"

In just a few minutes, Sam was lying back on the pillow with Jules' head against his bare chest. She was breathing calmly and he could smell her fragrant shampoo as he stroked her long brown hair.

"Don't get any ideas, mister. I'm still wounded and I'm still traditional," Jules whispered drowsily.

" I wasn't getting any ideas," Sam told her. "But now you've put it in my head!"