A/N: So, in thinking about moving Sam into the SRU, I realized I had to tread carefully lest I strayed into stalker territory. Hopefully this chapter averts that crisis. It's just a few key moments that happen between this chapter and the next. Anyway enjoy!

It was always the shoes. No matter what else happened in his dreams or who featured the most prominently in them. It was always the shoes that had him waking up in a cold sweat. The sandals. The kind that little girls could slip right onto or off their feet without worrying about the hassle of buckles. The sandals that, no matter what else was going on or where he thought he was, appeared to be sitting abandoned on a sun-drenched pavement marred by the markings of tire treads.

Sam turned his head toward the shadowy lump that was his sleeping bunkmate, relieved that he hadn't woken the other man tonight. Tom wasn't the lightest sleeper, but Sam wasn't always quiet when his dreams haunted the nighttime hours. Sam wasn't afraid of irritating him. Tom understood and even had trouble sleeping himself at times. He just didn't want anyone trying to pry into thoughts he barely understood himself.

Why the shoes? Why not Matt? Why not one of the other atrocities of war? Why the damn shoes? He'd thought he'd made his peace with Abby's death. He'd enlisted. He'd done things that lent themselves to making the world a better, safer place for so many people. Touched the lives of thousands of people he'd never even meet.

He'd done so much good.

He couldn't save the people who mattered most to him. The people who were right there, in his face, needing him not to prevent some bad thing that could happen if he didn't act, but to save them from the bad that was happening at the moment.

"We're there for people at the worst moment of their lives…"

The words floated into his consciousness from somewhere he couldn't immediately place. Then he remembered…

-Flashback-

"Can I ask you something?" Sam asked as they strolled through one of Frankfurt's many parks.

"Shoot," Jules permitted, clearly trying to pretend she didn't need a break and that she was only stopping because of him. She even managed to look exasperated.

"You mentioned in passing that you worked really hard to earn a spot on Team One, even though they choose their own teammates so it all would've been for nothing if they hadn't liked you."

"I missed the question…," she prompted. "Although," she went on to interject, "not liking me wasn't a possibility."

"What made it worth it? It's not like there's any real room for advancement. I mean, you're all constables, right?"

"Except for Sarge," she confirmed. "Team One is the best team in the SRU."

"That's not what I meant… Why the SRU? Or at least, why not aim for something better? Not that it's…"

"No, I know what you mean…" she sighed and he watched her face while she worked out a concise response. "We save lives. Not just that, but we're there for people at the worst moment of those lives, pulling them back from the brink. It's intense, because we have to get in there and connect with these people empathize with them, but the feeling you get when everyone walks out alive?" The look on her face said it all.

-End Flashback-

Suddenly it hit him. He knew, or at least he thought he knew what he needed.

"Tell me you're joking."

Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. One never ever rolled his eyes at the general. Even when he asked a dumb question. When had he ever joked with his father? "I'm serious, sir. I want to leave the army."

"I heard what you said… I was giving you a chance to take it back! Do you know how it makes me look if you do this? Is this about that incident with your unit? Newsflash, they happen. You're a soldier. You know this."

Sam maintained a stony silence this time, as he didn't appreciate his father's condescending attitude. He knew that the general hadn't gotten to where he was without learning for himself that these things didn't just happen. However, what was driving the older man right then was pride. He had fully expected Sam to follow in his oversized footsteps and he wasn't a man who suffered disappointment gracefully. Not from the people who served under him and not from his family. He thought of his sister, Natalie, who was still in the doghouse after that fiasco in Mexico, and how she would once again be elevated to golden child status after this.

"Go back. Be with your troop. Keep piling on the commendations. Prove you're my son."

This was the part where Sam was supposed to concede and walk out with his tail between his legs. Pretend this conversation never happened. The general had laid down the law. Sam knew that, no matter what he said, his father would lose some respect for him if he had come here uncertain enough to be so easily swayed. Almost as much as he would lose some of his own self-respect. Basically, it was a lose-lose situation. "I want to join the Special Response Unit in Toronto. They do good work and I think I'd be able to use my skills there," he stated unequivocally.

And so began a silent battle of wills. Blue eyes challenged gray. Sam needed his father to call in some favors to get him honorably discharged as well as cutting through any red tape where the SRU was concerned. General Braddock wanted his son to be a good soldier and fall in line. Both men stared at each other unflinchingly as though they had all the time in the world when, in reality, they only had had until dinnertime. The general's wife might not be a soldier herself, but she ran a tight ship when it came to dinner. If you were eating it under her roof, you were eating it at her table at seven o'clock sharp. That still gave them a good two hours.

Finally, without a single change in his expression to betray his thoughts, the general stated evenly, "I hear Team 5's sergeant is talking about retirement."

"I don't want to be a sergeant."

Confusion flickered in the older man's eyes. "Then what…?"

"I want to be on Team One. Under Greg Parker."

And so resumed the staring contest.

"Why the hell not sergeant?"

Sam just waited for his father to sort it all out for himself. Cops played by a different set of rules and before he could even think about leading anybody, he needed to learn how to play by them. Then again, he had to wonder if his father had even maintained the level of humility necessary to think along those lines… He discarded the concern, deciding logic would fill in the blanks.

"I'll see what I can do." The concession was made with a distinct lack of grace that had Sam vowing silently that it would be another blue moon before he asked his father for another favor. It wasn't as though he asked all that often, anyway. It was no secret in his house that he was expected to soldier up and make his own luck without a helping hand from the man who now sat across the broad desk from him.

"So…you goin' for it?" Jules asked as she and Rolie worked side by side in the cage cleaning weapons. She'd been itching to get him alone to ask ever since Commander Halderane had made a brief, but sincere suggestion that Rolie put in for sergeant.

"I think maybe I am… I mean, when the commander suggests you put your name in the hat… I don't know, I just feel like this is supposed to be Ed's moment."

Jules scoffed. "Ed isn't going anywhere. Even if his being on leave weren't giving you your time in the team leader spotlight, he'd never leave Sarge. Or Team One. Besides, my friend, I think the commander knows something we don't. Maybe the people higher up a really liking you for sergeant."

It was Rolie's turn to scoff. "You don't know how many people he knows that would make a good sergeant."

"Yeah, but you would make a great one," she retorted, nudging him non-too-gently. "Besides, if you hurry and go, it'd just be Wordy I have to beat out for a turn as team leader. Not even worried about Spike and Lewis," she boasted.

"What about Spike and Lewis?" Spike asked from the doorway.

"Did I hear something about Spike and Lewis being phenomenally amazing?" Lew asked as he walked by the room behind Spike.

"Must've been something along those lines," Spike concluded.

"More like how they're gonna hate the shooting practice I'm cooking up!" Jules retorted.

Spike's groan trailed after him as he followed Lew and Rolie grinned. "Now you're going to have to come up with a real killer."

"I already have. I'd like to see Ed get a hundred percent on it."

Jules grinned mischievously.

Rolie gulped.

"Seriously, though, if you want the promotion, go for it. This kind of opportunity doesn't come along often."

"You trying to get rid of me, Callaghan?"

"What gave me away?" she deadpanned. She didn't really want him to go. He was part of the family and one never wanted to break up a family…but she wasn't about to discourage him, either. She knew he was ready and she wanted him to know he had her full support. Besides, it wasn't as if he was possibly going somewhere far away and she'd never see him again. He'd just be on one of the losing teams during training exercises.

"Now what's that smirk for?"

"Drywall," she lied innocently.