Hello all. This is my view of what happened post ep.4X03 (which was pretty great I might add). I did have fun writing this and getting into Sam's head is just always great! Anyway, please let me know what you think and enjoy! Also, to all author's of FP, please drop by and check out my forum, The Nook. It's home to discussions, challenges and prompts. We would love to have you. :)
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Flashpoint.
Sitting alone on the couch, Sam slowly drained his beer. Nat had gone to bed a while ago, leaving him by himself to think. Her words were still echoing in his head. He had seen the concern for him in her eyes and heard it in her voice and he couldn't deny that what she was saying had merit. After all, there was no plan between him and Jules, there was no certainty or forseeable future. Those facts were slowly eating away at his heart.
He loved Jules. There was no doubt in his mind on that. She was everything that mattered. Caring, strong, fierce and brilliant. She was the bright light of the team, the one that could make everyone feel better. And she loved him.
But this was wearing him down. The sneaking around. The lying. The weight of the Team's future on their shoulders and choices they made. He was exhausted.
Reaching to the side table, he picked up another beer. Without looking, he popped it open and took a swallow. He knew that sitting alone in the dark drinking was a bit pathetic, but this seemed to be the best way for him to think.
With a ragged sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned back. Out of nowhere, a memory flashed before his eyes. He was suddenly back on that building, Jules behind him as they approached the still form near the edge. He could vividly remember the rush of fear and anger and panic that raced through him as he pulled back the jacket and exposed the pile of gear.
The sight of the decoy had them both looking around frantically, even as they backed away, with Sarg's voice in their ear. Then he had heard the shot. Even now, as he sat in his own apartment, he could remember the second it felt like his heart had stopped beating. Every detail of Jules tumbling to the ground was imprinted in his memory and as he thought back, the feel of her blood on his hands was so vivid, it made his skin crawl.
Jumping to his feet, he went to the kitchen and began to wash his hands just as frantically as before. He could see the red, despite the fact he knew it wasn't there. That same sick fear and pain had returned and was churning viscously in his stomach. If this is what the mere memory of nearly losing her did to him, what was he going to do?
Supporting his weight heavily against the sink, he felt like his insides had been run through a blender. With a rush of bone deep clarity, he realized that losing her again, if not for real then just out of his life, would cripple him. For some reason, he had started to depend on her; not physically but on a level that was equal to needing air. Not having it would be devastating. He didn't know when or how she has started to affect him like this, especially after they had been apart for so long. But he couldn't deny what he was feeling, and quite frankly it was a little terrifying at the same time it was amazing.
Unfortunately, there was still the problem of Toth and his ultimatum against Sam, Jules and the Sarg. There was no way that they would let the vile man destroy their Team. He wouldn't break apart their family if they could stop it. So, what were they going to do?
With a short growl, Sam realized that he had circled back to his original problem. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he turned away from the sink and paced back into the living room. Fingering the phone in his pocket, he tried to convince himself not to press the numbers, but a few seconds later, he found himself dialing. He pressed the phone to his ear and hoped that she wouldn't answer. But she did.
"Jules? We need to talk."