Author's Notes: I apologize again for the long wait. My life is still pretty crazy right now. Hopefully after this week, things will calm down some and I won't be running around quite so much and can update with a little more consistency. And only about five weeks of school left until summer. I can't wait! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and the networks who air the episodes. Since the show has ended, our only way of getting new Flashpoint is through fan fiction. This story is my attempt to help fill the void, and the only profit I make is the warm fuzzy feeling reviews give me. Anything that does not come directly from the show is my own creation and should not be used without my permission.

Break Out

Chapter 16

"Easy there. Watch that step. Do you want to settle on the couch or go straight upstairs to the bedroom?" Sam kept his hand firmly on Jules's back as they made their way up the front walk to the door to the house they'd officially been able to share after their relationship was allowed to be in the open.

Jules resisted the urge to grit her teeth as she stepped down on a loose pebble on the walkway, sending it skittering away. She managed to keep her balance without having to reach out and take Sam's arm. The limp in her injured leg was so slight that it was almost imperceptible except for someone watching her intently. Like Sam. "If I take it any easier, I'll be moving backwards. I see the step, and I'll climb it without any problems. How about neither?"

The irritation in her voice as she responded to his comments was just a little more pronounced than her limp. She knew he meant well; he was concerned and doing his level best not to just scoop her up and carry her from the Jeep to the house. She gave him credit for that. It wasn't his fault that his protective nature was running afoul of her dislike of being smothered with attention when injured.

Once they were both at the door and Sam was putting the key into the lock, Jules reached out and covered his hand with her own. Then she leaned against the door, looking at him. "Sam, I'm sorry. I know you're just watching out for me."

Sam pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "And I know you hate having me or anyone hovering over you. So no worries. Let's get inside and we'll try to reach a compromise we'll both be happier about. Okay?"

Jules nodded and allowed him to unlock the door. His hand immediately went right back to the small of her back, but its presence there was simply a touch of reassurance rather than as a protective guide she didn't need.

For a moment, irrationally given her earlier outburst, she almost wished he would scoop her up in his arms and cradle her so close to his body that she felt completely enveloped. It had been a long night. Hospitals weren't very conducive to sleeping, especially not the way they were accustomed to sleeping. Last night had been no exception. She'd quietly suggested that Sam go home to sleep but it was evident it wasn't what she really wanted. Sam had pressed her on it and she admitted that as much as she wanted him to crawl up in the bed beside her to sleep, she was pretty sure her leg and ribs wouldn't let that happen this time. She didn't want him trying to sleep in that uncomfortable chair all night when he could be getting real sleep at home in their bed. Sam had emphatically insisted that he wasn't going anywhere. He assured her that he wouldn't sleep any better at home without her than he would in the chair. During one of her rounds, the nurse realized what the problem was and had solved the dilemma. A patient down the hall had just checked out and had had in his room a stroke chair, a sort of small recliner that made it easier for stroke patients to get in and out of while recovering. She'd wheeled it down to Jules's room and parked it right next to Jules's bed. It wasn't the most comfortable way of sleeping but it was better than either alternative that they were looking at.

Even with Sam sleeping as close to her as he possible could and with his hand softly skimming her arm until they both drifted off to sleep, rest didn't come easily. Dreams assaulted her almost immediately and without ceasing. Dreams that consisted of actual memories of the events of the day as well as ones that had been distorted to what could have happened plagued her every attempt to really sleep. She managed to keep from whimpering or crying out, but she was pretty sure Sam had been hyper aware of every bad moment she'd experienced during the night. He was too light a sleeper, too cognizant of everything about her to not notice. If she had called out to him or said anything, he would have been there, but she hadn't been ready to confront those memories at the time, so she'd pretended to believe he was sleeping soundly.

Now, even if Sam sensed part of her might want it, he didn't pick her up, knowing she needed the independence more than she wanted the comfort. However, as soon as the door was closed behind them, he drew her into his embrace and cupped her face in his hands. "I believe you mentioned wanting something besides either the couch or the bed. How about telling me what that is and we'll make it happen. Are you hungry? It's pretty close to lunch time and I know you didn't really care for those powdered eggs they served you for breakfast."

"I want - no, more like need - a shower."

Sam sighed. Jules frowned. "It's not what you're thinking, Sam. I'm not trying to wash away what happened. It's been about 36 hours since I've had a shower and I feel gunky. You were able to take advantage of the shower in the hospital room last night but I wasn't so lucky."

Sam gave her a wry smile though he was sure wanting to wash away the stench of the prison and everything that had happened did factor in somewhat to her desire to take a shower. "I wasn't thinking that. I was just wondering how we're going to do that when you can't get your stitches wet. They aren't exactly in a position that's easy to keep dry."

Jules had already taken into consideration the stitches. In fact she'd thought long and hard about it while she'd almost jealously listened to Sam take his shower the night before. "I'll do it the same way I did when I couldn't get my arm wet or after I was shot or one of the hundreds of other times I've had stitches. I'll wrap my leg in plastic wrap to keep them dry. In fact, I'm pretty sure I still have the supplies I need tucked away in one of the drawers in the bathroom from the last time I needed them."

Sam nodded. He should have known she would have worked out all the logistics before even mentioning it. "Okay, then a shower it is. Want me to help you?"

Jules shook her head. She took a step back, poking him lightly in the chest. "You and I both know what happens any time we try to take a shower together. And as much as I would love taking advantage of having your naked body pressed against mine, I know my leg isn't up for that much of a work out just yet. Maybe you think you could behave and make it just a shower, but I know I couldn't. So thank you but I can manage on my own. Besides, you mentioned food and now that's got me hungry. How about you putting together something for us for lunch and then after we eat, I promise I'll spend the rest of the day on the couch or in bed or wherever if that's what you want."

Sam pulled her close to him and kissed her tenderly. There was a promise in the kiss, one that said that later they would take advantage of any opportunity she could handle. When he finally pulled back, his blue eyes met her brown ones. "It's not that it's what I want exactly. The doctor's orders were for you to take it easy for the next couple of day and I want you to do what he says. I know you want that as well because you want to be able to return to work for our next scheduled shift. So go get your shower and I'll get lunch ready. Anything in particular you want me to fix?"

Jules considered the question thoughtfully. "BLT Panini's?"

Since they'd bought a Panini press recently, sandwiches had become one of Jules's favorite go-to meals. He wasn't surprised in the least by her request. "Light on the mayo, heavy on the bacon, right?"

Jules nodded, her smile warm and genuine. She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. "You know me so well."

Sam pulled her gently to him and ran his hand lightly up and down her back. "Haven't you realized by now that you are my favorite field of study? And just so you know, after we eat, I'm all for taking you upstairs so we can pick up where we left off last night. I think it was somewhere around here." He allowed one hand to move around to her front and graze the inside of her thigh, still well below the juncture where her legs met her hips.

Jules felt her heart rate quicken in anticipation. Her voice was breathy and low as she answered. "I actually think you were a little higher."

Sam's grin was infectious and roguish. "I know exactly where I was, but I also know that if I touch you there right now, you won't get your shower or lunch. I think both of those things are more important for you right now. No matter how much I want to explore every inch of your beautiful, sexy body and show you how much I love you and how glad I am that you are okay. And as much as I think you want that as well, you know I'm right. Besides, we've got all the time in the world for everything I have in mind."

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that nothing was more important than what he was offering, but deep down she knew he was right. She'd enjoy everything he had to offer much more if she had a chance to clean up first. So, Jules gave him another quick kiss and turned toward the stairs. Each step up was a painful reminder of the injuries she'd sustained to the point she had to grip the banister tightly to keep from crying out in pain. She could feel Sam's eyes watching every move she made, but to his credit, he didn't rush up the stairs to her aid.

Once in the bedroom, Jules made a beeline for the bathroom. Sure enough, the plastic wrap and tape were in the drawer where she'd put them after the explosion in the bio lab had necessitated the need to once again keep stitches dry while she showered. She avoided looking in the mirror as she retrieved the items and returned to the bedroom. Normally she neither hated nor loved a mirror. Instead she saw it as a necessary part of her morning routine much the same way she viewed her toothbrush or deodorant. Something to neither avoid nor pay homage to.

Generally Jules had a healthy opinion of her looks. She didn't consider herself someone who would turn heads with her beauty nor did she think she would turn stomachs either. She simply was who she was, and that was good enough for her. Each morning she could stand in front of the mirror as she got ready for work without feeling vain or repulsive. Today though she couldn't bring herself to face her reflection. She didn't think she could look at her bruised face or butchered hair without the events of the day before washing over her and overwhelming her. She also didn't want to look herself in the eye and face the lies she'd told the night before to one of her dearest friends. So she avoided the mirror as much as she could.

She placed the plastic wrap and tape on the bed and started to slip out of the yoga pants Sam had brought to the hospital. A shiver ran down her spine before she could ease the material down her hips to pool at the floor. Without thinking about it, she went to the bedroom door and closed it firmly. It wasn't that she wanted to keep Sam out but she couldn't deny feeling a little self conscious and in need for a semblance of privacy. The door wasn't much of a barrier anyway, especially since she hadn't locked it, but it being closed made her feel better.

She returned to the bed and shed her pants and panties. With an expertise she wished she didn't have, she quickly covered her leg and taped the plastic wrap in place. Satisfied that her stitches wouldn't get wet, she stood and slipped off her t-shirt as well. She dumped both the top and the pants into the wicker hamper next to the dresser and then entered the bathroom.

Once again she carefully avoided looking in the mirror. She knew she'd have to survey the damage, especially to her hair, eventually, but she wanted to put it off a little longer. Stepping to the shower, she turned on the taps, mostly hot with just enough of the cold that she wouldn't scald her skin. After checking the temperature, Jules slipped out of her underwear and then stepped into the shower.

For a few minutes, Jules was content just to stand beneath the spray and let the hot stinging needles of water rain over her. After a long shift, the cascading massage was just what her aching muscles needed and this was no exception. The only thing that would feel better would possibly be lying on her stomach on the bed and allowing Sam to knead his fingers deeply into her muscles. She was pretty sure he'd be reluctant to do so right then though. While his massages worked magic on her tense, overworked muscles, she was fairly sure he wouldn't want to risk hurting her, especially since she was positively sure her body was pretty bruised up from the day before.

Not wanting to risk running out of the soothing hot water, Jules reached for her shampoo and pour a small dollop of the liquid in her hands. The powerful scent of pomegranate and green tea assaulted her senses. A hard shudder ran down her spine as memories from the day before refused to be denied

The prison-made knife moved away from her face and the tugging on her head increased momentarily. Then with a sick grin he brought his hand around to reveal a chunk of her hair that he'd cut with his shiv. He brought the hair to his nose and gave it a sniff. His grin widened. "Nice, fruity. Not strawberry though. What kind of fruit flavor is that?"

Jules stared unseeingly at the shampoo in her now shaking hand. It was just shampoo; nothing that she should be scared of, but she was starting to shake like a scared rabbit. The memory continued.

"It's not polite to ignore an asked question. Answer me or I swear I'll cut you baldheaded and pass around samples for all the boys to smell until someone comes up with the answer. Now, which would you prefer?"

Jules shook her head. "I thought you didn't want them all excited and thinking with parts of their anatomy other than their brains. What do you think smelling a woman's hair will do to them? Then again, maybe you aren't using your brain to do your thinking either. Here I'm thinking you wanted out of here but instead of working toward getting that accomplished, you're worrying about my shampoo."

"It's a simple question. Not like I'm demanding you tell me how Browning came in here and why he rescued the guard. I just want to know what type of shampoo you use. Do you know how long it's been since I've smelled scented shampoo?" He nudged up against her again so she couldn't help but feel his reaction.

Don't antagonize them. Sarge's words came back to her, as clear as if he was speaking right in her ear. Whatever is going on in there, just remember, you aren't alone in this. We've got your back and we're going to get you out safely. "Pomegranate. It's pomegranate and green tea shampoo."

Dog grinned and sniffed the locks he'd cut off once more. "Lovely. I can't wait to bury my nose fully into your hair and not just the hair on your pretty little head. Who knows, you might even like it. I bet I'll be able to show you moves you ain't never seen before." He pressed himself closer into her. Close enough that he could probably feel the rapid beating of her heart, a beating that had gotten more rapid with his close proximity. She thought she would have more time before she had to once again worry about the prospect of being assaulted.

Feeling almost sick to her stomach, Jules let the water from the shower head wash away the shampoo from her hand without even raising it to her hair. She'd used the same shampoo for a couple of years now but the idea of smelling that particular scent was more than she felt was fair for her to even think about enduring just for the sake of being tough.

Tears filled her eyes and overran her lower lid to slide down her cheeks. She reached instead for Sam's more generic shampoo. As she lathered up her hair, she knew he would notice the change in the way her hair smelled probably almost immediately and would probably suspect the reason for it. But she was also pretty sure that despite the fact that his eyes would have even more a concerned look in them than they currently had, that he would understand and wouldn't question her about it. There would probably be other questions, but not about her choice of shampoo.

Jules rinsed the suds from her hair and then reached for Sam's shampoo to repeat the process. She wanted to make sure she stripped all traces of the pomegranate and green tea from her hair. As she ran her fingers through her hair, she could get a pretty good sense of the "haircut" Dog had given her. Her mind drifted unconsciously back to a case from a few years earlier at the mall when a young girl had been the victim of a group of gang girls seeking retribution. Her hair had been butchered, blonde strands practically littering the public bathroom floor; Jules knew her own wasn't quite that bad although a professional would have to even things out.

It shouldn't bother her, but it did. She wasn't the type to worry extensively over her looks. She was pretty much a low maintenance girl and that had always been good enough for her. As Sam had reminded her in the ER, she'd even been thinking about trying a new hairstyle. However, she liked her hair the way it had been, or rather she liked the idea of being able to wear her hair down and styled when she was off shift but yet be able to pull it back into a more practical ponytail or French braid at work. To her it was almost a way to separate the two worlds. At work she was one of the guys, but on her own time she could express her completely feminine side. A dichotomy that most of the guys she worked with, with the possible exclusion of Sam, wouldn't understand the need for. Now she was pretty sure that the haircut she'd have to get to even up and style what Dog had done to her would make that duality difficult, at least for a little while.

The tears that had started flowing as she remembered Dog cutting off the first swatch of her hair and sniffing it like the animal his name implied he was increased now until she was almost full out sobbing. She didn't even think she was crying over one thing in particular. Everything she'd been keeping pent up was finally boiling over and she didn't try to stop the tears from flowing. There was a sort of safety to crying in the shower. The tears helped to cleanse her inside the way the water and soap could cleanse her outside and the spray of the shower helped to ensure the evidence of the crying jab was washed away at the same time.

For a few moments, she just stood there, her palms flat against the cool tile of the shower. She turned her face up toward the showerhead as the shampoo and her tears were rinsed away. When the tears finally seemed to subside, she took a slight step backward and reached for her body wash and wash cloth. Her hands were shaking even more now but she ignored that as she poured a generous portion of the -thankfully- non-fruity scented body wash onto the cloth. She began to wash off, not making conscious thought of the fact that her hands lingered longer on her collar bone and breasts, the spots that Snake had concentrated on with either his hands or mouth during those moments he'd tried to take what he'd wanted.

The water was more cool than hot when she finally turned off the taps. Stepping out of the shower, she saw Sam standing just inside the bathroom, leaning on the door jamb. She'd sensed rather than seen when he'd entered so his presence now didn't startle her. She didn't say anything as she wrapped her slick wet hair up in a small thin towel and then started drying her body off with a larger, thicker towel. Only once she'd wrapped it securely around her mostly dry body did she take a step toward Sam and into his opened, waiting arms.

His embrace, which always felt comfortable and inviting, seemed even more secure in that moment. She rested her head against his broad, reassuring chest. The sound of his heart, steady and slow, calmed the last of her frazzled nerves until she was pretty sure her own heart was beating in the same rhythm as his. When she finally lifted her head to look up at him, she wasn't surprised to see him smiling down at her. He kissed her forehead.

"I wasn't trying to hover." Sam explained needlessly. "I know you are quite capable of taking a shower without any interference on my part, but I couldn't stay away. I know you are okay and I also know you don't like feeling smothered by attention, but …"

Jules silenced him with a kiss before finishing for him. "But you were scared shitless yesterday not knowing what was happening and you need the reassurance that I'm okay. It's okay. I get it and I'm not upset that you are here. Unless that means I'm not getting my BLT Panini."

Sam grinned at her. Keeping his arm lightly around her back, he led her to the bedroom so she could get dressed. "All that's left is actually putting them in the Panini press. I've got it pre-heating now. I didn't want to put the sandwiches on the heat up until you were through with your shower. I wanted them to still be hot when we sat down to eat."

When they were standing next to the bed, Sam gave her towel a slight tug so that it dropped in a pool at her feet. He wasn't trying to delay lunch; his intent wasn't sexual at all. Instead, he needed to see with his own eyes the extent of the damage. He'd only gotten bare glimpses while Jules was in the hospital, and the need to know was getting the better of him.

Almost as if she knew exactly what he was doing, Jules just stood there, not feeling exposed or uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. His hand hovered but never really touched her as he took in every mark on her body. Her own eyes were locked on his face, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide his emotions to her. She could see the pain and anger reflecting there as he took in the bruises on her collar bone where Snake had left his mark with his mouth.

Once he'd had the opportunity to give her a thorough visual inspection, Jules reached up and touched the side of his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her voice was steady as she assured him. "Sam, I really am okay. Yeah, I may be bruised and a little shaken but I'm alive and unbroken. Okay? There was nothing you or the team could have done to stop what happened. Don't blame yourself for anything that did happen. Instead remember that you did make sure you got me out before anything really bad could happen. That's the important part, right?"

Sam let her words sink in like a balm to his aching soul. He knew exactly what she was trying to tell him. She knew him as well as he knew her. She knew that he, probably from the moment he'd had to watch on the camera exactly what Snake was trying to do to her, had felt guilty about not rushing in and putting a stop to it right away. She was, without outright saying it, absolving him of that guilt. He sighed. "Doesn't change the fact that I wish I could somehow change everything that had happened."

Jules snorted as she reached down and gave the plastic wrap on her leg a slight tug releasing the tape's hold. Then she moved to the dresser to get clean clothes. "You and me both. But at the same time I can't overlook the good side, and yes, there is a good side to all of this. If I hadn't been there, the break out probably would have been successful. I don't like that I was hurt any more than you do, but I can stand the pain knowing that each bruise and injury ended up leading to dangerous criminals not going free. We kept the peace yesterday."

She dressed as quickly as her injuries would allow, being careful to curb the instinct to groan with each painful reminder that she was hurt. Then she looked back at Sam. "And don't think I don't know you're standing over there wishing it had been you in my place."

Sam had the grace to look embarrassed. "Guilty. Yeah, I was thinking it but I wouldn't have said it out loud. I know it would just make you mad and it would diminish the role you played in stopping things. I hate seeing you hurt; I always have and always will, but I know it's part of the job. A part I hate, but a part nonetheless." He watched as she finished putting on her clothes and started towel drying her hair. He could tell it was putting a strain on her sore ribs so he took her by the hand and once again, led her back to the bed. He motioned for her to sit and then he took the towel from her. She let out a sigh of contentment as he took over drying her hair for her.

When it was damp but no longer dripping wet, Sam tossed the towel toward the hamper. He cupped her face gently in his hands. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to show her. Something - anything - that would take away the pain he was seeing in her eyes; pain that her injuries had nothing to do with. But that was a discussion that would have to wait until they really had the time it would take to fully discuss everything. So he settled for what he could fix instead. "Ready to eat?"

She nodded and let him gently pull her to her feet. He kept his arm around her waist as they started down the stairs. Jules recognized that it was as much for his need to be in contact with her than any worry that she couldn't support herself on her injured leg, so she didn't protest. Once in the kitchen, she settled herself at the table while Sam quickly put the sandwiches in the press and closed the lid. While the sandwiches were heating up, he went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of cans of soda. After setting them on the table, he went to the counter and retrieved a couple of paper plates and a bag of chips. Clean-up after lunch would be simpler if they just had to throw things away than wash things up. Jules felt guilty leaving him all the work to do but knew better than to protest. So she let him pamper her knowing he needed to feel like he could do something for her.

Once the sandwiches were ready, he placed the plate in front of her and sat down on the other side of the table. Jules picked up her sandwich and took a bite. A satisfied smile formed as she chewed and swallowed. "Perfect."

Sam smiled as well and then ducked his head slightly. "It's only a sandwich. Not anywhere near the caliber of Sophie's cooking."

Jules reached across the table and gave his hand a quick squeeze but didn't release it. "Sam, you don't have to cook like Sophie. She's a caterer. You're not. I'm quite sure if we put her on the long range with a Remy, she probably wouldn't even come close to the target. This sandwich is cooked exactly how I like it. And it was prepared by someone who loves me and takes really good care of me even when I give him a hard time about it. That's what makes it perfect. So there."

His grin widened as he caressed the side of her hand with his thumb. "I'm glad you like it. And I'm always going to want to take care of you, probably especially when you give me a hard time about it because those are the times you need it the most. And I really do love you."

"I love you too." It was a promise as much as a statement.

The rest of lunch was spent in companionable silence. It was one of the things Jules loved most about her relationship with Sam. They were comfortable with each other and neither felt the need to fill every moment of quiet with conversation just to be saying something. Jules could tell there was something on Sam's mind and knew the time was coming when she'd finally have to talk about what had happened in the room while she was being held captive. Sam wouldn't pry but he knew (as she did even if she didn't want to admit it) that the quicker she got it off her chest and discussed it, the quicker she could get past the pain. She also knew he wouldn't push her to open up until after lunch was over. With that in mind, she thought about lingering over the meal for as long as she could, delaying the inevitable. But despite the way she'd handled certain things in the last twenty four hours, she wasn't the type to delay the inevitable.

Once they were both finished and the table cleared, Sam once more took her hand and led her to the living room. They settled on the couch. Jules would have been content to snuggle in close to Sam and use his body as her pillow prop. Instead, he moved to the other end of the couch and pulled her feet up into his lap. She sighed. Now the conversation would begin and Sam wanted to be able to see her face to face. His hand almost absently ran up and down the outside of her uninjured leg. His sigh was even deeper. He didn't want to do this any more than she did.

"Jules, I've put it off as long as I can but we've got to talk about this."

"I know." Her admission was so softly spoken that he had to strain to hear it. She braced herself for the questions she knew were coming. However, she was caught off guard when the first question finally came.

"Jules, yesterday Spike was torn up and snapping at the me and everyone else. Then when I came back from getting coffee and donuts he was back to being his normal loveable self, like nothing had ever been wrong. I know you and I know you have the ability to defuse tense situations but that complete one eighty just doesn't make sense. What exactly did you tell him?"