A/N: First of all, thank you to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/favouriting...all the stuffs. Glad you're enjoying this...
While I had quite a bit of fun with the last two chapters (probably a little too much at times), this one I didn't like. There's more Spike/Natalie in this chapter for anyone that's interested, and for anyone that's not it's fairly isolated so feel free to skip that section. I do however promise that any Spike/Nat stuff will come back to Jam/Jam issues/Jam related escapades. Sadly that won't be for a while yet, so for now you have to deal with this chapter.
In case anyone hasn't noticed, I don't do serious well. Actually, I feel I do so rather awkwardly. Hence why some parts of this may be...inappropriately amusing. I kept being all "...and then Sam took off his shirt! No wait... that doesn't fit here..." So. Now that I've lowered your expectations and made you uber excited for this chapter, I'll stop this note and let you read.
One last thing: Fun Fact - as I write this note I still have no idea what I'm titling this chapter. It's the benefit you all get for being in 'the future.' (Yes, Yes it is past my bedtime, how did you know?)

There's no point in making the trip to the hospital. It's too far away. Plus, the second phone call comes within minutes of the first. Instead, cars are packed and the Braddock children, along with their chosen families, make the drive out to the base. They meet Mrs. Braddock, or a shell of what may have once been, as she arrives off the plane to escort her to her increasingly empty home.

Childhood bedrooms, frozen in another time, are scandalized by their sudden occupancy. A twin sized white washed canopy bed, still clad in it's perfectly pink bedspread and frilly pillows, is pushed across the room. It now joins itself with a cushioned window seat - a temporary solution to an issue of too few beds. Questioning eyebrows are wiggled at 80s pop-stars on the walls, ones that stare back with improperly buttoned shirts and too much hair, in an attempt to lighten the mood. They're answered by a small smirk, and a fading interest in the surroundings. Across the hall an air mattress is inflated, blanketed, and situated next to yet another twin sized bed. A small crib, newly freed of cobwebs from nearly 30 years of basement storage, is neatly tucked in the corner of the room. Sure, a hotel might have made for better accommodations, but this trip wasn't budgeted for, nor is about comfort.

Entering the room, Sam checks on a sleeping Noah in the crib, sighing as he takes in their accommodations. "Well, this certainly isn't ideal."

Eyes are rolled as Jules finishes distributing pillows between the bed and the air mattress. "I'm not sure any of this is supposed to be ideal." She gives a sympathetic smile. "How's your Mom?"

He sighs, takes another look around the room. "She fell asleep on the couch. I left her there. She seems pretty comfortable, just tired. I think the plane ride about killed her." Hearing his own words he cringes inwardly.

Jules' expression matches his at the words and seems to be take the opportunity to change the subject. "So, you want the bed or the floor?"

"You're joking."

"Figured I'd ask," she smirks, and lowers herself onto the air mattress, rearranging the pillows to her liking.

"What are you- Jules, take the damn bed."

She grins and pauses a moment in silent protest, before moving to the bed. She watches as Sam finds his place on the air mattress before shutting off the bedside lamp. As the light fades from the room so does the lighthearted nature of previous conversation, and consequently their moods. Sam's unusually quiet, somewhat pensive, as he focuses on some dark corner of the room. After waiting a moment, Jules lets out a sigh. "You ready for tomorrow?"

There's a slight ruffling of blankets, understood to be the result of a shrug, and Sam lets out a sigh of his own in response.

It's the same place. The same one. The same damn cemetery. The same damn cemetery where twenty-some-odd years ago she was buried, left to lie marked by a stone surrounded in teddy bears and flowers, dolls and beaded necklaces. It's all been collected by now, making the site a whole lot more miserable looking. As if that was even possible. Conveniently, the plot next to hers is open. Was open. Now it belongs to him. The General. The title makes it's way onto his headstone, and now he has it forever.

It's a gorgeous day outside - disturbingly so - warm sun and cool breeze, newly fallen leaves floating between headstones. Passing her grave, Sam pauses a moment, takes a deep breath. Hasn't said a word since they left the house - not to his Mom, not to Natalie, and not to Jules. Finding his place in the crowd that's gathered he seems to get a little clingy, finally breaks his silence. "Here," is all he says as he takes Noah from Jules. He's not a happy baby today - must have picked up on what's going on - because he didn't sleep last night. Not well at least. Jules was up with him most of the night out of habit, which made him grateful that he made her sleep on the bed. The air mattress would not have served her well - halfway through the night it deflated and so he basically slept on the floor. He's done it before in that room, on nights when he'd stumble home after a few too many beers downed in secret behind a friend's garage and couldn't be bothered to climb into bed, but the alcohol definitely softened the hardwood.

So now he stands, son in his arms, caught somewhere between his baby sister's grave, his father's casket, and a nightmare. He thinks about Noah, about how he would have loved his aunt had he the opportunity to meet her. Sure, he loves Natalie - can't help but yank on her long hair and giggle maniacally - but he would have loved her too. It's the reason they're there and yet he doesn't really venture into how the death of The General will affect Noah. Sure, when the Braddock grandparents did make their way out to Toronto to visit their first born grandchild The General did do the polite thing and hold Noah - as if he were a bomb about to explode - for the appropriate amount of time before handing him back to his wife, but he never really jumped into the role of Papa Braddock. Like how he never really excelled at the fatherly stuff either. At least, not as far as Sam could tell.

Next to him is Jules. She's got her arm around his Mom, who shakes violently from time to time, trying to steady her own breathing. On the other side of her is Natalie, who's somewhat disconnected from her surroundings. Another one who's been quiet all day. She stares mindlessly at one of the flower arrangements, likely only catching snippets of the words being spoken around her, as Spike stands with a tentative arm around her shoulders.

The service is hitting it's peak, just reaching the part where things get personal, individualized to the deceased, when Noah's grumpy attitude turns to full out wailing. Jules immediately turns to Sam, reaching for the infant so that she can take him away, so as not to interrupt. Instead, Sam shrugs her off, takes him himself. He wanders down a path between stones, only returning when he sees the crowd part.

Jules doesn't say a word about his absence. Just like how she barely fought him on it when he decided to walk away with the baby. Instead she gives a half smile at the now sleeping Noah and hikes the collar of her jacket up as she shivers from a cool breeze. "We should get going. I promised your Mom that Spike and I would look after things back at the house."

Evidently The General had a lot of friends in high places because the gathering is catered, free of charge, so all Spike and Jules really have to do is make sure they clean up before they go. That, and make sure that none of the remaining Braddocks have any kind of meltdown. With Noah asleep upstairs, Sam holds onto the monitor, desperately praying for something to pull him away from the crowd. His Aunt Marlie has been into the wine already, so she keeps wandering by, ranting to Sam about the poor cracker to cheese ratio and asking him when he's going to make the trip out to P.E.I. to visit. You'd never know her only brother just died. There's a reason he avoids that side of the family like the plague.

Most of the base makes an appearance, marching in in shifts to do the honourable thing and offer their condolences. Those should have come long ago, around the time that the military actually took him away from his family. It's all so rehearsed, the words, the actions, and Jules can see the way her mother in law's composure is wavering. She tosses a quick glance at Sam, relaxing as she sees him talking to Spike. It's all the comfort she needs to be sure that he won't need her for the next few minutes. In a performance that she's pretty sure could earn her an Oscar, she interrupts a young soldier as he tows the company line about a man he likely never met. "I'm so sorry but I could really use a hand with the baby, I'm just not sure how to…"

"It's ok dear. Excuse me gentlemen, my grandson needs me." She gives the subtlest of smiles to Jules who replies with a nearly imperceptible nod as she leads the way to the stairs. On the second floor she whispers a small thank you before slumping down in the chair in Sam's room.

"Do you need… umm, can I get you anything?"

The older woman sighs, runs her hands over her face. "No. But thank you for getting me out of there. It was just getting to be a little…"

Jules nods, looks around the room. "I should go check on," Sam? Natalie? The caterers? She's done the funeral thing before, knows what its about, but she can't seem to find her place at this one. "Downstairs." Downstairs? Yeah… in case it's disappeared.

"If you see a cup of tea floating around down there…"

"I'll bring it up."

Spike ends a stretch by resting his feet on the edge of the footboard, in a bed not meant for two. With a quick groan he repositions his legs to the left, then the right, finally settling them half dangling off the bed.

"Can you please stop moving?"

"Sorry." He calms his movements and rotates - yet again - this time to gain a better view of his fiancé. "You ok?"

"Neck hurts."

He nods. "This bed is small."

She makes a half groan in agreement. "I'm worried about Sam."

He simply nods, unsure of what to say to that.

"He's been really quiet. I mean, I wasn't expecting she eloquent speech or anything, but I haven't heard a peep from him since we got here."

Spike sighs. He gets it. Sort of. He supposes he can relate, to some extent. He gets the rocky father-son relationship thing. Gets the death thing. At least when his father died it wasn't sudden and he could at least be there for him when it happened. Sam on the other hand, well, he went from no word from his father in over a month due to a quick, predictable dinner table fallout to attending his funeral.

"...I mean really, come on Sam, put down the damn crackers and show some emotion."

He smirks lightly. He's not sure what the rest of the rant entailed, but he's pretty sure he regrets tuning out. "Yeah. Yeah, it's weird."

Natalie gives a half smile, rolling over to face away from him.

It's odd. He's pretty sure he didn't do anything to piss her off this time - there were no jelly beans in this bed so that can't be it - "You alright?"

"Yeah," she sighs, nods against her pillow. "Tired."

He nods, stretches out once more - as much as he can in a twin sized bed shared with another person - and settles down for the night. It's weird being around another family like this. Weird being around the Braddock family like this. He hadn't expected the complete shift in behaviour from those that remain. Should have, but didn't. He didn't expect Mrs. Braddock to be all hugs and awkward pauses, swooning at his every movement because he's not an ass and felt compelled to help out. He didn't expect Sam to go silent and float around in overprotective-smother-Noah mode instead of dealing with the outside world. He didn't expect Jules to become some Stepford daughter-in-law, though, he supposes, she was just doing the same thing he was. Trying to be there for everyone without being in their way. And Natalie, well. What changed with Natalie? Pausing for a moment he glances over, studying the back of the head next to him. With a frown he rolls over again, tossing an arm around her. He's pretty sure she's never cried herself to sleep before.

"How's that mattress treating you?"

Sam lets out what he hopes is a silent groan, shifting on the spot to relieve the pain growing in his spine. "Fantastic."

With a smirk Jules sits up in bed, peering over the edge and down at Sam. "You look different from this angle."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm used to always looking up at you."

"Cute."

"Come up here." When he responds with a look of confusion she rolls her eyes. "Not for that. We're not doing that in your mother's house. Come up here to sleep."

"There's no way we can both sleep up there. Not well at least."

"Sam, lets break it down here. We've got about 2 more hours before one of us has to be up with Noah, you're sleeping on a hardwood floor and I'm up here shivering. This is stupid. Come up here."

He actually smiles at her logic and gives in, squeezing into bed beside her. There's a few minutes of shifting before they're both comfortable, yawning as the day catches up with them all at once.

"Spike and I were thinking we'd leave after lunch tomorrow. That gives us some more time to visit with your mom and still get home before dinner. Plus, then Noah's nap will fit into the driving time perfectly."

Sam nods, waits a moment. "I was thinking I might stay here a while."

Jules pauses, tries not to let the shock of the statement come out in her voice. "Oh?" She waits, mulls it over a little. "Um, I don't think Noah and I can swing too much longer, really only packed the essentials."

He sighs. He's not big on the idea of not returning home with his wife and son, but he's got a feeling he might be needed elsewhere. "I know, it's just… Mom's got a lot of stuff to sort through with the house and everything. I think she could use a hand."

Jules nods, considers what he's saying. "I thought you said everything was sorted out in the will."

"It was…is… but there's all this legal junk she has to sift through and she's just such a mess right now, I just don't think that-"

"Relax." She can hear the panic in his voice, the way that he's getting defensive as if he's afraid she's about to get mad at him. "I get it. It was just a question."

He takes a deep breath, nods against her back as he pulls her closer to him. "I called Sarge today. He switched some shifts around, put me down for a few sick days, and the team is still off next weekend… gets me a little over a week off." The back of Jules' head indicates a small nod, but she remains silent, making him wonder if she's even awake. "Jules?"

"Yeah."

"You're quiet."

So are you. "Just promise when you come home you'll actually talk about it? I'm not asking for anything huge just… you can't just wallow silently."

"I am not wallowing."

"I didn't mean that you were. Just, you know, I'm here."

After a hectic morning of phone call juggling and baby vomit, Sam chats Noah up while Jules helps Spike get the remainder of the bags into the car. "So now you be a good boy for Mommy. Go to bed when she asks, and don't go bringing any girls home from the park because I don't think Mommy is quite ready for that."

Jules wanders over, one eyebrow reaching towards the sky. "You do realize all he does at the park is stare at passing birds? I don't think we need to worry about girls yet."

Sam smirks, letting his expression fade as he realizes this means the car is ready to leave. "It's just eight days, then I'll stay home for a day before I have to go back to work."

"I know," she nods, fixing Noah's jacket.

"Ok. Call me when you guys get home?"

"Of course." There's an awkward silence, some shifting of feet among the leaves that litter the driveway. Jules rises up on her tip-toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, resting her hand in his as she sighs. "This is so silly. It's eight days. And its not like you'll be in another country, its only a 4 hour drive for crying out loud."

He nods, gives the same half-smile she's giving him. "I'll call everyday. A lot."

She smiles, thinks to herself. "Do you think you could-"

He nods, smiles. "I'll text first so you can turn off the ringer if it's nap time."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Natalie has set up camp, glued to Spike's arm as she says goodbye. Sibling rivalry doesn't go away with age, as is evident by how quickly Natalie decided to stay behind after hearing that Sam would be.

Smirking at the sight, Jules rolls her eyes. "Spike, lets go! You do not want to hit traffic with a post-nap baby in the car!"

A/N: Sorry about the super lame title. The alternate (and probably more entertaining) title comes from Tirsh: "F^&*$&% IT I'm going to bed!"