Over

Set during 4x10 The Cost Of Doing Business, contains heavy SPOILERS for the episode. If you have yet to see it (in which case you need to PM me so I can pass you on to a Youtube page) proceed at your own risk.

A/N: This is my very first Flashpoint fanfic and I am a bit overwhelmed about putting this out there when there are so many extremely talented Flashpoint writers. Seriously this fandom is blessed with some of the best writers I have ever read. Major hugs, props, snaps, and much love to Syuuri, who practically handheld me through the whole process; this story is dedicated to her. Anyway let me know your thoughts, what works, what doesn't. Thank you for reading. ~Delysia

Part One: Beginning

The word eggs hangs in the air, the invitation to take Jules to an out of the way diner he found dying before it passes from his lips.

She isn't even looking at him. She doesn't even close her eyes and take a breath, a habit Sam knows from when she is trying to hold it all in, a sign that he has crossed a line, annoyed her when she is too tired or painted her door jam with uneven brush strokes or failed to resist the urge to brush his hand against hers as they ride the elevator up to headquarters. Instead her brown eyes are glued to Greg, and he can tell she is reading him, pleading without words.

It's over.

He makes his way down the remaining stairs with legs that feel like lead, his knees resisting the movement, a little slow to bend and he wonders why he didn't wait until she came up stairs, why he didn't recognize the sound of Sarge's voice. Jules was right, he had been getting sloppy, happiness does that to a person.

Not that it matters now. It's all over.

He perches on the bottom step and his sniper trained hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, the one Jules had bought. She had it waiting at his apartment last week. She told him she had been shopping and saw it, something about the color reminding her of him. At the time it had made him grin, teasing her about thinking about him with a leer on his face as he watched a subtle blush appear on hers. Now he wonders if he will even be able to look at it again and not feel a sick sour feeling in his stomach. He reckons he should burn it. He makes a mental list of what, if anything, he needs to take with him when Jules inevitably tosses him out and he can't think of a thing, nothing he needs anyway, nothing he can take. He thinks about the taking the flowers on her counter just out of spite, he had bought them last night. They will probably last another few days at least, which is more than he can claim for him and Jules.

Sarge is pacing and licking his lips, never a good sign. Sam knows that body language, their fearless leader is feeling cornered, no solution in sight. Sam sighs, welcome to his world.

Jules moves closer to him, leaning against the post of the stairs, but its not close enough; just making space for Greg to move. Sam refuses to let himself over analyze her, he doesn't try to profile her, he's been burned by that before. Figuring Julianna Callaghan out would take a lifetime, he figures he will be lucky if he gets the rest of the morning.

They really didn't get enough time.

He tries anyhow, because honestly he has nothing to loose. It doesn't matter how this plays out, if she stands by him or not. If she looses her job, her team, her family, because of them, because she chose him, that's it. She will never move past it. They will never be the same people who spent last night laying in her bed arguing over the remote. He wishes he had just let her watch whatever stupid DIY show she had wanted.

"Have you seen our performance slip? Has there been one moment-"

Greg rounds on him, cutting him off. "It takes one moment. This whole team is still on probation..."

The rest of the words fizzle out against Sam's ears, white noise amidst the destruction of his life. It was a lie anyway. He had meant to say her, have you seen her performance slip, but he doubted Jules would have appreciated his singling her out, no final romantic gesture even. He doubts there will even be coffee this time.

His performance at work, it probably hadn't slipped, he couldn't let it when her life was always on the line but it would be a lie to claim that she doesn't affect him. She is his everything.

Was, was his everything. He is going to get used to that. Get used to seeing his shower with out her shampoo, his couch without her throw, and he will need to remember to set his alarm in the morning, no blender whirling to wake him up.

He resists the urge to run a hand through his hair. He should have stayed in bed, maybe then this wouldn't be happening. He should have taken her up on the smoothie she had offered earlier. Now he will never get another one.

He wishes he could go back, just be on a team with her, be near her; even after she dumped him, even when name Steve made him want to break something. At least then she was close. They are going to be separated now, different teams, if they are allowed to stay on at SRU at all. It's not looking good. If they are made to leave SRU she really will be gone. He isn't delusional to think their relationship can withstand it, it can't even withstand this.

The aftermath is going to be brutal. How will he make it through a week without seeing her, without hearing about her latest home improvement project, watching her brush her bangs out of her face when she is irritated; how will he get through the day without knowing that she is okay? The thought makes him nauseous, a life without Jules.

Greg and Jules are discussing the Priority of Life Code, if what they are doing can be called a discussion, more like two desperate people fighting for a way out of this mess and all Sam can do is just sit and listen, shut up and take it like a good little solider.

The General is going to love this, first JTF2 and now SRU; Christmas is going to be a special type of hell this year. He'd been planning on tagging along with Jules to The Hat and skipping the yearly Braddock interrogation altogether, so much for that.

Jules is insisting that they put others ahead of each other, that they will follow the code and another time it would make him smile, watching her go toe to toe with Sarge, defending them. He almost does, the corner of his lip turn up before she is looking at him; it's the first time since he came down those stupid stairs and blew their world apart. She wants him to chime in and agree, to help fix this mess. It reminds Sam of a porcelain figurine his mom had growing up; he and Natalie accidentally broke it and no amount of glue ever made it whole again. Jules' eyes plead for the impossible and Sam wants to, he wants to keep Jules, the job too, but he just sits silently. First rule of negotiation- never lie. They don't have enough glue to fix this mess.

She is crazy if she thinks for one second he would put anyone's life ahead of hers. Screw the code, what does Dr. Toth know about any of it?

Sam had stood at his best friend's funeral, stood at his little sister's funeral and knew, just knew that it was his fault. Another choice and they would still be here. What does Dr. Toth know about that? About responsibility and grief and loss so powerful that it makes you burn? He doesn't know a thing, not a damn thing.

He doesn't know Jules.

Dr. Toth hadn't been on that roof, hadn't watched that armor piercing bullet rip through her, hadn't seen her fall back, her body hitting the ground was a muffled thud. He didn't see her at the hospital, machines beeping, tubes crossing her body, too weak to even open her eyes. Where was the good doctor when Jules had taken her first steps afterward, her face contorting in pain as she struggled to shuffle her slippers along the linoleum? He hadn't seen her struggle to dress herself, heard the hiss of pain every time she shifted, watched her fight tooth and nail to come back to the team. He knew shit about Jules. There are some things you can't get from reading a transcript.

So to hell with the Dr. Toth and the code.

He has tried, tried to keep it purely professional when they were out on a call. He had been trained by the best to lock it all away, compartmentalize and focus on the job at hand. He clamped down on the bubbling fear whenever she was too close to the danger. He didn't have a choice, it's not like Jules would ever take a desk job, she would have hurt him for even thinking about it. There was no choice. He has to be on his game 100 percent of the time, has to be professional, has to be perfect, if not...

It doesn't matter now. It's over and, if by some miracle, she is allowed to stay on at SRU, he will never be on the same team. He will never be close enough to save her, to protect her, to make up for the time when he hadn't been able to; he won't be able to do penance for the scar that marks her left side. It will just be there forever, someone else he failed.

"Do you know what the worst part is? I knew."

That catches his attention; Sarge knew. He is looking at Sam as he speaks, too directly, like he doesn't want to implicate Jules. It screams guilt.

That can't be right, she's perfect. Sam can't think of a call when she hadn't blown him away. She's a brick wall, focused and unyielding. She kept to the code, she would always keep to the code. When did she ever... oh, a ghost of a memory washes over him.

"Braddock, you are suppose to leave the bombs for the demolition guys." It wouldn't have mattered so much if her words hadn't been so rushed, if she hadn't had that quiver of fear in her voice that team rarely heard. Is that when Sarge knew?

That couldn't be it. It wouldn't be fair.

That was the moment when it had sunk in, her fear laden voice coming over the comm link, she felt it too. He should have realized it earlier, back when she was standing in his apartment after a double drop that had left her ankle slightly swollen and instead of going home to ice it and huddle under her million blankets with another home improvement show, she had chosen to be with him. He hadn't trusted himself to really believe it back then but when her voice came out, shaken and worried, it finally dawned on him. She chose him.

He doesn't let himself hope she still will, he's just destroyed years of her blood, sweat, and tears. It's unforgivable. He can't believe he let her risk everything for him, a better person wouldn't have; someone a little less head over heels would have had the foresight to stop her when she showed up, sweet sweater and a dress that reminded him of spring.

He stifles a groan. He knows Sarge might go down with them for this. He feels bad but not as bad as he should. If he had it to do over again he would still pick Jules. He would always pick Jules.

He is waiting for the hammer to come, he just needs this over with. He can't keep sitting so close to her and not reach for her, he can't wait any longer for his world to crumble around him. Just say it, whatever it is, just say it. But Sarge's phone rings instead, its screen lighting up, then Jules' goes off, vibrating against the counter, then his.

Some might say saved by the bell, but not him, it's just a stay of execution. Greg doesn't have to tell him. Sam knows this isn't over.

To Be Continued...

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