Title: The First Time She Cried

Author: Dragonflies Girl aka Ki Ki

Disclaimer: not mine. Just borrowing them to play. Will return them once they're done fulfilling my fantasies. Promise.

Spoiler: S2E01 – Eagle Two (to be aired on Jan 9 I believe).

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She would not cry.

She was Jules Callaghan, the lone female SRU officer in the Toronto Police Service, the one who had beaten 500 other applicants to claim this coveted spot in the elite group.

She was Jules Callaghan, daughter of an ex-cop turned farmer, younger sister of protective brothers who had stared down her dates.

She was Jules Callaghan. She was made of tougher material than a simple damsel in distress. And so, she would not cry.

Not one damn tear would fall.

She. Would. Not. Cry.

She hated the house, hated the walls, the damn depressing, boring beige that covered all the vertical surfaces of this house. She wanted to fling her near-empty beer bottle at them; maybe the alcohol would give it some colour.

She hated these walls, and how sterile it made her house look.

By extension, she hated her house. She hated how alone she felt in it, how it reminded her of her family back in the prairies, whose only communications with her would be to ask when she would turn in her badge and get back home.

Maybe this time, they would get their wish.

But until then, she had no family. Nobody blood related anyway.

And after today, she may very well be losing the non-blood related ones as well.

She and her little family that was united by not only blood (the blood they shed together). They had gone through the training together, had learned to support one another, had given so much of themselves that they were one and the same. And it felt horrible to know that she had let them all down.

She shouldn't have turned her back on her subject. She should have stayed with her and guided her. Exactly how she could figure out where to lead her she still hadn't figured out, but she knew that her mistakes started when she left her protectee out by herself without a police officer in sight. She had endangered her team.

It was her responsibility; she had screwed up. Bad.

No, she wasn't feeling sorry for herself. She didn't need the team to feel sorry for her. She didn't need him to feel sorry for her. She wasn't sorry. She was angry. She was mad and angry and furious and livid and beyond. She wanted to hit something and smash the walls in her sterile house down.

Sarge had been nothing but kind, Ed had been understanding; Spike had been re-assuring in his own way when he refused the protective gear with her.

If she could just stop feeling like a complete failure for a moment.

She tried not to think about him, about his eyes when he had come after her at the Royal York, when he had grabbed her and had tried to push words into her already jumbled mind.

But by God, she wanted to remember the kiss. That kiss. One that had been all she had dreamt of and more. He had kissed her on a crowded street in front of the Royal York with the team right inside the door. Her brain hadn't function for that few seconds. It had been a glorious feeling.

But she had pushed him away still. She needed time to think. She needed time to compose herself and to put herself back together before she could be strong enough to resist him. She didn't need any more distraction at work. Just look at where she got herself even without the complication of getting involved with a teammate.

He had looked dejected when she had told him to leave her alone after she had backed out of their kiss, and hurt that she still did not want him with her as she tried to walk off her frustration and anger of the day. He had looked dejected and hurt and she wanted to erase that look from her mind forever.

If only she was strong enough. If only she wasn't a mess.

If only she hadn't left her alone with the journalist.

Damn it. The tear would not fall.

Her hand drew into an angry fist, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut the floodgate.

Several sharp raps at her door drew her attention. She took another gulp of her lukewarm beer.

"Open the door, Jules, or I'll break this damn thing down, and don't think I won't do it."

More banging.

Another gulp of the beer, almost emptying it.

"Last warning, Jules," the voice boomed again.

Another gulp, and the bottle sat empty by her side.

She continued to stare into the fire burning in the small fireplace.

He appeared in front of her, blocking her view of the dancing flames, "Jules."

"Do I need a new door?"

"I am SRU, I know a thing or two about getting into a locked room without breaking down the door."

She shrugged at his words.

"Jules, talk to me."

"Nothing to talk about."

"Liar."

She tried glaring at him, but that would mean he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. So, she simply turned away, "Why are you here, Sam?"

"I gave you time. I gave you your moment of being alone," he spoke with resolve and determination. "But I won't stay away forever, starting now."

"I am fine."

"Like hell you are."

"I don't need you to save me," she reiterated. "I can take care of myself."

"No one doubts that, Jules."

"Yea?" Raising herself so she was standing and looking at him right in the eyes, she could feel the anger and frustration she had worked so hard to suppress returning with a vengeance. "Then so why are you here?"

"Because I am your friend," his voice was rising with each word he spoke. "Because I worry about you. Because I care about you. Because I need to see for myself that you are alright."

"Why?" her voice almost small, almost uncertain. Jules hated the uncertainty.

"Because," he simply said.

"I screwed up. I turned my back. I left her alone."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"I should have known. I was trained for this. I should know better."

"Yea, maybe you should, but it's done. It's resolved. They're both alright. Nobody's blaming you. You need to move on, Jules. You are tougher than that. You are better than that. The Jules I know would not let this bring her down."

The lump in her throat just got bigger. She found it hard to speak without her voice wavering, "Well, then maybe you don't know me well enough. Maybe I am just not that strong. Maybe I am just not that good."

"Well, then, lean on me and I'll make sure you are good enough and strong enough," his voice was husky and low, and it went straight to her heart. "Because, trust me, Jules, you are that strong and you are that good. One night of doubt is not going to bring you down. Just let me in, Jules. Let me help you get through this."

He had started moving towards her as he spoke, and when he finished, he was invading her personal space, just as he was outside the Royal York.

She wanted to believe him; she needed to believe him, because this one night of weakness had destroyed almost the wall she had placed around herself her whole life.

Their eyes locked again and she held her breath as he inched closer and closer, the anticipation growing in her stomach. Her eyes closed, and she could feel his breath on her cheek.

His lips brushed her eyelids first, gently, softly, then the tip of her nose, then the corner of her mouth.

"Jules," he called her name. She opened her eyes to look at him.

"Yes?"

"No running away this time. I won't let you hide from me this time. If you let me kiss you again, this is for real, and whatever it is, we face it together. But I won't let you run from me again. I won't."

Her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest she was sure he could feel it. Her breath hitched. Even as her brain kept telling her no, that it was a bad idea, she nodded – a small, almost imperceptible nod.

She didn't feel strong. Her armour and strength were gone, depleted; she needed him to be her armour for the night so she can rebuild Jules Callaghan.

And his lips descended on hers. The glorious feeling was back, chasing all her thoughts away.

She closed her eyes and lost herself in the feeling of his lips against hers and the heat it caused in her stomach. Her hands snaked around his neck, and he lifted her up and off the ground.

She felt like she could fly. Maybe with him, she really could fly. Because she knew he would be on the ground to catch her.

"God, Jules."

"Not Jules," she muttered against his lips. No, she didn't feel like Jules right now. She wasn't Jules right now. Because Jules wouldn't let herself lose control like that.

Jules Callaghan followed the rules; Jules Callaghan would suppress her feelings before she let it consume her; Jules Callaghan would steel herself and send Sam Braddock out the door.

But she wasn't Jules Callaghan anymore, not since he had stood by so close to her and reached out to her and promised to lend her his strength.

He pulled back slightly to look at her puzzled.

"Don't call me Jules. Not tonight," her voice was so soft he wasn't sure he understood

Somehow, he understood her broken words, and he breathed out a name she hadn't used for the longest time, "Julianna."

His arms tightened around her, and she leaned in for his strength and his firmness.

And for the first time in years, Julianna Callaghan cried.

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A/N: I felt compelled to write about this, and I know there are a few different renditions out there already about what happened after the kiss. This is just my take on it, because the look Jules gave Sam after he asked if she thought he was sorry for her was just so heart-breakingly sad. Man, I am loving this pairing more and more!

Hope you like this. Please leave me a note on what you think :).

Until next time!