Summary - After behind the blue line, Sam is struggling. He's acting out, and won't tell the team why. He remembers his early army days, and how some of the guys used drugs to deal with the emotional pain of the job…

(Disclaimer: I don't own anything, or anyone in this story.)

CHAPTER ONE -

Sam put the car in park, and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, closing his eyes and listening to the heavy rain pounding on the windshield. He was already late for work, but he didn't want to go inside yet.

Since Darren's death at the old hockey rink, things had been tough on Sam. His nights were sleepless, and his mind was constantly filled with disturbing questions. When he did manage to fall asleep, he dreamt horrible, vivid dreams.

Now he let his mind drift back to his army days. It was near the beginning, before Sam was special ops. He remembered sitting in a circle in the barracks with a few other guys, playing cards. He had made his very first kill earlier that day, and the older soldiers knew he was feeling upset about it.

"Hey, man, try some of this." One of them said. He tossed him a little baggy of white powder. Sam glanced at him, unsure.

"It puts your mind at ease. For a while, at least." The soldier assured him.

Sam had tried the stuff once before, back in high school, and hadn't cared much for it back then. Still, this wasn't anything like high school. He decided to give it another try. It worked this time.

For the next few months, Sam used it often. Too often. He was never caught, but once he realised how addicted he had become, he stopped. It was really starting to affect his attitude and abilities, and he would be caught if he continued, which would probably mean a dishonourable discharge.

Sam was jolted back to reality by the sound of someone knocking on his window. It was Spike. He was holding his jacket collar, trying to keep the rain out. Sam rolled down the window.

"Hey buddy, what are you doing? Sarge tried your cell twice, and your home phone. He just sent me to go check your apartment to see if you were okay."

Sam glanced over at the cell resting in the passenger seat. The screen read 'Two missed calls'. He looked at the radio. He had been sitting in the parking lot, zoned out, for nearly forty-five minutes.

"Are you okay?" Spike asked. Sam nodded.

"Okay. Let's go then." He opened the door for him, and Sam grabbed his phone and got out.

When the two SRU officers entered the briefing room, all eyes were on Sam. He had bags under his eyes, and his blonde hair was dripping wet.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Sam said to everyone, staring at the ground. He quickly took his place across the table from Greg and Ed, who glanced at each other, worried. He didn't make eye contact with either of them.

"We just finished, Sam." Greg announced.

"Um…oh." Was all Sam thought to say. The group sat there awkwardly for a moment.

"Okay well, why don't the rest of you hit the gym. I'll fill Sam in, and we'll join you all in a minute." Greg said. The group took the hint, and got up out of their chairs. When only Sam and Greg remained, Sam finally looked up.

"Sam, this is the third time in a week." Greg reminded him gently.

"I know, I'm really sorry. I just…haven't been sleeping too well, you know?"

"If you need to talk to someone -"

"I'm fine. I won't be late anymore." He replied quickly.

"Is this because of Darren?"

"Don't talk about that!" Sam snapped. Greg looked taken back. Sam became aware of his insubordination, and sighed.

"I'm fine. Okay? Is that it?" Sam stood up.

Greg nodded. "I'll see you in the gym." He said.

Sam left, and Greg rubbed his temples. There was definitely something going on. And he just hoped things weren't going to get worse.

The day was a blur for Sam. No one tried to make conversation, but he felt their eyes on him whenever he walked by. Luckily, there was no emergency that required them at all that day. If there had been, Sam wasn't sure he would've been allowed to go. He wasn't sure he would've been up to going.

He couldn't believe how tired and depressed he felt.

That night, Sam lay awake once again. He stared up at the ceiling, and recalled the amazing feeling of the drugs coursing through his body. How they took the pain away so easily, how they helped him sleep.

He turned and flicked on the bedside lamp. He took a black book out of his drawer and flipped to the back page. The number jotted down was one that he had dialled many times during his leave between his first and second tours. Back when he was addicted to coke. He was his only drug contact outside the military. He made up his mind to call the guy first thing in the morning, before work.

The next morning, Sam was on the stationary bike, when Ed walked over. Sam sped up, as if trying to run away from him. Ed turned up the dial, until the resistance level was at it's highest. Sam struggled to move forward, and gave up.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked, sounding a bit more rude than he intended.

"Yes actually." Ed replied politely. "You can tell me what's up."

"The sky." Sam said lamely. Ed glared at him.

"I'm being serious here. I want answers, Sam." Ed placed his hands on his hips.

"I already talked to Sarge." Sam said.

"You call that talking? Because he doesn't."

"That's his problem." Sam answered, getting off the bike. He started to the next thing, but Ed grabbed his arm.

"Watch yourself, Braddock." He said warningly. He let go of him.

"We're just trying to help." Ed told him. He sounded less angry now, more desperate. Sam felt bad now. But he didn't show it. He just went on his way, to do his next exercise. He didn't know why he was taking his anger out on his friends, and he wished he could stop.

He looked at the clock. His shift was almost over. He began to get nervous. After all, he had agreed to meet the drug dealer right after he was done. It had been years since he touched the stuff.

But if it meant he would be able to get back to normal, he was willing to risk it.

A/N: What do you think? Please review! Thanks :)