The Callaghan Syndrome

Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint.

:: One more episode till God knows when. I'm depressed.

"Sam, do you think I've gained a few pounds?"

The blond sniper paused; the mouth of his beer barely touched his lips. He felt the temperature in the room increase several degrees. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Sam let out a startled laugh. "What do you mean?"

Jules threw him a disapproving look from the mirror. "Do I need to paraphrase the question?"

"No." Sam hastened to answer. Behind the soft spoken words hovered another line with basically similar meaning. 'Do you think I look fat, Sam?'. Better watch it than be sorry.

Hands around her hips, Jules was deeply scrutinizing her petite body which was exposed to both pair of eyes as she was only wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts that normally, under different circumstances, would evoke some reactions from him. Now he only hoped that he had gone straight home after the shift ended.

She poked around her well-toned stomach, trailing her fingers up to her bare arms, looking for some extensive body fat that she surely wouldn't find. "I just feel like I'm gaining some weight. The guys would have a blast making fun of me in the next weigh-in. I'd probably top Sarge and be the heaviest person in the team. Need to stop eating those Timbits, Jules. Better spend some extra time in the gym." Her non-sense exaggeration and effortless attempt to imitate their team leader would have cracked him laughing, again, under different circumstances.

Julianna Callaghan was a ticking, walking bomb.

Having been together for only 3 weeks, Sam was not prepared for this version of Jules.

It was a tricky question, really. Saying that she looked great would undoubtedly lead to Jules blatantly accusing him of lying to her face. On the other hand, saying that she did have gain weight (which she hadn't) obviously would do nothing good to both parties. Either way, he was screwed.

Sighing, Sam put his beer back and stood to his feet. Standing behind her, he rubbed her arms up and down soothingly. "You know what I see? I see my sexy sniper chick."

Jules frowned. "It's not an essay, Sam, it's a yes or no question."

Shit.

"What made you think like that anyway?" If you can't give her what she wants, try to talk to her. Stir her away from her demand. Make her forget. Come on, Sam, in contrary to the popular belief, negotiating for you is as easy as pie.

Jules scowled at him. "You took me to the cheeseburger parlor on Wednesday, and you ordered that large chocolate milkshake with a large portion of cheese fries. Then the burritos you brought over on Friday? You'd specifically asked the guy to add more sauce and honey-mustard. Should I even mention the pizza with extra cheese and meat toppings that you made me eat yesterday? Of course, blame me if I'm being a bit cautious."

Sam had to hold himself from rolling his eyes. Under different circumstances, he would gladly tell her that she'd wanted to eat some cheeseburger and that she thought cheeseburgers had to be eaten with milkshake and cheese fries. Then on Friday, she had specifically told him to ask the guy to add extra mustard and sauce. As for the pizza, she'd decided to order in because she had burnt their dinner.

Of course, Sam said none of that.

"I'm sorry. Next time I promise I'd order a salad."

"Did that mean yes?"

"No."

"So, it's a no."

"Yes."

Her pert nose crunched up in distaste. "Sam! Quit mocking me, will you? God, why is it so hard to expect you to make up your mind, for once?"

Patience is virtue, Sam. Just imagine having Canucks lost to Blackhawks… you'd get pretty sentimental yourself.

He had overheard Wordy telling the other guys that Shelley could get pretty brutal when that time of the month came to the point that he had considered installing an application on his phone to track her cycle. Maybe that was a wise thing to do. It's a shame that Sam's phone was pretty much ancient.

Jules could be a lot of thing, but when the time arrived, she could be a million of things all at once. He enjoyed when she's being uncharacteristically, overly feminine and affectionate -Hey, Handsome, could I snuggle up next to you?-, and had come to an understanding when she wanted chocolates at ridiculous hour of 12.30 AM.

Women are a complex creature. It looked like they were possessed by demonic forces once every month.

At least she wasn't struck with a crying fit like yesterday.

Over a life insurance commercial nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Her demur broke his reverie. She was biting her lips, doe eyes dancing with unmasked dismay. For a second she looked even smaller than she was. "I know that I have been pretty difficult lately."

Hallelujah, that's probably the understatement of the century, thank you very much!

Kissing the top of her head, Sam tightened his arms around her trim body. "It's okay, Jules. If I can't handle you at your worst, I sure as hell don't deserve you at your best." He borrowed a page from the late Ms. Monroe, nuzzling his nose on the nape of her neck.

He was expecting her to cool down, or probably give him a peck on the cheek, anything but a jab on his ribs. Jules wiggled out of his embrace and poked his chest, eyes glaring up at him with venom that he was relieved that her gun wasn't laying around in reachable distance.

"Me at my worst? Way to go, Sam. Sorry if I make your life miserable, sorry that you have to deal with this worst side of me. I surely didn't ask you to come over. You want to take a break? How does that sound? I've always known that this was a mistake. We shouldn't be sneaking around the team like a pair of lovesick baboon. You know where the door is, please see yourself out."

The last of her outburst didn't quite register in his mind until she slammed the door close, leaving him alone in her bedroom.

Groaning, Sam let out a trails of swear words that would make a sailor blush.

She couldn't be serious, could she? He had been dumped for another man, another woman, and for an Angora cat –cats made him sneeze-, but never because of a severe case of PMS.

Spike would piss himself laughing if he ever found out. Not that he would ever, but still.

Gathering some courage, patience and more patience, Sam grasped the doorknob. It's time to keep the peace.

May the force be with you, Braddock.

:)