Title: Stupid

Pairing: SamxJules

Rating: T

Summary: Jules has always prided herself on staying focused and in control during a mission. But tonight something's different, tonight, her heart wants to win.

Additional details: Set during and after "Last Dance". ALSO, Bloore, Kingston, and St. Claire are NOT next to one another. I just put those street names down because I'm not familiar with Toronto.

"Team Five is still on that motel standoff, you guys mind sticking around until they get back?" Jules Callaghan groaned inwardly hearing Winnie's request. It'd been a long, hard day (in terms of emotional stress. Watching Sam go through the motions of his daily routine, trying to go through her own like nothing was amiss) now all she wanted was some peace and quiet. She'd gone to the library the day before and picked up a few murder mystery books- crime. She just couldn't stay away from it even on her downtime- she'd intended on starting them tonight and finishing them by the end of the week.

"No problem." Ed Lane responded for the team. "Copy that?" He added, as an afterthought, to make sure the group was on the same wavelength. Of course, the men were.

"Copy." Everyone but Jules returned the statement. She gave herself a mental head-shake; what was going on with her? Back in the day (before the whole "clandestine relationship with Sam behind Team One's Back". Those were good times) she'd loved putting in overtime. It just meant extra time with the men that she'd come to value as family, the concept of "working late" had never so much as made her bat an eyelash before.

But now…

She slid a glance Sam's way. He wasn't looking at her, but she could see that behind the bright blue gaze, he was clearly contemplative. Jules averted her eyes, attempting not to blush. This was fucking pathetic. If her three biological brothers could see her now, they would tease her about being weak and whiney, like a newly-heartbroken teenager.

But that was ridiculous. She wasn't weak (she'd sustained a life threatening injury and passed the re-entry exam, reclaiming her position on Team One with flying colours), and any griping she'd done about her failed relationship with Sam had taken place in her own head. It wasn't as if she had many female friends to vent to, anyway. Now that she thought about it, the only friends she had were the ones she worked with (and what better friends to have? She trusted them all with her life everyday, and everyday she came back out alive).

The guys were pulling out their cell phones now, drifting away from one another so that they could hold semi-private conversation. Jules tried to ignore the empty feeling in her gut. Her cell phone was collecting dust in her locker, she had nobody to phone.

Jules heard bits and pieces of random conversations as she walked around aimlessly, pretending that she had something better to do than just stand around like a bump on a log.

"Shelley I'm gonna be late tonight… let me say goodnight to the girls?" Wordy's voice was gentle, soothing. Jules wasn't a big fan of "couples" or "love", but she enjoyed watching Wordy and Shelley interact. They had such a close, understanding relationship. Deep down (very deep down) she hoped that she and whoever her future husband was had a connection like that.

"Soph? Yeah, I got a little bit of OT. Yeah, alright. See you soon." Ed was explaining the situation to his wife (Jules had always admired Sophie's patience and understanding. Being the spouse of a cop was no easy feat).

"Hey, Sylvia. Yeah, it's Greg. Listen, I'm really sorry but we're going to have to cancel tonight's date… I'm working late. Thanks. Say hi to Zack for me." Greg Parker explained running a hand over his bald head. Jules let slip a diminutive smile. Greg hadn't been seriously involved with anyone since she'd known him, but he'd recently started seeing Sylvia, a single mother with a young son. The relationship was slow-moving (turtle-style. And not the ninja kind) but at least Greg was happy with someone.

Jules kept right on strolling, almost succeeding in the quest to fool herself and pretend that she wasn't bitter over the lack of family or significant other to notify of her whereabouts.

Keyword there: almost.

She happened to walk by Sam as he was on the phone. She told herself to keep on walking; it really wasn't any of her business who he was calling. Morbid curiosity killed the cat, and she halted in her tracks, feet refusing to move.

Well, really, she wondered who Sam was talking to. He wasn't particularly close with his family (that much Jules knew, even if she'd never met them) and all of his good friends were enlisted in the army.

A smirk found its way onto Sam's face. "Hey… I'm good thanks. Yeah, we have to postpone tonight." Jules's ears pricked. Was that reluctance she heard in the Samtastic's (the stupid nickname the guys had given him) voice? No, it couldn't be. They'd only been broken up for a month, not even. There was no way Sam had found someone new. He'd been the one trying to hold onto their relationship when she wanted to demolish it.

Sam chuckled. A husky, inviting sound (Jules ignored the stab of heat that shot to her crotch). "I'm sorry." He said sincerely. Jules turned on her heel and walked the other way, but she was still close enough to hear Sam offer: "How about we meet tomorrow for drinks?"

In a moment of uncharacteristic behaviour, the tomboyish cop considered running back over to Sam, throwing her arms around him (knocking away his cell phone and any thoughts of another woman) and kissing him senseless.

When she realized the ridiculousness of her own fantasy, Jules snorted and kept walking. You were the one that broke up with him. She reminded herself, not the other way around.

So then why did she feel like sinking to the floor and crying her heart out?

Wait. She didn't feel like that. That was how heartbroken girls felt. Jules Callaghan was not heartbroken. She was just… stupid. She was stuck in a stupid rut, and that was all there was to it. The ring of a cell phone made her raise her head. Lou was only a few feet away, fishing the mobile device out of his pocket and flipping it open.


"Hey Lou… sorry bud, I might be a little held up at work." Spike was standing within eyeshot, grinning.

"Oh it's okay. At least you called." Lou grinned back and Jules had to smile at their behaviour. They were best friends, and if the team was still in high school, Jules had a feeling they'd be the inseparable class clowns.

She caught sight of Sam through the corner of her eye and the smile instantly faded. Her back stiffened and her heart banged against her ribcage (see? She reasoned to herself. It's not broken, it still works. It's beating.) But Sam passed right by her without a thought. Jules felt her figure sag in disappointment. She'd been vainly hoping that Sam would try to talk to her. But he'd been avoiding her expertly since the break up. They might as well have been strangers.

It dawned on her that her heart was broken. The fact that it was beating and pumping blood through her system seemed irrelevant; whenever she thought of Sam it hurt. Whenever she thought of Sam with someone else, she was nauseas. Why the fuck didn't heartbreak come with pills or antibiotics? A week of medicine and she'd be good as new, back to feeling like her old self.

Shit. This whole "heartbreak" thing? It was new to her, foreign and ugly and she couldn't handle it. She missed life back when she'd been protected. Without Sam, without emotional attachment, without feeling this way.

Before Jules could sink even deeper into her depressing thoughts, the bleeping noise of sirens made her head snap up. "Team One, hot call. Gear up guys, shots fired. Robbery at 21-10 Church, one male, one female, subjects believed to be in hybrid and under the influence."

The emptiness was pushed aside for a moment and Jules let herself believe that she was okay. This- going on dangerous, life-threatening missions- this was normal. This was familiar, it was something she could handle (better than most, she would concede).

She fell in line behind Ed as the team flocked out to the garage to start their vehicles.


She ended up riding with Sam in her truck. Greg had been the one to put them together. Sam had looked ready to protest before clenching his jaw and scrabbling into the driver's seat (usually Jules drove but she figured that this time she'd be nice and let him have the privilege. Besides, she could stare at him without having to pay attention to the road). Jules wasn't sure if she should feel extremely cursed or extremely lucky- being with Sam without actually being his girlfriend was painful in a good way. Who knew pain could be a good thing? - In any case, she decided to feel extremely pissed off.

Stupid Parker. Stupid Sam. Stupid heartbreak.


The van was silent. Jules wished she could speak up and say something (expressing her opinion had never been a problem pre-break up. Post-break up, it was the most nerve-wracking thing in the world). With the tangle of repressed emotions simmering in her gut, she wasn't sure how she could go on being quiet.

But she did, because she was once again trying to trick herself. Making it seem like everything was okay between she and Sam, they were only dead-silent because they were awaiting instruction from Greg, or new information about the subjects from Winnie.

Finally, the radio crackled and Winnie's voice filled the small space. Jules almost sighed with relief. She tried to listen and be attentive, she really did, but then she caught sight of Sam's face and her stomach flipped violently.

"…Address 1382 Emilia Street. He lives with common law partner Laura Schienmann, 29. Her record's clean also."

Jules forced herself to tear her eyes from Sam's face- inexplicably shadowy and sexy at that very moment- she pushed herself up in the seat. She was a professional, dammit. This should not be happening to her.

Jules frowned; her muddled brain was in slow-mo. She stared out the window, her eyes focusing on the passing street signs. Bloore, Kingston, St. Claire…

Wait a minute. Winnie had said that the subject lived on Emilia Street. That was right off of St. Claire, a ten minute walk, even less because they were driving.

"Boss, that's five minutes away from here." She spoke, was it just her or did her voice sound funny? Like it was pissed off because she'd used it. "Want some help on the profile?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." Greg agreed, grateful for the turn of events. This situation was slipping further and further out of his control, but at least now they could search the home and find out more about their difficult subjects.

"I'll drop her off; I'll catch up with you." Sam said next. Jules turned to look at him in surprise.

"You don't wanna come with?" She hated the injured tone she was using, but then she resolved that it couldn't be helped. She was (stupidly, because the split had been her doing) heartbroken, after all.

"What if we do a rolling stop? We'll need the extra vehicle." She hated the fact that he was composed, while she floundered there like an idiotic, transparent fish out of water.

She tried to shrug it off and act like she couldn't care less. "Alright. Just as well, wouldn't wanna get you into trouble with the little lady." That came out as snippy. And bitchy. Rude, too. But she knew that it would illicit a response from him, and she was open to conversation from any avenue she could take.

When he replied (quickly, without missing a beat. How fucking infuriating) his tone was both wry and harsh. His eyes were hard and betrayed no feeling of affection. If Jules had not seen those eyes shine for her before, she would think Sam hated her.

"Remind me, who dumped who again?"

The playful banter she'd been hoping to initiate froze dead in its tracks and she turned away, feeling like a complete fool for even saying such a thing. She straightened in the seat, her eyes wide open, staring straight ahead.

That's right, asshole. Her mind screamed. I did the dumping.


Sam dropped her off at the entrance to the respectable apartment that their subjects resided in. She pushed through the doors without a word and asked the bored-looking man at the front desk to speak with the landlord.

Why did she feel like crying?

Fuck this.

When she discovered that the landlord was actually a landlady, she was surprised. Though she wasn't sure why- she knew better than anyone that women could be successful in their own right. It wasn't just a man's world anymore.

She smiled thinly and introduced herself, before asking the middle-aged woman to show her Laura's apartment. The woman complied quite readily and led her through another door and up a staircase.

Jules was in mission mode, at least physically and verbally. But her thoughts were elsewhere, chasing each other fruitlessly, taunting her, making her head spin.

I wanted this.

But you want Sam more.

This is fucking ridiculous. It's getting in the way of my fucking job.

If you hadn't dumped Sam, you wouldn't be having this problem.

It had to be done. He was an inconvenience.

That's the worst lie you've ever told, Juliana Callaghan. You dumped him because he was getting too close and you got scared.

That's not true.

Oh, isn't it?

Fuck you.


Leave me alone.

You realize that the landlady… what's her name? Rebecca… she's still talking. You should be listening.

See? This is interfering with my job.

What? Talking to yourself?

No. Thinking of Sam. People can talk to themselves.

So you admit, you are thinking of him.

Fuck you.

"Are you alright, constable?" Rebecca asked. They were standing by the closed doorway to the subjects' apartment, how long they'd been in that position, Jules wasn't sure.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Rebecca nodded and unlocked the door.

But she wasn't fine. She was a mess.

Stupid voices in her head. Stupid heart. Stupid Sam.


This whole situation is spiralling out of control. Well, both situations. Jules's personal one, and the one that the SRU is dealing with. After putting together a jigsaw puzzle of clues several different ways, they'd finally come out with the right answer. The truth. And it was a tragic, unfair one, if Jules did say so herself.

The subjects weren't drug addicts, nor were they mentally unstable, they were just two people in love who just wanted to hold onto the little time they had left together. When Jules found the video that Laura and Evan made, detailing Laura's degenerative brain condition, and her plan to commit suicide, she watched it, fascinated. Near the end, though, pity and pain tore at her heart in a new and powerful way.

These people… Evan and Laura… they wanted to be together and yet they couldn't be. She and Sam could be together, but she'd fought it, every step of the way. She could be with him. And she wanted to be.

Jules's eyes shone with tears as the video ended. For once in her life she desired the fairytale ending- not just for her, but for everyone. For Evan and Laura, for she and Sam, for every fucking couple and every unrequited love out there.

But she couldn't do anything about that. She was powerless, and "happily ever afters" rarely happened in real life. What killed her was that she'd had it, but she'd pushed Sam away because (and it killed her to admit this) she was scared of being hurt. But Sam wouldn't have hurt her… she'd hurt herself.

How could she have been so stupid?


Jules barged into the guys' dressing room, determination etched in her face and a fire burning in her heart. Sam was just sliding on his jeans, his shirt was still off, cast off to the side somewhere.

"Sam." Her voice was firm, stern.

He whipped around. "Jules…"

"I want you to listen to me." She bit the tip of her tongue until she tasted blood. He raised an eyebrow, nodding silently as he pulled the shirt over his head.

"I…" the words were stuck in her throat, hiding from her. She was emotionally drained; this was harder than she thought it would be. "I…"

"Jules?" He stepped closer to her, a look of concern flashing across his face. She wondered why. It dawned on her when she reached up to wipe her face and felt the rivulets of tears pouring down.

"I… I wish Evan and Laura had more time." She meant it, she truly wished that young couple eternity together. But she wasn't really talking about them. And he knew it, because somehow, over the nights and days they'd spent together, he'd gotten to know her. He could read her like a master profiler, and though his ability had always made her uncomfortable in the past, she welcomed it now.

Sam wrapped his arms around her and Jules felt the weight in her gut being lifted. Lifted, lifted, higher, higher, until there was nothing left but overwhelming fatigue. Her tears soaked his shirt. He made shushing noises and fondled her hair.

"I… I'm sorry." She finally regained composure and pushed herself away, stumbling slightly.

"It's okay."

"Why?" Why would you forgive me?

He chuckled, his eyes warm. "That's a stupid question. Because I love you."

Jules smiled and moved closer, letting herself be enveloped by his embrace. "I thought you'd moved on." She confessed. "I… heard you talking on the phone."

"I was talking to my sister." Sam kissed her forehead. "She's pregnant and I was supposed to come over and help her husband paint the nursery."

"Oh. I thought…" she'd made an incorrect assumption, and this time being wrong was so gloriously satisfying that she felt like jumping for joy (or, she would've, if she had any energy left).

"No, Jules. I'm still very much in love with you." Sam smiled.

She grinned back. Stupid assumptions. Stupid Sam. Stupid feelings.

Author's note: If you've read this far, I hope you liked the story. It's my first attempt at writing for the Flashpoint fandom (though I've been watching the show for quite some time). Please review, feedback is appreciated. Did you like it? Hate it? Did I butcher the characters?