Once again, I was reminded just how brilliant and amazing Flashpoint is after watching 'Priority of Life.' I forgot for a short while, but this episode simply restored all of my faith and even had me bawling. Not a lot of shows can do that.

This is… something. I don't really know. Just that, in my mind, I have this vision of Sam, that somewhere a part of him is scarred. And with 'Priority of Life' I could easily see it coming out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Flashpoint.

His heart had fractured walking into that smoking lab room. It had exploded outwards, tiny fragments breaking off and becoming cold and lost. His very soul was screaming at him to go to her, to pick her up and make sure she was safe and protect her.

But those dark eyes had pierced him, pinned him like a butterfly to a board and he knew. He knew that she wouldn't be able to forgive him if he didn't follow the priority of life. He knew that if he did what he so desperately wanted, nothing could ever be the same between them.

All the same, walking out of the lab, without her or the knowledge that she was safe, killed him. He had done it and he had saved the other woman, but with Jules bleeding out only meters away burned like acid. It wrapped vicelike fingers of fear and anguish around his throat, choking him like a noose that he could not escape.

He still remembered the pungent terror that had welled as soon as the oxygen tank had exploded, sending fire and shrapnel through the air, blowing everything into chaos. All he could hear was the silent nonononono that was repeated like a mantra in his mind. The smoke had cleared with agonizing slowness and with it came a sight that felt like a blow to the chest.

Once again he had been too late and there she was, lying in a pool of her own blood. Just like on the roof. The memories flashed in a torrent even as he had fought them off.

So he had done the only thing he knew that would help her. He had talked. Just breathe. Slow your breaths. You're going to be fine. Those words were as much for her as they were for him.

Simply watching her come towards the decontamination chamber had almost cracked that careful wall. Close, but not enough. Because part of him was holding on with all he had for her. To stay strong for her. That need drowned out any of his feelings and thoughts.

"I love you." Saying those words and seeing the responding reply light in her eyes had started sealing the cracks. Just a little bit. He had felt the team behind him, watching in silence and not a word to be said and he appreciated it.

He had ridden with her to the hospital, his duty down. Not once had he released her hand or his eyes left hers. He had remained stoic and strong, waiting with as much patients as he could muster through the surgery, desperation edging its way back the longer it took. He had held it back with the barest amount of will. And she had come through.

Now, debriefing complete and dismissed, he sat next to her sleeping form. Not once did he allow himself to look away from her, because that broken part of him was seeping through. That sickening feeling had a hold of his throat once again with fear that somehow she would vanish from his sight.

His hands started to tremble.