Sam felt Cassie stumble and he pulled her towards himself, doing his best to get her on her feet again without stopping. They were so close to the station where they had entered the underground; so close to where Charlie was waiting and they would be safe.

Through the darkness, he could hear Cassie's labored breathing and his chest burned; he regretted his lifetime of smoking more than ever.

At the station, they hauled themselves onto the platform and sprinted up the stairs. The sunlight hit them as they burst through the outside doors and Sam saw Charlie leap out of the car and run towards them as soon as he saw them emerge.

"Sam, are you all right?" Charlie shouted. "Where's Nate? The paramedics are comin'!" The three of them met in the middle and came to a stop. Charlie looked between them, confusion and concern etched onto his face. He realized that Cassie had tears streaming down her face and she gasped for air. Sam tried to speak but immediately doubled over, coughing violently.

Charlie grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to steady him, but through his fit Sam got out,

"No, no take her..." Charlie let go of him and turned his attention to Cassie. Still unsure of what had happened but knowing that something was wrong, and that Cassie was inconsolable, Charlie gathered her in his arms and let her sob onto him. Sam finally righted himself and stood for a minute, still winded but at least able to breathe. He realized that he was shaking like a leaf from the adrenaline and exertion.

"What the 'ell has 'appened?" Charlie asked again. "Sam, what's goin' on?"

"We had to leave him." The words didn't feel like his own. "Nathan- we had to leave him. He's gone."

"Gone? Wha' do you mean gone? The ambulance is almost 'ere, they can go back for him, 'elp him," Charlie said. At that they both paused; they could hear sirens in the distance.

"No, Charlie." Sam's voice caught. "They- they shot him. There was nothing I could do."

"No, no, mate, I know I made you rush outta there, they can go down, get em 'help," Charlie tried to tell him.

"Goddammit, Charlie, you're not hearing me!" Sam snapped. "I couldn't find a pulse. He wasn't breathing. I would never have left him if I thought he had a fighting chance." The two men stared each other down for a long moment as the sirens grew considerably louder and an ambulance pulled up behind them.

"Mate, I..." Charlie's voice trailed off. There were no words that could change anything or bring comfort in that moment and they were both aware of it. The last thing Sam wanted to hear was how sorry someone else was. His eyes fell on Cassie, still burying her face into Charlie's shirt. He could see her back heaving with every breath, though she didn't make a sound.

How was he going to tell Elena? Sam was suddenly hit with the thought, but his attention was quickly diverted because of the paramedics jogging towards them, asking what was wrong and who needed help. Sam pulled himself together instantly.

"There was a gunfight down in the station," he said. "But not this one- we just got out through here. It's down the tracks to the right. One man is dead, and another is unconscious, but he didn't get shot. I knocked him out when he attacked us." This sent the paramedics into action and they quickly figured out how to get down to Nathan and Elijah, and only one person stayed behind to make sure Sam and Cassie were uninjured.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when everyone accepted his story and sprang into action rather than questioning why they were down there, why there were guns involved, et cetera.

A few minutes later, the paramedic who had stayed with them went into the ambulance for something and Sam took the opportunity to say to Charlie in a low voice,

"Take her home."

"Wha' about you?"

"Just get her out of here. I'll figure it out." Cassie already lay curled in the back seat of Charlie's car. He gazed at Sam for a moment and then nodded; it occurred to him why Sam wanted her gone. Neither of them wanted her to see him when the other paramedics returned.

Charlie walked slowly around to the driver's side and climbed in. With one last look at Sam, he drove off. Sam wandered to the back of the ambulance.

"My friend took the kid home," he said. "I'll stay until they get back." The lady looked surprised, but she nodded understandingly.

Sam took the blanket she offered and sat in the doorway in the back of the ambulance with the blanket around his shoulders. He didn't speak, and she didn't try to make conversation.

A few minutes later, a police car rolled up, and two cops got out and came towards Sam. He tensed up upon seeing them but quickly realized that there had been a shooting. Of course, they were called. Shifting awkwardly, his eyes flicked around, refusing to focus on the cops until they were in front of him.

"Were you involved in the situation here?" one of them asked. Sam had to stifle a short laugh.

"No, I was walking by and decided to take a break in here. What do you think?" The officers glanced at each other and Sam caught one rolling his eyes.

"Sir, if you could stick to the facts. We're just here to get the story."

"Sure, fine, whatever," Sam said.

"Can you tell us exactly what happened? I encourage you to not leave out any details." His tone of voice implied that was not just a suggestion.

Sam told the story he'd been forming in his head during his silence before their arrival. He knew he'd be questioned at some point, and it wasn't a good idea to tell the authorities about their hit mission.

Slowly he relayed a tale of how he and his brother had gone down in the abandoned train tunnels to explore and to throw up some graffiti where no one cared. Sure, they knew the danger, but where else were they supposed to go? The cops seemed to buy that Sam would try something like that. It was simply chance that they stumbled upon a group of thugs and his brother was shot, and Sam knocked the shooter unconscious purely in self-defense while the other thugs ran.

"If it was just the two of you and several of them, and your brother was already down, why did they run away from just you?" one of the cops asked.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, it was all such a blur," Sam said, rubbing his forehead. "All of them left except the guy with the gun, they left him behind to finish us off. That's when he shot, and I jumped him."

Sam managed to tell the rest of the story without lying; he just continued to leave Cassie out of the picture. Afterwards, they asked him several more questions, and took down his personal information, and assured him that he would most likely get out of any charges placed on him for attacking another person. It seemed justified, after all.

It seemed like an eternity before they were done with him and he was grateful when they returned to their car. Sam's wait only lasted a few more minutes after that.

He jumped to his feet and the blanket slid off his shoulders and onto the ground, but he ignored it. The paramedics were exiting the station. As soon as they had heard the situation, a second ambulance had been called and had arrived at the lair's main entrance several blocks away to get Elijah to a hospital. The group that came towards them now had only a gurney with a body bag on it. Every muscle in Sam's body tensed at the sight of it.

He didn't take a single step; he waited until they were in front of him and he was blocking their way.

"Is he actually gone?" Sam asked, his voice flat. They all glanced at each other and one nodded.

"There was no sign of response and we called it," they said. Sam folded his arms and stared at the ground for a moment, before lifting his head to them again.

"Can I see him?"

"Sir, usually we advise against-"

"I want to see my little brother," Sam said, sounding harsher than he meant. They stepped back and he went to the head of the bag and unzipped it about a foot and a half.

As he did so, Sam had the thought that he didn't know if he would break down and cry, or simply have no reaction. What he wasn't prepared for was the overwhelming bout of nausea that washed over him. He staggered backwards a step or two and clasped his hand over his mouth. Somebody had their arm around his back in an instant, and there was a voice telling him to sit down and they tried to lead him away from the body.

Sam realized that though he wasn't out of breath, he had to gasp for air and felt lightheaded. The voices of the people around him were muffled and everything swam before his eyes. I saw him earlier. Why is this so much worse?

Because now it was real.

He couldn't stay there any longer. Ignoring the concerned faces of the paramedics, Sam turned and trudged towards the main road, and from there, he hailed a cab back to Charlie's.

**********

Sam paid the cabby and stepped onto the curb in front of Charlie's flat. He went up to the front steps, but instead of going inside, he sat down on the first step and pulled out his phone. The other end of the line only rang once.

"Sam?" Elena had obviously been waiting by her phone.

"Hey, Elena," he said wearily.

"Is everything okay? Did you guys do it?"

"No, we didn't...Elena, I'm sorry. Just, please, I never meant for any of this to happen." Sam rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

"Sam, what's going on?" she asked warily.

"It's Nathan."

"What about him?" Sam couldn't find words in time as Elena followed that up with, "Sam, what have you done?" He didn't waste time trying to defend himself.

"I couldn't save him this time." He sounded hollow. Elena became silent for a long moment.

"No, Sam, no. No. No, no, no. H-he can't be. You're lying. T-tell me he's gonna be okay," she stuttered, her desperation clear.

"There was nothing I could do. They- they shot him in front of me." He felt a lump rising in his throat and he fought to swallow.

"No. This can't be happening. You're not serious."

"I'm sorry."

"Sam, you drag my husband off to London on some stupid crusade, and two days later call me to tell me that he's been shot and killed? Who's the fucker I have to kill after I've dealt with you and Charlie?" He had been expecting a lot of her reaction, but not this sudden outburst of rage.

"Elena-" he started.

"No. No goddamned excuses. First Sully and now Nate?" Sam could hear the tears in her voice despite the fact she shouted at him through the phone. He closed his eyes, wincing, as she said,

"Fuck you, Sam. I hope you still think this is worth it."

"Elena, no, hold on. Don't talk to me like that. This is my little brother we're talking about. I never meant to get him killed. Watching him die...at least you didn't have to see it."

"I wish I had. At least I could have said goodbye."

"No, no, don't wish that. He was dead before I got to him, Elena." Sam bit out. "I have to live the rest of my life with that image in my fucking head and- and I know that it's my fault."

"Glad you finally admit it." Her voice was icy.

"You can't seriously be blaming me. I didn't shoot him. They had the gun on me, and he had to go and get involved," Sam retorted.

"Are you kidding me? You're blaming him? You're the reason he has this goddamn savior complex. After he lost you, he spent his life trying to keep everyone he knew alive. Once he got you back...he could never have stood by while your life was in danger. You started all of this." Her blame was like a dagger to the chest and when he replied, he sounded strained.

"I never asked for this. Any of it."

"But you dragged him into it." Sam rested his head in his hand and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yeah, I did. I did." He sighed. "A smarter man would have walked away from me. Neither of us deserved him."

**********