When Sam walked inside, the flat appeared empty. The door to the spare bedroom, where Cassie had been sleeping, was closed. However, he couldn't see a light on through the crack underneath the door. Charlie was nowhere to be found.

He stood in the middle of the dusty, dimly lit room and his eyes scanned it and fell on the table in the center. He wandered to it and skimmed over the books, the blueprints, pages upon pages of notes...everything they had been planning with for weeks. They had been so confident. They were sure they had the jump on Marlowe, they had calculated everything so carefully, more than they ever had before. Sam had known what was on the line, and it was one job he wasn't going to wing. On top of that, the brothers and Charlie were not new to this life. What had gone wrong had not been due to a lack of experience.

What had gone wrong...it was almost laughable. Despite their meticulous planning, everything had gone wrong. They could not have predicted Marlowe somehow knowing that they were there, and Elijah's betrayal had come as an even bigger surprise. That had been the real kicker. If anyone else had been holding the gun, Sam could have handled it better. He could have rationalized it knowing that it was just chance. It would have been harder to claim responsibility. But this...this was personal, and it was his fault.

His mind strayed back to the last time he had seen Elijah. Quite naively, he hadn't thought twice about any of it. It all made sense now, why Eli had found their house without his help, why he had been overly apologetic about Sully's death... Nathan and Elena had been skeptical, and rightly so, it seemed. It hadn't ever occurred to Sam that Eli felt guilty beyond recommending a dubious job. Nathan's voice rang in his ears. Trust this guy with your life. But I wouldn't. What would Nathan say to him now? Sam could imagine his brother's smug, I told you so.

How long had Eli been feeding Marlowe his information? Had the Brit's eyes been on Sam for months? Years? Sam's head swam. How many times had he put Sully and the other three Drakes in danger because he hadn't recognized a shady contact?

With that thought, all the emotions he had been burying, not just that day but since Sully's death, came flooding in. However, now the guilt and grief were amplified by the rage and betrayal he felt towards a man he'd called his friend. Sam's mind felt cloudy and more raw emotion overcame him than he knew how to process. Feeling as though his chest might explode, he reacted violently towards the only thing within reach.

With both arms, he swept everything off the table in front of him. Books slammed to the floor, pencils clattered and their leads broke, papers caught on the table's rough wooden surface and ripped in half, flying everywhere. One notebook was left lying on the table, untouched. Sam picked it up gently, stared at it for a moment, and then hurled it across the room, where it hit a bookshelf and fell. He watched it drop to the ground with a thud that echoed through the room. Sam crumpled to his knees. He heaved with sobs before he became fully aware of it. His hands grasped at the floor and found papers that he scrunched in his fists. The feeling seemed to ground him to reality.

For how long he had been kneeling on the floor, he didn't know. A hand on his shoulder shocked him back to life. Sam raised his chin and turned his head slightly, and his eyes met Charlie's. The older man crouched next to him; his face etched with concern. What must I look like? Sam thought. On his knees, red in the face, surrounded by the carnage of their research...

"I- I brough' back sandwiches." That was not what Sam expected to hear. Oh well, neither he nor Charlie had ever been very tactful.

"I'm sorry for the mess," Sam stuttered in reply.

"Oi, mate, it's fine," Charlie said. "Is there anythin' you need? Do you even wanna eat?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's a' least get you off the floor," Charlie said, rising to his feet. He held out a hand and Sam grasped it. Charlie pulled him up, and Sam took a deep breath, staring at him.

"I called Elena." Charlie's face sank.

"An' how'd that go?"

"How do you think?" Sam groaned. "I broke her heart, she yelled at me, and that was that. I convinced her to stay home, at least, and I promised her that Cassie and I would go back tomorrow. Which I still need to book tickets for."

"Lemme handle that," Charlie said, holding up a hand. "Least I could do."

"Thanks." Sam was in no mood to protest.

"D' you wanna try an' eat? Cassie shut herself up in her room when we got back. Didn't know wha' else to do so I went an' got us all some lunch."

"I should," Sam said, eyeing the bag of sandwiches on the table reluctantly. He reached over into the bag and grabbed the first one he felt. He slid into the closest chair and Charlie fished out another sandwich and sat across from him. They ate in silence for a couple minutes and Sam got about halfway through his before he felt too sick to continue. He wrapped it up and set it back on the table.

"I'll eat the rest for dinner," he said. Charlie looked a bit unconvinced, but he nodded anyways.

"I'm going to see if I can talk to her," Sam continued, his gaze drifting to the closed bedroom door.

"I'll try to tidy up in 'ere," Charlie said.

"No, man, I did this. I'll take care of it," Sam replied, but for the second time Charlie waved him off.

"Go talk to Cassie. I've got it," he insisted. Sam hesitated, but gave in and stood up. He quickly stored the half of his sandwich in the fridge and went to the bedroom door. Softly, Sam tried the knob and was pleased when it turned. He opened the door as quietly as he could and let himself into the dark room, closing the door behind him.

"Cas? Hey, sweetheart," he whispered. Nothing made a sound, but as his eyes adjusted to the faint light creeping in though the curtains, he could make out a figure lying on the bed. He tiptoed over and gingerly lowered himself on the edge of the bed. Sam reached his hand out and rested it on Cassie's shoulder.

"Kid? Are you awake?" he asked. She gave no response, but he continued anyways, sure that she was listening.

"I'm sorry. Nothing went right today and..." He cringed. Like that wasn't obvious. "We didn't know how unprepared we were and that was my fault. We shouldn't have gone. I wish you hadn't been there and seen that, and I- I wish it hadn't happened at all...but I need you to talk to me, sweetheart. I know how you're feeling. I'm the only one who knows. And I want to help you, but I can't do that if you shut me out."

Cassie still didn't respond, and Sam sighed. He rubbed her shoulder rhythmically.

"I hope you know how much he loved you. He was so proud of you and he never shut up about it, it was almost annoying." He laughed once, using it to bite back tears. "He and I both realized the second we were in danger today, and his first priority was keeping you safe. There was no way out, and he would never have been able to live with losing you."

"I'm not sure I can live with losing him." Her voice sounded tiny and muffled in her pillow. Sam's hand stopped.

"Yeah...me, too," he said after a moment. "But you and I, we're gonna get through this. It seems crazy right now, but we will, right? We've still got your mom, and Charlie, and-" His list was shorter than he expected, but he recovered quickly. "And we can do it. Your dad is just smiling down on you right now, and we're gonna make him so proud." Sam wasn't sure where this heart-to-heart was coming from, but it seemed like the only thing he could rationally do was spit out cliches at Cassie in hopes that they would help.

Slowly Cassie pushed herself up and made eye contact with Sam.

"I shouldn't have followed you guys," she said.

"That has nothing to do with any of this. Do you think that would have made a difference?" Sam gaped. "Kid, this is not your fault and you don't leave this room until you understand that."

"I just can't help but think," she said, "maybe something would have been different."

"No. No, this was not your fault at all. Marlowe knew we were there. That wouldn't have changed. Your dad didn't even...go out protecting you. They were never gonna hurt you. He was trying to protect me." He couldn't hold her eye contact as he said that. He felt the shame burning on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Absolutely." And he was sure. Cassie had nothing to do with it. "Maybe, yeah, following us was a really goddamn stupid thing to do, but it didn't change the outcome. I just wish you hadn't seen it."

"I can't shut my eyes without seeing him, and you next to him, and I've never been so scared," she choked out. "I'm still not sure if I'm dreaming or not."

"I wish I could say you were," Sam said, his voice strained. He pulled her towards himself, and she curled up in his arms. "And I wish you didn't have to see that."

"Except..." She suddenly sounded unreasonably calm and rational. "I think I'm glad I was there, and I know exactly what happened, instead of finding out after and wondering if I could have done anything to stop it."

"Kid, you're right, and I want you to hold onto that, but-" He sucked in a breath. "I'm gonna live the rest of my life wondering what I could have done differently."

"I don't think you could have stopped it either," she said, pressing herself closer to him, and Sam wished that he believed her.

**********

Sam woke the next morning unrested and dreading the day ahead of him. He didn't want to leave the comfort he'd found in Charlie's flat. It was unfamiliar to him, and he found he could really imagine that it had only been him and Cassie visiting all along, and her parents would be waiting at the airport when they got home. Currently, he didn't think he could step into the Drake's house without his brother there, and he felt certain that he wouldn't be able to look Elena in the eye.

Sam had forced himself to eat dinner the previous night but had been incredibly unproductive otherwise, and now their flight planned to leave in a couple hours and he had not begun to pack. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled around the room, stuffing his things into his suitcase and wishing that a cup of coffee would appear in his hand. However, his unwillingness to actually make coffee vastly overpowered the desire to have it. Relief flooded Sam's mind when he finally stepped into the main room and Charlie had already brewed a full pot.

Sam poured himself a cup and didn't notice when it started to overflow. He swore loudly and stopped pouring as coffee ran everywhere.

"All good, mate?" Charlie asked, looking up from his newspaper. Sam scrambled for a kitchen towel and grumbled,

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Burn yourself?"

"I don't think so," Sam replied, but he honestly didn't know or care. All of his attention focused on mopping up the coffee. If his hand ached, he didn't notice.

"When d' you have to be a' the airport again?"

"I think the flight's around noon, right?" Sam said. He tossed the towel into the sink and proceeded to nearly overflow the coffee again, this time with creamer. Another choice word almost crossed his lips, but he caught himself and grimaced, and slumped down into a chair.

"Have you seen her this morning?" Charlie shook his head no.

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh. He took a large swig of his coffee and stood up again. He walked over to Cassie's room, rapped his knuckles against the door, and leaned towards it.

"Cassie? You awake? We, uh, we have to leave soon." He rested his weight partially against the door and nearly fell over when Cassie pulled it open from the other side.

"I'm packed," she said sullenly.

"Great. Well." She pushed past him with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Sam stared at her.

"Hey, wait. Just 'cause this fucking sucks doesn't mean you get to be rude."

"Why not?" She threw herself into an armchair and drew her legs up off the floor, curling herself into a ball. Sam opened his mouth to reply with something harsh, but Charlie caught his eye and gave a slight headshake. He closed his mouth and let his shoulders fall.

"I packed up the other suitcase," Charlie said awkwardly. "Didn't wanna make you two do it."

"Thank you," Sam said. "I'll, uh, get everything out to your car in a minute." After gulping down the entire cup of coffee, he grabbed both his own bag and Nathan's, and dragged them to the front door. Glancing nervously at Cassie, he scooped her duffle bag off the floor from beside her and hung the strap across his body. She avoided his gaze and he hurried away from her and headed outside.

Cassie refused to speak the whole way to the airport, and they didn't push her to talk. Sam's guess was that she hadn't slept any better than he had, and anyways, she had every reason to be quiet. Through the airport, he headed up all of their interactions with security and gate attendants, and just gently ushered Cassie wherever they needed to go.

On the plane, he told her to try and nap, and after a couple hours in the air she did eventually fall asleep. Sam finally relaxed slightly and turned on a movie on his player to distract himself.

Cassie's flailing hand caught Sam's headphones and yanked one out of his ear, and because of that he clearly heard her yelp. She jerked awake and her hands grasped at the arm rests on either side of her, her breathing labored. Unsure what to do, Sam looked around awkwardly and making eye contact with several of the people whose attention Cassie had caught.

Sam saw a concerned and well-meaning hostess coming down the aisle towards them and he quickly waved her away with a, "I got it. She's, um, my...niece." He turned his focus to Cassie and gathered her hand in his own.

"Hey, sweetheart, you okay?" he asked quietly. "It was just a dream, whatever it was." He found the button on the arm rest between them and flipped it up while moving her arm out of the way. As soon as that barrier was gone, she collapsed onto him, sobbing inaudibly. Sam wrapped his arms around her and did his best to ignore the stares.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I've got you." He kissed her hair and squeezed her tighter, grateful she couldn't see his face.

**********

The flight could not have felt longer, and it was nothing short of a miracle when they touched down in Miami. Sam did his best to force their way off the plane as fast as he could and steered Cassie by the shoulders in the direction of baggage claim. He had texted Elena when they landed, and just as she promised, they found her waiting by their flight's luggage carousel. As soon as she saw them, she dashed over and grabbed Cassie in a hug, pulling her out of Sam's grasp.

"Oh my God. Honey. How are you? Are you hurt? God, let me look at you." Elena pulled back and eyed her daughter up and down, before drawing Cassie back into her arms. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you." Her eyes shined with tears. "Let's get you home."

"Hey," Sam said. He winced at the glare she shot him.

"Thanks for getting her home," Elena said shortly. She mostly let go of Cassie but kept one arm over her shoulders. "Are you coming with us?"

"I- I was planning on it," Sam said. "Unless I'm not welcome."

"It's up to you." She had already turned Cassie and herself away from him, and while Sam inferred that it probably wasn't up to him, he had nowhere else to go at that moment. He jogged a couple steps to catch up and followed them.

"Elena, I'm sorry."

"You're going to have this conversation here?" she asked over her shoulder.

"No, just- can we be civilized? You're not the only one who's fucked up right now," he said, his tone laced with anger.

"You aren't the one who lost their husband."

"You're right. I lost my brother."

"Can you two knock it off?" Cassie said in a harsh voice. She stopped in her tracks and ripped herself out from under Elena's arm. Sam almost tripped over her. "I'm not going to listen to you two argue, and both of you blaming Sam isn't going to help anyone." With that, she stalked off towards the exit. Elena started to hurry after her, but she hesitated for a second before she did.

"I hope you can forgive yourself, Sam," she said, "but I can't forgive you."

**********