[ she sobs, and sam simply holds it - lets his hand rub reassuringly against her back, letting her shake a bit under his arms. he can only imagine what it is she's dealing with, how trauma to that degree builds and builds until the body, quite literally, can't hold on to it. there is a good while here where sam doesn't say anything at all and just lets her work through it.

there is solid validity to a good cry, and sam has a feeling that even if julie has or hasn't had one, he doubts she's had one in any way feeling safe. or maybe not even safe, but reassured. her voice is hoarse when she speaks, and her fingers are at his sides, curled into the fabric of his shirt, and leans his face against the side of her hair. ]

I know. [ he offers, which isn't much but hopefully - in this moment - enough. ] They probably won't, but we can always keep trying. [ he squeezes her again, before letting go - not going far, but pulling back enough to get his hands on her shoulders, to get a look at her face. he really doesn't care the state she may or may not be in, because this is more for her to see him. how serious he is, how genuine, how much he means it when he says- ] Nothing's going to happen to you, Julie. Not if I have anything to say about it.