A.N. So I needed to take a break from This Rookie's Life and this is the end result. It is hybrid of Flashpoint and Rookie Blue – at least in this chapter. It is not a crossover and SRU will only make sporadic appearances. It is definitely an AU, but I plan to keep the characters as close to canon as possible.
Disclaimer: Do not own Rookie Blue, Flashpoint or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.
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Chapter 1 – Drug Busted
"All right, coppers! Listen up!" Staff Sergeant Boyko yelled from the front podium in the parade room.
The rookies lined in the front row jumped slightly in their seats while the veteran officers continued to chatter idly amongst themselves. The rookies were in the middle of their second rotation on shift, the first week having flown by in a flash of B&E's, domestics and traffic calls. Whatever they had expected their job to be like straight out of the academy was vastly different from what it ended up being.
Boyko continued to stare out at the grouping of officers and detectives waiting patiently for them to quiet down. He was more than ready to move on to his newest promotion, but the higher ups were still debating between Frank Best and Noelle Williams to replace him as Staff Sergeant. He figured it couldn't hurt to end his career at 15 Division with quite possible the largest drug bust in Toronto history, so he waited patiently until slowly and surely the chatter stopped and all eyes were on him.
"Tonight is our lucky night," Boyko started. "A major drug bust is happening in just a few hours, facilitated by one of our own." He pushed one of the rolling white boards in the front of the room to the side and revealed another board littered with pictures and notes. "Our guy, Sammy, has been undercover for the last nine months," Boyko said, pointing to a picture of a dark haired, dark eyed guy with stubble along his jaw. The photo was definitely taken sometime after he went undercover, as it showed him and another washed-out looking guy trading cash for drugs. Sammy was looking directly at the camera like he knew it was there.
"Go Sammy!" Shaw piped up from the back and gave a high five to Noelle.
"He's been working this guy," Boyko continued and slapped a hand against another photo, this time of an older gentleman, well dressed, meticulously groomed and with fierce ice-blue eyes. "Anton Hill. He's the biggest importer of heroin into the city. And a shipment worth millions has been unloaded at his warehouse on the Lake. He and a small army of workers will be there in a few hours to pick up the shipment."
"What's the plan?" Noelle asked, a muscular woman with her hair in multiple braids, the only feminine feature she possessed – at least while in uniform.
"We're teaming up with Toronto SRU for the takedown. It's their operation, but we're there for arrests and any crowd control," Boyko replied.
There were groans from the veterans. Everyone knew that SRU thought they were the best and could handle any situation better than the local police force. Not a single officer walked away from a scene with SRU who didn't instantly dislike them, even though they worked with them every time a major warrant was issued. It was always good to have a sniper handy when trying to arrest drug traffickers and their ilk. It was a known fact the various city workers – fire and police (including SRU) tended to stay with their own. Each had their own particular after-hours stomping grounds and they stayed away from each other. Yet, they came together every day to keep the streets of Toronto a little safer.
"I know. I get the animosity, but we have to remember one of our guys will be in the middle of it. We need to get Sammy out safely and securely. He will be arrested and brought in with everyone else. No special treatment, so don't show you know him. Hill is not aware there is a mole in his organization. We can't risk alerting him to Sammy's identity," Boyko explained.
"When is this going down?" Brian Stone, one of the training officers, asked.
"We have two hours to organize and get to the staging area. We will meet with SRU there and get further instruction," came the answer. "Rookies!"
All had been listening intently, each praying for a chance to prove them selves.
"All rookies are to stick like glue to their training officers. There will be no heroics. You will follow instruction to the letter or risk being on desk for the rest of your careers," Boyko instructed sternly. "Serve, Protect and Stay Safe!"
"Wow! If this actually happens, we will be a part of history," Chris Diaz whispered excitedly as the rookies shuffled to their feet to follow the rest out of the room.
"I know, right?" Dov Epstein agreed with a slight squeal of delight. "Anton Hill has locked down all heroin traffic in Toronto, you can't buy any on the street that can't be traced back to him."
"How would you know?" Chris asked incredulous, holding the door open.
Dov shrugged his shoulders non-committedly. He wasn't about to admit his brother had had ties to lowlife drug dealers for the majority of his short life. That part of his life was over and it was best to move forward and not look back at the less than savory aspects of his life.
"Like they will actually let us do anything," Gail Peck sneered, rolling her eyes at Dov and poking Chris in the arm to get him to move and stop staring at Dov. "We're rookies. We'll be lucky if we get to baby-sit the squad cars, much less make an arrest of our own."
The rookies paired off with their T.O's and everyone else picked for the op, loaded up the squads with extra handcuffs, medic bags, Tasers and anything else that might be useful to have on hand. Those sent out on patrol were told to keep an eye and ear out for anything which could disrupt the op or show Anton Hill knew the police were closing in on him.
It was a solemn drive from 15 Division to the warehouse district along the coast of Lake Ontario. Sixteen squads from 15 Division pulled haphazardly into a large warehouse, there were already several unmarked cars and the unmistakable black SUV's utilized by SRU. A command center with numerous computers and monitors was set up along one wall with two people manning it.
Traci Nash, a quiet and studious rookie, sidled over to her T.O. Shaw once all squads were parked. The police officers stood off to one side awaiting direction. Most watched the activity surrounding the SRU officers avidly. Tension in the warehouse was so thick Traci thought it could be cut with a knife.
"Who are they?" Traci asked quietly nodding towards a group of plain clothes huddling around a table.
"Guns and Gangs," Shaw replied tersely. "Sammy reports directly to them. Detective Donovan Boyd is the head of the Hill operation, he's the only one who has had contact with Sammy while he's been gone."
"So he requested SRU?"
"Yeah, Hill is lethal. He kills for the joy of it. He not only runs heroin, but also has several underage prostitutes. He starts them young so they are dependent on him, when they're too old to hook anymore; he trains them to deal drugs. We'll need SRU for their snipers," Shaw explained quietly and then nodded his head towards a group of six.
Five were men and the other a smallish woman. All wore protective headgear; earpieces and a small arsenal of weapons were strapped to their bodies. Traci found two other groups of six and a huddle of three others talking, she assumed they were the commanders of each group of six. Her suspicions were confirmed when they split up and headed towards their own groups. Traci was impressed to see there was only one woman in the bunch and the amount of respect the others showed her.
"All eyes over here!" A loud booming voice yelled and all talking instantly stopped and all eyes were on the center of the room. Detective Boyd had a hard lined face, a no-nonsense voice and piercing blue eyes. He gave a slight sneer towards the rookies as though he knew exactly who they were and if given his way would be nowhere near his operation. Traci felt an instant dislike for the guy.
"In about ten minutes we'll start to see Hill and his guys show up for the shipment. The crates were dropped off earlier this afternoon from a cargo ship. We wait until Hill has started to load up his trucks and then SRU will issue the warrants. We expect them to run scared, so be alert and start arresting fast and efficiently. My guy, Sammy, will be near Hill. SRU is to arrest both Hill and Sammy. Stay out of the way," Boyd explained, walking around so everyone could hear him. He paused only once and that was to stare at the one SRU woman. Traci didn't see the look on his face, but she saw the woman visibly tense her shoulders and glare back at him. "If all goes well, we'll have Hill's organization behind bars before the sun comes up."
"Okay, let's keep quiet and let's be safe out there," a short bald SRU agent said. "Team 1, locate and stay with Hill. Team 2 will be on the roof providing back up and Team 3 will approach from the back," he instructed.
All three teams headed towards different exits from the warehouse. Boyko proceeded to instruct his officers and before any of the rookies were ready for it, the sound of cars approaching filled the air. The inside of the warehouse immediately went silent. Only the SRU agents peered out the windows and with a quick flick of the commander's wrist, they filed out silently into the night.
Finally, finally, were the only thoughts going through Sam's mind as he peered out the window from the backseat of a dark sedan, his boss, Anton Hill sitting next to him smoking a foul smelling Stogie. Nine months since Boyd had first dropped him off at a shitty apartment where he had one room with a bed, a hot plate and tiny fridge. He had to share the bathroom at the end of the hall with the other drug users and he had the warts on his feet to prove it. He could already taste the freedom of heading back to his townhouse at the end of the night. He could have a hot shower, a cold beer, clean clothes and cable TV. But first . . .
"See anything, Sammy?" Anton asked around the stogie in his mouth.
Sam pulled his gaze away from the approaching warehouses and back onto his boss. He scratched at the inside of his elbow, where he could still feel the prick of the needle from earlier that evening.
"Nah, s'quiet," he answered.
"Mmmhmm."
Sam went back to staring outside, occasionally scratching at his arm. He had gotten good at faking it when the others shot up around him, saline in the syringe was easily masked in a dark room with the others too out of it to really care. He only ever smoked some of the pot the junkies kept on them at the apartment, but it was more to keep him calm than anything else. He could take it or leave it. He had to keep up appearances. It wasn't hard, he barely ate as it was and he had lost a good twenty pounds, the stubble was easy to keep up and the clothes he had brought with him had become baggy with the weight loss and dingy from the few cleanings he managed in the ancient washing machine in the basement of his building. God, he couldn't wait to get home.
As they passed the first few warehouses and headed out towards the one securing the shipment, Sam felt the air crackle around him. He knew SRU was out there hiding, waiting for the optimal time to rush them, but he couldn't see them. A furtive glance up at the dark sky revealed nothing out of the ordinary. But they were out there. He had made the call to Boyd just that morning about the shipment coming in and where Hill would be, the fact that Hill would be there at all was a surprise since he preferred to stay at his restaurant to avoid being caught with the drugs, but a million worth of heroin was too great a risk to trust his guys with. It was the break Sam had been waiting for.
Once out of the car, Sam sent up a silent prayer for the night to be over with swiftly and safely. He walked into the warehouse behind Hill, his gun tucked in the back of his jeans, he had several knives strapped on under his clothes as well, but he didn't think he'd need them. He had caught a glint of silver on the roof of the adjacent building. Just inside the door, Sam turned to check once more, scratched at his arm and shut the door.
Now or never
Once, three years ago, she loved her job. The little thrill in her belly every time the hot call came in. The familiar weight of her weapons strapped to her body, knowing how to use each and every one of them. Even the constant chatter in her earpiece as they talked each other through the situation gave her a thrill. They were a family, five brothers and a father figure – they all cared about each other, in and out of each other's lives every day, it helped keep the stress and anxiety at bay, knowing that someone else had gone through the same shit as she had. They kept each other balanced, listened when the job got to be too much and celebrated babies, marriages and everything in between together.
Not any more.
She could feel the cool metal of the rings hanging between her breasts; she never left home without them on. She stood behind Ed waiting for the signal to storm the building. Team 3 getting in to position, now that the major players had arrived and entered the building. All exits were covered, Team 2 was scattered on the rooftops surrounding them. All were on the same channel to communicate. Any other night she would have preferred to be on the rooftop, but she wasn't in the mood to stay still. She needed a little action to get the blood pumping, to feel alive just one more time.
"Count it down." Ed said softly, she could hear him in stereo as he used the mike for all to hear.
"On three," she replied, her heart pounding, blood pumping, feeling alive. "One . . . Two . . . Three."
It always happened fast, though it felt like slow motion at the time. The bang of multiple doors slamming open at once, windows being blown opened, the sounds of commands to raise their arms and drop their weapons, flashlights whipping around to see where some had fled. The harsh sound of boots echoing in pursuit as one by one the SRU constables chased after them.
Her eyes were trained on the elderly gentleman and stoned junkie standing next to him. They were the only two who hadn't moved an inch since the doors opened. Neither had weapons in their hands, the gentleman stood next to a table with bags of heroin and a measuring plate.
"Anton Hill, we have a warrant for your arrest," Ed said loudly, his gun trained on the man in front of him.
The man raised an eyebrow and flicked his eyes around the warehouse, as though slowly coming to the realization there might be a mole in his operation. The grin he gave before raising his arms chilled her to the bone.
Ed lowered his weapon and it was only then she realized the rest of the police officers were taking those arrested out and her own Team had their weapons trained on the two in front of them. Ed slapped cuffs on Hill, reading him his rights and leading him away.
She swung her weapon around her body so it rested comfortably between her shoulder blades, pulled out her cuffs and walked towards the junkie. He waited patiently for her with a grimace. She knew he was the undercover cop, but that didn't make her any less harsh with the cuffs, nor did the knowledge it was the first time she had seen him in nearly seven years.
The rest of Team 1 lowered their weapons but kept an eye out for anyone who may have escaped, shielding both of them on the way out. She brought him directly to an empty squad car, a typical cop with a slight paunch and balding head, leaning against the opened back door.
"He's all yours, Officer," she said softly and helped him in to the back of the car a little more gently than she would have for another offender.
Once the door was shut, they stared at each other for a moment, before she turned on her heel and walked over to her commander for instruction.
"Good work, Team!" Parker said. "We can head back to the station. We'll have a quick debrief and then I say we head out for a celebratory drink."
"It's good to see you, brother."
"You too, brother," Sam replied with a smile.
The Penny was packed, as it appeared all off-duty cops were celebrating the takedown of Hill. Sam had no intention of heading to the Penny when he had been let out of the holding cell, but after a hot shower had cleared his head and gotten the god awful smell of stale pot off him, the idea of his cold dusty house had lost some of its appeal. So, wearing a pair of too-big jeans and an old t-shirt he had found in his locker he headed to the bar to raise a glass to the end of the shittiest undercover op he had worked to date.
Ollie gestured to the stool next to him and motioned the bartender, Liam, over.
"Sam! Good to have you home," Liam said with total sincerity. "Double scotch neat, on the house for you, Sam."
They clinked glasses and drank.
Sam stared down at the amber liquid and felt his thoughts slip back to earlier in the evening. It had been a shock to see her, especially with a gun trained on him. He had barely recognized her in the uniform, until she got close enough, because for as long as he lived he would never forget her dark chocolate brown eyes, once filled with the inexperience of innocent youth they had looked at him with cold indifference in the warehouse – worse as if they had never met before.
"You gonna be okay, brother?" Ollie asked with a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Yeah," he replied with a shake of his head. "Long and crazy day is all."
"True."
Sam didn't feel like talking and spent more time looking around the bar, a small part of him hoping she would show up. He saw Jerry eye a young skinny rookie, who gave him a raised eyebrow and quirk towards the back door. Sam's own eyebrows went up at seeing his friend follow the rookie out of the bar.
"Yeah, that's been happening," Ollie confirmed with a shake of his head.
Sam only stayed until his drink was gone, trading small talk with Ollie, but for the most part keeping silent. The whole night felt a bit surreal. That morning he had woken up Sammy Lowlife Drug Dealer and by the evening, he was back to being Sam Swarek Officer of the Law. He could still feel the drugs he had taken earlier in his system. The thought of a cold dusty house sounded more and more appealing as the night wore on.
"Hey, are you decent?" Sergeant Parker asked from the doorway of the women's locker room.
She had been sitting there fully dressed for thirty minutes. Debrief had been quick and painless, but once relieved to go change, she couldn't get further than sitting down on the bench in front of her locker. Her arms rested on her knees and she watched as the chain around her neck swung back and forth, the rings hanging from them twinkling in the light.
"Yeah, Boss," she said quietly, her hands clasped tightly together.
Greg Parker eased in to the room and sat down beside her. She wouldn't look at him. He swallowed around a lump in his throat at the sight of the rings. Three months later and the pain of loss took his breath away.
"We're heading over to Lucky's for food and drinks," he began. "I think the guys would like to send you off in style."
She shook her head and closed her eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears. "I can't," she whispered.
Greg nodded. "We're going to miss you around here," he stated softly. "You'll be hard to replace. You'll both be hard to replace," he amended quietly.
She nodded once and glanced over at him.
"You did great today. You're one of the best we've had. Team 1 wouldn't have been the same without you. It won't be the same," Greg said.
"Thanks," she replied.
"No matter what," he said with a grin, "you'll always be welcome at Lucky's, just don't be a stranger."
"Thank you, Boss," she answered, tears spilling over.
Greg wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. "I'll let the guys know you'll stop by later," he said, standing up a minute later. Off her look, he added, "they'll understand when you don't show."
She nodded and stood up to clear out her locker.
"Hey," Greg said from the doorway, one hand on the knob and turned towards her. She looked over at him with an expectant look. "Good luck, McNally."