Hi, guys. I felt like crying when they announced that Season 5 would be Flashpoint's last. Sob. My heart is breaking to pieces over this news. Anyway, even though the superb show will eventually end, the fictions will keep on coming. So, here's another one to keep it alive!
Summary : While Sam is recuperating following a surgery, a woman abducts him from the hospital, thinking he was her dead husband.
"You're limping," Spike commented with a concerned frown.
"Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious," Sam responded with a roll of his eyes. "I pulled a muscle when chasing that SOB."
He gestured at the subject—a drug abuser who was a suspect in a recent killing of his own wife—now sitting handcuffed in the backseat of a patrol car. "That guy may look like a beanpole, as if a gust of wind can knock him over, but he has fast legs on him. Not an easy chase."
"Right. And everyone knows how you love to chase after fast things," Ed joined in the conversation. He gave Sam an intense gaze. "Braddock, you were already limping when you came into shift this morning. What, you pulled a muscle while chasing someone in your sleep?"
"Ha ha ha. Funny." Sam shook his head as he turned to go, but Jules was standing in his way.
"You have been limping since last night," she interjected with a glare, her arms akimbo. "I asked you about it and you told me that it was nothing serious."
"It is nothing serious." Starting to get annoyed, Sam tried to walk past her, only to bump into Raf's solid built. Throwing his hands in the air, the blond SRU officer grumbled, "Ah, terrific. You're all ganging up on me!"
"Sam, we can tell that you're not well." This came from the Sergeant who calmly walked over towards the group. "Your face is flushing."
Sam chuckled in dismissal. "I'm not blushing."
"I said flushing, not blushing. There's a difference. Your face is all red."
"And you are perspiring," Spike pointed out.
"Because it's hot! And I just ran almost a mile to catch our subject."
"Are you having a fever?" When Jules reached out to feel his forehead, Sam brushed her off.
"Enough. There's nothing wrong with me, okay? I don't need—"
"I did not kill her! Let me go, you bastards! I did not kill her, you hear me?"
In reflex, Team One swiveled around with their weapons raised towards the frantic shouting. The still handcuffed murder suspect was struggling for release as two uniform officers tried to settle him down. He kicked hard, sending one cop flying. Seeing an opening, he wiggled about and managed to push himself out of the patrol car. The other cop grabbed for his arm, but like an eel the suspect slithered away and started running.
"Great. Here we go again." His temper already flaring, Sam burst into speed, barely aware that Ed and Raf were just a step behind. The subject was running towards the freeway that bordered the seedy neighborhood, the same escape path he had taken before.
Sam was having none of that. He had gone tired of chasing after this guy. When only a few yards separated them, he threw caution to the wind and took a flying leap. The tackle sent both subject and SRU officer crashing to the ground, causing them to simultaneously cry out in pain.
"Don't move, don't move! Stay down!" Ed was yelling, his MP5 pointed straight at the subject's face. He then turned to Raf. "How's Sam doing?"
Before Raf could reply, Sam snapped back, "He is doing fine. Thanks for asking."
Grumbling curses under his breath, he rolled over and pushed himself up. "This time, they should cuff his legs too. Knowing this guy, he might try another runner—augghhh!"
Without warning, Sam cried out and bent over, grabbing his lower abdomen.
"Sam!" Raf reached over to hold him steady. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"
At first, Sam couldn't even speak, so sharp the agony was. His face screwing in a grimace, he took a few shaky breaths and released them through his mouth.
"Sam? You're alright?" asked Ed with a worried gaze. He had never seen Sam like that before.
"Yep. Peachy." Shrugging away from Raf, Sam straightened and started to double back to the rest of the team, his steps a little slow and hesitant.
This caused Ed to shake his head. "Like a pig."
"More like a bull," added Raf.
Sam paused to scowl at them. "What the hell you guys talking about?"
"The level of your obstinacy, Sam. That's what," said Ed, yanking the captured subject to his feet with Raf's assistance. "Either you're pigheaded or bullheaded. You pick. Whichever you choose, you're as stubborn as a mule."
Sam's only response was a sharp glare before he continued to limp forward. When he got to the patrol car, he grabbed the subject by the collar and shoved him face down into the vehicle. Sam quickly tied a flexi cuff around the subject's ankle, ignoring the man's cries of protest. That done, he then slammed the door shut and curtly told the unis to immediately take their 'package' away. Turning around, he noticed that his entire team was giving him a strange look.
"What?" he growled. "The guy pissed me off!"
"Dude, something's definitely not right with you," said Spike.
"Dude, lay off already," Sam retorted. "I repeat, nothing's wrong with me."
Parker put a calming hand on Sam's shoulder. "I think you should see a doctor."
"What do I need a doctor for? I'm perfectly fine."
"Oh, really? Prove it," Parker said with narrowed eyes. And then he added with a sharp bark, "Atten-hut!"
As an ex-military man who had been instilled with strict discipline since he was a child, Sam naturally reacted at the command. He reflexively stood up straight and still, eyes forward and arms pressed to the sides. But not for long.
Seconds later, Sam was doubled over, kneading his groin with a low moan.
"Perfectly fine, huh?" Sighing, Parker reached up to feel the younger man's clammy forehead. "You're burning up. Go to the hospital, Sam. Get yourself fully checkup."
"I don't need hospital. An aspirin will do." Sam instantly jerked away, genuinely angry now. "You guys making a big deal out of nothing. I'm not going to the hospital and no one can make me go!"
In unison, the rest of the team turned to Jules.
She blinked. "What do you want me to do? Shoot him? Not even a bullet can penetrate that thick skull of his."
"Bite me," Sam shot back.
Ed began to lose his patience. "Oh, for god's sake, Sam! Why are you being so difficult?"
"I'm not being difficult, okay? I'm being reasonable. So back off. I can handle little fever. I've had much worst."
Jules was smiling that knowing smile of hers. "I know why you're like this. You think you're such a macho guy. You hate being weak."
Sam scoffed. "What? That's ridiculous."
"Don't deny it, Sam. You're not well, you're obviously in pain, and that scares you. A lot."
"Come on. Give me a break." Albeit weakly, Sam laughed and turned to leave. Parker placed a restraining hand against his chest, though.
"Are you nauseated?" the Sergeant asked, sounding serious. Shaking his head, Sam started to say no. But then his face turned green, a second before he bent over to the side and vomited into the gutter.
"I guess that means yes," Spike deadpanned, patting his upchucking teammate in the back.
Parker's face was grim. "Alright, that's it. We're sending you to the hospital."
"Boss…"
"No argument, Sam. I've seen these symptoms before. Aspirin won't help you at all."
"Symptoms to what, Sarge?" Raf wanted to know.
"Strangulated hernia."
At that, Sam's eyes grew wide with shock, and then he vomited some more.
"Winnie," Parker spoke into his mic, "Get an ambulance here fast. Tell them that we have an officer who needs an immediate surgery on a suspected strangulated hernia."
"Copy, Boss."
Quickly rinsing his mouth with a bottled water that Jules had passed to him, Sam protested, "No, no. Scratch that ambulance. I'll go to the hospital on my own."
"Sorry, Sam. Right this moment, we don't trust you. We will put you into that ambulance ourselves to ensure that you get there."
Sam looked like he wanted to object, and so Parker quickly said, "I knew someone. Like you, he showed all the symptoms, suffering intense pain near the groin area. He was advised to go to the hospital for immediate surgery. And like you, he refused."
"What happened to him next?" Ed was curious.
"He died within hours later."
And so, when the ambulance finally arrived, Sam let himself being loaded onto the stretcher, grumbling all the way about smothering 'mother-hens'. At least he had stopped arguing.
"I just hope we're not too late," Parker ruefully remarked when the paramedics shut close the back door of the ambulance. "Unbelievable. He shouldn't even be on shift today. He has been in a lot of pain and still he pushes himself. Heck, he even managed to catch the subject. Twice."
"Like I said. Pig," Ed responded, his head shaking.
"Mule is more like it," Jules retorted. She was deeply worried, but was able not to make it too obvious. "Stubborn, stupid and making an ass of himself about it."
"No argument there," the rest of Team One replied, watching as the ambulance quickly disappeared from sight, sirens blaring.
The medical team at the hospital confirmed what Sergeant Parker's had predicted. It was indeed a strangulated hernia. Without wasting time, Sam was immediately admitted for herniorrhaphy.
He couldn't recall any of it, thank God, as he was totally out cold during the entire procedure. The anesthetic only began to wear off when they wheeled him out of surgery, though his mind still felt as if it was filled with cottons. His surroundings looked so vague and blurry he thought he was dreaming.
Some women were quarrelling nearby, he could hear. Yet, in his bleary state, it sounded so far away and indecipherable. At first he thought it was Jules, giving the nurses a hard time. That made him grin. But then he realized that was highly unlikely as Team One should still be on shift. He gave a mental shrug at that and drifted into sleep.
It felt like only minutes later when he was pulled back to consciousness as someone gently shook him awake. His eyes fluttered open and found a dark-haired woman smiling down at him.
"Jules…"
"No, dear. It's me. Angel," said the woman, still smiling as she caressed his cheek.
"You're an angel?" Sam blinked, thoroughly confused. "Am I dead?"
She softly laughed. "Oh, honey, it's me. Angela. But you've always called me Angel."
"Angela. Who…do I know you?"
She tsked. Lowering the bedrail, she said, "Well, I don't blame you for not recognizing me. This people shot you up with too much drugs, enough to addle your brain."
"Wait. Wh…what are you doing?"
Swiping the covers off him, the woman placed an arm around Sam's shoulders and carefully pulled him upright. "I'm going to get you out of here fast. Before they kill you!"
Sam blinked. He thought he didn't hear that right. And most importantly, who the hell was this woman?
"What do you mean? Who's going to kill me?" Sam stared, stupefied, as she unhooked him from the heart monitor.
"There's no time to talk, Adam. We've got to move now before Nurse Ratched comes back. Here, let me help you put this on," she said and deftly wrapped him with a dressing robe.
"Hold on," Sam protested. He tried to push her away, but his limbs felt so heavy. His entire body was still in lethargy from the anesthetic. Besides, she was quite strong for a woman, and he just had a surgery, for crying out loud! "Angel, Angela, whoever you are, I'm not Adam."
Holding his gaze, she shook her head. "I know this is confusing to you, my dear. But trust me, I'm trying to save your life. You're in danger here."
"But it's a hospital!"
"Exactly. That's why you need to leave." With an exceptional strength, the woman helped lift Sam and transferred him into a wheelchair waiting by the bed.
"Angela, you're making a mistake—hey!" He cried out when the woman suddenly jabbed his arm with a syringe.
"It's to keep you calm, make you relax," she responded in an assuring tone. "Don't worry, honey. I'll take care of you."
Sam's vision started to swim. The woman's face was growing out of focus. Whatever she had injected him with, it was not to keep him awake. "Who….who are you?"
"Why, dear. I'm your wife," was her innocent reply.
"Wife?" Sam jerked in surprise.
And then he knew nothing more.
TBC...
