Greg sighed, gazing over at his team members. They'd had a rough day. Ed was silently fuming, his blue eyes staring coldly at Greg. Sam's fists were tightly clenched, his body stiff, and he and Jules kept shooting looks at each other. Wordy switched from staring at his hands to eyeing his teammates with a desolate look in his eyes.
And Spike - Spike was unusually quiet. He'd always spent the day cracking jokes, pulling pranks, and sweet-talking Babycakes, all with a huge grin on his face.
But Greg hadn't noticed much of any happiness surrounding the bomb tech lately. Ever since his meeting - his interrogation, Greg corrected bitterly - with Toth that day, Spike's smile had disappeared altogether, replaced by a grave expression. Now, he was huddled over, fiddling with the bandage on his hand, looking ready to jump out his chair if Greg spoke for too long.
"Alright, look guys, I know this was a tough debriefing. I think Toth pushed us all to our limits today, but I want everyone to know that whatever happens, I'm proud of you, of all of you. And you should be proud of yourselves too, because you push yourselves everyday, and this city is lucky to have you protecting it."
Jules immediately leaned forward, arms on the table as she frowned at Greg. "Whatever happens? Boss, you didn't do anything wrong. You're a wonderful sergeant. Toth was just being Toth."
Spike snorted. "Yeah, not even Babycakes would like him," he grumbled.
"He's just doing his job, Spike," Greg sighed.
Wordy scoffed. "Really? It's his job to attack us all personally? And for what, to get to you? Make us try to turn against you?" He shook his head, put his hands underneath the table. "Well, it's not gonna work. I'm on your side, Boss. I believe in you." Nods and murmurs of agreement went around the table.
Greg put up his hands, motioning for them to settle down. "Alright guys, thanks for the support," he said, nodding at Jules and Wordy. "But I did what I did and I take full responsibility for it. Now, that's enough of that talk for now. Now go, get home to your families and beds. If any of you need to talk, please do not hesitate to call me or Ed, or each other. We need to lean on each other, but we'll get through this. As a team."
As soon as he stopped talking, Spike shoved his chair back, giving his boss a questioning look. Greg nodded at Spike, who rushed out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. Greg looked at his team. Everyone looked a bit surprised at Spike's rather abrupt way of leaving, Jules and Wordy glancing over at the door as if they expected Spike to peak out at any moment now.
Greg sighed. "Alright, guys, give us a minute, okay? I wanna talk to Spike. Jules, you can go ahead to the locker room and change."
Jules simply folded her arms, sitting up straighter in defiance. "Thanks, Boss," she said, without looking up. "I'm good here."
Greg stood up. "Okay then," he said with a nod. After a pause, he turned around, heading for the men's locker room.
When Jules mentioned Toth's name, Spike immediately stiffened, gritting his teeth. "Yeah, not even Babycakes would like him," he muttered. And that's the polite way of putting it. Other members of the team chimed in, but Spike could no longer focus on their words.
He couldn't shake away the image of Lou stepping off the landmine. Of course, he hadn't actually seen it - he'd been dumb enough not to see through Lou's protective, selfless nature, not to realize that his friend would never have let him try the weight transfer. I don't see why. It would've worked, Spike thought angrily. I could have saved him, if only he'd have let me.
Suddenly the silent roar that had started between his ears sometime during with his meeting with Toth became almost unbearable. He heard his boss say something about going home to family, and he nearly emitted a bitter laugh.
Sure, he'd go home to family - to a father who could barely stand the sight of him, to a mother who was at her wit's end, to the horrifying truth that his last words to his father could be ones that he'd regret for the rest of his life.
Spike felt his throat tighten, and his eyes were becoming dangerously watery. He couldn't stay here for any longer. He couldn't let the team see him like this.
He shoved back his chair and looked at Greg pleadingly, asking permission to leave the room. Greg nodded solemnly, and Spike, relieved, jumped up and yanked open the door, not bothering to wait long enough to keep it from slamming.
Greg slowed as he approached the locker room. He hoped that Spike didn't feel that Greg like he was intruding, but he had to make sure that Spike was okay.
He opened the door to find Spike, still in full uniform, leaning over Lou's locker, breathing heavily, body trembling. He immediately went over to Spike, making sure to give him a bit of space. "Spike? Buddy, what's going on? You don't look so good."
Spike turned his head, and Greg could see tears streaming down his face, beads of sweat lining his forehead. But more concerning, his chest was heaving, and Greg could see that he was having trouble catching his breath. He's having a panic attack.
"Boss," Spike gasped. "He's - He's gone." Spike sank down heavily to the floor, with Greg grabbing his arm to support his fall. He looked up at Greg with wet, unfocused eyes, his breathing frantic and uneven. He clawed at his vest, and Greg could see the panic rising in him.
"He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, Spike whispered. Oh, Spike. Greg firmly took Spike by the shoulders.
"Spike, I see you're having trouble breathing buddy. I need you to breathe, okay?" Spike just continued his mantra, seemingly unaware that Greg had spoken. Unfazed, Greg continued.
"Spike, I'm going to help you take this off, okay? Take some pressure off, let you breathe a little easier," Greg said as he quickly undid the velcro on Spike's Kevlar vest. Greg helped Spike bring the vest through his arms, placing it on the bench beside them.
"Okay, slow breaths, Spike. C'mon, breathe with me - in, out. In, out. Good." They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Spike's breathing became less sporadic. Spike begin to slump down, shaking harder now, and Greg pulled Spike into a hug.
"I'm tired, Boss," Spike's muffled voice said.
"I know, Spike. I know. I gotcha, buddy. I've got you."
"I can't do this anymore. I don't want to," Spike said.
Greg's stomach sank, and he felt a chill throughout his body. "What do you mean, buddy?"
Spike shook his head. "I know Ma will be disappointed, and maybe Pa will hate me for hurting Ma." He pushed away from Greg, suddenly not wanting to be touched, not feeling deserving of that comfort. Lou didn't get that comfort.
Spike pulled himself up, using the bench for leverage, and began pacing the room. Greg got up as well, watching Spike with his arms slightly out, as if he were afraid Spike was about to fall.
Spike took in a shaky breath. "But I think he already hates me. And Ma, I don't know, I can't help her. I'm not enough, I'm never enough!" Spike shouted.
Greg shook his head vigorously, stepping forward and squeezing Spike's shoulder. "Spike, that's not true. You're a wonderful officer, a loving son -" Greg began.
Spike cut him off, whipping his head around to turn to Greg, eyes narrowed. Greg's eyes flittered to Spike's right hand, which was rested on his holster.
"Spike," Greg warned.
"You don't know what kind of son I am," Spike gritted out. "How could you? You don't know what goes on when I go home everyday." Spike shrugged off Greg's hand angrily, walking past him.
"Buddy, I hear you, I do. I understand that your dad is sick, that he's really sick. I'm really sorry to hear about that, Spike. I can't even begin to imagine how hard that is for you," Greg said.
Spike whirled around, walking towards Greg and angrily jabbing a finger at his chest. "You don't get to talk about my dad," he seethed. "You didn't even know that he was sick. Nobody did! That bastard Toth had to find out, and you just sat there, not knowing, Boss." His voice began to break.
"How did you not know that something was wrong?" Spike asked, a look of desperation on his face.
Spike stared at Greg with such an intensity that Greg nearly flinched, wanted to step away from Spike, but he knew that would be a wrong move. Greg felt helpless. Spike was right, of course - how was it that none of the team had noticed that Spike was struggling? How had he not noticed?
"I - Spike, I'm sorry. I should have noticed that something was wrong. I should've -"
"But you didn't." Spike's words reverberated through the room. "You failed me, just like we failed Lou, just like I failed Mac." A tear slid down his cheek. "We failed him, Boss." Spike slowly lifted up his right hand, noting the cold metal against his flushed skin. "I failed him."
Images of the people he'd lost filled his head: Mac, bleeding out, barely able to breathe, making Spike promise to take care of his daughter Leslie. He vividly remembered the awful moment when the team realized that Lou had stepped on a landmine, the terror that he'd felt when Lou had lifted up his foot.
And now, I'm about to lose Pa. I've failed everybody who matters most to me. Spike squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the painful memories, his heart racing.
Greg felt his heart pounding, hoping that his training would keep his voice even. "Spike," Greg said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
"Spike, put down the gun."