A.N: My first Flashpoint fanfic. I actually know nothing about guns and nothing about military engagements etc. So this is just my imagination… any factual errors are my bad. Correct me if you find any, please.

This is just a short prologue by the way.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable people are owned by CTV. I do not own anything.

XXX

"We were cleared to shoot," Sam's voice broke. "He wasn't supposed to be there… We were cleared to shoot…"

XXX

(Dream)

It was that dream again.

He was back in Afghanistan, lying on his stomach with his partner Scott Gilman beside him, who was putting together his sniper rifle as fast as humanly possible. Sam adjusted his own rifle, pushing away at some bushes that were in his way.

They were yards away from a stronghold and his mission was simple. Take it out.

He squinted into his telescopic sight and shifted his hand slightly right, his gun perfectly in place for the shot.

"Everything's in order," Scott whispered to Sam. "All ready. Just waiting for the clear."

Sam nodded and pressed his radio. "Are we clear?"

"Sit tight for a second, boys," the male voice replied. "Intel is still coming through."

"Copy," Sam bristled. He was never one to sit still. Even as a kid, he had to move around, he had to do something with his hands. It was one of the many factors that contributed to his quick trigger finger. Of course, it was sometimes a good thing, sometimes a bad thing.

He saved many innocent lives because he was quick to react. He had also put lives at danger because of the same brash attitude and his shoot-first-ask-later morale. He had been warned by his superiors twice already, so he knew he had to be more patient and wait this one out. Three strikes and you're out, they had cautioned.

"Clear," the male voice through the radio responded. "You got that?"

"Yessir," Scott said and nodded at Sam.

Sam grinned, a sense of relief settling through him as he aimed and fired.

Years of experience helped him recover quickly and expertly from the recoil and he quickly aimed again and fired.

Suddenly, something pulled him forward, through the air right into the stronghold. And he stopped right in front of a familiar face. A face darkened by the sun, framed by short brown hair and set with a pair of piercing green eyes. A familiar pang hit Sam's chest – it was Matt Johnston.

"No…"

Matt was staring straight ahead, a smile set on his face when it suddenly froze and he was hit backwards and fell straight to the ground. A reverberating bang sounded through the whole floor.

It was suddenly silent.

It was as if suddenly there was nobody there but him and Matt. Nothing registered – nothing but those green eyes.

And the red bullet hole in between them.

(End Dream)

Sam bolted awake, adrenaline and fear pounding through his veins. He curled up on his side and tried to control his breathing, to slow his heartbeat. A tear fell from his eye so he quickly wiped it away, gaining control of his emotions.

"Damn it," he muttered and sat up. He reached for a lone photo on his bedside table. It showed a family picture with two young men, one only slightly older with his arm around the shoulder of the younger one, and their mother and father over their shoulder. All four of them were smiling brightly and it seemed like the epitome of a perfect and happy family.

It was a family picture of Matt's family a year ago, during his leave right before going to Afghanistan. They were a close bunch. Matt had told Sam that he and his brother Tyler were like best friends. Tyler was two years younger than Matt and the two were practically inseparable during their childhood years. Their friendship survived throughout high school and even university when Matt left for Alberta from Toronto.

"You would've liked him," Matt had said to him. "He was like you – brash and enthusiastic, liked all those extreme sports."

Sam gripped the picture tightly, causing it to wrinkle slightly. He hadn't got the nerve to try and find them now. What was he supposed to say? "Hi, I'm Sam Braddock, a friend of Matt's. You remember me? We met that one time last year before we left. Well, I'm here to say I killed your son. Oh it was an accident and I'm terribly sorry…"

As if.

He ruined the picture perfect family. He had murdered his friend…

Damn it. He wiped away another tear that escaped.

Sam put away the picture and carefully flattened the wrinkles he had made. Then, he slowly slid back into his bed, curling up on his side and away from the picture.

"I'm so sorry Matt…"

XXX

End of Prologue.

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