I want to write this budding romance in the same way as Flashpoint writers appear to be writing it into the series. Weaving it into the fabric of real life; fleshing it out with truth. Readers want and deserve a realistic portrayal, nothing abrupt, allowing for things to develop slow and easy. This is dedicated to all of you who believe in love.
This chapter will make your heart skip. This is a promise I intend to keep.
I don't own Flashpoint but that shouldn't matter as I'm only borrowing Spike, Winnie and Team 3.
A Pleasant Surprise
Winnie had been at her desk since 7am. She had despatched Team Three to diffuse a domestic emergency involving a man who had been threatening to throw his three-year-old boy out the third story window following a dispute with his ex. So to say they were off to a bad start was an understatement.
It was Spike's day-off. He was only at HQ to retrieve some personal stuff he forgot to take with him the night before. On passing Winnie's desk he gave her a brief wave of acknowledgment. She nodded and gave him a tight smile while at the same time speaking on her headset. A wave. Always just a wave. It's the story of my life. Three years. Sigh. But who's counting?
Winnie forced herself to focus on the call; forcibly pushing the thought of her secret to the back of her mind. Every night she told herself she was not in love with Spike, how could she love someone she hardly knew? Yeah, keep telling yourself that. If you say it often enough you might start to believe it.
Inside the locker room, Spike gathered his uniform to take them to a laundry cleaner. Since his mum left for Italy, he had had to look after himself so things like the laundry just had to be outsourced. He worked long hours and often overtaken by utter exhaustion but the two things he wouldn't compromise on were keeping his apartment clean and tidy and cooking his own meals. But the laundry? Who cares who did them so long as it was done?
As he passed through the corridor, he heard Winnie passing information to Donna, Team 3's very efficient Sargent and Chief Negotiator. He didn't know why but he stopped in his tracks to watched her, out of interest may be. He had never seen her at work. Well, he had seen her but never really taken any interest, so from his peripheral vision, he watched Winnie do her thing.
Winnie was surrounded by three computer screens, each one giving her live updates and information on a "needs basis." She had her headset firmly in place on her head and was listening to all the noises and the voices, sometimes all speaking at once. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, mining for information. She was the princess of multitasking. This went on for a good half an hour.
Spike could tell from where he stood that the situation had escalated because Winnie suddenly stood up, and started pacing. It struck him how emotionally invested Winnie was to the Team. This surprised him as she always sounded detached on the head set. He had never heard her voice waver once and sometimes had been a steadying influence when shit had hit the fan.
Winnie cupped her hands to her mouth to keep herself from shouting out, closed her eyes and whispered, "Jesus." Her shoulders sagged, unable to cope with not being able to be out there herself, to help out, to do something. He knew the feeling. He had often been left in the truck while Sarge or Jules negotiated a subject down to safety. He sat inside the van, sometimes even trying to swallow the bile coming out of his stomach.
He thought back to a case, a time when Jules was negotiating with Jamie Dee, James Dun Leavy, the Boy Wonder. He sat in the truck, hardly blinking and hoping against hope that it wouldn't come to that. He could still remember the deep breathe that escaped from him, from the depth of his soul, when it was resolved without a shot being fired.
Spike didn't take his eyes off Winnie who continued to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then, almost feeling faint, she sat back down.
Spike didn't ask for permission. He didn't ask to be invited which surprised him in a way. He just grabbed a chair and sat next to Winnie. He grabbed the extra pair of head set from the drawer, put it on so he could listen in. At that moment, they looked at each other, intensely.
Without speaking, Spike took both of Winnie's hands and allowed her to squeeze his own as the tension built. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now and she was inhaling and exhaling. He followed her rhythm to aid her breathing. As a member of the SRU, he was trained in sniper breathing technique. In one instance, he was designated Sierra One, meaning, he was to be the one to take the lethal shot. If it had come to it, he could have taken down the man who shot his Team Leader, Ed Lane, seven times. Not many people acknowledge it but Spike had a 95% shooting accuracy. He had to if he was to remain a member of the SRU Team One. Bomb tech or not! Computer geek or not!
Breathing with him meant Winnie didn't get to hyperventilate. People tended to breathe too quickly for their own good when stressed or under duress. After three exhales, Winnie was following Spike's breathing, steady and rhythmic, they were still focused on the call.
"He's tossed the boy," it was Donna's voice. The voice was professional and calm. Donna said it as a matter of fact, how she does it is beyond me, I would have been screaming my heart out, thought Winnie.
"I got him," it was Todd, he was a floor below the father and the son and he just caught the boy in time as he sailed down through the air.
They both heard everyone gasp as Todd dangled on a rope with the boy wrap in his arms. They could hear Todd's strained and pained voice as the rope burned into his skin. The impact of his shoulders against the wall would certainly cause massive bruising but that would be nothing compared to the joy he would be feeling having saved a life. The toddler clung around his neck, terrified, traumatised but very much alive.
The save was followed by a flurry of activities. Winnie took control again; took control of her emotions, her senses and her mental faculties. She asked the responding EMS, "Where are you taking the child?" Spike became aware how self-sacrificing she must be to be putting someone else's welfare before hers. Of course, they all did that but she was here conscientiously doing her job without so much a pat on the back. They at least got to back slap each other's back for a job well done. He resolved that from now on he would acknowledge her and say, "Well done" when they wrap up.
"Copy that," she said politely when told to send in the crime technicians to process the crime scene.
Everyone was winding down but Winnie was still on the call wrapping things up. Spike sat there watching her. A new respect formed in his consciousness for this delicate looking woman. He was pleasantly surprised at her efficiency and her dedication to her job and to her fellow emergency workers.
How does she cope with all the stresses that come with the job? He thought. I've got the Team to back me, she's got no one, at least none that I know.
He looked at his wrist watch, it was nearly time for Winnie to clock out, too. He voiced the first thing that came to mind, "Would you like to debrief that call with me?"
Winnie turned, as if realising he was still sitting next to her, she searched his eyes and translated the question, "Are you asking me to go out for coffee?"
"Yeah, I am," he replied. He had never ever noticed it before but now he was aware of it, there was a certain loveliness about her.
