Disclaimer: Lyrics are from Linkin Park's Leave Out All The Rest, and are most definitely not mine! I don't own Flashpoint or any of its characters, because Santa says I haven't been a good girl.

Warnings: Rated T for some coarse language in places.

Other: Just a little one shot I've had bouncing around in my head for a while. I thought it would be interesting to tell the story from the other side for a change. Hope you enjoy!

Surfaces

Surfaces come in all shapes and sizes – firm, yielding, hot, cold; the size of a tabletop, or of a continent. The surface I was looking at was hard, grey, and ten stories below me.

The wind rushed around me, tugging and pulling at my clothes, threatening to toss me from my rooftop perch. Adrenaline surged through me redundantly; though my mind was reconciled with what I was about to do, my body clearly was not. I tested myself, lifting one foot from the ledge and holding it above the abyss. Far below, cars roared along, oblivious to my existence, rushing home to their families and loved ones before the darkness set in. All I had to do was let myself fall forward, and in one brief, brutal moment I would be the non-entity they imagined me to be.

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
'Cause no one else cared.

Slowly, I lowered my foot back onto the rugged roof top. I was not without guilt, not without compassion, without regret for what I would leave behind. I was not a bad person. But I was a weak one, and that I could readily admit. Yes, I'm weak, not strong enough to be a part of this world, to live the life I had somehow created for myself. It didn't mean I wasn't sorry for the pain I would inflict on those I left behind. I was not entirely unloved, of that I was sure, but it wasn't enough to keep me anchored in this world. Love was not enough to pull me from sunrise to sunset, to sunrise again. When the sun rose on tomorrow's world, I would no longer be a part of it. I looked down into the abyss, and prepared myself to be swallowed by it.

"Sir?"

I started, scanning behind me for the source of the unwelcome intrusion. Could a man not even die in peace in this city?

"Hey, take it easy."

My eyes fell onto the uniformed figure, with balding head and creases around his eyes: laughter lines? Frown lines, maybe? I wasn't sure – people never were my strong point. He looked friendly though, in a non-threatening way that reminded me somehow of the teddy bears that watched over me as I slept when I was a boy. I felt a sudden pang of sadness. That boy had been so full of life, of hope. He was going to be a racing driver, or an astronaut. He never thought he would grow up to be me.

The teddy bea- the cop took a step forward, smiling reassuringly at me. I was not reassured.

"My name's Greg Parker, I'm with the police strategic response unit. We saw you up here, and we were a bit worried. You're a bit close to the edge there; do you think you could take a step back?"

"Stay away from me," I warned him. Everything in my life up to this point had been a struggle, and now it seemed I would have to fight even to die. It was just so damned unfair.

"Yeah, I can do that," he said. "To tell you the truth I'm not crazy about heights. How about you?"

They're not so scary when you've already decided to fall, I thought to myself, as he took another step.

"Stay back!"

"Don't worry," he said, disregarding my warning again and stepping slowly closer. "I just want to talk."

"I don't want to talk! I just want to be left alone."

"Okay, well," he nodded, "I'll see what I can do about that, but first, can you tell me why you came up here?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or scream with frustration; was he going to make me spell it out for him? I took in his concerned expression as I groped for the right words, a way to make him see that I had no way forward, that this was all that was left for me.

"I don't have a choice." It sounded lame, even to me. My drained, emotionless voice was hollow in my own ears.

"I'm sure that's not true," he smiled sympathetically, taking another step towards me. I wanted to step away, to resist his proximity, but there was only one way to step and I wasn't ready for that, not yet.

"A young man like yourself, I'm sure you have lots of choices. How about you tell me what happened today, and we'll see if we can find another way? There's always another way, son."

I doubted that very much, but he seemed so sincere that I found it hard to resent his intrusion. I wanted to explain it to him, I wanted to talk to him. So I decided to tell him. After all, there was no rush – it wasn't like the ground was going anywhere.

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I'm done here?

"I've been… I've been clean a year today," I told him. Three hundred and sixty five days. Three hundred and sixty five long, agonising days. They told me the pain would lessen once the drugs were out of my system, but they didn't tell me that the pain that would replace it would be worse. So much worse. Looking into their eyes every day, seeing the disappointment there, the wariness, like I would change back into some crazed addict at any moment.

"This is one helluva way to celebrate your anniversary."

I smiled despite myself.

"What's your name, son?"

"Daniel," I replied, before I had chance to decide whether or not I wanted to answer. I gave a mental shrug – it's not like it would make any difference.

"Nice to meet you, Daniel. My name's Greg, you remember?"

I stared at him. Nice to meet me? Was he kidding? He was holding out his hand like he wanted to shake. I stared at his extended limb until he let it drop.

"Do you have any family, Daniel?"

"None who want to know me." I said it matter of factly, without self pity.

"It's tough," he acknowledged. "Facing the consequences of our actions. But it does get easier, I promise."

"What would you know about it?" I snapped. I mean, just look at him! Up here on a rooftop playing Good Samaritan, in his fancy uniform, with his good job. Do you think anyone would employ me, an ex-junkie? Of course not. What could he possibly know about what I was going through?

"I know a little something," he said, and I watched, unimpressed, waiting for him to spout some textbook crap about the steps.

"I used to have a problem with drinking. It cost me a lot - my friends, my wife, my son."

My retort died in my throat. Whatever I'd been expecting him to say, it wasn't that.

"See, I knew that what I was doing was wrong," he continued. "But I thought it wasn't hurting anyone, that I was in control of it. And by the time I realised it was controlling me, I'd already driven them away."

It was like listening to him tell my story. I picked up where he left off.

"When I realised what I'd done," I told him, "I tried to take it back. I got help, I tried to stop."

"And you succeeded," he reminded me. "You got clean."

If that's how you measure success, then yeah, I succeeded.

"It's not like you hoped, huh?" He smiled sympathetically.

So if you're asking me
I want you to know
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reason to be missed.

"I wanted my life back. I thought... I thought if I was clean, everything would go back to how it was. Before."

And as I listened to the words come out of my mouth, I marvelled at my own naivety. He didn't mock me though, like I deserved. Like everyone else had. He was nodding, like it was me telling his story.

"For me, the worst part was knowing that no matter what I did, I couldn't change what I had done."

I looked at him, feeling the question forming on my lips, but I didn't voice it. I didn't want to interrupt him; I wanted, no, I needed to hear what he would say next.

"But it gets better, I promise. You just have to keep moving forward, one day at a time. I know right now it seems hard-"

"Impossible," I put in. Because deep down, I knew that there was nothing I could do, that everything I'd hoped for was just a deluded dream.

"But it's not, Daniel. Because no matter how it might seem, we're never totally alone."

His eyes shifted to look past me to the metropolis below and I followed his gaze, thinking silently of the disappointment in my mother's eyes when she found out what I was, of the disgust in her voice as she told me she was glad Dad wasn't alive to see how far I'd sunk, of the way my girlfriend slammed the door shut when she walked out of my life. I'd tried to phone, of course, once I was clean, but she refused to take my calls. Maybe she didn't believe me. Maybe she'd just moved on. Either way it didn't much matter. No amount of wishing could take back the last three years. I hoped they'd forget about them when I was gone, and remember me how I used to be.

Don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

"I promise you, you're not alone," the cop - Greg - told me. The sincerity of his voice touched me, and I met his eye. Unlike everyone else I'd spoken to in the last year, he didn't look away, or shuffle his feet in embarrassment.

He reminded me a little of my father, and I suddenly didn't want to disappoint him, to have him think badly of me. I wondered if I was hallucinating - if my mind had made him up to distract me from my suffering. Maybe I was already falling towards the ground and my mind was just playing with me.

I pushed my hand deep into my pocket, and closed my fingers around the small bag. If this wasn't real then I wasn't hurting anyone any more.

"What've you got there, Daniel?"

I hadn't intended to use it, not really, but it felt good, knowing it was there, just in case. No! It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, knew I didn't want to become that again. Yet how could I not?

"I spoke to a guy I used to know, before I came up here. I couldn't do it anymore - I'm not strong like you."

I waited for the disappointment to fill his face, but instead I saw - I don't know. Something else.

"You're wrong," he told me. "If you were weak, that wouldn't still be in your pocket. I can see how strong you are, how hard you're fighting."

"I-" The wind caught the back of my throat, snatching my thoughts away before I could vocalise them.

"It's real windy up here, Daniel. How about you take a step back from that edge?" I eyed the already short distance between us and shook my head. This was going to be my decision, and I wouldn't be robbed of it by a cheap trick.

"I'll tell you what," he said, reading my expression - I never had been good at hiding my thoughts - "how about I take a step back first, then you take a step? I'd hate for you to slip before we finish talking."

He seemed to take my silence for consent, and moved back. I hesitated, still undecided. Did I really care if I slipped? At least it would be one less decision to make.

Don't be afraid
I've taken my beating
I've shared what I've made
I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you

He waited expectantly, but an unwanted thought intruded in my mind. Was this really how I wanted them to remember me? A worthless junkie who had his last fix and threw himself off the top of a building? I squeezed the package in my pocket, picturing some cop going through my pockets, telling my family what he'd found. I didn't want that to be their last memory of me.

"What's on your mind, son?" the cop asked me softly. I met his eye again and my feet took a step towards him of their own accord.

"That's it," he encouraged, stretching his gloved hand out to me.

"Will you do something for me?" I asked, looking at his outstretched hand.

"Let's get down from here, and we'll do it together."

I shook my head, and pull the bag of white powder from my pocket.

"Please, get rid of this. I-" I struggled for the words, for a way to explain that it had already made too many decisions for me, that this last decision was mine alone to make. But I saw I didn't have to - he already understood. Of course he did. He of all people understood. Despite my earlier resentment, I was glad he was here.

"Sure. Just bring it over here."

I shook my head, and dropped it by my feet.

Forgetting all the hurt inside
You've learned to hide so well
Pretending someone else can come
And save my from myself
I can't be who you are

I turned, and with a quick step was back on the ledge.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Daniel, no!" I heard his voice ring in my ears as I took one last step, and plunged toward the cold, hard surface.

I can't be who you are.