Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint or any of it's characters. They won't let me. Coz I don't share.
Warnings: Rated T for some coarse language in places, and because there may be some violence later on
Other: This might take a little longer to write than my last fan fic (Leverage), since I'm working on a couple of other projects at the same time, but I'll try not to keep you waiting too long between chapters. Thanks to the wonderful SAR132-4 for agreeing to Beta Read for me - it takes a brave person to tackle my typos and spelling mistakes, and I can't thank her enough for her patience.
"Maybe you should take a holiday, relax a little. You've been pretty worked up the last few weeks."
The car rolled to a stop, and Ed answered his teammate with only a piercing stare.
"I'm just saying," Wordy pressed, "that it might do you some good to get away from it."
The boss had called patrol night; the shift seemed to have gone on for weeks, and the two cops were taking advantage of a quiet period to run an errand. Sophie had come down with a bad flu bug and implored her husband to pick up her medication. Ed, powerless to resist a damsel in distress – not to mention keen to avoid catching the virus – had relented. It had been going fine until Wordy had tried to offer the stressed team leader some advice.
"I'm fine," Ed ground out. He met Wordy's eye and the other man let it drop, sensing he would not convince his teammate. Ed swung the car door open before Wordy could argue further, leaving his weapons inside the vehicle as he stepped into the cool night air. Behind the team leader's retreating back, Wordy smiled ruefully and shook his head.
Ed pushed the chemist door open and stepped inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the poor lighting. He glanced across at the counter where only one person stood waiting to be served – not many people visited a pharmacist in this area at 10 o clock at night, he reflected grimly. Forcing his irritation at Wordy's interference aside, he headed for the painkiller aisle, scanning the shelves for Sophie's preferred brand.
The bell rang as another customer pushed through the doors. Ed felt a vague sense of unease as he took in the baseball cap topped with a hood, shadowing the man's face so that under the chemist's cheap lighting it was impossible to make out any of his features. He felt his heartbeat quicken in response to the perceived threat as he watched the subject's every move. A quick step backwards concealed him from sight behind a shelf stacked high with medicines, and his hand reached towards his headset. And that's when he realised what he was doing. He snapped himself out of it, shaking his head in disbelief. Maybe Wordy was right. He was overreacting, starting to see threats where there weren't any. Loads of kids dressed like that, it didn't mean they were all criminals. Hell, for all he knew, Clark might dress like that.
He resolved to give that holiday Sophie had been after some more thought when his shift was through. It would probably do them both some good. Much as he hated to admit it, the team would survive a week without him. Well, maybe just a long weekend…
He heard raised voices as he made to rejoin the queue, and saw the hoody at the counter. He stepped back behind the shelf, straining his ears to catch each word.
"Put it in the bag, now!"
He peered out, taking in the scene that was unfolding before him, and that was when the poor light reflected on metal. A gun. Ducking back into the aisle, his hand went to his headset once more, this time activating it as he spoke in hushed tones.
"Wordy, we've got a gunman. Young, male, looks like he's alone. Weapon is a handgun, do you copy?"
"Copy that," cut in Greg's voice over the radio. "Wordy, what's your location?"
"Baltries Pharmacy on Hart road," Wordy replied, quickly gathering his wits.
"All units to Hart road. Stealth approach, no sirens, let's not give him reason to panic. Ed, stay out of sight and keep us updated. We're on our way."
Ed opened his mouth to reply and the gunshot rang out loud and clear across the radio.
"Ed?" Greg hailed him urgently.
"Hostage has been hit, repeat, hostage has been shot," Ed whispered in response. "Greg, he's escalating, I've got to do something."
Greg felt his heart sink. The last thing he wanted was Ed putting himself in harm's way, unarmed. But he knew they had no choice. By the time the rest of team one arrived on the scene, it would be too late.
"Ok," he conceded. "But be careful. When he sees your uniform he's going to panic. He's probably pretty scared right now, so let him know that he can trust you. Show him that you're human. Remember, I'll be right here, so just slow him down."
"Copy," came Ed's taut response as he fought against the adrenaline his body was pumping into his system. He took a breath to steady his nerves, reminding himself that he could not calm the subject if he himself was hyped up. Slowly, and with his hands clearly in view by his sides, he stepped out from behind the shelf.
"Hey," he announced his presence. The gunman spun to face the cop, eyes wide as saucers, and grabbed a nearby hostage. He pulled the unresisting doctor in front of him, holding his gun to the man's temple. Fear radiated from the hostage taker, who Ed now noted could not be much more than 20. Ed raised his hands in response.
"Just take it easy," he intoned calmly.
"Where did you come from?" the gunman demanded wildly, his eyes scanning the shadows for other concealed cops.
"I didn't come for you," Ed assured him. "My wife's sick, I came to pick up her medicine. I've got the prescription right here, see?" Keeping one hand raised, he reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled prescription.
"You're doing good Eddie," Greg encouraged him through his radio.
"I don't know what's going on here," Ed continued, "but I know you didn't mean for the gun to go off. So let me help you."
The kid shoved the hostage away and pointed his gun at Ed. That was ok, as long as the gunman was focused on him, Ed was confident he could keep him from escalating further.
"Take your radio off," he demanded.
Ed hesitated for a moment, aware that handing over the device could compromise his team – and leave him isolated from them – but he had no choice. With a slow nod he raised one hand to the headset, keeping the other perfectly still.
"Ok, I'm taking it off." Slowly he pulled it from his head and held it out. The gunman snatched it from him, and gave it a brief glance before tossing it aside, where it collided with the wall and clattered to the floor. His gun never left Ed, and now he squared up to the cop.
"Get down on your knees," he ordered, emboldened by his easy victory.
"Ok," Ed assented, for the first time a note of fear creeping into his voice. He knew he had to take back control of the negotiation before it reached a bloody conclusion. He forced his face to remain impassive as he groped for something to say. He had been in situations like this many times before; he prayed he would live long enough to work out how to stop getting into them. Keeping his palms level with his shoulders, he lowered himself slowly onto his knees, warily eyeing the gun that remained level with his head throughout. He forced himself to look past the barrel of the weapon to its owner.
"You must be going through a rough time," he said, "to make you come in here, with a gun. But you know what, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter why you did it. What matters is the choice you make right now. And the only smart thing you can do is put the gun down. Put the gun down and we'll walk out of here together."
The youth was silent for a moment, and Ed watched indecision flicker across his eyes.
"Stay there – don't move," the subject warned him with a glance at the door.
"I'm staying right here," Ed assured him calmly.
The boy held the gun at arm's length and kept it pointed at the cop, but the extended limb began to waver. Ed watched him silently, breathing slowly and keeping his face calm. He didn't want the subject to overreact to a glance or twitch – it would take him only a split second of panic to squeeze the trigger, and at this distance he couldn't miss. Fear radiated from the hooded youth as he backed away, his eyes flicking amongst the hostages and back to the cop. He reached the exit and slipped outside into the night. Before the door had closed, Ed's hands were down and he hurried across the shop floor, crouching beside the injured man.
"You're gonna be fine buddy. Help's on its way."