Save Your Cold Sympathy
Summary: "Who's hurting you, Spike?" something's wrong with Spike and has been for a while, the team have been worried but nobody has said anything. After he and Greg are held hostage, his problems only worsen. It's only after he disappears that the team find out what truly terrible things have been happening. Will the team be able to help him or will he be lost to cold sympathy.
Disclaimer: I don't own any recognisable names, nor will I ever. I own the plot and unrecognisable names. I am making no profit from this work other than the warm happiness I receive with reviews. I do, to a degree, own the security feature described in this story. I've taken bits and pieces from real security features from office buildings and put them into this one.
Warnings: Strong language, mentions of murder, aggressive actions towards Spike, domestic abuse, mental illness, and drug use (non-illegal ones I think). I suggest that if you find any of the above disturbing or triggering, than please turn away from this story. It is not my intention to anger or harm anyone with any of my writings. I hope that I have written the issues above in a realistic manner but not too realistic that it will be too hard to read. Longest warning I've ever written.
A/N: this story is darker than my first Flashpoint story, to me anyway. As mentioned above, I'm dealing with a lot of adult themes that those of a sensitive nature may find disturbing. The original plot of this story was different before writing began, in fact this story is a combination of two separate stories I had planned. Please let me know if anyone is finding this too disturbing or if there is anything you wish me to look at again. I say again, it is not my intention to anger or harm anyone.
Oh and Leah isn't in this story. I've tried and failed at writing her, so for the benefit of her fans and toher character she hasn't happened yet. Sorry to Leah fans.
Enough of me covering my arse, there's a story here somewhere, oh there it is. Enjoy.
-Chapter One-
Breathing was becoming harder and harder with every blow to his chest. His eyes were burning with the pressure of the tears trying to leak from them.
"Have you seen Mike?" the woman wept into the man's shirt, "I was with him… we were talking an…and…and now he's gone. I need to find him, please; they want to take him away from me. They've been telling him lies and I'm trying to protect him."
"We'll find him."
"Everyone's been saying that, and we haven't found him. He's here, somewhere, cold, drugged, and alone!" he yelled at the man in front of him, "The temperature's still dropping, the time frame of finding him alive is dropping and I don't want to waste any more of that time!"
"I've found him!" she heard a voice yell. She began to run, almost falling as her feet landed on a discarded book.
"Breathe, please breathe?"
Thursday 19th
It was drawing to the end of a long week for the team, one filled with hostages and hostage takers, annoyed teenagers with un-loaded guns, and angry mothers out for revenge against the man abusing their daughters.
When she had a week like this, one that would stress both the body and the mind, Jules enjoyed taking the long route from her home into work. It helped not only to kill time before being due in but it was a chance to think. Which part of the living room was she going to paint first, was she going to stick with the original colour she had chosen, or was she going to change her mind again. And the question that was driving her hazy at this time was 'Who would want to hurt one of the kindest people she knew?'
The trivial matters of her house meant little when it came to the welfare of her friends, and if she knew there was something wrong with them and did nothing to help, then she would never be able to forgive herself.
She first noticed the bruises when working out in the gym alone with him before the others had arrived; She was fighting against the swinging punching bag, which was trying to win, while he ran several miles on the treadmill. For whatever reason he tripped and wasn't able to steady himself resulting in him falling to the floor. She automatically raced to his side leaving the swinging bag of ball bearings forgotten behind her.
When she reached him he had recovered somewhat from the fall, his legs were crossed beneath him at the foot of the treadmill, eyes closed, his head bowed as he tried to get his stuttering breathing back under control, with one of his hands against his chest while his other lay limp in his lap. His upper body was swaying like a leaf in the wind as he breathed in and out in short ragged gasps.
Her lips had just parted to speak when she noticed them; horrible brown marks decorated his arms around his wrists, near his elbows deep scratches were engraved in patterns of four, and at the crook of his neck a cut beginning to scab was visible under the collar of his shirt.
She thought that he was wearing the long sleeves because of the Canadian winter, with the temperature dropping each night of the week, the thought hadn't crossed her mind that he was hiding something from them.
When he realised what had caught her attention, he awkwardly pulled his sleeves down to hide the ugly blemishes from her view, holding them in the palms of his hands so they would not move. "It's nothing," he quickly told her as he struggled to stand on unsteady feet. As the rush of vertigo wind passed his head, he'd have surely fallen again if it had not have been for Jules' steadying hands on his arms.
"Doesn't look like nothing," she replied, her words sounding ruder than she had intended them to be. Her eyes travelled to the collar of his shirt, pulling it down slightly she saw the full image of the marks on his chest.
"Please, don't tell the others," he begged, his voice soft and quivering, as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. To Jules he sounded like a child who, after being caught misbehaving, was pleading not to be punished by their mother.
"I promise," she said nodding her head. She was rewarded with a smile as he turned and walked away, glancing back at her with every few steps before disappearing into the male locker room.
She regretted saying that. She thought about asking the others if they had seen any changes in their friend, had they too noticed the bruises, even if it was just to find out how long it had been going on for, but she was a person of her word; she'd keep it a secret as he had asked her.
In the meantime, she would continue to come up with reasons, explanations, as to why and how he could have gotten those bruises, those wounds. She had narrowed down her thoughts into three questions:
Had his lack of sleep been making him clumsy? She knew he had been having trouble sleeping, ever since Lew, it would account for the dark bags under his eyes.
Had he been hurting himself? She was a trained professional; she'd be able to see the signs of self-harm, there were none.
Was someone hurting him? She couldn't prove that. From what she knew about his family they were dedicated to keeping him safe, they wouldn't harm him it was against their nature.
Parking in her usual spot, and stepping out of the car, she spotted the familiar red car parked three spaces away from her. He was early again.
"Hey, Winnie," she smiled at the dispatcher as she passed the desk.
"He's early again," Winnie noted, looking at the man in question, "He was here before I arrived. Is he okay?"
Jules looked over at the man in the briefing room. He looked like he was reading but his eyes weren't traveling across the page as she would expect to see. He always read when he had the chance, if it wasn't some technical book it was a novel or history book. When she had seen him read in the past every now and then he would smile to himself or show some emotion, she saw nothing like that now.
"How long has he been here?" she asked, noticing him wince as he took a large intake of breath.
"I can't even tell if he's been home."
"I'll see you later," she said walking towards her changing room. Before she reached her destination, she almost bumped right into Greg as he exited the men's changing rooms, "Sarge, could I have a word?"
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\
"How well do you know the shooter?" Wordy asked of the two men before him.
The team had spent the morning at HQ working through various strategies for a drug bust they would be helping on in the following week. They then went on patrol, they were half an hour in when they heard Winnie's shout of 'Team One Hot Call'.
He and Spike arrived at White's Family Law Firm first and were speaking with two of the security guards, one of whom had been injured, as they awaited the arrival of the rest of the team. They had learnt that they were dealing with a forty-something ex-employee named Malcolm Hillman who was currently running around the building with a loaded gun possible targeting a Ben White who he had been seen arguing with earlier in the day.
"I don't know what's gotten into Mal's head," the youngest of the two said as the power-medic placed another wad of gauzes on his wounded leg. "I stared working here a few weeks before his wife died. He was always so upbeat. His wife used to work here too before, well you know, he killed her-"
"We don't know that for sure boy," the older said with a warning tone. "He was sure having a go at Ben though. Don't know what sort of beef he has against the man. We may have found out if this one didn't try to be a hero. What were ya thinking you fool, trying to take a gun from a trained killer. You think I want to handle another rookie, rookie?"
"Sorry, boss," the younger said sheepish, looking away from the elder eyes to hide the failure displayed clearly on his face.
"Would you know how many people are still in the building?" Wordy asked, gaining back the attention of the two guards. "Please, it'll help us to know."
"Ten or fifth-teen. Some work from home, some are out because of the weather, and some are always in the field and only come in to file paper work or for court cases. You'd need to speak with Howard Cope, Samantha Dams, Milo Taylor, and Richard Ullman. They're the heads of eac… arghh," the younger man's words were cut of as the medic applied pressure to the wound.
"Sorry," the medic apologised, "flesh wounds bleed a lot and hurt a whole lot too."
The older continued form were the younger left off, "The 'heads' of each section do a count at the start of each day. Comes in handy with fires, bomb threats, you know that sorta stuff." Pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it over to Wordy he continued, "I always keep a list of their numbers in case," he said with a hint of satisfied glee.
"Thank you, hope you have a speedy recovery sir," Spike said, directing the last part to the wounded guard.
The two SRU members turned and walked towards the rest of the team who had arrived while they were speaking. Looking up Spike noticed the building for the first time. The buildings name had been bugging him since he first heard the call out and now he knew why. The building's exterior, although now covered in blissfully white snow, rang a lot of bells in his head.
"I'll be right back," Spike said excusing himself before he and Wordy had reached the others, already turning back and running to the two guards who had now been loaded into the waiting ambulance. Before reaching them he began asking, "This building am I right in saying that it has the 'Scot Lookout' system?" he asked pointing both hands towards the building.
"Not in its entirety, the building new so things are still being installed," the older guard said, pausing in his action of closing the ambulance doors. "Worked with this company since it began never needed a computer to guard it in the past."
"What features do you have?" Spike asked urgently.
"The gas is linked into the sprinklers and most of the doors will be permanently locked until the pin is entered." The man looked over his shoulder to his friend whose head was thrown back in pain, "Do you mind, we've gotta move."
"No, go, go and thank you again. Drive safe." he smiled at them, like a child with a new toy. "Guys, we may have a tiny problem," he said to the air looking at the sky as he jogged over to the team. "This building has a security feature called 'Scot Lookout', I was reading about it in a journal, developed in china and since banned in china because of the side effects…"
"Side effects?" Sam interrupted, looking at Spike seriously as he reached them.
"After all the floors are under lock down, doors and windows bolted, and air vents closed off, Nitrous oxide…"
"Laymen terms please," Wordy all but ordered the man.
"Yea sorry, Nitrous oxide which to the less scientific speaker would be laughing gas, is realised into the air though the sprinkler system for, strangely, seven point nine minutes and then the building is automatically unlocked so emergency services can enter. The side effects' the gas leaves behind in the body is the reason…"
"Spike, fast-forward," Greg said spinning his hand around in a circle in the air.
"Large doses of anything can be dangerous, in this case some developed serious lung problems others never woke up, and the developers developed problems similar including; slower muscle reactions, damage to the brain, and dysfunctions of internal organs, blah, blah, blah. Be sure you've got gas masks' with you, if we're still in there when it's released they'll be needed."
"How did you know this building had the looker?" Ed asked.
"The Scot Lookout, and I read it in a journal you know those things with words," Spike said, stifling a laugh. "This building is one of the only ones this side of crazy town that has it. From what I can gather, only the Nitrous oxide and the doors are in working order. It may make it easier to control the situation or ten times harder."
Greg looked up, plan formulating in his mind, "Spike, you and I will set up a command post in the security room. Our subject Malcolm Hillman worked in this building before he was fired so he may have come prepared for this situation. Spike you think you can get us more time on the gas problem?"
"Anything is hack-able Boss," Spike joked already running towards the truck to fetch what he'd need.
End of Chapter
SO what do you think. Most of the story is still being written but I have most of the beginning ready. Just checks to be made and then day one's down.
Also thank you to everyone who reviewed To Lose, To Save. I loved each and every one of your reviews and still read them to make me happy and spur me on to write more.
Please review, they help.
