A/N: Finally got this thing started, which is always the hardest part. It's kind of like how you need more force to overcome static friction than kinetic friction. And then there's Newton's Law of Inertia...I love how the laws of physics so often apply to life in general. Anyway, if you haven't read Crossing the Divide yet, you should. Otherwise you'll be proceeding at the risk of getting lost almost immediately.

For those who've read Crossing the Divide, thanks for sticking with me for the next leg of this little journey. Hope everyone enjoys the ride.

The disclaimer I never remember to add..: I don't own Flashpoint or Miss Congeniality.

"You ready to switch off, Mrs. Braddock?" Sam knew Jules loved sitting in the driver's seat, but she'd already been driving for four hours. They had another two to go, and then they had at least five hours' worth of hiking to do before they reached the camping ground they'd reserved for that night.

"Nope, I'm fine." Jules grinned despite her refusal because she liked the sound of her new last name. In the less than twenty-four hours since the wedding, the novelty of thinking of herself as Mrs. Sam Braddock hadn't worn off, yet. Euphoria mixed with excitement to hit the trails of Killarney Provincial Park made for a combination that resulted in seemingly boundless energy.

"You didn't get much sleep last night," Sam reminded her.

She laughed, thinking he sounded awfully cocky about that. "Well, neither did you, Buddy!"

"Yeah, but I got to take a nap in the car, so…"

Jules rolled her eyes and huffed for good measure before capitulating. "Okay, fine. You can take over at the next rest stop."

Sam relaxed back into the passenger seat. "Thank you. Mrs. Braddock," he added just to see the predictable return of her grin. He knew she liked hearing it as much as he liked the fact that she now shared his last name. "So…we'll be working together again."

"Sarge never ceases to amaze me," Jules remarked in response. She'd yet to actually go over the business plan Greg had put together for the team's new business venture in-depth, but she knew he wouldn't have pulled them all into it if it wasn't sound. "Feels weird to not be a cop anymore, though."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Still, at least we get to work together doing what we both love doing. And be married while we're doing it." Not too long ago, the position they now found themselves in had seemed an impossibility. So much so, that Jules had transferred to the Guns & Gangs division, forcing Team One to replace her. Unfortunately, her replacement had gotten caught in the crossfire when an old case had come back to haunt the team. Sam forced himself to bank down the guilt he felt for not reining Andrea in and preventing her from accidentally trigging the bomb that killed her. Instead, he decided to go over the route he and Jules had planned ahead of time.

"Mm-hmm," Jules agreed. She couldn't stop her mind from straying into practical matters, even if she was happy to leave Guns 'n Gangs. For example, Greg hadn't been particularly forthcoming about where the funding for Peace Keepers Inc. was coming from and it would take a lot more than one man's life savings to bankroll the kind of work they did. More specifically, more than one cop's life savings.

Another thing on her mind was her house. She had bullet holes to fill-in in the walls of the master bedroom after their honeymoon ended. And bullet-riddled furniture to replace. She didn't mind that, though, because Natalie was bullet-free and family mattered more than things. She was actually looking forward to the project. A new shade of paint wouldn't hurt while she was at it…

"…so then, when Raf offered to switch out his wedding gift with a monkey, I told him it had to be a chimp or no dice…"

Jules blinked, flicking a glance Sam's way out of the corner of her eye. "Sam…what the hell are you talking about?"

"Just seeing if you were still listening to me."

"Well, I wasn't," she readily admitted. "I was just thinking about…things."

"Anything that's gonna make a difference to these next two weeks?"

"Nope."

"So nothing important, then," Sam resolved, gently tugging her right hand off the wheel so he could kiss the back of it.

She chuckled before agreeing, "No, nothing important. So what were you really talking about?"

"I was just saying, if you're tired, we can cut down on the detours and make the camping site about an hour and a half early…"

"You trying to wimp out on me, now? Because if anybody's not gonna make it the whole way it's you…but don't worry, I won't tell the guys." She smirked as she reclaimed her hand and refastened her grip on the steering wheel.

"Ha-ha…funny. Truck stop up ahead. We can stop for lunch while we're switching over."

"That's a hell of a long switch-over, but okay."


"Soph…Sophie? Would you talk to me, please?" Ed pleaded with his silently fuming wife as she straightened up the living room.

"Oh, now you want to talk? What makes now better than before you decided you were going to up and quit your job to go off on some lark of a business venture? Seriously, Ed, we made a deal when you went back to the SRU after Izzy was born and now you're reneging on it without even talking to me about it. So, no, Ed! I'm not talking to you." She let out a loud, frustrated huff as she brushed past him to enter the kitchen.

"Sophie, stop a sec, will you? If you'd just listen to me…" He'd been married long enough to know better than to point out the fact that she'd already given in to his previous request.

"I heard you loud and clear," she declared as she scanned the pantry in search of lunch for their almost-4-year-old daughter." You're quitting your job and getting onboard with some venture Greg thought up. Look, don't get me wrong, I love Greg. I really do, he's a great guy, but did you stop for even one second to think about how a career change would affect your family? I'm sure this new company is going to take up as much of your time as the SRU did before Izzy was born. Maybe more. And don't even get me started on money. How much are you talking about putting into it and when are we supposed to see the ROI?"

"Money's not an issue. Greg's got the start-up capital covered," Ed assured her, reaching for her in the hopes that she was somewhat mollified by that bit of reassurance.

She deftly spun away from him to continue her search in the freezer. "Fine. Say Greg's got the financial side of things all under control. You'll never be home. I have work to do, too…how's that supposed to work?" When you got to the heart of the matter, what upset her more than the unilateral decision her husbands had taken it upon himself to commit to, was the guaranteed loss of the partnership she'd gotten to enjoy having as part of her marriage the last few years.

"Soph…I promise you, I'm not gonna disappear on you." He reached past her and pulled out a package of chicken fingers, holding them up as a suggestion, which she took without a word of encouragement. That was okay by him because actions mattered as much as words did and at least she'd accepted his help. "Greg seems pretty big on accommodating people, so I'm sure we can work something out. Come on. I swear to you, I know where my priorities are."

She leveled him with a long, steady stare, which he met unflinchingly, before relented with a quietly spoken, "I'm gonna hold you to that. Do me a favor and get Izzy up from her nap before you leave?"

Marital crisis averted, he headed upstairs to handle her request. "Let's go, Isabelle! Time to get up!"


"Okay, well, you guys be safe. Take lots of pictures!" Natalie added hurriedly before saying goodbye to her brother and setting her cell phone on the side table. She resettled herself on the couch, feet propped up on Spike's lap, while she updated him. "Sam and Jules are right on schedule. A couple more hours and they'll be at Killarney." Her brother had decided to check in while he had reception since the odds of finding (or even wanting to bother finding) a signal once they hit the trails were slim to none.

"Good," Spike remarked. "You know, I was thinking—"

"Do you think maybe we could—" Natalie started at the same time.

"You go," Spike insisted with a faux-gallant sweep of his hand that resulted in his arm resting on the back of the couch, anchoring his upper body in place so that he was turned to face her.

"Well, I was thinking…I'm so tired of being this damsel in distress who needs saving..."

"Nat…"Spike started to interrupt, thinking it was a self-esteem issue or that she blamed herself for anything that had happened during the Emily Ames fiasco. She couldn't control the actions of other people.

"No, Spike, let me finish. My dad sheltered me. Like really sheltered me. Growing up, I didn't date because I knew if I asked to go out, he'd think of something more productive to do or, worse, embarrass me by giving any guy who came to my front door the riot act. I guess it was his way of coddling me as some form of atonement for what happened to my sister." That was how she saw it now that she was older and somewhat wiser. When she was younger, she'd seen her father's strict ways as some kind of punishment for being alive when Jen was dead. "Anyway, as soon as I was able to, I got the hell out of dodge. Just spread my wings and soared, you know? At least, it felt like I soared…even when I faltered." She flushed, thinking about how her 'zest' for life often landed her in hot water because she wasn't seasoned enough to slow down and think to herself, 'Is this really a good idea?' Spike smiled slightly, as if to remind her she'd moved beyond that phase, and she returned his smile in acknowledgement. "I've learned how to be a big girl the hard way, but I want to learn how to shoot a gun the easy way. I want you to teach me."

And gone was the encouraging smile. "Nat, I don't think that's such a good idea." The idea of his girlfriend walking around thinking she could handle a gun and the possible repercussions of using that gun quite frankly terrified him. He was also afraid she'd shoot herself by accident. Or him.

"I'm tired of being a victim, though! I want to be able to protect myself."

"Yeah, I get that, but I don't think you're looking at this from the right angle here. You had a close call and you're feeling insecure and maybe like you…"

"Michelangelo, stop profiling me."

He grimaced. She only used his proper name when she was ticked at him, when she was trying to be cute, or when they were in bed. In the event of the first case, he had a very narrow window of opportunity keep himself out of the doghouse. "Look, I just don't like the idea of you walking around with a gun. But! If you want to work on some self-defense techniques, I could show you a few moves every woman ought to know."

"I already know about SING," Natalie huffed.

Spike stared at her blank-faced. "Come again?"

"SING…You know, solar plexus, instep, nose, groin?"

"Where did you…?"

"Have you not seen Miss Congeniality? Wow, Spike, really? A cop movie you haven't seen?"

"It's about a freaking beauty pageant!" Spike defended himself.

"Yeah…can you say movie night?"

"Whatever…it's a movie, so they probably didn't show it right," he insisted, steering the topic back on course. "So how about it? I teach you a few useful moves, and you think about dropping the gun thing?"

"Deal. I'll think about it." They shook on it. "We're still watching Miss Congeniality, tonight, though…"


"Raf, hey," Greg said, surprise evident on his face at the unexpected visit. "Come on in." He stood aside, holding the door open so the younger man could enter the house.

"Hey, Sarge, sorry for just dropping by like this…"

"No, no, it's fine, what's going on?" Greg asked as he closed the door. He folded his arms across his chest as he gave Raf his undivided attention. Marina was at work and Dean was out with Clark and some other friends, so all he'd been about to do was toss a couple of steaks on the grill for himself, Ed, and Wordy, who were coming to go over training plans and things of that nature for Peace Keepers Inc.

"I know I said I was totally onboard with Peace Keepers Inc and all, but…"

"But what? What happened?" Greg indicated with a nod that he wanted to sit down in the living room to continue the discussion. The look on his face indicated that he wasn't about to let his friend slip away easily.

Raf raised a hand, an unspoken bid for peace in response to the unspoken challenge. "My grandfather died."

"My condolences, but, uh…Raf, what does this have to do with…?"

"I'm getting to that. See, we were real close. He took me in after my Dad was sent to prison. Anyway, he owned this real sweet little jazz club called The Cat. It's—"

"Downtown, yeah, I've been there once or twice. Nice joint."

"Yeah. Well he left it to me. Man, I can't even begin to tell you what that place means to me. Running that place would be like a dream." His voice took on a faraway quality as he thought about how his grandfather had encouraged him to channel all his hurt and pain into his music instead of running the streets getting into trouble and maybe eventually joining his father in prison.

Greg could tell from the look on Raf's face that the battle had been lost before he'd even opened the front door. "Well, I guess there's nothing more to say, is there? Congratulations, Raf. And good luck. I hope things work out well for you."

"Thanks. And hey, don't be a stranger, okay? You already told me you know where it is…"

"You kidding me? Of course I've got to see what you do with the place."

"I'm just gonna keep its class intact," Raf responded humbly, offering his hand as he stood. "I just wanted to let you know in person. And, hey, good luck to you, as well."

"Thanks." Greg walked Raf to the door, then watched him nod to Ed in passing as the other man approached the house.

Ed tilted his head to the side questioningly as he walked past Greg. "What's up with Raf?" he asked his question on his way to the kitchen.

Greg fell into step behind him, and accepted the soda Ed pulled out of the fridge and offered him. "He's not coming with us, Eddy. Apparently, his grandfather died and left him this club…"

"The Cat," Ed said with a nod, as he inspected the steaks that were marinating in the fridge, reminding Greg that the two men had some history, even if Ed hadn't always known the whole story.

"Yeah. Well. I think he's jumping that with both feet, so…"

"Well, good for him. He will be missed."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go fire up the grill."

"You do that. Hey, I'm feeling like corn on the cob, today…"

"Check the crisper," Greg said on his way outside.

"Oh, hey, Wordy's running late because he's out paying Mr. Mom!" Ed hollered after him.

Once their food was grilled to their liking, the two long-time friends settled themselves into lawn chairs in the backyard to talk business. How they would recruit viable employees, the process they would put in place for training…basically the day-to-day operations that they would later run by the others.

"So…the money."

"The money. I didn't want to talk about it in front of Sam."

His interest caught, Ed leaned in a little. "Yeah? Go on…"

"A good chunk of the money's coming from government grants endorsed by…"

"Sam's father," Ed concluded, more than a little surprised.


They had been travelling only half an hour, with a still-triumphant Sam behind the wheel, when someone dashed out of the woods into the middle of the street. Keeping his cool, Sam smoothly brought the jeep to a stop as he took in the woman's appearance. "She doesn't look like a camper," he muttered. It was the first and, to his thinking, the most logical explanation for her sudden appearance in the middle of nowhere. There was no sign of a car and the nearest city, which she looked more appropriately dressed for in her loose-fitting trousers and blouse, was hours away. The only thing about her he understood was the fear in her eyes as she ran up to his window, and the blood staining her hands and cheeks.

She started begging for help before Sam could even get his window down. "Please, my son, please! You have to help him, please!"

"Okay, calm down. I need you to tell me what happened. Where is he?"

"The helicopter went down, I don't…I fell asleep and when I woke up we were alone and going down. I don't know what happened, but, please, you have to come. Please! He's pinned, I can't move him!"

As the woman spoke, Jules pulled out her cell phone to call nine-one-one and saw she had no signal. "Is he conscious?"

"In and out. Please, I can't…"

"We're going to help you," Sam assured her. "Jules, you want to go get help and I'll—"

"No," Jules cut in. "I don't even know where you're going. I'll go with you and if the radio on the plane isn't working, I'll go back. And a second pair of hands couldn't hurt," she added. What she didn't say was that the woman's story sounded off. Where was the pilot? Had there been other passengers on the plane? There were so many other things she was wondering that there was no way in hell she was letting Sam traipse off into the wilderness on his own.

He nodded to show he understood her real motivations. Neither of them could ignore the mother's pleas, though, despite their reservations. "Hang on, let me pull over onto the side of the road," he said before rolling his window back up. "What do you think?" he asked Jules as he did what he said he was going to do.

"She's obviously scared, but there's no way they're alone in those woods. The pilot must have bailed while she was sleeping. She didn't mention alarms or warnings…But how long could she have slept through an unpiloted flight?" She was twisting around to dump out one of their carefully packed backpacks so they could move faster. All the food would slow them down when all they needed at the present were medical supplies and water. Because firearms were prohibited from the park, they hadn't bothered with one. She did, however, include a flare gun and a hunting knife just in case.

"Okay, so we'll proceed with caution," Sam said as he got out of the car.

A/A/N: Thanks to SYuuri for her suggestion on how to phase out Raf. I was this close to using Molly_Lyn's suggestion of doing things the Flashpoint way and just forgetting he existed unless I needed him. I love #TheFlashpointPack...hehehe.