I don't own the Flashpoint series or characters, and I make no representations or demands to those rights. But I do own the storyline.
First time writing FanFic, and recently hooked on the series. I hope you like it! Comments are always welcome!
St. Crispin's Day
Jules and Sam arose from restaurant table.
"I need to take a moment." Jules said, as she turned towards the ladies room.
"Sure." Same replied. "I'll get the car".
Jules nodded as she headed for the ladies room, still in a daze from the dinner conversation. She and Sam had been enjoying their meal, quietly celebrating the approval they received for their relationship from the SRU and upper management. During the meal, Sam had surprised her by asking her to marry him. Speechless, Jules was unable to give an answer immediately.
"Jules? Did you hear me?" Sam asked, a worried expression on his face.
Jules stared at Sam in shock. The question was so unexpected. They had been so focused on getting through the most recent hot call, Jules' recovery from the wound she took at the bio lab, and worrying about who would have to leave Team One if they couldn't get approval for their relationship. Talk about marriage was the furthest thing from their mind. Or so she thought.
"Sam… this is all so sudden." Jules replied after finding her voice. "We should talk about this."
Sam looked down at the table, crestfallen. "Forget it." He said.
Jules reached out to Sam and took his hand in hers. "Sam, that wasn't a 'No'. I just can't give an answer right now. It's so sudden. Can I have some time to think about it?"
Sam looked at Jules, hope sparking in his eyes. "Sure Jules. Take your time. But know that I am serious about this. I will wait for your answer, but please, don't take too long!"
Jules smiled gently at him. He took her breath away with his boyish good looks. They finished their meal, chatting quietly about their plans for the rest of the weekend. It was rare for them to get an entire weekend off, and they wanted to make the most of the down time.
"Excuse me". A woman's voice broke through Jules' reverie. Jules stepped aside and allowed the woman to approach the sink to wash her hands. Jules finished drying her hands and headed for the restaurant exit.
Jules emerged from the restaurant and paused on the sidewalk, looking for Sam. The evening was clear, with crisp October air. Not seeing Sam, Jules turned towards the parking lot. She saw the car, still in the space they had parked it in, but it wasn't running and she couldn't see Sam.
"Sam?" she called as she approached the car. He wasn't in the front seat, so she assumed that perhaps he had returned to the restaurant to use the men's room. She turned to look towards the restaurant to watch for him, when someone grabbed her from behind. A cloth was placed over her face, and she could smell something sweet on the cloth just before she lost consciousness.
Awareness of the world returned slowly. Sam had a pounding headache, probably from getting hit over the head while on the way to retrieve the car from the parking lot. He carefully opened his eyes, trying to identify where he was. His hands were bound behind his back with what felt like zip ties. He was crammed into a tight space. A trunk? He thought. His suspicions were confirmed when the car hit a bump in the road and he was thrown against the roof of the trunk. There was a pale glow of light from the safety release on the trunk lid, but there was no way for him to reach the release to open the trunk.
Sam carefully felt around behind him, as well as he could with his hands bound. Aside from the spare tire, the trunk was empty. He checked his back pocket, where he usually kept a small knife for emergencies. The knife was gone. The car hit another bump, and Sam groaned when his head bounced against the roof of the trunk.
Jules! He thought frantically. She won't know what happened to me. I hope she's all right. He thought about Jules and knew what she would do once she realized Sam was missing. She would contact the SRU, and the team would start working on locating him.
Sam realized the car had come to a stop, but the engine was still running. Suddenly, the trunk lid opened, and Sam was blinded by a bright light shining down from a parking lot floodlight. He briefly made out a dark silhouette standing over him. Then a cloth was held over his mouth and nose, and he sank back into oblivion.
"Are you awake?"
The voice came out of the darkness. Sam groaned softly. His head ached, and his arms were cramping from being bound behind him. He was lying on his side on what felt like hard-packed dirt or concrete. A boot prodded him gently in the stomach.
"I said – are…you…awake?"
The boot returned, this time less gently, forcing the air out of Sam's lungs and bringing him to full awareness.
"Yes" Sam replied, coughing and gasping from the blow. He fought for breath and opened his eyes to get his bearings. He saw nothing but darkness and realized he had been blindfolded.
"Yes" he coughed again, a little louder this time. He struggled to sit up.
"Good" the male voice said gruffly. A hand grabbed him by the back of the neck. "Water", the voice said, holding a cup to his lips. Sam drank carefully, his headache increased two-fold now that he was sitting up.
"I'm sure you have the mother of all headaches." The voice said. The hand left Sam's neck, and he heard the man moving away from him.
"As long as you behave, your headache should be the worst of what you get. But if you don't behave and follow directions, I can't guarantee your continued good health."
"What do you want?" Sam asked. His captor paused in his pacing. Sam sensed that he turned to face his captive before answering.
"What I want is for you to behave. That means not causing me any trouble, no matter what you see or hear. If you misbehave, then you'll be punished." The footsteps came closer. Sam tensed, sensing his captor was leaning down towards him. "You won't like the punishment, I assure you. It will be suitable to your crime."
"Crime?" Sam asked, trying to make sense of what his captor was saying. His head was still pounding, and he had a horrible taste in his mouth, despite the water. "What crime?"
Sam was cuffed on the side of head, hard enough to cause him to fall over on to his side. Then he was grabbed roughly, and dragged back to a sitting position. Nausea struck him in a wave.
"Rule number 1: You don't get to ask the questions." His captor said in a quiet but dangerous voice. "I know what you do for a living. So remember this – you aren't with your team. You aren't on a hot call. There's no Sierra One to watch your back." Sierra One! Sam thought. This man knows how the Team works!
"When I want you to know something, I will tell you" the man stated. Releasing Sam and walking away from him. Sam heard a door close, and footsteps receding up wooden stairs. He sat in the darkness, waiting for his head to stop pounding, and trying to think up a strategy to escape.