Leap
Fandom: Flashpoint
Pairing: Sam/Jules
Category: Friendship, General
Rating: K
ONE-SHOT
Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to, I don't own Flashpoint, and all characters remain property of the show's wonderful scriptwriters. All original characters and plots are mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Synopsis: It was that he hated doing this… well, okay. He did. Spoilers for 4x01 "Personal Effects"
Author's Note: After watching the preview and spying a great JAM moment, I just wanted to write my own explanation for that moment. I have no idea what's gonna happen in 4x01, so this is just my interpretation of the JAM scene, just for fun. Don't read if you haven't already watched the preview, or if you don't want to be spoilt.
The only way in was through the roof.
They couldn't go in through the door because that's the way the subject was expecting them and they needed the element of surprise. They couldn't risk a window entry because it was a 50-storey drop if they made one wrong move.
Jules, the lightest and best rappeller on the team, had voted for a roof entry. Sarge, Spike and Wordy had agreed without hesitation. All except him.
He didn't think they picked up on his lack of enthusiasm, probably mistaking his silence for consent.
In reality, he was praying that it wouldn't come down to him. But hoping was useless, since Spike was in the command van with Sarge, and Wordy, with his shaking hands, wasn't considered medically fit to be engaging in such stunts. And with Ed out of commission… that left Jules. And him.
So as he buckled up and strapped himself into the harness that was to hold both him and Jules, he silently cursed the fate that made him the only eligible member of the team for this particular job.
It was that he hated doing this… well, okay. He did.
But what he never told anyone was that his dislike for rappelling disguised a fear of heights. A cousin had nearly pushed him off a 30th storey window by accident when they were both looking at stars, and that three-second memory of flailing arms and struggling to regain his precarious balance on the stool still stuck with him.
He met Jules' eyes as she finished buckling up, and without a word, she reached out and squeezed his hand. She didn't know; he was sure he never told her. But somehow she knew him well enough to detect hesitation and a slight fear and the simple gesture was her way of comforting him.
He applied pressure to her tiny hand in grateful response, and rearranged the rifle that was hoisted to his shoulder.
With their hands still joined, they leapt.