Author's Notes: When I wrote the post eps for "Sons of the Father" I made mention of a former boyfriend of Jules whom Ed not so affectionately called Barry the Bastard. Many people asked for the full story on what had happened and I said that as soon as Jules told me the story, I would write it. Well, despite the bad timing of already being in the middle of other stories, she decided it the perfect time to finally reveal that bit of history to me. So, here is the story that developed as a result. You'll get the Jules/Barry back story in upcoming chapters. I hope you enjoy it.
Continuity: This takes place after "Sons of the Father" and before "We Take Care of Our Own."
Disclaimer: The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and the networks who air the episodes. Since the show has ended, our only way of getting new Flashpoint is through fan fiction. This story is my attempt to help fill the void, and the only profit I make is the warm fuzzy feeling reviews give me. Anything that does not come directly from the show is my own creation and should not be used without my permission.
What's Past is Now Present
It was a grainy video, obviously not professional grade quality. It showed a dark night, made even darker by the lack of artificial illumination such as street lights. There were no people around except for a single person walking obliviously down the sidewalk. It was a female with long dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie and the dangling strings from the headphones of an MP3 player were clearly visible. Her head was lowered and it was obvious she wasn't paying any attention to her surroundings.
As the petite brunette passed an even darker alleyway, a blonde man fell into step behind her, unnoticed by the woman he was following. She made her way to a parked car and only after she was standing there did she begin to fumble through her rather large purse. The keys she was apparently looking for must have made their way to the very bottom of her bag eluding themselves from her search.
The blonde man who had been following her suddenly surged forward. Before the woman could do anything, he'd grabbed her from behind pinning her arms to her side. He shoved her helplessly against the car she been waiting to get into. His intent was clear as the video went dark. As the screen went dark, gasps filled the room followed by a murmuring of voices.
Jules Callaghan glanced at the man standing next to her against the wall as the effect of the video truly hit home with the women gathered in front of the TV. She nodded to him and he turned on the lights bathing the gym once more in light. Jules pushed off from where she'd been leaning against the wall and stood in front of the assembled group. It was immediately obvious she was the woman from the video.
"The scene you just watched was staged. I wasn't hurt and I wasn't attacked but every day other women are not so fortunate. They are beaten, raped, and sometimes even killed. The statistics are scary and all too real. Too often women hear about these attacks and think about taking a self defense class. Then they talk themselves out of it thinking they would just never be able to actually fight back against a stronger attacker, or else they remember being told as little girls that a lady doesn't get into fights. So the decision to take that self defense class is never followed through. The truth is the best self defense you can give yourself doesn't require you to lay a finger on a would-be attacker. The truth is I made myself a victim in this video long before the guy ever laid a finger on me. Most of the time, rapists are looking for an easy victim and your best defense is not looking like one. The first part of this class is going to be all about teaching you how to do just that."
The older, white-haired man who'd been standing with her against the wall joined her. A red soft silk cap was perched on top of his snowy white hair. "Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, however, the worst happens. The second part of this class is going to be about how to defend yourself if that should happen. It's not going to be pretty and it's not going to be ladylike but if someone is determined to hurt you, the last thing you need to worry about is being ladylike. You are going to practice these moves today just like your life was truly in danger. I'll be playing the part of the attacker and before you start thinking, 'I could never hurt a sweet old man,' don't worry, I'm not that sweet and I'm not that old and I'll be wearing protective gear so I'll be fine."
Using the tape as a demonstration, Jules had the women in the class point out what mistakes they thought she'd made. While she was impressed they seemed to notice all the things she did wrong, they were also quick to admit they never really gave much thought to doing the exact same things they were saying led to the attack. She pointed out tips that could help save their lives in the future.
She finished that portion of the class and before they moved on to the physical aspect of self defense, she opened the floor to questions. A girl who couldn't be long out of teen years raised her hand first. "Wouldn't it be better to just carry pepper spray? One squirt of it and you wouldn't have to worry about your attacker."
"Except it's illegal to carry pepper spray if you aren't law enforcement." Jules quickly informed the group. "Besides, pepper spray isn't always effective. If an attacker is strung out on drugs, he might not feel the effects or worse, you could accidentally spray yourself and while you were incapacitated give your attacker more of a chance to hurt you. I know it's easy sometimes to watch movies and think carrying a weapon makes you safe but, aside from the fact that most of what you see on the screen is illegal here, those weapons have a greater chance of making you a victim. The moves Al and I are going to teach you today are legal and effective."
Once again, the older man interjected. "Most of you know me, know I used to do my fair share of boxing. You might be thinking it's an unfair match up putting this little scrap of a girl up against a big ole fellow like me. And you'd be right, sort of. It's unfair all right, unfair to me. You pay attention to the moves she shows you, practice them good and I'd hate to be the man who tried to cross you. Seeing as how I'm going to be the man crossing you today, it's not gonna be a good day to be me."
The next couple of hours passed quickly. As an SRU officer, Jules Callaghan was accustomed to practicing hand-to-hand combat. It was almost a daily training exercise if not actual experience. The opportunity for teaching others life saving maneuvers didn't come around as often. In fact, if it wasn't for the monthly class she helped Al Taggert teach at the gym he so proudly owned, she might not ever get the chance. It was part of the reason she willingly gave up an off-duty Saturday once a month but it wasn't the main reason.
The truth was, she would agree to almost anything Al Taggert asked of her. He might not have been her first friend years ago when she first came to Toronto intent on making it into the cool pants at SRU but outside her friends on Team One, he was the most important one. She owed him so much, although he would deny ever doing anything special.
All too soon, the class was over. The ladies expressed their thanks and determination to never be a victim before leaving the gym. Once it was just the two of them, Al started to shed the heavily padded suit that protected him against the jabs and kicks he'd endured at the hands - and feet - of not only the women who had signed up to take the class but Jules as well. As soon as the gear was on the floor, his hand reached in his back pocket for his cap that he'd stuck there while sparring. He glanced over at the young woman he loved like a daughter. "Thanks again for the help. I don't think these classes would be nearly as successful if I didn't have you leading them."
Jules wiped her forehead with a hand towel and looked over at him. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I don't know anyone else who would offer a free self defense course any more, let alone one a month. You give so much back to this area and never ask anything in return. I'm proud to be able to help you with it."
"Sam doesn't mind you giving up a Saturday you both have off to help me out? I'm sure you two could have much better plans together. Or better yet, he could have helped us out like he did for the video and come today to play the attacker again. Would have been a lot easier on this old bones." Al commented as he tipped an open bottle of water to his lips.
Jules snorted. "Like you would let him have all the fun. Besides, it's not like we're joined at the hip or anything. We don't have to spend every minute together. Besides, he already had plans for today. Some of his buddies that he hasn't seen in a while called him and asked him to join them for a hockey game - playing not watching. I swear he's been like a kid at Christmas since he got the invite."
"So when is that fellow gonna get smart and ask you to marry him? I thought fer sure when the two of you got the green light to date, a proposal was coming sooner rather than later." Al pressed, putting the protective gear he'd been wearing away.
Rolling her eyes, Jules reached over and pulled his cap lower over his eyes good naturedly. It wasn't a new question by any means. Sometimes she thought Al Taggert worried more about her love life than her own father did. She could certainly accept his constant prying better than she would have had it come from her father. "What's your hurry, old man? He's happy; I'm happy; we're happy; why can't we just enjoy things?"
She didn't add that she and Sam both had secret fears that command wouldn't be as accepting about having married co-workers on the same team as ones that were just dating. Neither wanted to rock the boat until they had a little more time to prove they could handle maintaining both a professional and personal relationship.
"I'm not getting any younger, Sassafras; before I die, I'd like to see what beautiful babies the two of you will create. Closest I'll probably ever get to grandkids." He readjusted his cap, grinning at her unabashedly.
He sounded so bitter and hurt and so un-Al like that Jules reached over and squeezed his arm. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she'd met Al through his son Barry. The time she'd spent dating Barry was an experience she didn't like to dwell on or to even think about what happened to end things between them. Hearing Al make such comments brought it all back to the forefront of her mind and reminded her that she was at least partially responsible for driving what seemed to be a permanent wedge between father and son. "Have you talked to Barry lately?"
He muttered a few choice words under his breath before replying. "I said everything I had to say to him years ago. That's not going to change until he changes and that's not going to happen. I'm proud of so many things in my life but that no account son of mine is my worst failure. I don't even like talking about him. Especially not when I could be talking about you. Did you see the flyer on the bulletin board?"
Jules frowned, both from hearing him put his fathering skills down and from his question. "Al, don't…"
"Sass, I know everything that happened left a bad taste in your mouth for all of it. But, it's been years and I know ding dang well you still got it in you. Don't let what that shit for brains did continue to rule your life. He ain't worth it. Besides, proceeds for this event are going to TEMA." He let that tidbit dangle enticingly.
"And I think that's great." Jules assured him. "You know I'm all for anything that helps out TEMA and I'm willing to pitch in and help. I'll help sell tickets, take up tickets, set up, clean up, hell, I'll even bake cookies for it if you want me to. Just don't ask me to do something you know I can't."
"You know I wouldn't." Al sighed and covered the hand she had on his arm with his own. "I just don't think this is something you can't do. Just think about it, okay? That's all I ask. I bet Sam would get a kick out of seeing you open up a can or two of whoopass."
"Sam has seen me open more than a few of those cans, thank you very much. Still, he doesn't know anything about what happened and I'm not too keen on having to explain it to him." Jules reminded him. Though she would do almost anything Al asked of her, this was the one thing she couldn't and wouldn't do for him. She'd made a promise to herself in the aftermath of Barry and doing what Al wanted her to do would mean going back on that vow. She couldn't reopen those old wounds, not for Al and not for TEMA. She hoped he understood and didn't think badly of her for it. "I'm going to take a quick shower before that pizza arrives."
Now it was Al who snorted. "Who said anything about pizza?"
It was a familiar joke between them because he always bought pizza after one of these classes, the only type of "thank you" he knew she would be willing to accept. Jules gave his arm one more squeeze before retrieving her gym bad and disappearing down the hall to the locker room. Al watched her until she was out of sight and then shook his head. "Sorry, Sassafras. Sam knows all about what my bastard of a son did to you. And I don't regret telling him one bit."
- FP - FP - FP -
In the quiet and privacy of her own home, Jules could spend upwards to an hour in the shower. There was something about standing under the hot spray, allowing the water to wash away any lingering stress the day had left with her. Even better if she could convince Sam into joining her.
Taking a shower in a locker room, whether it was at headquarters or here at the gym, was a different story. Even if she was the only one present, Jules felt too exposed to fully enjoy a shower the way she could at home. It wasn't anything she could really put her finger on or explain, but something even years of using a community based shower hadn't changed. Showers both at work and at the gym were quick and efficient. So ten minutes after leaving Al, Jules had toweled off and was slipping into jeans and a white tank top. Her damp hair hung loosely to her shoulders as she reached into her bag for a blouse to put on over the tank top.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
There were a few sounds that Jules Callaghan could identify without a second thought just upon the hearing of them. She could tell she was safely hooked onto the railing of a building without looking just by the tell-tale click of the carabiner. In a room full of people talking loudly, she could pick out Sam Braddock's location just from his whisper. The sound she probably knew the absolute best, however, was the sound of a gun being fired. Without a doubt, the three pops she'd just heard had come from a gun, probably a small caliber handgun.
She reached back into her gym bag wishing she was reaching for the reassuring grip of her Glock. Her service revolver was safely locked away in the gun cage at headquarters, however. Instead her fingers closed around her cell phone as she drew it out of her bag. She dialed the direct line to the SRU dispatch, trying to remember who was currently working. Sidney answered on the second ring.
"SRU."
"Sidney, it's Jules. Shots fired at Taggert's Gym." She rattled off the address. "I don't have eyes in yet so I don't know how many suspects we're dealing with or if anyone's been hurt."
"Team Three gear up, hot call." As Sidney relayed the information to the on-shift team, Jules said a silent prayer of thanks. If she couldn't have Team One providing her back up for whatever was going on, then Team Three was her substitute of choice. "Jules, is your position secure?"
Jules chewed on her bottom lip. The answer should be an unquestionable yes. No further shots had been fired, and she had no idea if the subjects were even still in the gym. Al however surely was and she couldn't stay hidden in the locker room when he might be injured or worse. That meant she couldn't stay where she was. "Sidney, I'll stay on the line but I've got to check things out. Someone might be injured."
"Jules?" Donna Sabine-Gerald came over the phone, obviously having had Sidney patch her into the call. "We're ten minutes no more than twenty from your location. If your position is secure, hold there until we arrive. You don't have a weapon, and you won't do anyone any good if you get hurt yourself."
Ten to twenty minutes wasn't a bad response time unless you were laying there bleeding out from gun shot wounds. While her own memory of being shot on that rooftop were and probably would always be fuzzy, she knew from what Sam had said that the delay in getting help to her in the aftermath were the worst moments of his life. She was trying to keep calm and rational, to think like the SRU constable she was, but it was hard not knowing if Al was okay. Only the thought that Sam could be injured would worry her more. So, even though she knew what Donna was telling her was the right thing to do according to procedure, she had to follow her heart. "Sorry, I can't do that. I'll give you a report when I know what's going on."
"Jules…" The protests Donna was more than likely about to give went unheard as Jules tucked her phone into the waistband of her jeans without terminating the call. She might not have her gun but she did have her hands and had just spent a whole morning showing women how to use them as effective weapons. She needed them free in case it came to that. She eased the door to the locker room open and peered out. It was eerily quiet given the gunfire from moments earlier.
The gym, which usually catered more to the boxing crowd rather than serious weight lifters or exercise buffs, was an open design. There weren't many places for a gun-wielding subject to hide which was good as Jules eased to the end of the corridor where the locker rooms were situated. She couldn't see any threats in the gym itself but she also didn't see Al. The only other place to look was Al's office which was all the way over on the other side of the gym.
There was no way she could reach the office without crossing the gym floor but that would mean exposing herself to anyone who might be watching. It went against all her training but she didn't have a choice. She'd take the risk if it meant being able to check on Al. Ducking low to give herself the best coverage from anyone glancing out the big window at the office, Jules quietly made her way across the open floor toward the door to the office. Flattening herself against the wall, she once more wished she had her Glock or, even better, her M4. Glancing inside, she didn't see anyone, not even Al.
She frowned. She knew Al wouldn't have left without checking on her - at least not willingly. Had he been kidnapped? Why? Sure, the gym wasn't in the best part of town but Al had a great report with everyone in the neighborhood. His giving, easy-going nature made him a favorite with old and young alike. She was pretty sure those living in the area would do anything for him just as he would them.
She reached for the phone she'd tucked into her waistband. "Donna? The scene appears clear…" She was about to report Al missing when she caught sight of his signature red cap lying on the floor behind the desk. Then she heard a moan coming from the same direction. Without a second thought, she dropped her cell phone, ignoring the clattering sound as it hit the concrete floor. She didn't know if it was still in one piece or if her contact with Team Three had been cut off. All she knew was that she had to get to Al.
He was lying face down on the floor, a pool of blood already forming beneath him. Jules dropped to her knees and carefully turned him over. Though the sight of the older man she cared so much for bleeding and mostly unconscious turned her stomach and made her want to vomit, the professional part of her was able to stay detached and focus. Still, she wanted to scream and cry and plead with him to be okay, especially as she noticed that he had what looked like at least three gunshot wounds. That meant every shot she'd heard while in the locker room had hit him. Two were in the chest and one in the shoulder. The chest wounds were the most serious and she knew he was in danger of bleeding out if she didn't do something quickly.
She removed the shirt she'd put on over her tank top and pressed it against his chest, holding pressure against the two wounds. "Al, stay with me. Don't you dare die on me, Old Man."
A moan was the only response she got but his eyes fluttered at the sound of her voice. She wasn't sure if her phone was still working or if Donna would be able to hear her but she had to try. She raised her voice, hoping the dropped cell phone was still functioning and still connected to Team Three. "Donna, man down. We need EMS right now."
"Sass?"
Her heart skipped a beat in relief at his whispered use of his pet name for her. His eyes were still closed and his face held a grayish tinge but hearing him speak even just one word was reassuring. She wanted to put a hand to his cheek to reassure him as well but didn't dare let go of the pressure she had on her makeshift bandage that was stemming the blood.
"Shh, take it easy, Al. Help will be here soon. Save your strength." Even as she was urging him not to talk, the officer in her wanted to question him about who had done this. There was no sign of a struggle as far as she could see. As far as it seemed, whoever had come in had done so, shot him three times, and then left just as quickly. It didn't make sense. There was nothing to indicate signs of a robbery- not that a gym like Al's would be a prime target for robbery anyway- gone bad. Al had no enemies; he loved everyone and everyone loved him in return. The only person she'd ever known him to have cross words with was his son Barry and that had been because of his treatment of her. While her feelings toward the man she'd foolishly dated years earlier were nothing but bitter, she didn't think even he was capable of doing something like this.
"Sass?" Al was too stubborn to listen to her pleas to remain quiet. Perhaps that was why they'd always gotten along so great. "You 'kay?"
An unbidden tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't even bothered to wipe it away. Leave it to Al to be worried about her when he was the one lying there bleeding to death. How long had it been since she'd made the call? Even though she knew it hadn't even been the ten minutes Donna had said was the quickest they'd be there, she wanted Team Three to burst in the door right then. It wasn't like she felt like they were still in danger; the subjects who had shot Al were apparently long gone. However, the team's arrival would mean that EMS could help him.
"I'm fine, Al. It's okay. Help is on its way. We'll get you to the hospital and the docs will fix you up good as new. Just stay with me, okay?"
Al groaned weakly. His breathing was becoming increasingly labored, making Jules wonder if one of the bullets had punctured a lung. If he didn't get medical help almost immediately he was going to die right there and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to prevent it. Damn whoever had done this to him. She turned her head towards the direction she'd dropped her phone and once more hoped the connection was still viable.
"Donna, damn it, I need you guys here now." She yelled, not caring if the auto transcriber was recording her sounding anything less than professional and composed. This man meant as much to her as Sam, her own father and brothers, Greg, and the rest of Team One. He couldn't die, not like this, not with her hovering over him with her blood soaked hands pressing her now ruined lavender shirt against his bleeding wounds. She returned her attention to the man whose life was almost literally in her hands.
She heard the heavy front door of the gym bang open. She sniffled back her tears, expecting Donna and the rest of her team to burst in at any second. She didn't even look toward the door, worried that if she took her eyes off Al for one second more, he would slip away from her forever. She expected Jimmy, the young rookie of Team Three who seemed to have the most medical training, to kneel beside her to check on Al while Donna pressed her for any information she could give that would lead to the identity of the shooters.
When she heard the tell-tale crunch of a boot stepping down on her discarded cell phone, she didn't look up. Phones could be replaced and she knew from personal and repeated experience that when a team cleared a room, they didn't pay much attention to things like dropped cell phones. Her attention remained riveted on Al, expecting to hear Donna announce that the room was clear so that Al could be helped. Instead, she was surprised to hear the sound of a single gun cocking into firing position. Now she did glance up to see the barrel of a Smith and Wesson pistol pointed at her with a finger prepared to pull the trigger at any second.
