Hey guys!

I am so, so sorry that it went so long without me updating. I only have on thing to say in my defense: LIFE. Life just got hectic, with school, work, everything in between. I can't promise that I'll update more frequently, but I really do appreciate all the reviews!

As a way of saying sorry, I put in three different snippets for this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. You can all thank missblueeyes63 and a guest reviewer for these prompts. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint. At all. I own my computer, which I watch Flashpoint on, but not the tv series. Sorry.

Ed thinking about how he was a contributing factor in Sam sending in the heart

He was going to kill Braddock.

Sending the heart up, what was he thinking? He could've gotten someone killed; he could've gotten the heart injured in some way. He couldn't believe Braddock didn't call this up.

But then again, Braddock wouldn't have even sent the heart up if he hadn't been on that coffee run.

Ed sat heavily on the bench, staring blankly at the lockers in front of him. This was his fault. He had gotten irritated at the rookie; had sent him out for coffee to get him away from the situation for awhile, and they had nearly lost everything. This wasn't on Braddock; this was on him.

The patient had almost died; Jack had almost died because of an error in his judgment. He had allowed his emotions to get the better of him in his irritation at the rookie, and it had nearly caused havoc to come over the entire situation. It had gotten Wordy shot. This was entirely his fault.

As this new realization settled over him, Ed ignored Braddock coming out of the shower, his earlier inclination to yell at him gone as he realized that the rookie wasn't the only one to blame. He walked past the confused man and left, needing to go to the gun range, or the gym, something to get his frustrations out. He didn't spare Braddock a second glance.

Greg thinking about Dean

If you asked anyone on Team One, Sergeant Greg Parker was a very emotional, open man. He was the type of man you felt you knew even if you only met him once because he seemed to keep his opinions open and expressed and helped you understand yourself better. But as Team One thought on how this day turned out, they realized that their sergeant was a man who had a whole host of secrets that were painful and that he didn't let anyone else see.

"Dad, he's over there!"

Parker paused as he stopped by the door, debating whether this was something he really wanted to do. He knew he had no real reason to keep the glove; it wasn't like Dean was keeping it for any reason. After all, he hadn't seen his son in nine years. As far as he knew, Dean didn't even think about it anymore; it wasn't even a part of his life.

"Here you go, little man. Everyone needs to have a memento of a good day, huh?"

But this glove was precious to him, precious in the memories it held, because it was almost all he had left of his son. He still remembered the day that Dean got that glove, still remembered the awed look on his young son's face as he hesitantly accepted the signed glove. And that moment was precious, so precious to him, and he was about to give it away?

"Dad, look!" The wonder on Dean's face was so bright, the smile so infectious that Parker instantly labeled it the highlight of his day. "He gave me his glove!"

But then he thought about the Dean he used to know, the boy who would pause on his way to a friend's house to help an elderly lady take in her groceries. He was the most helpful spirited boy that Parker had ever known, and he had a feeling that Dean would want this.

"Today was the best day EVER!"

As he set the glove on the table, he hesitated briefly before sitting down. Phoebe's father couldn't be with her now, and he had no one to go home to, so he figured she could use someone else in there with her, someone to keep her company for just a little while. As she slept, he sat quietly, patiently, and thought. Thought about all he had lost, all he had gained, and wondered if he would ever see his son again.

FPFPFPFPFPFPFP

Walking into he holding cell later that day, he could see that the father thought he had lost his daughter today, and it gave him joy to be able to say what he had come to say. "Phoebe's going to be all right," he started. He knew the father didn't believe him, and paused before he continued on, making sure to keep his voice composed. "The man who was supposed to get the heart? He talked to the doctors. He decided to give up the heart." Jack paused, looking at Parker with something akin to hope. "He wants Phoebe to have it instead."

The look of hope, gratitude, and desperate relief was overwhelming, and the single father brought his face to his hands, unable to say anything as the emotions washed over him. Parker clasped his shoulder in a show of silent support; hoping, praying that one day, he would be able to see his son again, and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to experience all the conflicting emotions that came with being a parent again.

Sam feeling like a misfit—missing Matt, wonder at how no one died

"Job's not about being a good shot. Job's about saving lives."

Sam had stared at his new boss in exasperation. Really? There was a perp in the hospital with a gun and hostages. What other way was there? That was what he thought. Now, looking back at the day, he had different emotions warring inside of him, and he wasn't sure what felt more up front.

This is what he was trained to do: what he himself had trained himself to do. To go over the day with a clear eye, break down anything he had done wrong, tell himself how he could have done it right. Look at everything he had done right (which wasn't much today, in his opinion) and see how he could have done it better. It helped him become better and better until he was the best, and he planned to be the best. He needed to be the best. Because the best survived, and the best kept everyone else alive, too.

Emotion one: irritation. Lane hadn't even considered his input before directly putting them down. That never would've happened in his old unit. Everyone there had listened to what he had to say about their plan with interest and respect. Lane just immediately put it down and then had the nerve to send him on a coffee run like he was some fresh-faced rookie! He might be new to the SRU, but he had been through more than any of these officers. He had gone through two tours with JTF-2, was the best sniper in the army, and they had him running coffee errands. He wasn't like other new rookies. He was a vet; he had life experience. Surely that had to count for something.

Sam let the irritation slide, emotion now picked apart and addressed. Then came the second emotion: guilt. It was his fault that the heart had been sent up. He didn't even think to check with his team, too insulted about being sent on the coffee run, too sure of himself. When the doc had called him over and started that whole "You left your team to deal with the fire" he had assumed the worst. He had thought that at least one person had died, and it would have been his fault. It was always his fault when things went wrong. When he got up there, everyone had looked fine; everyone was standing. But it turned out that Wordsworth had been shot, and it was only pure luck that it was in the vest. His death would've been on Sam, and Sam blamed himself bitterly for that.

Sam packed it away to torture himself with it later, knowing that he needed to move on before he didn't sleep at all tonight. Last emotion on the checklist: awe. He didn't know how else to put it. He was used to the whole "shoot the perp on sight" routine. He was the best at what he did, but this wasn't that anymore. Job's not about being a good shot. Job's about saving lives. When Parker had first said that, Sam had scoffed at his naivety. You don't always have the luxury of thinking you can save everyone. But then Team One had done what Sam had thought was impossible: they turned what should've been a kill mission into one that had everyone come out alive. Sam still wasn't sure how that happened, but he knew he wanted to see it happen again. He wanted to be a part of it, wanted to save lives. Save some to maybe make up for the ones he took, to make up for the one life he should have saved above all else, but couldn't.

But he knew Team One didn't think very highly of him; knew that their feelings towards him probably went way down over this call, especially when they found out he was the one who sent the heart up. He knew they hated him for coming onto their team without having to go through all the testing like others did; hated how they didn't get to choose him. He knew, and he understood. Hate was an emotion he was pretty familiar with. Because sometimes, he hated himself.

But he was determined to stay on this team for as long as possible. He was determined to help save lives. He just wished he could do it with his best friend by his side, his brother in all but blood.

"I miss you, Matt," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

He leaned back against the headboard, thinking of his lost friend. The friend he… "I miss you," he whispered again. Then he turned out the light and went to sleep.

Well, I hope you enjoyed these! Please review and let me know what you think, what you want to be in the next one, etc. etc. I absolutely LOVE reviews!