Author's notes: Thanks for those lovely reviews. It does a lot for encouraging prompt updates! (HINT HINT). This chapter will have quite a few flashbacks. I've marked them with "Flashpoint Flashback", so I hope it doesn't get too confusing.

The next chapter will contain a little more adult content, so I might take it to M for the duration.

I have never been in prison, so everything I've got is from Wikipedia and several other websites. I also wasn't very successful finding a listing of commonly used Flashpoint termanology; so if you know of a site that would help, let me know.

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He had arrived a little earlier than expected; as if the extra minutes before seeing his teammates would help ease the feelings inside him. Taking these few minutes to allow him to pull on his mask, not a literal mask, but the one he had been crafting since that day and that call. A mask that would show the world that he was whole and that his experience hadn't broken him. It was a lie; the mask would just cover that fact that he was broken, just like a piece of glass that would never be the same even with all of pieces present.

Walking into the locker room, he could hear Team Two gearing up for a day in the gym. He paused, not wanting to make the final turn into the inner room. He knew he should leave, but he was compelled to listen. It was if he craved the normalcy that came with the banter between teammates.

"It's not really fair to us." A complaining voice broke through the other conversations.

"Come on Ted, put yourself in his place." Another male answered.

A laughing voice replied, the pitch high and feminine, obviously a male. "You'd like to be in the position wouldn't you big boy. It would be "hard" to resist!"

"Go to hell Mitch!" This voice sounded angry. "I'd rather take a bullet then to have that happen. I can't even imagine how that call went down."

He was rooted to the wall now; listening to these men discuss him and what had happened. If his fellow officers felt this way, how was his team going to react? The other man had been right, a bullet would have been easier to manage. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked back out of the locker room area.

Taking a long drink from the water fountain, he leveled his breathing and mentally repositioned his mask.

"Hey, good to see you back."

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he flinched before he had the chance to recognize the speaker. "Sorry Ed, I guess I was a little lost in thought. First time back here." He left off, hoping that it would explain his behavior.

"Not a problem. The team hasn't been the same without you here. By the way, I wanted to let you know I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to get over and see you the last couple of weeks. Clark is playing baseball and it seems like he's always got a game."

"It's all right. I've been pretty busy. Doing some things around my place that I didn't have a chance to get done before."

"Nothing like some time off." Ed wasn't sure what else to say and it was obvious that this conversation was quickly becoming strained. "Well, I'm going to go stow some stuff in my locker. I'll see you in a few minutes."

He slapped a smile on his face, "Sure thing Ed." He watched his teammate walk off. Ed Lane had always been one of the most steadfast members of Team One and if he was this uncomfortable he could only imagine how this day was going to go.

Ten minutes later all of Team One along with Doctor Luria were seated around the conference table. The usual chatter and joking had been replaced with silted conversation and uncomfortable silences.

"Greg, lets start with you. Can you take us back on the events of April 10?" Doctor Luria smiled reassuringly at the sergeant. She knew that what they were going to do was the equivalent of pulling the scab off of a wound, but that was sometimes necessary to prevent scarring. Besides, every member of this team needed to deal fully with their feelings.

"All right. We were dispatched at 9:45 A.M. to The East, a fight had broken out in the infirmary and a group of inmates had taken several doctors, nurses and guards hostage. According to what we received there were at least four guards dead.

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Greg had begun speaking to his team as soon as they hit the road. "Spike, do you have the floor plan pulled up yet?"

Sitting in the back of one of the Suburbans, Spike was working furiously on a laptop. "Got it boss. The East is laid out in a modified grid system. Where are they holding the hostages?"

"According to the warden they are holding up in the infirmary."

"Looks like they didn't plan this out very well, it's not very defensible." Spike continued to punch away at the keyboard. "The way the ventilation is set-up, we could pop in tear gas and hit them that way."

"I'd like to try talking them out of it first Spike."

"Ok, I've sent you the plans."

Greg was pulling up the information that Spike had gathered. "What is that access behind the infirmary?"

"According to the blueprints it leads to a loading dock."

Greg scrolled down on the plans. "Alright, we're going to set up base in the loading dock area. Jules, you'll be with me in the command center.

"Copy boss." Jules, riding in the vehicle with Sam and Wordy, rolled her eyes. She spoke to the others in the vehicle. "I think I'd be more use on the ground."

"Think about it Jules. Greg doesn't want you anywhere on the inside."

"Why not?" She couldn't understand because she knew she was as good as her teammates.

"You're a woman Jules." Wordy answered. "This is a men's maximum security prison where they don't see pretty young women often." He left the rest unspoken.

Reddening, Jules stammered a reply. "I didn't think about that." She sat quietly as Greg positioned everyone for action once they arrived.

With 473 inmates, The Toronto East Detention Centre often referred to as simply The East and within it's walls is housed a wide assortmant of felons. As the SRU vehicles pulled up to it they were met by armed guards.

"Sergeant Greg Parker, SRU."

"Yes sir, we've been expecting you. Warden Whitlatch has asked for you to be given whatever you need. He's waiting for you inside."

"We're planning on setting up in the loading dock here, have him meet us there."

"Yes sir."

The inside of the prison was errily quiet, with the exception of guards in the towers there was no one in sight. Pulling into the shelter of the loading dock area the team exited for the vehicles and started pulling out equipment. The side door opened and a guard ushered them inside.

"Sergeant Parker, thank you for coming." Warden Whitlatch had been a muscular man in his youth, but had long since faded into the soft paunch that often accompanies a desk job and too many rich meals. His bulk was encased in a suit and he face was flushed with nervious persperation. "We've got a real situation here."

Greg sat down the computer and looked at the other man. "Tell me everything so far."

"There has been some tensions recently and this morning as breakfast was finishing we had what equates to a gang fight. The guards broke it up and started taking the injuried to the infirmary. Once there, the injuried turned on the guards and took over. One of the guards was able to get away and radio for help. I sent back-up to try and restore order, but they shot them." Whitlatch's voice was hard, "I've had four men die today and four more are on their way to the hospital. I want these bastards out."

"I understand Warden, but our goal will be to get everyone out safely." Greg continued on. "So how did they get the drop on the guards in the infirmary?"

"We believe that the two "gangs" were working together and the fighting was just a ruse. Also according to our records, at least five more men associated with them were already in the infirmary with food poisening. Again we believe this was planned so that there would be extra men at there disposal."

"How many total in this room?" Greg pointed to the on-line blue print.

"As for prison personnel, we believe there are six guards, two doctors and four attendents. As of last night the infirmary had a total of twelve patients, but again we think that five of them were plants."

"How many prisioners were taken there this morning?"

Whitlatch paused and then continued as the embarrasement in his voice became obvious to all. "We don't know. Everything happened so fast, they were trying to break up the fight and get the other prisoners back to their cells. It could have been eight to thirteen more."

"So are the other prisoners locked down?"

"Yes," came the hesitatent answer.

"That's confirmed?" Greg pressed.

"Well, the incident happened as some inmates had already reported for their work assignments. We are trying to account for everyone."

"Beautiful," the reply was sarcastic. "Unknow amount of prisoners in the infirmary and others that may be running loose inside the prision." Greg turned to his men. "Spike, have someone show you where their communications room is, I want you to see if we have eyes inside. I also want to talk to them as soon as you get patched in."

"Copy boss." Spike picked up his bag and motioned to one of the few guards. "You heard the man, communications center."

"Jules, as soon as we start getting names I want as much information as you can give me."

"Copy."

"Ed, you and Lou need to move into position here. Sam and Wordy, I want you here." Greg pointed to the area around the infirmary. "Remember, we won't know who is in on this or just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Copy." Ed replied and then the four men left the command center.

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"What happened then Greg." Doctor Luria prompted.

Greg looked around the table embarrassed; he had trailed off while lost in his own thoughts. Looking at his teammates he could see that all of them, save one, looked uncomfortable with the memories. The other, he thought, seemed almost amused, a look that was out of place with the situation. Deciding to ignore it, he continued.

"We had made contact with the men that had taken over the infirmary."

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"Boss," Spike spoke to Greg. "No eyes, it appears they've disabled the video cameras. I do have the phone line tapped into and it's ready for you, extension 105."

"Thanks Spike." Greg took the phone that had been set up for him and dialed the extension. "Hello, this is Sergeant Greg Parker from the Strategic Response Unit. Who am I talking to?"

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"So up to that point everything was proceeding as planned?"

Greg was still taking the lead, "Yes, we had established that a gang of headed up by a group of Croatians that planned the attack and were hoping to gain release."

"Would you say that everyone was following the protocol?" Dr. Luria continued the questioning.

"Yes. Those team members in the hot zone were partnered up so that someone had their back."

"And the others?"

"When you are not in what we would consider a dangerous spot team members can work independently."

"So Constables Scarlatti and Callaghan were not in what you would consider being risky areas?"

"No, plus there were also prison guards."

"Had the other inmates all been accounted for at that point?"

"We didn't know. The Warden assured us that he was working on it. The likelihood was that if any were still loose that it wouldn't impact the situation."

"So what happened?"

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Greg was worried. He had multiple dealings with Eastern European criminals before and from experience he knew most were not afraid to go down in a blazing gun battle, hoping to take as many others with them as possible. The leader of the group had started off very unstable and everything that Greg had tried did nothing to deescalate the situation.

"Wordy. Are you picking up much in there?" Greg had put them into an interior room and with a boom microphone they were trying to listen in to the conversations taking place in the infirmary.

"I don't speak Croatian, but the tone sounds pretty upset."

"Jules, get that translator on line and get me some information. Spike, come on back to command and get ready to help Lou with less lethal."

"Copy."

"Copy."

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"So you were getting the team ready to move?"

"Yes."

"When did you discover something was wrong?"

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Spike had left the room that contained the surveillance monitors and was heading back to the command center. He had looked over the plans for the prison and knew that he would be able to cut some travel time by heading through several prison industry areas.

The laundry room was ahead and next would be the wood shop, Spike noticed the lights were off and doors were shut. He was passing the room where the prison clothing was constructed when he noticed the lights were on. Pausing he looked into the small reinforced glass window.

Inside he could see a man in the typical prison uniform of white t-shirt and blue jeans. "Boss, I've got some movement. Looks like one prisoner."

"Copy that Spike. Secure him or bring him here and hand him off. We can't have him becoming a problem."

"Copy." Spike moved quietly into the room, his weapon H & K MP5 leveled. The man was moving around by the stacks of material. "Police. Put your hands on top of your head and turn around very slowly."

The man followed directions and turned around slowly, a big grin across his face.

Spike frowned, "What's so funny?"

A voice from behind Spike replied, "This!"

There was no time to react as a blow from behind hit Spike in the head. His finger tightened on the MP5's trigger releasing a five round burst that went high and right as he went down.

Stunned, but not unconscious thanks to his helmet, Spike felt the gun being pulled from his grasp. Hands reached down and pulled the strap holding the gun over his head. Another set of hands removed the Glock 17 from his side holster. Spike tried to roll over and prevent himself from being disarmed, but a boot came down firmly on his chest.

"Don't think so Constable." The voice was full of sarcasm at the word constable. "I think we've found ourselves a little lost piggy." The man looked at the three others with him. "Get him up and out of his gear, I don't want to be surprised with a back-up weapon and we certainly don't need him talking to his friends."

Pulled to his feet Spike struggled to stand, the blow to the head had really stunned him. Hands pulled off the web and gear attached to his uniform. His helmet was un-strapped and tossed to the side and his communication device was yanked from his ear.

From behind he could feel hands patting him down, looking for any weapon concealed upon him. The hands continued higher and suddenly he felt a hand grabbing onto his genitals. The grasp was tight and unexpected and it elicited a groan of pain.

"Easy with him. We don't want to damage Toronto's finest." The man who appeared to be the leader spoke.

The hand released him and Spike could feel hot breath on his neck. "And where's the fun in that?"

"Work first, fun later." The leader spoke. "Tie him up and lets discuss our plan."