Author's Note: So, it's been almost two years since I've written anything and three years since I wrote this story. "Why?" you may ask. I was in jail. I may have been in jail because I work there, but still. Okay, that's not my real excuse. I've only been in jail/prison (my state is really small; our jails and prisons are in the same place) since April, and the majority of that was the Corrections Academy (why I had to go to the Correctional Officer Academy to be a Counselor is beyond me. They didn't even let me get sprayed with OC! At least I weaseled me why into getting to go through the smoke house at fire school. Damn, I was SO high on pure O2. I could write a memoir on the nine weeks I spent learning how to be a CO and not learning anything about my actual job. But I digress). No, the real reason is I was being a looser pants and not writing anything. But, here's a new chapter to this sequel to Glasgow. If you've never seen this story before, go read Glasgow first. Otherwise, you'd be like, "why the Eff is Ed on trial?"

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint.

The Crown V. Edward Lane

Chapter 3: Hopes and Fears

Lane Residence, Toronto

It was well after dark by the time Ed arrived home wielding a bag of Italian takeout from his family's favorite Ma and Pa establishment, Dominic's. Aware of the late hour well after conventional dinner time, he was hoping his splurging on extra helpings of cannolis for desert would appease his undoubtedly starving wife and teenage son.

He hadn't meant to return home so late. In fact, after spending the past week in the city detention center he was dying to get home to his family. But seeing Jules alive and talking, albeit slowly and effort fully, he couldn't bring himself to leave her side. It wasn't until Sam had returned, showered, refreshed, and ever mindful of Jules' disdain for flowers in the hospital, carrying a cactus, that he looked at his watch and saw how much time had flown by.

Ed smiled to himself as he turned the key in his front door lock. The look on Jules' face and her greeting words to Sam had been so classic Jules. She'd smiled at the sight of Sam, then smirked and replied, "Oh good, you showered. I was beginning to think something was dying in here, and as we all know from the recent turn of events, it wasn't me."

Ed shook his head and smirked at the memory. It had taken her a full minute to get the line out, but still, leave it to Jules to make a joke out of her own recent brush with death.

"Sophie, Clark! Daddy's home bearing gifts!" Ed greeted as he strode through the threshold of his home for the first time in a week. Just walking a couple of steps in seemed to sooth the aches and pains from the gang beating he endured while locked up in the city jail. Of all the reasons to get sent to The Hole, protective custody because he was a known cop wasn't exactly the most masculine.

Clark entered the front room with a piece of pizza in his hand, a smile quickly etching his face. "Dad!" He thoughtlessly dropped the slice on the front room side table where the Lane family always left their keys and threw himself at his father to enfold him in a massive bear hug of an embrace, causing Ed to drop the bag of take-out. "Mom said they let you out, but since you didn't come home, I was afraid…" he trailed off unable to finish his thought.

Ed kissed the side of his head and pulled back to look his teenage son full on in the face. "What, that I managed to violate my bail four hours after my pro-bono baby lawyer so painstakingly worked so hard to have it awarded to me?" He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Not a chance, kiddo. Nothing's gonna keep me from my family." He reached out to hold Clark's head steady so that he was forced to look his father straight in the eye. "You know that, right?"

Clark cast his eyes downward for a moment as if to convey uncertainty before meeting his father's eyes again. The action almost broke Ed's heart.

"Yeah, Dad. I know that," was his less than convincing reply. Ed knew what this meant. After his recent actions of vengeance, he had a long road ahead of him to gain back his son's full trust.

"Clark," he began with concern written all over his face. "You don't think I would ever—"

"No, Dad," Clark cut him off before stepping away from him and turning his back to retrieve his most likely now dust covered piece of pizza. He took a large bite and continued with a full mouth, "I trus' u 'ad," he chocked out.

Not fully convinced, Ed nodded and lifted up the bag of takeout he had dropped on the floor when he hugged Clark. "I guess I'm a little late for dinner, but I DID manage to score extra cannolis." He smiled at the sparkle in his son's eyes at the mention of his favorite desert.

Clark swallowed his pizza and rushed forward for the bag, all consternation about his father seemingly forgotten. "Sweet! Thanks, Dad!" He grabbed the bag ran into the kitchen with it.

Ed smiled and shook his head at his son's typical teenage boy reaction. Then he frowned. He thought with the first sense of guilt he'd felt since his fist connected with Carter Huxley's face about how in the coming months Clark may have to grow from teenage boy to man with all he would have to deal with while his father was on trial for assault and attempted murder. In taking action, justified or not, he'd never factored in what it would do to his boy.

Ed followed his son into the kitchen where his wife sat feeding his baby daughter stage two baby food. Kids grow up so fast, he thought. It seemed like yesterday that she was still breast feeding. He gave a silent prayer that, at least for the immediate future, he wouldn't have to miss another moment of his daughter's formative years.

Sophie looked up with a somewhat sad smile and an emotion Ed couldn't quite place in her eyes. She put the baby spoon that she was using to feed Izzy down and got up to greet her recently incarcerated husband. Ed stepped forward and enfolded her in strong embrace. Sophie, almost reluctantly wrapped her arms around him in return.

And it was then that he placed what he saw in her eyes.

Fear.

St. Patrick's Hospital

Jules gave what she could only imagine was most a very weak smile to Sam as he continued to ramble on about the virtues of a cactus over a regular house plant. She thought about how cute he was when he was excited about something. If it was her way, she'd make it so that Sam was always this upbeat and exuberant. She felt a pang of guilt. If he was this excited about a stupid cactus, what had he gone through while she was unconscious?

"And the best part," Sam paused his argument to kiss Jules' right hand again. Jules had lost count of the number of times he had done so. "Is that you don't really have to worry about watering it. You could forget for a couple of months and this sucker will still be sticking around." He smiled and leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. "The cactus is a fighter," he whispered. "Just like you," he finished as he gently rested his forehead against hers. Jules wished she could lift her free left hand to stroke his face, but she still could barely lift it an inch, try as she might. In the back of her mind she knew this should be cause for concern, but with Sam so close to her, she couldn't bring herself to care.

It was long past visiting hours, but apparently the hospital staff had long ago learned not to try to kick Sam out. Jules was feeling extremely tired and worn out with her head now throbbing from a day of just trying to form coherent sentences, but was afraid to ask Sam to let her sleep. She could only imagine that he was still babbling about the metaphorical attributes of a cactus because he was afraid to let her sleep for fear that she wouldn't wake up again. Again she felt that guilt. She never wanted to be the cause for his fears.

"So," Sam changed topics as he sat back. "I met your brother," he said somewhat cautiously.

Jules' eyes widened at this intelligence. She now felt more wide awake then she had felt since she woke up to Greg's goofishly grinning face. "Collin?" she asked in a near whisper, one part hope, one part disbelief.

It had been years. Her big brother Collin, the man who practically raised her, had cut himself out of her life years ago. Told her that he couldn't handle watching her kill herself in her job anymore. Told her that 'hero' was just another name for people who get killed because of other people's problems. She couldn't understand his perspective, couldn't understand why he couldn't see how important her job was to her. Couldn't understand why he couldn't see how important saving lives and keeping the peace was.

And, God, she missed him dearly. She'd be lying if she said there weren't days when she thought about leaving the force, hanging up her badge and convincing herself that she'd given enough of her life and sanity to the job and passing the torch to the next generation of heroes, just so that she could talk to him, lean on him, laugh with him again. But she wouldn't budge. And he'd been away so long, he obviously wouldn't budge. They both had too much Irish stubbornness in them. So she hadn't ever let herself hope that he would come back to her, let her back into his life.

"Yeah," Sam chuckled as he lifted his hand to stroke the left side of her face. "I almost pummeled him at one point."

Jules coughed out her best semblance of a laugh, overjoyed at the conformation of the realization of one of her wildest dreams. "What," she began with her now familiar hard effort, "did he," she paused to organize her thoughts into speech, "hit on you?"

Sam laughed out loud at the return of her automatic wit. "No, but if I swung that way, I wouldn't mind." He kissed her hand for what must have been the four thousandth time. "Your brother's hot," he joked back.

Jules squeezed the hand that held hers as best she could. "If I wasn't… In love with you," she began slowly, "I'd…set you up," she smiled.

Sam beamed at her declaration of love before leaning in to kiss her. "Good to know you're always looking out for me," he said against her lips.

All kidding aside, Jules' hindered brain didn't have to work too hard to figure out why Sam had wanted to beat up her elder brother. He probably put two and two together to get the four that was the reason why she had pushed herself to the point of popping stitches and re-collapsing a lung during her first physical therapy session after being shot. That wasn't exactly Collin's fault, but she knew Sam well enough to know that he would place all the blame for that incident on his shoulders.

Sam pulled back to look into her once more half lidded eyes. "He told me what happened," he explained then kissed her hand in sympathy before continuing. "If you could have seen the guilt on his face, Jules…" he trailed off then shook his head. "He sincerely wants to be back in your life," Sam almost pled on behalf of Jules' brother.

With as much anger and annoyance as she could muster, Jules replied, "Then…Where is he?" the effort causing a stabbing pain in her head.

As she flinched from the pain, Sam gently shushed her to calm her down and leaned in to kiss her again. "Medicine Hat, sweetheart," he told her softly using his SRU Interpersonal Communication skills to bring her heightened emotion down. "He's trying to convince your father and brothers to come support you."

At these words, Jules fainted.

Additional Author's Note: Dominic's is the name of my family's favorite pizza/hoagie/general Philly style Italian take-out place. Can I just say that since I last wrote this story I re-watched Lois and Clark again, watched Smallville for the first time, and saw Superman Returns (which mostly sucked) and Man of Steele (only the stuff connected to Kryton sucked), so writing Clark as in Clark Lane was totally wigging me out. My brain kept wanting me to write a Chloe line calling Clark out for being such a whinny little girl. That's my favorite part of Smallville: Chloe calling Clark out on being a whinny little girl at least three times a season. I swear, Chloe's the best thing to happen to the Superman universe since the Death and Life of Superman storyline. What am I talking about again? Boy, I bet you all missed my random, stream of consciousness author's notes in the years I've been away. So share the love; Please leave a review. It is a currency richer than that given to me by my nice state paying job.