Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint or anything you recognize from it.

Thank you to every single one of you and to Sascha for all of the kind words and thoughts. And thank you for your patience 3 I'm working on a twist and I'm still uncertain if I should implement it or not...though it's probably not as exciting as I would have you to believe. Anyway, thank you again.

Please enjoy and Please Review!

Chapter Ten

Destroy What Destroys You

Addison unzipped her vest and let it fall from her shoulders, resting her head on the cold metal of her locker, "Are you okay?" She heard Jules ask as the other woman opened her own locker.

She nodded, her chest hurting from the beating her heart had taken from the case they had finished earlier in the day. Jules and Parker had tried their best to save the younger woman taken hostage during the robbery; they had tried and had been unsuccessful. It bothered Addison because the younger woman had pleaded to her, had stood near her when she had been shot and inadvertently, it was her blood that was splattered all over Addison. She should have been used to death by now, she had seen death up close and had killed but she hadn't been expecting to see the tragedy and utter depraved pleads in the woman's eyes as she stared Addison in the eyes when she had been shot. She had seen the life ebb from the woman and it bothered her. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. Maybe it was the fact that Addison could see herself in the younger woman when she was a child, the same look had been in her eyes so many times when she fought to survive her childhood. She had failed the other woman just as she had failed herself so many times before. It was the failure that bothered her the most.

Wordy and Sam had shoved past her to tackle the suspect and she had just stood there, her face splattered with warm blood, trying to feign nonchalance. Parker had left Team One's van, where Spike was sequestered, and had told her to go wash her face and take a few seconds to compose herself. She had shaken him off and helped Jules catalogue the scene, ignoring the worried looks the team had sent her way. The rest of the afternoon had been spent at the crime scene, and though Addison refused to admit it, she couldn't remember what she had said to her teammates: everything amalgamated into one huge blurring movie in fast-forward.

"Did you want to catch a movie and get a pizza?" Jules asked, breaking into Addison's maudlin thoughts.

She shook her head and cleared her throat, "Nah, I think I'm just going to go home and call it an evening."

Addison grabbed a bag with her towel and her soap, not wanting to wait until she got home to shower, the SRU showers would do the job. She felt the acidic bite of bile rising and walked out of the changing room, past Wordy talking quietly with Spike and bumped into Ed, "Hey, Addie. You okay?" he asked worriedly, noting the blank look in her eyes and the sheen of sweat on her forehead.

She patted him on the arm, "Yes, Ed. I just need to wash this off of me…now." She said and walked past him.

Ed sighed, and joined Wordy and Spike, "How's she doing?" Wordy asked Ed, Spike shot a look in Addison's direction.

Ed ran a hand over his head, shrugging, "There's a bigger reason why she's bothered."

Wordy shook his head, "She served in the military, she was bound to see someone killed."

Spike stared at the doorway she had entered, keeping half an ear open to Wordy and Ed's conversation, "Does Parker know?" Wordy asked.

Ed nodded, "We'll keep an eye on her, if by tomorrow she's still like this, Parker will step in." Spike nodded and sauntered away from them.

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"Addie?" She heard Spike's rusty tenor at the entrance to the women's showers.

She ran a hand through her wet hair and grabbed her bag, leaving the room and saw Spike leaning against the doorway casually. Though he tried to feign nonchalance, she could see a scowl of focus between his brows. "What's up?" She asked, her voice husky from the crying she had failed to hold back in the showers. Regardless of what people said about crying, she always felt useless and horrible after she cried and probably looked worse.

He stared at her, "You don't look so good."

And despite everything, she grinned: leave it up to Spike to insult her until she felt better, "Did you wait all this time to tell me that?"

He shook his head, "Just wanted to see if you were feeling well. You…hungry?" He asked and cleared his throat.

Addison glanced at him and realized he was uncomfortable and she smiled again, "I wouldn't torture you my presence, but thanks for the offer."

Spike shook his head, "I don't know where you get the idea that I don't like you."

She glanced around headquarters and found it deserted before turning back to face Spike, "Every time I'm near, you shy away. See," She said and laid a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles bunch and ripple beneath her touch. She watched him and despite being annoyed that he didn't like her, she smiled when she saw his jaw clamp down, "Don't try to act like you like me, its okay Spike. Thanks for asking though." She said and turned away, surprised to find his hand wrapped around her wrist. She swallowed back the urge to wrap herself around him.

"Wait." He said, pulling her towards him, "I don't hate you so could you please do me a favour and get that out of your head?" He waited for her to nod before continuing, "And I'm not asking to be nice, I'm asking because I'm worried. So get your stuff and I'll follow you home."

"Spike—" She began, not sure if her hormones could handle Spike being in her apartment without having a heart attack, and damn it: she didn't think she had that much self-control.

"Do you seriously want to fight me about this, Addison?" He asked incredulously. She swallowed and shook her head, hating the fact that she adored this side of him as well. Ugh, maybe she should have taken a cold shower instead.

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Addison slammed her car door shut and rolled her eyes when she saw Spike get out of his car, "You do realize that Jules lives in my apartment building right?" She asked him.

Spike grabbed her elbow and tugged her forward, "She's worried about you, and if she connects the dots, I'll tell her the truth."

She tugged her arm from his; he was not making getting over him any easier, "And that truth is?"

He watched her punch the floor number in the elevator, he slanted her a look and sighed, "Are we ordering pizza?"

She realized poking and prodding him would only make him dig in his heels more than he already did, "I guess."

He nodded and followed closely at her heels; she unlocked the door and let him in. He whistled, a grin plastered on his face, "That's...some bright decorations."

She threw him a proud smile, "Were you expecting anything different?"

He shook his head and motioned around the room, "This suits you."

Addison laughed and went to her bedroom, "Go ahead, make yourself comfortable. There's some beer and pop in the fridge if you want any, just help yourself. I'll be out in a second." She threw over her shoulder, closing the bedroom door behind her. She leaned against the door, holding a hand over her heart: she had to remain unaffected. It was the only option.

She ripped off her clothes and jumped into her plaid pyjama bottom and an old ratty shirt Florence—Spike's mom had given her and opened the door. She spied Spike in her kitchen eating something and ran towards him when she realized he was snacking on the last of her cookies his mom had sent home with her on Sunday night. "Hey, those are mine." She stole the cookie from his hand just as he was about to bite down and instead, shoved the entire cookie in her mouth. "These are mine." She said, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes, "Attractive." He muttered, glancing down at her shirt, "Hey, that's my shirt!" He tugged on the hem and she lurched away from him laughingly.

She swallowed the addictive cookie and shook her head at him, snagging her phone and dialling the pizza place, "Your mom gave me this." She said before placing the order.

Spike watched her and waited for her to hang up before saying, "So? My mom gave you those cookies." He pointed out.

She shook her head and pulled out some money from her wallet and left it on the table before sauntering towards her couch, "Fine, I'll give you the shirt back later."

He snorted, "I don't want it back, I was just making a point." He fell onto the couch besides her, leaving a foot of space between them.

She crossed her legs and reached for the remote, "You don't have to stay…"

He shook his head, "Yes I do."

"No you don't, so stop playing the martyr." She snapped, annoyed that she couldn't figure him out.

"Addie, I'm staying, so shut up and deal with it." Spike retorted.

"Mike…" She said, tasting his name on her tongue and somehow it felt more intimate. He was sitting on her couch, if she just leaned over—no. She wouldn't, she couldn't; it was just his crisp clean smell that was so intoxicating and his husky voice that made her skin tingle.

"Addie…" He retorted, grabbing the remote from her hand and turned on the television, muting it. "Are we going to talk about today?"

She swallowed, she had been expecting him to ask sooner but still her heart stopped in dread. "About what?"

"Addie." He warned, turning around on the couch until he faced her.

She sighed, "She just reminded me of someone…that's all." She said, steel wrapped around her words.

"Are you going to tell me who?" Spike asked quietly.

She shook her head, "She thought we were going to save her, Mike. She expected us to save her, we are the only ones that could save her and we failed. I was so close to her, Mike…so freaking close." She said, letting out a shuddering breath.

Mike scooted closer, grabbing her hand and cradling it in his larger one, "Addie, you know we can't save everyone." He said, trying not to focus on the memory of his felled best friend.

She squeezed his hand, absorbing the strength from him: "I know that, it's just…the look in her eyes when she accepted death…" She shook her head; she wouldn't obsess about it anymore. Oh, it would haunt her, she'd remember the younger woman's death but she wouldn't waste time trying to reflect on why it bothered her so much. "I'm sorry." She quietly said a few minutes later, breaking the darkened silence.

"Why?" He asked, staring at their entwined hands: Spike knew he should let her hand go, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to. Whenever she was near, the crushing pain of grieving seemed more palatable.

"For reminding you of him." She explained, squeezing his hand. She turned her head and noticed his warm gaze staring at her intently and her gaze lowered to his mouth. She licked her lips and saw in her peripherals that his gaze followed its path, her breathing becoming laboured by his closeness. She reared away from him, clearing her throat and gently pulled her hand out of his, "You should leave." She kindly said a few minutes later after she felt composed enough to speak.

Spike cleared his throat, "Why?" he asked and she closed her eyes against the heavier husk of his tenor voice, she had to distance herself from him, regardless of how painful it was and would be.

"Because I can't do this, Mike. I can't stand here and pretend that we're just friends: that we're just teammates." She explained, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Why can't we be both?" He asked, wishing she'd turn around and face him.

Addison shuddered, gods: when had her life become so melodramatic? "Because I want more, Mike." She cast over her shoulder, summoning up the courage before saying, "All I'm asking is you give me some time and space." She turned around, her eyes blurring with unshed tears, she was an emotional car crash but damn it, she was trying. And that was all that mattered.

Spike moved closer to her, seeing her glossy eyes and forced himself not to reach out and grab her, "For what?" His own voice impossibly husky from holding back confused emotions.

Addison stared at his chin: if she looked in his eyes, she'd break, "To get over you. Please."

He stared at her just as her phone range, "Hello? Okay, I'll buzz you in." She said not meeting his gaze.

Spike sighed, "Enjoy the pizza." He said quietly, walking out of her apartment before he said something that he might regret later, shaking some sense into her because damn it, what she was feeling…was he feeling it as well? He didn't know, he was a bundle of confusion: he needed time to think, and she needed space.