A.N. Thank you all so, so much for your positive feedback about the last chapter. I'm glad it didn't bog down too much, but please let me know if these next chapters do! Again, I focus mainly on Ed, but there will be a bunch of Spike in just a few chapters. I'm also not a medical expert, anything I know, I have learned from the internet and other fanfics. Please forgive me any mistakes.
And of course, I don't own Flashpoint. Sadly.
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Ed entered the room, with Greg at his side, and stopped. He'd known what to expect—the doctor had warned him—but even so, it hurt to see his teammate so pale, fighting for his life. Sam was lying in a bed, the sheets pulled up to his mid torso, surrounded by machines of all sorts. An IV attached to his hand was giving him much needed fluids, and (even worse, in Ed's view), there was a tube down his throat because they weren't sure he could breathe on his own.
Greg had already moved into the room and was murmuring something to Sam, but Ed just stood there, frozen. He could not reconcile this silent, motionless person with the man he knew. His gaze fell on the bandages wrapped tightly around Sam's chest. He could see dark bruises peeking out from beneath them, around the ex-soldier's shoulders where the harness had saved his life. Those were less hard for Ed to handle, after all he preferred bruises to the alternative if Sam hadn't been wearing his safety line.
He saw Greg glance back towards him, prompting him to move his feet and walk over to his teammate. "Hey Samo," he called softly, unsure of what exactly to say. He looked to Greg for guidance, something he'd rarely done, and was met with a calm, reassuring stare. He was struck by their role reversal—just hours before, it was Greg panicking and Ed giving the reassurance. He closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. He felt Greg clasp his shoulder, squeeze gently, then move away. By the time Ed opened his eyes, the door to the room was swinging closed behind Greg's receding figure.
He turned his focus back to Sam and blew out a breath. "Hey Samo," he spoke again, his voice a little stronger this time. "We both know you're getting out of that bed on your own two feet. You hear me? And we both know that you're gonna be back to work and being a pain in the ass in no time; you've got to, because there ain't no way in hell that I'm dealing with Spike and his antics all by myself… he's probably still planning revenge because of my comment about him being as harmless as a fly; you've got to help me escape whatever he has planned." He broke off, feeling the humor fall flat in the still, hospital air. A sigh escaped his lips. "Anyway Sam, you just rest now, you've earned it." He headed towards the door, but turned right before he exited and added, "The hostages are all safe. It was a good idea to go through the windows, I'm just sorry that meant you got hurt… it should be me in that bed, I should've been the one to take the east window… just get better Sam."
The following days were a blur of hospital, home, medical talk, and stoic faces from each member of the team. The briefing right after they'd gone home from the hospital the first day had been tortuous; everyone was either blaming themselves, or trying to stop people from blaming themselves. Spike was insistent that he should have gotten the woman's file sooner, Greg knew he should have been able to read Maclaney and figure out what was going on, and Jules thought she should have located the sniper more quickly. Wordy kept trying to tell everyone that it wasn't their fault—things happen and it was out of their hands—but no one had been listening. Ed kept his guilt to himself, listening to his teammates tear themselves down before he'd finally had enough. He'd stepped in and yelled at them—he wasn't proud of that part, though in hindsight it had worked—that this was not helping themselves, nor Sam, and they all just needed to realize there was nothing they could have done and move on. They'd disbanded shortly after. He knew he was a hypocrite, because while he urged them to let go of it, by no means was he prepared to let go. Given the circumstances, Greg managed to get them excused from duty for the first few days, but after the fifth one with little change in Sam's condition, they all had to resume work.
Greg had eventually been able to overcome his guilt, recognizing that he'd done his best and Maclaney and Harrison had just been too well prepared. It helped that he recognized guilt was not helping anything, and in fact, it just made everyone else mad. He kept working on helping Jules do the same, and he was making progress, but it was a slow process.
Spike, on the other hand, refused to be persuaded. Ed tried many times to corral him in a corner and make him hash it out, but Spike was as slippery as a fish and somehow kept escaping. Ed resigned himself to waiting, knowing that eventually the Italian would fail to sneak away from him. In the meantime, Ed spent all of the free time he could at the hospital. The staff had come to know him, and sometimes even let him stay after official visiting hours. Sam had been moved to a private room, and today, they were going to remove the respirator, so Ed had asked them to wait until he was able to be there in the evening, after shift.
The day had been long and stressful; they'd been called out three times, with a fourth false alarm. Ed arrived just in time and slipped into the room, to the side and out of the way of the nurses and doctors who were taking final stats.
The doctor who had given the team the first update (Ed later learned his name was Dr. Nile), met Ed's stare and nodded to him. "Everything looks good and we're just about ready. We've drastically reduced the drugs we've been giving him, hoping that he will wake up, but he hasn't shown any signs yet. If he can breathe on his own, however, that will be a big step towards healing."
Ed hummed his understanding and nervously watched as they began to remove the tube. He'd gotten used to the unsettling sound of the respirator (or, as used to it as he ever would), but he was glad that it was—hopefully—no longer required. Sam, for his part, looked only slightly better than when he'd first been admitted: he was still incredibly pale, and the bruises and bandages both stood out considerably.
Everyone took a step back as the tube was replaced with a nasal cannula. A collective breath was held as the machine reading Sam's oxygen levels beeped: he wasn't breathing.
"Come on Sam," Ed murmured, worry creeping into his voice, "Breathe."
Ten seconds passed, twelve… then Sam's chest moved as he took in a deep, shuddering breath. A huge sigh went around the room and people began filtering out, job accomplished, until it was just the two SRU Officers left. Ed let out a forceful breath before pulling a chair over to Sam's bedside and sitting down. He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back in the chair, trying to get as comfortable as possible.
"Everyone's been blaming themselves for what happened… I think Greg and Jules are starting to accept the fact that there's nothing they could have done, but Spike won't let me near him; it's like he can smell my reassurances coming. I guess it'll be up to you to set him straight, which is just another reason why you need to wake up soon. Things aren't the same without you, but you never heard me say that." He stared intently at the blond man's face, searching for any sign that what he was saying was being heard, but he saw nothing. Resigning himself to one last tactic, and cringing internally at what he was about to say aloud, he steeled himself. "Okay Sam, you listen up because I'm only gonna say this once, and you can never, I repeat, never, tell anyone I said this… I will deny it to my grave. I admit that your marksmanship surpasses my own, by a long shot." He paused before bursting into laughter and shaking his head. "Absolutely no pun intended! That just sorta slipped out." He sobered before continuing, "Seriously, though, Sam… You've got skills." When he still got no response he sighed and started to close his eyes when he did a double take, staring at Sam's hand; he could have sworn it had just moved. He stared at it for a minute and was about to admit to himself that he'd just imagined it, when all of a sudden, it twitched.
"Sam?" He called, hardly daring to hope that the young man would respond. When there was no further movement, Ed hit the call button anyway and consulted with the nurse when she came in. She told him it was unlikely that Sam would start waking up so soon after being taken off the respirator; it was probably just a muscle spasm. Ed remained unconvinced, after all Sam had already proven that he was determined to surprise people, so he made a phone call to Sophie and told her he was staying at the hospital that night in the hope that Sam would indeed wake up, and he didn't want him to wake up alone. He made sure to call the team as well, informing them of the latest development and promising to call again if anything changed.
Arrangements made, he settled in for a long wait.