"Gotcha!" Spike crowed tossing his headset onto the desk in triumph as he ended a phone call which had given him the exact answer he'd been anticipating. Picking his head up, his eyes immediately searched for Troy, prepared to share the news. His gaze caught on a bit of a commotion in the center of the room and he leapt up and headed straight for it. "Sergeant Westin! I've got something!"

Sure enough, Troy was in the middle of a throng of people whose faces had once been tense and focused, but now were now beginning to break out into cautious smiles. Clearly Spike had missed something.

By the time he had forced his way into the center, Troy was looking for him.

"Sergeant Westin? Has something happened?" Spike asked cautiously, desperately wanting to give in to the temptation of believing that something good was about to come of this day, but unable to let himself believe that just yet, not after everything that had gone wrong not just during this hot call, but in the last thirty-six hours.

"Yes, Constable Scarlatti, but you first. What have you got?"

"The call that Ed made, the one that discovered one of the hostages was scheduled to be in the square today, I just found out that not only was he the only person who was planning on being in the square, it's a weekly standing meeting."

Troy grinned. "So if out theory is correct, then you just found the target."

"Exactly. He's a criminal court judge, a Ben Gaskill, so I've already been looking through his cases, trying to see if someone was recently released, trying to look for someone with a vendetta, but haven't gotten any hits yet, so I still don't know exactly why he'd be a target let alone who would be targeting him."

"Well, you can ask the subject yourself."

"Pardon me?"

"That's what just happened before you came, Lane and Wordsworth radioed that they found the subject and apprehended him."

"They found the…" Spike trailed off, unable to believe his ears. It's finally over? "So the situation is secure? They're going to start pulling hostages out of the square?"

Troy nodded. "Just as soon as we can bring EMS up to the front. We kept them standing-by well back of the square, per protocol."

"Then do you mind if—"

Spike didn't even have to finish before Troy cut him off and pointed towards the square. "Go. Go see to your teammate. Anything back here can wait."

"Th-thank you!" Spike sputtered, before taking off for the door, only pausing long enough to shout over his shoulder, "And send those EMTs as fast as you can!"

(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)

Jack heard the call come in from Ed and Wordy that they'd apprehended the subject and couldn't stop himself from letting out a relieved sigh.

His partner, Travis, slapped him on the back, sharing in his relief. "Glad to have that one done with. This has been a hell of a day."

Jack nodded his agreement. "To say the least."

Without needing to communicate their intentions, they both headed to the west stairwell. Jogging down from the 23rd floor where they had been searching, as they passed the entrance to the 21st, Jack stopped in his tracks and watched in surprise as the door into the hallway from the stairwell slowly finished the last few inches of its journey closed. Which meant someone had just passed through it, only moments before.

The lack of echoes in the stairwell meant whoever had passed through the door had not done so to exit the floor and enter the stairwell, but had gone from the stairs into the hallway.

Jack's partner was already moving to look through the porthole in the door. He turned back to Jack and shook his head.

Now Jack was wondering if they'd both imagined it. After all, they'd cleared this floor already, as well as the floor above and below it, and he knew their partner team searching the upper floors had fully cleared the 25th and 24th when the call came in.

But no, he knew they hadn't both just imagined it. The door had clearly been closing. And given how slowly and quietly the doors closed—Jack had to admire the design—it was possible whoever had passed through it had already made it into a room out of sight of the stairwell door before Jack and Travis arrived there… all that left was, who was it?

"Hey, Burg and Donovan, what floor are you on?" he queried into the coms, thinking perhaps the team searching the upper floors had doubled back this way.

"What are you talking about, Rivers?" replied a confused voice. "Lane said they got the subject; we're in the east stairwell headed down."

"So you haven't set foot on the 21st floor?"

"Negative. Wasn't that your floor to search?"

"Yeah, yeah, Travis and I are just going to investigate something."

At his nod, Travis opened the now closed door and they proceeded down the hall.

Maybe it was a civilian? Jack wondered hopefully. Someone who returned to their office to retrieve something? That's gotta be what it was.

Nevertheless, he and Travis proceeded quietly into the hall, checking doors as they went. And despite everything in him wanting to believe that everything was all right, that this was a false alarm, he couldn't deny the fact that something about it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)

Libby's head shot up when she heard a voice loudly announce through a megaphone, "Attention those in the square. You are no longer under threat. The shooter has been apprehended, please exit the square safely and slowly. You will be directed to the nearest medical and official personnel, where you will be treated and your statement taken. If you are unable to exit on your own, please remain where you are and medical personnel will attend to you expediently."

"Oh my god, do you hear that, Sam?" she demanded, unable to contain her excitement. "This is almost over!"

"Y-yeah, I heard. 'M shot, Libby, not deaf," he retorted weakly.

She snapped her gaze back to him, eyes narrowed.

He raised an eyebrow. "T-too soon for a joke?"

She pursed her lips. "That was a pretty weak joke, Sam." She thought about it for a minute. "In fact, it wasn't even a joke."

She continued meeting his gaze, thankful that he was alert enough to at least attempt levity, until her eyes travel farther down and she saw with dismay that he was bleeding again.

"Dammit! It's about time those EMTs got in here!" she exclaimed,

"Time, yeah," he muttered, eyes slipping down to focus on a blemish in the pavement. "'S about time," he repeated to no one in particular.

She frowned, aware that his speech was starting to slur. "Sa—" she started to call, trying to get his attention again, when she was startled by a person crashing to the ground next to them on Sam's other side.

For one shining moment, she thought it was the EMTs, but her hopes were quickly dashed when she actually got a look at the person and realized it was the man and his young daughter who had been sheltering just a little ways from them, the one who had asked to borrow her phone.

"How can I help?" he demanded, setting his daughter beside him.

Libby stared at him for a moment, unable to comprehend that finally it was no longer just Sam and her, but that someone else was here to help.

"I know he's not doing so well, and it'd be an honor to help the person responsible for the 'Soaring Save,' not to mention what you both have done today—I know you two are the reason they found the shooter so quickly. And I've… I've never felt so helpless as I did when I was just crouched over there, waiting for the next shot… so how can I help?"

"Uh, okay, um, could you maybe take over," she nodded to where her one good hand was applying pressure to Sam's chest. With two hands, she hoped he would be able to provide more.

"Oh, of course," he agreed immediately, quickly covering the hand on her blood soaked jacket with his own.

"Thanks," she murmured, slowly removing her hand, which shook, not just from the effort she'd been expending holding it there, but from fear, too.

She let her good hand rest in her lap, next to her broken arm, and stared at the now drying red stain coating it, willing it to stop trembling.

"I'm Ben," the man told her, clearly trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen.

"Libby, and this is Sam," she gestured to her friend, who was still staring at the pavement, occasionally mumbling something incoherent.

"You two make a hell of a team," Ben told her.

She may have smiled in acknowledgement, she wasn't sure, because it was getting a little difficult for her to focus. Her eyes roved and fell on her phone, which still sat beside Sam.

She slowly reached for it and unlocked it. The screen immediately told her she had over forty missed calls and unread texts. She knew they were all from her parents—no one else had her number yet. She felt guilty that she still hadn't contact them, but keeping Sam alive had been a little more important than telling her parents she was alive but still in a dangerous situation. And with only one good hand, she hadn't been able to do both.

Now she had a hand free, however, so without checking the texts or voicemails, she sent a quick message letting them know she was okay and that she'd be out soon. And that she loved them.

She hit send, blinking back tears. She'd stopped herself from reading any of the texts or calling them, knowing that if she had, her control would shatter and the tears and panic that was starting to trickle its way into her system now that she no longer had to hold it all together, now that it was over, would become a full blown roar and she'd break down. And she couldn't do that. Not yet.

She looked up and offered the phone to Ben. "I now you wanted to call your brother…"

Ben shook his head. "That's okay, I can wait." He paused before continuing in a ramble clearly meant to fill the silence once more, "Who knew today would turn out like this? I come here every weekend, and never could have imagined…"

Libby nodded along as if she were listening, but tuned him out, instead eying the commotion at the edge of the square, waiting for a pair of EMTs to burst through, headed towards them.

She felt Sam shift slightly next to her, but did not drop her gaze from the edge, willing a team to come forward. No one did.

"Come on, come on, can't you move any faster?" she hissed under her breath.

Sam shifted again, this time his hand brushed her leg.

She turned her attention back to him to find that he was no longer staring at the pavement, but trying to look her straight in the eyes; his gaze was unfocused, however, and kept slipping away.

"Time," he murmured. "Th-there-sn't enough time."

Libby's heart almost stopped as the weight of those words sank in. "No, no, you are not saying goodbye, Sam!" she hissed vehemently, reaching to take his hand in hers. "There's plenty of time, we have all the time in the world, you're going to hold on just a little longer," she ordered, leaning towards him as if she could force him to stay with her.

He shifted more, clearly becoming agitated.

The panic she'd been successfully beating back until now started to win. "Hey, stop that! You're going to make it worse, you're going to hurt yourself!" she cried.

"I's about time. T'fast, was too fast, L-Lib," he rambled, pulling his hand from hers which felt like a betrayal, until he rested his hand on her leg and started weakly tapping an odd rhythm she wasn't familiar with.

She stared at his hand as it finished its fourteenth tap and lay still, desperately trying to figure out what he was trying to tell her. "I don't understand, Sam, what do you mean?" she whispered, unable to stop a tear from slipping down her cheek as her friend, her hero, became increasingly agitated and incoherent, only muttering that it had been too fast. Libby couldn't disagree more; ever since the first shot rang out, thing had been moving too slowly. If only she'd run for her bag earlier, if only they'd been able to speak with the SRU sooner, if only the SRU had been able to move a little faster, then maybe, maybe Sam wouldn't be fading before her eyes.

She couldn't change the past, but she could speed things up now. She looked up at Ben who was watching their exchange with confusion. "I'm going to go kick some peoples' rears into gear and get them out here," she snapped, starting to rise.

Sam's hand snatched hers again and pulled with surprising strength, forcing her back to the ground.

"No!" he whispered hoarsely, clearly trying to yell, but unable to as his energy continued to leak out with his blood. "Stay down!"

"Sam," she extricated her hand from his to place it on his face, unable to stop the tears from pouring down her face, "Sam, it's over. It's over," she sobbed.

And finally, finally he met her eyes, gaze fixed on hers. "No. P-please, please," he begged. His eyes were sharp once more; no longer unfocused, they were imploring her to listen and full of panic at the fact that he couldn't communicate with her.

Even though his words were practically incoherent and she didn't understand his panic, she knew this was not just someone losing it: to blood loss, to heat, or to stress. No, this was Sam, who was always trying to look out for her. And even though she didn't understand the why behind his request, she still trusted him completely. With her life.

She settled back down. "Okay, Sam, okay."

(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)

Jack and Travis reached the first closed door on the hall. All of the other rooms' doors had been open, and they'd searched them quickly, without finding a soul.

They stopped outside this door, and Jack placed his hand on the knob, slowly turning it, all the while asking himself, what are you doing? It's over. But a small part of him whispered, no, it's not.

As he slowly opened the door, he heard movement inside. The slightest scuff, perhaps a shoe on the floor, or an elbow on a desk.

It has to be a civilian, someone who got scared and hid under their desk, or came back for their laptop. But the part that had just whispered that it wasn't over, was telling him, that's not a civilian.

(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)

Ben stared at her in confusion as she settled back onto the pavement. "Sam needs help and the EMTs aren't getting here fast enough. If you won't go, I will."

Libby shook her head. "I don't know why, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"That's ridiculous, I'll just run and get them and bring them here," he stated, starting to rise to his feet.

Sam's other hand, the one not holding onto Libby, shot out and grabbed the collar of the man's shirt. Ben was surprised by Sam's actions, and was pulled off balance, falling slightly towards Sam as he continued to try to get to his feet, which jerked Sam upward, bringing their heads almost level as he was lifted partway off the ground, holding onto Ben with strength he should not have had.

Libby's lips parted in a protest, because Sam should not be moving, but even though she knew words left her lips, for a moment she didn't hear anything. Nothing. Then a spray of something warm, wet and red struck her face and she watched in horror as Sam's head snapped to the side.

Then she heard the shot. A shot that tore through her heart as much as it did through the air.

And she screamed.

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.

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A.N. Please do not hate me. I recognize this is probably the worst offending cliffhanger I have thus far inflicted upon you all... I promise I won't make you all wait too long!

Kudos to you all who figured out there was a second shooter from the last chapter :) And as always, thank you for your kind words and sticking with this story!