Facing Death on His Terms

Toronto General – Fifth Floor Nurses' Station – 8:20 a.m.

One arm slung over Ferguson's shoulders, and the other over the other man's, Sam took halting steps down the hall towards the elevator. He kept his eyes on the ground as instructed because the business end of a gun was pressed into Ferguson's side by the hand supposedly around his waist to support him. If Sam had been alone in the room, he would've fought back, took his chances, but he wasn't so he didn't when Ferguson's life was threatened.

Reba glanced up from her paperwork, surprised to see Sam coming towards her … on his feet instead of a wheelchair. He wasn't supposed to put any weight on his leg, except for the short distance from his bed to the bathroom, and that was to be done with the aid of the walker. She noted the beads of sweat on his brow, and his body language indicated pain.

She peered at Dr. Ferguson, wondering just what the heck they were doing, but then her eyes moved to an unknown man in scrubs. As they came close, Reba stood. "Sam, what are you doing out of your room?"

Sam clenched his jaw, hoping Reba backed off and let them pass … he didn't want anyone to die, and the man's hate-filled eyes left no doubt he would follow through on his threat if Sam didn't fully comply.

Despite the gun's barrel poking him in the side and a threat he would die if he didn't remain quiet, Obidiah knew he must communicate the situation or Reba would continue to probe and put herself in jeopardy. "Sam needs a bit of fresh air for our conversation. We're going to the atrium, and I asked the orderly to assist me."

When the unidentified orderly told her he was happy to help, Reba pinned him with a glare. "Then you should've gone to get a wheelchair. Sam isn't supposed to be walking too far."

Feeling the hand holding the weapon start to move, worried for Reba's life, Sam lifted his head and met her eyes. "I'm fine." He dropped his eyes again as his abductor's hand moved back, only a threat to Ferguson.

Taking a chance, well aware of security procedures in hospitals for active shooters, Obidiah grinned at Reba, and said, "I'll take great care with Sam. Oh, and please inform Mr. Cody Silver I might be a few minutes late for our session. I don't want him to become anxious if I'm not there on time."

Keeping her composure, things clicking into place, Reba returned the smile. "Sure. As soon as I can. I have a few patients to tend to first. Sam, don't overdo."

"Much appreciated, Reba," Obidiah said.

Reba resumed her seat and appeared to be busy with paperwork, hoping whoever the man was on Sam's left didn't understand the distress code Dr. Ferguson used. She waited until the elevator doors closed and noted it went up not down before she picked up the phone and dialed 911.

SRU Barn – 8:20 a.m.

"You're number one today, only because Samtastic isn't here," Spike claimed as he stared at his groupings on his target, a bit disgusted with his results this morning. Yeah, he was still better than ninety-eight percent of all police officers on the force, but somedays he wished he shot as well as Jules, Ed, and Sam. The latter being the best shooter SRU had seen in a decade.

Ed lifted a brow at Spike's snarky remark, but winced as the action caused him a slight pain … luckily the swelling around his eye had receded enough not to hinder his vision this morning. The brawl at the bar last night resulted in him, Spike, Lou, and even Jules sporting various bruises today. Boss had only chuckled when Spike had quipped they came out the victors.

He tapped Spike's target. "Perhaps you need more time on the gun range and less time with Babycakes."

"Hey, leave my girlfriend out of this." Spike chuckled, ignoring the pull on his healing split lip as he flexed his scuffed knuckles, able to blame his less than stellar performance on a sore hand.

WERP WERP WERP

Their attention focused on the PA system, unsure if they would be the team called out. Winnie's voice followed the klaxon alarm, "Team One, gear up. Potential hostage situation at Toronto General."

Switching on their headsets, recognizing Winnie would already be on channel one, Greg said, "Details," as the team rushed to the SUVs after grabbing their weapons.

"Guys, it's Sam. His nurse, Reba, is still on the line I'll patch her in."

"Sam took someone hostage?" Spike asked in disbelief as he slid into the passenger side as Lou got in the driver's seat. He noted his buddy moved a little slower today … likely due to the tender ribs from several punches that the burly guys landed on Lou's torso during last night's bar fight.

Lou glanced over at his best friend. "Don't assume." He put the vehicle in drive and followed Ed out of the SRU garage.

SRU SUVs - En Route to Hospital – 8:25 a.m.

"She's on the line now," Winnie said.

"Hi Reba, I'm Sergeant Greg Parker, can you provide me more details?"

"I'm not certain what is actually going on. I think someone took Sam and Dr. Ferguson hostage. Sam shouldn't be walking and, well, a man who I've never seen on this floor before claimed to be an orderly and was helping Sam along with Sam's psychologist. Dr. Ferguson said Sam needed some air and they were going to the atrium, but the elevator went up not down like they were going to the roof, but I can't be certain.

"Not only that, but Dr. Ferguson asked me to tell Mr. Cody Silver he would be late for his appointment. Code Silver is our signal for an active shooter. I didn't see a gun, but the man's arm was around Sam's waist under Sam's shirt … he might be armed."

"Did this Dr. Ferguson have a patient by the name of Silver?" Greg inquired.

"No. Ferguson doesn't work here. Sam's parents arranged for him to travel from Ottawa to work with Sam again. Mrs. Braddock indicated the doctor should have full access to Sam."

Jules turned to Wordy as she drove and mouthed, "Again?"

Wordy shrugged. They didn't know much about Sam and had no clue why he might've seen a psychologist before, but it made sense now with his memory loss. His eyes remained a second longer on Jules' bruised jaw, proud of his teammates for sticking up for Sam and not letting Steve bad mouth him.

A part of Wordy wished he had been there too. If he had, perhaps Jules would be unscathed. He almost laughed … he would be sporting bruised biceps if he voiced that thought out loud. Jules didn't take kindly to being viewed as less durable than the guys. And truth be told, she held her own against guys much bigger than herself.

"Did your security cameras capture an image of the man you believe is posing as an orderly?"

"Security only monitors the ICU on the third floor, the entrances, the loading dock, and canteen. The rest of the floors don't have cameras due to patient privacy. I could describe him … a little. White with a slight suntan, about Sam's height and build. Although more muscular. His biceps were massive. He also had light blond hair … lighter than Sam's and blue eyes. I hope that helps."

"Spike—"

"On it, Boss." Spike pulled out his phone as Winnie provided him the direct number to the hospital's security office needing them to scan the available footage for someone who fits that description.

Within the next few minutes, Team One arrived at Toronto General, silent running as they approached, and hurried inside directly to the security room which they commandeered and started setting up equipment. The crucial piece would be to locate the three in question and determine if this was indeed a critical incident.

Toronto General – Fifth Floor Nurses' Station – 8:35 a.m.

Greg strode up to the desk with Wordy and Jules behind him. He stopped and addressed the three nurses, "Which one of you is Reba?"

"Me." Reba waved her hand.

"Has anyone gone into Sam's room since they left?"

"No. And we've locked down all the other patient rooms as a preventative measure."

"Okay. I need you three to go to someplace safe and stay until you receive an all clear."

"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but we must remain here to care for our patients." Reba straightened her spine. "And besides, I'm not certain if I jumped the gun in calling 911. I wouldn't want any of my patients to suffer if that is the case."

Greg nodded. He turned to Jules. "Check Sam's room for any clues."

"Copy." Jules hurried off down the hall.

"What floor did the elevator stop at?" Greg returned his focus to Reba.

"Tenth. That is as far as those elevators go. If they went to the roof they would have to take the stairs from there. But they could've ridden the elevator down again because they stepped into the first one which opened after pressing the button."

Toronto General – Room 513

Jules entered Sam's room and moved to the rolling table when her eyes caught sight of the open folder. She blinked as she found a photo of her … not in uniform … and ones of everyone on Team One. Shifting through them, Jules reported. "Found several pictures … all of us, General Braddock, a lady with blonde hair, one of Steve Hicks and several others who I don't recognize. But by their appearance, they may be soldiers."

Her eyes landed on a piece of paper and her stomach churned as she read the suicide note. "Um, Boss … found something else. I think you need to see. I'm bringing it to you … might explain why they went to the roof. Might not be a hostage situation after all." She rushed out with the photos and paper.

Toronto General – Fifth Floor Nurses' Station

Greg accepted the note and his mouth went dry as he read. The only thing which confused him is the letter was addressed to Ben, and the name Sam gave Ed had been Matt after Ed shoved Sam up against the ambulance. Not Ed's most shining moment.

"Boss, found three potentials from the security footage. Running them through facial rec now, but sending you images … perhaps Reba can recognize the guy … or tell us if it isn't any of them." Spike shared.

"Good idea." Greg pulled out his phone, waiting for the text. When they came through, he turned it to Reba. "Is the orderly one of these men?"

Reba studied the faces of the men who appeared similar … none wearing scrubs. "This one. I'm like ninety percent certain … but he is wearing the hospital's maintenance uniform."

"Spike, the second photo."

"I'm checking against the hospital's records," Lou said as he glanced at Spike.

Greg grinned at Reba. "Thanks for the help." He pivoted and said, "Ed, Wordy, Jules, and I are going to the roof."

"Copy." Ed continued to scan the building's blueprints, needing to have an awareness of the layout to develop a tactical plan if this did turn out to be a hostage call.

Toronto General – Roof

Spent, both legs shaking from the effort of climbing the stairs, unable to bear weight on the injured one, in extreme pain, and sweating profusely, Sam crashed to the roof's cement flooring when Clarkson abruptly let go and moved away. Though Dr. Ferguson tried to keep him upright, Sam didn't have any remaining stamina left to assist. He peered up at the hate-filled man. "You're not going to get away with killing me."

An evil grin appeared as Peter laughed. "Oh, but I'm not killing you … you're going to commit suicide." He waved the gun at the unexpected impediment to his plan. "And you're gonna murder the doc when he tries to stop you."

"I'm not going to do either!"

"Yes. You. Are." Peter focused on the doctor. "You shouldn't have been here … you weren't expected until eight-thirty."

"My lucky day," Obidiah said calmly as he crouched next to Sam. He was glad he came early, or Sam would already be dead. Understanding Sam wouldn't take his own life, former Sergeant Clarkson was forced to improvise instead of staging a suicide for Sam in his room as he initially planned. At least with him here, Sam stood a fighting chance of surviving, especially if Reba contacted the authorities. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Sam lied.

"NO TALKING!" Pointing the weapon at Sam, Peter ordered, "Get up."

"Can't."

"I said get up … NOW!"

"And I said I can't, Jackass. You're just gonna have to shoot me where I am."

Shifting the gun to the other man, Peter snarled. "You don't stand right now … I put a bullet between his eyes."

"Be kind of hard to claim I committed suicide if you shoot Dr. Ferguson. Neither one of us had access to guns." Sam glared, unwilling to cooperate much further. He was unlikely to come out of this alive, so he refused to help this asshole make his murder appear to be a suicide. He wouldn't hurt his parents like that … he was not a coward and would face death head-on … but on his terms … not Clarkson's.

Sam watched as the gun moved back and forth between him and Ferguson, Clarkson becoming more erratic by the second. Then the pistol stopped moving, choosing a target. Sam's fearless blue eyes held Peter's fury-filled ones, unflinching as Clarkson shouted, "You ruined my life!"

BANG!

AN: I'm in my bunker ... safe and sound for now.