Revelations, Vulnerability, and Exhaustion

Toronto General – Sixth Floor Private Conference Room

Greg waited for his team after receiving a text from Commander Holleran to report to the hospital and go to the private consultation room on the sixth floor. He was the first to arrive, and he ran through many possibilities … some good, and some bad, but stopped his conjecture since it didn't settle his mind. Better to wait to see what was up.

Pushing the door open, Ed peered at Greg. "Do you know why we're here?"

"No. I'm sure we'll be told as soon as everyone arrives."

"I hope Sam hasn't taken a turn for the worse." Ed paced, unable to sit … worry spiked when he got the text … one that left the field wide open.

Several minutes later, Jules entered at the same time as Wordy, having ridden up the elevator together after meeting at the front entrance. Both read Greg and Ed and realized no info would be forthcoming from either, so took seats to wait … impatiently.

Spike burst into the room with concern written all over his face. "Is Sam, alright? Did someone else go after him?"

"Relax, Spike." Greg put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't believe that is the case."

Blowing out a breath and raking fingers through his hair, Spike nodded. "Yeah, wasn't thinking. Another Team would be here if that happened. So what's up?"

"I'd like to know too," Lou said as he strolled in wearing shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. He got the text while at the boxing gym, needing to work out his frustrations over this whole affair. Angry with himself for not being a better teammate to Sam. He had been reviewing how they all treated Sam, especially the first time they ran him through negotiation scenarios … none of them had coached him … only taunted him.

"Join the club," Ed ground out as he stopped and stared at a piece of abstract artwork on the wall. It just looked like some five-year-old spilled paint and did a poor job of wiping it up. He wasn't the artsy type … that was Sophie … Clark got his musical talent from her too.

Everyone turned when the door opened again, and Dr. Ferguson entered. He took a moment to scan the members of Sam's team before addressing them. "Thank you for coming. Commander Holleran indicated you are off shift, but I don't believe Sam expected you this soon."

When Ed started to open his mouth, Obidiah put up a hand. "Please, hold your questions. First, let me express my thanks for your efforts this morning. I have had time to consider the ramifications of arriving earlier than I planned. Mr. Clarkson appeared surprised to find me in the room and made a comment I wasn't supposed to be there until eight thirty, and he expected Sam to be suicidal … which he is not.

"I wondered for a while how Clarkson would've come by that knowledge. Mrs. Braddock reminded me we spoke in the hallway near the staff lounge last evening. She shared her concerns with me after finding some worrisome items in his hotel room, including the letter Sam wrote to Ben. The one Ms. Callaghan found in the folder. I told Sam's mother I would be by at eight thirty. I bid her goodnight, and she entered the breakroom to grab Sam a treat.

"While in there, she noted a plumber working on the sink. From her description, it was Mr. Clarkson. Our poor choice to speak in the hall provided Clarkson with the information he needed to go after Sam. He planned to kill Sam in his room and make it appear he took his own life … thus getting away with murder."

Obidiah took a breath to allow them time to absorb what he shared thus far. "Audrey is extremely distraught she played a role. I assured her she isn't at fault. She had no way of knowing Clarkson worked here or that he held significant animosity for Sam. Nor is she responsible for Clarkson's actions. The man made his choices and sadly paid the price.

"Mrs. Braddock wanted to express her gratitude to all of you for saving her son. She would be here in person, but as I said, this whole ordeal took a toll on her, and she is resting this afternoon per my advice. As for Sam, I'm not sure what he recalls or not. He has been quiet since being moved to his new room.

"I request that you go easy and slow with Sam since he is still somewhat groggy from heavy-duty pain medication. Allow Sam to guide the conversation. I will remain here to allow you to work things out as a team, but please get me if Sam needs my help. Okay, I've said my piece … do you have any questions?"

Greg scanned his team, noting the slight shakes, so he said, "No. Thank you for the information regarding how Mr. Clarkson became aware of Sam's presence here."

"Tomorrow, Mrs. Braddock will give a formal statement for the record, as will I."

As Boss and Ferguson spoke, Spike reviewed what the psychologist shared and honed in on an item which concerned him. "Doctor, I have a question."

"Yes."

"Sam is living in a hotel? Why?"

"Perhaps you might want to pose your question to him?"

Wordy picked up on another tidbit after Spike asked about the hotel. "What other items concerned his mother? You only listed the letter. Is there anything we need to be concerned about … I mean for his safety."

Ferguson peered at Wordsworth, noting Sam's impressions seemed to be correct again. "No, I do not believe so. Though, perhaps …" he trailed off not wanting to break patient confidentiality.

"Perhaps, what?" Ed asked.

Having discussed the team members at length with Holleran to ascertain if returning to Team One would be in Sam's best interests, he decided to share one item. "Perhaps you as a team might want to present him a small welcome gift … a tangible token, letting him know you want him to stay on the team."

"Like what? You seem to have something particular in mind." Jules waited, hoping she inferred correctly.

"Sam owns a Colt, given to him by his father or grandfather, I can never recall. It could use a safer place to reside than his nightstand."

Lou let out a low whistle. "He's staying in a hotel and left a gun on the bedside table. Please tell me it is unloaded."

Obidiah shook his head. "He has been dealing with so many emotions, overwhelmed at times, exhausted by constant turmoil as he tries to rebuild, he has not been making the best choices. His mother indicated the hotel manager said Sam asked that housekeeping not to enter his room and they abided by his wishes.

"I didn't have a chance to ask Sam about why it is loaded and its position, but I have many soldiers as patients, and when they first return from deployment, there are habits that are hard to break. Having a loaded weapon for protection within ready reach is one of the more common ones. But Sam isn't in the field now, and you could help him with taking a step in the right direction."

Greg sighed. "We will. Thank you for your openness. We have amends to make."

"I won't keep you any longer then. Sam is in room six-o-eight." Ferguson took a seat, and the six exited.

Toronto General – Room 608

Fighting the pull of sleep, his mind exhausted from berating himself for all his failures and wishing like hell Ben was here for him to talk to, Sam's lids kept lowering. But every time they closed, images assaulted him. Nightmares would be a sure thing tonight, and to avoid them, he might just claim to be in more pain than he was so they would dope him up on the good stuff … at least enough so he didn't wake screaming like a banshee.

His eyes moved to the lunch his mom sent up … not hospital fare. It was from his favorite restaurant. Though the burrito smelled enticing, he had no desire to eat … didn't think he could keep anything down. Thoughts of being the reason Dr. Ferguson almost died this morning kept his stomach churning as did what he would say to the team when they arrived.

He sighed. At least I have several more hours before they are off shift. Perhaps I'll come up with the right words by then. Turning his gaze to the window again, Sam didn't acknowledge the door opening, expecting it to be his new nurse. He sort of missed Reba … although efficient, the new one wasn't as pleasant.

When no one approached his bed, Sam turned towards his door. He blinked. They are here … already. Shit. He sucked in a breath as they moved forward as a silent unit and stood in a semi-circle near the end of his bed. Sam moved his eyes from Sarge, Ed, Wordy, Lou, Spike, and stopped on Jules. Unable to form words, Sam only stared, waiting for one of them to speak.

Spike wanted to blurt out he was sorry but held his tongue because Dr. Ferguson said to let Sam lead the way.

The awkward silence dragged out so long that in the end, everyone in the room started to speak at once. They all stopped, not understanding the mix of words, then again spoke over each other. Greg put a hand up towards the standing members of his team to halt them, and turned to Sam. "You first. Whenever you are ready, take whatever time you need … no rush."

Sam drew in another long breath and released it on a four-count to settle his racing heart. Gaining courage, he focused on Greg. "I'll understand if you want me off the team. I'm a screw-up… and now you all know."

"WHAT THE HECK? NO, YOU AREN'T!" Spike blurted out.

Ed gave Spike a stern glare. "Spike, let Sam speak. You'll have your turn." He turned his blue eyes on Sam, wanting to interrupt himself, but he would abide by the psychologist's request. Because, quite frankly, they had all failed at listening to Sam and that needed to change if they were going to repair their team.

Sam's gaze locked on Ed's. "I told you what happened, and it was never a secret … just not something I'm proud of … I should've known it was Ben. I screwed up that day and killed my best friend. Ben Matte and me had been buddies since high school. I miss him every day."

Jules slowly moved forward, unconsciously wanting to be closer to assuage his pain and grief. She stopped when her hip touched his bedside. Her brown eyes connected with his blue orbs and she had to forcefully stop herself from reaching out to hug him.

Sam swallowed hard. Jules is beautiful … sexy … everything I want in a woman. He pushed his thought away, inhaling deeply through his nose and breaking contact with her, moving to peer at Wordy. "My first day with SRU, I almost got you killed when I sent up the heart." Shifting to Lou, he said, "I can't negotiate myself out of a wet paper sack."

Lou bowed his head as he murmured, "That isn't on you. We didn't mentor you."

His gaze turned back to Greg. "I questioned you, Sarge. I didn't know shit, and I believed you were wrong with your call with George. I screwed up at Brighton too. I should've recognized I was overheated, made sure I hydrated, watched my foot placement. So I understand if you don't want me on the team. You didn't choose me … you got stuck with me. My dad pulled some strings … and I went with it, because well, I couldn't go back to JTF2 after killing Matte.

"No one trusted me afterward. Well, a few, but they were my only friends besides Ben. Most of them believed the general paved my way into JTF2. They might be right … sort of … I should've washed out of the swimming portion, but somehow passed. Ben said they probably wanted me for my marksmanship skills, and there wasn't much need of swimming a desert.

"Thanks for saving me this morning … and Dr. Ferguson. And for getting me out of the vent. I wish things were different … I wanted something different, but I guess I don't have what it takes to wear the cool pants. I'm a one trick pony. All I'm good at is taking out targets.

"So, yeah, that is what I wanted to say. Thanks for letting me be a part of your team for a little while, and saving my life … twice, and I'll clean out my locker as soon as they release me from the hospital." Sam lowered his eyes to his lap, the sheet becoming his only focus as silence again dragged on.

Ed, Lou, Wordy, Spike, and Jules all shared glances … none quite knowing how to respond. Their guilt surged forth, Sam's current despondency weighing heavily on their psyche. All their gazes then turned as one to the man they all trusted to find the right words for them. A man with insight and compassion, grit and determination, mentor and confidant, Boss and unofficial father or uncle of Team One … Gregory Parker.

Wanting to reach up and pull off his hat, a tick he developed in the field, but not having said hat, Greg moved a little closer to Sam whose eyes remained downcast. Sam's exhaustion apparent to even the most unobservant person … shoulder's slumped, the way his lids kept lowering. And Greg was aware Sam was on strong medication. He also gleaned from Sam's words an unusual vulnerability … one which appeared to be foreign to the young constable.

Though Greg could understand why, especially given all Sam endured since his best friend's death, and this morning would shake even the sturdiest of people to the core. A soft smile formed. This brash former soldier would beat the odds because he possessed an inner strength. And because six hearts wouldn't let him fall into the abyss.

The thought of hearts brought the pink fishing rod to mind. Sam's first call set a tone, one he was not proud of, and one Ed berated himself over. And in recent days, Jules shared in confidence she wished she had not asked for a coffee and intervened, and Spike came to him and admitted he only laughed instead of stepping up to mentor Sam as everyone had for him when he joined.

Greg closed the distance and set his hand on Sam's shoulder, surprised when he didn't flinch or acknowledge him at all. Pitching his voice soft, Greg said, "You are tired to the bone, Sam. If you want, we can talk later, when you're rested."

Sam turned to Greg, his weariness showing. His voice hitched, "Just tell me … if I'm off the team."

The single tear which slipped out of Sam's soulful eyes undid Greg almost entirely. Some might question his move, believe it too personal, but at that moment, Greg knew beyond a shadow of a doubt his action to be right, to be what Sam desperately needed. He pulled Sam to his chest, tucked Sam's head into the crook of his shoulder and wrapped his arms around the anguished young man.

While embracing Sam, Greg whispered, "You are a member of Team One and shall remain one if you choose. Rest now. Sleep, we'll be here when you wake." His eyes met Jules' across the bed as the coiled tension began to ease out of Sam's body, and he noted welled tears in her brown eyes as she hugged herself … almost as if she wanted to be the one holding Sam.

Greg maintained his hold, but would let go if Sam pulled back … he didn't. After several minutes, the soft breath on his neck evened out and the greater weight leaning against him indicated Sam slipped off to sleep. He sustained the contact for several more minutes, and after he gently lay a sleeping Sam back on his bed, he turned and found all eyes on him.

Ed's voice came out gruff with emotion, yet soft so he didn't wake Sam, "We … I … hurt him and need to fix this."

Keeping his voice low, Greg said, "We will."

As Sam slept, the others milled around the room. Spike found a perch on the window sill and gazed out at the city. Jules never left her spot beside Sam's bed. Greg pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. Wordy stood at the end of the bed, his hands gripping rail with white knuckles. Lou sank to the floor in a corner, and Ed paced like a caged lion.

One hour turned into two, then three, and by the fourth hour, Sam's nurse had come and gone a few times, checking his vitals and wounds. Dr. Ferguson popped his head in, took stock of the situation, smiled, and told them he would check back later. And Sam never once stirred, so Team One settled in for the long haul, willing to wait, no matter how long Sam slept.

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AN: Sam is a little OC, as my beta reader noted, but that is on purpose. Who wouldn't be off-kilter after all Sam went through, and add in pain meds and exhaustion ... well, insecurities are bound to pop out. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next up will be their talk plus a few more things, but don't want to give them away.