AN: Thank you all for your sweet reviews! I realized that I might not have the timeline for Greg and Marina exactly right with this fic, but just go with it—it's going to end up being an AU anyway. :) Enjoy this chapter! Don't own Flashpoint.

Chapter Two

The next day turns out to be much better than I expected. I'm kept just busy enough dispatching for Team Two, getting all my paperwork done, and helping Sarge when he comes in to take care of some extra work that was left undone yesterday. Usually he goes into the briefing room to take care of his paperwork, but today he sits at my desk with me and we chat in the free moments I have from helping Team Two out with their jumper call. Sarge is so much happier since his son Dean came to live with him, and since he met Marina. I know he was really lonely for a long time, but he has a family now. I envy him.

I have a family, at least by blood, but we've kind of fallen apart in recent years. My dad was a police officer for twenty-eight years, married to my mom for twenty-six of those. My brother Joel was born a year after my parents got married, and I followed two years later. After me was my sister Kaylee when I was three, and then my twin brothers, Jacob and Liam, when I was five.

A week before I joined the SRU I found out that my dad had been having an affair with a woman at work for two years, a fellow cop young enough to be my sister. That same week he left my mom and quit his job to run off to Hawaii with his lover. Joel sided with our dad, and I haven't spoken to either of them since.

My mom moved in with Kaylee and her husband Nate after the divorce, but now she's living in a hospital because she has breast cancer. It's stage 4. I talk to her once every couple of weeks; I never talk about anything too heavy because I know how sad she still is, and how her life has been destroyed.

Jake started a band once he got out of high school and they travel around playing at different shows. Liam's about to graduate with a degree in engineering; he's talking about moving up here to live near me. It'd be nice to actually have some family to spend time with. I tell him I'll find a girl to set him up with, and that does more to convince him than any of my other pleading.

I'm fast enough today. The team does everything right. The girl doesn't jump, and if that doesn't make the day great, I'm not sure what would.

Sarge is almost done when I get off shift at five. I tell him I'll see him tomorrow and go to the locker room to change. I'm meeting Leah at the diner down the street, but its pouring rain outside and I forgot my rain jacket. Hopefully the rain lets up before I head home. I have a feeling it's more likely that crimes are committed when it's raining because people aren't paying attention, so I'm doomed biking down my street. Goodbye, SRU. You'll be getting a call about me tomorrow.

"You're all bundled up, Win," Sarge comments laughingly when I come out. He takes in my three layers of sweaters, boots, gloves, hat, and scarf with a gentle grin.

I give him a sheepish smile. "It looks pretty cold outside."

He nods and leans back in his chair. "You want me to give you a ride? It's no trouble."

I shake my head. "I'm just biking to the Green Café to meet Leah; it's not that far. Thanks, though."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, Winnie."

I pedal like mad on my way to the diner, almost get run down by a bus, and slip on my way inside, narrowly catching myself (literally) on a drain pipe on the side of the building. I stagger inside and immediately spot Leah sitting at a corner booth, looking disgustingly dry and put together.

"Hi," I greet wearily, flopping into the booth like I just biked twenty miles, rather than just one.

"Nasty out there, huh?" Leah asks, a smirk on her face as she takes in my bedraggled appearance. "I would have given you a ride, you know."

I shake my head. "I didn't want to have to go back later for my bike. So," I pull myself into an upright position and fold my hands, "how was your day off? Get lots of laundry done?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it was thrilling." Suddenly her eyes light up and she leans forward and grabs my hands. "Actually, you know what, it was thrilling. I think I met the man of my dreams at the Laundromat."

I can't help but raise my eyebrows skeptically at this sudden bit of news. "Oh yeah? What's this dream guy like?"

Leah sits back and gazes dramatically at the ceiling as if searching for the perfect words to describe the man. "His name is Zach, and he said he lives a couple blocks away from me—"

"You told him where you live?!" I hiss, just as the waitress comes over to take our order. Connie's one of two waitresses who works here at this time of day, and she and I are on a first-name basis. After chatting a bit about how awful this weather is and how her husband's been sick with the flu bug that's going around, we order. I get a hamburger with chips and a cherry coke, Leah gets the soup special of the day, Italian sausage, with some French bread and green tea. Once the waitress leaves Leah turns back to me and rolls her eyes.

"I checked him out first, quite thoroughly…"

This time I roll my eyes at all the innuendos that sentence contains.

"…both physically and personality-wise. I surmised that he wasn't a creep, and we had a good conversation while waiting for our underwear to dry."

I laugh. "Well, if that isn't a good foundation for a relationship, I don't know what is."

Leah isn't offended by my teasing—she gets a lot more than that from the guys at SRU. "So says the girl who hasn't been on a date in, what, a decade?"

I shrug and give Connie a smile as she comes back with our drinks. "I don't do dates with guys I don't know well. Tried that all through college, and look where it got me—nowhere."

Leah gives me a look like she just doesn't understand me. "Come on, Win, just let me set you up with someone; I'll find a nice guy!"

I shake my head. "Sorry, Leah, but I've sworn off casual dating. I'm not getting any younger, and I'm not about to waste my valuable time getting to know some scumbag just because someone I know set us up."

"Hey, I'm older than you, so don't you be talking about age, and I wouldn't set you up with a scumbag!"

I shake my head. "You're not old, Leah, and I know you wouldn't set me up with a scumbag, but I just don't do blind dates anymore. So tell me more about Zach McDreamy."

This gets her off my tail, and for the next hour I'm regaled by Leah's tales of how handsome Zach is, and what a great conversationalist he was, and how he asked for her number and promised he'd call. We're almost done with our meal when suddenly her phone rings. She shrieks. "He's calling!"

"Well, answer it!" I urge. Ridiculous as I think Leah's fascination with this guy she just met is, it's exciting all the same. I roll my eyes as Leah takes a moment to adjust her earrings before she answers the phone. "He can't see you—just answer the phone!"

"Okay, okay!" she hisses, motioning for me to shut up as she carefully flips her phone open. "Hello?"

"What's he saying?" I ask, more for the fun of making her flustered and miss whatever Zach's saying than actually wanting to know. She waves her hand frantically in the air in a gesture that I guess is supposed to mean I need to be quiet. I shrug and take another bite of my hamburger while making faces at Leah to try and make her laugh.

I'm done with my whole meal, and half of Leah's, by the time she gets off the phone. "Oh my God, what on earth were you talking about?" I moan, clutching my head dramatically. "I think my head's going to explode from all the giggling."

Leah scoffs at me before giving me a huge grin. "He wants to go out tomorrow night! Isn't that great?! We're going to go to that new restaurant on Pikeman, you know that Greek one?"

I grin; I can't help but get caught up in Leah's excitement. "Is it fancy? What are you going to wear?"

Her eyes widen. "I have no idea. He mentioned maybe going to a few clubs afterwards…you want to come over after work tomorrow and help me get ready?"

"Sure," I reply. I'd planned on using tomorrow night to put together a bookshelf that I ordered online, but my books can sit on the floor for a couple more days. I glance at the clock on the wall—six twenty-seven. "Oh, Leah, I have to go; I promised my neighbor I'd take care of her kids for her tonight."

Leah nods and gulps the rest of her soup down. "Let me give you a ride, Win; you shouldn't be biking by yourself this late at night."

I think about this for a moment. I mean, Leah already knows I live in a dangerous neighborhood; I might as well take her up on it, just this once. "Just this once," I respond. "You sure my bike will fit in your car?"

She nods and waves at Connie so we can get our bill. "We'll get it in there somehow."

Somehow doesn't even begin to describe our efforts to get my bike in Leah's car. We try and fit it every which way, but in the end I pretty much just have to lean forward, lay my head on the glove box, and peek up every once in awhile to tell Leah where to go.

"Oh my God, Winnie!" Leah exclaims as we drive up to my house. "Why have I never given you a ride before? It's a miracle you haven't been shot a dozen times over. And riding your bike!" She shakes her head and tsks at me as she cranes her head to get a view of my neighborhood. "I'm not letting you bike home at night anymore, no way. I'm your chauffeur now."

I grimace at her reaction and shake my head. "Leah, I'm fine. I took all the self-defense courses, I'm very aware of my surroundings."

She gives me a look.

I sigh. "Fine, you can give me rides home, but you have to promise you won't tell anyone else on the team about where I live. The last thing I need is a bunch of over-protective men—plus Jules—trying to invade my life in the name of my safety."

Leah shakes her head and gives the neighborhood another good look, mumbling something that sounds strangely like, "Spike would die if he knew you lived here."

"What?" I ask.

She shakes her head quickly. "I'm just always going to be worrying about you now. But," she continues hastily as I glare at her, "I know you can take care of yourself."

I nod. "That's right. I won't let you drive me home, ever, if you start acting like my mom." I pause as I get out of the car and go to the back to start wrestling my bike out. "Actually, my mom doesn't really care anymore."

Leah doesn't comment on this; she's either too distracted in her searching the streets to spot our soon-to-be murderers, or she hears the pain in my voice and decides it's not the time to broach such a heavy topic.

As soon as I get my bike inside the house and send Leah off, I go to the other half of the duplex and knock on the door. Christina is my next-door neighbor, and we went to high school together. It was by pure coincidence that we ended up living in the same house, but it's a great situation. We get along really well, and I take care of her boys, five-year-old Mason and three-year-old Ezra, some nights when Christina has to work extra shifts at the retirement home. She's a nurse for patients at the end of their lives.

"Winnie!" Christina exclaims as soon as she opens the door. She gives me a big, Christina-like hug and gestures for me to come in. "The boys are just getting the rest of their things."

Christina's house is a lot homier than mine—there are toys all over the place for her sons, pictures on the walls of their fun times together; I can smell the scent of their dinner that they must have just finished. The only pictures I have at my house are ones without my dad—I got rid of all those when he tore our family apart. I almost never make meals for myself other than sandwiches and cereal; it's too hard to cook for just one person.

Christina goes to the base of the stairs and calls, "Mason, Ezra, hurry up! Miss Winnie's here!" She comes back over to me and gives me a tired smile. Christina from high school was bubbly and pretty much the life of the party, but after her marriage and subsequent divorce, she's not as bubbly. I think she's happier now with Mason and Ezra, but she more of a mom now—she's too focused on taking care of her kids and doesn't really care about partying anymore. "Thank you so much for taking care of them—you know I wouldn't ask unless I really needed it."

I nod; the only reason Christina ever takes extra shifts is when money's really tight. "Don't worry, Chris, you know I love spending time with the boys." I grin as the little ones come racing down the stairs and over to me. "Hey, boys!" I give them both big hugs. "You ready for a fun night?"

"Do you have any marshmallows at your house?" Mason asks immediately, remembering that we made s'mores the last time they spent the night with me. He's the one who looks like Christina—dark hair, dark eyes—and I just can't get over the gap in his teeth from where he just lost his first tooth. Ezra's quieter and looks like his dad—lighter hair and blue eyes, with a chubby little body that I just love to cuddle. Thankfully he's a cuddler at heart too.

"Mason!" Christina exclaims. "You'd better be happy with whatever Miss Winnie has at her house, young man; did you even say hello?"

I wait for Mason to say hello before admitting that, yes, I do have marshmallows and we can each have one s'more before we all go to bed tonight. I laugh at the boys' subsequent excitement and glance at the clock, which now reads seven oh two. "Oh, it's time to go; Mommy has to go to work!"

Christina gives the boys hugs and kisses, tells me she'll be home by five forty tomorrow morning, and dashes out the door to get to the hospital by seven thirty. I gather the rest of Mason and Ezra's stuff and lock up Christina's house before we troop next door to mine. They rush to put their backpacks in my bedroom and then dash back downstairs.

"Miss Winnie, we ha' s'moes now?" Ezra asks, holding his arms up to me so I can pick him up.

I nod and scoop him up for a hug while I tousle Mason's hair. "Yep, it's almost bedtime for you two, so we'd better have those s'mores now. Mason," I continue as we walk into the kitchen, "the marshmallows are in the pantry; go see if you can find them." I set Ezra on the counter. "Your job, young man, is to not fall off of here; got it?"

Soon we have our marshmallows roasted—I make sure to keep them both far away from the stove because I'm terrified of them getting burned—and go into the living room to eat our s'mores and read some books. Mason brings me the books he brought—"The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and "Green Eggs and Ham"—and we make our way through the books slowly, with frequent interjections and comments from both boys.

Once we're done with our s'mores and have finished the books, it's about time for Mason and Ezra to get ready for bed. We all troop upstairs to take a bath, comb hair, and brush teeth. All this takes another hour because they're wound up from the sugar in the s'mores, and I want to let them play while they're taking a bath.

By eight forty-five, I finally have Mason and Ezra all tucked into the makeshift bed on my bedroom floor. We decide it isn't necessary to tell their mom how late they're going to bed tonight. We read "Green Eggs and Ham" one more time—they don't want to go to bed, so they talk even more this time around—and I give them both hugs goodnight before I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed myself. I hear them chattering and playing, but I know they'll eventually put themselves to bed, and they're fast asleep by nine thirty when I crawl into the makeshift bed next to Ezra. They don't like to sleep alone, so I usually sleep with them; I worry too much about them anyway if I'm not with them at night. They could just wander off without my knowing, and that's a terrifying prospect.

The floor's really hard and uncomfortable, and I don't get the greatest night's sleep. Ezra wakes me up a couple times because he's scared, and needs a drink of water, and needs to go to the bathroom. Every time I have the boys over for the night I'm reminded of how hard Christina's job is—she must be exhausted all the time.

I get up at four thirty to take a shower and get ready for work, and the boys are up by five. I get them dressed for the day and we eat breakfast together and pack up their things before Christina comes home. She's knocking on my door at five forty, I give her and the boys hugs all around, and I'm biking to work by five forty-five so I can get there by six.

Probably should have given myself a bit more time, now that I think about it. I'm in such a hurry to get to work on time, I'm not paying attention to the curbs. I wipe out a couple hundred feet from the SRU building, successfully ripping my jeans, cutting up my knees and palms, and even knocking my forehead against the pavement.

"Winnie!" Jules shrieks as I come into the locker room. I was able to avoid people on my way into the locker room, but I can't be missed once I'm inside. "Are you okay?!"

"Fell off my bike, I'm fine," I mumble with a wave in Jules' general direction as I walk over to the mirror. Ouch. Maybe I'm not so fine. I can feel blood running down my legs from the cuts on my knees, and there's blood about to run into my eye from the cut on my forehead. I grimace as I brush away some gravel that's embedded itself into my face.

"I'll get the first aid kit," Jules offers, rushing out of the locker room like a woman on a mission. I hear her excited tones as she runs into someone from Team One outside the door. Crap. I mean, I know it's kind of hard to hide a head wound, but I at least had some miniscule change before Jules went blabbing to everyone.

"Winnie, Jules said you're bleeding all over the place!" Leah exclaims as she rushes into the locker room and comes to stand in front of me. I'm trying to peel my ruined jeans off without scraping my knees, but it's not really working. I don't answer her for a moment, gritting my teeth until I finally have my pants off.

"It's just a little bit of blood," I assure her, grimacing as I take in my bloody knees. Please don't scar.

"Sit down, Winnie," Jules insists as she breezes back in. She's holding the first aid kit and a brown paper bag. She thrusts the bag in my direction. "Spike wants you to have his donut—he says it'll make you feel better."

"Aww," Leah expresses, giving me a wink. I roll my eyes.

I peek into the bag while I sit down and let Jules start doctoring my knees while Leah focuses on my head. Chocolate glazed with sprinkles—my favorite. Which is strange, because Spike and I had a specific conversation about donuts once, and he told me he doesn't like sprinkles, just the icing. It's almost like…nah, Jules said it was his donut.

"Oh, your poor bloody knees," Jules says softly as she cleans me up.

I grin and mimic her in an English accent. "My bloody, bloody knees."

I tell my co-workers that they'd better go faster than they've ever gone binding up someone's wounds because I will not be responsible for making all three of us late to work. Jules rolls her eyes and goes even slower, going on and on about how Sarge is more concerned with my wellbeing than any of us being on time to work. I glare at her and tell her she's a horrible person.

Finally my knees are all wrapped up, I'm in my loosest pair of jeans, and I have a nice strip of gauze taped to my forehead. I look pretty battered. I try not to limp as I walk to my desk, but it doesn't really matter because Jules and Leah are bordering either side of me like a pair of mother hens. I couldn't be more noticeable if I was wearing a chicken costume and playing a banjo.

All the Team One men are gathered at my desk, apparently waiting for me. They hurry over when they see me.

"Winnie, are you okay?" Spike asks, leaning forward to peer at my forehead. "Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"That doesn't look so good, Win," Ed agrees. "You sure you're okay?"

I nod and try to get past the team to get to my desk. This is so humiliating. "I'm fine, everyone go about your business." I punctuate my words with a limp that brings them all huddling around me again.

"Make sure you take it easy today, Winnie," Sarge urges as he takes my elbow and guides me to my seat like I'm eighty years old. "If you start feeling dizzy or just feel like you need to go home, call your backup."

I nod and wave my hands at the team to shoo them away. "Don't worry, I'm fine; just a couple scrapes."

There aren't any hot calls today, and that kind of sucks because the team sticks around for hours, doing paperwork and working out and hovering over me. Every time one of them walks by they ask if I'm okay. I'm having a hard time responding politely.

After awhile Spike brings his paperwork over to my desk so he can sit with me. He does that pretty often ever since we started actually becoming friends and hanging out outside of work. I'm up to my eyeballs in transcripts that Sydney didn't get a chance to copy yesterday, and Spike's working on some paperwork for a complicated hostage case a few weeks back. We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"How's your bike?" Spike asks at last. He hates doing paperwork—always tells me he'd rather drink mud with a straw than have to do this because it's so boring.

I shrug. "I didn't really get a chance to look at it. It's probably okay. As long as I can make it home, it's good enough for me." I can't hold back a huge yawn. Now that I'm all settled at work and the adrenaline's worn off, I'm remembering how tired I am from my night with Mason and Ezra.

"Are you okay?" Spike asks immediately. "If you're tired, you might have a concussion; let's go to the hospital."

I laugh and give him a look. "Spike, don't be such a worrywart. I just had a hard time sleeping."

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Late night, huh?" I catch a weird look in his eyes, like he's bracing himself for the answer. I decide it's just my impending concussion; Spike has no reason to have anything more than minor interest over how I spend my nights.

I shake my head and laugh. "I had my neighbor's little boys over while she was working an overnight shift. They're only five and three, so they had a hard time sleeping."

There's another weird look, but this time it's like relief.

I definitely have a concussion. I'm trying to profile Spike of all people—he's probably pretending to give me all these looks just to play with my wannabe profiler head.

"Winnie Camden likes kids," Spike remarks slowly, breaking into my insane line of thought. "Do you take care of them often?"

I shrug and set my paperwork aside for a moment. After the morning I've had, I deserve a break. "I went to high school with their mom, so we're pretty close. She's divorced, has to work overtime a lot to make her house payments. I get along really well with her boys, so I usually watch them when she works evening or night shifts."

I shift my legs under my desk and hear a crinkly sound. I remember that I forgot to eat Spike's donut. I grab the bag from under my desk and hold it in front of him. "Want some?"

He grins at me. "I'm the one who gave you that, you know."

I shrug loftily. "I know. I just thought I'd be magnanimous in return for your generosity." I squint at him as I pull off a piece of the donut and put it in my mouth, careful to keep from getting icing all over my face. "You told me you don't like sprinkles."

He gives me that incredible grin like he can't believe I remembered that bit of information, and shrugs. "I just thought you might like a donut." He gestures in the general direction of my face. "Good day to think of you, I guess."

I nod slowly, fighting to keep my feelings from just being on open display all over my face. From his steady gaze, I know I'm probably failing miserably. Am I blushing?! It's like I'm sixteen again.

I go back to my paperwork and eat my donut in silence.