A/N: Look down. '2 years later'…you're probably thinking 'whaaaaaaaaaat?' In which case, that's exactly where I want you to be.

Let's refer back to Chapter 22, and I'll re-post and edit what I call 'The Space-Time Continuum'.

We are sadly in the final season of Flashpoint. This means by estimation, we can assume that the first season of Flashpoint took place in the year 2007. Following? - because now I'm going to get technical. Wordy left Team One in the 4th Season, however, if one would watch the episodes from season one to season four, we see the environments change seasons (as in fall, winter, spring, summer) approximately 3 times.

By this estimation, we can assume that Wordy left Team One in 2010.

Blah, blah, blah- Chapter 21 was in July 2010, and with the time modifier in Chapter 22 ('2 Years Later'), that would bring us to July 2012. Add the '2 Years Later' below, and the time in-between, brings us to approximately late November/early December 2014. I'm in the future now.

Get it? Got it? Good.

Don't get it? Leave a review or send me a private message and I'll see if I can dumb it down even more.

Sadly, this is the final Chapter for A New Beginning. Don't be sad- be glad!, because as A New Beginning ends, a continuing fic The Middle of Us will start.

2 YEARS LATER

Everybody told me this would be a good idea. Is it? To me, it's just a bunch of words that means everything to me, and nothing to everybody else. They told me it'd be the only way I'd heal- the only way I'd get better. I kept on telling them that I was already better. It's been almost three years since dad died. I am over it.

Or am I? No- I am over it. I have to keep telling myself that- positive reinforcement. Although, is it really positive to keep reminding me that I'll never see my father again, for the rest of my life? Ok, so it's not exactly ideal, but it keeps me grounded and checked into reality.

Reality. It reminds me of what is real, and what is not. I keep remembering that shivering cold day when I was at the hospital with Sara, after she was raped when I received the call of my step-mother committing suicide. Was that real? You bet it was, because the memory of it is forever engraved on my mind. Hopefully Kristina will never remember that day. Speaking of Kristina, I should really check on her.

Kristina was fine. Sleeping, actually. I love it when she sleeps. I don't mean that in a bad way either, but it's nice and quiet around the house when she's sleeping. Everybody is quiet for the baby, and the baby isn't making noise either.

Not like Kristina makes that much noise- she just talks a lot. Seriously, my sister does not shut up. She spent an hour yesterday talking about cookies. I blame the Cookie Monster on Sesame Street for that. I suppose I could talk for a while about some things too- namely my shooting range results at work, although its usually Sara who listens to it, as Kristina usually couldn't care less and would prefer to babble on all day of the newest topic on hand. Today's topic? Her blanket. Although today, she was less the talker, and more like the answerer. I blame Sara for enabling her. 'Is your blanket soft?', 'Is your blanket warm?' and other such questions were asked, followed by an overly enthusiastic 'Yes!' reply from Kristina.

I saw Greg today. He wanted to read this journal. Since it was sort of his idea I start writing here, I let him. He liked reading my thoughts, but he commented that I need to discuss what he calls the 'elephant in the room' that happened in the past two years. More like elephants in the room- yes plural. I pointed out that it's hardly a discussion, because it's just me writing out my thoughts. He was adamant that I do it, so here it goes. He suggested I start after mom's suicide call, so let's start there.

Thankfully, Ed and Brad were quick with the high tactical suicide extraction from the roof. They managed to literally lasso mom into a harness which prevented her from jumping. I am forever thankful to Ed for this, as he saved my mother's life.

After that, Brad left the team. He had mentioned before about not fitting in, so he left the Toronto Police Services entirely and joined up with the local Royal Canadian Mounted Police task force. Anyways, let's get back on track.

Mom went to the hospital. She was admitted into Mount Royal Psychological Rehabilitation Centre to combat her depressive mental state, in which the doctors quickly diagnosed her as clinically depressed.

Meanwhile, outside the psych ward, Sara was recovering from being raped. She bounced back fairly quickly, but it took her a long time to return to trusting people, which prevented her from going back to work. While she was off we continued connecting and got serious. I moved in with her.

Since Mom was still at rehab, we stayed at Mom's place on Alexis Street. Since I'm Kristina's legal guardian, I was under legal obligation to care for her. I didn't mind doing it either, because c'mon, she's my sister.

There's a lot more to write, but I'll write it later.

Alright.

So where were we? We talked about mom, and about Brad, so we're not even 30% done. Great.

So Sophie's doctor was giving her about a month to live. Ed took the entire time off, and even personally appealed Clark's house arrest so he could be with his mother. After about 3 weeks in the hospital, Sophie succumbed to the effects the brain cancer was having on her body.

Me and Sara went to the memorial. It was very sad moment in Ed's life. He announced at the reception after Sophie's cremation that he was going to transfer into a training officer position at SRU. He had told me privately the reasons why. Sophie was the world to him and Clark, and he knew that for the rest of his life he wanted to be there for son, Clark, and his 5 year old daughter, Isabel. Clark was coping well with the death of his mother, although I had told him that if he ever needed to talk, that I would be available, as a friend. Clark was pouring his mind, body and soul into his studies and had completed a fast tracked college program and received his Bachelors of Science in Nursing. Just last month, he took a job as Day Surgery Lead Nurse at St. Patrick's Hospital. Isabel just started school, and is already showing traits of leadership and seems to be fairly smart too.

That's enough sadness, although there's more of that to come. Let's talk about something happy.

Spike. Oh, god, yes, lets 'discuss' Spike, aka: Michelangelo Scarlatti. The man with a new rank. I'll explain the new ranking later, but Spike loves it. So does everybody else. He told me that for the last 4 years he's been trying to ask Winnie out on a date, and that she kept on turning him down. Anyways, long story short, Spike doesn't take no as an answer. He asked her out again. This time she said yes. They've been dating for the last year. It's not against SRU Policy because Winnie is a dispatcher.

And now Spike's rank. Well, Greg took his early retirement, although I hardly call that retirement. He stops in at the barn at least once a week, if not more, and he still sits on the Strategic Response Unit Board of Directors. What a guy. So Spike got Greg's position as Sargent, and got two more chevrons stitched on his shirts, and I got Ed's old position as Team Leader- both because he recommended me and that I was democratically elected Team Leader. At least now I can say Ed's catchphrase, 'Democratically elected, so I can make autocratic decisions.'

Speaking of democratically elected- that's a good story. Dean, Greg's son had completed his Criminology course, but changed his mind on what he wanted to do in life- he wanted to be an SRU Officer. He started with Team One a little less than two years ago, around the same time that Brad left, Ed transferred and Greg retired, with the same stipulations on how I started. He was Officer in Training Dean Parker, and all he needed was a years' worth of SRU experience then he could challenge the entry exams. He's a bit older than I was when I started, so I still hold the record of the youngest officer in SRU.

I still have more to add, but my hand is getting sore.

You bet it is - Sara. XOXOXO.

Thanks Sara. I guess she's been reading this, and decided to get in on the last entry.

Sara was able to go back to work about 5 months after her 'incident' two years ago. I decided to go with 'incident' now that I know that Sara is reading this.

Not that I care, I just don't want her to be reminded of that horror when she does read this.

About a year ago, when mom was still at Mount Royal, I had seen Kevin Wordsworth's memorial column in the newspaper. His disease had caught up to him. I didn't know him as well as I should have, but I went. I apologized for my mother's absence, although everyone understood. But not me. The doctor reported that she was doing well and was coming to terms, so I didn't see why she couldn't be permitted to leave for one day to be at the funeral service for one of her old co-workers and close friend. Greg explained that although she was doing well, that by informing her of the death of Wordy while she remained in the facility they could closely monitor her reaction, as there was a chance she could mentally relapse into a previous depressed state of mind.

She had been at Mount Royal for a year. A year for crying out loud, and the most I heard that she was doing well. I wanted to visit her, but the doctors had a strict no visitation policy on my mother. They apparently wanted to control her environment, so they could properly diagnose and treat the depression.

To be honest, I'm getting sick and tired of writing my thoughts down. I hope I see Greg soon, so I can tell him his idea is stupid.

Apparently, according to Greg, I'm being childish in saying that writing in the journal is stupid. Well, it is Greg- stupid stupid stupid. How much clearer can I make it?

Whatever- I guess I'm missing a few elephants.

So, we had three people on Team One. Sargent Mike Scarlatti, as he prefers to be called now, although I continue to call him Spike because I know it pisses him off. Me- Team Leader Megan Perrasmith, also known as Textbook- the name Mike calls me when I call him Spike. He tells me that my nickname is more factual, because he doesn't spike his hair anymore like he used to. And finally, Officer in Training Dean Parker. We were one member short of being reinstated as an SRU team. To tell you about the final member of SRU, we have to back up 2 years.

2 years ago, Sam Braddock was unemployed, and was currently rooming in a halfway house. His parole officer told him that he needed to get a job or he'd be going back to jail.

He applied to several security positions, but they refused to hire him because of his new criminal record of when he assaulted me, and stole my credit card and my car. He was so desperate that he even spoke to his father about reenlistment in the military. His father put in a good word, but even the military didn't want him, because of his record, and that fact that Canada now had no active campaigns for a Special Operations Long Distance Marksman like Sam Braddock.

So he came to me. Initially, I didn't want to talk to him, because I was still kind of afraid that he might try the same stunt again. He told me that he was completely apologetic and sorry for his actions in how he treated me. He said that he had taken the liberty of talking to the SRU Commander. Apparently the commander was OK with Sam coming back to SRU, on the stipulations that he needed to issue a written apology to both me and the SRU administration for his behavior and that I would need to rescind the restraining order.

I accepted Sam's apology, and Sam came back to SRU. He wasn't scot free though- he was considered to be a new hire and would have to take all the examinations and interviews again. It took him almost a year and a half to finish everything, and once he passed everything, he came back to Team One as an Officer.

With Sam back, we had four officers, and were reinstated for duty, except for one tiny detail. We had to have a Team Leader election, although I had been considered the Team Leader since Ed's transfer.

Dean voted for me. Mike voted for me. Sam voted for me. It was unanimous. Even Sam, a man who had been an SRU Officer for nearly 6 years and had previous military experience wanted me to be his Team Leader. That meant a lot to me.

Alright one last entry, and I'll be done all the metaphorical 'elephants'. I kind of see Greg's point now, that saying this is stupid, because in reality, it isn't. It helps me deal with stress.

So after her attempted suicide, mom had been admitted to Mount Royal Psychological Rehabilitation Centre. After a year in the facility, the doctor reported that she was doing well; although he had a slight emotional backslide when they told her that both Sophie and Wordy passed away. Because of this, she was still considered clinically depressed. Because of her emotional response to the deaths of Sophie and Wordy, they tagged on an emotionally unstable modifier to the clinical depression meaning she wasn't clear just yet.

I had fought the system hard, and with several appeals, I managed a visit with my mom, on the grounds that it was emotionally improper for a mother and her infant child to have little to no emotional connection.

So Kristina and I made the trip to Mount Royal, which is in Sudbury, Ontario. Mom was doing well, although she had lost her girl-like innocence. You could tell that the rehabilitation was tough on her. She had huge weight swings. At the beginning of treatment, she had gone on a hunger strike, refusing to eat. It had been so bad; she had been moved to the local hospital's psychological ward so they could install a feeding tube. Other times, she had over-eaten and gained considerable weight. When I visited, she was a bit on a chubby side, but not as extreme as the doctors had told me it was. Her hair was beginning to go gray at the roots. At first, mom didn't recognize me. She thought I was an undercover nurse with a 3-year old girl.

Maybe seeing me and Kristina was all she needed, because after that, Jules was out of Mount Royal in a months' time. She couldn't move back to Toronto just yet, as she needed to go through their month long public re-integration program.

So five months ago, mom moved back into her home at 17452 Alexis Street. Me and Sara stayed with her for the next month, to make sure things were ok, and they were. By that time, mom's hair was nearly half gray, so I helped her dye it back to her natural color, although it's a bit darker than we suspected. She got back into shape, and started back at SRU as a dispatcher last month.

A/N: And thus ends the first segment of what I'm now calling 'The Perrasmith Saga'.

That's right. A saga.

So keep your eyes open for my new fiction,The Middle of Us due out probably sometime before the year is up.

Cheers.