AiP informed me that Team Four already has a sergeant in the show, so please come up with some logical explanation for that in your head. Thanks again for the reviews, here's the next chapter =)

The phone was ringing. It was an older phone, must have been. Otherwise the owners had programed a vintage ring on a newer phone, but he didn't think that was the case. It was too loud, like the corded phone was sitting right next to his ear. The noise aggravated his headache. What did he get a headache from?

He tried to think of where he was, why he felt like someone had pistol-whipped him in the head. Except it didn't feel like that. The space right behind his eyes hurt. His ears were ringing, more so than the phone and on a different octave. Nothing seemed to make much sense.

Sam opened his eyes.

He was not prepared for the onslaught of light, color, and blurred outlines that attacked him. He flinched, but with that movement, pain originated from another area of his body, one that had felt weirdly numb beforehand, but Sam hadn't given it much of a thought, since his thoughts were already difficult to string together.

This pain was much more sinister. Where the aching in his head was just that, an ache, in his chest he felt a tearing sensation. He felt a pressure, a sensation of heated metal being branded into his skin and below. He closed his eyes in hopes that the pain would disappear.

"Sam? Are you awake, buddy? Can you open your eyes again?" A voice, collected, calm, sure, everything Sam wanted to feel at the moment said in a low tone, right next to his ringing ears. "Come on, I need you to open your eyes."

For any other person, Sam would have outright refused. He would have had no intention of obeying those orders. For the voice- one that rang distinctively familiar, that reminded him of his time before SRU, one that he had to listen to- he pried his eyelids up the smallest amount, seeing if the pain would increase.

It didn't, not that it got any better, but the blurry images above him slowly came into focus when Sam opened his eyes all the way. He turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw Ed, a neutral expression on his face. That meant one of two things. Sam had either pissed him off majorly or something was majorly wrong. He didn't know which one he preferred it to be.

"What's wrong?" Sam tried to get out. He managed to choke on some of his own spit in the process, making him cough and igniting the fire in his chest to a whole new level. The moment he found himself unable to catch his breath, Ed's hands were pulling him up to a semi-elevated position. Breathing was easier, but moving hadn't been fun.

In this position, Sam could see more than half of Ed's face and the ceiling. He was facing outwards. He was in a grocery store. He tried to think, tried to come up with an explanation of the fire. He looked down, hoping to get a glimpse of the origin of the heat.

From the number of times he had been injured, in the SRU and in the war, he should have been expecting the pool of blood surrounding Ed's hands. He should have known that Ed's hands covered mangled flesh, but nothing prepared a man, or a soldier, for that. Nothing.

Sam closed his eyes, letting a groan escape his lips. If at any moment he was allowed to express weakness, it was laying slumped against his friend in a grocery store sporting a bullet wound. "What happened?"

"You're going to be just fine, buddy, just fine." While Ed was speaking, his eyes kept glancing up and to the right. Sam had to focus. He had to bring himself back into the moment.

He had been stupid to move blindly to the front of the store like he had. He was a trained SRU constable, not a rookie. The moment he had moved in, hands in the air in order to surrender for both Ed's life and his own, he felt the pressure in his chest before he heard the gunshot. He couldn't think back any further than that.

The voices around him were heated. Sam concentrated on the words.

"Pick up the phone and bring it to me," one of the masked men yelled to another. There were four, and there were three other hostages on the floor next to the one yelling. That made five hostages total. The fact that they outnumbered the subjects made little difference when they were armed.

The one closest to the phone grabbed it. He was shaking, must have been new to the game. His black converse only concreted the idea in his mind. Sam wouldn't have been surprised if all of the subjects were under twenty.

He had to concentrate on the words the next subject said, the one who moved up and down the nearest aisle. Still, he only could make out half of what he said. Something about the police and guns. Sam felt increasingly light headed, like he need to lie down and have a long night's sleep. Except that he was laying down, and his lack of sleep didn't explain the feeling.

Ed's eyes kept moving back to Sam. He could feel the pressure of his gaze. From that look, Sam knew that he probably didn't look so good. Then again, neither did Ed. The right side of his jaw had swelled up. It looked just as bad as when his buddy got his jaw broken in a bar fight overseas. Sam blinked to bring Ed back into focus. The world seemed to be pulsating, moving slightly. He definitely wanted this to end.

The job came first though, it had and always would. He looked back to the four subjects. The one who had shouted held the phone now. He was talking to the one who had brought the phone to him. Arguing with him.

One of the subjects started walking toward them, and Sam tensed, regretting the motion as soon as he attempted it. He bit his bottom lip to keep the noise in.

"What are you doing?" The phone was ringing again in his hand.

"You wanna go down for murder?" the second subject said.

He was kneeling next to Ed now. The first subject answered the phone, when the one closer began to talk. "My name's Garret. You're a cop, right?" he looked to Ed. This was not a question. "Do you got first aid training and stuff?"

Ed nodded. "I need some sort of cloth, something to stop the bleeding," his voice made Sam want to be that calm. He could feel his pulse vibrating his body. He was shaking harder than the kid.

Without a second's thought, Garret pulled his ski mask over his head and handed it to Ed. Sam wasn't a profiler. Hell, he was probably the worst on his team when it came to negotiations in the beginning. Still, he was right to guess that this subject was young. His face was youthful. Freckles, shaggy red-brown hair. He was maybe fifteen.

Ed took one of his hands off of the wound. He could feel the sensation of his own blood rushing out. He didn't know if he wanted to puke or pass out. Before he could think through that for more than a moment, Ed removed his other hand and pressed the mask into Sam's chest. His vision blurred and he could feel his muscles spasm on their own accord. He had no idea what sound he made, but after rational thought returned, the look on Ed's face suggested he had made one. Sam was having trouble breathing at this point, unable to reassure the man that he was okay, or at least going to be.

Garret had his hands hovering in front of him, ready to move into action. Sam wanted him to take a step back. He couldn't protect himself by any means. While he didn't look like the type to do much of anything, he didn't look like the type to be robbing stores either. Ed shifted the pressure on his hands and Sam gasped in pained surprise. He felt like child with all the complaining he was making. He was a soldier. He should be equipped to deal with this.

The noise he had made this time drew the attention of one of the other subjects. "Why'd you take your mask off, stupid?" Sam focused on the voices harder this time, ignoring his body betraying him with each rough breath he managed to get in.

Garret had lost a little of the scared sheep look from a moment before when he responded. The kid's emotions were a lot clearer with the mask off. "It's not like it matters. They're not letting us outta here. Right?" Garret looked to Ed.

The other subjects caught onto the glance right away. "Why would he know?"

"Because he's a cop, he deals with this shit a lot, probably."

The one holding the phone paused, as did the other two. "You're a cop?" He turned to Garret. "You knew he was a cop?"

"It said so in his wallet," Garret started to lose his confidence as soon as he had found it. "When I was lookin' over them, there's police ID. He probably deals with this stuff a lot."

Sam didn't know what to think of this development. Under normal situations, he might have been able to guess whether this was good or bad for Ed. Right now, though, the ability to draw upon original thought was dwindling, probably faster than he thought. He was having trouble concentrating, having trouble listening and reacting to the words that were being fired off to one another. He looked to Ed's stony face for instruction, tried to pull on a mask of his own.

"That true?"

"Yes, Tyler," Ed started. "I'm a member of the Strategic Response Unit. We handle high risk situations. I help people get out of situations safely, to minimize risk."

"So you know how the cops work, right? What to say to get them to help us?"

Tyler was moving faster than Sam's eyes could follow. His blurred image drifted from one edge of his vision to the next, like a book of pictures that seem to be moving, but still seemed broken into individual scenes. Sam had one of those when he was a kid. He made it on the corner of his workbook in class. When his dad saw that he was drawing instead of paying attention, he'd gone crazy.

Sam didn't like to think about that too much. His lips fell into a frown without even thinking about it. Ed's face. He needed to look calm, so that he could be calm. He imitated Ed's expression, but he started to close his eyes too. It seemed easier than watching the picture book in front of him.

"I can help you guys, Tyler, but the best thing for all of us is if you answer the phone. The police will think you're not willing to respond if you don't answer." That was Ed's voice. It seemed far away, until it was right next to his ear. "Sam," he said quieter. "I need ya to stay awake for me, okay? Sam, you need to open your eyes."

This wasn't Ed's emotionless voice, or his negotiator voice, it was rushed. Speaking quickly. The difference made Sam feel the urgency to open his eyes to the blurry world again. It was getting harder to breathe, like something was constricting his lungs. He was close to gasping at this point. Not being able to breathe was almost worse than the pain. He needed to stay in the moment. He couldn't get lost in what he was thinking or feeling.

"Who 'm I gonna be talkin' to?" Tyler asked, looking at the phone.

"He's from the SRU and he's going to help you if you talk to him," Ed was back in negotiator tone. There was always a difference in his voice- in Sarge's voice too-when he had to speak to the subject. There was a certain way you talked to a man holding a gun, ready to use it. Sam had learned that before the SRU.

"You work with the guy?"

"My team is off duty at the moment, but this man will be able to help you."

"Who's the guy on your team who does the callin'?"

Sam could see through Ed's mask, only because he had known him for as long as he had. He could see that Ed didn't like where the conversation was going. Ed was talking again, that same even tone that soothed the emotionally charged. It was aimed for the subjects, but Sam focused on the tone too. He tried to make his breathing be like Ed's voice. Calm, even, deep. His body refused, but the mindset helped.

One minute Tyler was near the counter, the next he was next to the hostages. He was closest to a girl, young, in an employee uniform. He had a gun pointed to her head. The situation had escalated. Spit fell from Tyler's mouth as he yelled.

"I want the name of your guy!"

Ed nodded. "His name is Sergeant Greg Parker of team one."

Sam could hear the tension in his voice, the want to jump up and save the girl, even in the dire circumstances.

There was a megaphone outside. Although Sam didn't make out the words, he knew the negotiator was asking him to pick up the phone. There was silence, a break from the emotion from before. Sam's mind assessed his body involuntarily. He was cold, but the pain in his chest had gone from unmanageable back to the heavy weight. He didn't know if this was a good thing, but Sam didn't really care at this point.

The phone rang again. This time Tyler picked it up. "I will only speak to Sergeant Greg Parker. Don't call unless if it's him."

Then he put the phone down. Sam blinked and he was back next to the other hostages, closer to him. Ed was looking at him again.

"You're doing just fine, Sam. Just hang in there. We'll be home soon." Ed's voice was only loud enough for him to hear. Garret might have as well, but Sam decided he didn't really care about Garret anymore. He didn't really care about any of the subjects or the situation as much as he should have.

Sam would have said something back, but coming up with the air to bring words out of his mouth sounded like too much effort. He tried for a smile to say that he understood. If he had thought he was tired at the end of his shift, he didn't know what he was now. The only thing keeping his eyes open was Ed's presence. Ed was on the job, he should be too.

The girl was sobbing, looked like she had been for a while. The older man was sheet white resting against a display behind him. The manager was awkwardly patting the girl's back. He didn't look like he knew what he was doing. Ed was speaking again to the subjects, mainly Tyler. Tyler was leading the show. If he decided to surrender, the rest would follow. Sam didn't listen to Ed this time. He was focusing on keeping his eyes from falling shut again.

"You're going to pick up the phone when Greg calls." Tyler's voice surprised Sam back into semi-alertness. "He's gonna get me what I want 'cause you're in here." A thought seemed to dawn on his face. "Garret, check if the other guy's got a wallet and a phone."

Ed protectively moved in between Garret and Sam. Sam's eyes tried to track the movement. Ed couldn't go far though, with his hands still pressed to stop the bleeding. Sam didn't feel that anymore. Garret whispered something, something he couldn't make out though. Then there were hands touching his pockets.

He had thought that he had exerted all his energy simply breathing, but the probing touch made his adrenalin rush. There was no thought in the action. He jerked his body away, surprising both Ed and the touch. He had been numb seconds before, but everything fell away the moment he moved.

Now on his side, all he could feel was the pain. He didn't feel Ed's carefully maneuver him back into his old position. He didn't feel the Garret's hand grabbing his wallet or Ed reposition the mask over his chest. He didn't know that the movement erased all the clotting his body had worked on.

There might have been voices overhead, fighting.

"Tyler, you gotta let him go, he's gonna die."

"Look, he's a cop too, but you're on the same team. Greg's team. I ain't letting him go."

He didn't notice himself start coughing again, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You need to listen to Garret, Tyler. His name is Sam and he is seriously injured. You still have me and the other hostages. You still haven't killed anybody yet. You need to let Sam get medical attention."

He didn't notice much of anything after that. The voices drifted away. Even the pain, something he thought was going to haunt him for the rest of his life, however long that was going to be, began to diminish. Sam might have heard a voice next to his ear again, repeating that he was going to be okay, but that he needed to stay with him. That he couldn't close his eyes, couldn't go to sleep.

Sam stopped thinking about the voice. He stopped thinking about the store, about where he was and the condition he was in. Instead he thought about his bed, laying in it. He thought about working out with the team, about the feeling he had laughing at the team bashing Wordy on his movie choice. He focused on anything and nothing.

It wasn't so bad, nothing like before. He didn't let go because he would never do that. Instead he relaxed and stopped thinking. He'd hold on. He would as long as he could, but right now he just needed a break from the spinning world and confusing voices, from the ringing in his head and his shaking muscles.

Once he took a nap, he'd be able to help get out of the situation.

I can never resist a little whump. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. If so, tell me why. If not, tell me why… lol. I'm probably going to say this at the end of every chapter, but reviews mean so much to me so please take the time to leave one! Thanks!