A.N. First of all, thank you everyone for your support and kind words! I am thrilled that people are enjoying this story. This is a shorter chapter, and you have my apologies for that, but I hope it keeps you entertained.

As always, I do not own Flashpoint and am just borrowing the characters for entertainment purpose only.

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The first thing he felt was the wind. It was ice on his skin. He'd been cold before, but now he felt like he'd never be warm again. He knew his lips were blue, and not just from the chill; he was having difficulty breathing. Sam was pretty sure at least one of the bullets had hit a lung, though he didn't think it'd punctured… yet. He could feel something wet sliding down his side and knew he needed to stop the bleeding, but, no matter how hard he tried, he could not get his arms to move an inch. He was having a hard enough time getting his eyes to open. The pain he felt was intense. It radiated through his entire body, though it focused on his chest. He'd been shot before, back when he was in the army, but not like this… not with two bullets landing in close quarters. Plus, his body had taken a serious whiplash beating when he'd reached the end of his tether, and then subsequently hit the building… hard.

He bit his lip, trying to slow his heartbeat and bring his breathing under control in order to slow the flow of blood. It felt like a fruitless task, but he couldn't just hang there. The wind blew him against the building, none too gently and, each time he hit, it took everything he had not to scream in pain and undo all of the work he was putting into slowing his heartbeat. He could feel a rib shift at each contact, like a knife in his side, and he dearly hoped that it would not move and puncture a lung. As he felt his breathing and heartbeat come under control, he let himself hang for a moment, gathering his strength. He had no idea if his coms were still active or even still attached to him, though even if they were, they would be useless; at the moment, talking was out of the question. Fatigue was pulling at him. He could hear the wind howling, mocking his struggle to stay awake, but he could hear nothing else. He hissed as he bumped against the side of the building, his broken ribs protesting.

He had no idea what had happened, but he sincerely hoped that Ed was okay and that he'd been able to secure the subject and free the hostages. For a moment, he panicked, worrying that Ed, too, had been hit and was bleeding out just a few feet away behind the stupid concrete wall, until he realized the angle at which the bullets had hit him; there was no way a sniper would have a shot on Ed from that position. Relief coursed through him, though it was short lived because he knew Ed was therefore taking on an armed subject solo. He felt his breath catch at the thought of harm coming to his teammate because he'd failed to watch Ed's back, and his heartbeat began to speed up, undoing all of his hard work. Pushing the unwelcome thoughts from his mind, he again focused on slowing his heartbeat, getting ready to attempt the task of opening his eyes.

Meanwhile, though his team had no idea he was conscious (or even alive, for that matter), they'd already begun their rescue operation. Spike was flat on the floor, just close enough to the edge that he could see Sam swinging, and Wordy had his jacket off, ready to move it out the window.

Ed began to rappel down the side of the building, not letting his brain think about what he'd find if he was too late. When he reached where he thought Sam was, he asked Jules to confirm that he was at the right height.

"That's a yes, Ed," she stated, trying to breathe normally though she had a clear view of Sam's limp body. Pushing that image from her mind, she turned her focus towards the building they suspected the sniper was in and scanned, hoping to spot the woman.

Hearing the confirmation from Jules, Ed let out a breath. "Okay, Spike. It's on your mark. You're not gonna be able to count this off, so when you say 'now,' I'm waiting one second for Wordy to move, and then I'm going. Copy?"

"Copy that Ed." Spike's voice was steady, though internally he was anything but calm.

"I'm going to see if I can get through to Sam, so just wait a minute."

"Copy."

Taking a deep breath and sending up a silent prayer, Ed yelled towards the other side of the concrete. "Sam! Hey Samo! You with me?" Silence pervaded. Heart sinking, he tried again. "Sam, if you can hear me, don't make any sudden movements but try to wiggle a finger or something!"

"There!" came Spike's excited voice. "I definitely saw his right fist clench slightly!"

Relief coursed through Ed. At least they knew he was still alive. "Okay Sam, listen up," he spoke quickly, knowing precious time was wasting. "There is still a sniper to the east, so don't you move a muscle! We believe she currently thinks you're dead, and she's waiting for us to come out in the open and get you! Wordy is going to provide a distraction above us and draw her fire, and I'm going to reach around this wonderful, artistic concrete, and pull you to my side out of her line of fire. Okay?"

"His fist clenched again!" Spike confirmed.

"Okay. Spike is going to give me the signal, and then I'm gonna move and I'm going to be moving fast, just fair warning!" He then lowered his voice so that only the people with coms could hear him. "Okay, Spike. On your mark." He waited for an eternity, his mind playing out all sorts of scenarios of what could happen next. If he was honest with himself, he preferred that to the other thoughts that were trying to crowd into his head. Thoughts of Sam bleeding out right beside him, of Sam smiling and laughing at one of his bad jokes, of never hearing that laugh again. As he waited for Spike's signal, he tried his hardest to block out those dark thoughts. Sam was a friend and a teammate, and while Ed hadn't liked him at the start, Sam had wormed his way into the Team Leader's heart and carved out a niche that Ed knew would never be filled if Sam didn't pull through.

"NOW!" Spike yelled, and Ed moved.