AN: So, here it is. A bit longer than the last so hopefully it will be worth the wait. As always I'm so very grateful for your support! Please enjoy.

Constructive criticism is very welcome and I hope you will enjoy!

Warnings: For now, just my rusty English skills. Oh, and I've never been to Canada, and know nothing of real police work and such stuff. A bit of swearing, some violence, not too grim I think. Also, from here on, there might be spoilers.

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from Flashpoint is NOT mine.

Firefly - Chapter eight

I barely manage to catch myself, by grabbing a conveniently placed tree, before my face gets too friendly with the ground. Get up, keep moving. I continue my escape, maneuvering between trees and bushes, narrowly missing low hanging spider webs and God knows what else as the last of the daylight dies out. The sun going to sleep below the horizon. It's too quiet, no obvious persuaders. But I know they're there and probably too close for my liking.

The ground is soft under my feet, pulling them down, drawing my energy. My legs burning. Light now gone, replaced by a darkness more compact and suffocating than in the closet I used to hide in as a child. I stumble on, convinced that I'll fall and break my neck, or run of a cliff, until the moon finally graces me with its presence. The sharp light coming down in columns through the treetops, shadows twisting and moving as the forest comes to life.

Just outside the line of my vision I see eyes glowing, silhouettes too sharp to be shadows, to real to be creations of my fucked up imagination.

Shit what was that! Nothing, keep running!

I stumble yet again and a branch hits my face, a colorful curse leaves my lips as the metallic taste of blood flows over my tongue. There's a sudden noise somewhere behind me, sharp and way to close. Shit! I sprint forward before turning left; hoping I somehow can shake it off. Every breath is painful as it rasps through my throat, sweat stings my eyes and all the small cuts I didn't knew I had. Blood heavy in my mouth, for some reason it feels like I've run into a wall.

I'm jumping over a fallen tree as a scream tears through the night, the sound catching me off guard and I freeze. It echoes and comes back from a second direction, much closer, and I take off again. Give me a break will ya!

I don't get more than a hundred meters before the world seems to be twisting out of control, the instinctive thought that I had, once again, stumbled, tore through my mind before the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that I was, indeed, falling.

O hell n...

I wake up on the freezing floor next to my bed, face pressed against the floorboards, heart racing and ribs aching. Muttering under my breath with my eyes still closed I sweep blindly over the floor until my fingers make contact with a bottle of water and I slowly roll over, working my way up until I'm sitting with my back against the side if the bed. Why can't I ever have a nice dream, with shiny rainbows and unicorns…or rainclouds and pizza, I'm not picky. But my nights are often plagued by the memories I would be happier without, or nightmares with no connection to reality. Though most of the time, it's both, jumbled up like a cheesy B horror movie. People say there are prescriptions for problems like this, as if I don't have enough addictions without adding perscripted sleeping pills to the mix.

My alarm goes off ten minutes later, still muttering under my breath I climb to my feet and stumble to the bathroom for a freezing shower. The cold water succeeds with what neither nightmares or alarm could and after five minutes I march out to the kitchen fully awake and ready for the new day. As long as I don't think about what day today actually is everything will be fine.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Shut up! I'm awesome and I will be fine.

…Well, at least you have time for breakfast.

Actually I have time for a second breakfast too if I wanted, Hell, I even have the food for it. I stand for a minute or two allowing myself to simply marvel over my fridge and the somewhat decent food that have slowly been replacing my liquor over the year. I close the fridge, carefully balancing eggs and milk on one arm as I reach for the flour and maple syrup in the cupboard with a big grin. Pancakes it is. And coffee, lots of coffee.

6, 40 I walked through the doors to the SRU building ready for my first day.

I haven't been this nervous since that first day of elementary school, and thinking about it, that day ended in my first fight and three days detention.

Let's not repeat that.

From the second I walked through the doors I felt the creeping feeling of countless eyes monitoring my every step as the walls seemed to close in to swallow me whole. So keeping my head low and a white knuckled grip on my duffel bag, I all but sprinted the last bit to the front desk. The young woman behind it looks up as I come to a halt in front of her. Her eyes narrowing in suspicion before spotting the badge hanging around my neck.

She smiles then, but it's a bit forced, she's not happy to see me, but is trying to be professional about it. We both know the reason I'm here is still too painful and I won't hold it against her. So instead I smile, though I'm sure it looks more like I'm in pain, and hold out my hand to properly greet her. She takes it without hesitation and I'm grateful for the smile I receive in return, softer this time and she points me towards the corridor to our left. I nod my thanks, hurrying past to avoid the two men coming from an office to our right. As I walk down the small set of stairs I hear her take a deep shaky breath before answering the ringing phone. I have no trouble finding the locker room, sneaking past the gym and hiding behind a cleaning cart to avoid further human contact before having changed and calmed down a bit. Yes, I am being utterly ridiculous. Well aware. Thank you.

Standing in front of the mirror I study my new uniform, the stone grey clothes feels very different from the dark blue ones I have been wearing the past five years. Tougher, made for hard work. I look ridiculous, nervous and way too young for the letters stitched on my chest. I am nervous, painfully so, and now standing alone in an empty locker room my usual devil-may-care game face is nowhere to be seen.

Damnit!

Reading Lewis Young's file and incident report the night before might not have been one of my brightest ideas. Leaning against the counter I close my eyes, the smiling face of Lewis floating around at the front of my brain, dancing behind my closed eyes. A couple of years ago I wouldn't have given a fuck what people though, but this was different, taking the place of their dead friend and teammate put me in a bad position from the start.

Taking one last look in the mirror I straighten my uniform jacket and walk out the door, not really sure if I'm ready to meet my new team or not.

Maybe running for my life would be the best option after all.

Just outside the gym I spot my new boss, he stands half leaning against the wall with a file in his hands and a somewhat troubled frown over his face. The knowledge that that's probably my file he is reading does nothing for my racing heart and I send a quick prayer that, at least, I have my game face on as I approach him.

Deep breaths.

"Sergeant Greg Parker? I'm Christina Torreno." I offer my hand to the fatherly looking man now in front of me and to my surprise he takes it without hesitation. His grip is firm, his smile open and warm despite the tired look in his eyes. "Christina, welcome to the SRU. How does it feel, wearing the cool pants?" I smile, appreciating his relaxed tone and friendly approach. "They are very comfortable Sir." The questions at the back of my mind can wait.

Just, be nice.

Parker starts to walk down the corridor. I follow close behind watching his back, I'm not really ready to walk side by side with this man yet. "Are you ready to meet the team?" he turns to look at me and I'm surprised by the serious look on his face. "Usually the whole team is a part of the tryouts; we have never had anyone appointed like this before. But I imagine it's not that easy for you either, thrown in like this." I blink up at him, honestly surprised. "Is this not how it's usually done?" he shakes his head, looks surprised I wasn't aware that my admission wasn't protocol. Though I've had my suspicions. Then he smiles again, it's a discussion for later. "C'mon, time to meet the team." I walk in behind Parker, using him as a shield as long as possible and the debriefing room feels way to small as five pair of eyes turn towards us and as Parker continues towards his chair I freeze, tension lies thick in the air and the fight or flight instinct makes my hands tremble. None of the above is an option.

I slowly sit as Parker introduces me, heart slowing as I go for my third and only option, defense. I feel the calm, neutral mask slide in place just as they turn from Parker, my back straight, head held high. My hands have stopped shaking. I meet their eyes as they are introduced, connecting faces and names with the information I already know. I've done my homework. I know their names, their preferred positions. I know they are a tightknit unit and nothing I can say will make anything better, won't change anything, and honestly I'm probably better off not saying anything. But I guess my otherwise excellent survival instinct went on a temporary vacation.

"I'm sorry for your loss." And that got their attention didn't it. They turn back towards me and even though I still look calm, almost cold, I internally flinch. "I won't say that I understand, cause I don't." My voice is low, flat and detached, but honest. And that honesty is probably the only thing keeping them from jumping over the table and giving me a piece of their distressed minds.

This was a bad idea.

It's the truth.

But still a bad idea.

"I've never lost anyone, until a few years ago I've never had anyone to lose." Kyle flashes by in my mind, behind him stands Cody in the pink jeans I bought him, looking splendidly offended and I have to suppress a grin. That, if anything, would be inappropriate. "Pretending to understand the feel of your loss would be nothing but disrespectful, so I won't. I won't pretend, and I won't try to take his place. I will take my own, I'm not a team player, this whole situation is new to me and honestly I have no idea what to do." I lock eyes with the dark haired man to my left; I can almost see the words dancing at the tip of his tongue, burning behind the dark eyes. But anger is something I know how to handle, especially others and I know my whole stance have changed. "But if you want to talk about it, meet me in the gym anytime, and I'll hear you out." Yes, I did just challenge the entire team to fight me. Good start kiddo, good start. At least I got a smile out of my team leader. That of course could have been my imagination. Then the silence is broken by the alarm sounding through the building.

"Team one, hot call!"

Parker stands and we all follow suit, duty calls.

That went well…

Shut up!