Author: SuzSeb PM
It was just a stop to get gas. How much trouble can Sam get in to? Spoilers up through Slow BurnRated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort - Sam B. - Chapters: 11 - Words: 12,438 - Reviews: 74 - Favs: 32 - Follows: 30 - Updated: 06-01-12 - Published: 04-27-12 - id: 8065372
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint...
A/N: And Sam's account continues...
"After hanging up the phone, the subject dragged me back to the end of the counter, but kept me separated from the other hostages. I knew that was a bad sign. I tried to talk to the subject again – tried to calm him down, but he struck me with his weapon and I was in too much pain to continue. The subject was pacing back and forth and I was lying on the floor. Every time he moved past me, he'd kick at me." Sam shuddered briefly. "That continued for about forty minutes. The next thing I knew, the subject was standing over me, kicking and kicking at me. I rolled over on my stomach to get away from the kicks and they stopped. Then the subject used the duct tape to restrain my hands behind my back." For a moment, Sam felt the stabbing pain of his broken collarbone again as it grated together from the gunman's actions. He took a deep breath and pushed the memory of the pain away – as far away as he could.
"Once he had my hands restrained, the subject began kicking me again, until I curled up on my side, protecting my head and stomach. I lost track of what the subject was doing for several moments, but later figured out that he restrained the other hostages at this time as well, although their hands were bound in front of them." Sam paused, the emotions he'd felt at this point of his ordeal resurfacing. He'd known then that the chances were good that he wasn't going to get out of that station alive. He clenched his hands again against the tremors that shuddered through him, fighting the emotions back, refusing to give in to the left-over fear and pain.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Sam continued, "The subject grabbed my arm and dragged me up and over to the phone again. By the time I had my pain back under control, he was already on the phone, demanding to know where his car was. I heard Sergeant Walker ask if he could have the subject's name again, and that set him off even worse. He screamed that he wanted his car. When Sergeant Walker didn't respond, the subject demanded his car again. Sergeant Walker started to explain that it was just taking time, but the subject refused to listen. He told the sergeant he would prove he meant what he said and slammed the phone down."
"The subject snapped his fingers at the woman who'd gotten the paper towels and duct tape earlier and told her to get him a towel. When she didn't move right away he asked if she wanted to be the one he made an example of. The woman hurried away and I knew…" Sam paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He made sure the emotions he was reliving did not show in his voice. "I knew my chances of getting out of there alive were rapidly decreasing." He paused again, a deep breath helping contain his emotions. "When the woman came back, the subject took the towel and shooed her back to the other end of the counter. He paused after he wrapped the duct tape around my head, covering my eyes. I could feel him staring at me. I did my best to stay composed, but I knew what his intentions were." Sam took a slow, careful breath, and then continued. "I thought hard for several moments when he asked me if I wanted the chance to say goodbye."
Sam stared down at his hands, reliving that moment of agony, his face showing just a hint of his pain. His voice was hoarse when he took up the story again, "I finally decided to take the opportunity, hoping that my words, my emotions might reach him and get him to see me as a person, and not a weapon to use against the police. I wasn't successful in deterring the subject from his actions." He paused again, controlling his emotions with effort. "When I was finished speaking, the subject hung up the phone and forced the towel into my mouth. He secured it with duct tape and pulled me to my feet."
Another slow, calm breath helped Sam keep his voice even, although it stayed hoarse as he described the terrifying events that followed. "He pulled me up and guided me to another position. I was pretty sure we were near the door – which was confirmed when I heard the subject retract the shade." Sam couldn't keep the tremble out of his voice when he said, "then he put the gun to my temple." He didn't speak for several long moments, struggling to keep his emotions contained. He took several slow, calm breaths, just trying to hold on to his composure. He didn't react outwardly when he felt Jules' hand on his good shoulder again, but it helped him ground himself – it was over, he was out of that store, and he was ok.
"The next thing I knew, the subject was staggering behind me; and I knew what must have happened. I knew Pete had to have kicked the subject's knee, knocking him off-balance and bringing him into range for Team Two's Sierra One to take the shot. When the glass shattered and the subject collapsed behind me, I knew they'd taken the shot. Then the doors opened and Team Two was there, taking control of the situation."
Sam exhaled, still somewhat shakily, but relieved to have gotten all the way through it without breaking down. It had been hard – especially knowing his colleagues – his family, were listening.
He looked up and met Inspector Stainton's gaze. "Did you recognize the subject?" the inspector asked.
"No, sir," Sam replied. "Has he been identified, yet?"
"No, he hasn't," the inspector said. "It's becoming a concern. The subject had no identification on him, his fingerprints were removed, and so far, facial recognition hasn't come up with an ID."
"His fingerprints were removed?" Sam asked, startled. He shuddered, once. "That doesn't sound like someone who came in there just to rob a convenience store," he said slowly.
"No, it doesn't," Stainton agreed. "We'll continue to investigate until we get some answers." He looked seriously at Sam. "In the meantime, I would suggest you take precautions." He gathered up his things and looked back at Sam one more time on his way out of the door. "We'll be in touch," he promised.
A/N: Hmmm... So who was the subject? Will we find out? Check out the final installment to see...