Hey everyone, as usual, I don't own Flashpoint and check out my profile for story ideas.

Okay, this story is set sometime soon after 'One Wrong Move' and the part at the end about the cabbage rolls came from 'The Element Of Surprise' I think. After reading another story on here where it kinda had a father/son bond between Wordy and Sam, I've continued to see them as such since, from the sound of things on the show, Sam didn't have the greatest relationship with his dad.


This may not have been a good idea, Sam thought as he walked up the steps to the Scarlatti household. I can't back out now. Sam reached forward and rang the doorbell, nervously shifting from foot to foot. He had taken the first part of his shift off for a dental appointment but told Greg he wouldn't be in for another hour. Not that the boss had any idea what he was going to be doing; for all he knew, Sam was having to wait for the effects of the novocain to wear off. He heard a woman's voice call out then the sound of feet coming closer.

Mrs. Scarlatti opened then door, holding a pair of rubber yellow gloves with soap suds still on them. ''Can I help you?'' she asked smiling.

''Yeah,'' Sam drawed out. ''I'm a friend of Spike's,'' he began.

''I'm sorry, Mikey's not here right now. He's at work, but if you want to wait here or leave a message ...''

''Actually, I work with Spike. I came here to talk to you and your husband.'' Sam regretted the words as soon as he said them. The sudden paleness of her face told him she took his words the wrong way. He quickly amended, ''Spike is fine. He's his same happy self, I assure you.'' At least he was when I left the briefing room this morning, but she doesn't need to know that.

Putting a hand over her chest to still her racing heartbeat, she shakily asked, ''Oh, well, what was it you were needing, dear.''

''If I could just come inside, to talk.'' He spoke softly so he wouldn't upset her again, and slowly walked in when she stepped back to let him inside. Taking in his surroundings as Mrs. Scarlatti led him to the living room, he saw a lot of family portraits along the wall. Spike, he noticed, seemed to have inheirited the big smile from his dad. From the way Spike talked, however, he never imagined the man to smile.

''Here we are,'' Mrs. Scarlatti said as they entered the living room, where Mr. Scarlatti was sitting in an arm chair. ''Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee ...''

''No, I'm fine. Thank you.'' Sam sat down at the end of the couch, rubbing at his jaw. He was pretty sure if he drank anything it would spill out of his numb mouth.

Mrs. Scarlatti sat down in a chair beside her husband. ''You wanted to speak with us about something?''

''Yes,'' he started nervously, running a hand through his hair. ''Look, I know it's none of my business, but lately, Spike has been pretty down. From the sound of things, he's been having a tough time here. I know you're worried about his job, but it's what makes him happy. Helping people. You should be proud ...''

''Proud? How can I be proud of him, when I'm too busy worrying whether he's going to come home or not?'' Mr. Scarlatti turned his head away to look out the window, trying to prevent the conversation from happening.

''Sir, I know ...''

''Not long ago, his friend, Lewis, died. That could've been my boy,'' he strangled out as he started coughing.

''Exactly. Mr. Scarlatti, think about it. Spike walked out of here this morning to go to work. He could die. If he died today, do you really want his last memories of you to be of you walking out of the room when he enters instead of you giving him a hug or a kiss. Do you really want the last thing he hears from you to be coughing instead of telling him how much you love him. I know you love him, you wouldn't be so worried about him if you weren't. I wish my dad could love me just an ounce of how much you love Spike. You may think, that by pushing him away, you'll save yourself the heart ache, if this job does take his life. Believe me sir, it'll hurt worse. Worse than you can imagine, because you'll know the little boy who thought you were the greatest superhero, died thinking his dad hated him. For trying to step into his dad's shoes and be a hero, and you know what? Spike is a hero. The bombs he defuses save hundereds, and the things he can do with a computer is unbelieveable. Rarely, rarely, does he get thanks for it, but recognition is not why he does it. He does it to help people who can't fend for themselves, to help people understand that there's a better way ... to make you proud of him. I may not know Spike as well as Lew did, but I know enough to know it hurts him, after he comes into work and before he goes home. Seeing him fake a smile in front of everyone. Pretend everything is okay. His best friend, his brother, died, and he thinks it's his fault. He'll think it's his fault, too, if you die. Thinking if he had just quit, you'd still be alive, but I don't even want to think about the people that would die because Spike wasn't there. He is one of the best officers out there, people need him, the team needs him. Nobody can be garrentued a long life, sir. He just trying to make the lives of the people he meets last a little longer. So they can be happy. Why can't you let him be happy?'' Sam took a deep breath, calming himself down. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mrs. Scarlatti quietly crying, wiping her eyes and nose with a tissue. Sam kept his eyes glued to Mr. Scarlatti, who was still looking out the window. Slowly he watched as Mr. Scarlatti turned his head toward him, meeting his gaze with haunted eyes.


''Spike, there's a couple of people here to see you,'' Winnie called over the loudspeaker.

''You want to come with, Babycakes. That's it, strut your stuff,'' Spike said, pushing forward on the knob on the remote. ''That's it, you're a star, you're a beauty, all the male robots flock toward you. You're a rose, a delight, a ... Mom, Dad? What are you doing here?'' Spike stopped short in front of the dispatcher's desk. ''Is everything alright?''

''Yes, yes, your father and I just thought we would drop by for a moment. Say hello, and drop off some treats for your friends.'' Mrs. Scarlatti went and gave Spike a big hug and kiss. ''What is this?'' she asked, looking at the robot.

''Umm, Babycakes meet Mom, Mom this is Babycakes,'' looking back and forth between his parents.

''Wow. Babycakes is meeting the parents. I never thought this day would come,'' Greg held up a cookie in greeting, along with the rest of the team.

''You know, now that I think about it, isn't Babycakes a little too young for Spike?'' Ed couldn't resist the joke at Spike's expense.

''Nah, they're about the same age. She's just had more work done,'' Greg easily came back, stuffing the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

''Guys, what going on?'' Spike was doing his best not to panic and was shocked when his dad came up and embraced him in a hug.

''We were just in the area, thought if it wouldn't be too much trouble, we could get a tour. See where you work.'' Mr. Scarlatti kept his arms around his son's shoulders, giving a light squezze.

''We'll be in the briefing room, Spike. Take your time,'' Greg nodded for the others to follow him, giving Spike the time with his parents.

''Uh, right, well this is the dispatcher's desk ...'' Spike started explaining things and walked his parents down one of the hall, trailing Babycakes behind him.

''Don't think I don't know what you did, Sam,'' Wordy said quietly and turned to find Sam trying to sneak past into the briefing room.

''No idea what you mean,'' Sam tried for nonchalantness.

''Please. I drove you to your last dental appointment. You have no trouble with novocain. You took that extra hour to speak with Spike's parents, didn't you.'' It wasn't a question, and it was accompanied with the same stern look he gave his girls when he needed to. ''Good job.''

''Thanks ... Dad.''

Wordy reached over and ruffled Sam's hair. ''Come on, let's get in there before they send a search party. You coming to dinner tonight. Shell's making cabbage rolls.''

Sam laughed and started walking backwards to face Wordy, ''Between you and me, Team Three doesn't stand a chance.''