A/N: Hey guys! Thank you all who are still here with me! I appreciate every review, favorite, and follow, so keep em coming! Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

The Cabin, 12 AM

"Oliver?" She pauses in her steps, focusing solely on listening. "Oliver, I just got home from work. It's me, Jules."

She hears a slight thump from upstairs. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She reaches for her off duty weapon. Another thwarted thump.

Now on high alert, Jules stealthily walks up the stairs, keeping her breathing even and her heart rate steady.

The sound, she accurately surmises, is originating from her brother's bedroom. Standing on the other side of his door, she mentally counts to three before opening the door.

Oliver is standing, staring at the dark skies from the open window. He's holding a small rubber ball in one hand, creating the thump everytime he throws it at the wall.

"Oliver?" She deftly places her gun back in her holster as she walks forward.

"He was so calm."

Jules frowns, furrowing her brows. "Oliver? What are you talking about?"

"He knows something. Or someone. Or..." Oliver throws the rubber ball at the wall angrily, catching it with ease as it bounces back with force.

Jules walks forward, mindful of his current state. She places a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Ollie, what are you talking about?"

Oliver turns abruptly, his dark green eyes burning. "I don't know. That's the problem. Something was off with Andrew Smoak and I don't know what."

Jules crosses her arms in front of her chest. "How?"

"Well, for one, there were no obvious, or even concealed, signs of fear. He also had this disgustingly unsettling smile on his face. He could have captured me but he just let me go." Oliver runs a hand through his hair, both distressed and perplexed. "Everything was too easy."

Jules frowns, her stomach doing a back flip. "He's planning something."

"That much I can figure out." Oliver growls. "The question is what..."

"Bonus points for when and where?" Jules muses.

Oliver, despite himself, chuckles. He looks over at his sister, really looks at her, and his face softens. "I'm sorry for earlier Jules. I was being a jerk. But I meant what I said. I just don't like the way I said it." He pauses. Although her face is set in sculpture, he continues. "If I were you, I wouldn't trust a single soul in this world."

"I thought I already told you that they're my friends." Her tone is icy as she maintains the stone set to her face.

Oliver nods, turning back to throwing the rubber ball against the wall. He repeats this three times before Jules begins talking again.

"They asked me about you."

Oliver turns back to face her.

"Spike told the team about the laptop. Boss implied that they thought you're involved in gun trafficking, so I told them you're a gun collector as a cover story." Jules shrugs. "Just in case anyone brings it up tomorrow..." She glances at her watch. "Or should I say, later today."

Oliver nods, throwing her a look. "That's what I meant. Do not trust anyone." He then turns back to the window.

Jules stands there for some time before exiting his bedroom in search of her own.

She only has about four hours of rest before the sun forces its way back up.

Four hours.

Four words.

Do not trust anyone.

SRU Headquarters, 5:00 AM

Two black motorcycles come to a stop in the parking lot of the Metro Police building, and two persons climb off with ease. They remove their helmets and gloves, making no move to head inside.

Oliver stands with his legs set slightly apart, his muscled arms straining in front of his chest. His green eyes maintain an intense stare down with the building, as if by staring at it, it will somehow evaporate.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Jules lightly taps his arm, indicating her presence.

Oliver plasters on a fake smile. "What are you talking about?"

Jules purses her lips, eyeing him carefully, as if attempting to figure out the motive behind a criminal's actions.

She finally shrugs her slender shoulders. "Okay then, let's go."

The siblings make their way into the building and walk inside, automatically heading for the stairs and walking out on the correct floor.

As soon as the glass doors to the lobby slide open, they hear a voice call out.

"Jules!"

Jules turns her attention to the Italian man waving her over from his position behind a large bulky machine.

Jules tips her head with a slight smile and walks towards him, Oliver close behind her.

"Hey, Spike."

The man rises from the ground and wipes off some automobile grease from his hands with a dark blue cloth. "Hey, Jules." He tips his head slightly. "Oliver."

Oliver simply nods in acknowledgement.

A tense silence ensues until Jules speaks up.

"Well, I better let you boys work on, um, the robot." She directs her next question to Spike. "Is anyone else around?"

"Yeah, Boss and Ed are having an," he pauses, carefully searching for the right word,"discussion in the briefing room. Sam is in the shooting range. Wordy and Lew aren't here yet."

Jules nods, weighing her options. She decides the gun range is the most logical choice despite its current occupant. She offers a quick wave and smile to the guys as she walks towards her locker room.

Both men look like ticking time bombs. Two explosives that even the robot made for that sole purpose before them can't diffuse.

She only hopes they don't detonate.

SRU HQ, Lobby, 5:25 AM

Both men watch Jules's retreating form and simultaneously wish they could walk away from each other as well.

However, they are both here for the same reason, although neither know it.

To find out more about the other.

"So this must be the so called Babycakes." Oliver allows.

Spike hums in agreement, returning his attention to his beloved robot.

Oliver stands awkwardly as he watches the other man use a ratchet to remove some screws.

Suddenly, the brunette leans back on his heels and sighs. "I'm sorry."

Oliver lifts an eyebrow.

Spike rubs his shoulder with the opposite hand sheepishly. "Jules, um, she came to me with a laptop. It had... Well, you know. And I thought you were, um..."

"A gun trafficker? Part of the mafia?" Oliver supplies.

Spike chances a glance at the man, attempting to decipher his tone. "Yeah."

Silence. It stretches on like the ocean until a wave ripples through in the form of laughter.

From Oliver.

Spike stares at the man as if he grew a second head.

Oliver sobers, offering Spike a one sided smile. "The actions of you and your team mates make a lot more sense now. Although, it really is a farfetched idea."

Spike lets a slow smile laze up to his face. "Yeah, it is." He groans. "I'm so sorry. We were all such jerks."

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Oliver shrugs. He looks down at the piece of machinery. "Need a hand?"

Spike nods and both men begin to work in silence.

Until one of them begins to speak, acting on his true intentions.

"So how long have you worked here?"

Spike studies a rotator cuff as he answers distractedly. "About five years."

"That's quite some time. You always wanted to be a cop?"

"Not really. I wanted something more along the lines of video game making." Spike snorts softly. "But then I saw the effects video games have on kids after a shooting incident at a local theater and decided to protect them from that instead."

Oliver scrutinizes him carefully, weighing his honesty and integrity. He realizes this man isn't a bad person at all and actually a good cop. And, based on what Jules has shared, a good friend. He smiles, not completely genuine but not completely fake either.

Spike smiles back. "What about you? How long have you been in the business?"

"A couple years." Oliver answers vaguely. "I've always loved working with cars so I decided to make a career out of it."

The lie rolls off his tongue without a second thought.

"I thought you preferred collecting guns?" Spike frowns, poking a hole in his story.

Oliver doesn't miss a beat. "That's my more personal hobby."

Spike nods, continuing the veiled questioning. "How long have you been living in Toronto?"

"About two years." Oliver answers in a clipped tone, annoyed at what now seems to be an outright interrogation.

Spike realizes he pushed too far, too fast, and decides to remain quiet, mumbling something about the rotator cuffs.

He lets out a small sigh of relief, however, when Wordy and Lew walk into the lobby, effectively hampering anymore potential conversation between the two.

SRU HQ, Female Locker Room to Gun Range, 5:25 AM

After retreating into the female locker room with the personalized name tag, Jules promptly exchanges her street clothes for the professionally gloomy attire.

Hesitating at the door, she mentally weighs her options once again. Uninvited, her brother's words float back to her.

I saw the way he looks at you. And I saw how hard you were trying to avoid looking at him.

Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?

As if spoken by the air, the accusing words ripple through her being. She turns around, glaring at the empty locker room.

That's when she sees them.

Her eyes stare back at her coldly from the glaring mirror. Accusing her of past atrocities, present lies, and future actions.

Who are you trying to convince? You know what you did. You're a monster. A cold blooded killer.

Jules feels her heart beat quicken as her hands sweat. She shakes her head furiously. "No, no, no."

The eyes shine with mirth, bleeding at the corners.

Jules's own eyes widen as she stumbles out of the locker room, her lungs gasping for air. She finally finds it, the air that isn't tainted with her bloody thoughts.

"Jules?"

She looks up to see none other than Sam Braddock standing a couple feet away.

She immediately straightens her posture and schools her features. "Sam."

His blue eyes, offering comfort in their color, stare at her intently. "You okay?"

Jules allows annoyance to seep into her features and words. "Yes, Sam, I am."

Not entirely convinced, the blond nods. "Wanna join me at the shooting range? We can make a couple bets without the Sarge around."

Jules softens her features. "Yeah. Okay."

They walk in companionable silence until they reach the gun range.

"Rifle or handgun?"

"Rifle."

"20 for 20?"

"You bet."

Sam pauses, looking around. He then reaches out a hand and places it on her arm, prompting her to look up. "I win, we spend some time together outside of work. Just me and you."

Jules's eyes form slits as she glares at his bravado. "Sam..."

"Come one, Jules. Just a friendly outing between friends."

Although both his body language and tone say otherwise, she nods before she even realizes that she's actually agreeing. She blames his eyes and their enticing offer.

Sam smiles as if he just received the best present anyone can ever ask for. For him, he has.

Jules clears her throat to break the connection their eyes have begun, and offers her own bargain. "If I win, you're not allowed to ask me out ever again."

There's a pleading tone to her voice that she hopes he doesn't pick up. But based on his grin, he has.

Sam's eyes adopt a determined glint as he stretches out a hand. She hesitantly places her slender hand in it.

"Deal."

The contact makes their skins tingle and they both suppress the urge to shiver as the electricity courses through their bodies.

The connection is broken once again, however, by the only person thinking with their brain.

They both then grab their weapons and stand in position beside each other.

"Ready?"

They both know what's at stake and they're both willing to fight for it, one more than the other.

"Ready."

SRU HQ, Briefing Room, 5:25 AM

"Eddie, I really don't know."

"Greg, think about it. Your involvement would give it more public backup to counteract the critics."

Greg runs a hand over his hairless head, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Ed, look. I really don't think it's a good idea that I join this task force. I want to keep public safety and the hunt for those criminals separate."

Ed raises a challenging eyebrow. "And what is the difference between capturing two criminals and public safety?"

"Eddie, these aren't run of the mill criminals. They need their own task force!" Greg presses. "I can't focus on both, I'm bound to get wrapped up in on one or the other. And I want to focus on doing my job."

Ed seems to truly weigh his friend's words and finally relents. "I guess I can see your reasoning. But just to be clear, will you be able to help out on occasions?"

Greg smiles softly. "Ed, I'm not against the task force. It's a great initiative and I'm 100% behind it. I'm not against your involvement either. If you can handle both this job and that task, then go ahead."

Ed nods swiftly. "Got it." He turns on his heel, and is about to head out, but calls over his shoulder. "After workout, make the guys run some drills. I have to head over to the meeting. I'll be back before noon."

Greg nods and Ed exits the briefing room, heading to the local police department where the first meeting for the new task force is about to make history.