This muse has been bouncing around in my head lately, it's a Flashpoint and Criminal Minds cross over fiction. Kind of sparked when I saw repeat episodes of "To Hell . . ." and then " . . . And Back" and after seeing "Between Heartbeats" for the hundredth time (and crying when Jules got shot and attacking my computer screen in a rabid fangirl craze) it all came together. Also, I just visited Toronto . . . I stood where Sam and Jules kissed! So enjoy this fiction.

Disclaimer: I own nothing by my laptop and my love of Sam Braddock. Sammy-kins! :D

10-108, the code for officer down, but there is no code for a family murdered.

Toronto, Ontario, Canada 11:51 PM

It was night time, a sliver of moon rose over the CN tower and struggled to shine over the lights of Toronto at night. Suburbs spiraled miles out from the city's financial district and gave way to neighborhoods with a maze of streets and cul-de-sacs. Now and then, high rises and multi-story apartment complexes would rise from the suburbia, like solitary trees in a wheat field. Horns honked and cars sped along the Gardiner Expressway, solitary vehicles crawled their way along the smaller roads and through the neighborhoods.

In one such neighborhood, a black sedan pulled up and parked on the side of the road, the driver's face was shrouded in shadow and his passenger was completely hidden. They sat outside, looking into a house with a man, his wife and two children.

"Look at them," the driver scorned, "a murderer like him is unworthy of a happy life."

"Will we strike tonight sir?" the passenger asked, the eagerness almost tangible in his voice.

"We will," the driver answered and took an item out of his pocket, the silver metal of the knife gleamed in the minimal light, "and we will show everyone that murder is wrong, even if you are a cop."

Strategic Response Unit (SRU) Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario 6:00 am

It didn't matter how old you were, if you were the member of the most elite task force in the police world or even if you had five cups of coffee. Working the night shift sucked and Michelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti just wanted to go home and sleep in his parents basement. His short brown hair was messier than usual and dark bags hung under his eyes.

A hostage situation had deprived him of any and all hopes of getting off the shift early, or even on time. Because after the hostage situation, one had to deal with all the paperwork. There wasn't even a bomb for him to defuse or a wall for him to blow up. It was a man with a gun, holding his ex-wife hostage.

"I hate bad guys," Spike mumbled as he downed another cup of Tim Horton's "Timmies" coffee and filled out yet another form, this time about his use of force in the incident.

Julianna "Jules" Callaghan, the female sniper and rappelling expert, looked up from the stack of her paperwork, "The bad guys hate us too," she said, her shoulder length brown hair was in a French braid, her preferred style of late, she hated it when her ponytail got caught up in the Kevlar vest. She glanced up at the clock, "Wonder how Ed's doing."

Edward "Ed" Lane, a fellow sniper and democratically elected team leader, had used lethal force to end the hostage situation. The Special Investigations Unit was currently interrogating him to make absolutely sure that the situation couldn't have been solved any other way. Given that the guy had fired off a few shots at the police that surrounded him before he was taken down, Ed's case looked pretty good.

As if on cue, the bald sniper, tall and imposing, waltzed into the room with barely a sound.

"Hey Ed, how'd it go?" Jules asked.

"Like they always do," Ed answered and grinned, "They didn't even have a case."

"Nice shot up there," Sam Braddock, the old rookie, stated, his nonchalance and boyish attitude was a reminder that even though he wasn't wearing the rookie badge anymore, he still had quite a bit to learn.

The rookie badge belonged to the other female on the team, Leah Kerns, a previous member of the fire department and replacement for a member Team One lost in a bomb scare, looked up. She was a soft-spoken black who was compassionate, but still could kick ass when she needed too.

Another man walked into the room, he was big, and not just height wise, he had been the man everyone had to drag around during their weekly training sessions. It was said that if you could drag the heaviest man on your team, you could save everyone. He had weighed a hefty two-hundred and fifty pounds, but everyone, even Jules, who was smaller than the rest of the team and half his weight, could drag him.

But his knowledge wasn't in weaponry, bombs, less lethal or hand-to-hand combat. It was in words. He was the crisis negotiator, he was the reason why Ed didn't have to shoot everyone who held a gun. The two bald guys on the team were almost complete opposites. Ed had his rifle, Sergeant Gregory "Sarge" Parker had his words. Ed had a wife and son, Greg was separated, his wife and son living in Texas. But despite them being foils, they were best of friends, they had that unique bond forged by years of working the beat together. Ed was supported by Greg and vice versa.

The last guy on the team was the only man who managed to hold a happy marriage (Ed's marriage was tenuous at best, Jules was committed to her independence and Sam had one night stands), Kevin "Wordy" Wordsworth, he had sandy blond hair in a buzz cut and was the best at hand-to-hand combat. He and his wife, Shelley, had three kids, and she was seven months pregnant with the fourth. He got into this line of work to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, the weak, the children, the women and everyone in between. He was always someone you could rely on.

The team assembled within the conference room that was fitted with an LCD monitor, table that could seat the whole team and some extras and fit a few boxes of reports, Greg got on with the debrief.

"Okay everyone, I know it's been a long night," Greg said calmly, "And we're all tired."

Spike snorted softly and Jules elbowed him from under the table.

"But let's just get this review done with and we can all go home and get some sleep," Greg finished, acting as if he never saw Spike and Jules' interaction, "At zero hundred hours, an armed robber entered the residence of . . ."

A knock at the door interrupted the debrief, an older man with a beard and light brown hair entered, "Sergeant Parker, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said in a slightly nasally voice. Another man entered as well, an African-American with short white hair and glasses, he wore the same uniform as the rest of the officers in the room.

"Inspector Stainton, Commander Holleran" Greg looked up from his report, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"There's been an . . . incident, regarding Team Three Constable Justin Chandler and his family," Inspector Stainton stated, looking at the African-American.

"What happened?" Wordy spoke up, a puzzled expression on his face, "Did he get in trouble?"

"He was found an hour ago, in his house," Inspector Stainton hated this part, "He was slain, along with his family. Early indications point to a murder-suicide."

"I don't believe it!" Ed shouted standing up, "No way he could do that!"

"Ed," Greg said in a tone that meant for him to watch it.

The rest of the team looked on with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Sure the job was tough, it drove strong men to suicide sometimes, but never to murder.

"I assure you, Constable Chandler is innocent until he is proven guilty, I don't want to believe this as much as you guys, but they need to investigate this further," Commander Holleran said, "Doctor Luria is on standby in case you need someone to talk to, until then, return to your debrief. Good job out there last night team."

Obligatory replies of, "Thank you sir," were mumbled all around and Greg looked up, "Okay, does anyone need to add anything to this report? Or can we just send it in?"

"Nothing to add sir," were the various replies, it was so unlike Sarge to brush over a debrief like that, but no one objected.

"Okay then," Greg signed the report, "Go home guys, get some rest, you deserve it."

"Thanks Sarge," the team replied, standing up from their positions around the table.

Sam got changed back into street clothes and waited until the whole team was out of the building, declining invitations to get a breakfast before returning home.

"Samtastic not joining us for breakfast at Timmies?" Jules remarked in surprise, "That's not like you."

"Yeah, I just need to sort something out," Sam replied cryptically, Jules gave him a worried glance before leaving. They were once an item, but the rules of the SRU were strict, never date anyone within your team. Sam shook his head to remove any thoughts of him, Jules and a bed. He walked up to the reception area and to the desk. A sole dispatcher was sitting at the desk, busily typing away at a report.

"Morning Winnie," Sam greeted the young dispatcher with curly black hair and wearing a dark blue uniform.

"Morning Braddock," Winnie greeted, looking up from her report, "I thought you were going out with the team."

"Yeah, I'll join them later," he said, trying not to sound awkward, apparently the Sam Braddock charm wasn't as great as the Greg Parker charm, "I, uh, need you to look something up for me."

"Sure," Winnie concealed her surprise, "What do you need?"

"Can you look up murder-suicides of law enforcement officers with family in the past year?" Sam asked.

"Sure," Winnie said, "What search area?"

"Canada and the United States," Sam had no clue what to look for, he just had a feeling that there was more to this. Chandler had been a great officer, as much as a family guy as Wordy was, there was no way he could have done this in cold blood. And if there was anyone who could prove it, it was his FBI cousin, that was why the United States search was necessary.

"It's going to take some time," Winnie said frowning a bit, "Do you want me to send the results to Sarge?"

"No," Sam said a little too quickly, "Can you keep this between us?"

"No problem," the young dispatcher looked a little suspicious though, the last time an SRU officer had asked for any case file, he was a man on a suicide mission and he shut down headquarters for hours.

"Thanks Winnie, I owe you one," Sam smiled as he left. Maybe he could go to that breakfast after all, the "Mini-Van Express" as the team had called Wordy's old and used mini-van, always had a seat open.

Behavioral Analysis Unit Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia - One Week Later

Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, sat at her desk located in an office within the Behavioral Analysis Unit. These people got into the most ruthless of serial killer's minds, always opting to outsmart them rather than relying solely on forensics. It had been a quiet week, once or twice, police chiefs and detectives had called for consults, but the cases were small, something that a preliminary profile could solve. She was glad their shift was almost over, she wanted to get home and see her infant son Henry and boyfriend Will.

A knock at the door caught her attention and JJ looked up, "Prentiss?"

Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, a tall woman with long black hair and an unusually shaped nose, stood at the door to the office, "JJ, there's someone who wants to see you. Calls himself Sam Braddock, he says it's urgent."

JJ's eyes widened in recognition at the name, "Okay, bring him in."

Emily nodded and left, moments later, Sam walked in, a visitor's badge clipped to his shirt and a large box of what appeared to be files in his arms.

He looked around the respectable office, "Nice place," he commented with a grin on his face, "Hey Jenn, it's been too long."

"Sam, I thought you were on a tour," JJ said, surprise leaking into her voice.

Sam looked down a bit, "Yeah, I, uh, got discharged. I'm in SWAT now, taking out the bad guys in the cool pants."

"'Cool pants'?" JJ asked, confused.

"Sorry, it's the name we call our selves. Strategic Response Unit, we work in Toronto," Sam sombered, "That's the reason why I'm here," he said, unconsciously lifting the box up a bit more, "A week ago, a constable and his family were murdered."

"I don't get where you're going with this Sam," JJ said, "If you haven't noticed, we're the FBI, we don't work in Canada."

"That's what this is for," Sam nodded towards the box in his arms, "Case files of every single murder in the past year, some took place in Buffalo and Rochester, New York. I already talked to the guy in charge on the cases in those towns, they agree something more is going on here."

"Look, Sam, we can't just pack up and go to Toronto, we need an invitation from local law enforcement to investigate," JJ replied.

"I already figured it out," Sam said, he put the box on the floor and handed JJ an envelope, "Three letters inviting you to investigate, two from the detectives in New York and one from the inspector in Toronto."

JJ looked at the letters, finally she said, "Alright, I'll get the team together."

Sam smiled, "Thanks Jenn."

How was that for a first chapter? I hope the BAU members were in character, I'm 99% sure the SRU was acting like they should :) (that's the benefit of writing almost exclusively for one fandom). Looks like SAR's spreading her wings ;). That's all from me for now.