Hey guys! I know this isn't my usual fare. I haven't done a song-fic in forever and a half. I don't think I'm particularly good at them. I also don't tend to stray very far from writing Sam or Wordy (my hommmies) and Jules/Sam is a pretty big fixture in a lot of my stories. But I just ... I hear the song at Starbucks yesterday and it just sparked this brain-baby. I just wanted to write it down. I needed to get it out, you know?

Essentially, Winnie is in love with Sam - and has been for a long time. He doesn't know of course, and she'll deny it to the very last.

Song is Taylor Swift I'd Lie. Lyrics are in bolded italics. Memories and thoughts are in regular italics.

None of this is mine. Not the song. Not the characters. Not the show. D: Too bad or I'd be filthy filthy rich.

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I don't think that passenger seat
Has ever looked this good to me
He tells me about his night
And I count the colors in his eyes

It had been a long day for Team One, Winnie thought with sympathy, as she watched them filter, slowly, through the front door. Too exhausted for even the ritual after-call beer. They'd responded to what should have been a fairly average domestic disturbance call. Instead, they discovered, a spurned mistress had taken her former lover, his wife, and their three children hostage in their home. She was determined to 'eliminate the competition'.

Winnie shuddered, remembering the sharp terror in the children's screams as the woman waved the loaded gun at them. She could only listen through the team's headset devises and pray that everything would be okay. And, in the end, it had been.

Sam had taken the lethal shot. Not before the bitch had sunk a slug into the youngest child's left leg, shattering the two year old's femur. Kid was still in surgery. But the doctors' were hopeful that he'd walk again.

She glanced at her watch. SIU had kept him for over four hours. She frowned.

Far longer than average, or normal. Team Three began to meander in and she gave each the same half-hearted wave. Where was he? She wondered.

"Winnie."

Finally.

She glanced up from the computer monitor to see him leaning over the desk, grinning down at her. Her stomach churned, clumsily, and her heart jumped at that boyishly charming smile.

"Hey." She responded. She inwardly winced. Hey? She mentally berated yourself. That's all you have to say? That's it?

"Have you heard from the hospital?" He asked anxiously.

"They're still operating but he's stable. Looks promising." She said, trying to smile. "Why did SIU keep you so long?"

"Well, at first they're asking why I waited long enough for a child to get shot to scorpio the woman. And then they start into the fact that I've had more lethal actions in the past year than any other member of ANY of the teams. They want to know if it's because I'm a raging psychopath." Sam sneered. The accusation stung a little.

"You're the best sniper." Winnie responded simply. It made sense. When you wanted somebody who could make the impossible shot – when you needed somebody who's accuracy was absolutely unquestionable – Sam was your guy.

"Thanks, Win. The Team leave already?"

"Yeah. They were exhausted. They stuck around for a couple hours but you were already on OT. 16 hour days are a killer." She yawned herself. She nodded to the bleary-eyed Sydney as he sat at the adjacent desk and began to key into the computers. Shift's up. She could crawl home and into her soft, warm, feather bed.

"You're riding home?" She asked, suddenly noticing the jet black bike-helmet dangling from Sam's hand.

"Was planning on it." Sam responded, glancing down at it, clenching the black chin-buckle in his fist. "Something wrong with that?"

"It's pouring outside." She glanced over his shoulder to the main doors where rain beat against the panes of glass in walls of sluggish grey water. It would be icy cold, Winnie imagined. And absolutely miserable.

"Just a little water." He shrugged.

"Let me drive you home." Winnie said. "I'm off in exactly 45 seconds. Syndey's just getting keyed in and then I'll be done. It's the same direction."

"It's only a 25 minute ride." He protested, lifting a shoulder.

"And in my car, where you'll stay nice and dry, it'll only be about 8." She argued.

He wavered, glancing towards the entrance. As if the gods had ordained it, a gust of wind threw another wall of water against the windows. He grimaced.

"Yeah. That would be great. Thanks Win."

He'll never fall in love he swears
As he runs his fingers through his hair
I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong
And I don't think it ever crossed his mind

Winnie slid the car into gear, the wipers working at full speed, as she eased the car out of the SRU parking lot. The streets were empty – too late for the night-owls and still too early for the morning-risers. Perfectly and peacefully empty.

"Rough day, huh?" She asked.

"Yeah. I didn't think she'd do it. I guess. I just didn't think she'd shoot a kid." Sam said, shaking his head sadly. Drops of rain, from their sprint from headquarters to her hatchback, glinted in his hair. He rubbed a hand against his head wearily, sweeping the damp blonde back from his face. "I'm never going to fall in love. It makes people damned stupid."

"That wasn't love." Winnie responded.

Lord knows she'd been jealous when she'd heard that Sam and Jules had been seeing each other. She'd overheard Sally gossiping about it with Roly before her shift had started. Jealousy had raged, like a storm, within her, bubbling up in her throat until it seemed like it would clamp out any breath she took or any words she spoke. It festered like an infected wound. Jules.

She'd tossed and turned at night thinking of them together, twined around one another in some darkened room.

The woman was beautiful and confident. She was smart and courageous. The woman, for god's sake, had thrown herself off a thirteen story tower to save a falling teenager. How was she supposed to compete with that? How could she ever compete Jules?

But when things had ended, she'd felt just as miserable as she had when they'd been together. Worse, in fact. Because this was what she had hoped for all along. That they'd split. She'd have a chance. But he'd been so sad. He'd hidden it well, of course. He was trained too – all the years in the military. But she was good at reading people. Especially him. And he'd been heart-broken.

"When you love somebody you want them to be happy. It's not about what you want. It's about what they need. That woman was just damned crazy." She told him.

He gave a thoughtful nod, stretching his legs in the passenger seat.

"Sad thing is I've probably dated worse." He joked.

She laughed.

I could tell you his favorite colors green
He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie

She bit down on her lower lip, the car slowly weaving its way through the still dark streets of Toronto. Ahead the sky was beginning to lighten, the storm lessening as it fled north. The rising sun would peek its sleepy head over the crest of buildings in another hour.

She glanced in the rear-view mirror. He stared out the window, rubbing a thumb across his chin. Contemplating something, Winnie decided.

She wondered if he was thinking of his sister. She imagined that calls about children often did. He'd lost her at tender age of 9 – just a baby himself.

He hadn't meant to tell her – in fact, she was fairly certain she was the only one who know. The picture had fallen out of his wallet, she supposed, in the lockerroom. The night janitor had given it to her. It was creased from wear, and torn at one corner. But quite clearly it was well-loved. Two smiling blonde-haired children, summer-tanned arms slung happily around one another, grinned out of the photo. Their eyes were identical shades of blue, streaked with green and gold. She'd known, even before she read the caption on the back, that it was Sam. In black ink on the reverse it was labeled Sammy and Sarah Braddock, 1990.

She'd given it to him the next morning when he'd come into work. And had relished the grateful look he'd shot her as he took it from her, his thumb lovingly grazing the surface of the picture.

Oh, thank god. I thought I'd lost it. He'd said, taking the photo and slipping it back into its revered slot. It's all I have left of my baby sister. Sarah.

He sees everything black and white
Never let nobody see him cry
I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine

Winnie's glad nobody knows. Because that would just be downright humiliating. Loving somebody who had absolutely no feelings in return was bad enough. Being the laughingstock of the SRU because of it would be unbearable.

"Come on." Kiera whines. "Seriously? You don't think any of them are hot? "

Of course she did. Was she blind? They were the top, elite policing force in the country. They were smart, they were fast, they were brave and, more often than not, they were incredibly good looking.

She shrugged.

"For me it's Brendon, team Three. All those rippling muscles. He looks at you with those honey-brown eyes and you just want to melt." Sally hummed in her throat, taking a deep gulp of beer.

Personally, Winnie thought Brendon was a bit of an arrogant asshole.

"None of them? Not Troy? Or Fraser?" Kiera questioned. "Not Sam?"

She froze, heart racing. Did they know? She glanced between the pair of them. Kiera, head propped on her arm, leant forward over the small bar-room table. Sally, face flushed from the booze, grinned sloppily at her.

"Lou." She muttered. "Lou Young."

I could tell you his favorite colors green
He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie

She'd deny it to her dying day. But she was terminally, ridiculously, foolishly in love with Samuel Braddock. She knew it was helpless. She knew he'd never love her back. She knew that as plainly as she knew the colour of the sky, or his birthday. She'd always just be Winnie – good ol' Winnie – to him. And that hurt.

He stands there then walks away
My God, if I could only say
I'm holding every breathe for you

She pulled into his driveway, easing the car to a stop.

"Here we are." She said lightly. She heard the click of the passenger seat-belt being released. She wished he'd lean over and kiss her. She wished he'd take her inside.

But she knew he won't.

"Thanks Winnie. It's been a long day." He said. "The ride home would have been brutal."

"Not a problem." She replied lightly. Keep it easy, Win she warned herself. "Sleep well, Samm-o."

"I will." He shot her a lop-sided grin, climbing out the car and slowly tromping up the stairs to his townhouse apartment. He turned at the door and waved, before disappearing inside the door.

She laid her head upon the wheel and just breathed. She counted the minutes as they ticked by. One. Two. Three. Finally, straightening in her seat, she slipped the car into reverse and slid back out in the lightening streets.

He'd never tell you but he can play guitar
I think he can see through everything but my heart
First thought when I wake up is, "My god, he's beautiful"
So I put on my make-up and pray for a miracle

Her thoughts were of him as she worked her way home. It was strange. He saw so much. But, when it came to her, he was completely and totally oblivious. She wondered what he would do if he knew.

He was a beautiful person. Outside and in. He cared. She knew he tried to pretend that he didn't sometimes. That he wasn't as affected as he was. But the team, and the people they were trying to save – they mattered to him.

He'd come to the team alone. And he'd been seeking something. Family. And Winnie had to say, he'd gotten one.

Maybe one day – maybe – he'd see her. Really see her. She could only hope. A faint wish on a dying star.

By the time she saw the red pick-up truck it was too late. It had hit a patch of oil-slick water – walls of water shot up under its wheels as the driver desperately tried to brake the car. It skidded across the intersection directly towards her. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound would come out. She was helpless. The car, a blur of rusty-red metal came spinning towards her, traction slipping on the wet pavement.

Yes, I could tell you his favorite colors green
He loves to argue oh and it kills me
His sisters beautiful he has his father's eyes
And if you asked me if I love him
If you ask me if I love him, I'd lie

It was like the world was falling apart around her. The sound was incredibly – of metal wrenching on metal and glass shattering. It reverberated through every inch of her body. The force threw her back in her seat, the belt straining against hard against her chest. The world gave a sick dizzyingly quick spin. She felt like a bird in a hurricane.

Sirens, she thought absently, when the world finally came to a stop. She heard sirens.

Everything was upside down. She reached for her seatbelt, to release the clasp, but she found that her arm was pinned by the door. She tried to wiggle her feet, but they too were trapped by the warped plastic wreckage. The pain was nauseating. Something hot and sticky dripped down her face, trekking down her cheek. Winnie registered, briefly, that it was probably her own blood.

Her vision blurred around the edges. Blackness began to creep in.

"She's alive! She's breathing! Lost a lot of blood! I need the EMT's STAT."

She struggled to find her voice. But her breath was coming labored now. She could hardly breathe. Her lungs were on fire. Everything hurt.

"Miss?"

She tried to fight the enveloping darkness. Tried to keep her eyes away. But the voices were faint now, barely whispers. And the even the siren's sharp blaring wails were quieter.

"Stay with us Miss."

She tried. She honestly tried. But the pain was too great. The pressure too unbearable. She closed her eyes. And, in the darkness, found peace.

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AN: I'll let you guys' work out your own endings - whether our girl Winnie makes it or not. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed.