Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint or any of its characters. Unfortunately. Maybe someone could gift-wrap Ed for me for Christmas :)

Warnings: Rated T for some coarse language in places, and some violence

Author Note: I'd just like to thank my fabulous beta reader HazelTree019, without whom this would be an unintelligible mess! Thanks Hazel.

"Clark, don't forget your homework!" Ed called up the stairs to his son. Sophie was on early starts for the next week – her catering company had managed to land a big contract at the Royal York hotel. It meant that Ed would have to take responsibility for organising their son to school each day – though Ed was sure that when he was Clark's age he hadn't needed organising. It was the first day of the temporary arrangement, and already it was obvious that Sophie's delicate hand was needed to keep the household running smoothly. Clark was running late and Ed had agreed to drop him to school en route to work.

"I've got it Dad," Clark replied in a distinctly bored voice.

"Books, gym kit, lunch?" Ed quizzed as he walked up the stairs, trying to remember if Clark actually had gym today. He heard Clark curse as he passed the boy's room, and called out:

"And watch your language."

Clark muttered something in return that Ed pretended not to hear as he walked into his own room. A cold breeze blew across his neck and he suppressed a shudder as he clicked the door shut. He crossed to the window to pull it shut, and froze. He hadn't opened the window.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, and turn around slowly."

The voice was cold and calm, and this gave Ed hope. Calm people could be reasoned with. Sometimes. He did as he was instructed, keeping his hands by his sides. His pistol – one of several throughout the house – was locked in the bedside cabinet. He knew there was no way he could get to it. His eyes finally fell on the man invading his home, and took him in swiftly. He wore dark jeans, a non-descript windbreaker, and a mask. But most importantly, he held a handgun, and it was aimed at Ed's chest.

"You want to tell me what this is about?" he asked the intruder.

"I want," the man replied, "you to step away from the window and put your hands behind your head."

Ed took a slow step to the side, but kept his hands by his sides. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement: a figure stepping from the en-suite bathroom. Ed kept his attention on the man in front of him.

"I need you to tell me what you want so I can help you."

"You need to put your hands on your head, now." The voice was dangerously low, and Ed was about to reply when the bedroom door creaked and swung open to reveal Clark.

"Dad, have you seen…" He stopped mid-sentence, hand still on the door knob, as he saw the two armed men. His eyes widened and he started to take a step back.

"Don't move!" shouted the man from the bathroom, advancing on the boy. Clark instinctively obeyed, looking uncertainly to his Dad for guidance.

"It's ok Clark, just do what they say. Everything's going to be fine," Ed assured him with a confidence he did not feel. The second man gripped Clark's school shirt and dragged him into the room. Ed bristled but did not move. To his captors, he said:

"Just take what you want and leave."

"Not what," the intruder corrected him. "Who."

Ed's heart pounded against his ribcage as the implication sunk in. He had to protect Clark, no matter the cost. He directed all his attention to the man in front of him, any thoughts of resistance gone.

"I'm the one you want. You don't need him. Just take me. I won't fight you."

"You're right," the man said, but before Ed could breath a sigh of relief, he added, "You won't fight us. Not if you want your son to live. Now put your hands behind your head."

Ed slowly obeyed, his eyes frantically scanning the room for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. The vase? No, it would leave him unarmed after he'd struck the first gunman. Wire coat hanger? No, it would take too long to slide it over the man's head. What, then? Finally he was forced to conclude that there was no weapon he could use to disarm both men without risking Clark getting caught in the crossfire. And that wasn't a risk he was prepared to take.

"Now what?" the man holding Clark hissed at his comrade. "The kid wasn't supposed to be here."

"Doesn't matter. We take them both. The cop ain't gonna give us any trouble if he knows it'll get his son killed."

Ed inhaled sharply. They knew he was a cop. Was that what this was about, something to do with his job? Revenge maybe? Whatever it was, he couldn't let Clark get caught up in the middle of it.

"I'll do whatever you want, just let him go."

"You will shut your mouth," the man warned him, advancing on the cop. He stopped, and abruptly swung his weapon to point at Clark. "Or you know what'll happen."

Ed fought a wave of nausea and nodded. For now he had no choice but to go along with what the intruders wanted.

"Good," his captor replied. "This is what's gonna happen. We're gonna wait here while Clark goes outside with my buddy. In a couple of minutes, we're going to follow them. You give us any trouble and your boy's dead. You're the one we want, I have no problem killing him. Understand?"

Ed nodded again. He watched as the second gunman leaned forward and whispered something into Clark's ear. The boy's terror-stricken eyes widened, and he nodded numbly. Ed forced himself to remain calm as the man steered his son out of the room, tucking his weapon into his waistband.

The cop pushed his own panic down and focussed his attention on the man in front of him. He didn't doubt these men would hurt Clark, and so kept his hands behind his head, and resisted the urge to make a grab for the gun. His captor stepped towards the window, motioning Ed to step back.

Time crept passed until finally Ed's captor let the curtain drop with a nod.

"Let's go. There's a van outside. You're going to get in the back. Don't turn around, don't try to warn anyone. Try to fight me and your boy's dead. Understand?"

Ed nodded.

"Good. Get moving."

The pair moved through the house. The gunman kept behind the cop, allowing a short distance to develop between them. Ed could feel the man's eyes boring into the back of his skull, but fought to urge to turn round. As he reached the door he could hear clothes rustling and knew that the gunman was concealing his weapon and removing his mask – he clearly didn't want to risk alerting the neighbours. Ed paused for only a moment as his eyes picked out the unmarked white van waiting outside his house, and then walked towards it. Though he looked calm, his heart was racing and his mouth was dry. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to resist, but he didn't. He couldn't. He knew he should find a way to stop the gunmen taking them off to somewhere no one would find them, but how could he do that without putting Clark at greater risk? And how could he justify endangering Clark further?

He swung open the van doors, and everything changed. Clark lay inside, unmoving. Ed jumped in and sunk to the floor beside his son.

"Clark?" he croaked.

"He's alive," his captor told him from behind as the doors swung shut loudly. A wave of relief washed over the father as his fingers detected the slow and steady pulse.

"What have you done to him?" he demanded, turning to the gunman who had already pulled his mask back on.

"He's sedated," the man answered. "Just in case you were thinking of trying something." Ed stared down at his unconscious son. The sedative had obviously been intended for him, but they had used it on his son to deter him from any sort of escape attempt. His mind was reeling from the events of the last 10 minutes, but their impressive level of organisation had not escaped his notice. His stomach lurched at the implications, but he drew a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. Beside him, the gunman produced a pair of handcuffs and held them out.

"Put them on." Ed stared at the metal bracelets and accepted them mutely. He snapped them shut around his wrists obediently, avoiding eye contact. He did not trust himself to speak, and so stared back down at Clark.

The gunman tapped his weapon twice against the van's metallic wall, and the vehicle rolled away into the unknown.