Author's note: I finished the series today and for me it was pretty significant. My own experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan have made me relate to many of these characters in a way I didn't really expect. Ed facing his own demons toward the end of the series really hit home with me and resonated sharply. I happened to see the tragic finale on this day—which is a terrible one for the United States and the people of Connecticut. So I felt compelled to write this one shot, partly for the end of a show I thoroughly enjoyed and partly for the day's events that I wish could be stopped by the type of people we see portrayed in a show like Flashpoint. Unfortunately reality is not quite as happy and we merely have to make due and get by on our own. But I hope you guys enjoy this short story. It's the speech Ed made that Team One alluded to in the final episode of the series. Thanks for reading.

Somber days followed the tragic events that led to the bombings throughout the city of Toronto. The city and it denizens fell into shock at the atrocities committed by a gifted young man pushed beyond the brink of normalcy, driven by madness to carry out evil deeds. Perhaps more sobering than that was the fallout that came after the revelation that the psychological trauma the subject responsible for the attacks had suffered came from experiments caused by a popular Professor at his University; a celebrated man whose students fought tooth and nail to work with… and a sadist.

And the death toll continued to rise as those who had been evacuated by emergency services in the midst of the tragic events that day were later pronounced dead—the causes always relating to complications caused by their injuries. Days of mourning turned to weeks as the city committed itself to regaining a vibrancy lost amidst terror and hardship.

The early days after the attack were characterized by fear and sadness, but gradually hope prevailed. The citizens were uplifted by tales of heroism and sacrifice, not just by the city's emergency responders, but by individual citizens who had waded into danger on behalf of a fellow human being—strangers helped one another to overcome adversity and rise above the terror that struck at the heart of their city. Slowly, step by step, they reclaimed their city. Buildings were fixed, memorials were erected, and a city's liveliness—dimmed for so long—began to brighten once more. And with it came intense pride.

But another community within Toronto was reeling from the events of that fateful day. The emergency services, the frontline warriors in that fight against terror had suffered great losses as those who served put themselves in harm's way without question and sacrificed their lives for their city and the people who resided there. The metropolitan police department, the fire department, Emergency Medical Services and the Strategic Response Unit had all paid a cost measured in blood.

It was that cost that drew Team One and the remaining members of every team within the SRU to the shady, rolling hillocks of Mount Pleasant Cemetery. They were there to mourn the loss of their heroes, those who put themselves willingly between a mad man and the people he sought to harm. Constable Donna Sabine, team leader, team three and one of her subordinates Constable Jimmy Shanahan were being laid to rest amongst a long line of granite headstones and much of the uniformed services had turned out to pay their respects.

"Jules, Sam," Ed Lane greeted with somber eyes and a stern look. "And little Sadie." The appearance of Sam and Jules' young daughter was enough to break the veteran's stolid expression. He cracked a smile as he playfully poked at the baby who giggled from the attention.

"Sergeant," Sam said with obvious humor in reference to Ed's selection and promotion to team Sergeant. It had all come as a surprise to the team when he opted to put in his papers and attempt to move up.

"Ed is fine, Sam," the Sergeant responded feeling chagrinned. He was replacing Sergeant Gregory Parker as team one's Sergeant and that seemed like an impossible feat. The bar was set high and Parker had left immense shoes to fill. Lane knew his purpose was not to replace the man, but merely carry on the standard of excellence he had set.

"Hey you're the boss," Sam said, raising his hands in surrender. A sly grin cracked upon his face.

"Very funny," Ed responded, shaking his head. "Jules, when can we expect you back on the team?"

Surprisingly the most driven woman that any of the members of Team One had ever known had taken to being a mother like it was a hot call on a busy Toronto day. She transitioned seamlessly, pouring the same amount of time, energy, and dedication she had put into her job into being a parent.

"Someday," she mused. Loving eyes fixated on her baby bundled in her arms, the joy of her life. "Not just yet."

Sam rejoiced in the moment, loving every second of his beautiful wife and the care she gave to their child. Seeing her in that instant made it seem impossible to think she'd taken lives before. But careful thought revealed to him that she was always compassionate and never hasty. Taking a life had always weighed heavily upon Jules. She had been the staunchest of them all when it came to the use of lethal force and Sam cherished her all the more for having an inner strength he did not possess.

Sergeant Gregory Parker appeared then, moving along with the assistance of a cane. It was hard for each of them to see him in such a fashion—the bold leader and resilient mentor he had been still existed, but he struggled now with the physical hardship that followed his own personal sacrifice. Yet Parker was a fighter, the sort of man that endured trials and conquered them. He was an example to them all.

Marina walked closely beside him, inwardly relieved at his reassignment to the training cadre at the Academy. Their lives had become so intertwined and she had been there for every second of his harsh rehabilitation. It felt good to her to be needed. Greg had been her hero once and she would stop at nothing to be his.

"Boss," Ed greeted, echoed by the others from Team One.

"Oh, you don't call me that anymore, Sarge," Parker teased with a smile. He reached out and shook Sam and Ed's offered hands. "You're the boss now."

Ed smiled solemnly. "Hopefully I do you proud."

"Eddie, you can never do anything but make me proud," he stated, his chest swelled from the declaration. His chin quivered ever-so-slightly and it was evident to them all that the reunion was hard for him. He yearned to be a part of the team and every day was a sad realization that it would never happen. Every day was a battle. His eyes switched to Jules, as radiant and loving as the mother Greg Parker always knew she could be. "And look at these two beautiful ladies."

Jules beamed and presented her child to Team One's former Sergeant. "She's got Sam's eyes, but she's tough like me."

"I have no doubt," Greg observed as he looked affectionately upon the baby.

"Boss!" Spike's unmistakable voice echoed over the solemn murmur of the assembled guests. Team One turned to see the lovable geek approaching with Winnie, their dispatcher, close at hand. "I'm glad you're here."

"Is that right?" Parker asked rhetorically.

"Yeah Winnie and I were talking on the way over," Spike began to explain. He shook hands with his teammates. "She said Sam was a natural choice for team leader, but I disagree. I think I've got the chops." He jokingly looked at Sam with a challenging glance.

"Not my call, buddy," Parker lamented. "Talk to your Sergeant." The team's eyes fixated on Ed Lane.

He shrugged. "You two can fight over it."

"I don't know how to operate baby cakes… so…" Sam trailed off, looking confused. The team chuckled at the thought of the two switching places. Sam was brave, perhaps the bravest of them all, but he wasn't the technical mastermind Spike was.

Leah Kerns was the last to arrive and quietly greeted her fellow members of Team One. More words were exchanged, but they decided they'd save the bulk of it for after the memorial and burial. They had every intention of unifying once more afterward and enjoying some drinks together, at least one last time as Team One.

"I guess we should start taking our seats," Sam commented, seeing other officers filing in. Ed nodded and Jules agreed. The couple shuffled their way into one of the rows and took their seat as close to the front as they could.

Meanwhile Ed moved to the front row in a seat reserved for him and the deceased's family. Donna's husband was there, red-eyed and devastated but he upheld a dignified stature in memory of his heroic wife. He shed his tears, but he did so with pride on behalf of a woman who exemplified duty and sacrifice.

Jimmy's wife Kristen was there too, coddling a newborn baby she had been pregnant with when her husband had fallen. The sadness was much more pronounced with her and yet as officers spoke with her and passed along their condolences they could identify an earnest hope. Because Jimmy lived on, he may have been gone, but his son was alive and well and his mother would raise him to know his father as best she could.

At the head of the assembled crowd were two caskets. Emblematic red and white flags with a maple leaf boldly emblazoned upon the face draped each casket. It reminded Sam of every military funeral he had ever been to—and that number was far too high for a man his age. But he fixed eyes on the caskets, forced his gaze upon them so that he could realize the truth of his chosen profession. It was dangerous—terribly so and it was a startling realization now as his soft blue eyes shifted to his wife and their daughter. The risk was great now, his own life's importance had always been secondary in his mind, yet the value of it increased exponentially now because there were others that relied heavily upon him now for support. His wife, Jules, could handle any challenge, leap beyond any hurdle, but she didn't deserve to struggle. She deserved to be cherished and taken care of and their daughter would need a father. The stakes were that much higher and the day's events were so much more sobering because of it.

Many people spoke that day. The Chief of Police stepped forward and offered comforting words to the family and friends of those who had laid down their lives. His speech was well-prepared, but hollow in the sense that he didn't truly know the officers who lay at rest before him. It was the sort of speech a man in his position was expected to make. He used strong words like duty and courage, but without offering context and with the knowledge that he was truly ignorant of the officer's individual traits it missed its mark. Every officer there appreciated the effort, but it was a speech as much for politics as it was for memoriam.

Likewise, Commander Hollaren, the SRU leader, gave his own speech talking about the hard work and attention to detail these two officers typified. He commented on the dedication they put forward to Team Three; he discussed Donna's meteoric rise through the ranks and her natural aptitude for a job so demanding very few could endure it.

Then it was Ed Lane's turn. He was called forward to follow behind Commander Hollaren and he stepped forward dutifully as the sentinel that carried with him the memory of officers come and gone. He stepped behind the podium, but turned off the microphone there. He would speak with the power of lungs honed from years as a team leader; he would speak from his heart. He looked out upon the audience assembled before him. The majority of those arranged in the neat rows of pearl white folding chairs were clad in their dress uniforms, others were civilians—family and friends.

He adjusted his collar and shifted uncomfortably beneath the gaze of so many. His chest was adorned with an assortment of medals awarded to him over the years for valor and courage in the face of grave danger. Yet at the moment they were meaningless. All that mattered was these lost lives beside him.

He coughed, preparing himself to speak. "Good afternoon," he began in a melancholy tone that indicated he was unsure of himself. The rest of his Team looked at him with reassuring eyes, willing him to continue and say what he felt deep within his heart. He was their rock, the heart of their team and the glue that had held them together for so long. He had the right words; he just needed to find them.

He grimaced slightly and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. "What can I say that will do justice to the souls lost in this tragedy?" he hesitated again, his eyes searched through the sea of police officers. "They gave me a medal…"

He choked back the urge to shed tears; he stifled the lump in his throat and adjusted his posture behind the podium. "I know that many of us were awarded for our actions that day, but I would give it back a thousand fold to make that day disappear. I would lay every medal on my chest down and relinquish every good deed if it meant Donna and Jimmy could be back with us today." He felt a single tear drop run down the side of his face.

"I wish… I wish more than anything we lived in a world that didn't need people like me," his voice cracked as emotion forced its way from his throat. "The sad truth is that we live in a dangerous world filled with violent people and it makes it necessary for me, the SRU, for of all of us to exist- but there are highlights… things… people we can be proud of that exist within our organization.

"Donna Sabine and Jimmy Shanahan were the sort of police you counted on. Good police. The type that shelved their own personal grievances and gave every ounce… every fiber of their being to the men and women they served beside. They never asked why, they never questioned their duty—they put themselves in harm's way day in and day out and they didn't do it for pay. They didn't do it for money or benefits. They didn't do it for themselves. They did it for this city and its people, they did it for every single one of us here today," he expressed earnestly. His voice was shaky, trembling from the words he spoke and he felt more tears roll down the side of his aged cheeks.

"Every one of us here walks that path, we straddle that dangerous line between life and death and we leave our families every morning wondering if we'll return home at night. But we live up to examples set by those who embody what this job is about and it's up to us to honor them by filling the shoes they no longer occupy," he conveyed shakily. His eyes had teared up; his chin trembled slightly as he struggled to maintain his composure. His eyes met the teary-eyed gaze of his wife. His son and daughter were close by and he choked back a sizable lump in his throat.

"There are heroes amongst us all, people," he continued, regaining some composure. "People like Sergeant Greg Parker who faced down certain death for the greater good—my friend, my mentor, the man that made us what we are." His eyes found Parker amidst the crowd. Team One's former Sergeant sat beside his girlfriend Marina, their fingers intertwined. His eyes were red and glimmering with tears he fought to keep back. "He was my moral compass… the light in the dark… and the helping hand when I needed it—when I was too afraid to ask."

Parker closed his eyes tightly; his hand matched his lids, tightening around the cane he held between his legs. It was a necessary tool now; the wounds from that tumultuous day had cost him dearly. But he knew, despite the daily struggles, that if he could rewind the clock he would not have changed a thing.

"We all have comrades like this," Ed continued. "It's why we do what we do. They carry us to success whether we like it or not. Jimmy and Donna embodied these virtues and so many more I couldn't possibly list them now…" His voice trailed off and his eyes looked upon the caskets longingly.

He marched to Donna's casket and saddened blue eyes gazed at the vessel that would carry Donna to the afterlife. Another tear escaped his eye with a gentle sigh and ran down his cheek, already sticky with dried tears. He looked down at the medal he'd earned for valor that day—it was a commendation bestowed upon every member of Team One for their actions, given to him and the others by the mayor himself. He unpinned it from his uniform and looked out to the officers assembled. "Honor the dead," he ordered loudly in a commanding voice that echoed over the entire crowd. He stifled the shakiness in his hand and laid the medal to rest upon the shimmering casket's lid. He snapped to attention and presented a salute.

The crowd watched in silence then stood to attention and saluted as well as the caskets were lifted from their place and carried by the pallbearers toward their final resting place. The mood had not changed amongst everyone mustered, but there was relief reverberating through them all. In a sense a weight had been lifted from their chests. By burying their fallen they could put the terrible events of that day to rest. They would not forget, they could never forget. Their duty demanded them to remember forever and the character that each of them possessed—especially amongst Team One—would ensure their sacrifices were in good faith.

Every member there followed the caskets as they exited the scene. And every single officer present felt a renewed sense of duty, a reinvigorated dedication to the cause they had so fervently believed in.

They all came from different divisions, responsible for different tasks and missions. But now their psyche was revitalized, their morale refreshed.

Each of them would keep the peace. So help them God.