Chapter One: Going to Ground
Author note: This story is the twenty-eighth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Trial By Moonlight".
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
Previously
"Spike," Sam called, waving the bomb tech over, "Could you run a quick search for either Lou or Jules' phones? I can't find them and the patrol Aurors say they never got the four hostages the subject released."
"Sam?" Spike questioned from his spot at his computer, sounding unnerved.
"You find them?"
Spike shook his head. "Both their phones are being blocked…and I mean, blocked like mine was when we got kidnapped."
Josiah growled. "Even rogues would not be so stupid as to attack the Muggle British Embassy. It must be the magical British Embassy; to do otherwise would put them afoul of the Statute of Secrecy." His attention turned to Parker. "I know of a place, far from both magical and Muggle communities where wolves can range without fear. Deep in the country, any humans would have nowhere to run as the moon rises."
The explosion roared like nothing Roy had ever heard before, not from a movie and not on the job. A second explosion followed the first, a shockwave of sound and thunder that pounded at both men, echoing into the night. Debris rained down around them, deflected by Onasi's hasty shield spell. Around them, the grass lit, fire glowing an instant before going out. Roy's ears rang as he pushed himself up, staring in shock at the building – or rather, what was left of it. Fire raged in the shell, licking at the jutting timbers and jagged walls.
"War," Giles managed from his position between Wordy and Sam. His face was wet with tears and grief was only just sinking in, but he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't think. "A war between worlds. And thousands will die before it's all over, on both sides."
"Not thousands," Parker disagreed, pale in the light of the full moon above them. "Millions."
Now
Three trucks and one sedan drove through the night; rain fell in sheets and thunder boomed in the distance. The rain had started shortly after they hit the highway, a highway that was almost empty as the night wore on. Despite the full day, none of the group was ready to call it quits yet. Greg Parker flicked on the radio, hoping, praying, that maybe Roy and Giles had been wrong, but the first news report, a triumphant announcement that the first of the newly discovered magical enclaves was being successfully subdued, nixed that hope. The second report was a grave retelling of the massacre that had touched off the chaos. The third was an interview with a prominent military official who admitted knowing about the magical world for years, only breaking his silence in the aftermath of the 'cowardly, repulsive' attack on the British Embassy. Greg switched the radio off, hoping that 'prominent military official' hadn't been General Braddock…Sam would be devastated if it was.
"Sarge?" Wordy called over the comm.
"Yeah, Wordy?"
"Want me to pick up the kids? I already have to pick up Shelley and the girls."
Wordy was the only one of them driving alone, for that precise reason…the group had, together, made the decision to go underground and see if they could do something, anything, to stop the madness. Lou and Jules were riding with Greg and Ed, while Spike and Sam drove the third truck, and Roy and Giles drove Roy's old, battered sedan.
"Thanks, Wordy, I'd appreciate that," Greg replied. "You call Shelley yet?"
"Roads are a little slick for that, Sarge," Wordy admitted.
"Okay, I'll call her, give her a heads up and then call the kids," Greg volunteered.
Wordy blew out a huff. "Thanks, Sarge."
Greg smiled to himself, pulling out his phone and flipping through the contacts. Shelley picked up with an anxious, "Kevin?"
"Shelley, it's Greg. Wordy's driving and it's a bit slick, so I said I'd call for him," Greg explained quickly.
The sound of Shelley dropping into a chair in relief came through the phone. "Oh, thank God. I've been watching all the reports, praying none of you were in that building when it blew…" Shelley sniffled a bit. "How could something like this happen, Greg?"
"I wish I knew," Greg admitted. "We're all fine, Shelley, but Wordy's going to come pick you, the girls, and my kids up…we're all heading for Ed's place to regroup and figure out what to do next."
"Okay," Shelley whispered after a few seconds. "Do you need to call the kids next or do you have time?"
"I need to call the kids," Greg informed her. "And it's probably best to talk face-to-face after tonight." At the whispered agreement, he hung up and hit the speed dial for his own home.
Lance picked up so fast, it was clear his nipote had been hovering next to the phone. "Uncle Greg?"
"Hey, kiddo," Greg greeted his nephew, forcing an upbeat tone. "Wordy's going to come pick up you and your sister for a sleepover at Ed's place."
The upbeat tone failed as Lance asked anxiously, "Is everyone okay?"
Greg sighed quietly, wishing the news was better. "We're okay, Roy's okay, and Giles is okay, but other than that…"
"They're gone," his nephew managed, so soft that Greg needed his gryphon hearing to make out the words. His own heavy sigh was all the confirmation needed. "We'll…we'll be ready to go when Uncle Wordy gets here," Lance promised, before hanging up.
The SRU Sergeant sighed again, letting his head drop back on the head rest. "What a mess," he muttered, loud enough for his teammates to hear him.
"That's one way to put it," Sam agreed from the third truck.
Ed's garage wasn't tall enough for the three SRU trucks, so Roy parked in the garage while Team One parked in the driveway, leaving space for Wordy's truck when it arrived. Inside, Ed raided the closets for sheets, pillows, and blankets while the remainder of Team One divvied up the living space and plotted out both dinner and the medical attention that Jules and Lou still needed. In the end, Greg handled the medical attention, leaving Sam and Spike free to help Ed get the living spaces set up and Roy free to handle Giles' breakdown as the shock wore off and reality set in.
Lou, worse off than Jules, admitted that when the four former hostages jumped himself and Jules, he'd been slammed into the wall nearby and cut his shoulder on a jagged area. Greg seethed when Lou added that the werewolves had been insistent that the injury would make it easier for Lou to be turned. Jules, aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, was unharmed; apparently, female werewolves were highly prized by the rogue pack, so Jules had gotten better treatment than Lou.
The Sergeant forced Lou to stay out of getting the living spaces set up, determined that Lou was not going to make his shoulder injury any worse by hauling things around. Satisfied that Lou would obey, Greg headed downstairs to lend a hand, but was redirected by Ed to where Roy and Giles were. As soon as Greg entered the room, he understood; a vase sailed straight at the negotiator's chest, narrowly missing Roy. Parker caught the vase and moved right into Giles' line of sight, his left hand snapping out an order for Roy to make himself scarce.
"Giles, stop, stop," Greg ordered. "This isn't helping and Sophie would scalp you if you broke the vase Eddie and Clark got her last year." He held up the vase, but kept a grip on it, suspecting that if Giles got it back, it would end up broken. The negotiator softened his tone. "I wish I could say something that would help, but I can't. I don't think it's sunk in yet for me, but you were there. You saw it happen, you saw all those people die, right in front of you."
Just like that, Giles turned on the veteran cop, screaming, "What do you care? You're just a Muggle, you're just like all the rest of them, jealous of our world, afraid of what we can do, what we were born to do. You're probably happy they're dead, happy my world is being destroyed while we just sit here!"
Greg let the other scream, let him rail and howl, without responding. When Giles ran out of words, panting for air, Greg deliberately lowered his voice, forcing Giles to lean forward to hear him. "I know it hurts, I know you're grieving, but my team and I did not cause tonight's events. If we could change what happened, I'd do it in heartbeat, but we can't. All we can do is save as many people as we can, but we can't do that while we're all exhausted and hurting."
Greg gripped Onasi's shoulder with his left hand, cradling Sophie's vase in his right arm. "Tomorrow, we're going to start doing everything we can to stop this…to end all of this…and we're going to need your help, Giles. It's your choice, your choice. But no matter what you choose, we've got your back, Giles. You hear me?"
Giles swallowed hard; Greg suspected that he'd only just hit denial…tonight was just too close for any more than that. The real breakdown was yet to come and, just as Greg had said, it hadn't sunk in for the Sergeant any more than it truly had for Giles. When it came, Greg had a feeling his entire team would need time…time they didn't have right now. Giles' voice, raspy with suppressed grief and his bout of screaming, finally came. "I hear you." He didn't apologize, but Greg didn't expect him to…not after watching his friends die like that. Greg squeezed the Auror's shoulder and left him alone…though Greg took Sophie's precious vase with him to store elsewhere.
"Soph, I'm okay, everyone here is okay," Ed reassured his distraught wife over the phone. "I'm sorry I wasn't answering my phone…we had a last minute hot call an hour or so before the Embassy got attacked. We didn't even find out until the call was done."
"What are you going to do, Ed?" Sophie whispered, her fear so blatant that Ed cringed.
"We don't know, Soph…we're all crashing here for tonight; we'll figure out what to do tomorrow." Ed hung his head, but forced the rest out. "Look, Soph, I got to go…Wordy's bringing Shelley, the girls, and Boss's kids over and I got to figure out where they're gonna sleep."
"Ed…just…stay safe, please."
"I'll try." He couldn't promise, not with a war already raging around them.
Greg picked up his phone on the second ring. "Commander Holleran, sir," he greeted briskly, leaving one arm free to wrap around his niece; his nephew hugged his other side, but was careful to stay clear of the phone.
"I assume you've heard the news?" Holleran asked gravely.
"We have, sir," Greg acknowledged. "I understand police units are already being called in to quell the violence." He carefully did not add what else was going on.
Holleran snorted. "Let's skip the pretty words, Sergeant, and call this what it is: a bloodbath that's only going to get worse. Just tell me: was the attack on the Embassy authorized by the magical government?"
"No, sir," Greg replied, letting a touch of anger into his voice. "In fact, the civilians who reported several rumors they'd heard all believed that any attack would be against the magical British Embassy, because to attack the non-magical Embassy would be sheer lunacy. The last thing the magical government wanted was an open attack against a non-magical target because that would put the Statute of Secrecy at risk."
Holleran was silent a minute, considering his subordinate's words. The he sighed. "I believe you, Sergeant, but no one else will. Not with the number of folks who've come out of the woodwork claiming otherwise. Do whatever you have to do to stop this; I'll take the heat."
"Yes, sir, we will," Greg promised, grateful that Commander Holleran, at least, believed them. Now if only he could figure out a halfway decent way to stop the madness.
It was, ironically, Lance who tipped the row of dominos when he burst out at dinner, "It's like we're in Hell or something."
Without thinking, Spike quipped, "No, it's Hill Valley, although I can't imagine Hell being much worse!" The tech looked up from his meal, blinking at the quizzical look from Giles and the stunned looks from his team. "Back to the Future, Part Two," he explained to the Auror, before slumping down a bit further. "Too bad we don't have a Delorean time machine," he lamented. "Then maybe we could keep all of this from ever happening."
To Spike's shock, Lou mused, "Who says we don't." Turning to Giles, he asked, "Any way to time travel…magically?"
Giles drew back, opening his mouth, then closing it. "Actually," he replied, "Yeah, we do." And for the first time since the explosion, there was a trace of hope in his voice.
Author note: Okay, I accidentally posted this without an author's note, so here's just a quick blurb. I'm currently in Plano, Texas and I'll be working in Dallas, Texas. I'm apartment-hunting at the moment, so please pray for that, and I'll be starting next Monday.