Chapter Ten: What Never Was
"It's not fair," was the first thing Alanna heard, ringing in a child's falsetto, "I want to go to Hogwarts."
She blinked, the world coming into focus again as a woman sighed and replied, "Next year, Lily. None of your siblings went until they were eleven either."
A child with hair as red as Alanna's scowled and looked up at her, eyes as wide as they could go. "Let me come with you, Alanna," she pleaded.
For a moment, she was confused, puzzled by her surroundings; then everything seemed to slide into place again. "Sorry Lily," she told the younger redhead, "Mum's right; none of us went until we were eleven." As Lily's brown eyes filled with tears of disappointment, Alanna added, "Don't worry, you'll get there. And once you do, you'll make Gryffindor for sure!"
Even so, Lily pouted as their father came in, his green eyes dancing at all of them. "Ready to go?" he asked his Hogwarts age children.
"Yes, sir," Lance replied from behind the veteran Auror. Alanna had decided to go along with their new guardians' request to call them 'Mum' and 'Dad,' but Lance stubbornly refused to, a decision he'd made when their new father ordered them to stop using their family magic.
"How much else does he expect us to give up, Alanna?" Lance had demanded that night, angry betrayal glittering in his eyes. "We can't change what we are, sis."
"Maybe I want to change what I am," Alanna retorted, hands on hips. "The family magic didn't save them, did it? Why not give it up?"
"Because it's our heritage!" Lance burst out. "It's all we have left!"
"No, Lancelot. It's all you have left," Alanna retorted before flouncing out of her brother's new room. The siblings hadn't spoken to each other since.
Dad sighed, turning to his brunet son. "How many times, Lancelot?" he scolded lightly.
Lance just shrugged; Alanna sighed as well. "I'm ready," she called, drawing attention away from her brother, though he pretended not to notice.
Their father's smile instantly returned and he ruffled her hair affectionately. "I remember when I was your age, about to get my first wand. It's a day you'll always remember."
She blinked, confused. She already had her wand…didn't she? And why did her brother look so upset? 'How much else does he expect us to give up…' A feeling of something being very wrong crawled up her spine, dissipating her anticipation for the trip to Diagon Alley.
She was standing on the catwalk above the mall, facing Tasha Redford's back as the girl stood on the edge, crying. Jules was about to call out to the girl when a voice came over her comm, harsh and, surprisingly, unfamiliar. "Get that girl off that ledge, Jules."
"C-copy," she acknowledged her Sergeant crisply. "Tasha," she called, "I'm going to step closer so you can hear me better." As she stepped forward, she added, "I'm stepping closer."
She glanced back at her teammate, Josiah, but he merely hiked an eyebrow at her and gestured for her to get on with it; after an instant, the look in his eyes turned mocking and it was clear he had no intention of offering either help or advice. A frown creased her face; she might be the primary negotiator, but backup was always nice. And, just to rub it in and make it worse, her Sergeant came back on the comm, impatiently snapping, "You gonna get that girl off the ledge or not?"
A grumble came from someone else. "Some lead negotiator she is."
Jules clenched her fists at the casual insult, but sadly she was very used to it by now. Add one girl to the old boys club and witness some of the most immature behavior known to man; what she wouldn't give for one ounce of real respect. If nothing else, she would've thought her team would at least respect negotiation a heck of a lot more than they actually did; nine times out of ten, they went hard tactical or lethal, without talking at all.
With an iron effort Jules dismissed her well-worn train of thought and took a steadying breath before she kept talking to Tasha, "Good. So, thanks for not jumping. Are you thinking you might?"
She might as well stop wishing for what never could be; a team that accepted her and supported her for who she was and what her talents were. A team that cared more about saving lives than racking up another takedown, like notches on a belt. But a trickle of something niggled at her heart, a feeling that something about this whole scenario was wrong, dead wrong, and she needed to figure out what before it was too late.
He was on a cliff ledge, hidden from view and aiming through his scope at his unit's latest target. Without thinking, he said, "I have the solution," then blinked in surprise at himself. That wasn't the right phrase…was it?
Matt's voice came over the radio, wry amusement marking every word. "Wow, Braddock, where'd you get that line from?" Without waiting for a response, Matt quipped, "Never mind, you're all clear, now let's blow this thing and go home."
Something about Matt's voice made a part of him keen in grief, as if Matt was dead…but that was impossible, he was on the radio. For a moment, the world felt completely off kilter, twisting around him. Sam shook himself, shivering at the sudden chill up his back. Wrong, the world felt wrong.
Then the moment passed; he got back to business and looked through his scope again. His gut spasmed, instincts howling warning; he was aiming at Brian Wilkins. Wait, what? How do I know who that guy is? "What the? Matt, are we sure this is the right guy?" he demanded, deciding to figure out what the heck was going on later. But the chill up his back intensified; wrong, something was wrong, and if he didn't figure out what, he was going to regret it.
There was a pause, then, "Yeah, it's the right guy. Why?"
Oh, this is so not good. "Because he's tied to a pole about two meters away from one of our handlers."
Wordy blinked and it felt like the ground underneath him heaved; then he realized he was just on a treadmill in the workout room. A careful look behind him revealed Ed on an exercise bike, blinking and looking just as bewildered as Wordy felt. Fortunately, the bewilderment only lasted a second; of course, once it faded he remembered the current situation they were in. Danny Rangford and all the alcohol he kept guzzling – on duty and off. Too bad Ed hadn't snagged the treadmill next to Wordy; they could have planned their latest gambit without anyone noticing. Before either he or Ed could switch machines, Danny poked his head into the workout room. His eyes were watery and bloodshot…as usual.
"Wrap it up, boys," Danny called. "We need to plan this Saturday's get-together at my place."
The other men flowed out of the workout room, enthusiastically trading notes on the upcoming party; Wordy deliberately lagged and noted Ed doing the same. Quiet, keeping his voice low, Wordy asked Ed, "Any ideas?"
Ed shook his head, keeping his own voice down. "We've already tried everything I can think of…I hate to say it, but we've only got one card left."
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Wordy said, "Holleran." When Ed nodded, he hissed, "Neither one of us is team leader, will Holleran even listen?"
Ed shrugged. "No way to know, but we'd better hope so."
They strolled into the briefing room, ignoring the slightly irritated look Danny gave them for delaying the discussion. "Okay, boys," Danny began, pointedly turning away from his two more…conscientious…team members, "I've got the beer, but if any of you want to bring your own, I won't object." Laughter ran around the room and only the two 'latecomers' didn't laugh. Instead they traded somber looks and even more somber agreement on their course of action.
If only they were on a team with a Sergeant who wasn't a lush on the job…one who took his subordinates seriously when they thought he had an issue or a problem. Or, even better, a Sergeant who respected his team regardless of whether they agreed with him all the time or not. Sure would be nice, Wordy thought, only to stop and pause…some part of him was insisting that they did have a Sergeant like that.
The ex-cop's feet hurt; he'd been walking for hours trying to find a new job. Trouble was, after washing out of the SRU, nothing really seemed to be opening up. Spike sighed as he kept walking, shoulders slumped with disappointment. His parents were happy that he wasn't a cop anymore, but he doubted they'd stay happy if he couldn't find work soon.
He felt a tingle up his back, a sense that something wasn't quite right; of course something wasn't right, he thought with a scowl. He'd gotten kicked out of a job he loved and was good at. His dream job and he'd failed miserably.
What went wrong? he wondered for what seemed like the umpteenth time, casting his gaze around. He'd worked hard to get into the SRU, even harder to stay there, but it seemed like no one really wanted the wunderkind who wasn't quite a typical SRU cop. None of the Sergeants seemed to know what to do with the quiet, slightly shy bomb tech and he'd been shuffled from team to team before finally getting the boot.
Shaking the pointless thoughts off, the ex-cop looked up at the hotel he'd found himself in front of. The Royal York and it had some sort of conference going on. Curious, Spike wandered in, ignoring the SRU cops on the door; once he was past, he realized he'd worked with them and felt rather grateful they hadn't noticed him.
He probably couldn't get into whatever conference was going on, but maybe he could find a place to sit down and think for a few minutes. He wandered out of the lobby, hardly noticing where his feet were taking him. My kingdom for a second chance, he thought morosely, Someone who'll give me a place to fit in. In his distraction, he never realized he'd trekked into the employees only area – close to a freight elevator that held a single occupant.
Lou looked around, taking in his patrol car, the old neighborhood, the worn streets, the tightness of a patrol uniform that had never quite fit right, and frowned to himself. Same old patrol route, same old streets, same old thing, day in and day out. Nothing happened, nothing ever changed; the most exciting thing that ever happened was the corner shop owner yelling and chasing the local teenagers out of his store for shoplifting. Lou liked being a cop, but sometimes…ugh…would it be so bad to have something new to do, a challenge to meet?
He finished his lunch, tossing it into the nearby trash barrel, and then climbed back into his trusty patrol car, stifling a sense of utter boredom. He started the car and pulled out, feeling a tug in his mind – a sense that something was off, something was wrong with the world around him. Before he could figure out what felt so wrong, his radio crackled. "All available units to First York Plaza."
He snatched up the radio, barking out a crisp, "Copy that." He floored the accelerator, snapped on the lights and siren. For an instant, the car around him shifted into a black truck and his patrol uniform blurred into an SRU uniform, then the illusion faded. But that instant was all it took for him to realize that his feeling of something wrong – was dead on right.
Morgana Le Fay sneered as she stood next to a cell with a very special occupant. The man, no…ghost, who stood inside the cell glared right back at her. "No one is coming for you," the witch gloated. "You will die, unmourned and alone."
"They'll come," the ghost replied, "My team won't give up on me." He looked pale and drawn, his resilience worn down to a nub and what clothes he still possessed were tattered rags. His refusal to give up and his stubborn will were the only reasons he was still on his feet, pitiful and yet it had been enough…the longer it took to break Parker's spirit, the longer she and Tolay were denied their ultimate goal.
Morgana smiled nastily, examining the crystal globe in her hand and affecting an air of unconcern. "Perhaps," she granted, gazing into the crystalline depths. After a beat, she concluded, "If they remember who they are."
"What did you do to them?" the ghost spat, throwing himself at the rocky bars. "If you've hurt them…" Rage shone in brown eyes; his emotions were much rawer and closer to the surface than usual, a side effect of his current state.
The witch laughed, throwing her head back as she chortled. "Nothing so uncouth; that takes all the fun out of it." She smirked at the ghost, triumph in every word, every line of her face. "No, just a little spell, a trifle really. But then," her smirk grew wider, "Even a small spell is more than your beloved team can fight against."
Even as she gloated and sneered, her globe gave a small thrum and her head snapped down to look in it; she scowled heavily without thinking. Curses…they may pull this off after all… Time to arrange a few final details. Without a word to the captive, she vanished in a swirl of wind and magic. Her captive stared at where she had been, shoulders slumped as his hope drained away. It was over.
Author note: I hope you are all enjoying the ride so far. In a RL status update, I will be starting a new job Monday August 14th, 2017. While I will do my dirty darnedest to keep to my current schedule of updating each Tuesday and Friday, this may change due to the new job. Or I may end up posting much later in the day. Either way, all things change, but I solemnly swear (that I am up to no good) that I will keep on a regular update schedule. It just may change a bit from what ya'll are used to from me.
Hope you're enjoying and since you took the time to read my little author note, please take a bit more time and tell me whatcha think so far!