Chapter Two: The First Secrets
"Wordy?" Ed asked, keeping his voice low. Between Sam's concussion, Jules' broken leg, and his own near death, Commander Holleran had been able to get Team One assigned to secondary status.
As far as the rest of the SRU was concerned, Team One was being punished for their role in the attack on the barn. Team Two had been gleeful, but Teams Three and Four had protested, arguing that the attack had been beyond Team One's control. Holleran acknowledged the argument, then steam-rolled over it; Team One knew the most about magic, they should've been able to protect themselves from the Imperius.
Only Team One knew the real reason was a very much alive Greg Parker – and their own flat refusal to leave their miraculously alive boss alone. For the first two days, the team had been on a rotation, never leaving their Sergeant by himself – Sam and Jules had been indignant when Ed refused to let them stay overnight until cleared by the Healers. Although he really should've added Spike to that list; the bomb tech had won the Rock, Paper, Scissors contest for who got to stay the first night…then ended up sleeping the whole night through, much to his chagrin the next morning.
"He woke up," Wordy replied, voice just as low.
Relief blasted through Ed and he had to turn away to hide the intensity of his emotions. Keeping the truth from Sophie and Clark was killing him, but once Greg was safe, he could tell them. Let them share in his joy to have his brother back. With a rough nod, the Sergeant turned back to his team leader. "How's he doing?"
Gray flickered. "He panicked," Wordy explained flatly. "Once he realized it was me, he calmed down. I saw him shivering, too, but the room's not that cold." The big constable paused, then sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Ed…he's having trouble talking."
"Trouble talking?" Ed echoed, confusion plain. "What, is his throat ripped up?"
Wordy shook his head. "No, he can talk," the brunet insisted, hands flexing and gesturing in unconscious emphasis. "But…" The constable stopped, scowling as he tried to frame his explanation. "It's…it's like he forgot how to speak English. Nothing's garbled, but it's like trying to decode half a cipher or something."
"What else?" Ed asked, watching his friend closely. Wordy was upset, even if he was doing his best to hide it. The sniper could sympathize – Greg's physical state was bad enough, but the thought of psychological damage…that was nightmare inducing.
The big man's expression tightened, Wordy almost at war with himself over something, then he huffed and absently rubbed at his buzzcut. It had grown out a bit more than usual, leaving the brunet with enough hair to displace. Finally, gray eyes closed. "He, ah, he wanted you to tell me something."
"About?" Ed prodded.
A faint shrug. "Some spot on his back…that has to do with his gryphon form?" Curiosity rang, backed by an inquisitive glance.
Ed stiffened. "Just you?"
"Everyone," Wordy replied. A beat, then, "And, um, Ed?"
The Sergeant stiffened even further, scenting a bombshell he wasn't going to like. "Yeah?"
"He doesn't want the kids to know he's alive."
Ed was vaguely aware of his jaw dropping open and the feel of his eyes bugging out.
"Yeah, that's about how I reacted," Wordy said, tone rueful. "Told him that Castor Troy's dead, but he didn't care. Made me promise not to tell them."
His jaw clicked shut. "You promised?" he hissed.
Wordy nodded. "Ed, he was frantic. And he wants to see them, I could tell, but he still insisted on them staying away."
The tactician's brain ground back into gear. "Something's up," he concluded.
"That's what I figure." Wordy dropped his voice as low as he could. "Sarge knows something we don't. Maybe he doesn't even remember what he knows, but he knows it."
Ed frowned, turning the situation over in his mind. "Wordy…Holleran said Troy had a thing for families…"
"And that's why Sarge's kids had to be with me ASAP," Wordy finished. "To keep Castor Troy from realizing they existed."
"What if it wasn't just Troy we had to hide them from?" Lane ventured. It was a frightening thought – and the possibility was enough for Ed to second his boss's decision. The kids were going to hate them, but at least they'd be alive to hate the team. "Okay, Holleran asks, we say it was Greg's call."
"Copy," Wordy acknowledged quietly.
"Go get the others; might as well do it all at once."
"In his room?" Wordy asked.
Ed nodded. "Wordy, I don't doubt you, but this… I need to ask myself."
Wordy's expression softened. "Copy that, Boss."
Neal was inside the small room when Ed arrived, slathering on the next round of potions and whistling to himself as he worked. Lane paused, leaning against the door frame so he could observe. Parker was awake and the sniper could see his friend's hands had already been treated; Greg had managed to position himself so he could watch Neal working on the soles of his feet, resting on his arm, palm up. The other arm hung free, palm turned away from the bed.
In the relative silence, Ed considered the young Auror. Neal had taken his father's assignment seriously, turning up three times a day with the prescribed potions. There was no sign of the sleeping potion, but the whole team had known that was only for the first two days. An empty vial of nutrient potion sat on a chest high conjured table about a meter away from the bed; next to it was a squat jar of the paste-like potion intended for Greg's hands; Neal had the final jar in hand, though he looked to be about done with the latest application. It really made Ed wonder why the young wizard had given up becoming a Healer in favor of being an Auror.
"Oh." Neal blinked at his unexpected company. "Sergeant Lane. I'll just…"
Ed held up a hand and moved into the room. "Go ahead and finish up, Neal, it's okay." As the young Auror nevertheless bustled through the last of his task, the sniper strode to Greg's side, automatically dropping his hand to his friend's shoulder. The gaunt man didn't speak, though his smile and the way hazel lit up spoke volumes all by themselves. In short order, they were alone and the conjured table had vanished back into nothingness.
"Eddie."
"Hey, Boss, how you doing?" Ed asked, squeezing Greg's shoulder and doing his best to not flinch at the rasp in his friend's voice.
Greg's brow furrowed, expression twisting before he spoke, each word slow and halting. "I…home… Glad…" He stopped, frustration blazing.
"Easy, Greg, easy," Ed coached, finally understanding what Wordy had been trying to tell him. "It's only been what, three days? Give yourself a break."
"Need…words…"
"And they'll come, buddy," Lane murmured, letting his intensity show. "We got time." He released Greg's shoulder and crouched, meeting hazel squarely. "Greg. Are you sure you want them to know?"
The other Sergeant didn't misunderstand. He returned the stare and nodded. "Eddie. All…of it…" Frustration shone again. "Too…many…secrets…"
Ed sighed. "Greg, time and place. I'll tell them about that little discovery we made, but I'm not telling them about the…other stuff." He hesitated, then confessed, "I wouldn't even know how to explain it right."
For a long minute, both men regarded each other, then Greg inclined his head. "Show…them?"
The lean sniper didn't like it, but as he gazed back at his friend, his brother-by-heart, he saw the telltale signs of a man in pain. "You could have asked Neal for another pain potion," Ed chided, but his heart wasn't in it. He knew why Greg hadn't.
"Ed?"
The men craned around, then Ed tilted his head, inviting Jules and Sam in. Wordy, Spike, and Lou caught up a few seconds later; the team leader closed the door after them, then Team One ranged around their Sergeants as Ed helped Greg lay flat on the bed, careful not to touch his hands or jar them against anything.
Done, Ed straightened, though he dropped one hand down to his boss's back. "Okay…as everyone can see, the Boss is back with us."
Greg twitched a smile as their teammates let out a quiet cheer.
"Three days in and with any luck, only four more to go," Ed added. A brief frown. "But just so we're all on the same page, Greg's made the call to keep the kids in the dark for now. Later," he added at the instinctive protests forming.
The four constables subsided, but Jules cocked her head to the side. "Ed? Something else up?"
Sighing, Ed nodded. "Guys, we're gonna take this slow, but…" He grimaced, mentally flailing for the best words…and silently cursing Greg's unexpected disability. "Short version, there's been some…"
"Secret keeping?" Wordy suggested lightly.
The Sergeant's second grimace confirmed the suggestion. "Yeah." A hesitation. "Too much for one go, team."
Lou cleared his throat. "Ed, I think we all knew that."
Next to him, Spike nodded somberly. "Boss's been turtling in for awhile."
"Had to be something goin' on," Sam finished.
Abashed, Ed was about to speak again when a sudden thought jabbed. Blue narrowed and he cast a glance down at Greg. "Okay, I was gonna start with one of the smaller ones…but…" The sniper waited until his friend glanced up, surprised at the pointed halt. "Greg, why didn't you ever call for help?"
"After the fire," Wordy tacked on, following Ed's train of thought. "Why walk all the way home when you could've just used the 'team sense'?"
Understanding bloomed, coupled with shame and dismay. "Couldn't," Greg croaked out. Remembered helplessness shone in hazel eyes. "I…tried…" For an instant, hazel blinked closed. "Tried…to shift…first…" A cringe. "Couldn't…hurt." Tears leaked down. "Hurt…so much…"
Ed's jaw fell open in horror. "Wait a minute. The collar that wouldn't let you transform…that's why you couldn't call for help?"
A rough, jerky nod.
"And it hurt you?" Sam blurted, equal horror ringing.
Frustration blazed and Ed knew they were missing something. Instinctively, he moved his hand from the back of the sweatshirt Greg was wearing to the base of his neck, palm touching bare skin. As soon as he made contact, the 'team sense', dormant for over four months, roared back to life within him. Beneath him, he felt Greg jerk.
'Eddie?' Mixed guilt and hope rang in the mental voice.
'I hear you, Boss.' Ed pulled his hand back. "Guys, one at a time." At their confused looks, he sighed. "We've had him back three days, but the 'team sense' still isn't working." He indicated the back of Greg's neck. "Until now."
It took a minute, then Sam took a half-step back, understanding glimmering in blue eyes. He moved forward, but reached for Greg's arm instead of his back. Ed watched as the blond made contact, a flare of silver and scarlet dancing around his fingers for an instant. His teammates followed and Ed marveled silently at the simplicity of the solution. Skin-to-skin contact…so absurdly simple – and how the third incarnation of the 'team sense' had been established in the first place.
Greg twitched at each touch, yet Ed could feel his friend's relief. Once the 'team sense' was fully 'online', the Sergeant arched a brow. 'Greg?'
'I'm here, Eddie.'
Ed nearly collapsed in relief. Whatever physical problems Greg was having, his mind was fully intact, if struggling to readjust. They could deal with that, no problem. He forced his own mental voice to stay even and level. 'You wanna try that again, buddy?'
The moment hung, then Greg jerked a nod. 'Fair enough, Eddie.' Turning his attention to the whole team, he said, 'Ed and Sam are right. The collar kept me from shifting back and from being able to communicate.' A deep breath. 'When I first woke up, I tried to shift back three times.' A cringe and Ed felt a surge of foreign panic; from the winces, his teammates felt the same panic. 'I didn't try again after that.'
'What about when you tried to reach us?' Wordy asked anxiously. 'Did it hurt you then?'
Parker shook his head. 'No, it didn't. I…I thought it might, but it just…' Frustration shone. 'I could tell you were all still alive and I knew you guys were a really long way away from me, but… It was like trying to talk on a busted comm.'
The form beneath his hand was tensing once more and Ed deliberately started rubbing Greg's sweet spot, the movement slow, but firm and steady. Out loud, he murmured, "Easy, buddy, easy. We hear you."
In a soft, stricken tone, Sam whispered, "You had to come to us…because we thought you were dead and we weren't even looking…"
"Sam, even if we had known, what could we have done about it?" Jules asked, unhappy, but practical. "Sarge was in Colorado; we would've started looking here, in Toronto."
"Standard search pattern," Lou agreed, just as unhappy.
"Ed, what are you doing?" Wordy asked suddenly, drawing all attention back to the two Sergeants.
Ed kept rubbing, amused that Wordy had caught onto what he was doing so quickly. Beneath him, Greg was relaxing, steadily dropping towards falling asleep.
'Eddie…'
The movement slowed and halted at the mix of plea and order in Greg's mental voice. "Back on track, Boss?"
'I'm not your boss any more, Eddie,' Greg chided, relaxed and sleepy, but still awake enough to follow the conversation.
Ed tisked. "You and Holleran." Very gently, he rapped his friend's skull. "Get it through your head, Greg. You're Team One. We don't care what lies IS made you tell us, you are still SRU and you are still on our team."
Spike twitched a smirk. "What Ed said," he agreed.
"Sarge?" Wordy asked, "You up for that little secret or…" A pause and a fidget. "Sarge, if you need a break, we can do that."
Murmurs of agreement came from the others, but Ed caught the telltale signs of the infamous Parker stubborn streak in Greg's tensing shoulders and the determination on his face. He huffed and shook his head. "And you call me stubborn, Parker."
'Of course I do, Eddie,' came the immediate tease.
Ed rolled his eyes. "Okay, guys, gotta backtrack some." Without waiting for them to respond, he pointed at Spike. "Scarlatti, you remember that hot call way before Fletcher Stadium?" At the bomb tech's blank look, he prodded, "South side, easy warrant…?"
Spike cringed. "Yeah, you guys went in, but Sarge and I got jumped."
It had been a mess, no two ways about it; the subjects had lived thanks to Greg calling in Healers rather than EMS, but they'd had to be Obliviated and only the fact that Parker hadn't had a clue he could hit that hard kept him out of trouble.
"Eddie, I nearly killed them," Greg whispered, anguish shining in hazel eyes as he sat, almost huddled up on the locker room bench.
Ed didn't reply, just stayed by his friend and tried to think. Every member of the team knew hand-to-hand, but his boss had always been the weakest of the team in that respect, dependent on his words and his sidearm in a pinch. He knew enough to meet SRU regs, but it was the team's job to protect the negotiator, so Greg had never needed to improve on that weaker area of his professional life.
Until raw Animagus strength had turned the Boss into a near-lethal combatant. The Healers hadn't been happy; the damage to all three men was bad enough that once they finally got released from St. Mungo's, they'd be heading to jail minus about a week of memories. Greg had done that, singlehandedly and without breaking a sweat.
Think, Lane, think. There had to be a way; it wasn't Greg's fault that he had the same physical strength as a full grown gryphon, but if he couldn't hold back… More than a bit not good. An idea prodded and the officer frowned. "Greg?"
His friend stiffened, then glanced over. "Ed?"
"What if…what if you learn how to fight?"
One eyebrow arched. "Eddie, I know how to fight."
"You know the basics," Ed corrected. "I'm sayin', let's see what you can do, push you as far as we can – and then we figure out how you don't go all out."
Hazel darkened. "Ed, I don't want to hurt you."
The sniper returned his friend's worried gaze with near perfect calm. "And I'd rather not end up with broken bones. That's what we've got wizards for, Greg. They've gotta have training dummies or something we can use."
Spike's jaw hung open and the rest of the team wasn't all that far behind. They'd all known that particular call had been a mess, but only Ed and Greg had known about the three near fatalities. After a moment, Spike managed to clear his throat and ask, "So that's why you and the Boss made sure the Command Truck was always near unis and patrol cars after that?"
Ed nodded, glad the raven had caught on. "Yeah, Spike. We sure didn't want a repeat – especially since you got a cracked skull." He sucked in a breath. "Even on an easy call, we shouldn't have left you two unguarded anyway, Spike. It was stupid and we were lucky no one died."
Somber nods went 'round the room. Sam leaned forward, undeniable interest in his eyes. "So, did it work?"
The Sergeant returned the blond's gaze and nodded once. "Took a lot of work," he admitted ruefully. "Sometimes it was one step forward, two steps back, especially when Greg and I got to the point where we started sparring…"
Ed bit back a slew of swears as he knelt next to Greg. Right in the middle of a swing, his boss had panicked, trying to stop his own punch. He'd done it; how, Ed hadn't a clue, but from the way his friend had collapsed immediately afterwards, the sniper had a nasty feeling that Greg had thrown his back out.
Gently, he reached out, prodding at Parker's back and wincing at the soft keens coming from the other man. "Easy, Boss, it's okay," he murmured. When Parker could only manage another whimper, Ed frowned. "Greg? Need me to get a Healer?"
Greg shook his head frantically and Ed swallowed a sigh. If only his boss wasn't so darn stubborn. The rest of the team should know about what was going on, but Greg had begged him to keep quiet, shame lacing every word as he refused to look up. Ed knew he could go get the on-duty Healer, but if he did that, Holleran would find out. The team would find out.
Shaking his head, Ed muttered, "Okay, you asked for it, then, Greg." Gingerly, he felt his way down the Sergeant's back, searching for what was wrong. A hand-span from the top, he stopped, feeling a lump of something, clearly out of place. Rationality shrieked, but Ed ignored it, adjusting his position to cautiously rub at the spot, trying to get a better idea of what he'd found.
To his surprise, Greg relaxed underneath his touch, tension draining as Ed kept rubbing. The lump slipped back down and into place, drawing a slight shudder from the stocky man, but as the team leader kept up, the Sergeant continued to relax.
"Greg? That better?"
His only reply was an indistinct mumble; alarmed, Ed quickly checked the rest of Greg's back, but there was nothing else out of place. It took a minute, but his friend stirred, almost as if he'd…as if he'd fallen asleep!
Startled, Ed asked, "Greg? You okay?"
A mutter, a murmur, then Greg shifted, discreetly stretching. A quiet, but matter-of-fact, "Oww," drew a snicker. The Sergeant rolled his shoulders, then pushed himself up a bit, testing his back. "Thanks, Eddie."
Ed ignored the incredulous looks he and Greg were getting, though he felt his friend shifting in embarrassment underneath his hand. "We tested that spot a couple more times," he explained, determined to finish the explanation so they could move on and pretend he'd never said anything about their boss's, ahem, weak point. "Even when he tried, Greg could never stay awake for more than a minute." A shrug. "We finally pulled Lance in."
"So that's why," Wordy muttered. In the background, Ed smirked as the rest of the team swung to their team leader. The brunet offered a shrug of his own. "Sarge said something about his gryphon form." He turned back to Ed. "Am I right? It's his Animagus form?"
The Sergeant inclined his head. "Hole in one," he agreed. "It's small and subtle, but that spot, right between his wings…it's right about where a gryphlet would get picked up, just like a lion cub." Deliberately, he reached down, rubbing at the sweet spot. Greg didn't protest and it took less than thirty seconds before he was asleep. Without stopping, Ed added, "About the other thing. He doesn't like to talk about it much, but he probably could've taken Collins out that day at the stadium."
"Then why didn't he?" Sam demanded.
Lou shook his head. "Sam, I bet he didn't wanna accidentally kill the guy. Even if it meant he ended up where he did."
"That's right, Lou," Ed confirmed. "Once the Boss is back on his feet again, I'll see if I can talk him into adding you guys to the sparring roster." He grinned at the askance looks. "I might've been the teacher at first, but his gryphon side…" An awed, remembering shake of the head. "…his gryphon side knows how to fight. Once we got that instinct to kick in, he was beating me nine times outta ten. Never left me with anything more than bruises." The Sergeant left out that he'd picked up more than a few tricks in the process. His teammates were smart; they'd figure that out.
Spike whistled, but held up one hand, counting on his fingers. "So…that's what, three secrets, all before lunchtime?"
His fellow constables snickered and Ed dropped his chin, trying not to laugh. Trust Spike to lighten the mood. "Sounds about right," he concurred. Bringing his head up, he met his teammates' gazes. "All of you okay with this? Taking it slow?"
They traded glances, then Jules replied, "Ed, we're okay." She smiled, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. "At least you're telling us now."
Respect warmed his veins; they'd known he and Greg were holding back, but they'd kept quiet. Not pushing, just offering the same trust that had gotten all of them through the past five years. Appreciation shone, along with a touch of chagrin. "Yeah, we're telling you now," Ed whispered, wishing, in his heart of hearts, that they hadn't waited so long.
"Ed." All attention swung to Sam, the blond sniper's expression serious. "He wasn't ready. We get that." A tiny smile emerged. "We're just glad he told you."
The tall, lean sniper had to duck his head to hide the sudden lump in his throat. "Copy," he murmured. For a beat, he closed his eyes, then he glanced up again. "Okay. Who's up on rotation?"
"Me."
"Me."
The computer techs promptly glared at each other and their teammates sniggered. Ed's free hand covered his mouth to conceal the smile. He was about to speak when the door banged open.
Team One whirled, reflexively reaching for their weapons before they registered Commander Holleran's presence. The SRU commander's face was ashen.
"Sir?" Ed demanded, heart pounding.
Holleran's throat worked, then he whispered, "They know."
