Chapter Five: Faith of a Child

Wordy swallowed internally when Spike and Lou came back with Junior Auror Sciuto, expressions grim. Sciuto was wringing her hands, a nervous look on her face. All of that combined to convince Wordy that this potion wasn't your average De-Aging Potion.

"Ummm, Aur…"

"Lieutenant Parker will do, Constable Sciuto," Sarge broke in, tone intent, but kindly.

"Oh… Of course… Yes, sir." Sciuto nibbled her lip for a moment. "I've analyzed the traces in the vial Commander Holleran asked me to look at, but they're not like anything I've ever seen before."

Sarge frowned thoughtfully. "Will it run out on its own?"

"I don't know, sir. I mean, it should, but…"

"But we can't count on that," Sarge finished.

The Junior Auror's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "No, sir." The potioneer made a face. "I was able to identify all the ingredients and their composition, but like I said, it's nothing I've ever run across before."

Wordy frowned. "What about a second opinion?" he suggested.

The young witch opened her mouth, eyed Sam, and paused. When she spoke, her tone was hesitant, but more due to her caution than true uncertainty. "I have a…research method that let me compare this composition to all known…compounds."

"No match," Spike concluded, earning a quiet shake of the head from Sciuto.

"Only…exclusive compounds would be excluded."

Dang it all. "Family secrets."

"Or if it's really old?" Lou ventured.

The big constable's scalp prickled. "The Old Religion?"

Sciuto considered the suggestion, then offered a tentative nod. "Possible," she admitted.

It wasn't the news any of them had been hoping for, but Wordy quirked a smile regardless. "That means we can get a second opinion."

The young witch looked confused, but his teammates grinned back and Sarge tossed him a thumbs up, understanding perfectly well who Wordy was suggesting. Merlin.

"Constable Sciuto, do you have a printout of this compound's ingredients and composition?" Sarge asked.

"Yes, sir," the Junior Auror replied, pulling out a neat stack of parchment.

Sarge took the bundle with a nod. "Thank you for putting a rush on this, Constable. We'll take it from here."

"Yes, sir," Sciuto acknowledged. "Good luck."

Sarge smiled at that, but waited for her to depart. Once she had, he faced the team. "I'll go clear this with Commander Holleran."

"Copy that," Ed said. "We'll keep an eye on Sam."

"Thanks, Ed."

But as Sarge headed for the briefing room's door, Sam went from calm and content to squirming wildly. Ed tried to keep hold, shifting his De-Aged fellow sniper to get a better grip on him. Without warning, Sam aimed a kick at the Sergeant's gut; Ed let go with a woof. Spike dove in, catching Sam, but the little blond thanked him with a bite to one hand. The bomb tech yelped, dropping Sam the last few inches to the floor.

Sarge cut in, yanking Sam out of the melee. "Lou! Get Spike to the on-duty Healer! Eddie, you okay?"

As Lou hauled Spike away, grimacing at the blood on his friend's bitten hand, Ed coughed, sucking in air, but nodded. "No harm, Boss."

Immediate injuries dealt with, Sarge turned to Sam even as Wordy and Jules automatically closed with their teammates. Wordy gave Ed an anxious onceover, only to get waved off as the other man coughed one last time and straightened, regaining his wind with a few deep breaths. Sarge's hazel narrowed and Wordy knew why. Five years old or not, Sam darn well knew better. The kick to Ed's gut was one thing and even understandable under the circumstances. But the bite to Spike's hand was another matter. Bites had a nasty habit of becoming infected.

"Samuel Willard Braddock, what did you think you were doing?" Sarge demanded.

Mentally, Wordy gawked. Sam's middle name was Willard? And Sarge knew it?

In front of the big constable, the little blond wilted at the angry words. "You were leaving me!" he cried out in objection.

"So instead of saying something, you thought it was acceptable to kick one person and bite another?"

Sam wilted further, shame materializing. "No, sir."

Sarge said nothing for several long moments. When he spoke again, his tone was even, but firm. "I expect you to apologize to both Sergeant Lane and Constable Scarlatti. There will be no more kicking or biting any member of the SRU. Is that understood?"

The miniature sniper hung his head. "Yes, sir." Turning on the spot, he gazed up at Ed with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sergeant Lane."

Wordy caught his breath in surprise. Except for Sarge, none of them had told Sam their ranks or last names. So how did the little boy know? Sarge's hazel gleamed, a spark of victory shining. He said nothing about Sam's uncanny ability to recognize his teammates' identities despite his lack of conscious memory. Instead he gave a short, approving nod.

"Wordy, would you mind?" the stocky man asked, gesturing to the five-year-old.

"I got it, Boss," Ed countered before Wordy could reply. He crouched to look Sam in the eye. "Don't do that again, kiddo. That's a long way to fall for you."

"Yes, sir," Sam acknowledged. He let his fellow sniper pick him up again, still downcast after the rebukes he'd just received.

The Sergeant glanced at the briefing room's back exit, shoulders slumping a touch at the realization that Spike and Lou were still gone. Wordy made a face, understanding the problem. Moving on before Sam had apologized to Spike wasn't the best way to reinforce that the little boy shouldn't repeat his stunt, but they needed to resolve this situation as soon as possible. And Sam wasn't likely to remember anything that had happened during his De-Aging anyway. At least Wordy hoped so; his teammate was almost as bad with guilt trips as Sarge when things went wrong.

Shifting back to Sarge, Ed remarked, "Looks like we're coming with you, Greg."

Sarge nodded, easily reading between the lines. "Sam." He waited until the blond was focusing on him, then said, "You can apologize to Spike later, but I need to talk to my boss right now."

Observing the three, Wordy had a feeling it wasn't completely necessary for Sam to stay close to Sarge. Having been reprimanded for his behavior, the little boy wasn't likely to attack Team One again anytime soon, but the big constable understood Sarge's reasoning. Sam was running on pure instinct and that instinct had latched onto Sarge. Best to keep the De-Aged constable in his comfort zone until they could fix the problem.

Clearing his throat, the brunet pulled attention to himself. "Ed, I'll let you know how Spike's doing."

"Copy that, Wordy," the Sergeant agreed. "Workout room when Lou and Spike come back."

"You got it, Boss." Beside him, Jules nodded, still upset over the situation. Well aware that Sam's De-Aging was harder on his girlfriend than the rest of them, Wordy didn't push it. Time and place, plus the couple did have official dispensation to date these days.

Ed bit back a grimace at Winnie's concerned expression; the dispatcher had heard the shouts and seen Greg duck back into the briefing room right after leaving it, so she knew something had happened. The Boss paused by her desk and Ed kept Sam distracted with a question or two while Greg brought Winnie up to speed. When he was done, the stocky man looked back, hazel meeting blue in silent understanding.

The Sergeant moved forward, checking his stride to match his friend's. Greg's feet were a lot better than they had been, no question about that, but he still had a long way to go. Truthfully, Ed knew that applied to more than just the physical issues. Greg might've told the team all of his secrets, but that didn't change the long-term guilt and stress. Didn't take away what Greg had gone through during his undercover stint and his later trek home. His friend had internalized his guilt and self-hatred, accepted total isolation as normal, and adopted secretive, need-to-know habits. There was no quick fix for any of that, a truth Ed was loathe to accept – he wanted his friend back. All the way back, not struggling to cope and re-adjust.

Deliberately, Ed bumped Greg's shoulder with his own, offering a quick grin at the other man's askance look. Hazel automatically accessed him, an instinctive wary light shining before Greg smiled back. But for all that he smiled, his shoulders were tight and defensive, and his eyes reminded Ed of Carl Elias. Searching for the trap and unable to trust. A few seconds later, his friend resurfaced, the smile turning genuine as his body relaxed and hazel warmed.

"How you doing, Greg?"

One eyebrow arched. "Is now really the time to be asking me that, Eddie?"

"Yes." At Greg's incredulous expression, Ed shook his head. "Greg, you went through hell. Sam needs help, but you need it more, buddy."

"I'm fine, Ed."

"Yeah," the Sergeant drawled. "Try that on somebody who doesn't know you like I do. You haven't been fine since Fletcher Stadium." Before, even, but Ed knew darn well and good that most of their current problems stemmed from that day.

"Listen with your heart," Sam piped up.

Ed shook his head. "You get that from a movie or something, kiddo?" The blond's pout answered the question. "Sometimes, Sam, you can't trust your heart just like that. It's really good at lying or telling you what you wanna hear."

Sam considered that. "Then what do you trust?"

"Sometimes you trust your head," Greg replied. "Or a good friend who knows you better than you know yourself." Hazel sparkled at Ed as he spoke, then sobered. "I'm not the only one who suffered, Eddie. You guys went through a hell of your own."

"Yeah, we did," Ed acknowledged, not denying it. "But Greg, that was not your fault. Or Holleran's either. It was their fault. The Troys and whoever sent you off to Colorado." He paused deliberately. "Greg, having you back…that's all we ever needed, buddy. We got a few more scars, but that's all. You got the worst of it." Just like always.

Hazel eyes darkened. "Shelley told me that Wordy's been sneaking into the guest room during the nights."

Mentally, Ed winced. Every member of Team One was guilty of that – and Greg probably already knew. Which meant Greg was talking about more than just Wordy's midnight wanderings… Oh. If he hadn't been holding Sam, the Sergeant would've whacked himself upside the head. "Give it some time, Boss."

The lieutenant turned away, lowering his head for an instant. "That's what Shelley said." Without waiting for a reply, Greg strode ahead and knocked on Commander Holleran's door.

"Enter!"

The two officers entered. Inside, the commander was seated at his desk, working on paperwork, but he abandoned it at the sight of his visitors. "Any news from Constable Sciuto?"

Greg made a face. "She was able to analyze the composition, sir, but there wasn't a match to any known substances. We're either looking at a recipe that's been refined by a particular family or something…old."

Commander Holleran's eyes sharpened behind his glasses. "Any ideas on how we can narrow it down, Lieutenant?"

"Emrys," Greg replied simply. "He would be familiar with all the old compounds and he might even know some of the family specific recipes."

The commander allowed a soft hum as he considered. Glancing up again, one brow quirked. "I take it young Sam refused to be parted from you, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," Greg confirmed. "He was very…adamant about his opinion on the matter."

Ed shifted, his gut cringing at the reminder of Sam's razor-accurate kick. Any lower and Sophie would've been very unhappy. Still, he said nothing and kept his expression calm.

Holleran eyed them suspiciously, but finally nodded acceptance. "I'll have Winnie make the call, Lieutenant Parker."

Greg stiffened subtly, caught off guard. Ed was just as surprised; he'd expected Greg to be the one to make the call to Merlin. Why was Holleran delegating the task to someone who didn't know nearly as much about the situation? "Commander?" the Sergeant ventured.

Dark eyes flicked to him, then back to Greg. "Once Emrys arrives, I'm sure Team One can brief him on the situation and assist him with finding a solution. In the meantime, Lieutenant, I can start walking you through your new duties." The commander paused. "Greg, you can't do everything anymore."

"I know that, sir. I've never done everything on my own," the stocky lieutenant pointed out.

Holleran grunted, unimpressed. "You're used to leading from the front, Lieutenant. Having the final say on a situation, even if you aren't the primary negotiator for a call." A tiny smile quirked at Greg's instant fidget. "That's not a bad thing, Lieutenant. That's been your life as an SRU Sergeant."

"But I'm not a Sergeant anymore," Greg whispered.

"That's correct," the commander agreed. "First lesson. It's lonely at the top. You have more responsibilities, more paperwork, and politics with everyone from City Hall to SIU. There's never enough time in a day to get everything done and delegation is an essential survival tactic. The budget's never balanced and new gear usually means you have to cut working hours somewhere."

Ed swallowed hard at this fresh perspective of the SRU. "Everyone wants a slice of the pie?" he asked.

"That's part of it, Sergeant Lane," Holleran acknowledged. "But you've also got the politicians who run on 'balancing the budget' and cutting the city's debt. Police and firefighters are an easy target for most of 'em. Means they don't have to cut into their pet projects, tighten their own belts, or look hard at what the city really needs these days."

"Easy to add a new department or service; not as easy to take it away," Greg observed, earning a nod.

"It's an endless spiral and for all that the SRU has an outstanding reputation, we've been hit hard the past couple of years."

Stocky shoulders tightened and hazel focused on the commander with laser intensity. "Since Geb Romulus joined the mayor's office, sir?"

His subordinate blinked, then tilted his head to the side. It made a certain amount of sick sense. Attack the SRU, even obliquely, and score a few points against the Troy siblings' old enemy. Triple points if he didn't even realize it until after the fact.

Commander Holleran considered the same, then sighed. "It's possible, Lieutenant, but we've also been working on two sides of Toronto life for the past couple of years."

Greg winced. "With the budget for one side," he concluded, sorrow shining. For a moment, he hesitated, then blurted, "How bad is it, sir?"

The black man nudged his glasses back up on his nose. "I won't lie to you, Greg. We'll be running very lean for the rest of the fiscal year, even assuming absolutely nothing else goes wrong."

Both officers cringed at the flat statement, but Greg looked as though he was trying not to squirm. "Sir? You said you were going to get new equipment for me. What's that costing us?"

Commander Holleran sighed and didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gazed down at his desk for several seconds. "That depends on you, Greg."

Ed straightened at the sudden use of his boss's first name and he knew Greg hadn't missed it either. Another bombshell was coming, one none of them would like – and Sergeant Lane had a funny feeling he knew exactly what the bombshell was. Even worse, he knew exactly how Greg would respond. Damn it all.

"The mayor's office has offered to fund all of your new equipment, Greg, at no cost to the SRU's budget, as long as you agree to forfeit the mayor's written assurance that you can never again be transferred without your direct approval."

Greg's expression was still. Evaluating all the angles and possible scenarios for how his decision could turn out. "Does the mayor's office have any immediate plans to transfer me, sir?"

"No," Commander Holleran reassured them. "However, if the mayor were to give you a written assurance that you can't be transferred again, it would be irrefutable evidence that he can't properly manage his personnel."

"Evidence that he had to clean up Pollux's mess," Ed concluded aloud.

Holleran sighed heavily and nodded. "That's the gist of it, Sergeant Lane. The reelection campaigns are already gearing up and the mayor's looking at a fairly tough challenger for his office. Greg, he gave you his word and he'll keep that word if he has to, but it'll be much easier for him if you agree to let it go in return for a quiet donation to the SRU."

A large part of Ed bristled, but he kept his mouth shut and quietly covered Sam's mouth before the little sniper could speak. Judging by the way Sam's shoulders had hunched up and he was practically hissing and spitting like an angry cat, it wouldn't be anything…polite…towards the mayor. He agreed, but this wasn't their call. It was Greg's call and Ed still knew exactly what his friend's call would be.

And yet, to his surprise, Greg's expression remained utterly still, giving nothing away. "How much equipment are we talking about, sir?"

The commander shuffled through the papers on his desk, nodding absently to himself when he found the right ones. "They've agreed to fund your new office…"

"Office?" Greg echoed, caught off guard.

Holleran inclined his chin. "Yes, Greg, you're going to need an office of your own." A wan smile lit the older man's face. "Four walls, a desk, two chairs, and all the office supplies you need for a good start."

Abashed, Greg ducked his head at the teasing. "Yes, sir."

The commander sobered. "They'll reimburse us for the laptop I already requisitioned for you as well as the uniform you're wearing right now." The papers rustled. "Funds for several additional uniforms, your new gun and vests, not to mention your badge." A pause. "And, oh yes, they'll pay for a specialized SRU vehicle specifically slated for your new position."

Ed blinked at the last item. "Greg?"

Before his friend could reply, their boss held up his hand and looked directly at Ed. "When Lieutenant Parker has fully recovered, I envision his role as half in the office, half in the field. He'll be welcome to join any hot calls with any of our teams or he can be called in during a hot call if the on-scene team needs either additional backup or someone with more authority." One finger pointed at the lean sniper. "Your team will have a permanent exception to the seven-man rule, but don't let it go to your head, Sergeant! Lieutenant Parker will not officially be a member of any SRU team and he won't be exclusively available for your team, either."

"He's right, Eddie," Greg cut in. "You earned your promotion and it doesn't do you any good if you revert back to being my team leader. You and Wordy have done a great job with Team One; don't let me take away from that." He paused, then added quietly, "I know that's what you want right now, Ed, but it wouldn't be like it was. You've outgrown that role, just like Wordy outgrew being the backup team leader."

Much as Ed didn't want to admit it, Greg was right. As usual. Sure, it would be great to go back to how things had been, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he'd start getting restless and maybe even start resenting Greg for taking his promotion away. No, that wasn't the way, even if Greg had been willing to accept his old job back. All of them had outgrown their old roles and they needed to figure out a new dynamic for the team. One with three levels of authority when necessary, but still able to rely on the old two tier system when Greg couldn't be there in the field with them.

While Ed mulled their new reality over, Greg swung back to Commander Holleran. "And none of this will come out of the SRU's budget if I agree to forgo my immunity from a future transfer?"

"That's correct, Lieutenant Parker."

For another minute, the clock ticked away as the bald, stocky lieutenant considered the offer and all its implications. Then he nodded. "Take the deal, sir."

Ed locked his jaw in place, refusing to protest. Greg hadn't just blindly agreed, he'd thought it through, evaluating all the pros and cons. And in a real way, this was his friend's first trial as a lieutenant. He'd had to decide between his own good and the good of the SRU – the first of many such decisions he would face in his new job. It wouldn't always be so stark and clear cut, nor would it always be so personal, but much as Ed hated it, his boss wasn't just a cop any more.

No, Greg was a politician now and he had to learn how to play the intricate system of city politics. How to make friends and win influence as well as how to avoid making enemies – or at least keep things on an even keel – all so he could parlay his political influence into protecting the SRU and its always vulnerable budget. How to protect his people from all the sharks just itching to cut money and personnel from the SRU, even as they demanded that the SRU maintain and even exceed its sterling record. In a way, it was the ultimate negotiation – and with all due respect to their commander, Ed couldn't think of anyone better for the job.

Commander Holleran's reply was loud in the silence. "Copy that, Lieutenant. I'll let them know once I've got you set up with your new laptop."

A glimmer of mischief shot through Greg's eyes. "Sir? See if you can get another laptop. If I have a laptop, you should have one, too."

Holleran paused, thinking the argument through. Then he surveyed his paperwork covered desk and laughed. "Very good point, Lieutenant. I'll be sure to mention it."

Ed was heartily grateful when Winnie buzzed Commander Holleran and informed him that Emrys had arrived and was asking for both Greg and Sam. His head was spinning at how much work Greg would have to do once he was fully recovered and up to speed – and it wasn't even his job. Frankly, the Sergeant was relieved he wouldn't have to shoulder any of his friend's new workload for the foreseeable future.

The two officers rose and Ed gently shook Sam awake – the little boy had gone to sleep not long into the intense discussion between Greg and Holleran. The blond stirred, rubbing at his eyes before he huffed a tiny sigh and leaned against Ed's chest, still too sleepy and comfortable to be bothered.

"We'll take it slow, Lieutenant," Commander Holleran said, rising himself. "Your recovery is the priority right now; I've been handling all this by myself thus far. I can handle it until you're ready."

"Thank you, sir," Greg replied, shoulders relaxing at the reassurance. Glancing over, he gestured for Ed to take the lead.

The Sergeant nodded and headed out of the office, though he checked his stride, determined not to leave Greg behind. Merlin would need as much information as they could give him, plus Ed was still more worried about his best friend than Sam. Sam's situation wasn't ideal, but they were dealing with it. Greg…Greg was going to be the tricky one. Especially if he was really buying Commander Holleran's line about him not being Team One anymore.

Greg was not oblivious to his Sergeant's concern. His mind paused on Ed's rank. He was so used to thinking of Eddie as his constable and team leader. Accustomed to being a Sergeant. One hand brushed his shoulder and the maple leaf embroidered on it; his new rank still felt… unreal. An office! He'd never had an office of his own in his entire career! And yet, it was… He knew an office was expected. He was second-in-command of the SRU now, ironically playing the law-abiding Anthony to Commander Holleran's just as law-abiding Elias.

As amusing as that particular mental image was, Greg sobered. He needed to be careful, needed to second-guess every decision until he'd gained enough distance from his undercover assignment to be confident in his judgment once more. Sure that his immediate responses to any situation or provocation would be those of an SRU negotiator and cop, not a vicious, blood-thirsty mob boss. Emotionally, he was still turbulent and unstable, prone to lash out at the slightest insult; it had taken every bit of his iron will to stifle his initial reaction to the mayor's offer. The darkest parts of his soul – the very parts he'd used to craft his undercover identity – had had a variety of responses, most with highly colorful verbiage.

Ed bumped his shoulder again and Greg looked over at his friend, feeling instinctive wariness and caution, coupled with an almost automatic assessment for both threats and…opportunities. Parker forcibly shut that part of his psyche down and smiled, but his best friend's concern was plain to see. A pang stabbed at Greg's gut. Yes, he'd come home, but he'd come home changed. He wasn't the Greg Parker Ed remembered, the man Eddie considered one of his best friends, or the man Ed trusted to have his back, no matter what. And…to his shame, the lieutenant had no idea how to go about getting that Greg Parker back.

Ahead of them, the rest of Team One waited, standing in a loose group near Merlin with a curious Winnie looking on from the side. The ancient warlock frowned as he caught sight of the approaching men and the little blond riding in Ed's arms. Greg picked up his pace a touch to close with Merlin first. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Emrys."

"Of course, Sergeant…" Merlin trailed off, noting the new insignia on Parker's shoulder as well as the sergeant's chevron on Ed's. "Forgive me, Parker, but what exactly does a maple leaf signify?"

"Lieutenant," the stocky if gaunt officer supplied even as he pulled out the bundle of parchment he'd gotten from Junior Auror Sciuto. "Bit of a long story."

"So I gathered from Constable Camden," Merlin replied drily. "She and your teammates have firmly impressed upon me that they will tell me the whole of the matter." That the discussion would be well away from Parker went unsaid, though Greg could hardly miss the implication.

He opted not to protest, though, knowing that his friends were just trying to help in their own way. "I'm not a member of Team One anymore," the lieutenant explained, ignoring the regret burning in his soul. Offering the parchment sheaf in his hands to Merlin, Greg added, "Constable Sciuto took a look, but she couldn't find a match to any commonly known compounds."

The warlock allowed a thoughtful hum as he took the parchment and scanned through it. "What concerns you, Lieutenant?"

Greg blew out a breath, crafting his explanation carefully. "I assume the effects will wear off, but I'd like to be sure of that." A pause and the negotiator considered before nodding and stepping close to Merlin. He lowered his voice and said, "General Braddock showed up. He wasn't the least bit surprised about what happened. This had to have happened in the middle of the night; I found Sam this morning and Team One had a late hot call yesterday. The General turned up right after I got done telling Team One."

Sharp blue regarded him. "And?"

A grimace crossed the officer's face. "Sam hasn't spoken to either of his parents in over three years. There's no reason for General Braddock to turn up here out of the blue on the exact same day Sam gets dosed with a De-Aging Potion."

"Unless he was forewarned," Merlin concluded, weaving his fingers together under his chin. "Thus you wish as speedy a resolution as possible to this situation."

"Yes."

The ancient warlock looked down at the parchment and grimaced. "I will do what I can, Lieutenant Parker. I suspect this is an old compound, not an…exclusive one, but if so, it won't run out on its own."

Hazel widened with alarm and Team One closed, worry shining. "It won't?" Jules questioned, genuine fear beneath the worry. "Then what do we do?"

Merlin turned to her, calm radiating. "There will be an antidote," he replied. "I just have to find it." The ancient warlock flicked his gaze to Sam for a moment. "Ensure you do not lose custody of our young friend. Until the antidote is applied, he is vulnerable."

Jules inhaled sharply, fear morphing into panic at the implication. If they lost custody of Sam, his adult memories would be in jeopardy. And if he lost those… Then the man she loved would have to grow up all over again and he wouldn't remember her at all.

Sarge's words cut through her terror, every bit as calm and collected as Merlin's. "Don't worry, sir. We won't allow Sam to come to any harm." Hazel shifted to her, reassurance shining. "Fast if you can, but take as long as you need to do it right."

"Of course, Lieutenant Parker," Merlin agreed. Without any further ado, the ancient warlock departed, an expression of determination on his face.

Once he was gone, Sarge was next to her, his voice dropping low again. "Jules. There's a chance it could happen, but we won't let it come to that, I promise. You – we – will get Sam back, my word on that."

"Copy that, Sarge," Jules whispered, faith shining. Sarge…he'd never let them down before – he wouldn't start now. Not with Sam on the line.