Chapter Six: Restoration

As the day wore on, Greg found himself sitting in the briefing room with Sam playing quietly next to him. Winnie had managed to find some toys for the De-Aged constable to play with while they waited on Merlin. The lieutenant was fervently hoping the ancient warlock would come through before the end of the day, because otherwise he and Wordy were going to have to do some very fast talking. Well…he was probably in for it anyway; Shelley had made it clear he was only supposed to work for half a day, if that. The lunch he'd given to Sam had been intended to help him keep up his strength and provide enough energy to drive home.

Exhaustion tugged at Greg despite the replacement lunch Ed had insisted on buying for him, drawing a grimace. He knew full well that he wasn't in any shape to be at work for a full day, but he hadn't had a choice. After the brief conference with Merlin, the adult members of Team One, led by Wordy and Ed, had urged him to go home. They could handle the rest and they'd make sure Sam had a safe place to go if the situation ended up lasting longer than a day. Already tired and hurting, Greg had agreed.

Sam, however, had not. As soon as the little blond realized Greg intended on leaving without him, he started wailing and screaming, throwing a tantrum worthy of the most over-indulged, spoiled toddler deep in the throes of the aptly named terrible twos. Peace had only been restored to the SRU when Greg solemnly vowed not to leave.

Team One was not impressed – and neither was Greg, truth be told – but what else was there to be done? For all intents and purposes, Sam was being taken care of by a group of strangers he didn't know from a hole in the wall. Ideally, they should have gotten his family involved, if only so Sam could have familiar, trusted faces around, but that wasn't an option. Which meant they dared not remove Sam's one safety net, no matter how stressed and exhausted said safety net was.

Greg gazed down at Sam's shiny blond locks as he played with several Lego figurines; Jules had managed to coax her miniature boyfriend into taking a quick locker room shower, though Lou had been the one to actually get Sam through said shower. Fortunately, Sam hadn't protested being parted from Greg for the shower after Team One patiently explained to him why their lieutenant physically couldn't handle it.

"Hey, Sarge."

Parker looked up, concern flashing as he took in the new arrival. "Spike. You okay?"

The bomb tech fidgeted, but nodded. Holding up his bandaged right hand, Spike explained, "Neal is gonna check this later, but he said it should be fine."

One eyebrow arched. "The bandage is for a po… Ah…medication?"

"Yeah," Spike confirmed. "Neal said I won't even have a scar."

The negotiator felt his shoulders relax a hair. "Good." When the tech didn't depart, Greg arched the other brow. "Something else?"

The lean constable squirmed. "Ed doesn't want me working out with an injury. He told me to come help you with Sam."

A wan smile threatened. Trust Eddie to find a proposal he couldn't turn down, for completely legitimate reasons. "Copy that, Spike."

Sam looked up as Spike dropped down on his haunches in a crouch right in front of him. "Hiya, sport. Can I play with you for awhile?"

The blond considered, stealing a glance over his shoulder at Parker. "If the Lieutenant says you can."

Greg stomped hard on a cringe and gave Sam an encouraging smile. "Go for it, Sam. Spike's a lot more fun than I am right now."

Unshakable faith and trust shone in the little sniper's eyes, the same trust that shone in Spike's. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Greg felt his breath catch as the pieces fell into place. No wonder Sam was refusing to be parted from him, no matter what. It was that blasted, tainted trust. Again. For a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Greg was extremely relieved when Merlin appeared right near the end of Team One's shift. Even better, the warlock was carrying a potion vial in his hands. Hazel flicked down, amusement shining. Spike had been brilliant, his naturally playful spirit allowing him to connect with five-year-old Sam. The little blond was actually giggling as Spike dramatically tromped a big plastic dinosaur around the Lego Bionicle village they'd set up, making roaring noises.

The onlooker suppressed a snicker. Seeing as the dinosaur in questions was a triceratops, it wouldn't actually be roaring… "Guys," he cut in, drawing both the dark and light-haired heads up. "Company."

Spike glanced over his shoulder, relief of his own appearing at the sight of Merlin. "Copy that, Sarge." Turning back to Sam, he sighed theatrically. "Sorry, sport. The Toa will have to fend off the dino rampage another time."

Sam looked rather disappointed, but nodded without protest. "Yes, sir."

Greg made his way to his feet and Spike picked Sam up. The three exited the briefing room as Team One ambled over from the workout room. Despite the forced nonchalance, Greg could see the fierce hope on his subordinates' faces. It was utterly unnerving and unsettling for all of them, really. Bad enough that they would always be at greater risk in the magical world, but to be De-Aged… Rendered utterly helpless and stripped of memories… That was scary enough without the horror factor Merlin had introduced. Permanent De-Aging. Being forced to grow up all over again, in a world so unlike the one you remembered. Honestly, if Sam chose to leave Team One once he was cured, Greg knew none of the sniper's teammates would blame him in the slightest.

"Lieutenant Parker," Merlin greeted them soberly.

"Hello, Emrys," Greg replied, letting his eyes fall to the potion vial. "I take it you were successful?"

Merlin sighed heavily, but inclined his chin. "Once I returned home, I realized I had encountered a recipe quite similar to this one in my travels. Once I had identified it, it was an easy matter to the find a solution."

Greg eyed the potion. It was a very grungy brown that reminded him of a swamp. Although none of the potions he'd ever had tasted good, this one looked like it tasted downright vile. To ask Sam to drink that… Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn't even consider it, but beggars couldn't be choosers. If that nasty, grungy potion was the only way to get their Sam back, then they'd just have to deal.

"So what's the plan?" Ed pressed, expression shuttered as he also eyed the potion vial. "Just pour it down his throat?"

"That would be inadvisable," Merlin replied dryly. "Unless, of course, you desire to completely and utterly humiliate your friend."

"Eddie," Greg broke in at the confusion on his Sergeant's face. "His clothes."

Ed blanched and the rest of Team One looked rather ill as they drew the same conclusion their lieutenant already had.

"That is one aspect, Lieutenant Parker," Merlin agreed. "But not the only one, I fear." The warlock considered, then indicated the briefing room. "Shall we adjourn so we may discuss this further in private?"

"Let's," Greg said. This was already going to be incredibly embarrassing for Sam without letting anyone outside of Team One – and himself – hear the details of how the restoration was going to work. "Lou, could you and Jules clean up the toys and get them back to Winnie real quick?"

"Sure thing, Sarge," Lou acknowledged.

Jules and Lou moved fast, managing to get all the toys cleaned up and back to Winnie in minutes. Little Sam looked disappointed by the removal of the toys he'd been playing with, but Ed had a feeling the adult Sam was going to be grateful for the lack of a reminder. Assuming he remembered, but that seemed to be the way the team's luck ran; no matter how screwy the situation, once it was over, they remembered it perfectly. Well…except for Greg and the tail end of Fletcher Stadium; his boss still didn't remember anything after his good-bye speech and probably never would.

Merlin's gaze was solemn, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Not what Ed would expect from a guy who'd just come through for Team One in a pinch. All of a sudden, Ed had to wonder what was so bad about this cure. And why he was suddenly so sure that Greg was right in line for another emotional hit.

Greg sank into a chair with a ghost-soft noise of relief, but the rest remained standing. Merlin tucked his potion vial away and fingered the blue gem topped staff in his other hand. Jules and Lou slipped back inside the briefing room, the latter hitting the control to close the steel door. Once it was down, Merlin stepped to the head of the briefing table.

"How bad?" Wordy asked, tone blunt.

Merlin grimaced. "I seriously considered the use of a time turner, despite the grave risk in doing so."

The team flinched back and Ed saw Greg go pale in something like horror.

The warlock sighed heavily and finally started to explain. "You have already deduced the most obvious aspect, but I shall begin with that regardless." He paused a moment to ensure he had their full attention. "As should be evident from the initial event, the effects of this substance are solely upon the subject. Nothing else is transformed, not even clothing."

Despite Greg's earlier reminder, Ed still cringed; the mental image was immediate and unpleasant. Yeah, that was not going to be fun for Sam or anyone with Sam. "Is it painful?"

"I don't know for sure, Sergeant Lane, but I think it likely," Merlin replied drily.

Oh, this was getting better by the minute. The sniper rubbed his bald dome. "So, what, we give him that and get him by himself until it's over?"

"Absolutely not!" the warlock rapped out.

"Why not?" Wordy questioned, confused. "I sure wouldn't want anyone around if I had to go through that."

Merlin arched a very pointed brow, sarcasm oozing from each word. "Oh? You would wish to relive every single one of your memories, both good and bad, all at once?" At the room's horror-stricken expressions, the dark-haired man nodded satisfaction. "And, oh yes, you would wish to endure such a trial all by yourself?"

Dead silence rang and Ed felt his fists clench in fury. It wasn't fair. What had Sam – what had any of them done to deserve this? He pictured himself in his teammate's situation and fought the sudden roil of nausea in his stomach. To be alone while every memory he'd ever had ran through his head all at once – Merlin was right – it would be sheer anguish, pure torture liable to drive even the sanest man halfway 'round the bend. But who on Earth would he trust to support him through that sort of trial? Who could he lean on as he went through the absolute depths of despair?

A name presented itself, but Ed determinedly shook it away. Sadly, the only other option that came to mind was his mother. He shuddered at the thought of Sophie seeing him like that. He loved her with every fiber of his being, but still… Not like that, he would never want her to see him so… Weak. Vulnerable. Exposed for the whole world to see.

"Based on my prior encounter with this sort of substance, the best person to accompany young Samuel will be a parent."

Greg let out a low, vicious oath and leaned over, burying his face in his hands. Ed forced a reply through gritted teeth so his boss didn't have to. "Not an option."

Both brows rose. "His father I can understand," Merlin began. "But surely his mother…"

"She's afraid of anything supernatural," Wordy explained, tension vibrating in his posture and his eyes darting to Sam; the little blond looked more puzzled by the conversation than anything else. "She follows his father's lead; when he was okay, she was okay, but as soon as he came here and wouldn't re-up, they both turned on him."

As Wordy spoke, the warlock's expression went grimmer and grimmer. When the constable finished, Merlin was silent for several minutes, thinking through possible options. The team traded glances of their own, all save Sam and their boss. The very thought of being totally exposed, forced through every last nightmare they'd already been through once… It was the stuff of horror movies; Ed shivered, suddenly incredibly grateful that neither Spike nor Wordy had been De-Aged. As bad as it would be for any of them – Sam at least hadn't been forced through a slaughterhouse. Not that the JTF2 vet's memories were any pleasanter – what with his friendly fire incident and the Old Religion sacrifice ritual that they'd saved the sniper from and that didn't even account for the utter insanity they'd all been through. Yeah, Sam pretty much had his pick for night terrors.

"Let Sam choose," Jules opined. As all heads turned towards her, she lifted her chin. "We don't have any good options, guys. Let Sam choose who he wants to see him like that."

Another lump curdled in Ed's gut. Very reasonable, very sensible, except… Except every last one of them already knew who Sam's choice would be. Knew what Sam's choice would say. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. How was Greg supposed to heal when they kept on doing this? How was Greg supposed to regain any sort of mental stability when they kept piling more and more stress on his shoulders, demanding that he be their solid foundation no matter what that cost him?

But what did he expect Greg to say? No? That wouldn't fly either, because Jules was right. Sam alone had the right to choose who would see him so weak, vulnerable, and exposed. To deny him that right was wrong and Ed already knew Greg wouldn't do that. No, the noble git would willingly accept the burden Sam was about to put on his shoulders and never voice so much as a whisper of complaint.

"Sam?"

In Spike's arms, the little blond looked up at Greg, faith and trust shining bright. "Yes, sir?"

The Boss smiled, a genuine smile despite the circumstances or the weight of what was about to fall on him. "Sam, Emrys has come up with a way to put things right." The smile shifted to a somber, serious gaze. "But I won't lie to you, Sam. It's going to hurt quite a bit and Emrys thinks you should have someone with you while you go through it."

Even as Greg drew breath to continue, Sam asked, "Please, Lieutenant. Can it be you?"

Inside his head, Ed spat out every filthy word he'd ever learned, despising the situation and the circumstances that had led to it. Hate boiled in his gut – not at Sam, never at any of his teammates – hate at whoever had done this to them and hate for the One who'd allowed it. How many hits was Greg supposed to take? How long was he supposed to be their unshakeable, unbreakable rock? How long was his best friend and brother supposed to stand on his own with no support?

If You're so powerful, why'd you let this happen, huh? How come it always has to be Greg who fixes every last mess You land us in? Why won't You help him? Or are You not powerful enough? Is that it? You just pretend to be all-powerful, but it's really all just one big bluff. I'm right, aren't I? You're just a big coward who goes around getting people into messes and sayin', "Okay, go ahead, pull yourself up by the bootstraps and fix it yourself. Oh, and don't forget to thank Me for getting you through!"

Rage swirled in his veins as Greg nodded acceptance of the little blond's request. Hazel flicked in his direction. "Eddie. It okay if I open up your locker again?"

"Yeah, Boss; it's fine."

It wasn't fine, it was anything but fine, but there was literally nothing Ed could do to stop it. Inside his soul, he hurled invective at the One who could have, should have, stopped all of it. The One who could've spared them this grief and agony, if only He'd been willing to intervene.

In front of Ed, Greg took the potion vial from Emrys and hefted Sam out of Spike's grasp. The 'team sense' shut down, ensuring that none of them would be able to hear Sam's anguish once the restoration process began. Only Greg would bear that horrible burden. Again.

Ed was sick of it. Sick and tired of his brother being the one who paid the most for every short stick Team One drew. The one always called on to sacrifice his own well-being for the sake of others. Every kind of rage and fury and thunder howled within his heart, but the sniper refused to bolt for the workout room and the heavy bag. No, he would stay. He would stay and he would be as close as possible. He would support his brother as much as he could. Leg muscles flexed, pushing him out of the briefing room without conscious decision. His team followed as he went as far as the locker room door. Once there, Ed leaned against the metal, warring with himself before his shoulders slumped. He could not, would not, violate Sam's privacy and take away from Greg's latest emotional sacrifice for his team.

But he would stay and he would witness as much as he could from a distance. There could be no doubt; Greg was going to need them after this. Sam would need help, too, but Greg was the one who would need them the most. The Sergeant's blue locked with his team leader's gray, both of them understanding without words. If they failed to catch Greg this time, he would shatter into a million, billion pieces and they'd lose him. Alcohol or suicide, it didn't matter; the Boss was right on the edge, but still fighting for them. Never for himself, only for them.

And…and… It wasn't fair…

Sam's first scream shattered the air. It was not the last.

Even as he stayed focused on Sam, Greg was keenly aware of Ed's mounting rage and fury. His friend was a master at hiding his emotions behind that sniper mask of his, but Greg knew Eddie far too well to be fooled by it. A large part of Parker burned with that same outrage; it just wasn't fair. How much more did they have to go through, how much more did they have to endure?

For some reason Greg couldn't fathom, Ed seemed to think he'd drawn every single short straw along the way. But that was ludicrous; they'd all been battered and worn down by the trials thrown at them over the past several years. Although Greg couldn't deny that he'd been at the center of more trials than he cared to be, he was not the only member of the team who'd suffered. Nor was he at the center of this trial. Sam was. Sam was the one about to endure the flood of his own memories as well as the forcible restructuring as his body returned to its real age.

Resolving to have a long conversation with Eddie later – or perhaps the next day – Greg took Sam back to the locker room where his misadventure had begun. Briskly, he opened up Ed's locker to retrieve Sam's clothing and shoes. Supplies in hand, the lieutenant guided Sam into the bathroom, fleetingly wishing for another door to keep the sound in.

Crouching down, he looked Sam in the eye. "Okay, sport, one last thing before we put things right. Let's get your shirt, shoes, and pants off."

Sam made a face, but nodded obediently. "Yes, sir."

Once Sam had the child-sized clothing off, Greg pulled his constable's adult shirt out of the pile and carefully got the little blond into it. He shushed the budding protest in Sam's eyes. "I know it's too big for you, sport. Trust me on this one, all right?" He waited for the reluctant nod, then retrieved the potion. Drawing in a deep breath, Greg looked the boy in the eye. "Sam. It's up to you. You can drink this down yourself or I can just pour it down your throat if you don't think you can handle the taste."

The miniature sniper paled, but after a few moments, his chin lifted with familiar determination. "I can do it, sir."

"Copy that," Greg acknowledged, pulling the stopper out of the potion vial and giving it to his friend. "See you on the other side, Constable Braddock."

Sam cocked his head, puzzled, but took the vial nonetheless. He gazed at the grungy liquid uncertainly for a few seconds before a stubborn gleam appeared. In one motion, the little boy threw the vial back, drinking it down as fast as he could. He gagged at the end, but Greg snatched the vial and refilled it with water from the nearby sink. Sam gulped the water, thanks shining, and Parker nodded approvingly. They did not need Sam throwing up the potion now that he had it in his system.

Mentally, Greg held his breath. No one had been present during the initial attack, so he had no idea how long it would take for the potion to kick in. For close to a minute, all was silence and stillness. Then Sam cried out and doubled over. Greg caught him, whispering reassurance, but nothing seemed to help as the pain increased. When the child slumped, unconscious, Greg could only be grateful. Then the first scream rang out.

Sam didn't wake as his body twisted and writhed, bones breaking and reforming as he grew up right before Greg's eyes. Muscles rippled, tendons stretched, and the five-year-old's facial features matured into the adult version his friends were so familiar with. By the time it was done, Parker's stomach was tied in knots and if he'd had more hair, he would've ripped it right out in helpless frustration.

Blue eyes opened, but didn't focus. Greg swallowed hard, gut lurching unpleasantly. Instinct whispered and the lieutenant coaxed the semiconscious man through getting his adult clothing back on. He had a nasty feeling that it wouldn't take long for the memories to hit; he needed to take his chance while he could…maybe Sam wouldn't remember the no-clothes part of his ordeal…

Sam had gotten everything on but his shoes when glazed blue finally cleared. For the second time, the sniper doubled over, but not in physical pain. Anguish and torment shone in his eyes, twisting his face in raw grief as he clutched his head. Greg touched his constable's shoulder, drawing that blond head back up for an instant. For a single instant that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Sam stared at him, uncomprehending. Then he launched himself into his boss's arms and sobbed like the child he'd been only minutes before.

Greg adjusted his stance on the floor, bracing himself a little better. Then he focused on the heartbroken man clinging to him and hugged him back, saying nothing. Words were inadequate, he knew that instinctively. The best thing he could offer Sam was his presence and even that was painfully inadequate. Deep within his soul, Greg offered up a silent plea on his friend's behalf and settled in to wait.

Ed's anger had died down to dull embers by the time the distant sobbing finally stopped. Chagrin licked at him instead; he'd been worried about Greg taking an emotional hit? What about Sam's emotional hit? Apples and oranges, he knew, but he couldn't help the comparisons. The Sergeant straightened, turning to face his team. "Okay, show's over. Briefing room, now; Sam doesn't need to know we were close enough to hear all that."

The others nodded, though Jules' distress shone brighter than her teammates. Lou and Spike bracketed her, earning a wan smile from the brunette. Wordy closed with Ed, tugging him away from the locker room door as a sudden reluctance to leave asserted itself. The sniper let Wordy pull him, absently grateful for the support as emotion writhed within him.

When they reached the briefing room, Ed halted, unwilling to enter the room. His team leader halted, too, eyebrows arching. "Something up?"

Anguish shone, breaking through the mask he couldn't maintain any more. "How many times, Word? How many times does it have to be Greg?" Unable to hold Wordy's gaze, Ed paced away, thumping a fist on the blue poly-carbon paneling of the briefing room. "We already broke him, but we keep dumping all this junk on his shoulders and sayin', 'All yours, Boss. Fix it up real nice.' "

Wordy sighed at the scorn that rang in Ed's voice. "What else were we supposed to do today, Ed? Sam didn't trust anyone 'cept Sarge."

Shoulders bowed under that truth. "I know, Wordy." Pained blue came around. "But isn't that what we say every single time? We throw up our hands and dump it all on Greg's shoulders. He can't take it anymore, buddy. We know that, but we keep doin' this anyway. And then we're surprised when he falls?"

Wordy's jaw set. "He didn't fall."

"Wrong," Ed snapped. "He did. I should know; I'm the one who went after him that day."

The brunet froze, backing up as understanding broke through. "Then…?"

"He was okay by the end of the day," Ed filled in quietly. "But he was still right on the edge. That's why I spent the weekend trying to figure out what we could change." Grief shone and Ed's eyes found the floor. "That Monday…you know the rest." He'd skated over the truth of what he'd been researching that weekend, but his theories about the 'team sense' weren't something he intended to bandy around where anyone could hear him. Clearing his throat, Lane looked up again. "Wordy, we gotta stop. We can't keep doing this to him."

Gray eyes were troubled. "So what do we do?"

"Heck if I know, Word. But we gotta do something; he's barely holding on as it is." Footsteps cut off any further discussion, but Ed knew he and Wordy could talk later. The problem was at least out in the open now; that was one step forward. A tiny step, but Ed would take what he could get.

Greg and Sam appeared from the locker room. Greg looked exhausted and Sam looked like an emotional wreck. Tear tracks ran down his face and his eyes appeared swollen and bloodshot. The sniper was walking on his own, but Ed could see he was still fighting to keep from clinging to their boss. Blue met his, then tracked past, into the briefing room; the Sergeant knew the exact instant that Sam spotted Jules as the blond tensed and reared back, shame turning his cheeks a bright red.

"Sam. Go. She understands." Greg's murmur was quiet, but Ed heard it nonetheless.

There was a noise like a choked off sob, then Sam hurried past into the briefing room. "Jules!"

"Sam!"

Ed was not surprised when Spike, Lou, and Merlin left the couple alone, joining the small group in the atrium. Ed arched a brow at Merlin. "Anything more we need to know?"

The warlock smiled wanly. "It may take some time for Constable Braddock's memories to fully settle, but he is through the worst of it."

"We'll keep an eye on him," Wordy promised.

"Sam told me he was attacked from behind," Greg cut in. "Based on what he remembers, he was knocked out prior to being dosed; his next memory is waking up in the locker room as a child."

Merlin sighed heavily. "I would not be surprised if the potion was Switched into his stomach; it's a common Healer strategy."

Alarm shone on every man's face. "Wait, we could get dosed with a Switching spell?" Ed hissed.

"In theory, yes, but only Healers are typically taught how to do so," Merlin explained. "Additionally, a Switching spell is only effective at short range and if the target is not moving; that would be why Constable Braddock was knocked out first." The raven paused, considering, then bobbed his head. "I doubt this is something you will need to be overly concerned with. The technique is too specialized and limited in scope to be effective in large numbers."

Part of Ed wanted to keep panicking, but reason broke through. In five years, they'd only had to deal with Switching spells twice – because unless he missed his guess, a Switching spell was how Greg had gotten dosed after Fletcher Stadium. That really wasn't that bad, all things considered.

So he nodded acceptance and moved on. "Anything we should keep a lookout for?"

"Nothing physically, but I would recommend secondary duty for a few days; Constable Braddock may be more prone to emotional overreactions until he has managed to reprocess his memories."

"Copy that," Wordy murmured, all of them turning at a muffled sob from the briefing room.

Ed took in the sight of Sam's head buried in the crook of Jules' shoulder; Jules clung to him just as tightly and both of them were crying. Then Greg stepped forward and triggered the steel door, stepping back as Jules looked up and mouthed thanks.