Chapter Three: To Take a Chance

If Troy had believed the fight between his constables had already gotten as bad it could possibly get, he was rapidly disabused of the notion. In the wake of Mordred revealing his magic and promptly going lethal with said magic, the fight escalated into outright war, albeit a one-sided war since Mordred refused to even push back against any of the insults his so-called friends were hurling at him. Only Lancelot stood beside Mordred, which just inflamed Gwaine and Elyan even more, as though the idea of the two magical constables uniting was a threat.

Leon and Percival were different; while still furious with Mordred, both men refused to breathe even a syllable of displeasure in Lancelot's direction. If Troy had to guess, they knew something that Gwaine and Elyan didn't – or maybe were refusing to know. Either way, their refusal to antagonize Lancelot was fanning the flames, leaving Mordred high and dry while Gwaine and Elyan just got angrier and angrier.

Two days after the hot call, the Sergeant walked into the locker room in time to hear Gwaine swearing at Mordred in another language. Before he could interrupt and ask what the heck was going on, Elyan spotted him and uttered a sharp word that cut Gwaine off instantly. Naturally, despite Troy's indignant demand for an explanation, all three constables clammed up and refused to respond. They even had the nerve to play dumb about their mystery language, insisting that Troy must've misheard them. Which he most certainly had not.

With his team in shambles and getting worse, Troy pulled them off the duty roster, threatening to suspend all of them without pay unless they explained, but even that dire warning fell on deaf ears. Although the raven had known the argument had to be serious to last for so long, he'd never dreamed it would be so bad that his men would accept suspension in lieu of allowing him to help. When had his team lost faith in him? When had things gotten so bad that they couldn't trust him? Why hadn't they come to him before it could get this bad? And, worse, how was he supposed to fix this mess if his team wouldn't let him?

Desperate for a solution, Troy did the one thing he'd vowed he'd never do to his team as their Sergeant. He went to his boss for help.

Lieutenant Parker heard him out, laptop closed and hands folded together in front of his chin as Troy outlined everything he'd seen over the past few weeks as well as all the events that had led up to Mordred's lethal reaction during the hot call. All his thoughts and observations were laid bare at the older, more experienced officer's feet. Troy made no effort to hide his anguish at his team's refusal to trust him with their problems, nor his pride at Mordred's decision to abandon secrecy in order to save his teammate's life.

The debrief that day might've been full of tension and fury, but Troy hadn't been able to understand why Gwaine was so angry. If not for Mordred's intervention, Gwaine wouldn't have been at the debrief; he would've been in the middle of being fitted for his casket. Aside from the natural surprise that two of his constables were magical and had enough power to use wandless magic, Troy hadn't seen any difference at all between Mordred firing his gun or using his natural power to save Gwaine's life. It was sad that their subject's girlfriend hadn't survived, but she'd attempted to murder one of his men. Cardinal rule: any weapon pointed at an officer merited a lethal response.

The Sergeant hadn't bothered to ask Mordred why he'd hidden his magic. After his team's reaction to Lancelot's magic, Mordred would've had to be a complete imbecile to reveal his own. Although it did make more sense now why Lancelot and Mordred's friendship had gotten closer over the past several weeks. Troy had no doubt that both men had been aware of each other's power, a fact that must've fostered a close bond as they withstood the unfair attacks of their so-called teammates. Eventually, he'd have to sit them down and figure out what they could do, but with their team on the brink of falling apart, well… That took priority.

As the words petered out, Troy stared down at his hands, thoroughly ashamed. He'd failed his team and he still didn't understand how it had happened or why it had happened. Without that understanding, how could he ensure it wouldn't happen again? More, how could he expect to maintain his position in the SRU after such an abject failure? He'd been proud of his job, prouder of his team, and now it was all gone, leaving him wondering if he'd deserved his promotion all those years ago.

"Troy." Lieutenant Parker waited for his head to come up. "This is not your fault."

"You don't know that." The words stuck in his throat, but they were true. Lieutenant Parker didn't know his team, so how could he claim that what had happened wasn't Troy's fault?

Parker read his face and shook his head. "I know quite a bit more about your team than you or they might suspect," he replied. "As a matter of fact, I'm surprised it took this long for things to come to a head."

"What?" Dark eyes bored into his superior, demanding answers. "You were expecting this?"

The lieutenant sighed. "I know you want answers, Troy, but I need to be sure that I'm right. When is your team's next shift?"

"Tomorrow. Day shift, sir."

His boss nodded, thoughtful. "I'll call Eddie. Team One will cover your team's shift."

"But…"

A faint smile appeared. "Call it a thank-you for all the times your team has covered for us."

Us. In spite of himself, Troy smiled. "Finally accepted that, sir?"

Parker chuckled. "I may be rather stubborn at times…" He smirked at Troy's poorly hidden choke of laughter. "…but I do eventually get the message, Sergeant." The levity dropped away. "Don't alert your team, Troy. I want them in the barn and changed before we confront them."

"What good will that do, Sarge?" Troy asked, cocking his head to the side. "They're fighting; a uniform doesn't change that."

"No, it doesn't, but it's a visible symbol of their team. They might be ignoring it at the moment, but it's still there, Troy. If we want to get through to them, then we need to have all the advantages we can, even something small like a uniform."

Troy still wasn't completely sure, but Parker was the negotiator, not him. If he wanted his team back, he was going to have to trust him.

The Sergeant winced at the biting commentary he could hear from the locker room and darted an anxious glance at his boss. Lieutenant Parker gave him an understanding smile, but held firm. "Troy. You take the lead for this part. I'll jump in once we get to the meeting room."

"Yes, sir," Troy acknowledged, pulling in a deep breath before he marched into the locker room, Parker at his back. Inside, his six constables looked up, all of them in various states of changing.

"Sarge?" Mordred ventured, uncertain at the sight of their boss's boss in the locker room. "Something up?"

The lean Sergeant glared hard and crossed his arms. "Don't play dumb, Mordred; it doesn't suit you." Dark eyes swept his constables. "Hurry up and finish changing; we're having a team meeting with Lieutenant Parker."

"But what about our shift?" Elyan protested; behind him, Percival nodded, a flicker of concern darting across his face.

"Team One has offered to cover for us," Troy explained.

Astonishment and no small amount of horror blazed across every face as they finally grasped what their Sergeant had done. "You went to Parker?" Gwaine demanded, betrayal ringing.

"Sir Gwaine, shut up and do as you're told," Lieutenant Parker ordered.

Gwaine's mouth snapped shut and he turned to his locker, grabbing his uniform shirt before he registered that he was following Parker's commands. Even then, he slid into the shirt, mulish, but also calculating.

Troy blinked in surprise and glanced at his superior, confused as to why his boss had called his constable 'Sir Gwaine'.

Parker didn't look at him; instead the stocky man faced off with Team Four, one eyebrow hiked expectantly. He didn't cross his arms as Troy had, but his authority was unmistakable. None of the constables argued with that authority; instead, they all finished changing and fell in as Lieutenant Parker led the way from the locker room to a small meeting room on the magic side of the barn.

Troy kept quiet as well, but his mind was racing. The day before, he'd been skeptical at the idea that Parker knew more about his own team than he did, but now he had an inkling that his boss had been downplaying the depth of his knowledge. Quite probably, Parker was dead-on accurate as to what was wrong with Team Four, even if he'd refused to explain. Deep inside, the Sergeant chafed at that refusal, but at least his superior had been willing to admit that he wanted to be sure before elaborating on what he knew. That was fair, even if it meant Troy himself was still in the dark.

Once inside the meeting room, Lieutenant Parker closed the door and tapped a small rune inscribed on the frame. The rune illuminated, sealing the room off from any listening spells or eavesdroppers. With the room secure, the lieutenant turned and gestured Team Four towards the table waiting for them. None of the constables sat, but they spread out nonetheless; Troy winced internally at how Mordred and Lancelot ended up next to each other, united, but divided from their friends. Percival hesitated, a flicker of regret racing across his face before he slid in next to Leon. Curiously, the two tallest members of Team Four ended up the middle, halfway between their magical teammates and the seething Gwaine and Elyan. Their very position confirmed the Sergeant's suspicions that they knew more than Gwaine and Elyan, yet that knowledge wasn't enough to bridge the gap, not by itself.

Solemn, Parker moved to the head of the table, facing all six constables and their Sergeant. Troy considered, then picked a spot partway between his team leader and Lancelot. He edged a bit closer to his magical constables, silently declaring his support for them, but otherwise held his peace. Prior to the meeting, Lieutenant Parker had made him promise not to interfere, a promise he now suspected would be much harder to keep than he'd initially anticipated.

With a clipped nod in Troy's direction, Parker spread his hands and leaned forward, planting his palms on the table. "I'll come right to the point, gentlemen. Your Sergeant came to me for help with this little war you seem to be having with each other. He still believes in all of you and so do I; this team may have hit a rocky patch, but it doesn't have to fall apart." Hazel swung to the two magicals. "It doesn't have to reject magic as it's been doing for the past several weeks."

Gwaine and Elyan stiffened, glaring hard and crossing their arms in defiance, but kept quiet.

Parker didn't miss the movements; he turned towards them, hiking an unimpressed brow. "Constable Macken. If Constable Vlachos had shot the subject's girlfriend instead of using his magic, would you have had a problem with that?"

Tension vibrated, but Gwaine worked his jaw and ground out, "No, sir, I would not."

"I'm glad to hear you would've been so generous," Parker drawled. "Particularly since the subject's girlfriend was about to kill you."

Reminded of that point, Gwaine flinched. Beside him, Elyan frowned, dark eyes flickering between Gwaine and Mordred.

The lieutenant kept going. "Constable Macken. If Constable Cabrera had been your partner instead of Constable Vlachos and he used his magic to save your life, would you have had a problem with that?"

Gwaine drew back, swallowing so hard his Adam's apple bobbed. Elyan blinked, turning to look at his teammate inquiringly. To Troy's left, Leon and Percival were glaring hard – at Gwaine. The question hung for several moments, then Gwaine's frame slumped in defeat. "No, sir, I would not," he whispered, dropping his eyes in shame.

Troy's jaw dropped, but Parker wasn't surprised. Instead, he nodded acceptance of Gwaine's answer. "So then. Your problem isn't with magic per se, it's with Constable Vlachos' use of his magic. Why is that, Constable Macken? Why are you afraid of Constable Vlachos using his magic?"

Ashamed, Gwaine refused to look up even as Elyan studied him intently, glancing between Gwaine and Mordred several times.

Parker eyed the constable and nodded slowly before changing his tack. "As a matter of fact, wouldn't it be fair to say that this fight isn't about Team Four or anything that's occurred in Toronto, Constable Macken?"

Troy opened his mouth, but Parker's hazel snapped to him, ordering him to silence. The Sergeant's jaw clicked shut without a single sound escaping. Leon stirred, stepping forward, and that hazel flicked to him, narrowing; the team leader froze and shifted backwards, bowing his head in acceptance of the lieutenant's refusal to allow his interference.

With Team Four's leaders cowed, Parker shifted back to his target. "This isn't about Toronto, Team Four, or anything that Constable Vlachos has done, Constable Macken. This is about Camlann."

Camlann?

"You don't know anything about Camlann," Elyan snapped, moving to be partially in front of his teammate. The black man's shoulders bunched, fists clenching.

"Neither do you, Sir Elyan," Parker countered, tone sharp. One hand dug into the tactical pouch hanging on his belt, a pouch identical to the ones every member of the Auror SRU carried, and came out with a book. Troy blinked at it; it was small, worn, and faded with age. Leather bound its spine, leather that crackled as Parker laid the volume out on the table. "I assume all of you are familiar with the name Geoffrey Calvin, gentlemen." As Team Four's constables stiffened, the lieutenant continued, words deceptively mild. "This is his diary and I've read every word inside it. As have mio nipotes; we are his descendents, after all."

Descendents?

"You're related to Geoffrey?" Gwaine blurted, brown eyes wide in shock. For some reason, his gaze trailed to Lancelot a beat later. Beside him, Elyan's jaw worked in astonishment; though Mordred appeared rather puzzled by the fuss, Leon, Percival, and Lancelot traded solemn glances. As though they'd already known that tidbit, but how? And why did it matter?

Lieutenant Parker's voice recalled him. "You all got a second chance, but you're wasting that chance by fighting a war that ended centuries ago. What happened then has no bearing on this team, gentlemen. It's time to leave Camelot in the past where it belongs."

Wait, Camelot?

Hazel pinned Gwaine and Elyan, unyielding in the face of their mulish defiance. "You should already know this, but I'll say it again. Magic isn't evil; it's a talent just like any other. Then and now, people are either born with that talent or they're not. And believe me, you can't get rid of magic if you've got it; I tried and it caused one heck of a lot more chaos than if I'd accepted it from the very start." One hand gestured in Lancelot's direction. "Since neither of you would listen to Leon or Percival, gentlemen, allow me to set the record straight on one very crucial point. What came back to Camelot several months after your adventure to the Isle of the Blessed was a Shade, an enslaved soul who had no control over his actions. The two of you have no right to judge him for what Morgana did."

Leon growled, pulling Parker's attention. "Lancelot may not be a traitor, sir, but Mordred is."

Troy gawked at the accusation, but his boss never twitched. Unruffled, he inquired, "Tell me, Leon. How has Mordred betrayed this team in the here and now?"

The four techie constables hesitated, as if Parker's pointed question had just thrown them off their stride. To himself, their Sergeant smirked. Mordred was no traitor and now maybe they'd be forced to admit that. He didn't know why Parker was bringing up Camlann and Camelot, though, especially since the legend of King Arthur had nothing at all to do with his men.

For several beats, silence reigned as Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan studied their two magical teammates. All four were thinking hard, yet there was a hesitancy to them, as though they truly wanted to give Mordred and Lancelot a chance, but they were afraid of what might happen if they did. For some reason, Troy got the sense that Lancelot was in the clear; while he didn't understand all the talk of Shades, he definitely agreed with the idea that someone who'd been magically enslaved had no responsibility for his actions. But when had that happened to Lancelot? And why would Leon insist that Mordred was a traitor when he wasn't?

After a minute, Mordred's face fell, fledgling hope fading at the lack of response from his teammates. That was the moment Parker moved to the rookie constable's side, resting a hand on his shoulder. The stocky man gave Mordred an encouraging smile and turned to face the rest of Team Four, resolute. "Gentlemen, you have a decision to make. Perhaps the most important decision any of you have made since you remembered." He gave them a second to focus on him, then continued, "If you give Mordred here a second chance, there may well come a day when he betrays that chance and proves he's incapable of changing."

Beneath the lieutenant's hand, Mordred flinched, gray dropping to the floor in shame far worse than Gwaine's. Deliberately, Parker squeezed, dragging the young constable's head back up even as Team Four's techie constables went stony.

"If that happens, that's on him, not any of you." Intensity shone and Parker leaned forward, deliberately looking each man in the eye. "But if you refuse to let him prove himself, if you stick to your belief that he cannot stand on the side of Good, then you'll push him right back into Morgana's arms and history will repeat itself."

Every single techie constable took a step back at that statement, fear shining. Yet before any of them could respond, a hesitant voice rang out. "You really think I can change?" Hope, mixed with resignation and dread far greater than the rest had.

Parker dismissed the others, shifting to met Mordred's gaze with a confidence Troy envied. "I know you can, Mordred. You already have. Your team has been alienating you ever since they started remembering Camelot, but you're still here. You haven't given up on them. Would you have done that before Camlann?"

Mordred hesitated, biting his lip and shrinking back even as his Sergeant stared hard at Parker. Why was his boss talking as though his constable had been at Camlann? What, was he supposed to be a Knight of Camelot or something?

"He hasn't changed."

All eyes swung to Gwaine, but the cocky constable didn't flinch at the attention. Instead, he smirked at his teammate, brown dancing with a glee that hadn't been there since before they'd found out about magic. "You're still an idiot, mate."

"What?" Mordred croaked in disbelief. The hope in his eyes was dying, fading away into dullness and resignation.

"Yeah, you heard me. You haven't changed a bit, 'cause only an idiot jumps in between a curse that kills every single time and its target!" Gwaine let that hang, snorting as his teammates reeled, then added, "And if you do it again, rookie, I'll thump you so hard you won't be able to read that computer screen of yours for a week."

Ordinarily, Troy would've bawled Gwaine out on the spot for threatening his teammate like that. But as hope reignited in Mordred's eyes, lighting them up even more than his magic had, Troy couldn't bring himself to mind. Then his constable's words registered and he straightened, indignant.

"Wait a sec. Mordred jumped between you and the Killing Curse and you were still ticked off at him?"

"Errr…umm…maybe?" Gwaine offered weakly, wilting at the glares from every single one of his fellow constables, including Elyan.