Chapter One: Death by Inches
Author note: This story is the seventy-second in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Unconditional Love".
I had intended on posting this coming Friday, just as I said last Friday, but then two very important Real Life events took place. I won't go into detail, other than to say that I want to celebrate those events with a special Tuesday posting.
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
Previously
"We both know Uncle Greg loves you, Miss Marina. It's only a matter of time until, well… If we keep going like we have been, we're going to hurt him, Miss Marina."
She nodded.
"So I came up with an idea. I can give you what you want. You can have Uncle Greg and Dean all to yourself, without me or my sister in the way."
"If you tell him what you want for us, he'll have to make a choice, Miss Marina. And neither one of you will like it. He deserves a family, Miss Marina. A real family, not just two little orphans who got shoved in his front door at 3 AM. You can give him that, Miss Marina, but you gotta choose. Are you gonna accept us, too, or would you rather just have him?"
Miss Marina studied him. "If what you're telling me is true, you're on the cusp of having everything you want. Why give all of that up?"
"If you love them, let them go," Lance whispered.
The blonde snorted, drawing back as if he'd slapped her. "You've never loved anything besides yourself in your entire life," she snapped. "How do I do it?"
Miss Marina studied the card, then she spat out each word. "Mín ġeþanc wíere."
Lance threw his shoulders back, chin lifting in proud defiance. "So. That's it. As far as Uncle Greg is concerned, my sister and I never existed."
Kneeling, Greg gazed up at her. "Marina, I know we met at a low point," she laughed, a sob mixed in, "but I've never had cause to regret our meeting." Flipping the box open, he lifted it, revealing the simple white-gold band with diamonds arranged into a flower with a curved leaf on either side. "Marina, will you marry me?"
Her eyes widened for an instant, right before her face fell, utterly crushed, though by what, he had no idea. Drawing breath, she focused on him, longing and heartfelt plea lacing every word. "It's me, Uncle Greg. It's Alanna."
Golden light shone from the page, illuminating every single one of the words on the page with a hope that had never quite died. Burned dim and low, true, but it had never died. When the light faded, there was one final line on the back of Lance's letter to him.
Believe And See – Stories Equal Truth
Memory slammed into him, reigniting inside of him as the lies evaporated like mist. A gasp wrenched free as the magic unraveled, revealing the truth so cunningly hidden behind the deception he'd believed for almost two weeks.
A hand touched his back. "Lance, I love you. Both of you. That will never change."
The boy's chin tucked into his chest. "Let's say I believe you, sir. You love her more and you always will. Miss Marina can't stand us and sooner or later, you won't be able to stand us either. The only thing I did was speed it up. If you really loved us, you would've stood up to her. But you didn't, so I did something and now you're mad at me about it. Big deal; you'll see. Soon as she brings the hammer down, we'll be right back where you found us. Only now the neighbors will know we're related to a cop."
"Do you really think I'm going to allow any member of my family to live in that rattrap of an apartment?" Uncle Greg demanded.
"No. But we're not your family, are we?" With that, Lance curled in himself again, ignoring the pain from his broken ribs. It wasn't anywhere near as painful as the loss of his whole world.
A single tear slipped free. "I hurt you."
"Yes," Greg agreed. "And you hurt Alanna and Dean and Clark and everyone we consider friends and family. It may take you a long time to regain their trust, but I know you can do it, kiddo. But you know what, Lance? There's one thing you haven't lost and you never, ever will."
"What?"
Slipping to his nephew's side, Greg pulled him into a hug. Surprised, Lance stiffened, then relaxed into his uncle's hold, clinging with all his strength. Resting his chin on brunet hair, Greg whispered, "I love you more than you can imagine, mio nipote, and I always will. I know you don't believe me right now, but that's the truth."
Lance crumpled, tension releasing into a storm of tears while Greg held the young man in place. But though the ice was broken, Parker was keenly aware that his nephew's frame remained stiff, wary of how quickly the comfort offered could also be withdrawn. Still, it was a fresh beginning.
Parker wasn't sure what Ed told his team, but he was grateful when they heard him out, not saying anything as he outlined what had occurred two Mondays previous as well as how his nephew's 'ritual spell' had come to a crashing halt. Lance's letter rounded the whole room as the tension in the air began to rise. Greg hadn't held back any details, yet he could feel the growing anger. While his friends felt badly about the young man's injuries, the sympathy did nothing to mitigate their justifiable rage at having been manipulated by family. Even when he explained Marina's role in the whole mess, most of the fury was still directed at his nephew, not his fiancé, though they understood why he'd temporarily severed all contact with her.
His gaze shifted to the refrigerator, an image of the soda bottles inside appearing in his mind's eye. Despite the dinner they'd just finished, his throat felt parched and it wanted soda.
The sound of the 'fridge's door seal releasing startled him. But the thirst for soda kicked in again and his eyes were pulled to those bottles sitting on his middle shelf. He reached for one, closed the door, and moved away before wrenching the cap off. He drained the contents, tension dissipating. Greg polished off the bottle and twisted the cap back on before tossing it.
It took a few seconds, but then he registered an intense, powerful emotion sweeping through him. Desire. Need. Love. His whole body shook as the obsession took hold, leaving him incapable of thinking about anything but the object of his love.
Marina.
Because the potion was affecting Greg's magical core, the effects were beginning to spread…
'I think I can use my magic to push the potion out of your bloodstream, but for that to work…'
'Kiddo, look at me.'
Lance brought his head back up, meeting pained hazel.
'For that to work, what?'
'You would have to trust me. Totally and unconditionally. And, um…' At the silent prodding and the expectant gaze, he blurted, 'It wouldn't just be me talking to you; I'd be inside your head for as long as it takes.'
Uncle Greg sighed. 'And you don't think I can trust you that much, am I right?'
'What you did for me, can you do it for them?'
'Only if…'
'Only if they trust you unconditionally, huh?'
'Yeah.'
Uncle Greg considered, then nodded. 'Not a problem, then.'
'Greg, you were right,' Ed remarked, ignoring the murmurs of agreement from the others. 'He knew what to do; we got no idea if 'Lanna could've done what he did.' There was a pause, then the Sergeant added, 'When he wakes up, tell him we forgive him.'
One brow hiked. Just like that?
'Yeah, just like that, Sarge,' Wordy cut in. 'He did what none of us could and he did it even though he knew we were mad at him. Probably made his job a lot harder than it had to be.'
Smiling even wider, Greg picked up the call. "Hey, kiddo, how you doing?"
"Greg?"
Marina. "How did you get that phone?" Greg hissed, rising from his seat. "Where's Lance?"
"Greg, please, help."
"Marina, I don't know how the heck you got my nephew's phone, but you put him on. Right now."
"I can't," Marina sobbed. "Greg, you have to hurry." With that, she gasped out an address and hung up.
Inside a small room, he found his targets. Marina was kneeling over a still, motionless form. Both hands were pressed firmly against the victim's upper thigh, attempting to stem the blood that flowed from under her palms and through her fingers. An open balisong lay in the pool of blood between her and the door. On her opposite side, Greg spied Lance's smartphone, but it was the tug of magic in his heart and the victim's brunet locks that confirmed his worst fears.
As they pulled out from the warehouse, Ed flicked his attention to the rearview mirror. Spike's dark eyes met his, just as fearful, because all of them could feel it. They could feel their lieutenant weaving his magic around Lance, clinging to him with every bit of strength he had.
"Greg. You gotta stop," Ed ordered. "We're on our way to the hospital and we'll make it in time, I promise, but you can't risk yourself like this, buddy."
Greg's eyes came up, actually meeting Ed's in the rearview mirror as utter heartbreak shone in the depths of glowing scarlet. "He's my son, Eddie; I can't let him die."
Now
Three large black trucks muscled their way through the early afternoon traffic, sirens wailing, lights flashing, and engines roaring as they flew past the other vehicles on the road. In the lead truck, Sergeant Ed Lane focused on the road, shunting the 'team sense' to the side with a sniper's brutal practicality. He couldn't change what his best friend was doing; the only thing he could do was get them to the hospital as fast as possible. Once they were there, then the Healers would take over and halt Greg's latest stunt in its tracks.
"All right, guys, once we get there, we're gonna have to move fast," he announced. "Assume the Boss can't help; Sam and Lou, you carry him. Spike, keep the kid in contact with Greg until Word and I can take over. Jules, stay with Marina. Keep her away from the Boss; he sees her right now…" Ed trailed off, unwilling to finish his thought on an open comm, but he knew his team understood.
"Copy that, Boss," Spike acknowledged. "Once you and Wordy take over, I'll get the doors."
"Ed, it's a tech-side area," Jules cautioned. "Lance is bleeding pretty bad and there's going to be civilians around."
"I hear you, Jules, but we got no choice," the Sergeant replied. "Kira, distance check."
"Two kilometers and closing," Kira reported, tone sharp. "At the second light ahead of you, turn right, then it's a straight shot. Uniforms are onsite at the warehouse and Team Three is enroute to clear the building."
"Good; we grabbed the kid and ran," Ed admitted. Not the most professional thing to do, but given what a Suppression Potion could do to an already injured Wild Mage…
"Kira, see if you can pull in some backup," Wordy interjected. "Sarge is using his magic to keep Lance alive, but we can't break them apart. Once we get to St. Mungo's, we'll need cover while we get them inside."
"On it," Kira promised.
Ed hauled his steering wheel into a turn, a faint smirk appearing as his teammates followed, all of them shooting past an idiot who'd tried to take advantage of the sudden green light instead of holding still. "Straight shot, you said?"
"That's right," the dispatcher confirmed. "Should be on your right, but tech-side, it looks like an old department store, not a hospital."
Wizards. They had to hide everything, even their hospitals. Ed growled under his breath and pushed the accelerator down even harder.
A shower of green sparks greeted their arrival; even as he threw the truck into Park, Ed could feel the magic going up around them. Repelling Wards, he would bet the next three months' paychecks on it. That solved their rubbernecker problem. Even as he thrust his door open, the other two trucks were skidding to a halt on either side of his. Lou and Wordy bolted from the second truck while Sam swung out of the third truck's driver's seat, slamming it shut before running around the front.
The four men converged on the first truck's back door; Wordy yanked it open, staying out of the way as Sam and Lou grabbed their lieutenant by his belt and shoulders. Inside the truck, Spike wriggled in between the front and back seats to support Lance from underneath. Aside from a low moan, the teenager didn't react to the contact as the three officers sought to move their superior and his nephew without physically breaking them apart. Studying the operation, Wordy frowned, then moved around behind Sam and Lou so he could crouch right next to the open door.
As their lieutenant's stocky frame cleared the door and opened up a small space, Wordy reached out to help Spike support Lance's weight. "Easy, guys," he coached. "Hold it right there."
Lou and Sam froze, giving Wordy time to work his way further underneath. It was awkward, particularly since the big man was trying to get into a space that wasn't large enough for him, but then their lieutenant adjusted as well, arching his back and hunching over to provide just a bit more room.
"Okay, Spike, I got him, but I don't think we're gonna get Ed under here." Without moving, the team leader ordered, "Ed, you get the doors. Spike, you help me with Lance, understand. I need you to get more towards the door, so we can get him further out and I can change position."
"Copy," Spike agreed, twisting and even kicking against the truck's frame to wedge himself further underneath the injured teenager. "I got him, Wordy."
"Go," Wordy ordered, shifting his stance and releasing his hold even as Lou and Sam resumed backing away from the truck. Keen gray studied the operation, muscles coiling. As Lance cleared the back door, Spike yelped when he lost his grip, but the big constable surged upwards, catching the teen before he could fall. "Got him!"
From the side, Ed nodded approval. "Spike, we're clear," he reported. "Take your time and catch up when you can."
"Copy," the bomb tech called. "See you inside."
Leaving the truck's back door open, the three officers carried their lieutenant and his nephew towards the nearby building. Their Sergeant outpaced them, meeting Junior Auror Queenscove by the hospital's department store façade. "Okay, Neal, we need a door big enough for a whole group," he insisted.
"Yes, sir," Neal agreed. Turning to the dusty, ragged clothing dummy in the large department store window, he ordered, "Emergency entrance!"
"What is the nature of your emergency?" the dummy inquired.
Before Ed could snort disbelief, the brunet wizard stepped forward, head high. "Activate Auror Division bypass."
The dummy's vacant eyes glowed white a moment, then it nodded. "Magical signature verified, Junior Auror Queenscove." With that, the whole window flared, then vanished into an entrance just as long and tall as the window had been.
He was aware of what was going on around him, but Greg Parker's world had long since collapsed to just himself and the precious life his magic was cradling. Scarlet burned in his eyes as he maintained pressure on the thigh wound and let his power spread inside his nephew. Faint surprise touched his soul; his magic was even more frantic than he was and it took him several seconds to understand. Then he had to choke back a hysterical laugh; his magic still believed Lance's magic was his. Oh, the irony; a trick Lance had pulled to help him and now that trick was coming back to pay dividends for both of them.
The fading golden magic knew the truth, but it was desperate to survive and Greg could feel it weaving around his own, helping his power to anchor Lance's struggling magical core. He could sense the Suppression Potion, too; even as his magic sought to bolster Lance's, the potion was pressing against the core, forcing it to shut down, little by little. If that happened, his nephew would die a miserable, painful death as his magic ran out with nothing to replace it. He remembered, all too well, how his own core had shut down, sending him into intense nausea and delirium. If not for his friends, it would've gotten worse and worse, until his body finally gave up the fight. He would not let the same happen to Lance – to his nephew by blood, but his son by heart.
Scarlet wrapped around a magical core twice as large as his own, whole and strong, but unable to resist the effects of the Suppression Potion. Even as Greg's power slid into place, the core ground to a halt; his heart stuttered in his chest, but his magic wasn't done. Not by a long shot; it sank into the core, almost merging with it. When Lance's chest expanded, sucking in air, Greg felt his own lungs expand as well. Fear tugged, but he shoved it aside, refusing to let go. His magical core shuddered as it synchronized with the last pulses from his nephew's core and his heart vibrated, the sensation painful as it adjusted to match Lance's. In that moment, he understood what he'd done – in binding his magic to Lance's, he'd tied their fates together. If either one of them died, so would the other.
Senior Healer Baird Queenscove had worked at St. Mungo's most of his adult life; many of his friends and colleagues regarded him as one of the best Healers in Wizarding Toronto. While flattered by the description, Baird was always keenly aware of his own shortcomings and grateful for the aid of his equally skilled fellow Healers. And despite his acknowledged talent in the art, most of his coworkers would've been astounded to learn that Healing hadn't been his first choice of career.
No, like his father before him, Baird had gone to the Auror Academy right out of school, determined to uphold the family tradition of serving on the front lines. He'd graduated with honors and joined the Auror Division, but on one of his first cases with his training Auror, the older wizard had taken a nasty curse, one Baird knew would make the man bleed out before they could get to St. Mungo's. The young Junior Auror had called his personal family house-elf and sent her after the criminal while he stayed with his training Auror and painstakingly healed the injury, ignoring any and all protests until he was done.
After that, he'd expected a reprimand or disciplinary action, but instead his training Auror had forced him into an exchange program with St. Mungo's. His new coworkers had been unimpressed – right up until they got a good look at his almost instinctive gift for Healing. After that, well, the Auror Division refused to let him come back and his father convinced him that ignoring his talents in favor of the 'family honor' was nothing short of criminal, so Baird had remained with the hospital and found new ways to serve his community.
For that reason, he hadn't protested when Nealan chose to leave his apprenticeship at St. Mungo's for the Auror Academy. They'd been grieving the unexpected deaths of Neal's older brothers – both had been Aurors like their grandfather, but they'd tangled with a particularly nasty criminal, one who'd been so determined not to get caught that he'd triggered a whole roomful of Explosive Potions, destroying himself, his estate, and all seven Aurors who'd been sent to arrest him.
His son was a good man and already making his own mark on the Auror Division, just like his father and grandfather before him. Yet his potential for Healing remained, a potential Baird sought to nurture when he could, though he would not force Nealan to St. Mungo's. It might've worked for him, but it had also caused a great deal of resentment – resentment that had taken him many years to work through and overcome. To do that to Neal…to his son who defied authority, wielding wit and sarcasm just as well as his wand, but who still believed in making the world a better place… no. That was the wrong course, entirely.
Yet as Baird Queenscove called his son to his side and levitated both Lieutenant Parker and young Lord Calvin onto a stretcher he'd just Enlarged, the Healer found himself wishing he'd kept Neal at St. Mungo's after all. If he had, then Parker would be just another patient, not a respected colleague his son looked up to. He would not be the man who'd come in right as Neal had been desperate to protect his Muggleborn classmate and forcibly set the Auror Academy on its ear.
Healer Queenscove said none of that as he sent another Healer to get Susan Travis. No, he waited until he and Nealan had gotten their patients in a room well away from Parker's teammates before he spoke. Surveying the pair on the stretcher, he cursed under his breath. "Parker, you fool."
"Father?"
Grim, Baird cast a diagnostic on both patients, nodding at Neal's horrified gasp. "A Suppression Potion. I would wager Parker's magic sensed it as soon as he touched the boy."
"But Father, doesn't that mean he was right?" Neal asked, frowning. "I know their magic is tangled together, but Wild Mages can't live with their magic suppressed like this."
"True," Baird agreed. "But there are ways to deal with such a situation, Nealan. If Parker had merely supported his nephew with his magic until arriving here, that would not have been an issue, but that is not what he did." The Healer shook his head. "I will explain later; go and have Kadie bring two Sleeping Potions and a dose of freshly-brewed magic booster."
As his son hurried away, Healer Travis arrived, gasping at the diagnostic still floating in the air. "By Morgana and the Morrigan," she cursed. "What was he thinking?"
"I do not believe he was," Baird drawled. "As has been typical of our good Auror, instinct, not thought, has ruled the day."
"One of these days he's going to get himself killed," Susan hissed.
Baird fixed her with a gimlet eye. "You know as well as I do what we are likely to find."
The blonde stilled, a terrible understanding dawning. "Can we disentangle them?"
The older Healer shook his head. "Parker would fight us, particularly since the boy's core has now shut down."
Travis swore several vicious, vile oaths under her breath; Baird wisely pretended not to hear. As unprofessional as it was, Parker deserved every last insult at the moment. In fact, once the situation was resolved, the Healer fully intended to repeat each and every insult to Parker's face. And then he would give the lieutenant a lengthy diatribe on why he was not a Healer, nor a Muggle superhero.
In the meantime, Baird gestured for Travis to begin setting up the room's monitoring capabilities while he Enlarged the hospital bed to be large enough for both patients. He levitated the pair from the stretcher to the bed, taking the opportunity to cast a spell on the young Wild Mage's thigh to stem the bleeding. The injury would need to be documented before it was completely healed, but that was easy enough. No, the difficult part would be gaining access to the injury.
The Healer frowned at the pair, then leaned forward, channeling his magic through his wand. With exquisite care, he moved Parker's left hand from the thigh injury to the boy's stomach. The stocky man stiffened, resisting the effort, and Baird sighed heavily, reaching out with his free hand to tap the Auror's shoulder. To his surprise, glowing scarlet eyes came around, almost sinister in their intensity.
"Lieutenant, I have stopped the bleeding for now, but I must have access to the injury," Healer Queenscove informed his secondary patient.
Pure scarlet regarded him, turning thoughtful. Then the stocky man nodded and pulled his right hand away from his nephew's thigh, though his magic kept them connected as Parker adjusted his entire position, turning the boy so his injury was facing up towards the Healers while Parker himself gripped the young man in a hug.
"Lieutenant, if you can, I need you to pull your magic away from your nephew's core," Baird insisted.
The red swirling in his eyes darkened and Parker shook his head fiercely, pulling the boy in even closer.
"Oh, give it up!" Travis burst out, dragging astonished scarlet to her. The blonde loomed over the bed, jabbing her finger at the half-bald Auror as she snarled, "It does not always have to be you, Parker! We won't let him die, but you need to let us do our jobs!" Her light brown eyes narrowed at him. "I don't care if your instincts are screaming that you're the only person on this entire planet who can save your nephew; you need to tell them to shut up and start thinking!"
Abashed, Lieutenant Parker sank down, shifting his gaze to his nephew. Then he nodded and closed his eyes. Baird held his position; Travis knew which spells would be needed and in what order – and clearly she knew how to communicate with Parker in a language he understood, a far more important detail at this precise moment in time than which of them was more experienced.
Slowly, bit by bit, the scarlet magic pulled away from the boy, sinking back into Parker's skin. Sweat beaded on the stocky man's forehead and his jaw furrowed as he fought to command his magic. Still, this was crucial, critical, and necessary – so long as Parker's magic was inside the boy, the Healers could not help him as they should. But if Parker could extricate himself from the tangled web of power he'd woven, then their chances of saving the boy increased exponentially.
Then the boy struggled, crying out without ever waking, and Baird saw all the scarlet magic snap back into place. Parker's entire form lurched and to the Healer's horror, he struggled for air he couldn't get. Not with his breathing synchronized with his nephew's. The teenager inhaled, his uncle following suit, and fearful scarlet rose. "Can't." A hoarse, desperate whisper.
Baird sighed heavily. "I feared as much," he admitted, pulling attention to himself. Dark green met Lieutenant Parker's current shade of scarlet. "I am sorry, Lieutenant, but that leaves us with only one option." Solemn, he continued, "We will put both of you under and dose you with a magic booster. So long as your core can supply your nephew's needs, he will be stable and he should be able to survive until the effects of the Suppression Potion cease."
Parker considered, then nodded acceptance. Travis made a motion, but Baird shook his head at her, keeping her quiet. The blonde scowled, but turned back to her task, wand jerking in short, angry movements as she continued setting up the room's monitoring. Scarlet flicked to her, then back to Queenscove. "Messed up. Again." Shame and regret rang, along with an understanding of what Baird had not said.
The Healer met that scarlet without flinching. "Yes, you did," he agreed. Then his eyes trailed to the young man cradled in Parker's grasp. "But if it were my son, I am not sure I would have done any better."
Then Neal hurried back into the room with the two sleeping potions and the magic booster. Worry shone; his son understood just as well as he did what was likely to happen. "Father? Are you sure?" he asked.
Baird took the sleeping potions and set them on a table at the foot of the Enlarged bed. Grim, he held Parker's scarlet gaze. "I am sorry, Lieutenant."
A faint smile appeared and the stocky man gathered himself. "See you on the other side." His eyes fell to the sleeping potions and he swallowed harshly. "Do it."
Senior Healer Baird Queenscove inclined his head and gestured twice with his wand. Parker gasped as he felt the potion hit his system, then scarlet slid shut and he fell back on the bed, still holding his nephew tight to his chest. A third flick Switched the magic booster into the Auror's stomach and Queenscove held his position as his patient's form was outlined in scarlet. It would not take long for Parker's core to absorb the potion entirely; once it did, it would generate twice as much magic, but even that would not be enough to sustain both patients for long.
As long as they were careful, the boy would survive. But Parker would not.
Ed swallowed hard as the 'team sense' lurched inside him and his link to Greg shut down. Ever since his friend's core had pulled that shutdown maneuver, the 'team sense' had been on 24/7 – for it to be cut off felt wrong. It left him feeling uneasy. Anxious, nervous, troubled…terrified. The foundations of his world were shaking once more, even worse than they had after the May Dalton hot call. Now he wished they'd confronted Greg over his behavior while they'd had the chance.
Despite his own inner turmoil, the sniper Sergeant lifted his chin and plastered confidence in place. His constables were looking to him to be their leader; even Wordy was looking to him, fearful in the face of the 'team sense' shutting down on them. And yet…he was supposed to be Team One's leader. That was why he was wearing the chevrons on his arms, why he'd worn them ever since the day his best friend had been forced undercover – he was Team One's Sergeant, not Greg. Funny how it wasn't until now that he really, truly understood that. He had understood that, right up until his friend had come home and then he'd tried to hand his authority over his team back to Greg. But they couldn't change the past and Greg wasn't a Sergeant any more. He was a lieutenant now, the SRU's second-in-command; his duty was to the whole of the SRU, not just Team One.
Even as Ed wrestled with a truth he'd spent the past few months ignoring, he spied Neal coming down the stairs from the hospital's upper floors. The Junior Auror's face was wan, his expression sorrowful and regretful all at once. When he spied Team One waiting, the brunet blanched and backed upwards, only relaxing when his father and Healer Travis moved past him.
A chill of foreboding swept through Lane's body – if Neal was afraid and hiding behind his father, then it was bad. The Junior Auror was no coward and no stranger to Greg's boneheaded stunts. There had been more than a few times when Ed had walked in on young Queenscove reading their lieutenant the riot act over one thing or another – typically Greg working through lunch when he needed to gain weight, not lose it. And the expression on Healer Queenscove's face…closed, yet troubled. Subtle, but the SRU was trained to pick up on the subtleties – you never knew which tiny, insignificant detail might blow a hot call wide open. Travis was even worse – she was angry, though Ed couldn't tell if she was angry with her coworker or something else.
Stepping forward, Sergeant Lane met the two Healers head on. "How are they?"
Queenscove shook his head and gestured for the officers to follow him as he led the way past the Welcome Witch desk towards another room nearby. The Sergeant gestured for his team to keep quiet, understanding that the Healers were waiting until they were in a private area to explain. Sure enough, Queenscove guided them right to an empty room and sealed the door behind them.
Then he turned to regard the officers, dark green solemn. "Sergeant Lane, officially, I must have your permission as Lieutenant Parker's proxy to inform your teammates of his status."
"You got it," Ed replied. "What about Lance?"
Travis stepped forward. "Lord Calvin is a legal adult in our world, Sergeant Lane. His medical proxy of record is Lieutenant Parker. No alternates have been designated, so normally we would not be able to share anything with you, but…"
"But since his condition is inextricably tied to Lieutenant Parker's, we shall take the position that if Lieutenant Parker were able, he would have approved of your involvement in Lord Calvin's medical concerns," Healer Queenscove finished. His gaze shifted to his son. "Nealan has the details on the physical injury young Lord Calvin sustained, but that is easily dealt with."
Ed nodded once. "We can deal with that later," he agreed.
"It's the Suppression Potion, isn't it," Sam put in, eyeing all three Healers. "That's what's causing all the trouble."
Queenscove sighed. "In a word, yes, Constable Braddock." His mouth turned down and thinned into a line of disapproval. "Unfortunately, we do not know the formulation of the Suppression Potion, so I cannot theorize on how long it will last, but I do know it must be extremely potent." He hesitated, then confirmed their worst fears. "Lord Calvin's core suffered a complete shutdown at some point during your journey from the warehouse to this hospital."
Wordy hissed, but all of them stiffened. "What does that mean for Lance?" Jules asked.
The Healer folded his hands together, but Travis responded first. "Even a regular wizard would be in critical condition if their magical core shut down, Constable Callaghan," she explained, tone almost tart. "For a Wild Mage…" She shook her head. "All Suppression Potions work by forcing a magical core to slow down and generate less magic. There are long-term potential complications regardless of an individual's magical nature, but Wild Mages are particularly sensitive to any sort of magic that affects their magical core." The blonde glanced down, frowning as she pieced her explanation together. "Even when a wizard is magically exhausted, that doesn't mean that their magical core has stopped working, just that they've depleted most of the magic available to them."
Sam arched a brow. "So the problem is when it happens artificially?" he ventured.
"Precisely," Queenscove broke in. "If a magical, Wild Mage or otherwise, could put themselves at risk merely by using their own power…" He scowled heavily. "It would be unreasonable in the extreme; a magical that cannot use their magic would be less than a Squib. Not a Muggle since they would still possess magic, but even a Squib may use their magic from time to time."
The officers nodded, understanding that the Healer wasn't trying to be insulting. He was describing a potential scenario as best he could. Spike cocked his head to the side and asked the follow up question. "So most Suppression Potions don't shut down the magical core?"
"No, they don't," Travis replied. "Slow it down or impede it, yes, but shutting down the magical core…" She shuddered. "It should be anathema."
"We are unsure of the precise symptoms a Wild Mage might face that a regular wizard would not," Queenscove interjected, "but the ultimate result is easy enough to determine."
"Death," Ed filled in, toneless as he slammed his sniper mask in place.
"That is so," the Healer confirmed. "In one regard, your lieutenant made the best of a bad situation by supporting young Lord Calvin with his own magic."
"But?" Wordy pressed.
Queenscove's jaw worked, distaste filtering in. "He went much too far. His magic is woven so tightly with Lord Calvin's magic that he was literally unable to withdraw his power so we could take over." The Healer shook his head. "With his magic tightly intertwined with Lord Calvin's magical core, we cannot interpose our own measures."
"In other words, we can't put the kid on life support," Travis interrupted, crossing her arms. "Parker's doing CPR and chest compressions, but he can't stop and let us take over with a defibrillator or a ventilator." She smirked at the older Healer's chiding expression. "Trust me, they understand that, sir."
"Sarge can't do that forever," Spike protested.
"No, he can't," Travis agreed, smirk dropping away into solemn regard. "The analogy breaks down a bit there. We've basically given him a stamina potion to keep him going, but even that can't last forever."
Lou frowned, rubbing his chin. "Stamina potion buys us time?" he ventured. "But you can't administer it again, can you?"
"No, we can't," Travis admitted. "Right now, our best case scenario is that Parker's magic gets the kid far enough through the Suppression Potion that we can sweep in when his core stops and put the kid on life support."
Ed's mouth dried up, but he forced the question out. "What about Greg?"
The blonde Healer grimaced. "Once we get the kid on life support, we can try to restart Parker's core, but that's a crapshoot at best. Even if we do manage to restart his core, we've got no idea how much damage it might take in the meantime." Sorrow emerged. "If his core collapses, it might be kinder to just let him go."
The team recoiled and yet… After everything their boss had been through, was it really fair to demand that he keep going? It felt wrong to let him go, but what was the alternative? To live with a crippled, broken magical core, what kind of life was that? Ed's blue caught Wordy's gray and he could see the big man's troubled expression. Yes, Wordy had lived with a crippled core most of his life, but now that his core was better, now that he knew what he'd been missing all those years, what would it be like to go back to a crippled core? And that was assuming Greg's core didn't collapse altogether and flood his nervous system with magic.
"What do you want?" Ed asked, tone numb.
Travis met his gaze, though her voice trembled. "We need you to sign a Do Not Resuscitate order for Lieutenant Parker, Sergeant Lane."
