Chapter Five: Of Death, Life, and Second Chances

They all felt it as the links within them surged to life, thrashing wildly against the inevitable before beginning to fade. The first time, the links had cut off, vanishing into thin air, but now they could feel their boss leaving them. Slowly, but inevitably and there was nothing they could do to stop it. No way to save their friend from his own reckless choice.

Ed fought the urge to curse Greg out – why had he done it? Why hadn't he trusted the Healers to do their jobs? They'd been on their way to St. Mungo's; surely the Boss could've held back a little – surely he could've kept Lance alive without binding his power to Lance's faltering magical core. And yet…even as the fury rose, so too did Greg's soft declaration that he couldn't let his son die. He hadn't had an argument then, he still didn't have one now.

Dammit, Greg. Of all the ways it had to end, I can't even curse you out for it. I would've done the exact same thing for Clark.

Sam's low hiss brought him around. Silver glimmered in the sniper's blue and Ed felt hope surge within him. Could they do it again? Could they lend their magic to Greg long enough for him to survive? But even as hope unfurled, Sam shook his head and glanced at their team leader. "Wordy, any luck?"

Gray was overlaid with Wordy's dark blue magic, but broad shoulders slumped down. "It's still there, but nothing's getting through. You?"

"Same thing," Sam admitted.

"What are you guys talking about?" Roy asked and Ed froze. Of all the times for them to get careless… He did not want his brother finding out about the 'team sense' ever, much less in the middle of his best friend dying.

Wordy shrugged, a deliberate nonchalance in the movement. "We think it's something Morgana did when she unlocked all our Animagus forms," he lied. "She magically tied us to Sarge so, um…"

"You can tell what's going on," Giles filled in. "You were trying to use your magic to help him?"

"Worth a shot at least," Sam whispered. "He kept us as sane as he could while we were trapped."

Roy's expression was still suspicious, but his partner nodded, sympathetic. Behind the pair, Ed worked to keep his mask in place. Admitting to the 'team sense' at all was risky in the extreme, but Wordy's hasty story appeared to have worked. Then Roy demanded, "When were you gonna tell us?"

The brunet team leader flinched, but Ed heard himself reply, "Roy, it's not that big a deal. Once we were human again, it started going away, but there's a few traces left." An outright denial, but there was no way he was going to tell Roy the truth.

"Lay off, partner. I wouldn't put anything past that witch after what she's pulled," Giles interceded, though he turned towards Ed with an arched brow. "You thought Morgana le Fay made those potions in Parker's 'fridge?"

"Why not?" the sniper countered. "She's vindictive enough to do it, all of it. Make Greg obsessed with Marina while she leaves Lance on the ground, bleeding out and dying from a Suppression Potion."

"Boss is right," Lou agreed, crossing his arms, though there was a subtle flinch behind the movement as the links writhed within them. "She makes the Malfoys look like pikers when it comes to revenge."

The Auror nodded thoughtfully. "She said it wasn't, though."

"Not sure I'd believe anything she says at this point, partner," Roy grumbled.

Jules shook her head. "No, I think she was telling the truth, Roy." Brown eyes flickered around the whole group. "We're angry, but Marina was manipulated. For all we know, they used magic on her, but even if they didn't, they took advantage of the fact that Sarge couldn't tell Marina the truth about magic."

"Doesn't give her the right to kidnap Lance right out of his bed," Sam argued.

"Of course not," Jules agreed. "But did you see the look on her face when Ed and Giles told her who the 'Malisons' really were? She didn't have a clue and now she has to live with what she did."

As the negotiator paused, Lou stepped in again. "She's scared of whoever gave her those love potions," he pointed out. "I bet the subject threatened her and backed it up by stabbing Lance in front of her."

Spike cocked his head to the side, puzzled, but Ed had already caught Lou's train of thought. "She called him. She was in trouble and she called Greg for help. She wouldn't have done that if she wanted Lance dead."

Understanding swept around the group. "She got in over her head," Sam muttered.

"By the time she realized, it was too late," Spike finished.

Classic recipe for a hot call, only this hot call had struck right at the heart of their team. This hot call was about to destroy their family – a feat no one else had ever been able to accomplish. Where Moffet had failed, where Morgana's multiple attempts had failed, even where the Troy siblings had failed, the Malfoys and their mystery subject had succeeded. They'd used Marina like a wedge, pushing the Boss and his kids apart until their family had been divided for one critical instant. One mistake, one slipup, and it had all come crashing down.

As if in response, the 'team sense' flared to life yet again, driving all of Team One to their knees as the links thrashed inside their magical cores. Roy dove for his brother and Ed couldn't even bring himself to worry about revealing their greatest secret as he felt his best friend's life drain away.

Please don't die on us, Greg.


Lance leaned against his uncle, sobbing his heart out. All the fear, all the uncertainty, all the time he'd wasted by wondering if his uncle really loved him… What had he done? How could he have ever doubted his uncle's love for him? Inside his soul, the teenager promised to never let himself be tricked again – he would never let anyone convince him that his family didn't care about him. Never again.

Then he heard a sharp gasp and felt Uncle Greg tremble. His head came up, horror lighting sapphire as he saw his uncle flicker. Gentle fingers touched his chin, pushing just enough so his eyes met his uncle's hazel. "I don't regret anything, mio nipote. Not when it comes to you or Alanna."

"No, don't leave me!" Lance pleaded, finally hugging his uncle, clinging to him with all the strength he had. "Uncle Greg, you can't die on me!"

Mixed joy and regret flowed across Uncle Greg's face, then the older man sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I went too far this time and I'm about to pay the price for that." Hazel opened again. "But you are going to live, Lancelot. I can't regret that, even if it means I'm about to die."

"I don't want you to go," Lance begged. "Please don't leave me."

Uncle Greg's thumb moved to his face, gently wiping away a tear. "I am so proud of you, mio nipote. You're going to be just fine, I promise you. Tell your sister I'm proud of her, too. Tell her that I saw your parents and they send their love."

"You saw my parents?"

A solemn nod. "They're prouder of you than I am, Lance. I'm sorry to leave you like this, but you can handle it, kiddo, and you're not alone. Team One is going to be there for you, Alanna, and Dean – they won't let you fall." Uncle Greg flinched, his form wavering before snapping back into view.

"No!" Lance cried, reaching for his magic. "You can't die!"


Baird sent Travis away when the monitors dipped below a Squib's typical level of magic. It wouldn't be long now and while he could've used the help, he'd seen a wizard die of a core shutdown before and he would not inflict that horror on young Susan Travis. Grim, the wizard pushed the memories aside as he focused on getting ready for the list of spells necessary to stabilize young Lord Calvin once Parker's core shut down.


The golden power didn't come at his call and Lance screamed frustration. No, no, no, no! He wouldn't let his uncle die, he wouldn't, but without his magic, how could he save him?

Uncle Greg's form flickered once more and he cried out, slumping sideways on the bed. Weary, pained hazel rose. "Stop it, kiddo. Your magical core shut down; that's why I did it. I'm sorry, but there's no last second miracle this time."

"That's what you think," Lance snarled, clenching his fists. He didn't care if his magical core had shut down a thousand times, he wasn't going to let his uncle die! Reaching for his magic again, he bared his teeth. Don't you dare let him die! I already lost my parents, I can't lose him, too!

In the depths of his soul, another Voice answered, "Son of Adam, it is not your place to judge the days granted to you or any other."

Lance froze, but answered nonetheless. "Please, Aslan, don't take him away. There's still so much life he has left to live. I can't lose him, I just can't."

In his mind's eye, he saw the Lion regard him, both regal and sad. "There are many who lift their voices to Me, pleading for more time with those they love. All Men die, child; if My Father is calling your uncle home, that is His decision." A pause. "But what of you, Son of Adam? Will you turn away if I do not grant your plea?"

His soul screamed its answer, but Lance knew that was only his grief talking. Anguish rose and he hugged his uncle, burying his tears in Uncle Greg's trembling shoulder. "I love you, Uncle Greg."

A shaking hand pulled him close. "And I love you, too, mio nipote."

Out loud, Lance pleaded, "Aslan, if You're going to take him, do it. Don't make him suffer like this." Inside, he crumpled, but somehow his voice remained steady. "And tell Tash to go to hell!"

Uncle Greg laughed, running his hand through Lance's brunet locks as he started to fade out of existence. "Copy that, kiddo."


Ed gasped as his link to Greg faded into nothingness, leaving an empty hole in his soul. Grief rose, engulfing him just as it had after the fire. "He's gone, Roy."

Roy hugged him; Ed stiffened, then let his brother support his weight. "I got you, bro. I got you," the younger Lane whispered, shades of Jerome's loss shining bright.


Parker's form went still as the monitors shrieked. Baird closed his eyes for a moment, committing the Auror's soul to the gods, then lifted his wand, the words of the first spell on his lips.


In the silence between worlds, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea turned to His Son and spoke a single word. "Enough."

The Lion inclined His head, then threw it back and Roared.


A tiny spark of magic flared as the concentric cylinders that made up the magical core creaked. Then the innermost cylinder began to turn, throwing off more sparks. As it began to gain momentum, the next cylinder creaked and turned in the opposite direction. One by one, the cylinders started, slow, but steady as they built up pressure. In the center of the core, magic began to flow, glowing as it left its enclosure, racing out into the still form that depended on it.

Such an action was in defiance of all magical laws – an exhausted, depleted core could scare afford to spare the only magic available to it. No, in the ordinary course of events, the core should have hoarded all its power, stowing it away until all the cylinders were at full power and full speed, with the core's internal reservoirs well on their way to recovery.

Instead, the newborn magic skated across the surface of the core, seeking out the threads that had merged with it. Once it found those threads, it surged through them, reaching the core on the other end in the space of a single heartbeat. With the path established, the magic sent a signal back to its origin, pulling more power through the fading threads with a determination born of a teenager's refusal to bow to Fate.


As his wand started down, Parker breathed; Baird froze, jaw dropping open as he stared. Then he cast a diagnostic, eyes bugging out as he stared at the results. Impossible.


The golden core roared as its cylinders raced against each heartbeat, using magic almost faster than it could be generated. So fast did the cylinders race that heat began to build within the core, but that heat was diverted just as rapidly as the magic refused to yield. With each second that passed, more and more power was available and it spread through the woven 'forest' of magical threads that surrounded the core, bringing them back to life before any could fade into oblivion.


Uncle Greg snapped back into view, gasping as his form solidified. Inside his chest, Lance could feel his magic and his uncle's magic, but he didn't care. Instead, he flung himself on his uncle, sobbing for pure relief and clinging with every bit of strength he possessed.


Senior Healer Baird Queenscove staggered back from the bed, astonishment and a sense of pure awe suffusing his soul. Behind him, the magical monitor had returned to normal and even a bit above normal as young Lord Calvin's core continued to feed magic back into Lieutenant Parker's body.

The initial startup had terrified him – although a magical core was unlike anything else in the world, it could no more sustain such a rapid generation of magic than the heart could survive a surge of eckeltricity. At least, that was what Healer Travis had told him once, comparing eckeltricity to how a wizard's nervous system would shut down if the magical core ever collapsed.

For several moments, he'd been on the cusp of casting a spell that would force Lord Calvin's magical core to slow, but as soon as the shrill alarms in the background had cut off, the young man's core had stabilized, not reducing its speed, but maintaining it until the unnatural heat dissipated and the core's reservoir began to fill.

The cause was not hard to deduce once he put his mind to it. Somehow, Lord Calvin had known when Parker's core began to fail. Somehow, despite the last lingering traces of the Suppression Potion in his system, Lord Calvin had forced his core to restart in time to keep Parker alive. Incredible; he never would've guessed that was even possible.

With a quiet sigh, Baird cast a diagnostic that few besides himself would understand and allowed a thoughtful hum. Parker's core was weak and badly strained, but with magic flowing through it, it would not deteriorate any further. The links to his colleagues had shut down, but really, that was for the best. If they hadn't shut down, Parker might well have taken all of them with him, an outcome that would've left all the survivors reeling. As it was, Baird suspected the lieutenant's former team believed him dead. Even with the links shut down, if his theories were correct, they still would've felt it when Parker's core had finally ground to a halt.

The Healer nodded and reached for the half-magical, half-Muggle device Nealan had given him. He needed to alert Commander Holleran to the fact that Parker would survive, but it was highly likely that some of his Aurors believed their superior dead. The wizard paused, studying the device. Bother. How was he to explain that conclusion without betraying the intimate details he was Oathsworn to keep?


Greg's arms were still trembling as he held his nephew, but he didn't care. He was alive and a little shaking was the least of his worries. One hand stroked brunet locks and Lance didn't even protest as he'd half-expected. It didn't take long for exhaustion to win the battle and the stocky man managed a tiny smile as his nephew slipped into slumber between one breath and the next. Even the bravest, most resilient teenager could only handle so much emotional overload in one day.

Drawing in a deep breath, he cringed when Lance followed suit. They were still tied together and probably would be until one or both of them woke up in the real world. He'd been so stupid; he should've backed off as soon as his breathing, magical core, and heartbeat started synchronizing with Lance, but he hadn't. He'd walked right into a fatal situation without any hesitation and even the miracle that had enabled his survival didn't change that fact. In fact, the longer he went without consequences, the more accustomed he became to pulling these idiotic all-or-nothing stunts.

"Son of Adam." As Greg turned his head, the bedroom around him dissolved into the fields of Narnia and he took in the sight of the Lion. Deep amber eyes gazed into his and the Great Lion rumbled, the sound faintly disapproving.

"I know," Greg whispered, dropping his gaze. "I shouldn't have done that and it's only by Your grace that I'm still alive." Shrinking down, he added, "I'm sorry."

A heavy paw touched his shoulder and he glanced up, surprised. The Lion's muzzle bent into a frown. "Son of Adam, there are times when you must trust Me to provide, rather than attempting to use abilities I have not granted you."

Shame-faced, Greg nodded, unable to muster a reply.

"Now rest, Son of Adam. There is much to be done and you will need your strength to do it."

Part of him wanted to protest, but Greg was suddenly aware of how tired he felt and how sore his body still was after coming about as close to dying as a person could come. Glancing down at his nephew, he pushed a lock of hair away from Lance's eyes, smiling at the tiny sigh of contentment as his nipote snuggled closer.

Looking up at the Lion, he whispered, "Thank you for giving me another chance."

Aslan rumbled, but this time the sound was approving. "You are welcome, My son."