Chapter Six: Voyage of the Basset
Determination stiffened his back. He wasn't going to lose them. He wasn't going to turn his back and walk away from his own family. The world was still confusing and off-kilter, but he had enough clues now to piece together what had happened. A spell or something, designed with him in mind, ensuring that even with his natural resistance to mind-magics, he wouldn't remember his own family. Just like when Morgana's spell had thrown his team into chaos as she banished Wordy to Guns 'n' Gangs and left them believing a young Guns 'n' Gangs detective was one of them. When Marina had come back into his life because Morgana's spell had wiped out their original bargain. That time, he'd known the real history all along, but he'd been helpless to reverse the damage.
The idea that someone had done it again and, worse, had managed to alter his memory as well… It stung at his pride – so much for Wild Magic's ability to withstand mind-altering spells. And yet…his soul remembered what his mind could not. And his soul was screaming for him to do something. If he kept standing here, staring after his niece like an idiot, he was going to lose them. He couldn't trust his mind, couldn't rely on his memories, but his heart? His heart knew the truth and it was time to let it loose.
Parker lifted his chin and started after his niece only to pause as his magic whispered. Before, he hadn't needed his car or his gun, but now he did. Alanna was crying too hard to get far while he ran to get his SUV; he could find her again rather than immediately confronting her and making a hash of things.
Torn, he swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to run after his nipote and get her back, but he didn't dare risk screwing it up. He had to do this right or he'd spend the rest of his life regretting it. So he swore under his breath and whirled, running full pelt for his apartment and fumbling for his keys as he ran. Why hadn't he at least gone back for the SUV before instead of wasting time now?
As the stocky officer ran, his stride lengthened, stance adjusting to take full advantage of each step, pushing him well beyond the speeds most humans could reach. The walk lights seemed to sense his approach, always shifting to white as he neared each crosswalk. In less time than he could've imagined, he was darting up towards his apartment complex, key fob in hand to get through the gate. Not a soul was around to see Parker skid through the outside door or the mid-step twist so he could race for the parking garage; he gave silent thanks that he always parked on the ground level if possible, unwilling to risk his car getting trapped on the upper levels if he needed to get to work in a hurry.
Adjusting his grip on the keys, Greg thumbed the start button on his remote twice, bringing his car to life with a muted roar. It was stupid, but he found himself sliding across the hood without ever having planned on it; on the other side, he yanked his door open and jumped in, jabbing the start button to enable the car's gear shifter. Glancing both ways, he pulled forward out of the spot and hit the streets again within seconds.
The SUV's headlights cut through the darkness as Greg scanned the sidewalk for his niece. Inside, his magic hummed, reassuring him that he was on the right track, but cautioning him that he needed to tread carefully, lest he lose them forever. The part of him that knew what was going on alternated between grief-stricken keens and pointed jabs that he darn well should've known better.
Because much as he loved Marina, she did have a tendency to form an opinion and then hold that opinion against all comers, no matter what facts they might bring to bear. Even without the memories that had been stripped from him, he could hazard a guess as to what had happened. A bad first impression that had eventually led her to view his nipotes as competition. In the way nuisances at best and only she knew what the worst might be. And for some reason, he had never stepped in, never acted to make it plain that his nipotes were part of the package and she could take it or leave him. Why had he done that? Why had he risked the best parts of his life? He couldn't answer that question, not without his memories.
There. She was walking alongside the road, head down and probably still crying, though he couldn't hear her over his car's engine. It was a public road and no one was supposed to pull over, but he didn't care. Pressing down on his accelerator, he got ahead of her, then stepped on the brake, bringing the SUV to a sharp halt. Throwing the car into Park, he got out, leaving the engine running and the driver's side door partially open. Just enough to keep the SUV from wailing about the key being outside; he did not need the noise making this any harder.
She knew him on sight, had probably recognized his car in a split-second, and though the tears continued to flow, the redhead was braced for combat. Acid words already locked and loaded unless he missed his guess. Parker spread his hands in a peace gesture, but she was having none of it. "What do you want?" she hissed, bristling.
"Alanna, please," he begged. "Give me another chance; I won't ever leave you behind again, I promise."
Violet flashed and she snorted disbelief. "What, you're gonna walk away from your fiancé for two little orphan rejects? Like that's gonna happen, especially since you don't know us from a hole in the wall. Don't make me laugh."
His fists clenched without thought. "Who called you that?" he demanded, fury ringing. Who had dared to call his nipotes 'little orphan rejects'?
The redhead laughed, the sound mirthless. "Like you care," she jeered. "You know, I kept believing in you." The defiance cracked and she hugged herself. "I kept telling myself Lance was wrong, that even if you didn't remember us, you'd still choose us." Fresh tears flew as she shook her head. "Lance was right; you were always gonna pick her over us and why not? She's your real family now, so stop lying to yourself and just walk away." Her chin rose, the very picture of brittle courage. "Maybe you took us in, but we were never your family. So just go away and leave me alone!"
The insults to Marina should've done it, should've driven him right back to his SUV and out of the girl's life, just like she claimed she wanted. But her jaw quivered and Greg's heart told him she still believed in him. She was lashing out, testing him with every barb she could hurl, but so long as he didn't walk away, she hadn't lost faith. Not entirely.
So instead of backing away, he moved forward. "I'm sorry, Alanna. I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I hurt your brother, too." Drawing in a deep breath, he forced out the next words. "If you really want me to leave you alone, I will, but I don't think you mean it. You just want to see if I'll turn on you again, am I right?"
"Don't." Anger narrowed her eyes. "Don't pull the negotiator card on me. Don't you dare treat me like I'm some helpless little girl out on a ledge who has to be talked down." Violet studied him, harsh and unyielding. "You love her."
It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. If he lied or deflected, she would know.
"You love her so much you can't imagine life without her."
Again, he nodded.
"Well, that's our problem, 'cause she can't imagine life with us," Alanna informed him, anger trembling right on the edge of tears. "You choose us, you lose her, understand?"
The gulp was harsh, his whole body trembling at the thought.
She didn't miss it. Sorrowful, she stepped forward, reaching up to touch his chest. "Go. Just go. You can have her; you can have your perfect life with Dean and your new wife. We'll be fine without you. You don't really know us any more anyway." With that, she turned away, continuing her walk down the street.
"Wait."
Red hair shifted back towards him, one eyebrow lifting.
"It's late; at least let me drive you home." If she let him, if she accepted, it would buy him time. And he'd know where she lived.
"I'll be fine."
"Even if you're mad at me, my car is safer than the streets," he blurted.
As Alanna shuddered and immediately looked towards his SUV, he maintained his pose, but inwardly took note. Angry and hurting, she still regarded him as safe. Still trusted him without hesitation. The only problem was…Marina. He still didn't have more than hints, most of which Alanna had screamed at him, but the picture those few clues were painting was…disturbing. And though Alanna clearly regarded Marina as the greatest problem, Greg was getting a very sinking feeling that he himself was the even worse problem. He refused to believe he'd missed the signs which meant…he must've ignored them. Downplayed them. Enabled them.
He had permitted the situation to reach a point where someone he loved could scream in his face that he'd never loved her and believe it. And if Alanna was the one who'd maintained faith in him, then her brother likely held an even dimmer view of his conduct. No matter how he might try to spin the situation, it was clear he held the lion's share of the responsibility. Not for what he'd done, but for what he hadn't done. Fixing this was not going to be easy and might well be impossible, but he wasn't going to just roll over and play dead. Not until he'd tried everything he could think of and a few more things besides.
Wary caution surrounded both driver and passenger as Greg pulled out from his makeshift parking spot. Keeping his tone noncommittal, he asked, "Alanna, do you want to put your address in my car's nav system or would you rather just give me directions?" It would be easier if she used the nav, but he was pretty sure she knew he'd figure out her address regardless.
Violet eyed him sidelong, then Alanna shrugged and reached for the central console, slim fingers tapping in commands with an ease that told him she knew his SUV and how it worked very well indeed. Then she sighed and cast him an expectant look. Internally, Parker winced and scanned for a handy parking lot. None appeared, but the light ahead turned red just about the time he reached it. With the vehicle at a complete stand-still, the nav system re-enabled its keyboard, permitting Alanna to tap the information in without any further fuss. Even better, the computer located the address; a part of Greg had expected an area with newer construction that wasn't in his nav's pre-loaded maps – he still hadn't gotten around to purchasing the latest updates, which meant his nav system was still operating with the maps that had been loaded when it had first been built and leased, long before he'd bought it.
By the time the light turned green, the nav system was humming and it helpfully instructed him to go straight for another kilometer or so. Mentally, Parker whistled; Alanna must've come to that park on purpose because if he was reading his map right, she'd walked well over three kilometers from her current 'home' address. Hope budded; she'd come looking for him. Not to his door, but to his neighborhood – and his own magic had done the rest.
The officer stayed at the speed limit, sorting through his options and discarding anything that was over the top or outright fantasy. He didn't want to lose his nipotes, but at this point, any missteps would cost him the war and they'd be hyper-sensitive to anything that even appeared to be against them. There was also the problem that Alanna had raised. Them or Marina, no in-between. Rationality insisted that the kids already hated him and he didn't know them anyway, so why waste the time and effort trying to get them back if that meant he'd lose the love of his life?
The fork in the road, the eventuality he'd been warned about, but hadn't wanted to confront. Aslan had said it straight out, if he chose one path, he would forever lose those that chose the other. He'd never imagined that would apply to his family, but now it was all too plain. And if he refused to choose, the choice would be made for him. Maybe it already had been, maybe that was why he couldn't remember Alanna or her brother. Maybe he'd already lost them and he was flailing in the dark for what he'd willingly given up.
Grief surrounded him, but he clung to one final thing. Even if he had to lose them, he could at least say good-bye instead of letting them disappear like phantoms. Drawing in a steadying breath, Greg surveyed the streets, making his turn as directed. As long as they were happy, then he'd done his job, if terribly. They could survive on their own and he could…he could have Marina and Dean. But no niece and nephew. He couldn't remember what he'd lost, but his heart wept and sobbed at the idea of just… Giving up. But maybe…maybe that was for the best.
The closer they got, though, the more his instincts snapped on alert. Broken streetlights, bumps in the road, even several potholes that should've been filled, but for some reason hadn't been. And the area; he hadn't recognized the exact address, but he knew this area and it wasn't a good part of Toronto. What were his nipotes doing in a rundown neighborhood like this? Who on Earth had let them get within a hundred kilometers of these streets? By the time he located the address Alanna had put in his nav system, he'd come to the firm conclusion that his nipotes were coming home with him. At least until better living quarters could be found. If Marina didn't like it, tough luck, because he was not leaving any family member of his in this part of town.
Sliding into a handy parking spot, Greg eyed the building, noting how rundown it appeared, even in the middle of the night. "Alanna, stay with me," he ordered, only to turn his head at the sound of her door closing. Blast it.
Scrambling out of his side, Parker darted for the back of his SUV, swinging the rear hatch up and diving for his gun safe. His magic pulsed, shining in his eyes, and the safe clicked open. He blinked at the white envelope on top of his personal gun, but shoved it aside to seize the weapon. Yanking it out, he bit back a snarl and racked the slide – unlike his work weapon, he usually didn't chamber a round with his personal weapon unless he was planning on using it. It left him with only seventeen rounds instead of his usual eighteen, but he doubted he'd need even one. The threat would be enough, especially with the badge in his wallet.
Weapon in hand, he swung the rear hatch back down and locked the car with a tap at the button right next to the hatch's handle. Then he hurried across the street, following his magic and his gut instincts into the rundown apartment complex. She had a head start, but the earlier tracking had taught him how best to handle his lack of conscious memory. Trust his heart and let it guide his actions.
Without missing a beat, Lieutenant Greg Parker bypassed two buildings to enter a third, scrambling up three flights of stairs; he made a face at the scent, but never paused in his movements. At the top, he rammed his shoulder into the door separating the stairs from the hallway, just in time to hear raised voices.
"Touch me again and I'll kill you!" Alanna shrieked, yanking her arm free from a rough, ragged blond who was either drunk or strung out.
The man leered, deliberately raking Greg's underage niece with his eyes; he could practically see the lout undressing her in his mind. "Come on, sweetheart," he wheedled. "Spend a night with a real man." Still staring, he licked his teeth.
"Or you could run along and stop bothering my niece," Parker growled, tone dangerous as he moved up next to Alanna. Topaz glared into the blond's dark orbs as his free hand flipped his wallet open, revealing the badge.
The man paled, backing away from the pair. The more Greg glared, the paler he grew, until he turned on his tail and fled into a nearby apartment, slamming the door behind him. Other doors slammed further down the hallway, much to the officer's private satisfaction.
Turning to his niece, Parker arched a brow as he tucked his wallet away. "I told you to stay with me, Alanna. That was why." He nodded to the nearby door. "Is that your apartment?"
Sullen, she ducked her chin.
"All right. We're going to go in, get your brother and everything we can move tonight, and then we're going back home. We'll figure things out, but for tonight, neither one of you are staying here. Not on my watch."
"Why do you even care?" she flared.
"Alanna, enough," Greg ordered. "Throw whatever tantrums you want once we're out of here, understand?"
"It's not like we're moving," the redhead sulked.
"Oh, yes, you are, missy. No one I care about is staying in a rattrap like this." With that, Greg stalked over to the apartment door and held his left hand out expectantly. He wasn't entirely pleased when Alanna opened the door instead of handing over her keys, but the thought vanished as soon as the distinct scent of blood hit his nose.
Alanna let out a cry and fumbled for the lights. When they came on, Greg almost wished they hadn't. A young man was curled on the kitchen floor, beaten to a pulp, and laying in a small pool of blood. Tall, still growing into his height and solid build, with brown hair and making a nasty rasping sound as he breathed.
"By the Lion, Lancelot!" Alanna wailed, hurling herself at her brother; Greg caught her with his left arm, dragging her back.
"Alanna, no, he could have broken ribs!"
She stilled, turning towards him with frightened, pleading, trustful eyes.
"Go. Get yours and your brother's things packed," Greg ordered, already crouching down next to the unconscious victim. Bitterly, he wished he'd brought along a holster, but warily lowered his weapon to the ground, well away from the blood pool. With his left hand, he dug out his phone and with his right, he checked for a pulse. Weak, thready, but there. "Stay with me," Parker murmured to the young man as he jabbed the buttons for 911. When the operator picked up, he didn't even wait for the usual spiel before reeling off the address of his current location. Once he confirmed she had it, he continued, tone brisk with no hint of his inner anguish. "My name is Lieutenant Greg Parker, SRU. Badge number 213; I have an unconscious victim with numerous blows to the head and body, probable broken ribs, and bleeding. I need EMS and backup; I'm off-duty and only have my personal weapon."
"Understood, Lieutenant. We'll get those units rolling right away. Are any suspects in custody?"
"Negative; I was coming by with the victim's sister to pick him up and we found him inside the residence." The officer paused, looking the young man over even as he inspected the floor between Lancelot and the door. "I suspect he dragged himself inside after the altercation, but lost consciousness before he could call for help." Or he hadn't bothered, too battered and broken by all the emotional turmoil in his life to keep fighting. Parker kept that to himself; without his memories, he knew nothing about the young man aside from his name, a truth that stung and lashed at his heart. Dropping his gaze to his phone, he drew in a shuddering breath. "Dispatch, I'm going to put the phone down, but I won't hang up until backup arrives."
"Copy that," the woman on the line agreed. "Would you like me to pass you off to SRU, Lieutenant?"
"Negative." The word was crisp, but the emotions roiling in his gut were not. He wanted SRU backup, but until he knew what the heck was going on, they would just get in the way. They'd demand answers he didn't have and hang over his shoulder right as he was trying to figure out how to break this blasted, bloody spell. If the young man… No. If his nephew died, he didn't give a damn what Marina thought or said. Alanna would be staying with him, if she'd have him. If he lost one, he would not lose the other. Leaning forward, he dropped his voice low, though he knew dispatch could still hear him. "Stay with me, kiddo. We're gonna be okay, you hear me?"
To his shock, the brunet groaned, eyes flickering open to reveal brilliant sapphire for an instant. His breath caught; the young man who'd approached him right after that all-night hot call and given him an address. An address that had been dead-on right – and he would never forget how grateful their primary subject's children had been. No one should be afraid of their own parents like those kids had been; they should've hated the Aurors, but instead even the oldest had been clinging like a small child to the horrified patrol Aurors.
Soft, the teen rasped, " 'Lanna?"
"She's safe," Greg reassured the boy, a few more pieces slipping into place. Gentle, he rested a hand on the brunet's shoulder. "Help's coming, just hold on." Another groan emerged and Lancelot shifted; Parker pushed down, keeping him in place. "Easy, sport, don't try to move."
A hand reached out, streaked with blood, both fresh and dry. "S…sorry… I just…"
Greg gripped the trembling limb. "Shhh… You stay with me. You're going to be fine, I promise."
"Love you," came the rasp, though the speaker was fading fast. "Always did." Energy spent, he slumped again; alarmed, Parker checked his pulse, relieved when it throbbed under his fingers.
At a sound, he turned his head, but it was only Alanna, clutching two backpacks. "You got everything?" He didn't see how, not with only a pair of backpacks.
She bit her lip, but nodded. "Is he gonna be okay?"
"He's young, strong, and help's on the way," Greg reassured her. Hazel fell to the hand he gripped and he eased his fingers open to check for injuries. Bruised knuckles, of the sort typically acquired in a hand-to-hand fight. "Alanna, has your brother gotten into any fights recently?"
"No. He was fine when I left."
Suspicion narrowed his eyes. "And did anyone try to grab you on the way out?" Her squirm answered both his question and the mystery of why Lancelot had been beaten so badly. He couldn't prove it, but he had no doubt the 'friendly' neighbor hadn't taken kindly at all to Alanna's overprotective older brother. Then he blinked; how had he known Lancelot was older?
Noise sent him diving for his weapon, frustration a living thing under his skin. He hadn't been able to do anything to help his own nephew; Alanna guiltily admitted the apartment didn't have any first aid supplies and despite the fresh blood, most of the injuries in easy reach had already started scabbing over. Since Greg wasn't about to take the risk of moving Lancelot any more than necessary and he hadn't been able to feel any deep injuries, all they could do was wait for the paramedics.
The hand that scooped up the Glock was a bit blood-stained, but Parker didn't care. He'd stopped caring about much of anything beyond keeping his nipotes safe, memories or no memories. The officer didn't bring his gun up, but kept it ready; firing one-handed wasn't the best strategy, but he'd been trained to fire accurately, no matter what. Right-handed, left-handed, or with both hands, he could always hit his target. On the job, he was a negotiator, but right now, he was off-duty and he was the only protection these two teenagers had; he'd already failed them badly, but he wouldn't let it happen again.
Then gryphon hearing caught the chatter and clatter of EMS and he lowered the gun, though he didn't set it down. "Alanna, stay with your brother," he ordered, rising to his feet. "Don't move him."
"Copy that," Alanna replied, scampering to Lancelot's side. "Should I hang up?"
"Not yet." The lieutenant strode to the door, adjusting to stand half in and half out. Hazel darted towards the nearby apartment door, narrowing in anger, but the occupant wisely remained out of sight. When the stairwell door opened from the other direction, Parker's shoulders relaxed. Two paramedics led the way, followed by a pair of uniformed constables. Greg moved out of the way and indicated the apartment, earning nods before the man and woman team hurried inside to their patient. Inside, Alanna scrambled out of the way, taking her uncle's cell phone with her. At his nod, she quietly thanked the dispatcher and hung up, violet returning to her beloved brother as the paramedics assessed his injuries.
"Sir?" one of the uniformed constables asked.
Turning, Parker pulled out his wallet and showed them his badge, grateful he'd had time to think up a decent story. "The boy's name is Lancelot Calvin," he explained. "The girl is his sister, Alanna. They live with me, but last Monday they ran away." A faint grimace appeared; there was no missing person's report to back that part up, but he could hardly explain why. "They must've been planning it for awhile; I couldn't find any trace of them until tonight when Alanna came back. I drove her back here so we could pick up Lancelot, but we found him unconscious on the kitchen floor."
"Any idea why they ran away?" the older constable inquired, studying him closely.
His shoulders slumped, the grief genuine. "My girlfriend really doesn't like them," he admitted. "I think they might've started assuming I'd choose her over them and jumped the gun."
And they'd been right, too. Hardly a day or two after they'd left and he'd already been proposing. That he hadn't remembered them was no excuse; his memory might be faulty, but he'd bought the ring before the spell took effect. What on Earth had he been thinking, to buy a ring when he must've known Marina didn't like his kids? Heck, for all he knew, buying the ring was why that blasted spell had been cast; he had a nasty suspicion as to how the spell had been able to affect him. Resistant to mind-magics he might be, but what if the spell used Wild Magic? Could Wild Magic do what no other type of magic could?
Shifting, he gazed back into the apartment, anguish twisting his features as the paramedics worked on his nephew, slipping a backboard under him and securing a brace around his neck. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the marks of the fight on the outside of the apartment. The blood smeared on the walls and dents in the plaster that probably hadn't been there before. Frowning, he turned in place, surveying the hallway and the opposite wall.
"More than one assailant," he mused aloud, earning surprised looks from the constables. He started to gesture, then shook his head and reluctantly tucked his gun in the back of his belt, making a mental note to not leave it there. Hands free, he gestured to the walls. "See the blood spatter? The fight happened here."
Both uniforms moved in, examining the walls themselves. The younger one reached out, only to freeze when Greg grabbed his wrist.
"Don't disturb the evidence," Parker chided. Not that they had much of a case until Lancelot could give his statement. Too many tracks through whatever blood evidence was on the floor and an argument could be made that in a shady part of town like this, the blood spatter on the walls could be months, if not years old. Still, the experienced officer could read the general outline of the fight and it spoke to a conflict that might've started as a simple fistfight, but escalated from there.
"You were on the streets, sir?" the younger constable questioned, surprised that someone with high rank might've started where he had. Especially when the rank of Lieutenant wasn't used in most of Toronto.
Parker nodded. "I was on the beat, then Homicide until I joined the SRU," he confirmed. His expression darkened and he faced both men. "Look, I think I know who the primary suspect might be, but until my nephew can give a statement, I got no evidence." The stocky man's jaw firmed. "I'm going to give you my number; you tell the investigators to call me directly. I'm off-duty, so this isn't an SRU matter."
"We'll need to let your commanding officer know," the older constable pointed out.
A sigh of agreement. "Give me until morning?" Greg requested. Hazel darted sideways. "Hopefully by then, he'll be out of the woods."
Sympathy softened their regard. "I hope he pulls through, sir," the older one said, nodding. "I've a son of my own."
Startled, his head snapped back. "He's my nephew." A nephew he couldn't even remember.
Brown eyes a few shades darker than his own crinkled as the man smiled. "I know what a worried father looks like, Lieutenant. You take good care of them, you hear?"
With a tightening throat, Greg whispered, "Copy that, Constable."
Alanna rode with her brother; Greg would've liked to, but he knew if he left his SUV behind, it would be stripped by morning. He'd been lucky to get away with the hour or so it had been parked already. So he tucked his personal weapon back in the gun safe, taking the envelope with him before he closed the safe, locked it up, and let the false bottom tumble back into place. The two backpacks he hefted into the rear area, one eyebrow arching at the solid thunk they made on top of the false bottom that hid the SUV's spare tire access, his gun safe, and a number of useful supplies he always kept in the car. Then he put the vehicle in gear and followed the ambulance to Mount Sinai, the nearby hospital.
Once there, he parked and picked up the envelope from where he'd tucked it in the center console, fingering it thoughtfully as he slid out, locked the SUV, and walked into the emergency room. His badge and a brief description got him access to his nipotes, though Lancelot had already been taken for evaluation, leaving only Alanna in the small curtained area allocated to the injured teenager. A pair of folding chairs sat next to one of the curtains and Greg sank into the open one, doing his best to keep from groaning. Adrenaline and magic could work miracles, but he'd already been tired before this ill-fated adventure and the adrenaline was draining fast, leaving him with a headache as his depleted reserves struggled to cope.
"Any news?"
Alanna shook her head, violet eyes wide with fright.
"Hey, come here," Greg coaxed, stretching out an arm; he smiled as she cuddled into his side, sighing at his nearness despite all the tension that still lurked around them. He adjusted his arm to cradle her shoulders, then turned his attention back to the pristine white envelope from his gun safe. The flap was tucked in rather than sealed and when he flipped it over, his name was on the front in neat block letters. Frowning thoughtfully, he flipped it back and reached across so he could use his free hand to open it. A folded sheet of notebook paper was inside and Parker pulled it out, handing the empty envelope to Alanna when her slim hand entered his vision. A snap of his wrist unfolded the letter and both brows rose at the elegant handwriting that covered one side of the page.
Uncle Greg,
You know, it's funny. I shouldn't call you that, you know. By the time you read this, if you ever do, you won't remember me. But I remember you, so I guess that's all that counts, huh? Not that it matters any more. It used to, but I guess I ruined that, all by myself. On the first day, even, as soon as I yelled about magic and Uncle Wordy heard me. Never should've done that; if I hadn't, they never would've found out and none of this ever would've happened.
His gut tightened at the tear mark that stained the page. Of course his former team knew about magic, as did most of the SRU, but his nipotes had been the start? He didn't remember it like that… A harsh swallow broke through; how many of his memories had been affected? How many of them had been tampered with? And by his own nephew. Why? Why would Lancelot do that?
But you can't change the past, Uncle Greg. All you can do is change the future. 'Lanna doesn't realize it, but I know you and I know who'd you choose if you had to. You'd choose us, 'cause we're your family and she's just your girlfriend. It would kill you, but you'd do it. Even though you bought her that ring, you'd still choose us if it came down to it. But what good's that gonna do? Sure, we're your family, but we can't give you what she can.
Horror swamped him. Lancelot had done this for him? So he could have Marina and live happily ever after? And yet it made sense; that apartment might've been a dump, but two weeks wasn't near enough time to find an apartment and move in. How had he missed it? How had he missed that his nephew was making plans to move out, for a life after erasing himself and his sister from his uncle's life? And not just his life, either. No, Lancelot's spell had affected the SRU as well, yet unlike Morgana's spell, all of them remembered magic. Had anything changed besides his nipotes?
I watched you with her, you know. She might not like us, but she'd do anything to make you happy, Uncle Greg. And you'd do anything to make her happy, too. Anything except letting us go. 'Lanna still thinks we can go to you and you can make it right, but you can't do that without hurting her. Without hurting yourself, too, 'cause that's how much you love her. She makes you smile and laugh like you haven't done in ages. She's there for you when you're down and hurting; when you pick her up after a hard day, that helps you, too. Mom and Dad were like that, you know. They'd even quote old books at each other, books that wizards usually don't know, 'cause they're techie books. We can't take that away from you, Uncle Greg; it's just not right. She's the One; losing her would rip apart your soul. So instead I'm letting you go.
He fought to keep his hand from clenching. What had he done? What had he done? How could he have left the two brightest lights of his life alone and afraid like this? How could he have left them believing that Marina was more important than they were? Tears ran down unnoticed as he stared at the words swimming in front of him. The grief of a boy trying to tackle an adult's problems and shoulder a load he was never meant to carry.
It's better this way, Uncle Greg. Yeah, you don't remember us, but that's okay. Without us there, your magic will get better, 'cause we won't be making it go nuts. I made sure nothing else would change, but could you do me one favor? Whatever you said to Uncle Ed and Team One, take it back. They're your best friends and you're theirs. They're your team, they always have been and they always will be. Every time you say you're not Team One any more, you're just hurting them. You can still be Team One, even if you're a Lieutenant now. But, um, Dean's gryphon form will probably come out at some point. Sorry 'bout that; that's totally my fault. Just like all the rest.
No matter what, Uncle Greg, we still love you. You won't ever remember us, but we'll never stop loving you guys. I keep telling 'Lanna that our family died that night, the night the manor was attacked, but it's not true and it never was. You and Team One, you're our family just as much as Mom and Dad. So live well and be happy, Uncle Greg. Look out for Dean and Miss Marina, 'cause they're your family now. Not us.
Keep the Peace,
Lancelot Artorius Calvin
Anguish surrounded him. Family. His family. Up until now, his rational mind had been quietly sneering in the back of his brain, utterly unconvinced that these two brats were anything to him, but now… Team One, his rank, the direct reference to Marina as well as Dean. Magic and his own Animagus form, which he'd somehow already known Dean shared. It was too much to make up. Only someone who knew him and knew him well would know all those little tiny details, especially his current spat with his former team. No. His team. The truth sang in his bones, truth he'd been denying ever since he'd been promoted. They'd always be his, with a bond far too strong to ever break.
That a teenager on the cusp of losing his entire family, save his little sister, could say he loved the man most responsible for that loss was almost more than he could bear. There had to be a way to break the curse, there had to be. He couldn't let them make this sacrifice. No, no, it was his responsibility to deal with Marina and whatever fallout awaited his own foolish, thoughtless inaction. To take away their entire support system was a wrong he could not countenance, even if it hadn't been in the name of giving him his happy ending. That his perfect wedded bliss with Marina could come at the price of a willing sacrifice by two young teenagers was unacceptable. It was his job to take care of them, not the other way 'round.
How do I break it? he pleaded silently, gazing at the page and even flipping it over to check for any writing on the opposite side. How do I fix this? If Lancelot had created the spell, then surely he knew how to break it, but there was nothing in this letter that hinted at how he could choose to end the spell and bring his children home.
He felt scarlet burn in his eyes and letters illuminated in gold at the top of the opposite page. Desperate, he read the words, every fiber of his soul crying out for an end to the curse, however well-intentioned.
A scattered dream that's like a far off memory. A far off memory that's like a scattered dream. I want to line the pieces up; yours and mine.
What? What did that mean? Closing his eyes, he repeated the words to himself, hoping beyond hope that they would work. Even as he whispered, a new train of thought slipped through his mind.
"We pray for our sorrows to end and hope that our hearts will blend. Now I will step forward to realize this wish. And who knows? Starting a new journey may not be so hard. Or maybe it's already begun. There are many worlds, but they share the same sky. One sky, one destiny."
Hazel opened once more, scarlet dappling his irises. More golden letters were appearing, as if written by an invisible pen across the page. Hope soared, though the spell had yet to break.
They can take your world. They can take your heart. Cut you loose from all you know. But if it's your Fate, then every step forward will always be a step closer to home.
Was it his fate? Doubt assailed, pounding him with every single memory he had of Marina. Would he really sacrifice his life with her for two little orphans? Orphans only related to him by a technicality, his blood bond to them distant at best. Marina was the one who made him smile, who welcomed him home from hard days with a hug and a silent invitation to listen or just be with him if he didn't want to talk.
No! He wasn't going to back down, he wasn't going to walk away and let two kids sacrifice their own futures for his happiness. No matter what, he was going to face each and every consequence of his decisions. His actions and his inaction alike. But the only way he could do that was if he broke the curse and regained his own memories.
"Remember what you said before? I'm always with you, too. I'll come back to you, I promise."
What? When had he said…? 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. And if he had anything to say about it, it never would. And 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. Lance. Alanna. His nipotes, his children in all but blood. That he could've ever forgotten them was terrifying; that he could've lost them to his own stupidity, to his own wretched refusal to stand up to Marina… Unforgivable.
And yet, as memory bubbled back to life, there was one final memory that wasn't his. No, as it played out before his eyes, he knew whose it was. Lancelot's. His nephew's memory of when the ritual had been triggered. So intense had been the emotions surrounding the event that an echo had imprinted itself onto the ritual, ready and waiting for when it broke.
One phrase to trigger the ritual and another to end it. So impossibly simple and yet Greg knew that if not for the letter, he never would've been able to break the spell. The magical world had never even heard of The Voyage of the Basset and although he read from time to time, he wasn't a big reader. Particularly not of children's books.
But the trigger phrase… Greg's heart sank as that part of the memory replayed. Marina hadn't known what she was saying, but he did. How could he not? A validation of every unspoken accusation, a validation of why Lance had crafted the ritual in the first place. Like the release phrase, so very simple and yet filled with a teenager's heart break.
My will be done.