Chapter Three: Saved by the Hawke
"Wordy, did you get any sleep?" Lou demanded as he dug into his breakfast.
The brunet couldn't blame the other man for asking. If his hair had been longer, he would've looked a fright, especially coupled with the dark circles under his eyes and haggard lines of stress on his face. He couldn't get the images of Sam's faint plea or Ed's blank gaze out of his mind. And more than that…
Wordy cut that train off and replied, "I'll get some after this. Your phone came back enough for me to call Lance and Holleran."
"Backup's coming?"
Sorrowful, Wordy shook his head. "Team Three's down and so is Roy." At his teammate's sharp intake of breath, the team leader tried for a calming half-smile. It felt more like a grimace. "Relax, no one's dead." Yet. "But we're on our own. Holleran told me Locksley's in the middle of hunting down a possible mole."
Lou slumped. "Dang. Now what?"
"Holleran's going to bring us our armor and more supplies," Wordy replied. "Think you can track their phones?"
"Sure thing," Lou confirmed, voice fierce. "I'll call Holleran and see if he can bring me Spike's laptop." Pausing, he pointed at his teammate with his fork. "Get some sleep, man. You're no good to them dead on your feet."
Wordy tossed the other man an ironic and sloppy salute as he snatched a bagel and rose. He would've liked to go over his whole plan, but they had time. And he really was tired. The constable ate as he headed up the stairs, only vaguely registering the lush taste of fresh bagel. The details of his plan were settled and firm in his mind, freeing him – unfortunately – to think about other things.
Like the creepy-crawly feeling of magic running through heart and soul, callously bashing through every last emotional defense he'd built for himself in the aftermath of his boss's death. Wordy flopped down on the open bed, a shiver crawling up his spine. More than even the looks on his teammates' faces, he was haunted by the feel of magic sweeping through him, reforging bonds he'd willingly broken, rekindling emotions he'd done his level best to smother and bury. Forcing him to feel again.
Only now did he realize what he'd been doing. In locking away his heart, he'd been killing the man his teammates depended on and his family loved. As unnerving as the magic had been, as much as a part of him was utterly and completely appalled at how his mind had been forcibly altered and transformed without his consent… It had done what he no longer could. He'd locked himself in and shut everyone out; the magic had blown that cage to bits, leaving him dazed and blinking in the metaphorical sunlight, almost a stranger to himself.
But in opening up, the hurt, grief, and anguish he'd buried as deeply as possible seared anew. To feel again…it hurt all the more because he'd buried his emotions and pushed them away. Two months and Sarge's body still wasn't identified. His soul keened at the lack of closure, loss ripping into him as if it had only just happened. The world was wrong and there was no way to make it right again.
The big man rolled onto his side, shaking with the effort to hold back his grief. When three sets of arms wrapped around his arm, waist, and neck, he gave up and sobbed in his daughters' embrace.
When he woke up, the big constable was thoroughly embarrassed, but he felt…cleaner. As though, by finally letting go of the coldness and the tough guy act, he had finally started to deal with the grief he'd been busily ignoring and suppressing. Finally started to heal.
He'd lived with denial and anger so long that he'd forgotten they weren't the end of grieving, only the first steps. With an almost silent sigh, Wordy pushed himself up and headed down the stairs. It was time to stop existing and start living again. But though he wasn't angry at his and Lou's magic for forcing his hand, he could not and would not forget and move on. It might've been for the best, but the magic had had no right to force him into accepting his grief and letting Lou in. He never wanted that to happen again.
Inside the safe house's kitchen, he found Shelley and Lisa chatting while Lou focused on his computer, fingers flying and determination etched on his face. Snagging a sandwich from the plate on the center of the table, Wordy asked, "Any luck?"
"Yeah, they've got their phones and Holleran says Donna was able to confirm the Imperius."
Wordy breathed out in relief. Confirmation was always a good thing in his book, though that still left the problem of how to break the curse. "Holleran say anything else?"
Lou shook his head. "We've got ammo and armor, but the rest is up to us. He can't risk getting Teams Two or Four involved."
"Copy," Wordy acknowledged heavily, dropping into a chair. "All right, here's the plan…"
Wordy, clad in shorts and a loud Hawaiian shirt, browsed through a Toronto tourist magazine as he watched Ed out of the corner of his eye and through a window. Lou was much closer, lurking in the same store aisle. A risk, but Ed seemed incapable of noticing anything beyond whatever task he'd been given.
It made the big constable wonder; surely the Imperius was more effective than this. Lisa had made the mind-control spell sound like it should've been nigh impossible to detect a victim of the curse. In theory, even the OMAC protocols shouldn't be foolproof, but not only had they worked the first time his best friend had been Imperiused, this time, Wordy had been able to detect a problem in seconds. Fast enough to save himself from the same fate.
It gave him hope. Hope that they could break the curse without too much trouble. Perhaps whoever had cast the spell wasn't experienced enough to keep his victims behaving 'normally'? Or maybe all that Wild Magic was making itself useful? Or, Wordy realized grimly, maybe the caster wasn't bothering. Even from his post outside the hardware store, he could see that Ed was acting normally enough that the clerk had no idea his customer wasn't…all there.
Ed strolled out the door with his purchases, walking right past Wordy without any pause or hesitation. The brunet let his friend get some distance, then turned and wandered after him. The constable strolled along, reaching out to take the snack Lou was offering him as the shorter man slipped in next to him. Without speaking, the tan-skinned officer held up his phone, a map showing them where all the other Team One phones were.
"What he'd get?"
Lou grimaced. "Nothing good." At Wordy's arched brow, he said, "Bomb materials."
Wordy's jaw dropped open in unfeigned horror. "Bomb supplies?" he hissed. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, man," Lou confirmed unhappily. "All they'll need is the actual explosive and this is gonna be one heck of a bang."
Gray sharpened. "How much damage are we talking about?"
"Wordy, if they use all the stuff Ed just bought, we're talking about mass casualties. He got enough shrapnel for a dozen pipe bombs."
Wordy forcibly shut down the part of his brain vehemently insisting that his teammates would never commit such a horrendous crime. No, they wouldn't, but that was the point. They weren't in control of their actions, not with the Imperius in play. "If they're smart, they'll have Spike build it."
Lou nodded grimly. "I bet he's already building it."
"Could you disarm it?"
The backup bomb tech considered the question seriously. "Maybe," he finally replied. At Wordy's askance look, Lou shook his head. "Wordy, Spike's one of the best bomb techs in the SRU. Maybe even in the city. He knows bombs, inside and out. I can back him up, but…"
"…that's what it is," Wordy finished. "You backing him up." At the silent nod, he grimaced. "We need to even the odds."
"That would help," Lou agreed. "If we can get close and get a look at the bomb, that might give me an idea of what we're up against." He brightened. "Hey, maybe I can sabotage it!"
"That's a negative," Wordy replied firmly. "If they really do have Spike building them a bomb, then that's what he's gonna be good at right now."
Lou frowned, but nodded reluctantly. "He'll catch any sabotage."
" 'Fraid so," Wordy murmured. "And that's assuming the Death Munchers don't catch you."
The tan-skinned constable snickered at the weak joke. "So what's the plan? Get close and see if we can figure out what they're building?"
"That's a start," Wordy concurred. "Come on, we gotta move. If those supplies Ed bought are the last ones they need…"
"Team One, hot call," Lou whispered.
Just as softly, Wordy replied, "Let's keep the peace."
Although the two officers did, in fact, manage to sneak close enough to get a good look at the massive bomb Spike was building, no sooner did they get that look when their luck ran out.
Lou's eyes widened in shock and involuntary disbelief as Sam and Jules cut off their escape routes, weapons drawn and up under expressions that were twisted in clear anger – except for their disturbingly blank eyes. Spike slipped in behind them, gun in hand and also up, and Ed stood looking at them with a smug, superior leer on his face. The less-lethal specialist registered Wordy edging in front of him, automatically putting himself in the line of fire, and felt a pang. What a time for their Wordy to make a comeback – right in the middle of being forced to treat his best friend like a subject.
"How valiant," one of the dark wizards behind Ed sneered, derision and scorn writ large on his face as he lifted his wand. "Imperio."
A part of Lou registered another wizard casting the same spell before Wordy moved, jolting him sideways before his momentum and Lou's bewilderment tangled limbs and took them down. In the confusion, only the tan-skinned constable saw both curses hit Wordy.
Oh, yeah, he was really starting to hate that mind-control curse. Lou swallowed the yelp that threatened to emerge when Wordy slammed him to the ground, knees first. The constable craned to look up at his friend, cringing inwardly at the blank, glazed look on his face and in his eyes. One spell and his last remaining teammate was gone; a part of him wished Wordy hadn't saved him. Then at least he'd be oblivious instead of staring up into the inevitable.
"Hold him still," one of the dark wizards ordered coldly.
Wordy didn't speak, but his hands tightened on Lou's shoulders, the pressure almost painful; the less-lethal specialist glared up at the wizards, defiant to the last and one hand on his phone. A shift of his fingers and he hit 'send'. No matter what, the Neo Death Eaters had to be stopped.
"Imperio."
Involuntarily, Lou flinched away from the onrushing curse. Then he was shoved sideways, toppling to the ground; the yellow-green spell struck Wordy instead of him. From the ground, the constable gaped, then cringed as another wizard roared the curse. Without the slightest hesitation, a blank-faced Wordy threw himself forward over Lou, absorbing the curse before it could hit his teammate.
And on it went; to Lou's utter astonishment and downright bewilderment, Wordy kept doing it. Not so much as a single Imperius slipped past the big man's guard to enspell the sole remaining member of Team One. Although he obeyed every order given to him, still Wordy protected Lou from losing his freedom. The tan-skinned officer couldn't understand any more than the frustrated wizards, though he was incredibly grateful.
At length, the Neo Death Eaters gave up and ordered Wordy to drag Lou to a cell. The team leader obeyed, clamping down on his teammate's arm with a grip so strong that the shorter, leaner man could feel his muscles protest – if they survived, he was going to have a very impressive bruise. Then he dragged the younger man through the hideout to a makeshift cell.
Once at the cell, Wordy's latest controller ordered him inside. Lou, still in his grasp, was dragged in as well; he cringed as the cell door clanged shut behind them, but shot the wizard a lethal glare. The Neo Death Eater leered and cast the Imperius one last time – Wordy lurched automatically into its path.
Dismissive, the wizard turned away, focusing on the blond constable who'd followed the small group to the cell. "You, Squib-born," he snapped, "Guard them!"
"Yes, sir," Sam replied in a dead monotone. Lou watched with dread as Sam took his post and the Neo Death Eater turned back to the pair in the cell, glee shining.
"Squib! Give me all your means of escape or communication."
Without speaking, Wordy obeyed, taking out his phone and badge to hand over. Once the wizard took them, he marched over to Lou and took his gear, expression blank and almost lifeless. Despair engulfed the constable as the wizard incinerated everything he'd been given. No way out now – and who knew how many civilians would pay the price by the time the Neo Death Eaters were finished with their Team One toys. All he could hope was that Holleran could rally Teams Two and Four to stop Team One's rampage. Dreadful thing, to hope for your friends' deaths, but Lou knew. They'd rather die than be slaves, forced to betray those they were sworn to protect.
"Squib! Do you have any weapons?"
"No."
Lou shuddered at the monotone from his friend, then shuddered again as the wizard's smile turned cruel and utterly vicious. "Excellent. Now beat your companion to death."
The constable backed away involuntarily, eyes widening as Wordy turned towards him, expression blank and fists rising. The wizard cast them one last leer, then left, laughter ringing in his wake. "Wordy, don't!" Lou yelled. "You don't want to do this."
"Yes, I do," Wordy replied and for the first time, there was emotion in his voice – a desperate longing that sent a jab of terror down Lou's spine, for it sounded just like a druggie jonesing for his next fix. Only this was a 'fix' provided by a mind-control spell that had just turned one of his best friends…into his murderer. Before Lou could do more than brace himself, the big constable lunged, fist swinging for his face.
A low groan alerted Lou that his cellmate slash up-close-and-personal jailor was waking up. Mentally, the constable braced himself – a lucky dodge and counterpunch had taken Wordy down before he could get more than a blow or two in. Much as Lou regretted it, better that he kept his friend unconscious unless he wanted to end up really fighting for his life.
With that in mind, the less-lethal specialist slipped around Wordy and levered his dead weight up enough to use a sleeper hold. Outside the cell, Sam watched with dead, uninterested eyes. Grim, Lou calculated the angles and brought his arm across, cutting off the blood supply to his teammate's brain.
'Lou, let go!'
Without thinking, Lou released. Realization and horror dawned, but even as the constable tried to grab his teammate again, Wordy rolled. Seconds later, the two men were glaring at each other from across the cell. It took the tan-skinned constable a moment to register the awareness in Wordy's gray eyes.
He nearly choked in newfound horror. "Wordy, I'm sorry," he blurted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I…"
Wordy held up a hand, expression rigid, and Lou's apologies trailed off. For a long minute, the team leader assessed the situation, then he slumped, anger fading. "Looks like it should be the other way 'round, Lou," he observed, chagrin plain. "You were just trying to protect yourself, am I right?"
Sadly, Lou nodded, swallowing around a lump. "Do you…remember?"
Wordy sat back, frowning as he considered. "I think so. Just taking a little bit." Curiosity peeked through. "They didn't Imperius you?"
In spite of himself, Lou laughed. "You wouldn't let them."
"I wouldn't…" Gray bulged as memory surfaced. "How?"
"Don't know," Lou confessed. "I just know you did."
From his spot against the makeshift bars, Wordy slumped. "Dang." He marveled a moment longer, then slumped even farther. "Now what?"
A clatter cut off Lou's reply. To the astonishment of both men, a magical smartphone slid to a halt at Lou's feet, unlocked and glowing. Involuntarily, Lou looked up at Sam – the only person who could've given them the phone. The blue that gazed back was blank, but there was a shimmer of something under the surface – hope, defiance, desperation, and knowing. The real Sam, peeking through the curse.
"Thanks, buddy," Lou whispered, earning the tiniest of nods before Sam turned away again. Wordy crept over as the lean constable scooped up the phone. It was, Lou noted absently, already open to a number.
"Stringfellow Hawke?" Wordy asked in an undertone.
"Yeah, man," Lou replied, eyeing the number. Sam hadn't picked it for no reason, after all. He trusted his friend and so, he would trust Sam's friend. "Keep an eye out, would you?" Wordy nodded and the constable hit the call button, listening to the phone ring for a few seconds before it was picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Stringfellow Hawke?"
"Who's askin'?" Suspicion rang.
Internally, Lou swallowed, but he forced his voice to remain steady and confident. "Constable Lewis Young; I'm a friend of Sam Braddock's."
Suspicion ebbed, replaced by concern. "Sam? He okay?"
"No," Lou replied bluntly. "He's under the Imperius right now and so is most of our team. Wordy and I are the only ones left and we've been captured." He paused, sucking in air. "Look, somehow he was able to fight the curse off enough to give us his phone with your number, so I'm hoping that means you can help us. 'Cause if we don't get out of here, a lotta people are gonna die. Our bomb tech's building them one heck of a bomb."
For a long minute, there was silence and both constables held their breath. Then, in a rough tone, Stringfellow asked, "They know you got his phone?"
"No," Lou said. "I'm pretty sure we can hide it from them; Sam's the only one guarding us."
The other man made a considering grunt, then said, "All right, you two hang tight. Gonna take me a couple hours to get there, but as long as you don't lose that phone, I'll be there and we'll get you out and figure a way outta this mess."
"Copy that," Lou whispered, hope a vicious knife in his ribs.
"Don't you give up," Stringfellow ordered.
"Tryin' not to," the constable admitted.
A grumble, then, flatly, Stringfellow snapped, "Try harder." Before Lou could say anything else, he hung up.
It sounded like a cross between a wolf howl and shattering glass, right before both men registered the whump, whump, whump of helicopter blades. They traded hopeful glances, then turned towards the front of their cell, tense and alert. A few minutes later, a man with a similar build to Sam hurried in, laying the blond out flat with a single punch. He wrestled with the lock a moment, then shoved the cell door open.
"Come on!" he ordered, whipping away and racing for the exit. Wordy and Lou scrambled after him, easily keeping pace with their rescuer. He led them through two hallways, then up a staircase that led to the roof. As the group emerged, the constables saw the helicopter ahead of them. The black and white craft hovered, sunlight gleaming off its paint; deadly and beautiful, all at once.
"Stop!"
Instead of stopping, the trio ran even faster towards the chopper, automatically ducking down as it swept forward, turning to be between them and the rooftop exit. Wordy heard bullets spangle off that armored hull before Hawke pulled the door open and gestured them inside. Lou swung up, Wordy following, and as soon as both men were in the back, huddled next to the engineer, the lean Hawke jumped up and pulled the door closed.
Beneath them, the chopper hummed as it turned and tilted forward, each sweep of her blades carrying them away and to safety. The helicopter rose, gaining altitude until Hawke gave a clipped nod and touched a button.
The wolf howled once more as Airwolf leapt skyward.
Author note: Seeing as we have just ventured into crossover territory, when I post Chapter Four next Tuesday, I will also be moving this story from the main Flashpoint archive to the Flashpoint/Airwolf crossover archive. I didn't want to spoil the Airwolf storyline, but now that it's out, I need to get this story in the right section.
