Chapter Five: Obscurus in Sheep's Clothing

Author note: I am so sorry for the late posting today. Job-wise, I have been on the move without pause from 6:40 AM until, well, now. I literally only just turned on my personal PC and realized I hadn't posted yet!

Please enjoy - and for the record, I agree with Wordy's definition of a day. Especially today.


What a day. What a perfectly horrible, awful, no-good utter disaster of a day. Wordy absently rubbed his thumb over his mithril healing bracelet as he paced in the clearing Hawke had found outside of Toronto. Although a man of few words, the taciturn brunet pilot had effectively shut down his female copilot's questions, insisting that there would be an explanation once Archangel and Marella arrived.

Lou was alternating between watching his team leader pace and inspecting the helicopter that had come so close to killing their teammates at McKean. Intellectually, Wordy knew the helicopter – Obscurus or not – couldn't be blamed for Moffet's actions, but he couldn't quite help the niggle of resentment towards the black and white craft. Because of Moffet, his team had nearly been torn apart and the big man privately suspected that Moffet had kicked the row of dominoes that had ultimately led to Fletcher Stadium and its subsequent fallout.

He was just making his turn for another pace across the clearing when he came face-to-face with piercing blue eyes, sported by a ghostly black and white wolf with wings. The wings were mostly black, with a band of white feathers right above the bottom third of the wings. The animal's fur, likewise, was black all over, with white on its belly and the inside of the legs. For a long moment, man and wolf stared at each other, then the wolf's head rose, ears pricking forward as it gave a little whine.

From the direction of the helicopter, he heard a soft gasp from the woman – Cait. Examining the winged wolf, he realized: it was the Obscurus. It had to be – where else would a winged wolf come from and the markings were very like the helicopter. Cautious, Wordy crouched, keeping his hands in sight, but the fingers closed; Sarge had told them once that fingers spread wide looked like claws to his gryphon instincts. "Hi there," he said, voice low and unhurried. "What's your name, pretty girl?"

"Lady," Hawke grunted from off to the side; Wordy turned his head just enough to see them. Hawke looked amused and approving; his older companion looked much the same, if rather relieved. Cait was still wide-eyed with wonder – the same wonder he'd felt once upon a time at the thought of magic.

Shifting back to the wolf, he remarked, "Lady. That's a pretty good name, don'tcha think?"

Ears pricked even farther forward and the Obscurus nodded, letting out a tiny yip.

"Something you need or were you just tired of watching me pace?"

She yipped again, laughter clear, then padded forward, nudging against one of his hands. He obliged, running the hand over her fur and gently rubbing behind her ears. He could practically feel her magic buzzing against his skin, more feral than wild, with an edge of inborn darkness. But not as much as it could've been – already he could tell the difference between the Obscurus in front of him and the Obscurus his teammates had faced off with at McKean. Less rage and anger, plus a sense that she was slowly learning how to trust.

'Why? Still so strange…'

Wordy blinked, caught off guard, and across the clearing, Lou stiffened, as though he too had heard that painfully young female voice. In his peripheral vision, none of the helicopter's crew reacted, not even Hawke. Somehow, some way, the Obscurus had tapped into the 'team sense'.

The constables traded swift glances, then Wordy replied, 'Why what?'

Lady reared back. 'You heard me!'

One eyebrow arched and the brunet couldn't help the silent, 'Obviously.'

The wolf's ears flicked back, then forward, finally coming to rest in the middle. 'Why…why did you speak to the gryphon? It is a wild animal; it could not understand you.'

Both officers cringed as they understood and remembered what Lady was referring to. Even so, Wordy held his composure, meeting the Obscurus' eyes. 'What else did I have?' He waited, but the wolf merely ducked her chin. 'Better to go out trying to reach my friend than to scream at him for something he couldn't help.' A pause and a breath. 'Besides…he did stop.'

'Yes,' Lady acknowledged. Piercing blue rose again, pinning him in place. 'He loves you all very much.'

'Loved,' Wordy corrected sharply. 'He's dead.'

'I speak as I find, human,' Lady countered, just as sharp. Then her voice turned wistful as she changed the subject. 'Cait is afraid of me, human.'

Mentally, Wordy shoved aside the acidic burning hope that the Obscurus had kindled within him. 'She didn't know about you, huh?'

'No.' The wolf whined unhappily. 'Dom is afraid of me, too, but he is getting better.' Ducking her head again, she added, 'He is wise to view me so; I have lashed out at them many times. Hurt them…didn't mean to, but hurt them…'

An Obscurus – not even a near Obscurial, like little Lucy had been, but an Obscurus and who knew what had happened to the witch it had come from. Gently, but firmly, Wordy tipped the wolf's chin up. 'It's hard, isn't it? To learn how to be human when all you've known is hate and rage and pain.'

The mobile ears pricked forward again. 'You have met one like me?' Awful hope rang.

'No,' Lou cut in, drawing the wolf's attention. 'We met an Obscurial, but she wasn't quite all the way gone yet. The Aurors found her just in time and Jules looked after her for a night 'cause she was scared of men.'

The ears wilted, but Wordy gave the Obscurus an encouraging smile. 'Hey, how 'bout we introduce you to Cait? I don't think she's afraid of you, just a little in over her head right now. She'll get there, just might take awhile.' He paused, biting his lip. 'And I don't think you're doing half-bad if you can go from how you were at McKean to how you are now in just a couple months. Give yourself some credit, Lady; Moffet did a number on you.'

To Wordy's surprise, Lady shuffled her front paws, almost looking rather abashed at the praise. 'What…what is your name, human?'

Out loud, he replied, "Call me Wordy." Then he pushed himself up and led the wolf over to 'her' humans. "It's Cait, right?"

Cait was almost the same height as Lou, with thick brunette hair that framed her face and hung down just past her collar. Thin brows above pale blue eyes framed a slim nose; red lipstick adorned a full mouth and, while feminine, her cheekbones were wide. A smattering of freckles dusted her upper cheeks, but there was no mistaking the fact that she was just as tough as Jules, used to surviving in a typically male world.

She suited her male colleagues, one with a full head of silver hair above dark heavy brows and a strong nose. The slightly taller Dom had clearly earned every last one of his wrinkles, laugh lines, and the stress lines that grooved his face and forehead, crinkling around laughing blue eyes. Something in his facial features whispered Italian to the man with two coworkers of similar descent, but what struck Wordy the most was Dom's rock-steady presence.

It was a trait he shared with Hawke, though Hawke's features were set with far more frown lines than his older mentor. The stone-faced, blue-eyed brunet had a near identical haircut to Sam's, though he still possessed the stance and rigid demeanor of a soldier – traits that had softened or disappeared in the blond sniper. From what little Sam had shared, Hawke was a good soldier and an incredible pilot, though he was haunted by the ghost of his MIA brother.

"That's right," Cait said, tugging Wordy's attention back. She gazed down at the winged wolf with a mix of interest and trepidation.

"Well, this little lady here would like to be introduced to you, Cait, if that's all right with you." As he finished, Wordy cast the woman his best hopeful gaze, a gaze that never failed to make Shelley laugh at him for being such a goofball.

Lady yipped her agreement, tail wagging; she sat, offering a paw for Cait to shake.

Cait stared at them both, then laughed and reached out, shaking Lady's paw. "It's nice to meet you, Lady," she said, crouching to meet the Obscurus' piercing gaze. "You know," she added with a wink, "I think Hawke didn't tell me about you 'cause he wanted to keep you all to himself, am I right?"

Lou snickered at the askance look the taciturn pilot shot his copilot's back; it vanished back into impassive stone when Cait twisted to glance up at him. Wordy covered his mouth to hide his own laughter – oh wow, Hawke had it bad for her. He eased back as Cait chattered away at the wolf, totally unconcerned that her conversation partner couldn't speak; Lady yipped in all the right places, inching closer until Cait started petting her.

"I've never seen her so interactive before," Dom murmured in a tone of amazement.

Wordy flicked a glance at the older man. "Maybe she wasn't ready before," he pointed out. "You don't go from a ball of hate and rage to making new friends overnight." The team leader considered, then sucked in a breath and continued, "She knows you're still afraid of her."

Dom stiffened.

"She respects that, too," Wordy added quietly. "She's come far enough to be ashamed of how she acted at first; you might have a few more backslides, but I bet she's over the hump."

"And you just know that." When Wordy stiffened, Dom eyed him, speculation gleaming. "You a wizard?"

The big constable shook his head at once. "I'm a Squib," he admitted. "Sam's Squib-born, but the rest of our teammates don't have any magic." Technically a lie, but it was really none of Dom's business.

Blue narrowed. "Thought your Sergeant had magic, too."

Wordy's throat closed. "He died." Soft, rasping, with aching grief.

Grief that Dom understood from the way his eyes were softening. One hand reached up and rested on Wordy's shoulder. "Never stops hurting," the old man murmured, then he met the brunet's gaze. "But it hurts less."

"Copy."

The whump, whump, whump of helicopter blades cut off anything more, a fact Wordy was grateful for as he turned his head to gaze up at a white Jetranger coming in for a landing next to Airwolf's lithe black and white orca color scheme.


Lou moved forward, edging in next to Wordy as the two white-clad American agents stepped out of their helicopter. Both were familiar, though the constables had already suspected – how common was the code name Archangel? The blond agent's one remaining eye attempted to skewer them from across the distance before turning to Hawke; his cocoa-skinned companion favored the officers with a raised brow, but she trailed her boss in silence.

Archangel stalked forward, jabbing the ground with his elegant cane – black with a silver handle – wielding it more as a aid to his temper than the necessary support it clearly was. "I have had enough, Hawke. No more prevarication, I want answers."

"An' if you quit snarlin', you'll get 'em," Hawke replied, voice flat. "Don't scare the Lady."

Noting the snarl beginning to curl the wolf's lip, Lou quietly gestured for her to calm down. Attacking the American agent would not be a good introduction to magic.

'My pilot!' she protested. 'Protect.'

'He doesn't need protecting right now, Lady,' Wordy interceded. 'Archangel is mad 'cause Hawke had to hide magic from him. He'll calm down.'

For a moment, Lou wasn't sure if the Obscurus would accept that, then she relaxed. 'It is like when Dom yells at String for being stupid?'

Lou bit down on a laugh. 'Kinda.'

In the meantime, Archangel halted right in front of the brunet, visible eyebrow raised. "Don't scare the Lady, Hawke? It's just a helicopter."

"She was just a helicopter," Lou broke in, calm even as that skewering gaze turned to him. "Now she's a bit more than that."

"More." The word was flat, demanding elaboration.

The less-lethal specialist gestured to the winged wolf pressed against Cait's shin, growling lowly even as she tried to hide behind her copilot. "Meet the Lady, sir. She's a magical creature that Dr. Moffet merged with your helicopter after he stole it."

Archangel's lip curled. "And you know this because Hawke told you." Hurt lingered beneath the anger, hurt that Hawke had trusted a group of strangers rather than Archangel himself. His assistant shifted forward, not openly offering comfort, but her boss's eye flicked to her then back to Lou.

Lou shook his head. "No, sir; he didn't have to tell us. We know because Moffet framed our team for a prison breakout and our friends found out about the Obscurus when they were trying to clear our names. When Moffet used Airwolf to come after us, we were able to stop him and Hawke got Airwolf back."

Both Americans straightened, surprise flashing. In one move, Archangel turned back to Hawke. "Is this true?"

"Yeah, Michael, it is," Hawke replied. After a moment, he shifted, glancing at the black and white machine behind him. "Look… Michael… I wanted to tell you, but there's laws against it. America's worse than Canada." At the raised brows he received from everyone except Dom, the pilot grimaced. "Canada only has the Statute of Secrecy," he explained. "America has Rappaport's Law. It makes it illegal for wizards to even interact with non-magicals unless it's absolutely necessary."

Wordy whistled low. "You're Squib-born, aren't you? That's how you get around it?"

Hawke shrugged one shoulder, focusing on Wordy rather than look at his shocked friends. "My family…we haven't been wizards for awhile, but we still have a couple tricks. We don't bother wizards and they don't bother us, but I know the history." He nodded towards his mentor. "So does Dom; he took me and my brother in after our parents died."

"Squib-born?" Archangel inquired, tone pointed, but undeniably curious. His silent assistant looked just as curious, though an edge of concern lurked beneath it.

Lou cleared his throat, drawing attention. "If someone's born to a magical family without enough magic to use a wand, they're Squibs." He paused, waiting for a nod from Archangel. "Any of their kids, they're Squib-born unless they're a witch or wizard."

"Magical government doesn't care about us," Hawke put in. "Most of the time, we don't care about them either, so the history gets lost." He smiled mirthlessly, then drawled, "Unless you get a group of Squib-borns and No-Majs stupid enough to play cop in the wizarding world."

Wordy bristled, but Lou smirked right back. "It's better than burying your head in the sand and pretending magic's not real. Technology's improving by the day – how long you think magic can hide? Especially when all of them think we're dumber than rocks and easy to fool."

"Or they think we still fly in wooden planes," Wordy put in, catching onto Lou's tack.

Lady laughed aloud, gleeful as she bounced around the humans with wings fluffed. From the starts, Lou knew she'd been audible to all of them, not just himself and Wordy. He grinned down at her. "You know better than that," he remarked, earning an approving yip. Then he sobered, turning back to Archangel and his assistant. "Look, it's a really long story and we're on the clock."

At his feet, Lady rumbled a snarl and the spy arched a brow, demanding details.

Wordy coughed. "Our teammates. They've been put under a mind-control curse and they're building a bomb. We know it's big and we know it's got enough shrapnel to kill a whole lot of people. We're the only ones who can stop them."

"So you called Hawke."

Hawke shook his head. "They got captured and Sam managed to override the curse enough to give them my number." Turning, he added, "Any ideas where this bomb is?"

The constables traded looks. "We saw it in the Death Munchers' hideout," Lou remarked thoughtfully. "But it looked like it was just about done."

"Even if it's not," Wordy put in, "We probably stepped up the timetable when you rescued us."

The backup bomb tech grimaced in clear agreement. "If it's in position, we're gonna have to move fast."

Archangel considered, then gave a sharp nod. "Hawke, I'll expect a full report on your return."

"At Santini Air," Hawke insisted. "The Firm can't know, Michael. Not officially; you'll all get Obliviated."

"They'll erase your memories," Dom added helpfully at the confusion on the blond's face.

The spies winced, conceding the argument. "In a day or two, then, Hawke."

"You got it, Archangel."

Just like that, Lou sensed the two men were back on solid ground – in a way, Dom's taunt had driven it home for Archangel why his friend had hidden the truth from him. Hard to resent someone for doing their best to protect you. He shifted his attention to Wordy, the teammates sharing a silent understanding even as they wished the rest of their team was present and by their side.

The group of pilots and cops watched Archangel and his assistant walk back to the white helicopter. Once inside, Lou saw Archangel thumb the controls to start the engine; the blades began to whirl, slow at first, but gaining speed with each sweep. Part of the constable wondered why the assistant had come – she hadn't said anything at all – but that was none of his business.

Afterwards, he was never sure what tipped him off, but something niggled and the constable glanced towards the tree line. A shadow near one of the trees caught his gaze and his eyes narrowed, then widened. A sneer, a rising wand.

"Look out!" he yelled, whipping towards the helicopter. "Don't take off!"

Even as he shouted, the 'copter lifted off, beginning to turn as it rose. A fiery orange spell shot from the trees at the craft and Lou reacted instantly, lunging to push the three Airwolf pilots down; behind him, Wordy threw himself flat.

Airwolf howled, fury and defiance shattering the sky before she moved, the wolf blurring as she leapt upwards and through the white helicopter's metal. Silver power flexed, wrapping around Archangel and his assistant right before the spell struck. The helicopter exploded, dropping back to the ground with a muted boom of burning fuel.

Lou lifted his head, staring at the wreckage, but the silver light was hovering above the flames. It shot forward, landing right in front of the group, then pulled back to reveal the spies, dazed, but uninjured. Lady materialized next to them, then she snarled, whirling towards the trees. Before any of the humans could react, she launched towards the wizard who'd destroyed the Firm 'copter, striking him so hard that they all heard the crack as his head struck a tree trunk a good four meters into the forest.


Author note: According to the Harry Potter Wiki, Rappaport's Law was repealed in 1965, however, this is simply an assertion and no history, nor reasoning is given. In light of that, I honestly see no reason why such a law would be repealed; wizarding governments (like most governments) tend to be resistant to change and are rarely pro-active. Even if you had many wizards who disliked the law for one reason or another, it would take a major effort to repeal this law, particularly since we know that the Statute of Secrecy is essentially a less rigid version of Rappaport's Law. Why repeal Rappaport's Law when you are still hiding from the 'No-Majs'?