Chapter Four: A Mountain Lion With Wings
Under ordinary circumstances, Greg never would've considered asking civilians to assist in a takedown of any sort or demand that a serial killer's would-be victims help with an arrest, but desperate times oft engendered desperate measures. Accordingly, the gryphon ensured both men were unconscious – a sharp, swift blow to their heads – and then went after the terrified survivors.
In the time it had taken the gryphon to subdue the subjects, the two women and one man had reached the opposite side of the clearing and vanished back into the woods. In the process, they had splashed through a small stream running through the clearing, making it even easier to track the trio. Greg kept low as he loped after them, soundless in spite of the mismatch between paws and talons. Once in the forest, the gryphon detoured, relying on his speed and estimation of the trio's route to get ahead of them. Getting ahead was easy, though it took a minute or two before he managed to corner the terrified humans.
The women screamed and the man thrust himself in front, terrified, but determined. Shame and guilt lapped at the Sergeant, but he forced it aside. With a rumble, the gryphon paced forward, refusing to flinch at the anxious shrieks from the humans. They tried to run, darting sideways through the trees in an attempt to escape their unexpected pursuer; Greg cut them off, snarl-hissing his displeasure, though he wasn't at all surprised that they kept trying. As far as they were concerned, they were caught between a predator and two serial killers. He would've been shocked if they hadn't tried to run.
Minutes ticked by as the Animagus herded the three humans back towards the unconscious subjects. Part of Greg fretted that the serial killers would wake up, but he'd crushed their bows and he hadn't seen any guns during his brief inspection of their unconscious forms. If they tried to attack their victims, he could deal with it. On the other hand, if they tried to run, his predator side was delighted at the idea that he'd have to hunt them down. As his thoughts wandered, one of the females darted forward, aiming a kick in his direction. The gryphon leapt sideways, though not enough to give any of the humans an opening to escape. He growl-scree-ed warning, fixing them with a stern hazel gaze.
Trembling, the three huddled together, refusing to move any further backwards. For a moment, Greg hesitated, reluctant to frighten them further, but he needed their help. He couldn't restrain the subjects on his own. So the transformed officer crouched, bared his fangs, and stalked forward, his posture and movements deliberate. Terror locked the humans in place, all of them instinctively reacting to his actions. Shame burbled – they were afraid of him just like Wordy had been. Raw, primal instinct.
He stopped; he was terrorizing them, just like the subjects had. Even if he meant it to help them, he had no right. The Sergeant was about to lower his head and slink away when they broke, running from the predator they believed was about to pounce. Whether it was panic, providence, or a conscious decision to die at the hands of fellow humans instead of a menacing gryphon, they ran straight for the unconscious serial killers.
Greg loped after them, unwilling to let them get too far ahead of his protection. Then the first female – the one he'd been tracking – got far enough up the hill to see the fallen subjects. She skidded to a halt, staring at them, then whipped around, green eyes widening. "Did you do that?" she asked aloud.
Behind her, the couple caught up, panting for breath and still trembling with fear. Like her, they stared between the subjects and Greg; he ranged to the side, deliberately hanging back to avoid scaring them any further. Coming to a halt, he twitched his ears forward, met her gaze, and nodded. Eyeing their uncertain, fearful expressions, the gryphon tilted his head to the side, uttering several apologetic chirps. All three jumped, caught off guard by the musical sounds.
Greg might've laughed, except he'd jumped just as badly back when he'd first heard himself. As had his team…
It didn't take long for Greg to realize that virtually every sound he made was a mix of eagle and lion sounds. After the Healer had inspected his injured wing, Giles had conjured a mirror large enough for the Sergeant to get an idea of his own appearance before heading off to deal with the logistics of getting a gryphon back to Toronto. Most of his constables were still getting checked over and interviewed, but Ed and Wordy were refusing to leave him alone. Although…both men were vibrating with a certain sense of glee through the 'team sense'; they were looking forward to his reaction to his gryphon reflection.
Curiosity stirred and he paced in front of the mirror, circling this way and that so he could see himself from as many angles as possible. The eagle head came in handy, giving him a much wider field of vision than he was used to. Between his flexible neck and the eagle physiology, he was able to inspect virtually every part of his Animagus form.
One factor that caught his attention was that his head looked somewhat like a golden eagle. Thing was, he had the sense that his eagle side wasn't a golden eagle. He wasn't sure what his eagle side was, but instinct just didn't agree with the golden eagle theory.
Intrigued by the conundrum, he tilted his head, watching his mirror image respond, and chirped. The Sergeant froze, right along with Ed and Wordy.
Then Wordy snorted, doing his best to hold back laughter. "What was that, Sarge, a seagull?"
Embarrassment stirred and he churred objection.
Only to watch his constables collapse in hysterical laughter.
For, rather than sounding like a big, tough, menacing predator, he sounded very much like an oversized – if far more refined and musical – seagull. Growling internally, he hissed, adding an eagle screech for good measure. He still didn't sound like eagles he'd heard in the movies, but at least his screech was more menacing than a seagull. Which wasn't saying much – the screech sounded vaguely like a crow, though louder and more sibilant.
On the floor, his teammates howled.
Feeling his feathers heating, Greg knew he was blushing beet red with humiliation. Oh, he knew Ed and Wordy were just trying to cheer him up by looking on the humorous side of things, but there was a limit and they'd already left it in the dust. Lingering shame mixed with his embarrassment and the gryphon slunk away, silently vowing to stick solely with the gryphon cat-bird sounds instead of letting his eagle vocabulary out ever again. Accordingly, he never attempted to find out if he could 'speak' lion, either. And although both Ed and Wordy later apologized for crossing the line, it was yet one more 'brick' of embarrassment and shame between Greg and his best friends, made all the worse by the fact that Greg blamed himself for getting embarrassed over something he couldn't help.
Greg shoved aside his own embarrassment at the 'seagull' tenor of his eagle vocabulary. If he could calm the trio down, it was worth a bit of embarrassment. Keeping his posture open and nonthreatening, he chirped at the humans and made his way towards the subjects. He wasn't about to let them wake up and mess the situation up at this stage.
He was caught off guard when 'his' human came right up to him, reaching out to pet him. For a moment, the gryphon froze, then he arched his neck and let the woman stroke the feathers. Still, he was surprised; he'd just got done terrorizing them, why on Earth would they trust him after that? Even if he'd had the best of intentions, he'd frightened them and forced them back towards two men who'd killed their friends and wouldn't hesitate to kill again if given half a chance.
And yet, all three humans seemed to have completely forgotten the fear as they descended on the subjects with unvarnished glee. The crushed bows and hunter gear made it clear who the unconscious men were. When the male rescuee kicked the taller subject, Greg let out a sharp, chiding squawk. The kick looked hard, possibly even severe enough to do damage. Understandable, perhaps, but Greg didn't care. No, that wasn't right; Greg cared, but it wasn't his job to take revenge on the subjects. As a cop, even if none of them knew that, it was his job to prevent any further harm to anyone. Even two serial killers.
The Sergeant moved away his admirer and over to the subjects, gently levering the angry man away from his friends' murderers. He butted his head against the man's chest, a chiding churr-rumble rising from deep within. Warning delivered, he turned his attention to one of the crushed bows and lowered his head. Greg's beak clamped down, its sharp edges serving perfectly to sever the bowstring, granting them a short length of makeshift rope. While the campers used the bowstring to tie the first subject's wrists, Greg liberated the second bowstring for 'his' human to use. For some reason, she was perfectly comfortable with a big, dangerous predator, reaching out to pet him while he worked. She paused long enough to tie up the second subject, then went right back to petting him.
Greg rumbled, leaning into the petting. The prior times he'd been in his gryphon form, he'd found petting to be nothing short of pure bliss, even though his team found it strange and awkward. This woman had no idea he was really human; her strokes were much firmer and enthusiastic, though the sensation wasn't nearly as pleasant as when it had come from his family. Still, after months of no affectionate contact – aside from little Jane and Lizzy – Greg wasn't about to complain.
"You saved us, didn't you?" the woman whispered, smiling at his affirmative thrum-purr.
"Didn't save Susie or Andy," the other woman pointed out, grief breaking through the fear and panic. Her husband wrapped her in a hug, his own grief erupting in the sob he hid in his wife's hair.
The Sergeant wilted, wings sagging; it was true, he hadn't been able to save all the campers. Hadn't even realized danger was that close until it was too late. Despite knowing he couldn't possibly have stopped the other couple's murder, guilt still throbbed. He was a cop, he should've been able to do something.
"If you want to blame somebody, blame me," the dark-blonde blurted. "I'm the one who came running into your camp with those guys after me." One hand stroked the gryphon's neck again. "This guy didn't do anything except help us."
Parker shook his head, churring disagreement. She was a victim, not to blame for what two serial killers had tried to do. He was the cop, he'd seen the situation going sideways and he hadn't acted quickly enough. He… Wait… Greg turned his head, ears twitching. Sound. He took a step forward, listening hard. Voices, from the direction of the ravaged camp. He could hear the dismay, even if he couldn't make out the words. Backup. Help.
Rearing up, the Animagus threw his head back, screech-roaring. The three humans jumped, the camper couple instantly retreating; he ignored them, turning more towards the trees. Beside him, 'his' human was startled, but not fleeing. Greg let his foretalons drop down, gathering up every scrap of air he could get. Instinct pulsed and he reached, grasping, for the first time, his purely lion abilities. Muscles flexed, expanding in readiness.
The gryphon roared.
Amber Drake had had quite a bad run of things lately. First, she'd lost her job waitressing at a diner within walking distance of her apartment. Glum and dejected, she'd gone home only to find her boyfriend in bed with the downstairs family's babysitter. She'd slapped her ex-boyfriend, packed a bag, and left before the police could show up – the babysitter's screams for her to stay ringing in her ears as she left.
Her faithful car – the one her father had given to her on her eighteenth birthday for them to fix up together – carried her away from the Colorado town she'd been living in, even bravely soldiering up into the mountains before dying on her. Amber hadn't cried over her boyfriend's betrayal, but she wept when the faithful Pontiac wouldn't start again. She'd been on the cusp of grabbing her bags to walk back down the mountain when a dusty red truck pulled up.
Far from being her salvation, the brothers had nearly been her death. The fear as they'd dragged her to another part of the mountains before 'letting her go' so they could, quite literally, hunt her down. Amber was still reeling from the rapid turn of events that had, well and truly, saved her life. Who would've thought that a wild animal would stop two killers and rescue three humans? She seemed extremely intelligent, too. Able to understand speech and know that bowstrings could be used for restraints. Then she roared. Amber jumped; she sounded just like a real-life lion!
"It's a mountain lion with wings!" the male camper blurted; his wife giggled.
Amber reached out, noticing an amused gleam in deep hazel eyes, and petted their rescuer again. "You heard something, girl?"
Under her hand, sleek muscles stiffened. Then the animal jerked away, casting her a truly offended glare. A deep rowl-hiss came from that broad, feathery yet furry chest.
"What? What is it, girl?"
"Maybe it's a guy," the male camper suggested.
Amber propped her hands on her hips. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "You ever see a guy animal help someone they don't know?" Pausing, she added, "Except for dogs."
The big predator let out a squawk-hiss of objection and Amber couldn't help but notice that her brave rescuer retreated towards the campers. As if she'd hurt the animal's feelings. Which was absurd; what animal, even an intelligent one, cared if it was seen as a girl or guy? That was a human reaction. She paused, running that through her mind again. Human… What if…?
Before Amber could say anything else, shouts came from the trees. She tensed fearfully, jumping when their wild animal roared again, as if trying to attract attention. Except…who would go towards a lion's roar? "Hey!" Amber called, raising her voice. "We're over here!"
The campers caught on, both of them screaming for help. Amber nearly screamed herself when she realized their attackers had woken up, but before either man could get free of his restraints, their rescuer/protector intervened, snarl-hissing outrage and 'casually' swiping at the two killers with his talons. He never connected, but the threat was enough; the killers huddled towards each other, shivering at the big animal's 'threats'. Humph; served them right for killing two people and trying to kill three more.
Despite his indignation at being called a girl, Greg went back to trying to get the attention of the officers searching for the serial killers; he couldn't be sure that was who they were or what they were trying to do, but it would make sense. Even the 'best' serial killer wouldn't be able to hide the fact that people kept disappearing in this particular stretch of mountains. It was too soon for the four campers to be missed, so perhaps the victim Parker had stumbled across had been found. Or maybe yet another victim, one that Greg didn't know about…
When his three rescuees started shouting and hollering, the Sergeant nearly wilted in relief. Truly, their voices were better suited than his to attract attention – at least, the good type of attention. Most would rather go away from a lion's roar than towards it. Instead, he turned his focus towards the two subjects, unsurprised that the racket had woken them up. Shifting, he eyed them with a distinctly predatory glare and allowed a low, dangerous snarl-hiss. When the taller one glared, he swiped, though Parker was careful to keep his strike from connecting. Both subjects quailed – not unexpected. They were cowards, only willing to attack when they had the advantage, either with their bows or the knives Greg knew they carried. Although it was true that very few, cowards or not, would cross a gryphon, the Sergeant was quite sure the brothers would've reacted the same if he'd been in human form and equipped with his sidearm.
The gryphon flattened his ears, both to communicate his displeasure and in an attempt to shield himself from the yelling going on around him. Necessary as it was, he still didn't have to enjoy the audio assault on sensitive hearing. Despite the noise, he stayed where he was, determined to see his rescuees safe before continuing on his journey. Really, he didn't need to stay; the odds of the subjects escaping their restraints before help arrived were nil, plus he'd be breaking the Statute even worse than he already had, but he was still a cop. To just leave grated; it felt wrong on too many levels.
Shouts. Running footsteps. Greg eased back, mentally smiling as several people, all of them armed, emerged from the woods. The astonishment and relief – he knew without asking that he'd been right. They'd been after the serial killers, desperately hoping they could save the latest victims before it was too late. Some of them spotted him and went for their weapons, only for all three of his rescuees to jump between him and the new arrivals.
"No!" 'his' human cried. "He saved us!"
The shorter subject tensed and Greg moved. The subject squalled in fear, freezing in place with Parker's talons fully extended and only centimeters from his throat. Don't you move a muscle, Greg thought at the man, every inch a SWAT cop in that instant.
One of the new arrivals pulled his sidearm, but didn't point it at the gryphon. Instead, Greg's peripheral vision caught the man's advance forward until he was right by the antagonists. The weapon lifted, aimed squarely at the subject. Feathered tail curling in satisfaction, Parker eased away, withdrawing his talons, though he snorted derision at the subject before swirling away and stalking to 'his' human's side. Once by her side, he looked up, fresh surprise spurting beneath his fur.
For the man pointing his gun at the subject was Special Agent Derek Morgan. And among the officers and park rangers was Special Agent Emily Prentiss.
Author note: Surprise! Stealth crossover (and canon-mangling) for the win. Actually, I didn't mean to mangle Criminal Minds canon quite this much…I could've sworn this episode was after Gideon left, but turns out it's a Season 2 episode ("Open Season").
For those who are confused, when the BAU first appeared in the Magical Flashpoint 'verse, they were from a shadowy world between Criminal Minds Seasons 2 and 3 since both Jason Gideon and David Rossi were on the team at the same time. Gideon left after Season 2 and Rossi came in at the beginning of Season 3. So…I've moved "Open Season" out of Season 2 and also relocated the serial killers from Idaho to Colorado. Oh, well.
On a side note and just to be all official, when I post the next chapter this coming Friday, I'll be moving it from the main Flashpoint archive to the Flashpoint/Criminal Minds archive.