Chapter Nine: Probation and Instinct

Violet and gold glittered more brightly in the small room as husband and wife kept their eyes on each other.

"Oxygen stabilizing at 89. Let's keep an eye on her."

Greg saw it; in the last few seconds, Potter looked up and saw the two SRU cops spiraling down towards him, the two locked together as they fell, boots first. His gun came up, its report loud in the eerie stillness. Glass shattered above Greg's teammates, raining down on them and Potter.

Then they hit, slamming Potter down and rolling him on his side for the cuffs.

A baby's wail rang out, strong and true; both inside and outside the room, the adults slumped in relief while the two younger teens smiled in quiet satisfaction and the oldest teen there gawped in shock and no small amount of awe.

Greg swept in, grabbing the fallen weapon and yanking it with him as he pulled away. "Gun clear," he called.

"Up, up!" Jules ordered as she and Sam dragged Ed's shooter upright.

Parker let his fury and rage glint in his eyes as he glared at the man pinned against the inside of the staircase. As the cuffs tightened on the subject's wrists, the Sergeant reported, "6:54 PM. Subject secure. Good work, Team One."

"Team One, subject secure," Winnie acknowledged. "Copy that. Team Three, status?"

Donna's voice held just a touch of smugness. "Flawless Team Three takedown in the lobby. Cavelle is in custody. Drug Squad is very happy to have their evidence."

"That's good work, Donna," Parker praised.

"Miracle of modern technology," Donna parried. "I spotted Cavelle, called him on his cellular, distracted him with my undercover skank voice and we took him down."

Naturally, Spike couldn't leave that one alone. "Can I hear your undercover skank voice?"

"Someday, Spikey, someday," Donna teased before going back to business. "Okay, I'll see you guys back at the barn."

"Somewhere we gotta be first," Spike returned, glancing back at his boss as he spoke.

"Be there as soon as I can," the Sergeant promised, watching his team go.

Healer Wesley arrived a few minutes after the baby was born, sweeping in with a superior look for Auror Onasi; Lance cocked his head at her expression, confused. Then Auror Onasi smirked and pointed to him; the superior look vanished as the Healer realized she hadn't been called in for an injured child, but rather, an injured Auror.

Lance promptly bestowed his own superior look on the Healer, a glint of devilish glee in his eyes.

Greg stepped inside the briefing room, too drained to feel any more anger at the doctor seated inside. The silver head came up, Toth peering at him for a second. "A time like this, and you choose to come here. Thank you."

"I don't like unfinished business," Greg replied bluntly.

Toth absorbed that, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. "I appreciate that." He looked down, gathering his thoughts, then spoke briskly, "Uh, I'll be fast. To be blunt…I still question your objectivity." Greg cringed at that, but refused to let it show. "But the events of the day and your team's professionalism under intense and extreme personal pressure has not gone unnoticed. I'm clearing them for duty."

The Sergeant didn't relax. Clearing them for duty…that left him out. Even so, he offered a quiet, "Thank you," and waited for the rest.

A tiny smirk touched Toth's face. "Conditionally."

"Conditionally," Greg echoed calmly.

The other rose from his seat, snapping his words out. "You're on probation. Wordsworth needs a full medical ASAP. Scarlatti- decision about his commitment to the team." The doctor paused, studying Parker. "Julianna Callaghan and Sam Braddock- if their relationship crosses the line again, violating the Priority of Life Code, immediate disciplinary measures and reassignment for them and for you."

Greg arched a brow; when he'd caught them the last time, he'd taken the appropriate measures, so why target him specifically?

Toth eyed him, understanding the silent question. "They're in your command, you're responsible," he explained. "I recognize that you have no way to guarantee their relationship won't cross the line again, but it's still your responsibility and your punishment…unless you act before I can in such a situation. Then, and only then, will they face discipline without you joining them."

The scowl that wanted to surface stayed buried as Greg waited for Toth to finish.

"I'll be watching. Every case file, every transcript will be copied to my office. You need to draw the line between being a friend to your team and being their Sergeant."

Ah, now they had a problem. Greg cleared his throat. "Dr. Toth, you're still not cleared under the Official Secrets Act."

"Then all non-classified transcripts will be copied," Toth retorted. "I haven't changed my mind about you, Sergeant. You are still dangerously close to breaking or losing control, but it's obvious to me that I can hardly clear your team and not you, much as I would like to."

"Understood," Parker grated out and backed up a step.

"I do have one question."

The Sergeant paused, examining Toth with his head cocked ever so slightly to the side.

"Who is Dr. Moffet to you, Sergeant? Your reaction to his name earlier was…quite extreme."

Greg considered his response carefully. "Most of the answer is classified, I'm afraid," he began. "However," he added as Toth's disappointment showed, "I can tell you that Dr. Moffet is suspected of interfering in the investigation of the car accident my nephew had. He's specifically suspected of hacking into the database and submitting a report on the behalf of our forensics department; that report led the coroner to issue a death certificate for my nephew even though no body was found in my burned out sedan." The Sergeant stopped, watching Toth's expression. "And that's the least of what we suspect him of doing," Greg finished.

Clark pushed his father's wheelchair up to his father's teammates, a grin on his face. The group swarmed his father and his new baby sister, excited by both the little girl and the sight of his father upright and talking. The lady who'd shown up right after his sister was born hovered, giving the group one last moment before taking his father off to be treated.

The teenager wasn't sure what he thought of everything he'd learned and figured out, wasn't sure what to think of the fact that he still only knew what his uncle's partner called the basics, but he wasn't mad at Lance any more. He reserved the right to get angry again once he got more details, but for now, he wasn't bristling and upset any more. Clark looked up as his father's boss arrived, leaning over and admiring the new baby.

Then the lady doctor, healer, whatever, moved forward, quietly telling the group, "Okay. It's time to go."

"Okay," Clark's father agreed. He looked up at Clark, pain and pride in his eyes. "Okay, buddy, come here." As Clark leaned over, slipping his arms under his sister, his father coached, "Grab her head."

"Okay," Clark replied, starting to straighten.

"Come here," his father said, pulling him down and hugging him fiercely. "Gonna be okay."

Clark straightened as his father was taken away, gazing down at his sister in awe. Sister; he had a sister. He was aware of the adults gathering around him, but his eyes stayed on the little bundle as she opened her eyes and looked up at her big brother.

Wordy walked into his bedroom, dead tired after his very long, no good day. Shelley looked up from her spot on top of the covers. "How is he?"

"The delay in treatment means they had to give him some nasty potion to regrow the nerves in his arm, but he'll be fine in the morning. Just," Wordy grimaced, "Really, really unhappy; he was swearing up a blue streak when we left."

Shelley's eyes widened, then she giggled at the look on her husband's face. After a moment, Wordy laughed too, and the pair laughed until they were breathless. Shelley tugged Wordy down on the bed, asking, "Are you okay with this probation thing?"

"Yeah, it just…means we have to be perfect." Wordy turned away from Shelley as he spoke, ostensibly reaching down to untie his shoes.

"How hard could that be?" Shelley teased, her face falling when Wordy failed to laugh. "What?" Hugging him from behind, she pressed, "Kev…what?"

"It could be hard," he admitted softly, an ache in his voice; he stilled his motions, thinking hard as he glanced at his right hand. "Shel… There's something I have to tell you."

Lou trailed after Spike, making sure Spike knew where he was and even bumping Spike's shoulder as the pair entered the Scarlatti residence. Spike's grim demeanor lightened as Lou shoved him again and he shoved back with a playful scowl. "Knock it off, Lou."

"Make me, Scarlatti."

The playfulness faded as a hacking cough came from farther in the house. Spike's head came around and his shoulders slumped, his hands slipping into his pockets. Lewis moved up beside his friend, standing so close that if Spike had backed up, he would have smacked into Lou's shoulder.

From the far hallway, Spike's mother appeared, wrung out and exhausted. When she saw her son, she hurried to him, ignoring Lou's presence. "What am I gonna do?" she questioned, gazing up at Spike's face.

Spike reached out to his mother, finding the strength to bolster both of their flagging spirits. "It's okay."

"You need to give him peace," she said firmly; over Spike's shoulder, Lou's expression turned incredulous that she would press Spike to quit his job right in front of his teammate.

The bomb tech shook his head, just as firm in his own position.

"Please?" Mrs. Scarlatti pleaded. "Michelangelo, tell him you'll do it."

"I can't."

"Just for a while; he doesn't have long," Mrs. Scarlatti wheedled.

Spike drew in a breath. "You can't just walk away and then walk back when you want." Lou nodded agreement with his friend. "This is my life."

Mrs. Scarlatti stared at her son as if she'd never seen him before. "It's a job."

"Ma!"

Lewis Young felt bad for her; yes, it was a job, but if she couldn't see the family her son had gained…that all of them had gained…he really couldn't feel anything but pity.

In a relatively small apartment, the two men of the family sat in the living room, looking at each other. The younger waited patiently, a knowing gleam in his sapphire eyes. It took close to an hour, but the elder finally spoke. "I can't do this, mio nipote. I can't do my job if I have to fight myself every step of the way."

"What happened?" Lance questioned, leaning forward. "What changed today?"

Greg raked his hands over his head and through what was left of his hair. "I don't know. I've been wracking my brains and I can't figure out what happened. I just know it did." He looked down at the ground. "It…it must've been when Eddie got shot."

"Wrong."

Greg's head snapped up. "What?"

His nephew's eyes glittered and then he growled, low in his chest. Greg's eyes widened as an automatic response growl came from his own chest. Inside, the brand-new instincts he'd been fighting against surged, upset at the young upstart's challenge. Hazel eyes narrowed as the growl rumbled louder, then Lance tilted his head to the side, exposing his throat with a soft conciliatory whine. Just like that, the instincts receded, satisfied that there was no further challenge from the young man. Greg was left shaken at how easily his nephew had goaded and manipulated his instinctual responses; he stared at Lance, silently demanding answers.

"Did you think it was just hearing, vision, and that sixth sense of yours?" Lance asked, cocking his head further to the side. "No, Uncle Greg, it's always been more than that, but the instincts took this long to manifest because, despite everything else, you're still Squib-born."

"I didn't have enough magic," Greg breathed. "So what changed?"

"You got used to what you already had, more efficient at using the traits that came out first," Lance explained quietly. The teen propped his chin on his hands. "You'll get used to this stuff too, I promise. Today was really bad because its new and you're not used to dealing with animal instincts, plus," the teen flashed a sardonic grin, "We gryphons really don't like it when 'one of our own' gets hurt."

"That, mio nipote, is a severe understatement," Greg grumbled. "So I just have to wait it out and…" he hesitated, "…get used to it?"

"I can teach you a few tricks I use," Lance offered. "But, yeah, for the most part, you have to wait it out."

"Any future surprises?" Like say, actually transforming?

Lance considered that. "Maybe. I don't know any way of finding out, sorry." Shrewd blue eyes regarded the nervous Sergeant, catching his unspoken worry. "I don't think you have enough magic to actually shift, though. Eyes, teeth, maybe claws, that's about it."

"Wonderful," Greg drawled sarcastically.

Sapphire dropped away and Greg cringed; his nephew was still hurting, still far quick to accept the blame for things that went wrong.

Greg got up from his chair and dropped down next to his nephew, one arm going around his nipote's shoulders and pulling him close. "Hey, listen, I'm not mad at you. I got myself into this mess, remember?" He shook the teen's shoulders. "You're gonna help me figure this out and we'll figure out how to help you and your sister magic-side, okay?"

Lance nodded, but didn't look up.

"Okay, mio nipote, first things first. We're going to go to bed and tackle this in the morning, and when we do, I got one more thing for you to think about."

The brown head came up and cocked to the side.

"We need a Healer who's got a tech-side medical degree. Sooner the better."

It took a moment, but the slim shoulders straightened to the task. "Copy that, Uncle Greg."

~ Fin

Author note: Okay, I figure a couple people might be wondering why I downplayed Sam and Jules' relationship big time in this story and even skipped several of their scenes from Personal Effects.

First off, I'm not going to go against canon, which means, yes, there is JAM and it will stay, regardless of anything else. I suppose I could be considered a bit anti-JAM, but I do have my reasons. Though we all hate Dr. Toth for attacking our favorite team, he, to be perfectly blunt, is right. Sam and Jules are in defiance of SRU policy and they are putting their teammates at risk.

Truth be told, I was never very impressed that they were never punished for their actions. Not to mention, they restarted their relationship right after they were called on the carpet by Toth with no care or regard for the fact that, if they were caught, it wasn't just them on the hook – it was their Sergeant, too. Now, I doubt Parker told his team about Toth's ultimatum, but neither Sam nor Jules can plead ignorance in my book: they had to have known Parker would be faulted just as much as, if not more than, them.

That's all I intend to say on the subject, but I'm sure my opinion will come through loud and clear in my stories. I know many Flashpoint fans are ardent JAM lovers, but I hope ya'll can deal with my somewhat dissenting view in favor of (I think) a good story/series.

On a happier note, we are officially in Season Four territory. And following closely on the heels of this story, "Researching the Solution" will kick off January 22nd, 2019, in the Flashpoint/Harry Potter crossover archive.

See you on the battlefield! (Sorry, the Zoids: Chaotic Century fan in me just had to peek out.)