Chapter One: Broken Family

Author note: This story is the seventy-first in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Freedom to Choose".

Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.

Previously

"You set it all up?"

"It's ready."

"We could talk to him."

"He already bought her a ring. Plus that necklace you spotted and the bracelet."

"She hasn't moved in yet."

"Yet."

"What about the others?"

"They're still mad at him. I don't know what he said to them, but he hasn't gone on any hot calls since then; I asked Winnie."

"Even if they talk to him, it doesn't change a thing. He loves her, Alanna, and she loves him. Like Mom and Dad loved each other. We can't compete with that; we never could." Lance stopped for an instant and his voice finally cracked. "At least…at least this is on our terms." A tear slipped down and he wiped it away. "I know we helped Uncle Lou and Uncle Wordy, sis, but in the end, we destroyed them. All of them."

"We both know Uncle Greg loves you, Miss Marina. It's only a matter of time until, well…" Lance looked down, shoulders hunching. Drawing in a deep breath, he brought his head back up. "If we keep going like we have been, we're going to hurt him, Miss Marina."

She nodded, studying him without comment.

"So I came up with an idea." No turning back now. "I can give you what you want. You can have Uncle Greg and Dean all to yourself, without me or my sister in the way."

"He knows we don't like you and he knows you don't like us," Lance explained. "You haven't told him about what you gave us, have you?"

Almost against her will, Miss Marina breathed, "No, I haven't."

Teary-eyed, he nodded. "If you tell him what you want for us, he'll have to make a choice, Miss Marina. And neither one of you will like it." A single tear escaped. "He deserves a family, Miss Marina. A real family, not just two little orphans who got shoved in his front door at 3 AM." Anguish rang. "You can give him that, Miss Marina, but you gotta choose. Are you gonna accept us, too, or would you rather just have him?"

Emotionless, Miss Marina studied him. "If what you're telling me is true, you're on the cusp of having everything you want. Why give all of that up?"

Numbness surrounded him, but he pushed the words out. "If you love them, let them go," he whispered.

The blonde snorted, drawing back as if he'd slapped her. "You've never loved anything besides yourself in your entire life," she snapped, rising to her feet. "How do I do it?"

For a long moment, Miss Marina studied the card, then she lifted her head, spitting out each word. "Mín ġeþanc wíere."

Power hummed and Lance felt the ritual activate; even without magic of her own, Miss Marina shivered at the sudden shift in the air. Drawing in a deep breath, the young pureblood lord threw his shoulders back, plastering confidence he didn't feel in place. "So. That's it. As far as Uncle Greg is concerned, my sister and I never existed."

Gathering himself, Greg pulled out a small box and stood so he could move to be in front of Marina's chair. Kneeling, he gazed up at her, summoning up every ounce of his courage. "Marina, I know we met at a low point," she laughed, a sob mixed in, "but I've never had cause to regret our meeting." Flipping the box open, he lifted it, revealing the simple white-gold band with diamonds arranged into a flower with a curved leaf on either side. "Marina, will you marry me?"

Her head whipped up and around as soon as leaves crunched underfoot, staring up at him with wide, tear-stained violet eyes. Disbelief and hope so impossible it was painful. Her lips moved, forming words, though he could only hear the second. His name? As he reached the teenager, he crouched down to talk face-to-face. "Hi there."

The redhead's expression crumpled, but she gamely replied, "Hi."

"Kinda late to be out all by yourself, isn't it?"

Tentative, she nodded.

"I'm sure your parents are already worried about you, sweetheart."

She shook her head, tears budding. "They're dead."

Greg cringed at his inadvertent faux pas. "Sorry to hear that."

Red hair frothed as she looked down, sniffling anew.

"Did you run away from home?"

Again she shook her head. "Can't," she whispered.

"Can't what, sweetie?"

Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. "Can't go home."

Gentle, he coaxed, "Could you tell me why not?"

Curling in on herself, the girl shifted back towards the bench, trying to shut him out of her grief. The renewed sobs sent daggers through his heart and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms. She wasn't his daughter, wasn't related to him at all; he had no right to comfort her. Yet his soul keened and he found himself reaching out anyway, resting a hand on her shoulder. Violet snapped back, a single droplet flying as she stared at him, torn by grief he couldn't comprehend.

"You can't stay out here forever," he chided. "How's this sound; you tell me your name and we'll get out of here, get you all warmed up, and then we'll figure out how to get you home. Does that sound good, sweetheart?"

Her eyes widened for an instant, right before her face fell, utterly crushed, though by what, he had no idea. Drawing breath, she focused on him, longing and heartfelt plea lacing every word. "It's me, Uncle Greg. It's Alanna."

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.

"Besides you and your sister, was anything else affected?"

"No." At the pointed brow hike, Lance swallowed hard. "Made sure. Just us."

"Just you." Uncle Greg shook his head, looking away and when he spoke again, his voice broke. "Why? I read your letter, but I still don't understand. Why would you ever think Marina was more important to me than you or your sister?"

"Because she is," Lance rasped. "She means everything to you, sir. You rely on her and she relies on you. When she hurts, you hurt. Even when she's not there, you smile when someone mentions her. You get angry if anyone talks bad about her." His vision was getting blurry, but he sought to focus on his uncle. "If you lost her, you'd lose a piece of yourself."

"And losing you would be any different?"

Of course it was. He couldn't help the sniffle. "You got along without us before, sir."

"I got along without Marina before, too."

His chin ducked. "When the heart finds its completion, it doesn't function alone ever again."

"So. Having decided that the two of you were expendable and Marina was indispensible, you decided to give me the perfect life. Without ever asking me what I thought of your grand scheme, I might add."

"I knew you'd say no."

"But you knew better." Sarcasm rang, with hurt and anger lurking beneath. "You decided you knew what was best for me and you were so sure you were right that you wouldn't even give me any say whatsoever in your grand plan for my life."

He meant to apologize, meant to grovel, but when he opened his mouth, something else entirely slipped out. "Isn't that what you did? You left and you made us think you were drinking yourself to death. But that wasn't true, was it?"

"If Castor Troy had found out about you two, he never would've let you live," Uncle Greg hissed. "If he'd caught onto how much I care about my team, he would've slaughtered every last one them. And their families. And the two of you. Just to get to me."

"But we didn't know!" Lance burst out. "You left and you lied to us! We could've kept the secret, but you wouldn't even give us the chance."

"There was a gag order."

"So what? I was just following orders? Is that really your excuse for leaving us behind?" Fresh tears were falling and Lance forced himself to roll over, ignoring the scream from his ribs. "You know what? I wish you'd never found us again. I wish the ritual had never broken and you were still clueless. I wish you'd stop pretending to care. Sir. So why don't you just say it. You hate me, just like 'Lanna does. Just like she does."

"Lance, I don't."

He snorted. "Oh, now you're gonna lie again? Face it, sir. You came home for Miss Marina, not us. We were just convenient to keep around until Miss Marina moves in and now you're mad 'cause I wanted to leave on our terms, not hers."

A hand touched his back. "Lance, I love you. Both of you. That will never change."

The boy's chin tucked into his chest. "Let's say I believe you, sir. You love her more and you always will. Miss Marina can't stand us and sooner or later, you won't be able to stand us either. The only thing I did was speed it up. If you really loved us, you would've stood up to her. But you didn't, so I did something and now you're mad at me about it. Big deal; you'll see. Soon as she brings the hammer down, we'll be right back where you found us. Only now the neighbors will know we're related to a cop."

"Do you really think I'm going to allow any member of my family to live in that rattrap of an apartment?" Uncle Greg demanded.

"No. But we're not your family, are we?" With that, Lance curled in himself again, ignoring the pain from his broken ribs. It wasn't anywhere near as painful as the loss of his whole world.

Now

Greg waited until he'd gotten Alanna safely back in her room and helped her put fresh sheets on her bed before he headed out to the living room in his apartment and dropped into his chair. He was utterly wrung out, but far worse was the agony in his heart. Over and over his mind replayed his conversation with Lance. Conversation. Hah! More like being burned alive. Roasted from the inside out, inch by inch, as his nephew lashed out and voiced the heartfelt conviction that he was less important, less valuable. Expendable and hated. No longer a member of Greg's family or even his sister's.

His body begged for rest, but his mind was too chaotic for anything more than tossing and turning. Grief surrounded him at the thought of trying to rebuild what he'd destroyed with careless words and thoughtless actions. He hadn't just destroyed his relationship with his kids, he'd obliterated their faith in themselves. For if he could turn on them so quickly – he who was the closest thing they had to a father – then were they really worth anything? Faith was gone. Trust was gone. Family was gone. And he'd done most of the damage himself.

With a heavy sigh, Greg forced himself back to his feet and located his nephew's backpack. Hefting it up, he moved it to the couch and opened the top, inspecting the contents. The first item that caught his eye was a miniaturized trunk, wedged between the outer fabric and a notebook. Huh. That explained the thump from when he'd put the backpack in his SUV. Reaching in, he pulled the paperback sized trunk out and moved to set it down close to his coffee table, but not so close that it would push the table aside as it grew. Frowning, Parker gently tapped the family crest, relieved when that did the trick. The lock, however, refused to budge when he tried to open it.

Summoning up his magic, Greg pushed at the lock again. Usually, he wouldn't have, loathe to violate his nephew's privacy. But he wanted a good look at that apartment lease before he talked with Lance again. His heart keened at the thought of the acid his nephew might well hurl at him, but there were far too many unanswered questions. Given his nipotes' current attitude, he could well believe they'd run, but the spell made no sense at all. Not to him – his kids knew how he and the rest of the SRU felt about Obliviations and other memory-altering spells. So why had Lance done it? Why risk burning bridges they might well need? If they'd simply run without the spell, of course he would've gone after them, but they had more than enough resources to disappear. The spell had not only ensured they'd have no one to turn to if things went wrong, it carried the very great risk of permanently alienating those they cared about. Beneath the hurt, self-recrimination, and heart-break, he was angry. Furious that his memories had been warped against his will and beyond his control. And if he was angry, the rest of the SRU was liable to be enraged and in no mood to listen to any pleas he might make on Lancelot's behalf.

So he needed answers, the sooner the better. Power thrummed under his skin and the lock clicked open. To his bemusement, the very top item was a neat stack of papers that proved to be the lease once he inspected it. As soon as he pulled the papers free from the trunk, the lid clicked shut, the lock sliding back into place. Greg eyed the trunk, then shook his head. Sometimes, magic could be extremely odd.

Lease in hand, Greg returned to the backpack, browsing through the notebooks until he found one that was puffed up more than the others, pages slightly bent from use. Tugging it out, Parker flipped open the notebook, scanning the writing. He spied his name as well as Wordy and Spike's on one page; with a nod to himself, Greg closed the notebook and set both the papers and the notebook down on the coffee table. Turning, he went back to the trunk long enough to shrink it back down, then put the miniature trunk back in his nephew's backpack. He left the bag on his couch and detoured to the kitchen for a cup of strong coffee. Although he was too agitated for sleep, Greg knew he'd need caffeine to comprehend anything he read.

What a mess. If Greg ever found out who had recommended his nephew sign this utter farce of a lease, he was going to hang them from the nearest streetlamp by their ankles. And then he was going to call Anthony and ask the mobster for a little favor vis-à-vis the pond scum who'd put his nipotes in danger. For rent like this, his nipotes should've been staying at the Ritz, getting served caviar with every meal and having their laundry done by a fleet of hotel maids. The term was outrageous too – a thirty-six month lease? With substantial increases already written in for every six months? The term and the increases were hidden too; he'd had to cross-reference five different sections of the lease in order to cut through the poorly spelled legalese. The spelling alone had to be a felony, not to mention the coy way the lease implied it was a regular twelve month term only to cite two different subsections, each one tacking an additional twelve months onto the original term. The rent and its increases comprised the other three cross-references. And he wasn't even getting started on the required notice: One hundred and eighty days, which essentially meant his nipotes had to give notice six months before they wanted to move out.

Outrageous. And probably illegal, though Greg couldn't be completely sure without consulting a lawyer. Leaning back, the officer inspected his own notebook – as soon as he'd realized how deliberately confusing the lease was, he'd started taking notes. Satisfied with what he'd gotten from the lease, he flipped to a fresh page, stacked the lease papers back together, and pulled his nephew's notebook closer.

He opened up the notebook and started in, sipping at his coffee as he went. The first part of the notebook meandered, debating various approaches and options, but none of them were magical in nature. Rather it appeared as if his nephew had started off with plots to build trust with Marina, then moved onto ways Lance could approach him. Guilt flickered as the notebook documented the outcomes of those attempts, none of them successful. But if Lance had been trying to resolve the situation with words, what had prompted him to switch to magic as a solution? It wasn't like his nephew to pull a trick like this.

Past the last of the plots – another unsuccessful attempt to approach him – Greg found a rather cryptic section of text. Names weren't mentioned, nor specifics, but it appeared that Lance had sought out advice from someone as to how to handle the situation and been…unsatisfied…with the response. The response itself was not recorded, yet Parker could make a few guesses as his nephew embarked on an argument with that advice, swapping sides at a dizzying pace. Judging by the text, more consulting sessions had ensued, each one chipping away at his nephew's confidence in his ability to resolve the issue of Marina. The caginess remained, but the reader could tell that Lance had refused for some time to even consider the more extreme advice he was getting. There were no dates, so Greg couldn't tell exactly when the resistance had finally faltered, but once it did crack, the rest was all downhill, ending with the resolution that had brought them all to this current crisis.

Sick at heart, Greg closed the notebook rather than continue. Turning in the kitchen chair, he hunched over and buried his face in his hands, letting the grief flow down his cheeks. Time after time, attempt after attempt, and he'd ignored it all. In the depths of his own emotional upheaval, he had turned his nipotes aside, believing it would be better if they learned not to rely on their treacherous uncle. Well, he'd sure gotten what he'd asked for, hadn't he? And now his family was in ruins, broken in twain and shattered beyond repair.

"Dad?"

Parker dragged his head up, blinking at his son rather blearily. He wasn't sure what time it was, but seeing as he'd scarcely slept over the past two, almost three days, even caffeine was fast losing its ability to keep him upright.

"You okay?"

"No." He didn't even have to think about his response. Exhausted, Greg rubbed at his eyes, deciding to finally call it quits and head for bed. He could come back and read more of Lance's notebook diary later. Then another problem presented itself and he stilled in the middle of gathering up what energy he had left to stand. "Did your room change?"

Dean blinked in surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Hazel gazed upwards. "And do you remember who usually shares your room?"

His son's mouth opened, already forming the word 'Clark' before he paused. Brown eyes widened in shock, then betrayal. "You knew."

The last thing he needed was more complications. Greg shook his head. "No. Not until last night." A pause. "Or early this morning." Again he rubbed at his eyes. "Alanna's back in her room. Lance is in St. Mungo's with a couple of cracked and broken ribs. I am going to bed and if you've got more questions, you can wait till 'Lanna gets up."

Dean's eyes widened with each sentence. "What happened?"

Parker forced himself upright, swaying with exhaustion, but answered nonetheless. "Your cousins decided we were better off without them. Marina agreed with them." Emphatically. "Then their new neighbor took a shine to 'Lanna and tried to force the issue. She came running for me and Lance probably tried to protect her." His son's jaw worked in soundless horror, but Greg truly had nothing left to give. It was taking everything he had to stay upright and his feet were aching like they hadn't since he'd been cleared to wear sneakers. So he limped past Dean and headed for his bedroom. He was aware of his son following him, but turned and shook his head before vanishing inside and closing the door behind him. Sheer willpower gave him the strength to change into nightwear before he crawled into bed and let the exhaustion drag him down.

By the time he crept out of his room, it was night again. Late night if the clock was to be believed. With a yawn, Greg headed for the kitchen, still in his sleepwear. Not long after his nipotes had first moved in, he'd ensured he would be decent at all times, even in his nightwear. Particularly since his kids came from a very old-fashioned world and he'd been doing his best to start building trust. Even after he'd built up that trust, he hadn't changed his nighttime habits; by then he'd been used to the new routine and disinclined to change anything.

Now he was grateful for the decision. He already had to start all over on regaining his nipotes' trust and even the small stuff would help. Heart and soul ached at the monumental task ahead of him, yet he knew he wouldn't back down from it. His kids were worth it, they always would be. Eventually, he knew, he'd have to deal with Marina and their relationship, but for right now, his focus had to be on his nipotes. It was simpler this way. Easier, too; he didn't need to juggle three relationships or the antagonism or the inevitable one-upmanship that was sure to ensue as soon as he brought Marina back into the mix.

Inside the kitchen, Greg's stride halted at the sight of Alanna sitting at their center island. There wasn't room for a kitchen table in their apartment and the island wasn't exactly suitable either since it also housed the sink and dishwasher, but they made do. The redhead looked up from her plate – a healthy serving of fresh fruit – and cringed back. "I can go."

"No, mia nipote, you're okay," Greg replied, moving to the 'fridge to find something to eat himself. He eyed the options, then snagged a container with leftover pizza. Meat Lover's of course, though Marina had been rather shocked at how much both he and Dean could put away. She'd also been surprised by the pizza he'd ordered for her – Canadian bacon and pineapple – but had enjoyed it. Looking back, Greg suspected that had been his subconscious memories reaching out past the magical barrier and felt a little better. Yes, Lance's spell had affected him, too, but his own magic had been fighting against it from the very start. Perhaps it might've even won in time, though he was grateful he'd never know. Who knew how long that could've taken or how much damage would've been done in the meantime.

The stocky man retrieved a plate and dumped two slices onto it. He returned the container to the refrigerator, determined to keep his meal light. Better if he went back to bed and got his sleep cycle back on track. Turning back to his plate, he was about to go for the plastic lids they used for the microwave when one floated right to him. He plucked it out of midair and put both plate and cover in the microwave before speaking. "Careful there, Alanna."

His niece shrugged. "The first week, our oven blew up. Lance kept anything else from getting damaged."

Both brows shot up and Greg twisted away from the microwave. "Your oven blew up?" Horror rang.

Alanna sighed, nudging food around her plate with her fork. "Yeah. I was trying to cook with it and I guess it wasn't up to it. Lance had a headache afterwards, but nothing else got ruined." A shrug. "So technology's not quite as sensitive as we thought."

"Or your brother had a headache from keeping his magic under tight control," Greg countered.

The redhead shrugged again, her gaze dropping to her plate. "Lance is back in his and Dean's room; the Healers fixed him right up, but they said he should take it easy for a couple days."

"Copy that, mia nipote; I'm sorry I didn't go to the hospital with you guys."

"Dean said you were limping and looked like you needed the rest. It was okay."

"Anyone call my cell phone?" Greg asked as the microwave beeped and he turned around to retrieve his meal.

"I didn't hear it go off, but I'm not sure if you put it on vibrate," Alanna replied, her tone uncertain.

"I didn't," Greg reassured her. He put his plate on the island a bit away from the sink, eyed the misty plastic lid, then shrugged and put it in the drainer to dry off. Leaving the pizza to cool, he shifted back to his niece. "Everything like you left it in your room?"

The redhead didn't look up. "We took everything with us," she admitted. "It's all in my trunks, though. I didn't really unpack in our new place."

He'd been afraid of that. Gentle, Greg reached across, tipping her chin up and swallowing down his distress at the fearful expression on her face. "Hey. I'm not going to sugarcoat it and pretend I'm okay with what your brother did, but that does not mean I love either of you any less than I did before." He paused, studying her face. "I screwed up and I owe you two a mountain of apologies, but I love you every bit as much as I love Dean. There is no comparison between you and Dean; I love all three of you more than you can imagine."

Her expression crumpled. "Then why? Why didn't you ever say anything to her?"

The stocky man swallowed hard. "Sweetheart, anything I say now will sound like an excuse. Are you sure you want that?"

"It would be an answer," she countered.

True enough. Greg pulled his hand back, staring down at his plate. Buying time, he scooped up his first piece and bit down, savoring the taste of meat and ignoring the way it soured as it went down his throat. He ate the whole slice before looking up again. "How much did I ever tell you two about the hot call when I met her?"

Alanna frowned uncertainly. "You said your team saved her." She paused, thinking hard. "And it was Valentine's Day when it happened, so she, um, fixated on you."

"Almost, not quite," Greg corrected. "The first call we received that day was a 911 from a man inside her business. He told us a former coworker had come in with a gun and was looking for Marina." He stopped, the call replaying in his mind. "He was on the phone with me when he was shot dead."

Alanna gasped, violet recoiling in distress.

"We didn't know until afterwards, but at that point, there were three people left on that floor. The gunman, Marina, and one of her employees."

His niece nodded, uncertain as she waited for the rest.

"The other employee called 911 and she was routed to me; I talked to her until she hung up."

"Why did she hang up?" Alanna asked.

Parker rubbed his hair. "There are any number of reasons she could've done it, sweetheart. I didn't dare call her back for fear of exposing her position to the gunman."

"Did he find her?"

The officer sighed and nodded unhappily. "He did, but he didn't shoot her. As my team made entry, we got a third 911 call from that floor."

"Marina."

"Yes. I didn't know at first, but Marina had a Bluetooth headset connected to her phone. A small one, easy to hide under her hair."

"So she was on the phone with you the whole time?"

Another nod. "I wanted her to stay down, but she was worried about her employee, especially after I told her that her other employee was dead."

Alanna considered, nibbling on a lock of hair. "How come that guy was looking for her?"

"Marina informed me that he had worked under her, but developed a crush on her. One that escalated until she became concerned about the way he was stalking her. At that point, she let him go and she thought that would be the end of it."

"It wasn't," Alanna concluded.

Parker shook his head. "No. He came to believe that his former coworkers had been trying to keep himself and Marina apart; that's part of why he shot our first caller." He hesitated, then sighed, rubbed his head, and admitted, "Marina was able to convince him to let her other employee go, but then he pulled out a ring and proposed to her on the spot."

Alanna's eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped.

"Marina tried to deflect, but once he realized she wasn't going to accept him, his weapon came up."

"And you guys had to stop him," Alanna whispered.

Greg nodded. "She was so close to him that when Ed fired, blood spatter got on her. I pulled her away, but not before she looked back and saw the body."

The teen flinched, her gaze dropping to her plate. "And after that, she was interested in you, but at first you said no 'cause of transference."

"I did," Parker agreed. "Morgana's little stunt took out our original deal and also set the two of you up for the mother of all bad first impressions."

"But you never said anything because of the hot call?" Alanna ventured.

Ashamed, Greg swallowed hard, hazel falling to the granite countertop. "Emotionally, Marina is much better now, but you're right. For awhile there, she was so broken up, she was practically using me as her therapist. And I suppose I treated her like she was too fragile to be challenged, even when I should have." A lump emerged. "By the time she was past being fragile, her opinion of you and behavior towards you had been set, but that's no excuse for my inaction. The two of you should've been my priority, not my girlfriend."

"But when do you get a life?" Alanna asked suddenly. "It's not fair for us to be all you've got, Uncle Greg."

Surprised, his head came up. "I do have more than you guys," he protested.

Violet rolled. "Sure. You've got us and the job. That's a ton of outlets, Uncle Greg."

Parker opened his mouth, then stopped. Darn it, she was right. Aside from Marina, all his friends and family came under two categories. Kids and job. Was that why a part of him had fought so fiercely against bringing his girlfriend to task? Then he shook his head. "Alanna, yes, you're right, but at the same time, if Marina really loves me, she shouldn't be trying to separate me from my own family."

"What if she doesn't see us as your family? She gets along with Dean just fine."

"I know," Greg replied, tone quiet. "I also know she told your brother that he's never loved anyone in his life." Anger filtered into his gaze. "That was uncalled for and completely out of line so far as I'm concerned." He shook his head. "Alanna, for now, Marina will not be a part of our lives. I will have to deal with her at some point, but right now…" He faltered, then forged on. "Right now, I have two kids who think I don't love them." She flinched back, confirming his suspicions. "Right now, kiddo, my priority is to make sure neither of you doubt my love ever again. No matter how long it takes." When Alanna looked down and bit her lip, Greg reached across and tipped her chin back up. "We are a family, Alanna Victoria Calvin, and I may have screwed up, but I never stopped loving either of you. And I never will." He paused, studying her eyes. "I know you don't believe me, but it's true."

Gingerly, she reached up, curling her smaller fingers around his larger hand. He adjusted, slipping his hand into hers to grip. And in the depths of violet, he saw hope reignite.

On Saturday, Greg crawled out of bed and checked his clock, groaning internally at the time. Late morning; he must've been more sleep-deprived than he'd thought. Or maybe he was just getting old. Grumbling, he stretched, feeling the crackle and pop of joints in the morning stillness. Then he retrieved a fresh change of clothes and angled for the shower. A little hot water and uninterrupted time to think would be very welcome.

By the time he was done with his shower, he had a tentative plan. He wasn't sure if it was a good plan or not, but if needed, he could readjust on the fly. If he was lucky, Lance would be feeling well enough for a discussion – and his nephew would probably expect the spell or ritual or whatever it was called to be the topic. Instead, Greg was going to start with the lease. If he could show Lance where he'd gone wrong, he could hopefully start rebuilding trust as well as get the young man's thoughts on how to get out from under that utter farce. While Parker knew he could do it for his nephew, it would be better to keep Lance involved and interested. Once he'd rebuilt that first crucial bridge of trust, he could shore up the foundation with an open discussion on the ritual itself, assuming his nephew had enough energy for that.

Plan in mind, the stocky officer strode into his kitchen for breakfast and blinked at a sight that almost perfectly echoed what he'd found the night before, save that it was Lance rather than Alanna. Lance was having meat instead of the fruit his sister preferred and… Greg fought back a frown at how little food was on his nephew's plate. Not nearly enough for any growing teenager, much less a gryphon Animagus. The sapphire that gazed down at a small trio of sausages was dull and despite the fact that he'd heard his uncle coming, Lance hardly even twitched.

"I hope that's the last of your meal and not the sum total," Parker remarked in lieu of a greeting.

"I'm fine," Lance mumbled without glancing up.

"Lancelot." Greg waited for the brunet head to rise. "I wouldn't believe that from Eddie; I don't believe it from you." He tapped the plate. "There's plenty in the 'fridge, kiddo. Why stint yourself?"

"I said I'm fine."

Shaking his head, Greg turned away and opened up the 'fridge. Locating the pizza container, he pulled it out and retrieved one of their larger plates. Quick, efficient movements drained the last four pieces from the container and Parker didn't even bother with a plastic lid before he popped the whole thing in the microwave. While the pizza heated, Greg put the container and its lid in the dishwasher, making a mental note to run the dishwasher once he and Lance had finished eating.

When the microwave beeped at him, Greg pulled the plate out and turned to the kitchen island, careful to set the dish down gently. Lance was already defensive and on edge; the least bit of anger would either send him running or cause an emotional shutdown. Still, his nephew needed more than three sausages, so Parker edged his plate in closer and slid two slices of Meat Lover's pizza onto the smaller plate.

Sapphire rose, defiance and bewilderment mixing. "I told you, I'm just fine."

One eyebrow rose, unimpressed with the tantrum. "Three sausages wouldn't feed a fox, much less a gryphon, mio nipote. Be grateful I'm not making you eat all four because don't think I haven't noticed you've lost weight, kiddo."

The teenager bristled, but lost his chance to argue back as his uncle busied himself with his own meal. Once he'd eaten his own slices, Greg went back and located the homemade lasagna he'd made the week before for himself, Marina, and Dean. Pushing away the twinge of guilt at the memory, he slid the pasta out and cut two equal pieces. Once again, his plate went into the microwave while he tucked the rest of the lasagna back in its hiding place.

Lance stiffened as one piece of the lasagna migrated to his own plate, but swallowed down any argument. While hopeful, Greg knew he couldn't count that as progress. Not yet. It was a beginning, but he still had a very tough row to hoe if he was going to earn his nephew's trust back. Alanna's temper tended to be more explosive than her brother, erupting in little fits, but ultimately, once she'd calmed down, she was quick to forgive. Lance's temper was more like his own – long simmering and difficult to provoke, but once it did boil over, he wasn't shy about demanding explanations and recompense before parting with any trust or forgiveness.

Frankly, Parker wished it was just the temper he had to worry about, but he knew their larger problem was the spell or ritual or whatever it was called. Lance was keenly aware of his role in hurting those he cared about; when added to his temper, the guilt had the potential to reject anything Greg might try. Even if he got past his nephew's anger, he risked running right into the shame skimming just below the surface.

Once they'd both finished eating, Lance passed over his plate without complaint while his uncle ran the sink, pushing it to the max temperature while he loaded the dishwasher and locked the door. When the water was sufficiently hot, he started the dishwasher and turned the faucet off. Finished with that chore, Greg moved to the nearby counter where someone had stacked Lance's notebook and the lease and brought both back to the kitchen island. Wary sapphire regarded him, but his nephew remained in his chair, sensing an imminent discussion.

About to start in on the lease, a sudden thought occurred to the stocky man and he frowned. It took a few seconds to word his question, then he asked, "Lance? Is there a reason I had to remind Dean that he usually shares his room with you?"

Sapphire widened, then Lance cocked his head to the side, thinking over the inquiry. "When was this?"

"After 'Lanna and I got home that night. Or maybe it was morning," Greg replied, rubbing his bald palate. "She was in bed, but I was still up."

Lance's gaze dropped to the granite countertop and he drummed his fingers as he considered. "Well… I guess you probably already figured out the ritual is kinda like what Morgana did."

Parker nodded. "Once I made the connection, it was easier to accept what your sister was telling me," he admitted.

The brunet cringed, but kept going. "I was trying to be more subtle about it," he confessed. "A lot more of the magic went into…hiding…the truth rather than twisting it. I mean, I came up with other ways that things could've happened without us there, but there were too many memories for that, so…"

"We didn't lose the memories, we just didn't think about them?" Greg ventured.

A nod. "Close enough." The young man shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure I ever worked out an exact definition for what the ritual did, but what you're describing would fit. The ritual broke, but Dean hadn't thought about us, so he didn't actively remember the truth."

"But as soon as I reminded him, the memories were there," Parker filled in. "Will that be the case for everyone?"

"I don't know." Lance slumped down. "But just so you know, the ritual didn't affect Miss Marina at all."

Greg had suspected as much, but it was nice to have confirmation. "Marina is not at issue right now," he said firmly. "I don't know if you talked to your sister while I was still sleeping, but my focus is on the two of you. Marina can darn well wait until I'm good and ready."

"And if she calls you?"

About to respond that she shouldn't, the stocky man paused as his phone rang. Sighing, Greg retrieved it from his counter, absently hoping he didn't have to go into work. Then the name on the caller ID registered and he snorted, thumbing the power button to silence the call. Talk about speaking of the devil.

"That's her, isn't it?"

Returning to the kitchen island, Greg held his phone up and set it down off to the side. "I asked Commander Holleran to tell her I would contact her at my convenience, not hers."

"But she's your fiancé."

"And she nearly cost me two of the most important people in the world." Anger vibrated. "I heard you, kiddo, and I know a lot of this is on me, but Marina started this by antagonizing both of you and she's the one who refused each and every attempt to apologize."

Lance fidgeted. "We stopped. After awhile, we, um…"

"You fought back." It was not a question. "I figured as much, mio nipote. Sooner or later, if someone refuses to drop their antagonism, it's human nature to resent them and lash out." When his nephew refused to look at him, Greg shook his head and reached out to tip Lance's chin towards him. "Hey, I want you to hear me. You and Alanna are very mature for your age, but you are still minors in the eyes of the law. You still have a lot of growing up to do and that's just how life works. I am an adult, Marina is an adult; we both have our own share of the blame for this mess." He drew in a deep breath. "There are consequences for what you did, mio nipote, but you don't have to face them alone, understand?"

A single tear slipped free. "But I hurt you."

"Yes," Greg agreed. "And you hurt Alanna and Dean and Clark and everyone we consider friends and family. It may take you a long time to regain their trust, but I know you can do it, kiddo." On the table, his phone buzzed with a voice mail, but Greg ignored it in favor of his nephew. "But you know what, Lance? There's one thing you haven't lost and you never, ever will."

"What?"

Slipping around to his nephew's side, Greg pulled him into a hug. Surprised, Lance stiffened, then relaxed into his uncle's hold, clinging back with all his strength. Resting his chin on brunet hair, Greg whispered, "I love you more than you can imagine, mio nipote, and I always will. I know you don't believe me right now, but that's the truth."

Lance crumpled, tension releasing into a storm of tears while Greg simply held the young man in place. But though the ice was broken, Parker was keenly aware that his nephew's frame remained stiff, wary of how quickly the comfort offered could also be withdrawn. Still, it was a fresh beginning. That would have to be enough.