Chapter Six: Sacrificial Love
Commander Norm Holleran waited until his lieutenant and Team One were gone to step out of the shadows. "Kira, send Team Three to Parker's apartment," he ordered.
"Sir?" Kira questioned, surprised by the order.
Grim, the commander explained, "Parker's nephew was home sick today." Once this latest crisis was over, he and his lieutenant were going to have a long talk about why Parker had called Locksley, but not him after getting dosed by a love potion someone had snuck into his apartment. His subordinate's modesty did him credit, but he wasn't a Sergeant any more. An attack on Parker was an attack on the SRU itself and Holleran couldn't help but suspect that whoever had slipped those love potions into his second's apartment had just struck again.
With that in mind, while Kira assembled Team Three, Holleran ducked back into his office to retrieve the spare key for Parker's apartment, then passed the key off to Sergeant Cooper. "Get to Lieutenant Parker's apartment," he ordered. "Check it top to bottom; if you find Parker's nephew, notify Kira immediately."
"Yes, sir," Cooper acknowledged. "Are we expecting trouble?"
The black man nodded once. "Lieutenant Parker and Team One are currently enroute to another address and he requested that Kira track his nephew's cell phone." Stepping closer, he dropped his voice lower. "Over the weekend, an attempt was made to dose Parker with a love potion. Our subject could be making another move."
Grim expressions met the pronouncement. "Yes, sir," the Sergeant replied. "We'll report in as soon as we know more." Glancing over at their dispatcher, he requested, "Kira, once we're moving, send Parker's address to my phone. I think I know where he lives, but let's not take chances."
"Copy that," Kira agreed.
Donna frowned to herself as she kept pace at her Sergeant's back. If she'd been Parker, she would've had the apartment locks changed, but the key Commander Holleran had given them hadn't looked new. She hadn't said anything, though; even if they couldn't get in with the key, she had an excellent set of lockpicks from her undercover days.
At the head of their pack, Cooper halted in front of a plain, unassuming door. He checked the number and nodded to himself. "Okay, team, this is it," he announced, holstering his sidearm so he could open the door. Edging to the side, he glanced back at their team. Weapons rose a hair, ready to be swung all the way up without putting their Sarge in the line of fire.
The raven tried the knob, eyes narrowing when he couldn't open the door. Careful, he slid the key in the lock and turned it slowly. The deadbolt slid backwards, a soft click announcing its complete withdrawal from the doorframe. Cooper turned the knob again, pushing it open and edging back as a precaution, but nothing happened.
Donna traded glances with her Sarge, then lifted one hand, shaping orders to her team. Three groups; they'd split at the door and search the whole apartment. Her teammates nodded acceptance, then they shifted, organizing themselves for a rapid entry. The door was too narrow for two fully geared SRU officers, but once they were past that bottleneck, they'd have more of an advantage.
The team's entry expert took the lead, dark blue eyes narrow as he pushed the door all the way open and advanced, submachine gun up. The air inside the apartment was still, only the background rumble of the climate control breaking the silence. Once inside, the team divided and Donna indicated that her group would head for the kitchen while the other two groups checked the rest of the apartment.
Jimmy stuck with her, breathing a touch harsh as the tension around them seemed to spike, but Donna kept her cool. Unless she missed her guess, love potions were primarily a threat to men, not women. That made her the best choice to investigate the most likely place a subject would leave love potions lying around. When the two officers reached the kitchen, they kept their weapons up as they scanned for trouble, then Donna nodded and gestured for Jimmy to hold his position.
"I can help," he whispered.
"One man downrange," she reminded him. "What goes for bombs should go for love potions, too."
He huffed a laugh. "I don't think love potions explode, Donna."
"Sure they do," Donna countered. "They explode all over your love life." Keying her comm, she added, "Kitchen is clear; I'm gonna check for any possible potions."
"Copy that," Sarge acknowledged. "Living room's clear and so's the master bedroom. Checking the bathroom next."
"The other two bedrooms are clear, but somebody wasn't too happy about leaving the larger bedroom," Tom announced.
"Any blood?" Sarge demanded, his voice overlapping with Donna's careful entry into the kitchen.
Tom grunted. "A little, but doesn't look like the vic got seriously hurt. Maybe a cut lip or a nosebleed."
Her hands clenched tighter around her weapon. Any blood was too much, especially if it came from Lieutenant Parker's nephew. She wasn't clear on the full story behind the events of the past three weeks, but anyone who was stupid enough to go after one of Parker's kids deserved exactly what they got. For Pete's sake, he'd lied to his entire team and gone undercover as an Italian mob boss to keep them safe.
Reaching out, Donna eased the refrigerator door open, blue-gray narrowing. Most of the contents looked like any other 'fridge, although she doubted most people had three big plastic containers stuffed with leftover pizza, but there was a group of bottles on the middle shelf that were just off. They were either water bottles or soda bottles, but she didn't recognize the brand at all. And the liquid inside… If that was soda, she'd turn in her badge and gun on the spot.
Without hesitation, she pushed the door shut again. "Kira, notify the Auror Division. I think our potioneer paid Parker a return visit."
"Copy that," Kira acknowledged.
Then the team leader turned enough to spot a piece of paper on the kitchen island. Frowning, Donna stepped closer and picked up the sheet, mouth pulling into a scowl as she read it. "Kira? Hold on a second. Could you ask Commander Holleran when he got that key from Lieutenant Parker?"
"Didn't it work?" Kira asked, surprised.
"Yeah, it did," Donna confirmed. "But I'm looking at a report from building maintenance. Locks were changed on Saturday."
There was a rustle in the background, then Kira came back on the comm, sounding shaken. "Commander Holleran says Lieutenant Parker gave him that key after he moved in."
Utter silence draped the comm. Then the Sarge drawled, "Anyone want to bet on how long it takes Parker to move out?"
Ed swung up into the driver's seat of the truck he'd gotten out of only minutes earlier, grateful Greg had gone for the passenger side without prompting. Given the Boss's state of mind, letting him drive was a recipe for trouble. He'd either crash or terrify every other driver on the road. In the background, the 'team sense' vibrated and the Sergeant put his truck in gear. "Kira, where're we going?"
He heard a rustle over the comm, then the blonde rapped out the address just as the team hit the road, lights and sirens already going.
Glancing over, Lane asked, "Boss, you wanna let us know what's up?"
The lieutenant shook his head, the movement short and abrupt. "I don't know." Terror rang. "Marina called me on Lance's cell, but she wouldn't tell me anything. Just the address." Hazel turned towards him, haunted. "I demanded she put him on, Eddie. She said she couldn't." A harsh swallow. "If I hadn't been ignoring her…"
"Greg, stop," Ed ordered. "Don't play the 'what-if' game. You were focusing on your kids and that's exactly what you should've done. Now calm down, buddy. He's your kid and that means he's as tough as they come; he's gonna be fine." Inwardly, he wished they'd had time to get the Boss in his gear, but the other man had just run for the trucks and he'd known if they dallied, Greg would just take his SUV and go in without a lick of backup. Focusing back on his best friend, the sniper maintained his calm. "All right, we know Marina is involved and we know she's got Lance's cell phone. Anything else, Boss?"
In the passenger seat, Parker's expression contorted, still too emotionally distraught to offer anything useful. But the Sergeant could see the wheels turning; the farther they went, the louder the engine roared and the siren wailed, the more his boss was getting back in the game. For several minutes, neither man spoke, then hazel cleared and narrowed. "There was someone in the background."
"Close to the phone?"
A single, sharp nod. "Breathing heavily, probably…" For an instant, his expression crumpled, then Greg forced his negotiator mask in place. "…probably injured."
"Okay, we need EMS."
"Negative," Parker countered. "Healers. Lance is still dealing with magical exhaustion and I think he caught the flu over the weekend."
"All right; Kira, let's get the on-scene Healers on standby."
"Address is tech-side, Ed," Kira replied. "No nearby gateways that I can find."
Ed thumped his steering wheel, growling curses under his breath. Without a nearby gateway to retreat to, St. Mungo's wouldn't authorize any on-scene Healers. There was too much of a risk that the Neo Death Eaters would detect any emergency aid and descend in force. None of the Healers would take that risk. Not for a Wild Mage. He hated it, but facts were facts. "Kira, map out a route for us to get from the subject address to St. Mungo's. We'll do the transport ourselves."
"Copy."
Greg didn't wait for his team once they arrived. Instead, he scrambled out of the truck and ran for the building, a rundown warehouse on the waterfront that was probably a prime location for the gangs in the area, but he didn't care. His nephew was inside; he didn't need Kira's confirmation to know that. His magic thrummed in his chest, guiding him without thought towards his own. Behind him, he heard Sam and Spike running to keep up, but even with the speed from their Animagus forms, he had more practice with using his abilities and the motivation to use every last scrap of speed he could muster.
'Sarge, slow down; you don't have a vest,' Wordy panted.
He had a gryphon Animagus form and an injured nephew – anyone trying to stop him was going to find out why you never messed with an enraged parent. His shoulder rammed into the front door, forcing it open with a bang, and Greg kept running. The scent of blood hit his nose, sending terror and fury skyrocketing, but he didn't reach for his gun. Even as he darted through a maze of boxes and scattered equipment, then raced up a metal staircase to the warehouse's second floor, the officer never slowed and never drew his weapon.
Inside a small room that might've been a storage area, he found his targets. Marina was in high-end business clothing, but her hair was in disarray and blood coated her front as she knelt over a still, motionless form. Both hands were pressed firmly against the victim's upper thigh, attempting to stem the blood that flowed from under her palms and through her fingers. Just past where she knelt, an open balisong (2) lay in the pool of blood between her and the door. On her opposite side, Greg spied his nephew's smartphone, but it was the tug of magic in his heart and the victim's blood-tinged brunet locks that confirmed his worst fears.
With a snarl, he lunged, shoving Marina away from his nephew. She fell sideways, crying out in dismay, then looked up at her attacker. Seeing him, her eyes lit up and she opened her mouth, but an enraged, feral growl cut her off. "Don't you touch him," Greg hissed, shoulders hunching as his gryphon instincts surged to the fore. "Don't you ever touch mio nipote again!"
"Greg, please, I'm trying to help," she begged, but he'd already turned his back on her and knelt next to his nephew.
His bigger hands pressed against the thigh injury, applying more pressure than Marina's smaller female frame could, and magic screamed. Terror engulfed him, pushing aside anger as irrelevant in the face of what he could sense. "Eddie! Suppression Potion!"
To a man, Team One swore, but even that was irrelevant.
Hazel turned, meeting his Sergeant's blue for an instant. "Ed." The word was soft, holding all the aching regrets of his heart and his faith that his best friend, his brother by spirit, would understand what he had to do. Then he closed his eyes and let his magic loose. Scarlet roared, surging from his core through his hands to wrap around the fading golden light inside his nephew.
"Word, help the Boss!" Ed snapped, refusing to waste another millisecond. "Don't break them apart, just get the kid up!"
"Ed," Marina pleaded from her spot on the ground; she hadn't moved since Greg had shoved her out of his way.
Rounding on her, Lane's eyes narrowed. "That's Sergeant Lane to you, Miss Levin." Cold, he turned away again. "Jules, stay with her; we'll figure out what the heck is going on once we get to St. Mungo's."
"Copy," Jules agreed, already moving towards Marina. "Let's go," she ordered, reaching down to help the blonde up; her expression was just as coolly furious as her Sergeant.
"No, you have to get Greg away from him," Marina begged, staring at the pair in front of her. Scarlet surrounded them and the Boss's complete focus was on his nephew, no longer even reacting to anything going on around him. It wasn't a time freeze, though; Lance's wound was still spurting blood and they could all hear him rasping as he struggled to breathe. And if Greg wasn't willing to risk a time freeze...
Ed snorted, covering fear with anger. In what universe did Marina think a critically injured teenager could wield magic at all, much less whatever she imagined Lance was doing as he lay there on the ground bleeding out. And by the Lion, a Suppression Potion… Even if the kid survived the blood loss, could he survive the potion? Flicking a glance of pure contempt at his best friend's fiancé, he drawled, "That's Greg's magic."
Dismissing her all over again, the Sergeant waited for Wordy to get into position on Lance's opposite side, then reached down, lightly gripping his lieutenant's shoulders. Outwardly, Greg didn't react, but the 'team sense' pulsed query.
"Greg, Word's gonna pick him up," Ed said aloud. "On three, buddy."
Another pulse indicated agreement.
Locking his gaze on Wordy, Ed waited for the big man to slide his arms under Lance's upper back and knees. At his team leader's nod, he counted down. "One, two, three."
On three, he scrambled back as his teammates stood in sync; Wordy adjusted the teen's position to carry him more easily and Greg shifted sideways, keeping his hands on the thigh wound, though he never looked up from Lance's still, bleeding form. With careful maneuvering, Ed and Wordy coordinated moving both Wild Mages out of the room and down the metal staircase, always speaking directly to their lieutenant when they needed him to do something. It was painstaking and tedious, each moment eating into time they didn't have, but fifteen minutes later, they'd successfully reached their trucks without incident.
Spike already had the back door open and he was in position; determination shone as he helped slide Lance into the truck's back seat without disrupting the critical connection between uncle and nephew. They all knew; if that connection broke, they'd probably lose both: Lance to the Suppression Potion and the Boss to shock and grief. With no time to lose, the bomb tech remained where he was and held Lance still, leaving Lou to drive their truck with Wordy riding shotgun while Ed swung into the first truck's driver's seat and Jules took Marina to their third truck. Sam closed the back door behind the Boss and sprinted for his and Jules' truck even as the first two trucks began to roll for the street.
As they pulled out from the warehouse, Ed snapped on the lights and siren, then ordered Kira to dispatch uniforms and lock down the scene, and finally flicked his attention to the rearview mirror. Spike's dark eyes met his, just as fearful, because all of them could feel it. They could feel their lieutenant weaving his magic around his nephew's, clinging to Lance with every bit of strength he had. The last time he'd done that, he'd broken the connection between his magic and his core, tipping a row of dominos that would've ended in utter disaster if not for the Halloween Shades and Aslan's direct intervention.
"Greg. You gotta stop," Ed ordered, keeping his tone steady with an effort. "We're on our way to the hospital and we'll make it in time, I promise, but you can't risk yourself like this, buddy."
For the first time since he'd let his magic loose, Greg's eyes came up, actually meeting Ed's in the rearview mirror as utter heartbreak shone in the depths of glowing scarlet. "He's my son, Eddie; I can't let him die."
Sergeant Ed Lane swallowed hard. There was absolutely nothing he could say to that. To fight against that argument was to shame them both. If Clark had been lying in that backseat and he'd been in Greg's spot, he would have drained every last drop of his own magic dry to save his son's life. Just like Giles Onasi had willingly jumped between his son and a Killing Curse. Just like Wordy had willingly put himself between Claire and the monster who'd kidnapped her, holding firm against an enemy he couldn't beat and enduring the Cruciatus for his daughter's sake. Any father worth his salt would do the same.
Spike opened his mouth to argue anyway and Ed shook his head in warning. "Copy that, Greg," he whispered. Then he turned his attention back to the road and slammed the accelerator to the floor.
Finis Aderat
[2] Also known as a butterfly knife.
Author Note: To Be Concluded... *roll end credits/music*
I hope everyone is enjoying our three part trilogy (yes, one more story for this arc - and your cruel faithful author has pulled another cliffhanger). Despite my acknowledged cruelty, I do very much treasure each and every review left on my stories. So please read and review!
Ahem, moving on. Next Friday (July 1st 2022), we will officially kick off the final story in this latest saga - "If Today Was Your Last Day" will be right here in the main Flashpoint archive.
See You on the Battlefield!