Chapter Eight: Freedom to Choose

Greg froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up and a sense of something wrong racing through him. He stepped away from Penny's parents, keeping his voice calm and steady. "What's going on, guys?"

Spike's response was on the edge of terrified, "Penny's holding her gun on Alanna. She thinks Alanna's going into a trap."

The Sergeant swore his blood turned to ice in that moment; he wasn't terrified, he was petrified for his niece. How he managed to speak with any sense, much less calm was due entirely to the sense of wrongness changing into the defiant cry of a phoenix, right on the edge of hearing. "Jules, I don't have eyes in." He swallowed hard. "This is your call, but if Penny is threatening…" he trailed off, unable to continue.

"She's not going to hurt her," Jules told him, confidence in every word.

"Jules, Alanna's the priority," Greg pointed out. "Sam?"

"I have it," Sam said grimly.

"She's not going to hurt her," Jules murmured, then she let out a faint gasp.

Alanna had raised both hands, keeping them spread where Penny could see them. Softly, so soft that Penny couldn't hear, she incanted, "Gescildan (1)." Faint violet light spread out between the redhead and Penny, forming a barrier between the two. The barrier shimmered in the air, almost invisible but the constables could see it.

"Alanna, stay here," Penny pleaded.

Jules kept her gaze away from the barrier, not wanting Penny to realize Alanna was protected, and intervened. "Penny, we're not going to take Alanna anywhere, unless she chooses to go."

Penny tossed Jules a glare. "There is no choice. That's what the book says."

Jules didn't hesitate. "Okay, I didn't read that book, Penny. But this is what I know about choice. Okay?" She looked at Alanna and the redhead gave her an encouraging look. "Gerald made a choice today. He chose to leave you. And Alanna- Alanna's making a choice. She wants to see her brother." Alanna lit up at that statement and she grinned at Jules shyly. Jules smiled back and kept going, "And you made an amazing choice. The most amazing choice. Because you just met this little girl, and you're protecting her, and not everybody would do that." Penny was still tense, shotgun in hand. Jules looked Penny in the eye and pleaded, "Penny, please, let her choose."

Alanna met Penny's eyes herself. The barrier between the two girls shimmered a little brighter as Alanna whispered, "Please…let me go."

Sam kept his weapon aimed, but all three constables knew the shotgun couldn't get through the barrier, even if they hadn't recognized the actual spell. Penny lowered the shotgun, anguish in her face and Alanna edged backwards toward Spike.

Spike lunged forward, swept his nipote up, and yanked her clear. Alanna's magic skated around him as he moved and leapt behind the group to a window. Spike caught a glimpse of the window and its shutters breaking as the magical pulse struck it. As he bolted down the steps, Penny's wail echoed down the stairs, "Alanna?! Don't go outside! You'll cross the underground wire!" Spike looked down at Alanna, blinking at her smug look. As they reached the first floor, he swung her down and set the girl on her feet.

"Okay, what's the grin for, munchkin?" he demanded playfully, forcing his heart rate to slow down after seeing Alanna threatened with a shotgun.

Alanna swatted his arm at the 'munchkin' comment and, with an even wider grin, gestured to the collar on her ankle. "I blew it out."

Spike let out a low whistle as he knelt and slipped the collar off. Sure enough, its electrical components were charred and blackened, the collar almost falling apart in the tech's grip. "When'd you do that?"

The redhead fidgeted. "My magic did it when it healed my hands," she admitted.

Spike immediately captured her hands and inspected her palms. Nothing, not even a hint of the burns that the shotgun's heat had almost certainly caused. "Look, I get why you did that, but that was really dangerous, 'Lanna." As Spike led the young girl to the door, he added, "Don't do that again, 'Lanna. We're supposed to protect you, not the other way 'round." Without waiting for a reply, Spike swung the front door open and guided his nipote down the front steps. "You're gonna be okay," he told her, keeping a light grip on her hands. He could see Sarge's face from the corner of his eye and it was a minor miracle that his boss didn't collapse right then and there from sheer relief.

As soon as Alanna was down the steps, she ran right past the Child Services rep to her uncle, yelling, "Uncle Greg!" Penny's parents gaped at her as Sarge grabbed her up off the ground and actually swung her around, putting his back to the house and only lowering his nipote to the ground once he was satisfied she was okay. The girl stayed in her uncle's arms, hugging him back as he struggled not to cry. Spike followed Alanna and put one hand on his boss's shoulder, squeezing once. The Boss turned his head to Spike, tears glistening in his eyes, and nodded thanks.

Ed and Wordy entered the warehouse Duglin had ducked into, weapons at the ready. Dust coated the floor and tables stood empty, disused and abandoned. What little equipment was left stood silent and rusting and graffiti littered the walls. Sunlight peeked through the doorways and the holes in the roof. In what looked like the center of the warehouse, a structure with two levels sat. The walls were either gone or half destroyed, leaving only the steel support beams. There was a metal staircase in relatively good condition that led from the warehouse floor to the upper level of the standalone structure.

As they proceeded toward the structure, Wordy gestured to a trail of blood on the ground with a sharp, "Ed."

Before Ed could respond there was a shot; both constables ducked behind the rusting equipment for cover. With a hard edge to his voice as the two constables advanced toward the structure behind their impromptu cover, Wordy remarked, "That's a revolver, right? Six in the chamber, that's number three."

The subject fired at them again as they reached a section of piping. "Four," Ed announced.

Another shot pinged off the piping. "Five," Ed drawled. He kept his corner-shot pointing in the subject's direction, muttering, "Where's six? Where's six? Where's six?"

Alanna carefully twisted around in her uncle's arms until her back was to his chest and she was facing two people who just had to be Penny's parents. They were staring between her and her uncle and the house she'd just left. Shy, but determined, Alanna met their eyes and asked, "Are you Penny's parents?"

Penny's parents blinked at her a moment, surprised at the question. "Yes, we are," Penny's mother replied. "You must be Alanna Calvin."

"You know my name?"

Uncle Greg's chuckle sounded rusty. " 'Lanna, sweetheart, your kidnapping's been all over the news. That's how we found you; the gas station clerk recognized you and called 911."

Alanna tilted her head back to look up at her uncle as she deliberately nestled closer to him. "I knew you'd find me," she chirped. If his hug was almost painfully tight in response, well, she wasn't complaining. Looking back at Penny's parents, she picked up her train of thought. "I like her, you know." At the slightly blank looks, she elaborated. "Penny. She's scared and terrified and she's been told cops are bad for however long she's been here, but she let me go and she listened when I told her about Team One." Alanna stopped, considering her next words. "She's going to be alright," she continued, meeting their eyes. "It'll be really, really hard at first, I bet, but inside, she's still your daughter. And I think it helped, when that Mu…man lied and said my parents had given me to him." Uncle Greg hissed at that. "I was able to tell him he was lying and he couldn't make up a new story. Penny saw that."

Penny's mother looked confused. "If you don't mind…"

"What was the lie?" Alanna finished.

Penny's father stepped in. "We know he was lying, but how did you prove him wrong?"

Uncle Greg answered for her. "Alanna's parents died over a year ago."

"You got it?" Ed asked Wordy, keeping his eyes on their finally cornered prey. It was tempting to squeeze off a few rounds, but the Team Leader was determined that Duglin was going to see Alanna safe and sound as he was carted off to jail.

"I got it." Wordy's voice was still angry, but Ed knew his best friend would control himself.

Advancing, Ed called, "Gerald, it's over." From where Ed was standing, he could see the blood dripping down Duglin's arm. "Just put the gun down and come down those steps. Hands in the air. Hands where we can see 'em."

Behind Ed, Wordy shifted positions to get a better angle. Duglin's eyes narrowed as he yelled, "Stop!" Ed halted, willing to play along a touch longer. "Okay? Just stop." Duglin's gaze darted sideways, keeping both officers in view.

Ed forced his voice to stay calm, steady. "All right, it's up to you. Just put the gun down and come down or we will come in there. You have five seconds." As he spoke, Wordy shifted position again, moving to get clear of the pipes and equipment.

Duglin stared at his opponents. "You don't understand. No one does."

Darn right I don't, Ed thought, and I wouldn't want to. Aloud, he said, "Explain it to me, Gerald."

"This isn't want I wanted," the subject protested.

I bet it's not. "Yeah?" Ed demanded, "What did you want?"

"To be happy. Just like anybody else."

Wordy's growl was audible and Ed didn't bother to hide his rage as he snapped, "You're not like everybody else, Gerald. Put the gun down."

Gerald Duglin stared at them, caught off guard by the rage neither man hid. "Who is she to you?" he demanded.

"Oh wouldn't you like to know," Wordy snarled. "Put the gun down!"

"I can't," Gerald said, almost mournful. "Without her, no life." With that he raised the revolver to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Ed Lane stared as the man fell, his eyes betraying nothing. With a forced nonchalance, he remarked, "There's six." Behind him, Wordy's furious growl said it all.

[1] Old English for 'shield'