Chapter Three: A Desperate Plea

Most of the time, Eddie was direct to threat. A born tactician and sniper. And yet, while he'd never be the best of the team at negotiating, he rarely gave himself enough credit either. Lieutenant Greg Parker buried a tiny smile as he watched his best friend wheedle a private room out of the Pearly's hostess, confessing that they didn't have reservations, but if no one was using the room anyway…then letting a group of cops in at the last second would at least mean revenue from that space. Plus if Team One was in there, then they wouldn't be taking up two tables in Pearly's main dining area.

Swallowing down a laugh as the hostess finally bowed to Ed's persuasion, Parker smoothed out his expression and joined the taller man. Hawk blue shifted to him, measuring and assessing.

Hazel warmed a hair. "Ed, I'm fine. First time I've had it happen on-duty."

"First time that you know about," Lane countered, nodding once at the lieutenant's tiny flinch. "Surprised Queenscove didn't think of this himself."

One brow hiked. "I thought of it, Eddie, so I'm sure he did, too, but it was too soon. Too much."

A finger poked his chest. "Greg. It's never too soon when your health's at risk." The finger poked again. "Get it through your head, Greg. We're your team. Yeah, we were ticked, but if we'd known, we'd've been there. Any time, day or night."

He looked away, rubbing at his shoulder in lieu of his chest. "Sam and Jules might not agree with you."

"After all those musty old books Word dug through? They'd better not pitch a fit." The sniper shook his head. "It can do a lot of things, buddy, but it can't change DNA. Yeah, it tied us all together, but at the end of the day, we've got the exact same DNA we were born with."

"True, but that doesn't change what they're going through, Eddie."

The tall Sergeant huffed. "Sam should know even better than the rest of us."

Now that was just unfair. Greg frowned up at his friend. "Sam's father insured he didn't know anything more about it than he was told growing up."

Blue flickered and Ed's shoulders relaxed a hair. "Copy," he murmured. "I hear you, Boss, but as soon as you started havin' trouble, you shoulda known you could come to us."

It was his turn to back down. One hand rubbed through his remnants of hair and over the bald dome. "I have it under control, Ed. It won't be a liability on a call."

"You're right," the sniper agreed in a level tone. "It won't be an issue. Not after today." An intent gaze snared his eyes. "And as of tomorrow, you're back in the locker room."

"If the others agree."

Blue burned into him and Ed scowled, but Greg refused to yield on that point. It could not be Eddie's call alone, not when Jules and Sam were justifiably upset about the blood bonds. If they didn't agree, he'd stay right where he was.


Jules was in front of Wordy as they walked into Pearly's; the hostess immediately pointed them towards one of the restaurant's private rooms, the faint frown on her face suggesting that she didn't entirely approve of letting them have the room without a reservation. The brunette gave the woman an apologetic grimace, her peripheral vision picking up her team leader's 'what-can-you-do?' shrug. At least the hostess's reaction confirmed Pearly's hadn't been planned prior to their shift and dropped on their heads at the last second to keep them from arguing.

Despite that, Jules kept her expression closed and eyes narrowed by a hair as she and Wordy strode through the restaurant to the private room. Inside, she flicked a glance around – no Lou and Sam yet – and landed her full attention on a nervous Sarge. Under her stare, he fidgeted, dropping his gaze away with a faint, hardly audible whine.

"Enough."

Behind her, she sensed Wordy's startled jump, the unexpected firmness in Ed's voice enough to give his stallion instincts a sharp prod. Unperturbed, the constable turned, landing a glare on her Sergeant.

He gave the glare back with interest, blue narrowing dangerously. "Jules. We get it. But that's enough."

Her hands found her hips, propping on them. "Easy for you to say."

He held up three fingers. "It happened before Fletcher Stadium. While the gryphon was still runnin' around loose, causing havoc." One finger folded down. "I heard Word talkin' to you two; blood bonds used to be part of wizarding marriages before they started lookin' down their noses at blood magic." The second finger folded down. "And Sarge's core is having spasms 'cause the 'team sense' is down. That is not going to happen on a hot call, understand?" The final finger closed right in time with Wordy's sharp inhale and her freeze.

"It's having what?" Jules blurted, ponytail flying as she whirled, scanning Sarge from head to toe.

He flinched and she saw his negotiator mask slide into place. Impassive hazel met her gaze, every last emotion buried beneath that protective shield. "It hasn't affected my performance."

The brunette felt herself stiffen, anger and hurt warring within. Anger at what he'd done to her and Sam. Hurt that he was hiding from them, not letting them in. Anger that he was downplaying his own needs. Hurt that he'd never considered the consequences when he'd done that damn blood oath with Spike.

She inhaled, pulling her own negotiator mask into place. For a long moment, the two negotiators regarded each other, not letting even a wisp of their internal thoughts show. Then Jules stepped forward, moving to her lieutenant's side. She reached out, grasping his wrist even as brown eyes met hazel. "Sarge. We can still be mad at you without jeopardizing your health."

"She's right." Wordy, moving up behind her. "Well, I'm not mad at you, but…"

Hazel lightened a hair, though the negotiator mask remained firmly in place as Wordy curled around them, resting a hand on Sarge's shoulder, 'accidentally' landing right at the gap between his uniform collar and bare neck. Jules studied her boss closely, only pulling back when the tension in the depths of his eyes eased.


Sam slipped into the chair next to Jules, earning a brilliant smile from her. Ed had hit him and Lou with the same three arguments that he'd used on Jules and Wordy, but since he and Lou had already guessed they had another Sarge problem on their hands, it hadn't been quite the shock for them that it had been for their teammates. And if they were lucky, Sarge wouldn't have another 'core spasm' for the rest of the day after they'd all used the 'physical touch' remedy.

No, the shock was the sound of someone knocking on the wood next to the private room's doorway right before he leaned in. Grant Taylor, with an expression of pure mischief that set all of them on guard. "Room for one more?" he drawled.

Sarge twitched a grin. "We'll send him back in one piece," he promised, ignoring his teammates' inquisitive stares.

Taylor grinned right back. "Just give me a call when you're done," he replied, shifting back to grab someone out of sight of the door. Even as Jules frowned and Sam started to open his mouth, the wizard tugged his companion into sight.

"Spike!"

Sightless medium-brown landed unerringly on Lou and the bomb tech tilted his head. "Aren't you guys on shift?"

"Lunch at Pearly's," Ed explained, already moving towards their teammate while Grant and Sarge traded smug looks. The wizard lifted a hand, then ducked back into the main restaurant, whistling as he strode away.

"Well, yeah, sure smells like Pearly's," Spike jibed back; Lou laughed and abandoned his chair to grab another one.

"Lou, don't. We'll move," Sam broke in, gesturing Jules towards the other side of the table. She made a face – it would put their backs to the door – but nodded agreement. Anything to get Lou and Spike together while keeping their blind teammate as comfortable as possible. Even if he couldn't see, he'd be able to sense an open door at his back.

Their Sergeant cast them an approving nod even as Sarge temporarily vacated his chair to give Ed and Spike an open route to the wall side of the table. For his part, Ed kept Spike well away from chairs that might trip him up, guarding his movements fiercely until Lou could reach out and guide him the last few steps to his seat.

It took a few minutes for the team to settle again; Sam quietly helped Lou shuffle the plates around so Spike got a clean one and the used plates ended up back with their owners. Fortunately, none of them had needed the silverware yet, so there was no need to juggle forks or knives. The bomb tech held still, letting his best friend work, but Sam spied a gleam of emerald and felt a shiver down his back. Spike was trying to use his magic to see. He gazed meaningfully at Lou and flicked his eyes towards Spike when the other man hiked a brow.

Lou blinked, then followed Sam's gaze, seeing what he had. Dropping his tone to a low rumble, he whispered, "Spike?"

Spike cocked his head in a canine-like fashion, sightless orbs traveling around the table. "Yeah, buddy?"

The tan-skinned constable pulled in a breath. "Is that working?"

Dark hair tilted further to the side for a beat as Spike parsed the question. Then his jaw twitched upwards. "Kinda. Can sorta see your magic. And the guys."

Several sets of eyes widened, but Spike didn't elaborate further. Even so, Sam noticed several things as the meal proceeded. He saw Spike looking right up at the waitress when she came in, rattling off his order as smoothly as if he'd been reading right off the menu. He noticed the bomb tech reach unerringly for the bread roll basket, only needing a minor prompt from Lou to locate the small plastic cups of butter in their tray. He saw Spike wielding his butter knife without an ounce of fear, cutting through his roll once Lou gently pushed the blade to the center and buttering both sides before slapping them back together, brows knit in concentration.

Lou had to guide the hot plates in when the waitress returned with their food, but as soon as the plates were down on the table, Spike picked up his fork, frowning as he gingerly poked at the food, carefully establishing where everything was on his plate before digging in. Aside from Lou hastily pulling the gravy cup in the center of the plate out of danger before it could tip over, the blind man suffered no mishaps as he worked his way through steak and mashed potatoes. And as time went by, Spike's frown of concentration relaxed, bit by bit, until, right at the end of his meal, he grabbed a small plate of apple pie topped with whipped cream and held it away from Lou, mischief dancing in emerald-tinted brown.

"Spike! You ordered the ice cream! Gimme!"

Rusty laughter shocked them all and a smile appeared as Spike proffered the slice of apple pie, mock contrite. Lou huffed in equally mock aggravation and snatched the plate, replacing it with the bowl of vanilla and chocolate ice cream that their teammate had actually ordered for dessert.

At the end of their meal, while Sarge and Ed wrangled over the bill, Sam settled back in his chair, a tiny grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched Spike and Lou bicker. Maybe Spike couldn't see, but he was scarcely recognizable as the silent, uncertain figure who'd been half-eager, half-afraid as he was guided to a seat in their favorite restaurant. That was progress and sorely needed encouragement for the whole team.

Because even as their friendships teetered on a knife's edge, there was still the assurance that the foundation of their team was as solid and real as it ever had been. The promise that once they'd sorted all their recent struggles out, things would go back to normal.

Sam felt Jules' hand slip into his own and traded a hopeful smile with her. Maybe, just maybe, normal was even closer than they thought.


Before they could separate back to their individual patrol routes, their dispatcher's voice came over the radio. "Sarge?" she asked, a wary hesitance to her voice.

Sarge frowned, one hand rising towards his headset. "Kira?" Something wrong?

Sam's brows rose when Kira didn't immediately reply; beside Sarge, Ed's eyes narrowed. Then the dispatcher cleared her throat and continued, every word chosen with exquisite care. "We have…a report…of a potential threat…to a member of the SRU."

The stocky negotiator's frown deepened. "Who's the report from, Kira? And who's under threat?"

"I think you and Team One should get back here, sir. Soon as you can."

That wasn't a response… Unless… The sniper's eyes widened a hair and he locked gazes with his Sergeant. Ed stared right back, offering a subtle nod of agreement even as he edged just a smidge closer to their lieutenant.

Behind him, Wordy cut right to the heart of the matter. "OMAC Helicarrier," he called, loud enough for Kira to hear him, yet soft enough that no one outside their group could.

While not one of their original OMAC codes, it had been developed after the Neo Death Eater assault on the barn as a way to test Commander Holleran or their dispatchers for possible Imperius compromise.

There was a surprised noise from Kira and the whole team tensed. Then a wry, if foreboding, humor entered her voice. "I don't think you understand what you've started, letting the Avengers loose on this world. They're dangerous."

Wordy grinned, following up with the second part of the multi-phrase response. "They surely are, and the whole world knows it. Every world knows it."

"Was that the point of all this?" Kira challenged. "A statement?"

"A promise." Wordy met his teammates' eyes as he finished, adding a very non-movie phrase. "Helicarrier secure."

"Copy," Sarge acknowledged. "Kira, you already set off the OMAC codes. How 'bout you just tell us what's up."

"Yes, sir," Kira replied, tone subdued. "Marina is here; she says she needs to talk to you." A breath. "She's clutching a photo of a man who she says is her brother-in-law."

Alarm shot through the group. "Captive?" Ed demanded.

"Negative, but he wasn't aware of the photographer, either."

"Copy that, Kira," Sarge murmured, hazel gleaming in their sudden intensity. "We'll be there soon as we can."

"Greg, you are not talking to her alone," their Sergeant snapped. "For all we know, she's got a Portkey stashed in her purse."

The lieutenant bent a frown in his team's direction. "I have never doubted Marina's character. Only some of her decisions. She would not fabricate a threat against her family simply to get my attention."

Sam wasn't so sure about that – didn't Sarge remember the love potion? Kidnapping a sick teenager out of his apartment just 'cause Sarge wouldn't pick up the phone and talk to her? And that didn't even include her triggering Lance's stupid ritual-thingie in the first place.

Glancing around at his teammates, he saw the same doubts written all over their faces. Silently, he vowed to keep as close an eye on Marina as possible. He was not the only one.


Greg was aware of the rampant disbelief swirling around him. With the 'team sense' down, his magical sixth sense was muted, as were his five physical senses, but he was not blind, deaf, or dumb. Eddie was hovering so close behind him that if he stopped too quickly, the Sergeant would smack into him. Word and Lou had taken up the foreguard while Sam and Jules tag-teamed the rearguard, the constables radiating hostility and suspicion that wasn't directed at him. Apparently, all it took for his team to forgive him for the blood bonds was Marina turning up again. Which might've been funny if it hadn't been so sad.

As the team hit the ramp up into the atrium from the garage, Parker felt the moment his two leading teammates saw Marina; tension crackled in the air, thick as a storm rolling in. Enough.

The lieutenant quickened his step, sharp hand signals demanding that his team stand down. They slowed, frowning as he brushed past towards the blonde woman hovering in front of the dispatcher desk. Her makeup was impeccable, every last hair in place, but there was a redness to her eyes that spoke to recent tears and she was clutching something to her chest. Likely the picture of her brother-in-law, if he had to guess.

"Greg," she breathed, hope igniting like embers given new fuel.

Pain spasmed inside his heart and it took everything he had to not sweep her up in a hug, begging for her to come back even though he'd been the one to end it. Locking down his emotions, Parker let his mask slide in place, suddenly grateful for all the recent practice. "Hello, Marina."

She hurried to him, reaching out her free hand; he let her grasp his, inwardly thrilling in her touch. "Greg, can we talk?"

"Right here," Eddie growled before he could respond. "You two don't leave our sight."

He restrained a sigh as his teammates nodded fierce agreement with their Sergeant. One shoulder lifted in a 'what-can-you-do?' shrug before he gestured to the far end of the atrium. "We can talk over there, Marina." Far enough for some privacy, but close enough that Ed wouldn't protest any further.

Although unhappy with the public setting, Marina nodded and allowed her former fiancé to guide her a short distance away from the other occupants of the atrium. Once they were far enough away that they couldn't be easily overheard, Greg halted. Unease stirred in the back of his mind; his teammates' enhanced hearing would catch every word; but he focused on the blonde.

Before he could speak, she proffered the photo in her hand, along with an envelope. He took both and started with the envelope. A message in Marina's handwriting along with a photo of an older woman he knew to be her mother. Clearly unaware of the camera, the elder woman was working in her small rose garden, smiling down at the plants in her care.

He knew from his time as Marina's fiancé that Mrs. Levin had suffered a severe stroke several years back, one that had partially paralyzed her right side and wrecked havoc with her memory. Some days, she couldn't even recognize her own family, but even on her worst days, she remembered her beloved roses; tending them had become a form of therapy she could practice all year 'round – in addition to the outside garden depicted in the photo, her devoted children had put together an indoor garden with miniature roses on an elaborate climbing trellis.

Chilled to the bone, Greg inspected the other photograph. Marina's brother-in-law, just as unaware of the camera as her mother had been, heading for his car, which was parked right in front of his family home where Marina's sister lived along with her young niece. Perhaps nieces if Marina's sister had another little girl when she gave birth in a few months.

Then he felt something beneath the first photo and shifted his fingers. A piece of paper appeared from under the edge and the lieutenant pulled it all the way out, frown deepening towards a scowl as he read the meeting invitation written on it.

Glancing up, he asked only one question. "What do they want, Marina?"

Shame cloaked her slim form and Marina hugged herself for an instant. "They want you, Greg. If I don't come back with you today, they're going to kidnap my mother. You know how she is, she won't understand, she'll be so scared." Tears filled her beautiful gray eyes as she gazed up at him. "Please help me, Greg. Please don't let them hurt my family."


Author note: I hope everyone enjoyed - and whadda know? Marina can learn from her mistakes!

On a Real Life front, the end is in sight, though my exit is not fully planned out yet. I was told this week that my company has enough need of experienced developers in other accounts that they are no longer concerned about finding a replacement for me. Instead, once I have a new project in hand, they will inform the Client Manager and pull me out of my current Bank project. I am sorry for my coworkers who will be left behind and saddled with more work by the Client Manager, but I am very relieved that the Lord is bringing this assignment to an end.

There are two possible destinations - Phone and Bank 2. I have already spoken to a manager from my company who knew me back when I was working Prod Support and he's told me that the position will be a pure development position, albeit at a much faster pace than I have worked before. Plus, Phone is not too fussed about which company developers work for them, so long as the work is done. That means they are content to leave hiring up to the company manager. If I go there, I will be under a manager whom I have worked with before and I can basically stop working for Bank 1 and start working for Phone the next day.

Bank 2, if it comes to pass, will be a bit more complicated. They will require both an interview and a background check - the interview will need to be scheduled around my Bank 1 work hours and the background check will take 2-3 weeks. Also, I have no idea if I've met any company employees working for Bank 2 before.

Obviously, my preference is Phone, but I will wait and see what the Lord has for me.

On the flip side of Life, my parents were planning to come and visit me in Dallas next month. However, my Mom has had some health issues and she's concerned about traveling through the airports (not to mention my third floor, no elevator walkup apartment). We were hoping her health would improve - and it has, thank the Lord - but it's still not enough for her to be confident about the trip. As a result, we decided together that I will fly up to Chicago instead and be with them for the week. So this week has been fun with scrambling around for airline tickets and arranging my transportation to/from the airport.

As ever, I thank all of my readers who lift me and my family up in prayer. If any of you has prayer requests, please feel free to reach out to me, either in a review or in a PM, and I would be very privileged to pray for you.