Chapter Eleven: Skull & Crossbones

Jules took the lead up the stairs into Spike's apartment building, acutely aware of the little blonde right on her heels, eagerly looking around at where a cop might live. Behind them, Fanny was carrying the youngest member of the Bennet family – Elizabeth, Fanny had told her during the drive, though Jane insisted that her sister preferred Lizzy. Jules suspected the little girl was right, if only because her younger sister would grow up hearing 'Lizzy' from her father and older sister. Either that or she'd totally rebel against Lizzy in favor of her full name or some other nickname.

In the meantime, the constable hit the top of the stairs and turned left, reaching out to grab little Jane's hand to keep her close. Spike's apartment building was in a safe area of the city, but every cop knew even the safest areas could still be dangerous. The preschooler squeaked in surprise, but didn't fight Jules' grip on her hand as the brunette navigated the hallway to reach her teammate's apartment.

A quick knock at the door drew a look of wonder from Jane; Jules smiled down at the little girl even as keen jaguar hearing picked up the sound of footsteps from the other side of the door. They padded right up to the door and Jules transferred her smile to the peephole. There was a beat of silence, then the locks disengaged with soft clicks and the door swung open, revealing a black woman with chocolate eyes and dark brown curly hair that hung freely down to her shoulders. Her cheeks were rounded, chin slightly pointed, and her nose slimmed down to a point above a tentative smile.

"Hi…Jules, right?"

"That's right," Jules confirmed, reaching with her free hand to shake Gwen Coulby's hand. "How's he doing today?"

The tentative smile turned a touch rueful. "It's been…an interesting few days…" Jules' brows shot up. "But I think we're past the worst of it." Turning her attention to the little blonde now hiding behind Jules' leg, Gwen crouched down, her soft brown leggings flexing and setting off her lilac blouse. "Hi there, sweetheart. What's your name?"

A tiny blonde lock found its way to the little girl's mouth and she chewed on it a moment before answering, "Jane." She studied Gwen a moment. "Are you Mistuh Spike's girlfriend?"

Gwen laughed, a bright, cheery laugh that made Jane smile. "No," she replied. "I'm a home health care nurse. That means I come and help people in their homes when they're sick or need some help adjusting to a disability."

Leaving them to it, Jules slipped inside the apartment. The faint scent of dog hit her sensitive nose and she grimaced, realizing just what Gwen had been dealing with. She followed the scent right to Spike's bedroom and found him inside, muttering to himself as he tried to shove a set of clothes into a duffle bag already piled high with toiletries.

"Spike, stop," Jules ordered, swooping in to help. "You're going to break something."

His head snapped around and she fought not to wince as light brown eyes darted towards her voice, struggling to focus on where her face should be. "Jules." Greeting and limp relief, all in one.

Stepping to the bed, Jules pulled the clothing away and set it on the other end of the bed, then turned back to the duffle bag and unpacked everything already in it. "Do you need anything besides what you've got here?"

He considered, reaching out to touch a few items as he muttered to himself, too soft for even her hearing. "Um, how many clothes have I got?"

The brunette sniper took the pile apart, then sighed. "Not enough. Is there anything you can share with Lou or Sam?"

"Second duffle bag?" Spike pleaded.

"If you've got one, sure."

"Closet, I think," the raven constable replied. "Can light up somethin' I'm near or touching, but farther than that…"

"No dice," Jules finished for him, earning a nod. As she moved to the closet and rummaged through for another duffle bag, she asked, "You shifted into your Animagus form?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike wince, eyes dropping to the floor and his head tilting to the side. She was a jaguar – a solitary species not prone to groups – but they'd all learned the general body language of packs from Sarge. Sighing, the negotiator snagged the duffle bag she'd just found and hefted it out of the closet onto the bed before moving to her teammate's side.

"Spike. You didn't break the Statute, right?"

"No," he mumbled.

"Then there's no problem. We all registered, remember?"

He flushed, turning his head away. "Yeah, but…"

"But…?" she prompted gently.

He hugged himself, head tilting farther to the side. "Didn't mean to shift, it just happened."

Oh. Jules reached out, grasping her friend's shoulder. "Spike, stop it. We've got Wild Magic – it's going to do things we don't expect." She waited for a tiny smile to quirk the other constable's jaw. "Did it help?"

He blinked once. Twice. Then his head swung towards hers again, sightless light brown eyes somehow meeting her own light brown. "Yeah." There was an undercurrent of wonder, as if he hadn't realized that until Jules asked.

Moving back to the bed, Jules mentally ordered her strategy, then started with the duffle bag for Spike's clothes. "You couldn't shift back?"

Her teammate shook his head, looking down again. "Not till this morning," he replied, shoulders hunching. "Gwen was 'bout to call for backup."

Light brown widened, but Jules forced herself to stay perfectly calm. Cool and collected. "Do you know what triggered it?"

The raven fidgeted, hugged himself, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and finally admitted, "Ed called me after the T-South riot."

She stilled, head turning towards her teammate. "Spike," she asked, in the gentlest tone she could, "Have you been blaming yourself for not being able to come back to work?"

He tried to smile at her in a 'no, why would you think that?' fashion, but it only lasted a split second before he crumpled and she abandoned the packing to hurry to him, pulling him close in a fierce hug. Tears dripped down onto her shirt and she understood. He was still close enough to his canine mindset that he couldn't hold a mask over his emotions like they usually did. Not that Spike had ever been as good at that as her or Sarge. Or Ed, come to think of it – the sniper Sergeant might not be a negotiator, but he tended to be the team's stoic. Well…most of the time, anyway.

Rumbling a subvocal purr, Jules rocked on her feet, letting her teammate cry himself out – he needed this. Even before Sarge's arrest, he'd been tying himself in knots over his disability. The therapy had helped – if not for that, Jules wasn't sure Spike would've survived long enough to start adapting to his blindness – but the magic that tied all of them together tended to react…badly…when they couldn't be on-duty. Sick days or vacation weren't a problem, though Jules always felt an impatient eagerness right before she was about to come back. As if the magic inside her needed the others to be complete.

She wasn't sure how long it was before Spike finally gave one last shudder and sniffled hard, pulling himself back together. He stepped back, automatically scrubbing at the tear tracks he couldn't even see, his rumpled hair reminding Jules of a college kid – perpetually on the move with hardly any thought for how he looked.

"You found him?"

A rueful smile peeked through. "No, we didn't," Jules confessed. "Scarface grabbed Jesse Travis and he called me instead of Susan."

Spike grinned. "Knew that guy was fast on his feet." The grin fell away. "How bad?"

She caught her lip, nibbling down on it for a few seconds. "Bad enough that once Susan got there, she kicked us all out."

Her teammate paled, but there was a confusion there, too. He wanted to help, but without his sight… Jules shook that away and returned to the duffle bags, efficiently organizing the clutter on the bed and collecting a few more sets of clothes from the dresser drawers before she packed the bags – one for clothes and the other for everything else.

As she worked, a thought occurred, though she kept it to herself. If Spike's magical core had recovered enough for him to use his Animagus form again, then why hadn't his vision come back yet?

"Jules?"

Turning, one brow arched at the perplexed expression on her friend's face. "Yes?"

"Who'd you come with?" The raven head tilted to the side in curiosity. "I hear more than just Gwen out there."

A smile crept across Jules' face. "Well," she began, eyes sparkling, "It turns out you and Lou have quite the fan in Elias's gang."

"Huh?"

"But Ed and Wordy are definitely gonna give you grief over telling her your real names while we were undercover."

"We didn't!"

One hand rose to cover her laugh and Jules pushed her teammate at the door. "Go on; I've almost got you packed."

The suspicious glare was almost enough to make her giggle, then Spike trudged out into his living room area. Mentally, Jules counted down – three, two, one…

"Mistuh Spike!" Jane squealed.

Something eased in Ed's shoulders when he saw Spike coming in, right behind Jules. The light brown hue of the bomb tech's irises was painful – how long was it going to take for Spike to get his sight back? – but to have all his teammates in one place… It felt right, in ways he couldn't explain, even to himself.

A smile tugged and he waited for their bomb tech to make it all the way across the room before he hardened his expression, crossed his arms, and drawled, "Guess we know why you're not cut out for undercover work, Scarlatti. First time a pretty girl bats her eyes at you, you fold."

The bomb tech turned pink, but came right back. "I tried telling her my name was Tony, Ed, but she said she already had a 'Mistuh Tony', so I couldn't be Tony, too."

Lou snickered.

"Besides, Lou's the one who told her his real name," Spike added, a wicked grin appearing. "I just used my nickname."

"Point," Wordy agreed, grinning just as wickedly as he leaned on Lou's chair and ignored the gawking from their criminal counterparts. Glancing back at his Sergeant, he said, "I vote they both get failing grades on the undercover final, Boss."

Ed nodded agreement at his team leader, leaning back on his heels before remarking, "Same goes for you, Word."

The brunet snapped upright, gray widening. "What?"

Jules giggled as she guided Spike over to the table, right by Lou. "I asked Jane if she could name all of us – and she did, everyone but Sarge."

Spike barked a laugh and Lou snickered again. "Guess Sarge really is the best of us at undercover work," he chortled.

Sighing, Ed glared at Jules, but there was no heat in it. As Wordy reached out, slinging an arm around Spike's shoulders to haul him around to Lou's other side, the glare fell away into a subtle grin. His team, back together and raring to go.

"Okay! We've got the intel on our escapees and Elias's guys are gonna be keepin' an eye out."

"How's the Boss?" Spike asked.

"Door's still closed," Wordy reported. "I'm not buggin' 'em till they're out."

The bomb tech nodded. "What else we need?"

The Sergeant leaned forward. "Lou, bring up our friendly IA detective."

"Copy," the less-lethal specialist replied, clicking away at the laptop until Niebaum's picture was front and center.

"Terence Niebaum," Ed said, for Spike's benefit. "The only guy to slip Sarge's net when he was under."

"Sarge didn't catch him?"

"No, he did," Wordy put in. "Prolly had more than enough evidence to tie Niebaum to Castor Troy, but somehow, he slithered outta the charges."

Spike made a face. "And now he's after Sarge."

"Prove he's the good cop," Lou murmured quietly.

Light blue narrowed. "Once was enough," Ed growled.

"More than enough," Wordy agreed, catching his Sergeant's train of thought. "At least Collins wasn't corrupt."

Jules cleared her throat, regaining attention before the conversation could derail any further – Ed had a feeling Sam had been about to argue the former cop had been corrupt, seeing as he'd engineered a robbery/hot call in his own workplace.

"Niebaum claimed he doesn't have the authority to override standard prison protocols for people awaiting trial."

The bomb tech's expression darkened and he drummed his fingers against his forearms. "Then who does?"

"He was pointing the finger at Loeb," Sam replied. "Said the only two people in the city with the political pull would be the mayor or Loeb, but the new mayor hasn't been in office long enough for that."

"Commissioner Loeb?" Spike blurted, sightless eyes going wide.

Lane nodded grimly. "Heck of a target if Niebaum's right, but we already know Sarge never found anything to tie him to Castor Troy. If he had, he'd've him taken down, just like Frost."

"Except…" All heads turned towards Jules as she frowned. "Except Loeb signed off on Sarge's transfer and the undercover assignment." She looked up, meeting her Sergeant's gaze. "Maybe even the gag order, too."

Ed's fingers curled at the reminder of the three pieces of paper that had torn apart their world. The papers that had forced his best friend undercover, with no backup, right when he needed it most. Paperwork that had been authorized by the mayor and counter-signed by the police commissioner.

"What else have we got?" Spike asked, scowling.

"The paperwork's not enough," Lou agreed.

"Suspicious, but circumstantial," Sam finished.

He hated it, but his constables were right. Light blue came up, turning towards Scarface as one brow cocked.

The mobster glared at him. "You think we'd tell you, cop?"

"It's for Sarge," Wordy burst out, indignant.

It was – and that was the problem. Intel about Loeb would benefit Greg Parker, SRU lieutenant, but that wasn't who Scarface was loyal to. He was loyal to Carl Elias, Italian mob boss. More, Ed knew just how much his rival resented the fact that Greg had chosen them. Chosen the SRU and being a cop over the undercover assignment he'd been forced into – the life he'd been good at, but couldn't survive. Not for long.

As far as Scarface was concerned, the best possible outcome was for Greg Parker's reputation to be permanently marred – for him to be on the run for the rest of his life because that was the only way he'd consent to staying in Toronto's underworld, with Elias's organization.

So the Sergeant gestured, ordering his teammates to stand down. Spike couldn't see, but Lou reached up, touching his friend's arm in silent warning before the bomb tech could add his own volley to Wordy's. Then Ed signaled for Lou to close the laptop, waiting until his constable obeyed.

Looking his rival in the eye, he said, "Fine. Not like I really trusted Niebaum anyway – he's throwing all the dirt he can, trying to save his own skin."

"You backin' out of the deal, cop?"

One brow arched. "I wasn't aware we had a deal, Scarface." One shoulder shrugged. "Sure, we could use your intel – or whatever intel Greg dug up while he was under. But we don't need you to figure this out."

"You need me to keep him alive," Scarface hissed.

The other brow went up. "Only because your people kidnapped him right out of the prison. If we'd gotten to the Boss, he'd already be back on his feet and it'd be a cold day in hell before Toronto South got their claws on him again." The amusement dropped off his face and he stepped forward, right into the other man's space, as his own anger mixed with a hawk's lethal glare. "And if he'd died, they never would've found your body," he hissed, too low for anyone besides Scarface to hear him. "So you can help us – or you can get the hell out of our way."

Turning away without waiting for a response, Ed focused on his team. "Okay. Jules is right; Loeb was part of putting Sarge under. But unless we got more, he's a red herring."

Sam frowned. "Who else has got the authority, though?"

"Boss?" All attention shifted to Spike; he stiffened under the attention, a trace of emerald glimmering in the depths of his light brown eyes. "Was this IA guy talking about authority or political influence?"

Ed blinked, trading a glance with his team leader. "Both."

Wordy tilted his head, thinking hard before he nodded slowly. "Started off talking about authority…"

"…then he switched to talking about favors and influence," Jules finished. "Spike?"

Their teammate considered, rubbing one hand against the opposite arm in an idle motion. "Which one had more details?"

"Influence," Sam replied instantly. "He even said who the prison inside guy would be."

"He's IA," Wordy pointed out. "He's worked with the prison before."

"He'd know the top guys at the prison…" Lou murmured.

"And their procedure for suspected dirty cops," Sam hissed.

"Then where did Loeb come in?" Spike asked. "He's too high profile to just point the finger at."

The rest of the team considered Scarlatti's observation, all of them frowning at they worked through the question and its implications.

Finally, Ed spoke. "Three reasons," he rumbled. "He had to get SRU off his back – give us a plausible suspect and a good theory for why Loeb and not him." The Sergeant waited for the nods. "His whole authority argument wasn't gonna work unless he pointed at one of our top guys – doesn't get higher than Loeb and he's more old school than a lot of the guys right below 'im."

"He needed the suspect to be high profile," Jules realized. "Adds weight to his theory, maybe even shuts us down – who'd go after Commissioner Loeb?"

Sam's eyes widened in alarm. "But while we're figurin' that out, he's got time to run," the sniper blurted.

Their bomb tech jerked, sightless light brown widening in equal alarm, but their team leader snickered. "Focus on the evidence, guys," Wordy ordered. "Get the proof and we get front row seats to Revan dragging Niebaum back in."

"Bonus points if Sarge's there when he does," Lou added gleefully.

"Popcorn?" Spike asked hopefully.

The team paused, envisioning the scene. Lou bit back a snigger at the mental image of himself and his teammates, all with bags of perfectly golden-butter popcorn. Sarge – front and center with an extra-large bag – calmly eating the kernels along with the rest of them while Revan dragged in the cuffed and Silenced Niebaum. The IA officer ranting at Revan, ranting at Parker, ranting at all of them, never seeming to realize that, for all his ranting, there wasn't a scrap of sound coming out of his mouth. A true sight to behold – if they could get that in real life, Lou knew that would top every single prank he and Spike had ever pulled.

Then his mental image shifted, adding three more participants to the scene. Instead of eating the popcorn himself, Sarge had lowered the extra-large bag enough that even the shortest of the new arrivals could reach it easily. Alanna popped a kernel in her mouth, smirking at Niebaum while Dean ignored the popcorn altogether in favor of glaring daggers at the man who'd tried to put his father in prison. Lance leaned against his uncle's shoulder, just enough to reach over Sarge to snag a couple of the kernels his cousin was missing out on, a smug glimmer in his eyes that boded ill for Niebaum's own stay in the prison – the young Head of House wasn't shy about pulling in the goblins of Gringotts when he was sufficiently ticked off.

And – just like that – Lou knew how to get at least one of Elias's mobsters on their side.

Ed felt a buzz, coming from his pocket, and frowned. He'd made sure Soph knew he and his team were going undercover to get Greg back – Holleran shouldn't be calling unless something else had gone wrong, and he didn't think there was anyone else in the SRU who had his number.

Reaching down, he tugged his phone out, frown deepening at the sight of the name on his caller ID. Cooper – Team Three's Sergeant. What the heck? The phone buzzed again, about to go to voicemail, and he snapped his thumb across the screen, accepting the call as he brought the device up to his ear.

"Lane here."

"You find him?" Anxious, worried, with an edge that the veteran Sergeant couldn't identify. Yet.

Blue narrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Tell me you got eyes on Parker," Cooper begged.

Ed considered, then lowered his phone and flipped to his text messages. It only took a moment to type it out and send it.

COOPER
EYES IN
OMAC?

He brought the phone back up in time to hear Cooper's heavy exhale of relief; keen hawk hearing even caught the sound of the other man sagging against something. A desk, a chair – maybe the wall?

Heart rate picking up at the confirmation that something was definitely wrong, Ed waited until Cooper's phone was by his ear again. Keeping his own tone level, with no hint of anything besides calm, he asked, "Status?"

"No OMAC codes, Lane," Cooper grumbled. "I can't remember mine."

One brow went up. "What about the barn's?" Ed suggested, growing more uneasy by the second.

"My team went Star Wars, not Marvel," the other man retorted.

The opposite side of his jaw quirked. "Your team didn't get dragged to the Mayor's Halloween party two years running." A pause. "Anyone go for a Darth Vader impersonation?"

Caught off-guard, Cooper laughed. "No, but I had two of my guys fighting over who got to use the Obi-Wan Kenobi quotes."

The hand not holding his phone waved. "That's easy – one guy gets Kenobi, the other guy gets his clone commander." A pause. "Before Order 66."

Cooper laughed again, then sobered. "Niebaum's dead."

"Wait, what?" Ed blurted, uncaring that his whole team, Scarface, and Bennet were now turning towards him. A breath, two, then he barked, "Status report."

The other Sergeant audibly jumped. "DeValle called Dispatch, officer down. Since it's Niebaum, we had to stay away, but Winnie got the scoop – Dispatch sent EMS, then called for a coroner and Homicide."

The sniper breathed a low, vicious curse.

"They ain't had time to get started, but Parker's gonna be their prime suspect, Lane. And your guys are gonna be next in line."

"Parker's a no-go," Ed replied, closing his eyes. "He's flat on his back – Travis kicked us out so she could treat him, but he's at least got broken ribs and an infection going." He turned his head, pulling the phone away from his ear. "Scarface, how bad was he when you found him?"

The mobster grimaced, but, seeing the worry in his rival's eyes, simply said, "Bad. They beat him so bad, I wasn't sure he'd live through the night."

His team gawked even as Ed's throat closed up. Dear Aslan – Greg was only alive because of his magic. Unless Scarface had snatched Jesse that night – unlikely – then his best friend had been denied treatment until Elias's guys finally realized they were in over their heads.

Lifting the phone up again, he asked, "You hear that?"

"Yeah," Cooper acknowledged, voice almost as hoarse as Ed's. "Ain't no way Parker could've taken out Niebaum."

No way – but unless they brought the gravely injured lieutenant in, Homicide had no way to know their prime suspect was physically incapable of committing murder. And if they did bring Greg in, they risked losing him to T-South. Oh, sure, the prison would put him in their hospital ward, but Ed had a nasty feeling that if Greg went back inside, he wouldn't be coming out in anything save a body bag.

"We know how he died?"

His fellow Sergeant grumbled. "Nothin' concrete, but Donna called her contacts in Drug Squad; they work with IA sometimes on smuggling cases. Rumor she got is that it was a sniper. Dunno how many rounds, but they shot him center-mass."

An automatic frown emerged – SRU snipers avoided center-mass shots. More reliable for a kill, yes, but unless you hit a subject in the heart or lungs, they'd live long enough to get off a few shots of their own, maybe even take their hostage with them. That said, if the shots had come from a distance, the shooter would almost have to be a sniper. Maybe a hunter? Definitely trained or self-taught. The average shooter was restricted to close-range shots with maybe a few lucky long-range shots thrown in, which did narrow down the suspect list to snipers. Most of whom were in the SRU…which Homicide already knew had a motive. Even with Greg off the suspect list by default, that left the rest of the SRU – all of whom had a grudge against Niebaum for arresting their lieutenant.

Shifting back on his heels, Ed asked, "DeValle back yet?"

"Nope. Won't be back for awhile, I bet."

The Sergeant nodded agreement. Revan was no sniper, but as the first person on the scene, he was a key witness and an automatic suspect. He wouldn't be released until Homicide was satisfied they had his initial statement and he'd been preliminarily cleared.

"When he turns up, have him call Lou," Ed requested.

"You got it, Lane. Anythin' else?"

"Yeah. The prison ever tell us why they had a blind spot?"

Cooper grunted, unimpressed with what he had to say. "Camera's there, Lane, but it's been broken for a couple months. Warden was babbling about budget constraints and prisoner rights – shut up real fast when Donna pointed out that keepin' the cameras runnin' is part of the job." There was a pause. "You guys comin' in?"

Ed shook his head. "Can't risk it," he replied. "Not with Parker's injuries."

"Then you're under till it's over," Cooper warned.

"Copy that," Lane whispered. "But he'll live." His eyes slid to Scarface, taking in the startled expression on his rival's face. "If you can, pass whatever you get onto Lou. He'll get it to the rest of us."

There was a long pause, then, "Good luck, Lane."

He couldn't help it – he smirked. "Cooper, we don't need luck; we've got Spike."

Author Note: Happy New Year 2025, everyone!

And may the plague of 'commission artists' peddling AI art pass very, very quickly. Sadly, my Christmas oneshot fell victim to the scourge and while I have reported that 'review', I have to wait until the site admins finally get around to deleting it. Lord Willing, the same fate will not befall this story.

In other news, I have had a lovely time with my parents this Christmas. I still have them for a few more days before they go home, so I am enjoying. = )

I pray that everyone had a Merry Christmas and will have a wonderful New Year.

And Peace On Earth, Good Will Towards Men!