Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Gli amici miei son quasi tutti via
E gli altri partiranno dopo me
Peccato, perché stavo bene
In loro compagnia
Ma tutto passa, tutto se ne va”

“My friends are almost all away
And the others will be leaving after me
What a shame because I was comfortable, yes, in their company
But everything has an end, everything goes away”

-Che Sarà (What Will Be) by Ricchi e Poveri

...

“Who’s that?” Raf asked, gesturing to the conference room where a man in a dark suit stood talking with Commander Holleran and Greg.

Ed, who was walking out of the locker room with him shrugged. “Don’t know, haven’t seen him before.”

Greg met Ed’s eyes from across the room and leaned out, “Spike almost ready?” He called.

“Gearing up now.” Ed replied.

“Send him in here when he’s out.” Greg said, leaning back into the room.

“Another one for Spike?” Jules asked, catching the tail end of the conversation as she and Sam met up with the others.

Ed nodded, “Guess so. What’s that, the fourth one this year?”

“Something like that.” Jules laughed. “Must be nice to be so wanted.”

“Or annoying.” Sam countered. “Could you imagine getting accosted by every agency under the sun when you show up to work?”

Jules elbowed him jovially. “Aw, you’re just jealous.” She crooned.

Raf glanced between them. “Alright, what am I missing here?”

Ed opened his mouth to reply just as Spike walked out. He looked back at him and gestured with his head towards the conference room, “Another one.” He said casually.

Spike laughed. “When will they give up?” He joked.

“Seriously, what’s happening?” Raf pressed.

“Every once in a while, some suit shows up trying to poach Spike from us.” Jules explained.

“Tech companies, government, you name it.” Sam added.

“And it never works.” Spike added, grinning.

Ed patted him on the back. “It never works.” He echoed. “We’re stuck with you.”

“Go on, better see what bonus they’re offering this time.” Sam joked. Spike laughed, taking a few steps forward. As he walked far enough to see past the entryway, he froze in his tracks, the smile falling from his face.

“Spike?” Jules asked, “You okay?”

Spike looked back at them, his eyes wide, face a shade paler. He whipped his head back, double checking the room before shaking his head, his shoulders dropping. “No.” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper and full of disbelief.

Ed walked up to him as the others looked between themselves in confusion. “What’s wrong?” Ed asked. “You know that guy?”

Spike stared back at him, genuine fear in his eyes. It was something they rarely saw from him, even in the most dire of circumstances.

“Spike, come on!” Greg called, leaning back out the door and beckoning him with a hand. He paused as he took in Spike’s face, his eyebrows drawing closer together.

Spike shook his head, his eyes still wide. “I thought-“ he broke off, letting out a broken exhale.

“What’s going on, buddy?” Ed asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Spike suddenly stepped away, Ed’s hand falling to the side. His shoulders were back, jaw set, eyes hardened. It was so unlike Spike that it nearly pushed Ed back a step as well. “Spike?” Ed asked pointedly.

Spike looked back at him, his expression so firm that for a moment it seemed as if he was the one in charge and Ed was following his orders. “I’m sorry.” He said lowly, and walked towards the conference room. Ed stared after him, riddled with confusion. He turned back to the others, their expressions matching his own.

Jules was the first to walk up and meet him. “What just happened?” She asked.

Ed looked between her and Spike’s retreating figure. “I have no idea.”

Spike entered the conference room, feeling as if he was going to war. He did his best to temper down the anger as it surged in his chest.

“Hey, Spike.” Greg greeted him casually, but his voice was tense. He could tell something was wrong the second he laid eyes on the younger man.

“Boss.” Spike’s response was a clipped monosyllable, something so unlike him it set Greg further on edge.

“Michelangelo Scarlatti.” The man, who’d identified himself as Agent Greer exclaimed. He smiled, but it seemed too wide to be friendly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough.” Spike replied tersely.

Holleran and Greg glanced at each other at his reply with matching looks of confusion.

“For you.” Agent Greer said, passing a paper to Spike. He folded it slightly with his fingers as it exchanged hands, preventing Greg from seeing exactly what it said. From the look on Spike’s face, it wasn’t good. He dropped his hand down to his side, the edge of the paper crumpling in his fist. He said nothing, but his eyes burned as he stared back at the agent. “Oh, you’ll need a pen too.” Agent Greer said casually, reaching into his pocket. He set the pen down on the table as he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“What exactly are you here for?” Greg asked dryly, eyeing the agent as his expression began to match Spike’s.

“Just a signature.” Greer replied. “Then I’ll be out of your hair, so to speak.” The jab was not lost on anyone in the room, and only served to escalate the already tense atmosphere.

“You can’t just show up here expecting me to drop everything.” Spike hissed. The vehemence of his tone was startling to Greg, it was nothing like his normal manner- even against the worst of subjects.

Before Greer could reply, Greg cut in. “You don’t seriously expect him to sign a contract right now, do you?”

Greer laughed mirthlessly. “Oh no, you misunderstand. This isn’t a contract, it’s his letter of resignation.”

Both Greg and Holleran jumped in at once. “Hold on, you can’t walk in here and demand one of my officers resigns!” Holleran exclaimed as Greg fired off, “What the hell do you mean a ‘letter of resignation’?”

Every muscle in Spike’s body was taught as he struggled to push down the anger boiling inside him. He worked his jaw for a moment before setting the letter down on the table with a carefully precise motion.

Holleran held up a hand, stopping Greg as he continued to protest. “I think you should leave.” He said plainly, his eyes hard as he stared Greer down.

Greer shrugged. “If you’d like.” He looked directly at Spike. “But I’d suggest you sign, I can always assemble another team in your place.” The words were calculated, pushing Spike to what Greg could see was nearly becoming a breaking point.

“Are you threatening one of my officers?” Holleran asked carefully.

“No threats, merely a statement.” Greer replied. “Michelangelo is free to make his own choices.”

At that, Spike spun towards him, getting close enough to his face that when he spoke only Greg was close enough to hear him. “You bring more kids into this I will shoot you myself.” Spike growled lowly. “And that is a threat.” Greer stepped closer, invading his space but Spike didn’t back away. If anything, he leaned further in, his shoulders set back, chin held high. From his angle, Greg could see the vein in Spike’s neck pulsating, the white gathering on his knuckles as his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Greg’s eyes were wide but Greer stepped back, his smile only widening into something almost feral. “There you are, I was worried you’d gone soft.” He remarked casually. Spike scoffed, leaning back himself. He braced his hands on the table.

“Evidently the others felt the same way.” Greer continued. “You’re my last stop.”

“They signed on?” Spike asked. It didn’t sound quite like a question, more akin to bitter acceptance.

“The band’s back together.” Greer replied. Greg filed the response away mentally for further investigation. There were more people than Spike involved, people he knew who were likely under the same ‘not-threat’ he was.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Greg said, intervening. “It’s time for you to leave. We’re on shift and we have work to do.” Greer didn’t even look at him, and Greg moved to step closer as a fierce wave of protectiveness spurred him to get between Spike and whatever was happening with this man. Spike held up a hand to stop him, freezing him in his tracks.

“Spike, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Greg said quietly. Spike didn’t reply, picking up the pen. He crossed out the date on the paper, rewriting it with one number changed so that it was titled for the following day.

“Making deals now, are we?” Greer asked.

Spike licked his lips, then resolutely said, “Like he said, we’re on shift.”

“Spike.” Greg trailed off softly. He couldn’t actually be considering this.

“You always were the most resistant.” Greer said. “Fine. Finish your shift.”

Holleran locked eyes with Greg, an unreadable expression on his face but Greg assumed it matched his own. Shock, confusion, anger, something between all three. Spike just looked tired. At that moment, the fight went out of him. He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes for a brief second before he picked up the pen and signed his name at the bottom of the page. He slid the paper across the table towards Holleran.

Greer nodded, and picked up the pen, tucking it back into his pocket. “Have a good day gentlemen.” He said, and walked out the door. He marched past the rest of the team silently as they remained gathered at the front desk, eyes locked on him in matching displays of utter disbelief. Spike remained hunched over at the table, aware of his superiors’ gaze locked on him but too lost in his own thoughts to do anything about it.

“Spike, what just happened?” Greg asked. Spike remained silent and Greg reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Buddy, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Spike leaned into his hand for a second, two, then took a breath and stepped away. Something about the motion felt like he was preparing himself for the end. “I should go get ready, we’re on patrol this morning, right?” He asked. His eyes were dull.

Greg nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. Yeah we’re on patrol.”

“Okay.” Spike replied monotonously. “I’ll gear up.” He walked away, similar to the agent before him as he passed the others without a word. Instead of heading towards the gear cage, he veered right and entered the locker room. After a moment, Greg saw Ed pat Sam’s shoulder and Sam broke off, following Spike.

Greg glanced back at Holleran. “What the hell just happened?” He asked.

Holleran stared back at him. “I don’t know.” He said slowly. “There’s no record of him being on another team before this one.”

“He’s never mentioned anything to us.” Greg said. “That Agent Greer, he checked out?”

Holleran nodded. “He’s CSIS, cleared the background check we ran on him when he came in.” Greg sighed and leaned heavily on the table, shaking his head. “Look, I won’t file this right away. Talk to him, figure out what’s going on. Come back to me at the end of the day.” Holleran continued.

“Alright, yeah. Hopefully we can just shred that thing.” Greg replied, gesturing to the paper in Holleran’s hands.

“Hopefully.” Holleran echoed. He gestured with his head towards the locker room expectantly. “Go on.” Greg nodded and left, Ed already walking up to meet him.

“What was that?” Ed asked.

Greg stared back at him for a moment, his mind still reeling. “Spike quit.” He said finally. It came out more questioning than he intended.

“He quit?” Ed asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Just like that?”

“I-“ Greg broke off, trying to figure out what to say. “It didn’t sound voluntary.”

If anything, Ed looked more confused. Greg felt the same way. “What do you mean it wasn’t voluntary? Is he being removed from the team?”

Greg’s frustration was growing, “I don’t know, okay? Nothing that just happened makes any sense.”

“Alright, we’ll figure it out.” Ed said, holding his hands up to deescalate the situation. “Look, Sam went to talk to him. Whatever this is, we’ll figure out what’s going on, and we’ll fix it.”

Greg nodded. He wanted to believe Ed, but the way his gut was twisting told him a different story. He tried to play into the illusion for the time being and nodded. “Alright Eddie.” He said simply.

Sam found Spike hunched over, breathing heavily as he rubbed his right hand. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Sam asked evenly, eyeing the new dent in the thin metal of Spike’s locker.

“No.” Spike said shortly.

“You want to tell me what you’re thinking then?” Sam tried. “Seems like the locker room is taking most of your anger at the moment. How about you try me instead?”

Spike sighed, deflating as he sat heavily on the bench. “I quit.” He said softly.

“Just like that?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raising.

“Just like that.” Spike echoed bitterly.

Sam took a steadying breath. “What did they offer you?”

“A chance not to get more kids killed.” Spike replied, his voice broken, barely above a whisper.

“What does that mean Spike?” Sam pressed.

Spike sighed again, closing his eyes for a moment as if he were saving a final sliver of peace before he shoved himself upright, locking eyes with Sam. “It means I have work to do, and we’re on patrol.” He walked past Sam without another word, cracking the knuckles of his right hand by his side. Sam nodded to himself, and silently followed him out. The rest of the team was gearing up in uncharacteristic silence, Spike and Sam joining them.

“Spike, you’re with me on the West end.” Greg said. Spike almost sighed before he caught himself. He nodded instead and Greg continued. “Eddie, you and Jules take East. Sam and Raf you’re in the Corners District.”

“Alright, let’s do it!” Ed replied, his enthusiasm strained. He clapped Spike on his shoulder, nodding as he passed him on the way to the trucks. Spike forced himself to smile back, his eyes still dull. The others passed him as he remained in the gear locker, watching them go. Jules glanced uncertainly back at him before Sam nudged her forwards and she turned away.

“Come on.” Greg said gently. “Let’s hit the streets.” Spike nodded, and followed after him. Greg didn’t speak again until they were loaded in the SUV, when he removed his com and motioned for Spike to do the same. Spike exhaled sharply, pulling his com out obediently a moment later.

“What’s going on, Spike?” Greg asked simply.

“Boss…” Spike trailed off, shaking his head.

“No, don’t ‘boss’ me. Talk to me, buddy. Who was that guy?” Greg insisted.

“Look, I quit, okay?” Spike replied. “That’s it.”

“No, not okay.” Greg countered. “I’ve never heard you speak to someone like that in all the years I’ve known you. That was personal, and yet you’re still signing on with him.”

“It’s not that simple.” Spike ground out.

Greg scoffed. “Really? Because that’s how it looks. Does he have something on you? If you need help-”

Spike cut him off. “I don’t need help.” He said shortly.

“Then what do you need?” Greg asked, forcing his frustration away in favor of a softer tone. He tore his eyes away from the road to look at Spike. He was closed off, his body leaning away from Greg, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I need you to let me go.” Spike said quietly.

Greg took a sharp breath. “I can’t do that, buddy. Not until you tell me what’s going on here.”

“I can’t do that either.” Spike mumbled. If anything he shut down more, his head dropping as his shoulders sagged. They remained silent long enough that Spike turned away to look out the window, fixating his gaze on the fall leaves that gathered along the street.

“Who are the others?” Greg asked finally.

Spike’s head whipped back towards him, eyes wide as if he’d forgotten Greg had been present for that part of the conversation. He softened slightly, “Friends.” He said softly.

“Friends like Agent Greer?” Greg asked carefully.

Spike exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. “No, not like Greer. He was our handler, they were my team.” He admitted quietly.

Greg nodded along, taking mental notes as more of the story was revealed. “How many?” He pushed gently, trying his luck.

“Two, now.” Spike replied, looking back out the window. Greg would have missed his next words if he hadn’t been waiting for them. “There used to be three.”

“They died?” Greg asked.

Spike nodded. “A long time ago.”

Greg kept his tone light. “What was their name?”

This time Spike did laugh, a sardonic sound. “I can’t tell you that.” He said bitterly.

“Okay, that’s fine.” Greg said quickly, trying to salvage the conversation before Spike shut down again. “This team, you trust them?”

“Yeah.” Spike said shortly, not looking back from the window.

“Okay.” Greg relented. “And you’re-” He was cut off by Ed’s voice sounding from the on-board radio.

“Boss, hot call.” Ed announced, “We need you back on coms.” Greg sighed, reluctantly replacing his earpiece as Spike hurried to slide his back in place.

“We’re on, what’s going on Ed?” Greg said.

“Bank robbery- First and Birchwood.” Ed said. “We’re nearby.”

“Okay, we’re on our way.” Greg said, flicking the lights on as Spike turned the dial for the sirens. They remained silent for the rest of the drive, save for tactical coordinating and to clear the intersections. Spike was out of the SUV practically before they landed.

The call was over quicker than he would have preferred, though he was glad no one was hurt. The robber was barely more than a kid, only nineteen and desperate for enough money to get himself back on his feet. He was more scared of the hostages than they were of him, and gave up barely twenty minutes into negotiations. When they were done, they gathered back at the trucks.

“Alright, let’s switch it up for the next patrol, Sam, you’re with the boss. Jules and Raf, Spike you’re with me.” Ed ordered. Spike choked back another deep sigh as he stowed his gun and climbed into the passenger seat. Ed was in a moment after him, and almost as soon as the door closed Spike had the com out of his ear.

“Ed.” Spoke started, already sounding defeated. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ed dropped his own com, glancing at him for a second before his eyes returned to the road to pull out. “Well, I’m not the boss. I don’t want you to talk, I want you to listen.”

Spike sighed lightly. “Fine.” He muttered.

“Good, because I wasn’t giving you an option.” Ed stated. “Look, I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re involved in, but there’s only two things I care about. Is it safe, and is it legal?”

“It’s legal.” Spike said softly. “Technically.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed. “Technically?”

“It’s government sanctioned.” Spike replied.

Ed nodded, accepting the semi-answer. “And is it safe?”

Spike outwardly scoffed, shaking his head tiredly. “I’ll manage.”

“Not the answer I was hoping for.” Ed said dryly.

Spike shook his head again. “What do you want me to say?” He ground out, tightening a fist around the loose fabric of his pants. “You and the boss, what do you want to hear? You want me to tell you that everything’s going to be okay? It’s not, alright? Nothing’s okay and it’s not going to be.” The aggravated burst ended as quickly as it began, and Spike turned to look away wearily.

“Hey.” Ed said sharply. When he didn’t draw Spike’s attention he tried again. “Spike, look at me.” He ordered. Slowly, Spike turned back to him, his eyes still downcast. “I don’t want you to say anything but the truth.” Ed said forcefully. “I want you to let us help you. You clearly don’t want to be doing this, so why are you?”

“I don’t have a choice.” Spike admitted.

“You always have a choice.” Ed countered. “You’ve turned down dozens of agencies before, ones with much better perks. What makes this one different?”

“The others were job offers. This isn’t- this is different.” Spike sighed.

“And what happens if you don’t go?” Ed asked.

“Greer will find someone else.” Spike said sharply. “And I won’t let that happen.”

Ed raised his eyebrows at the acidity of his tone. “He’s that bad?”

Spike finally looked away. “Worse.” He murmured.

“Okay.” Ed relented, not liking his answer but knowing he couldn’t change it. “You stay in touch with us. If you need something, you call me.”

Spike nodded. “Okay.” He replied halfheartedly.

Ed remained silent for a long moment, then asked, “You won’t be able to maintain contact, will you?”

He could see the corner of Spike’s mouth turn up in a sad smile. “Nothing gets past you, huh?” Spike murmured.

“No, it doesn’t.” Ed replied. “How long are we talking? Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t know.” Spike admitted.

“Come on, you gotta give me something.” Ed practically pleaded.

“I don’t know, Ed.” Spike repeated, taking on the same tone. “I just don’t know.”

“Are you coming back?” Ed asked, his heart sinking in preparation for the answer.

Spike swallowed, his eyes fixated on the piles of leaves as they drove through the streets. Finally, he answered. “Can we please talk about something else?”

Ed sighed, his gut twisting at the reluctance to answer. He pushed it away, speaking softly. “Sure, buddy. What do you want to talk about?”

The tension seemed to melt from Spike’s shoulders. He turned back to Ed, his signature smile plastered on his face though his eyes remained tight. “How was Clark’s concert?”

Ed huffed out a laugh. “It was good.” He relented, allowing himself to slip into their routine. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse Spike the normalcy, allowing himself to indulge in it as well for whatever time they had left. The rest of their shift followed the same pattern- boring calls and nonsense conversation as they carefully tiptoed around the elephant in the room.

When they finally returned to the SRU, Ed and Greg went to find Spike, intending to invite him out to The Goose. Greg wanted to get him to open up, while Ed wanted to get him drunk enough to tell them the truth. They were still debating the merits of each plan when they walked into the locker room to find Sam holding Spike’s badge and gun.

Sam stared back at them with wide eyes. “I’m sorry.” He started. “When I got out of the shower, he was gone. He left his stuff on the bench.”

Greg pulled his cap off, dragging a hand over his head as Ed paced. “Damn it.” Ed snapped. “Did you see which way he went?”

Sam shook his head.

“Alright, you take the front, I’ll take the back.” Greg said quickly to Ed. They broke off, eventually both meeting at Spike’s parking space. There was nothing but a dry patch of asphalt where the rain had been hitting around his truck. The sparse pattern of drops implied he’d been gone for at least a few minutes.

He wasn’t at his apartment when Jules went looking later in the night. The messages on his phone went unanswered, and the resignation letter was added to his file. When they went through his locker, they only found a note with a few words. “I’m sorry. Take care of Babycakes for me. -Spike.” The letter crumpled in Greg’s fist as he read it, though he tried desperately to smooth it later when he tucked it away in his own locker. It was the last trace they received of Spike for the next three months.

Chapter Text

In terms of calls, tonight’s was supposed to be fairly simple. What was supposed to be serving a warrant for a drug house resulted in a massive firefight. More and more cops were pulled from the streets as they realized the supposed twenty or so subjects ended up being closer to fifty- all armed and not willing to let their supply go easily. Team One had split up, each taking a few officers with them as they moved through the building securing the subjects. Ed had been forced away from the men he was with, separated by a hail of gunfire that caused them to dive for cover in opposite directions.

Ed heard footsteps behind him, but as he spun around to raise his gun at the new threat, the man fell to the ground with a bullet hole between his eyes. The man’s gun clattered against the floor next to his body, and Ed knew at that moment he wouldn’t have been quick enough to stop him. “Boss, do we have someone else in here?” He asked.

“No UC’s that I know of.” Greg replied. “Why, what do you have?”

“I don’t know.” Ed replied, turning his attention back to the gunfight in front of him as he fired off a few shots of his own. “Someone just took down a subject that got the drop on me.”

“Friendly fire?” Greg questioned. “Maybe just a lucky shot.”

“Maybe.” Ed echoed, but he didn’t really believe it. He shot again, striking center mass on one of the subjects who fell dead without a sound. There were only three remaining, all of whom were quickly downed by the additional officers.

“Everyone okay?” Ed called. The cries of “No harm,” echoed through the room as the officers stood up from the flipped tables that served as their cover. Ed moved out of his hole, surveying the fallen. Only one was still alive, and he kicked the man’s weapon away before flipping him onto his stomach and securing his hands behind his back.

“Hey, I’m injured here!” The man protested angrily.

“Shut up.” Ed growled. He jerked the man up by his bicep as the other officers circled around him. “Boss, one subject coming out.” Ed reported.

“Copy that, Eddie.” Greg replied.

Ed passed the man off to a dark haired cop, “Take him outside, the rest of us will finish clearing the building.” He said curtly. As the officer began to walk away, Ed asked, “What areas are still unsecured?”

There was a beat where Greg was presumably looking over the building plans, noting the areas he’d crossed out. “Looks like just the hallway left of the room you’re in.” Greg replied. “A few storage rooms, nothing big enough for more than one or two people.”

“Alright, we’re on it.” Ed said. He motioned for the officers around them, arranging them into pairs and splitting them off with deft hand gestures. They complied automatically, exiting the room behind him and breaking apart in the hallway. It was empty at first glance as they went through it, checking the storage closets as they happened upon them.

Ed cracked one open, presenting his gun first. It landed on a younger man curled in a ball in the back corner. Ed sighed. “Are you armed?” He asked.

“No.” The man squeaked out.

“Okay, come on, get out of there.” Ed ordered halfheartedly. The man complied with shaky legs, Ed pulling him out when he got within arms reach. He pressed the man against the wall, patting him down quickly and finding nothing. He zip tied his hands behind his back and flipped him back around. Glancing down the hallway, he called, “Anything?”

“No sir.” The senior most officer replied. “Hallway and closets are cleared.”

“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Ed said. He dragged the subject along with him as they exited the building. One of the other officers quickly took him off his hands as they made it outside and steered him towards a patrol car.

Ed walked tiredly away from the building, all he wanted was to wrap up the debrief and head home, but as he made his way through the commotion his eyes widened as they fell on a familiar figure. Spike was handcuffed, being shoved forward by an officer against a patrol car hard enough that his face bounced off the frame. “Hey!” Ed yelled, changing direction with fierce steps as he stomped towards the officer, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Spike met his eyes, an unreadable expression flickering through them as he gave a minuscule shake of his head. Ed swallowed, unsure of the situation as he stopped in front of the officer.

“What, you’re up in arms about this asshole?” The officer said, his voice sounded muffled as it cut through the ringing in Ed’s ears. Spike was in front of him, after nearly three months of no contact and Ed didn’t know what to make of it. “Three of my men got shot in this raid.” The officer continued angrily.

“So we need to make the charges stick.” Ed found himself saying. “Giving them a police brutality claim isn’t going to help our case.”

“Brutality?” The officer exclaimed. “He slipped!”

“Take a walk.” Ed ordered. “I’ll take it from here.” The officer huffed angrily, but pulled back, allowing Ed to step in. As he walked away, Ed placed a hand on the back of Spike’s neck. To anyone else, it would appear as a controlling hold, but as he squeezed gently Spike relaxed, letting out a soft breath. “You okay?” Ed asked.

“I’m good.” Spike replied.

“We’ll get you checked out by EMS before we take you down to the station.” Ed said loudly, taking Spike’s arm and leading him towards the command center. As they walked, he leaned closer and muttered, “Nice shot.”

“Thanks.” Spike murmured.

“Do you have anyone else with you?” Ed asked lowly.

Spoke nodded, glancing around the scene as officers were placing subjects into patrol cars. “There.” He said softly, gesturing with his head. “Five eleven, white, brown hair. By car 57.”

Ed nodded back, “Alright stay here.” He looked around, locating an officer he didn’t recognize and waved her over. “Constable, watch this subject for a minute.” He said quickly. She nodded in response and grabbed the back of Spike’s arm to secure him. Ed jogged over to the patrol car Spike had identified. “I need to speak with this one, we’ll bring him in afterwards.” He said plainly.

The officer shrugged. “Have at him, but I don’t know what information you're going to get.”

“I’m not going to tell you shit.” The man snapped. As he said it, he glanced between Spike and Ed uncertainly.

The officer sighed, passing him off to Ed. “Like I said, lovely gentleman.” Ed nodded back and took the man by his arm, guiding him over to the truck. He picked Spike up on the way and dismissed the female officer casually.

“Alright, both of you in.” Ed ordered. He waited for them to climb up the stairs before closing the door behind him with a sigh.

Greg turned in his seat as he heard the door open, his eyes immediately falling on the men as they entered. He shot up, taking in the blood dripping down Spike’s nose and his hands cuffed behind his back. “Spike!” He exclaimed.

The corner’s of Spike’s lips curled up slightly. “Hey boss.” Greg looked between him, the unknown man, and Ed as confusion shone through his eyes.

Ed shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

“Here, turn around.” Greg said, gently pushing Spike’s shoulder to spin him around. He unlocked the cuffs, setting them on the counter behind him then pushed Spike back around as he enveloped him in a hug. Spike seemed to freeze for a moment, then slowly lifted his arms to hug him back.

“Lovely moment, but is someone going to uncuff me too?” The man asked, still hovering awkwardly near the door.

Greg pulled away, looking at Spike questioningly. “He’s with me.” Spike nodded.

Ed sighed and slowly undid the cuffs. The man pulled his arms back in front of him, rubbing his wrists with a light grimace before leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “This is your team, I’m guessing?” He asked Spike.

Spike nodded. “Yeah.” He said simply.

“Hmm.” The man remarked, nodding. “Not bad.”

Ed scoffed. “And you are?”

“Nick.” He replied simply.

Ed raised his eyebrows. “Nick? That’s it? No last name?”

“None you need to know.” Nick replied with a shrug.

Ed nodded, annoyance creeping across his face. “How about what you’re doing here?” Nick pushed himself off the counter, looking ready to give Ed’s frustration right back to him.

“Eddie.” Greg cut in quickly. “Let’s just take a beat here.” Ed made a noncommittal noise, sounding displeased but some of the tension leaked out of his shoulders. Nick leaned back against the counter, his arms returning to their crossed position over his chest.

Greg turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “Spike, are you okay?”

Spike nodded. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Greg’s mouth turned down as Ed’s eyebrows raised, neither one pleased at that answer but they accepted it for the moment. “How about you, Nick?” Greg asked carefully.

“I’m fine.” Nick replied, still defensive but seemingly more at ease.

Ed stepped further into the truck, approaching Spike. “You want to tell us what’s going on here?”

Spike sighed. “I can’t. You know that. Look, thank you for getting us out of there, but we gotta get going.”

Greg shook his head, “No, just sit down for a minute. Drink some water, eat something. You both look like you’re about to fall over. Just rest, please.”

Spike looked like he was going to argue, but after a moment he sighed, his body sagging. Greg wordlessly pushed his chair towards him and Spike took the offering. He nearly collapsed into it.

“Do you want to sit down too?” Greg asked Nick. “We don’t have to talk, just take a minute to relax.” Nick seemed to debate it, looking at the second chair almost wistfully.

“I’m good.” Nick said. Ed raised his eyebrows, looking as if he was about to make a comment when Spike spoke up.

“They’re okay.” Spike said softly. Nick remained still for a moment, then nodded and walked over to the second chair, sitting down heavily. For the first time since entering the truck, he seemed to relax, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees and letting his head hang down as he exhaled.

Greg grabbed two water bottles from the cooler and handed them to the men. “Here.” He said gently.

“Thanks.” Spike muttered, Nick echoing the sentiment. They sipped from the water bottles in silence, allowing Greg a moment to take them in.

Spike was skinnier than he’d been before. While he’d always had a slighter build than the rest of the team, his musculature had filled him out. Now, both mind and body seemed to be a ghost of himself. His muscles stood out against his skin, not from growth but from the loss of the little fat he had. His bones were more prominent, face more angular.

Nick looked to be the same age as Spike, and seemed to be in a similar state. They both sported bags under their eyes, and slouched with a wariness that signaled they hadn’t felt safe in a long time. Greg felt a sense of protectiveness over the new man, clearly he and Spike trusted each other enough to let their guard down.

Greg turned his attention back to Spike. It was hard to correlate the closed off man in front of them with the bright eyed bomb tech they knew and loved. His goofy, lopsided grin was gone, replaced by tight lips and drawn eyes.

There were so many aspects of Spike that made him who he was. His fidgeting, nimble fingers that would pick at anything they had access to, his hair that he’d run his hands through on particularly stressful days until it stood straight up in the spikes that gave him his name. The way every emotion stood out clearly on his face and showed through his eyes. Every one of his quirks that made him impossibly unique and added to his charm were gone, and before them sat a black-clad man with a carefully schooled, blank expression.

When he spoke it was clipped, the fast-talk rambling banished in favor of clear answers. His hands were still against his thighs, feet flat on the floor. It looked wrong. Even his hair looked like it had been cut, closer to being buzzed than his normal length. A thin line was missing from it along the right side, the skin of his scalp raised and red enough that while not a wound, it had just crossed the territory into being a new scar.

After the long moment of silence, Nick asked. “You want to take care of your side while we still have a few minutes?”

The words startled Greg a bit at the assumption that Spike was injured, but the way they were said eased his mind marginally. Nick’s tone was still harsh, but his eyes held genuine concern. The idea that he cared about Spike’s well being made Greg feel slightly more comfortable about letting them go, even though he’d much rather be with Spike himself. The feeling was almost immediately overshadowed by fear as Spike lifted up the edge of his shirt, his jacket falling away to reveal a large bloodstain over his right side.

“Spike, were you shot?” Ed gaped, immediately crouching down to get a better look at the damage.

“It’s fine.” Spike said passively, “Just a graze.” He glanced at Nick. “You got a kit?”

Nick shook his head. “No, cops took everything off of me.”

Spike grunted in response and glanced around the truck. His eyes fell on one of the drawers below the main table and he moved to open it up. After rummaging for a moment he pulled out a small bottle. “That’ll work.” He muttered, more to himself.

Greg stared at him in concern. “Spike, that’s super glue.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” Nick replied genuinely.

Greg stared between them for a moment before shaking his head. “No, Spike, you need to go to the hospital.”

Spike shook his head dismissively. “It’s fine, I just need a quick fix and I can finish it up later.”

Greg opened his mouth to protest further, a dozen ways to impart his desire for Spike to anything but put super glue into a fresh wound on his tongue, but he was cut off as Spike’s phone rang. Spike dug it out of his pocket, glancing at his screen before flipping it open and pressing the speakerphone as he shoved it between him and Nick.

“Heyy!” A woman’s voice came through the phone, overly cheery.

“What’s up!” Spike replied. It was such a drastic change in tone that both Ed and Greg physically startled. A moment later they realized it was code.

“You two clear?” The woman asked, suddenly much more reserved.

Spike too had immediately returned to his new normal. “Yeah, we’re clear. Got company though.”

“‘Need backup’ company?”

“No, we’re good. Just getting patched up.” Spike replied.

There was a brief pause. “Anything significant?” The woman asked.

Spike shook his head, silently huffing out a laugh that didn’t quite reach the level of humor. “Just a graze.”

“A graze?” Ed scoffed, unable to stop himself.

Silence lingered loudly on the other end for a moment then, “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Look, we were just going to scope the place out but things went downhill and we stepped in.” Spike said shortly. “No one noticed. It’s fine. In and out, and we’re back on track.”

“Yeah it sure sounds like no one noticed. You absolute dumbass.” Somehow it didn’t sound like an insult, and Spike almost smiled at her exasperated tone. Nick outright laughed, wheezing as he tried to stifle the sound.

Spike pointed an accusing finger at him. “Shut up.” He ordered, and for a brief second the bickering and prodding almost seemed right. It was a different kind of team, different people, but wholly Spike. A moment later it was gone. “We’ll meet you at exfil.” Spike said.

“Copy that.” The woman replied. “Try not to get into any more firefights.”

“No promises.” Both Spike and Nick answered simultaneously. The woman sighed, then the line clicked and she was gone.

“You good?” Nick asked. Spike nodded, already tucking the corner of his shirt under his chin as he unscrewed the top of the glue bottle. “Alright, I’m going to get our weapons, meet me when you’re done.” Nick said. He pushed himself up, tucking the water bottle in his back pocket.

Ed stepped marginally in front of him. “Where are you getting your weapons back from?” He asked carefully.

“Relax, we’re not robbing your officers.” Nick said defensively. “We stashed them in the warehouse.”

“You went in unarmed?” Greg asked.

“No, we took the subject’s guns.” Spike replied evenly. “Better if the bullets match, right?” Ed stared down at him, his eyebrows raised. Greg was sure his expression was an exact match.

“Thanks for the water.” Nick said, sliding past Ed and out the door.

“He knows that building is swarming with cops, right?” Ed asked.

“He’ll be fine.” Spike said. He bit back a wince as he pinched his skin together.

“Spike-“ Greg ground out. “Will you please stop that?”

Spike sighed lightly, his eyes downcast. “I’ll leave the van.” He said, his tone taking on an air of bitter defeat.

“And go to a hospital?” Ed asked pointedly.

“I told you, we don’t have time.” Spike shot back. “If you don’t want to see it, I’ll go.”

“No, Spike, stay.” Greg said quickly. “We don’t want to push you out, we just would rather have it taken care of properly.”

Spike took a stabilizing breath, reeling in his defensiveness. “I just need it to hold together for a bit. I’ll stitch it up when I get to-“ he paused, correcting himself, “where we’re going.”

“Alright.” Ed said, cutting off what Greg was about to say. “It’ll stay together better if you hold it at both ends. I’ll glue.” Any care was better than none, and Ed knew both he and Greg wanted to hold on to Spike for as long as possible. As long as he was in front of them, they could keep him safe. Even if it meant going along with him supergluing himself back together.

Spike’s shoulders sagged slightly, relief filtering through his eyes. “Okay.” He said softly, passing the bottle to Ed. He slowly pinched the edges of the torn flesh together, biting his bottom lip. Ed began to squeeze the glue into it, Spike holding pressure on the skin as he went, inhaling sharply.

“You’re already in the area.” Greg started carefully. “Why not spend the night at my apartment? You and Nick- safe place to sleep, an actual meal. You look exhausted, Spike.”

Spike closed his eyes for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching. When he looked back at Greg he quietly said, “I can’t. We-“

“Don’t have time?” Ed finished expectantly.

“Yeah.” Spike breathed out warily.

“What are you doing here, Spike?” Ed asked. He finished lining the wound with glue, and began to fan it with a hand to speed the drying process while Spike continued to hold it together.

“Like I told R- my other partner, we heard the radio chatter. I was in the area, so we stepped in to help.” Spike said. His slip ups weren’t lost on either of the two men. Either exhaustion or pain were reducing his filter, neither of the options preferable.

“Just like that?” Greg questioned cautiously.

Spike sighed, then nodded. “Yeah. Really, boss, we just happened to be nearby. It sounded like it was getting bad fast so we wanted to help.” The title wasn’t missed by the other two either.

“And you can’t stay for a bit?” Greg asked.

“I’m fine.” Spike replied, it seemed to be his new mantra and just like that he was closed off again. He let go of the wound, deeming it satisfactorily dry, and let his shirt fall back into place.

“You look like shit.” Ed said bluntly. His eyes raked over Spike’s form, taking in the changes that he presumed Greg had already noticed. Spike really did look pale with new scars stark against his skin. His face was wan, all dark circles and faded bruises.

“It’s been a busy three months.” Spike muttered.

Greg stared back at him, eyes open and pleading. “What are you doing out there, buddy?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” Spike said shortly, his eyes downcast.

“Then how about what you were doing?” Ed pressed. “I mean CSIS? Since when do you work for them?”

Spike swallowed. There was a long pause and Greg could almost see his thoughts flickering behind his eyes as he decided what to reply with. Finally, he admitted, “I haven’t for a long time.”

“How long?” Greg pressed, desperate for some explanation. “We’ve had you for years. Were you moonlighting?”

Spike shook his head tiredly. “No, it was before I was a cop.”

Greg nodded, somewhat relieved by the fact that he hadn’t missed such a major aspect of Spike’s life. His relief prevented him from coming to the conclusion Ed realized a moment later.

“Spike,” Ed started deliberately, “didn’t you start the academy when you were eighteen?”

For the first time since he’d entered the truck, Spike began to fidget. He rolled his hands over themselves, picking at the loose skin around his nails and running his thumb over the gun calluses that had become more pronounced in the past three months. “Yeah.” He said so softly that Greg nearly missed it. A shock of dread ran through his chest at the implication.

Just as carefully as Ed, Greg asked, “Are you saying you were underage when you worked for CSIS?”

Spike nodded prompting Ed’s eyes to widen. “Is that even legal?” He asked, distressed.

“Anything’s legal if the government’s making you do it.” Spike said bitterly.

Greg’s next words were measured. “Spike, how old were you?”

Spike worried his bottom lip to the point it opened an old scab, fresh blood tingling his tongue with iron. “Fourteen.” He answered in a broken whisper.

“My son is fifteen.” Ed said in disbelief, his tone an echo of Spike’s as he stared down in muted anguish. “Are you telling me you were younger than Clark?”

“Yeah.” Spike muttered. “I know. It’s weird, you know, looking back on it. Even now it seems like what we were doing made sense, like we were old enough to handle it. But then I look at Clark and he looks so young, and I don’t know how to make it make sense.”

“It doesn’t, Spike. You were a kid too. You deserved to be safe.” Greg pressed.

“I know.” Spike relented. “But that’s why we’re back. To finish it, once and for all. To stop it before anyone decides that sticking more kids in this fight is going to make it better.”

“That’s what Greer threatened you with.” Greg said shortly, the pieces falling into place. “If you didn’t go back, he was going to make a new team.”

Spike nodded. “I couldn’t let that happen. The things we went through, the things we did. I couldn’t let some other kid go through it.”

“Why?” Greg whispered.

Spike stared back at him. “What do you mean why? Because I’d rather deal with it myself than let a kid face this on their own?” He was escalating, riling up at the thought that his actions were disapproved of.

Greg fought to keep himself calm, to deescalate the situation. He held out his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean to disparage your efforts.” He said evenly. “I understand why you’re doing this and it makes total sense.” He hated the words as he said them, nothing about the situation made sense. The idea of a fourteen year old Spike touting guns and staring down subjects made him sick but he continued past the rising nausea. “I’m just wondering why you were doing work for CSIS when you were fourteen.”

Spike seemed to deflate. “We were going after a human trafficking ring.” He said quietly. “Sex trade funding terrorism. Greer used to say that fourteen was the perfect age- young enough to pass as kids, but old enough to follow orders.”

Now Ed was escalating. “Pass as kids?” He growled. “Are you telling me…” He trailed off, unable to bring himself to put the words out into the world.

Spike nodded, aware of where the sentence had been going. “We did undercover work.” The delicate phrasing couldn’t cover the acid on his tongue as he spoke.

Ed growled, a violent noise coming from deep in his chest. Greg contrasted him with a pained, choked off sound. Somehow they met in the middle, both staring at Spike with wide eyes. Spike only looked away, his eyes fixating on the ground.

Spike was the first to speak after the heavy silence. “It took four years, but we did it. Brought down the head of the ring, stopped the funding for a while. No telling how many attacks we managed to put a halt to.” His words were weak, but there was a muted sense of pride behind them.

Greg swallowed thickly. “You never should have been put in that situation, no matter how effectively you handled it.”

Spike looked back at him finally, a soft smile on his face. “I know.” He said simply.

“If I see Greer again, I’m going to kill him.” Ed spat.

At his words, Spike laughed. An honest to God laugh that split his face further until it became a true smile. The clear sound nearly pushed Greg back a step with the swelling triumph in his chest. It was a horrible, horrific situation but Spike’s laughter seemed to destroy it in a second. He couldn’t help but smile back. He wanted to hold onto the moment forever. Spike was back, sitting in front of him, smiling exactly like he should be. Too few seconds later, it ended, and Spike was sober again. “I’ll keep you two apart then.” Spike said.

“You’re defending him?” Ed asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh I’ve threatening to kill him myself.” Spike assured him, a jovial lit to his voice for another second. “But he’s not worth you going to prison over.”

“Who says I’ll get caught?” Ed replied. The words were stern, but there was a soft joking quality to them. That feeling returned to Greg’s chest. This was how it was supposed to be. He couldn’t bear to break it, but the question had to be asked.

Hating every moment of it, Greg said, “You’re still going back though?”

Spike nodded, the light fading from his eyes a physical blow to Greg’s chest.

“Nick, and the woman on the phone, they’re part of your team?” Greg asked.

“Yeah. It’s the three of us.” There was a sad quality to Spike’s voice that Greg couldn’t quite identify.

“Do you trust them?” Ed asked.

Again, Spike nodded. “Look, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but before I was a part of your team, I was a part of theirs. I trust them with my life.”

“And Agent Greer?” Greg asked tersely.

Spike’s jaw worked, anger flickering through his eyes for a moment. “He isn’t a part of my team.” He bit back. After a moment he exhaled heavily and continued more casually. “He’s just our handler. We all hated him for what he did to us, but we had each other. We got through it. We don’t really need him anymore, he’s just there to follow our progress and say it’s government sanctioned.”

“You’re on your own.” Greg inferred.

“Pretty much.” Spike replied. “We’ve got access to CSIS resources but it’s just the three of us.”

“Are you going to be able to pull that off?” Ed asked carefully. It wasn’t cautious enough to prevent the narrowing of Spike’s eyes.

“We can handle it.” Spike said tightly.

“So you’re just going to go off on your own, no backup and take down whoever you’re after yourselves?” Ed pressed.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” Spike snapped back. He stood up, turning to face Ed. His words were more evenly measured, but they held an undercurrent of anger. “You think we can’t handle it?”

“No one’s saying that.” Greg cut in steadily. “We just want to know that if things go bad you’ve got help.”

Spike swallowed, but he didn’t relent. “I’ve got my team.” He said slowly. It sent a stab through Greg’s heart to hear the words and know he wasn’t referring to the SRU.

“There’s three of you.” Ed argued. “That doesn’t provide any coverage if you go down together.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Spike spat. “Think about Clark. Would you want him doing this? We were sold Ed, just to gather information on the buyers. If I don’t stop this now they’re going to say ‘it worked once, why not do it again’ and force kids just like Clark back into it. The cycle will never end unless we stop it. Which one of us would you rather have doing it?” As exhausted as he looked, Spike was nearly yelling by the end of it.

“That’s not fair.” Ed said lowly.

“No, it’s not. But that’s life. And someone has to make the hard choices so it might as well be me.” Spike’s words were still violent, but his posture weakened, weary as he hovered over the chair looking like he wanted nothing more than to collapse into it.

“We all understand the stakes here, but please, Spike, let us in.” Greg pushed, steering away from the negotiating tone as the sentence unfurled in a plea to take the proverbial extended hand.

“You can’t.” Spike said shortly.

Ed shook his head. “I won’t accept that. You’re out there on your own against God knows what and none of us can help you!”

“I was on my own every time we had a bomb call and none of you seemed to mind then!” Spike argued.

Ed scoffed, turning away slightly. “That’s not fair either. You know we hated sending you off on your own.”

Finally, Spike relented. His eyes softened, shoulders slouching. “I know.” He breathed out. “I’m sorry, Ed. But you sent me off anyway because it was your job, and it was mine. And it’s the same thing now.”

“We just want to help you.” Greg emphasized. “Let us in, Spike. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.”

“I can’t.” The words were a broken admittance. A moment later, Spike’s phone buzzed and he tore his eyes away from Greg’s to glance at it. “I have to go.” He said quietly. “Nick’s waiting for me.”

“You don’t have to go.” Ed muttered. “Just stay here.”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t have that luxury.” He met Greg’s eyes again, a sorrowful look that rang too close to goodbye.

“Come back to us.” Greg said. He didn’t care if it sounded like begging. It was.

“I don’t know if I can.” Spike admitted softly.

“Let us help. We’ll find a way through this. Backup, support, whatever you need.” Greg promised fiercely.

“It’s not just that, I-“ Spike broke off with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. Greg waited in silence, allowing him the space to continue. Finally, Spike did. “I’m not the same person. I have to be someone else now. Someone I haven’t been in a long time, and I thought I could leave it behind but now… Now it’s back again and I don’t know if I can change it.”

“Whatever you’ve had to do, whoever you’ve had to become, it doesn’t change anything.” Ed swore. The words carried more weight from his mouth. More than anyone, Ed understood the hard choices. He knew what it meant to take lives in the gray area, knew the pressure of changing his mindset at the drop of a hat. “You come back to us. And if you get over your head, you call me.”

Spike nodded, his jaw working as his bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly. “Okay, Ed.” The words fell flat to all their ears. There wasn’t more to say, so Ed settled for pulling Spike into a crushing hug. Spike let himself fall into it, savoring the last moments of peace.

When they broke apart, Greg moved in for a hug of his own. Mouth next to Spike’s ear, he whispered, “You’re not alone, buddy, no matter where you are.” He felt Spike’s breath hitch but he didn’t make a sound. A moment later Spike pulled away, righting himself as his face went blank, any trace of emotion vanquished. He offered them a small smile that didn’t meet his eyes as he walked out the door. The sound of it closing behind him echoed in the gaping cavern of Greg’s chest.

The two remaining men lingered in silence for a long moment, sorting through the many emotions garnered by the elevated conversation and the implications it posed. Finally, Ed said, “Do you think he believes us?”

“What?” Greg asked, broken out of his stupor by Ed’s voice.

“Do you think he knows we’re on his side?” Ed pressed.

Greg sighed heavily, leaning against the counter as he allowed it to take most of his weight. “I don’t know, Eddie.” He answered earnestly. “I hope so.” They lapsed back into silence until Inspector Stainton poked his head in to call for Ed.

“You know, I thought you might be in here but I really hoped I was wrong.” He said curtly. “You know better than to talk to people before you’re cleared.”

“Sorry.” Ed said with a shrug, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic.

“There was an emergent situation that required our attention.” Greg said diplomatically.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Stainton sighed, pointing a finger at Greg. “You know, you make my job ten times harder. Come on Constable, let's go.”

Greg nodded at Ed, who obediently followed after Stainton, though he leaned back through the doorway to roll his eyes. Greg choked down a laugh, but as the door closed once again he settled into the heavy silence. He thought back on the days when Spike had been with them, piecing the past together in his mind.

It was amazing, how with everything Spike had seen he hadn’t lost the childlike innocence he held. He never stopped believing that people were good. That there was a reason they did bad things, and it wasn’t simply a part of them. As more of the story unfolded, Greg’s respect for Spike’s beliefs deepened. He’d seen the worst of humanity, far deeper and more horrific than the bombers and shooters they chased day after day, and he still kept his hope through it all. But this mission, whatever he was facing, had finally taken all the light from him and the respect Greg had gave way to rage.

He couldn't tame his anger, not in the face of their new reality. Greer, CSIS, the entirety of the Canadian government had taken so much from him. That innocence he’d maintained through the worst of circumstances had been snuffed out and to Greg there was no more unforgivable crime.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense in some sick way. The childlike wonder and need for approval- they were both things Spike had likely been denied in formative years. When he should have been going to school and being praised by his parents for his report cards, he was chasing pedophiles and terrorists with no one but Greer to support him.

Despite the delay, SIU cleared Ed quickly. Between the many officers' statements, no one wanted to be held up longer than they had to. Ed was out within thirty minutes. He found Hollern and Ed talking as he exited the interview room.

“Just who I was looking for!” Holleran called, beckoning Ed over with a wave. Ed huffed out a breath and headed towards them. They resumed their conversation as Ed neared, and he caught the disbelieving question as he sided up next to his boss.

“Sorry, how many people did you say were taken down by friendly fire?” Greg was asking.

“Sixteen.” Hollers replied. “Not including the eight found unconscious, or the four kneecapped.”

Ed let out a low whistle.

Holleran nodded. “My thoughts exactly. You wouldn’t have any insight on that, would you?”

Ed shrugged. “I guess they’re particularly bad shots.” There was a surge of pride in his chest. Spike didn’t get many chances to demonstrate his tactical skills, and they’d clearly been better than anticipated.

“I suppose so.” Holleran said shortly. “And every one of the fatalities being near a cornered officer had nothing to do with it.”

“We must have gotten lucky.” Greg said, giving a slight shake of his head.

Holleran stared back at him. “In my experience, luck doesn’t come that way too often. From the transcripts, you seemed to think there was someone else there as well.” He directed his attention towards Ed.

Ed only shrugged. “Not that I recall. Like the boss said, we got lucky.”

Holleran nodded. “I see.” He said dryly. His eyes softened slightly, though his lips were still tight. “How’s that luck doing now?”

“I’ll let you know when we find out.” Greg replied carefully.

Holleran seemed to accept his answer with a curt nod. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” He said, “Get some sleep.”

“Yes sir.” Ed replied, waiting until he was a safe distance away before turning to Greg.

He’d clearly been waiting for the moment to speak as well. “Sixteen?” Greg whispered lowly.

Ed shook his head, eyes wide and bright. “Glad Spike is on our side.” He replied.

“I mean, we know he can hold his own, but that many? That’s leagues beyond what most of our guys could handle, even with a partner.” Greg continued.

Ed nodded along. “Exactly what I was thinking. The two of them took down twenty eight subjects and we relegated Spike to the truck how many times?”

Greg let out a disbelieving laugh. “Maybe we need to reevaluate when he comes back.”

Ed blinked back at him, a sinking feeling in his stomach he couldn’t quite describe. “Yeah.” He echoed. “When he comes back.”

Chapter Text

Ria stared down the two men as they slid into the car, Spike having called shotgun only a moment before. “That was dumb.” She said curtly, before either had a chance to get a word in.

Nick let out a long groan, flopping down to lay across the back seat. “Tell me about it.” He sighed. “We go from stealing a flash drive to throwing ourselves into a gunfight.”

“Look, they needed help.” Spike argued. “I mean, look at how many cops we saved just by catching the targets they didn’t.”

“Still dumb.” Nick replied in a mirror of Ria’s sentiment.

Spike leaned against the window tiredly as Ria pulled the car out into the street. “Yeah, well you didn’t have to come.” He shot back.

“Like I was going to leave you on your own, Mikey.” Nick replied casually, still lying down.

Ria caught it as she glanced in the rearview mirror. “Come on, sit up.” She ordered. “The last thing we need is to get pulled over for you not wearing a seatbelt.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nick muttered dismissively, though he dragged himself up and clicked the belt into place. He sighed heavily. “Did you check the drive?” He asked after a long moment.

“Uh huh.” Ria replied. “It checked out. Most of the locations of the storage houses with the kids are on it.”

“Most?” Spike asked, lifting his head to look at her.

“There’s a few I know to be missing.” Ria replied. “They're on our other files but not in the drive.”

“Maybe they’ve been decommissioned?” Nick asked hopefully.

Ria clucked her tongue. “Unlikely.”

“How many are we looking at?” Spike asked.

It was Ria’s turn to sigh. “Across Northern America and Europe? Hundreds.”

“Shit.” Nick breathed out.

“Yep.” Ria replied, the same incredulity coloring her voice.

“How the hell are we going to pull this off?” Spike murmured, more to himself as he kept his gaze locked on the passing snowbanks.

Ria shook her head, making the turn onto a darkened side street. “I don’t know.” She admitted.

“I mean, we can always do what Greer wants us to do.” Nick answered. A second later he barked out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement.

Spike couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Yeah, right.” He shot back.

Nick sobered up, taking a deep breath. “Seriously, though. I mean there's four major countries involved in this, we don’t have the manpower to cover them all, even if we just said screw it and each took one.”

Ria glanced at Spike. “You think your people would help?” She asked cautiously.

Spike pulled away from the window, sitting upright as he shot her a tense look. “No.” He said quickly. “I don’t want to involve them in this.”

“I can call on some of my old teams within CSIS, but our best bet might be coordinating with local LEOs.” Ria said softly. “We have a KOSO on Amir but the rest of his people need to be arrested.”

“Do they?” Nick drawled.

“Yes.” Spike replied immediately.

Ria sighed, “There’s hundreds of them, Nick. We can’t kill all of them, it’s just not feasible.”

“How about Interpol?” Spike asked. “Nick, I’m sure you could call in a few favors with them.”

Nick sighed but nodded his head. “Yeah, I can reach out.”

“I can try American Intelligence.” Ria offered. “And the FBI.” She pulled to the side, lining up the car with the curb and turned it off. “Come on, let’s finish this conversation inside. Too damn cold out here.”

Nick made a noise of agreement and hopped out of the car, Spike and Ria following a moment later. They made their way into the seemingly decrepit warehouse. Inside it was much nicer, having been supplied with a few couches and tables. The kitchen was little more than a microwave, an assortment of kitchenware and a knife block spread across various folding tables, but it was enough. Ria had even hung a strand of Christmas lights from the steel beams and they shone brightly over the largest couch. She collapsed onto it with a satisfied groan as she grabbed a blanket that had been cast over the edge and spread it on top of her.

Spike took a seat at the kitchen table, reaching into the cardboard box nearby as he grabbed a bottle of vodka. He took two long sips, grimacing as the alcohol burned at his lip, then set the bottle aside.

“Here.” Nick said, tossing a suture kit at Spike. His expression softened as Spike caught the black bag with one hand, grimacing slightly. “Do you want me to do it?” Nick offered.

Spike shook his head. “I got it.” He unzipped the kit, spilling its contents onto the table. Selecting a curved needle and a small packet of thread, he carefully tore both packages open. He leaned his head to the side and bit the neckline of his shirt, lifted the edge up, then grabbed the still-open bottle of vodka and splashed it over the large gash. He huffed out a sharp breath between the fabric in his teeth, eyes closing tightly for a moment before he reopened them and grabbed the needle and thread. He put the two together, and brought them to his side.

“So Interpol.” Spike started, his voice wavering as he attempted to distract himself from the sharp pain in his side. He swallowed thickly as he pulled the thread taught and came down a second time to pierce his skin with the needle.

“Yeah. We should be able to get them on our side, but we need something to offer them.” Nick said. “I can cash in some favors, but not enough to get the kind of boots on the ground we need.”

“What if we offer one of our targets?” Ria suggested.

Nick hummed for a moment, “Maybe.” He said hesitantly. “It would have to be someone worth having.”

Ria sat up on the couch, pulling a cardboard box out from under the side table. She flipped through the files stacked on top of each other, settling on one in the middle before she pulled it out. “Alarie?” She asked. “He’s known for ties to trafficking groups, half of Europe’s after him.”

“He’ll never talk if he thinks he’s getting a fair trial.” Spike remarked.

Ria scoffed. “Since when are you concerned about being honest with targets- sorry subjects.” She corrected jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Spike muttered, tying off the end of the thread as he sewed the last stitch. “So we don’t tell him.”

Nick nodded. “Works for me. He should be arriving in Canada tomorrow, I can intercept.”

“No, I’ll take him.” Ria said, shaking her head. “You’re too far into the Baron investigation, stick with him. We need to know where Amir’s product is going.”

“You know what you’re looking for with Alarie?” Nick asked as he walked over to the couch and took the man’s file from her. He thumbed through it, briefly familiarizing himself with him.

“Yes.” Ria sighed. “I’ve read all these asshole’s files. He’s got transaction information that’ll tie him to the storage sites.”

“No way he gives them all up.” Spike said shortly. “Nick, can you grab me a bandage?”

“On it.” Nick replied. He headed towards a far table, digging through the stacked files and boxes until he found the right one. He pulled out a few gauze pads and kerlix then made his way back to Spike, passing them off without a word.

“Thanks.” Spike muttered, tearing the packets open with his teeth.

Nick grunted in response, then turned his attention back to Ria. “He doesn’t need to tell us anything, we just need his data drive.”

Ria sighed. “If he’s got everything stored, do we really need him alive?” She asked tiredly. “It’s better for the world if I just shoot him, let’s be honest.”

“Bargaining chip, Ria.” Nick groaned. “Remember?”

Ria made a noncommittal noise, but settled. “Alright so I’ll take Alarie, and you’ll take Baron. Mike, you up for Faraq?” She asked.

Spike tucked the end of the bandage under its stands, having already wrapped it around his torso. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He said. “He should be easy- too confident to think he needs protection.”

“The best kind, overconfident and under-educated.” Nick remarked. “He’s in charge of Amir’s weapon distribution, right?”

Spike nodded. “Yep, and Guns and Gangs has been on him for months. With the head gone, the rest of his operation will be a nice present for them when this is all over.”

“Christmas gift for your buddy there?” Ria asked jokingly, wiggling her eyebrows at Spike.

Spike huffed out a laugh. “Whatever keeps the peace.” He replied. He froze for a moment as the words left his mouth, hand hovering over the garbage bag where he’d reached to throw away the packaging.

“You good?” Nick asked, stepping forward.

Spike let the trash drop from his hand, shaking his head. “Fine.” He said quickly, “Just pulled at the wound.” He sat back up, offering a small smile.

“Alright, so we’ve all got our targets.” Ria said, filling the space Spike’s hesitance had created. “We should go out at the same time, keep anyone from talking to each other.”

“So tomorrow night, when Alarie touches down?” Nick asked.

Spike shook his head. “No, we should let him settle first, get comfortable. When his guard is down, we'll strike.”

“He’s got enemies here, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Ria asked.

Spike moved his head back and forth as he pondered the risk versus reward. Nick continued the conversation in his indecisiveness. “That might be better, actually.” Nick said. “If he’s got guys after him, he might be looking for them instead of us. What if we give it a few days instead?”

Ria nodded. “That’s a good point, but it gives them time to talk.”

“How much talking are we expecting, though?” Spike asked. “I mean, Faraq is pretty much isolated anyway with his weapons trade, he only uses Amir to bankroll the operation. Alarie is isolated too, he maintains as little contact as possible to keep himself clean.”

“True.” Nick remarked. “Baron is the only one who is involved with everyone, his drug trade gives him ears all over.”

“So we take him first.” Ria said. “Do him tomorrow, and Faraq and Alaire together once we let him sweat for a bit. In the meantime we work on expanding our contacts.”

“That’ll be good.” Spike said. He looked to Nick, “After you take Baron, you can ship out to the UK and start talks with Interpol while Ria and I game plan for Alarie and Faraq.”

“They might not be willing to do too much collaboration without Alarie in their hands.” Nick said hesitantly.

“We’ll get him.” Ria said firmly. “Have them look at our track record. We don’t make promises we won’t keep.”

“We can’t let it go for too long, though.” Spike said lowly. “If Greer catches wind of what we’re doing…” He trailed off, allowing the permeating silence to carry the unspoken threat looming over their heads.

“I know.” Ria said. “We’ll give it a few days, let Alarie get situated, and then we’ll get moving.”

“Alright.” Spike agreed.

Nick blew out a heavy breath, walking past Spike to grab a bottle of water and a bag of chips. “Sounds like a plan. Now that we’ve got that figured out- I’m going to bed.”

Ria raised her eyebrows at his selection. The air was still heavy with the danger hanging over them, but she couldn’t let the moment of levity drift past. “Dinner of champions?” She joked.

Nick laughed mockingly, falling into her misdirection. “Well you ate all the pizza, it’s not like we have a lot of options.”

“Yeah.” Ria sighed. “Sorry. I was hungry.”

“I’ll survive.” Nick said shortly, though his eyes held a twinkle of humor. He tousled her hair as he walked behind the couch, laughing when she pushed him away, and disappeared to the back rooms where they’d set up some mattresses on the floor.

Ria looked back at Spike, her grin fading as Nick left the room. “You okay?” She asked softly.

Spike’s head shot back up to look at her. “Yeah I’m fine.” He answered quickly.

“Mike.” Ria sighed. “Come on, it’s me. I know seeing your old team had to be hard.”

Spike shook his head. “It’s not something you have to worry about.”

“I worry because it’s you.” Ria replied.

Spike exhaled sharply. He pushed himself up from the chair and grabbed a bottle of water for himself. “You want one?” He offered lamely.

“Sure.” Ria replied. Spike grabbed a second one and made his way over to her, sitting heavily on the opposite end. He passed the bottle down, arm falling weakly onto the couch once it left his hand.

“You sure you're okay?” Ria pressed.

“They keep offering to help.” Spike muttered. “After everything, they still want to help me.”

“They care about you.” Ria said gently. “I mean it’s been ten years since the four- three of us worked together, and you and Nick still dropped everything to come back. Maybe it’s the same with them. They seem like good people.”

“They are.” Spike said gently, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. He leaned his head back against the puffy fabric of the couch, closing his eyes as he exhaled deeply.

“So maybe you should let them in?” Ria offered hesitantly.

Spike worried his lower lip, opening his eyes to look sidelong at her as he shook his head. “We’re in enough trouble, going against Greer like this. He’ll find out eventually. I don’t want them involved when he does.”

“I get what you’re saying.” Ria agreed. “It’s complicated by the fact that they know you, that makes it harder to clean up if this goes south. But you need to think about this rationally, they could be useful when we bring Amir’s operation down.”

Spike sighed. “I know. Rationally, I get it. But I can’t do that to them. I mean, God only knows what Greer’s going to do to us, but he could have them fired. I can’t take that away from them. They live for this job.”

“If we don’t get help, we might not live through this.” Ria said, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you really think we can do this on our own?”

Spike sighed again, sitting up and leaning his arms against his legs. He dropped his head into his hands, dragging his fingers through his hair roughly. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “Let’s see what we get from the new targets. Get Interpol and the FBI on our side. We’ll take it from there.”

“Okay.” Ria relented. She slid closer, putting a warm hand on his back. “I’m going to go to bed. Don’t stay up too late. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”

Spike nodded as she walked away, the ghost of her hand lingering where it had brought some measure of familiar comfort.

Chapter Text

Ria slid through the hallways, sticking to shadows and corners as she swept the building in search of Alarie. Their plan had been solid, she and Mike had found a gala Alarie was planning on attending. With him out of his safehouse, it was the perfect time to strike. Mike was already gone, having left to secure Faraq, when Ria went out. It had been a spectacular plan which was instantly ruined when the men who were after Alarie found it a good one as well. She’d secured one of them already, dumping him in a boiler room on her way to find Alarie. As she secured him, she recognized his tattoo as being from a French gang, one of many who were after him, but filed it away as not-import-right-now information. The gang provided a small hindrance, but the plan still could have gone off without a hitch if one of those idiots hadn’t decided to fire a gun.

Ria stopped short as she heard the soft footfalls of someone in boots attempting to move stealthily. From the volume, they were still a few meters behind her so she stopped, tucking herself behind an arch while she waited to grab him.

As he rounded the corner, Ria grabbed the barrel of his gun, yanking it around to offset his balance. As anticipated, he refused to release his weapon and the momentum made him stumble around the corner. She locked one ankle around his leg, sweeping it out from under him as she shoved his gun in the opposite direction of her body. He toppled to the side, catching himself on one knee as he swung his gun upwards, striking her on the bottom of her chin. She stumbled back a few steps and he raised his gun towards her. Before it was fully aligned, she swerved to the side, launching herself full force into him. He grunted as her shoulder collided with his sternum but he didn’t lose his footing on the ground. He let his gun fall to the side, suspended by the strap around his shoulder and shot to his feet. As she flew past he grabbed her arm, twisting it around her back and forcing it upward. She bent at the waist, using the angle to keep her shoulder from dislocating and swung her elbow back to land a blow in his stomach. He didn’t budge, save for a soft grunt, only forcing her arm upwards more to try and force her to the ground.

“Enough.” He said gruffly. “It’s over.”

“You know, I was just thinking the same thing.” Ria replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

She kicked her left leg back, colliding sharply with his knee and as it weakened slightly, his grip on her arm loosened just enough. She pushed up with her right leg, launching her body to the side. Rather than twisting her arm out of his hold, she rotated her body around her shoulder in a loose flip and once rotated, threw her arm back to break his grip. She carried the momentum around, her body sliding behind him and before her left leg even touched the ground she kicked again at the same, still unstable, knee. The man’s leg buckled and she shoved him forward with her left arm, fingers curling tightly around the back of his vest to hold him in place as she drew her gun and pressed it at the back of his neck.

He struggled for a moment, ready to continue fighting back but she bent him over further, shoving the barrel of the gun against the base of his skull hard enough for him to feel her intention. He froze, and slowly put his hands out to the side. “Let’s talk about this.” He said slowly.

Ria stared down at him, narrowing her eyes as she read the embroidered name on the back of his uniform. “Lane?” She asked, “Ed Lane?”

“Yes.” Ed replied carefully. “I’m with the SRU.”

“You know Mike Scarletti?” She asked.

“Never heard of him.” Ed replied quickly, a sinking feeling in his gut that another person was after Spike.

“You call him ‘Spike’, right?” Ria asked. “That ring any bells?”

“I don’t know who you are, but you keep him out of this.” Ed said darkly. He tensed his legs, readying himself for a fight he hoped to God he’d win, when Ria pulled the gun away and stepped back. He didn’t hesitate and spun around, his gun drawn and pointed at her chest. “Drop the weapon.” He ordered.

Ria only grinned back at him. “Now’s probably a bad time to tell you we’re on the same side, right?” She asked cheekily.

“Drop the weapon.” He repeated, enunciating every word clearly. Slowly, she lowered it so that it was pointed towards the ground and tossed it towards him.

“Now can we talk?” Ria asked.

“Up against the wall.” Ed replied. She sighed, and turned towards the wall, pressing her front against it and placing her hands on the back of her head. He pulled them down behind her back and zip tied them together tightly before patting her down for weapons. “One subject secure.” He said through the coms. He pulled a second gun out of the back of her waistband, then a knife at her hip, and finally a third gun from her right ankle. He tucked the weapons away in his gear and spun her around to face him.

Before he had a chance to speak, Ria said, “In my defense, the assailants are wearing SRU gear too.”

Ed stared back at her, his initial question forgotten for a more pressing one. “They’re dressed as SRU?”

“Yep.” Ria replied, popping the ‘P’. “Badges and everything.”

“Ed, who do you have?” Greg’s voice came through over the coms.

“Female subject.” Ed replied shortly, “She’s secure.”

“You got a name?” Greg asked.

“Haven’t gotten there yet.” Ed replied. “More importantly, she’s saying that the subjects are wearing SRU gear.”

“Well that’s problematic.” Sam’s voice came through Ed’s ear.

“Alright, go careful guys.” Greg said, “We’re still the only team here but make sure you can see each other’s faces.”

“Copy that.” Jules and Raf echoed.

Ed turned back to the girl. “You’re not with them?”

She shook her head, “Like I said, we’re on the same side.”

“Yet you’re pointing your gun at a cop.” Ed replied.

“I told you, everyone’s dressed the same.” Ria shot back, frustration seeping into her voice. “I didn’t know you were real until I saw your name.”

“How do you know who I am?” Ed pressed.

“I’ve heard stories.” She replied.

“Well I’m at a disadvantage here, you know who I am, and I don’t know you.” Ed said. “How about we start with a name?”

“Run my number.” Ria said. “94372.”

Ed sighed, aggravation taking over him. “Boss, did you catch the number?” He asked shortly.

“Running it now.” Greg replied. Ed and the girl stared each other down for a few tense seconds until Greg said, “Eddie, it’s coming back restricted.”

“Restricted?” Ed repeated, looking questioningly at the girl. “Well get it unrestricted, I’d like to know who we're dealing with.”

“Already on it.” Greg replied.

“A name.” Ed said through gritted teeth.

She sighed. “Ria.” She ground out.

“What’s the number?” Ed ground out. When Ria remained silent, he continued, “Fine, how about a last name?”

“Can’t tell you that.” Ria replied evenly.

“How about what you’re doing with a gun to my head then?” Ed snapped.

“Can we get past the whole gun thing?” Ria asked. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

Ed chuckled darkly, the sound closer to a growl. “How do you know Spike?”

“We’re friends.” Ria said dismissively. “You want to undo the cuffs?”

“Not a chance in hell until you give me a straight answer.” Ed retorted.

“Everyone, cool off.” Greg cut in. “The number was a badge number. It’s CSIS.”

“CSIS?” Ed asked, his eyes widening at the implication.

“She’s an Intelligence Officer, Eddie, she’s on assignment. Cut her loose.” Greg said.

Ed stared back at her. “You work with Spike.” He said quickly. “Is he here?”

“Slow your roll.” Ria replied. “One thing at a time.”

Ed sighed. “Fine. Turn around, I’ll cut you loose.”

Ria brought her hands out from behind her back and handed him the zip tie, still cinched in a circle. Ed stared back at her. “How…” he trailed off, holding the zip tie in his hands.

Ria shrugged. “I gave up waiting after the first time I asked. You can get out of anything as long as you’re willing to dislocate your thumbs.” She cleared her throat awkwardly as Ed stared back at her, his eyes rocketing between her face and her hands. She cracked her knuckles slowly. “Right, so information.” She said, “What do you guys have so far?” After a moment she quickly added, “Actually, let me just patch into your com frequency real quick, it’ll be easier.” She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over it.

Ed shook his head. “You can’t patch into our frequency, Spike set that up.”

“And he taught me everything I know.” She countered. She tucked her phone away, retrieving a small plastic box from the same pocket. It contained a minuscule skin toned earwig which she tucked into place easily. “Radio check?” She said simply.

“We can hear you.” Greg replied, sounding weary.

“You know Spike.” Ed said, unable to move past the previous topic. “Do you know where he is?”

Ria sighed. “Can’t tell you that either.” She said shortly. “Can we get to the information sharing part of this whole thing, we both have work to do.” Ed looked ready to give her attitude right back to her, but Greg’s voice cut through the coms.

“It was toned out as a shots fired call, no injuries reported.” Greg started. “Sam and Jules secured two plain clothes subjects, but you said there’s more in SRU uniforms.”

“Yeah.” Ria replied. “Likely three of them, they typically work in teams of five. I apprehended one of them, he’s tied up in the boiler room if someone wants to pick him up.”

“Sam?” Greg asked.

“On it, boss.” Sam replied.

“You know who’s responsible for this?” Ed asked.

Ria nodded. “Trois Couteaux, French gang.”

“Trois Couteaux?” Raf repeated.

“You know them?” Ed asked.

“Yeah, they’re big in France, a few sightings here in Canada but nothing major.” Raf replied.

“Points for whoever that guy is.” Ria joked.

“Raf.” Raf said shortly, but not unkindly.

“Nice to meet you.” Ria said, echoing his tone. “Now back to information. They’re making a move against Hugo Alarie, a French banker. He used to fix their books but he cut ties and escaped to Canada. My guess is they’re here to tie up loose ends.”

“Which one of them are you after?” Ed asked.

Ria laughed lightly, then said, “Alarie. He didn’t just do the books for Trois Couteaux. If I can get my hands on him I can connect him to drug smuggling and human trafficking through most of North America and Europe.”

“Alright, so we’ve got at least two more subjects at large, Sam did you find the third?” Ed asked.

“Yep, I got him now.” Same replied. “It’s Ria, right?”

“Yeah.” Ria said.

“Well, good work. He definitely wasn’t going anywhere.” Sam said, his tone carrying slight amusement. “Did he have a weapon you stashed somewhere?”

“Took it.” Ria replied. She gestured with her head towards Ed. “It’s the Beretta.” She said. “Speaking of, can I have my guns back?”

Ed nodded, and passed two of them over. After holstering them, he handed her the knife. “I’ll hold onto the Beretta.” He said.

Ria shrugged, “Works for me, not my favorite anyway.”

“Alright, let’s move out.” Ed said. He glanced at Ria, “We’ll take you back to the van, you can feed us information from there.”

Ria’s eyebrows shot up. “Absolutely not. This is still my op.”

“You don’t have a vest, you’re going to the truck. This isn’t a debate.” Ed said firmly.

“You’re right, this isn’t a debate.” Ria said pointedly. “Trois Couteaux is your jurisdiction, but Alarie is mine. So either we can work together, or we can go our separate ways. I’m going with or without you.”

Ed growled lowly, then relented. “You stay behind me.” He ordered, emphasizing his point with a finger directed at her chest.

Ria growled right back, but relented slightly. “Fine.” She hissed. “Let’s go.” She strode forward, unholstering her gun when Ed grabbed her shoulder. She turned on reflex, only managing to point her gun back at the ground at the last second as she slid her finger off the trigger.

Ed chose to ignore it, knowing her reaction was half his fault. “Behind me.” He said pointedly.

Ria scoffed bitterly. “Fine. Can we move?”

Ed exhaled heavily but nodded. “Let’s go.”

As they exited the room, Greg’s voice came over the coms. “Ria, you seem familiar with this group, any idea what their plan is?”

“They’ve got the uniforms, best guess is they’re corralling the guests, getting them all in one place to try and find Alarie.” Ria replied.

“They’d need a place big enough to contain everyone.” Ed said. “The ballroom?”

“I cleared it, no one’s there.” Sam replied. “Dining room?”

“Cleared.” Ria said, “That’s where I found the guy I tied up.”

“Parking garage.” Jules offered. “They were doing valet parking for the event, it’s gated and locked. Only way in or out is through the building itself.”

“That’s a good call, Jules.” Ed said. “We’ll head there now. Sam, meet up with Raf and Jules, finish sweeping the building. Converge with us on my signal.”

“You got it.” Sam replied.

As they walked through the dark corridors, sweeping with their guns, Ed attempted to reinitiate conversation. “Your hand to hand is impressive.” He said lowly.

The corner of Ria’s mouth turned upwards. “Thanks, I learned from the best. Yours is too.”

“Spike?” Ed asked.

Ria froze for barely a second, continuing her sweep so quickly it was barely noticeable. “Maybe.” She said cautiously.

“We’re friends.” Ed assured her. “We don’t mean any harm.”

Ria sighed. “I know.” She relented. “Just on guard, I guess.”

“From what I’ve heard, you have a right to be.” Ed said. His voice wasn’t quite gentle, but it was heading towards it. “He taught you, then?”

Ria nodded. “Him and the others, back when I was younger. They wanted me to be able to defend myself if anything happened to them.”

Ed’s gut twisted but he kept his tone even.. “You had me beat. Not a lot of people can do that.”

There was a strange glint in Ria’s eyes that shone when Ed’s flashlight beamed her way. “He’s a good teacher.”

“We don’t get to see him use hand to hand that often.” Ed admitted.

“You should.” Ria said, “Just tell him to stop checking himself when he does. He probably pulls back against you.”

Ed scoffed quietly. “I’m sure he’s better than we know, but he’s not that good.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Ria said. “We were taught to change our fighting styles around others. We were taught to fight with more of a martial arts style, it’s hard to explain in a street fight.”

“Why-” Ed cut himself off quickly as the sound of voices floated distantly down the hall. He and Ria stopped short, Ed holding up a closed fist, then two fingers motioning forwards. Ria nodded, stepping further away so they were each close to opposite walls. She raised her gun higher, sinking into a ready stance as they advanced down the hallway. The voices got louder as they approached- two men speaking in high-strung French.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now? The cops are here because you shot at him like an idiot” Ria whispered, Ed turned to her, eyebrows drawn together. A second later he realized she was translating as they tucked themselves into either side of the doorway.

“It was just to scare him, Calm down, that’s why we brought the uniforms. We just go in there, tell them we’re the cops and pull Alarie out of the group as we heard them outside. We can shoot him after we get what we want.” Ria said in a hushed voice that she lowered an octave to signal a second speaker.

“And what if he spooks when he sees us? He might recognize us.” Ria continued, echoing the stressed voice.

She dropped her voice back down. “Then we shoot him in the leg. We’re cops, remember? We say he’s one of the shooters and tell the rest to run away.” There were a few more words in French and Ria locked eyes with Ed. “They’re going to move in.” She said in her normal hushed voice. “We gotta go now.”

“Sam, what’s your status?” Ed whispered.

“Building's cleared, we’re coming to you.” Sam replied. “Thirty seconds out.”

“We don’t have thirty seconds.” Ria snapped, stepping out of the shadows with her gun held high.

“Ria, wait!” Ed hissed, lurching towards her but she was already moving into the parking garage. He swore under his breath and moved after her.

“SRU, drop your weapons!” He yelled, pointing his gun at the closest man. Ria had been right, they were dressed head to toe in SRU riot gear. It was slightly different from what Ed and the others wore, but close enough that the civilians gathered looked between the two pairs in confusion.

“Il a dat laisse tomber, connards, nous sommes la vraie police.” Ria snapped in rapid fire French as she pointed her weapon at the other man. Ed heard the last word and deemed the statement satisfactory enough, though he had no clue what she had actually said. There was the sound of running footsteps, and Ed stole a second to glance sidelong at the door, seeing Sam run through it with his weapon raised, Raf and Jules hot on his heels. They swarmed the two men, sliding behind them.

“Laisse tomber ce gars ou meurs.” Ria said coolly. The men glanced at each other, snarling but slowly slid their arms up in a sign of surrender. Sam and Ed surged forward, pulling the guns away. Ria looked back towards the group, spotting a dark haired man trying to slip out of the crowd.

“Alarie!” Ria yelled. “Stop right there!” She darted away from Ed and the others as Alarie broke into a run.

“Ria!” Ed yelled, looking over the shoulder of the man he was cuffing to see her sprint away.

“I got her!” Jules yelled back, running after Ria as she turned the corner to go to an upper level. “Raf, get the crowd!”

She heard Raf call an affirmation through the coms but she tuned it out, focused on locating the girl who seemed startlingly young from the glimpse of her face she’d managed to glean before she’d run off. She tracked the sound of heavy footfalls echoing through the garage, knowing she couldn’t be too far behind them. When she caught up, Ria had Alarie backed against a car with a gun pointed at his chest.

“Give up, Alarie.” Ria said shortly.

Alarie’s accent was thick when he spoke. “I won’t tell you anything.” He snapped back. “I’m dead if I do.”

Ria raised the gun in a show of her words. “You’ll be dead much quicker if you don’t.” She said coldly.

“Ria.” Jules said steadily. She kept her gun in her hand but spread her other arm out placatingly. “Don’t shoot him. We can take him in and interrogate him there.”

“Jules, you good?” Sam asked over the coms.

“I’m good.” Jules replied evenly.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ria asked. “Tapped into your frequency, remember?” She sighed heavily, flattening her tone. “I’m not going to kill him, calm down.”

Jules breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief and took a cautious step forwards. Ria kept her gun trained on Alarie, and Jules took it as permission to approach. She holstered her gun, withdrawing her flex cuffs instead. She walked up to Alarie, turning him around so that his front was pressed against the car hood as she zip tied his wrists together. Once secure, she patted him down quickly. She found nothing and jerked him upright. “Come on.”

Ria relaxed, storing her gun as Jules dragged Alarie forward.

“I did nothing!” Alarie protested. “You can’t arrest me, I’m the victim here!”

“You’re wanted for crimes in at least four countries.” Ria said shortly. “I guarantee you I can find one to tie you to here.”

“I will tell you nothing.” Alarie spat.

Ria held up a hand to stop Jules. She complied, jerking Alarie to a halt in front of Ria. She leaned up to him, squaring her shoulders as she locked him in a fierce gaze. “You do that, and I’ll make sure you get tried in Qatar instead of France.” She threatened. “I hear you’re up for the death penalty there.” Alarie swallowed thickly, fear flickering through his wide eyes. His shoulders slouched as Jules pulled at his elbows, leading him back down to the ground level. Ria followed along silently, the threat lingering heavily in the air. They met up with the others at the bottom, Raf having already herded the civilians out to the other officers anxious to get their statements and get out of the cold.

Ed nodded at Ria as she walked through and she returned the gesture, though she stuck close to Alarie as he was brought out of the building. Sam and Ed followed a moment later with their subjects.

“We’ll hold him here for now.” Jules said as they made it outside, gesturing to a police car.

Ria nodded, “He doesn’t leave the scene until I question him.” She said authoritatively. “After that you can have him. There's more than a few countries that want a piece of him so be ready for that, we’ll be shipping him off to Europe eventually.”

Jules gave her a knowing grin. “Oh, we don’t deal with booking.” She said humorously.

Ria smiled back, letting out a sound half between a scoff and a laugh. “You’ll get to avoid the worst of it then.” She turned as she heard the sound of a slamming door, watching an older man she identified as Sergeant Parker walk out of the van and towards her and Jules. From the opposite end, Ed and Sam were approaching as well. She fought back the fear rising up in her chest at the thought of being cornered, forcing an easy smile to remain on her face even as the muscles in her jaw began to twitch.

“Sergeant Parker.” She said cordially, extending a hand as he approached.

Greg shucked off his glove and shook her head. “You can call me Greg.” He said evenly. “I presume you know the rest of my team as well?”

Ria nodded, gesturing flippantly to the team as she rattled off their names. “Jules, Ed, Sam, and Raf would be the one still assisting the patrol officers with reports?” She said, her words halfway between a question and a statement.

Greg nodded. If the idea of her knowing their names already despite a lack of introductions surprised him in any way, he didn’t show it. “So what’s this about you having a gun to my team leader’s head?” Greg asked.

Ria chuckled wryly. “Yeah we’re not letting that one pass are we?”

“Wait, you beat Ed?” Sam asked, shock written across his face as the implication hit him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, okay, let not rub it in.” Ed said, throwing his hands up.

Ria glanced between him and Sam, then said, “You know, I’m not sure if that was an insult against him or me.” The easy smile returned to her face, this time real as her eyes caught the flashing lights with a mischievous glint.

“As much as I’d love to build the camaraderie by ribbing our team leader,” Greg said, “can we have a moment with you, Agent?”

Ria nodded. “Yeah, you want to go to the truck?” She asked.

Greg nodded back. “I think that would be best.” He said. He motioned for Ed to follow as he led Ria back to the command vehicle. Once they were securely inside he took his hat off, tossing it onto the counter as he ran a hand over his head. A moment later he dropped his com, motioning Ed and Ria to do the same. Ed did immediately.

Ria took her com out after a long moment as she stood uncomfortably in the middle of the truck, glancing subtly between the two men who blocked either side of her. “Is there something else I can help you with, Sergeant?” She asked.

Greg didn’t waste breath with any preamble “It’s not Alarie you’re after, is it?” He asked.

Ria nodded. “Right into it.” She muttered. Louder, she said, “He’s a stepping stone.”

Greg raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“It means, I still have a job to do and he’s the key to that.” Ria replied shortly.

“It’s not over then?” Ed asked carefully.

Ria sighed, “Not even close.”

“Is Spike doing okay?” Greg asked. “He was in… rough shape the last time we saw him.”

His comment caught Ria off guard and she answered earnestly. “That?” She exclaimed. “If you think that's bad-” She cut off, shaking her head with a laugh. “He’s as good as can be expected.” She said finally, forcing her face back to a schooled expression.

“Is he nearby?” Greg asked desperately.

Ria moved her head back and forth slightly, a physical expression of her thoughts as she decided what to say. “He’s close.” She admitted. “But he’s busy going after his own target.” She watched as Greg’s eyes lost their brightness and his shoulders sagged. He was like a kicked puppy and she sighed again, glancing at the clock in the corner. “Give it a minute, he’s supposed to call soon.” She admitted. She regretted it for a million reasons the second after she said it, but they all became a moot point when her phone began to vibrate. She grabbed it, glancing at the screen, then looked up at the two older men. Her eyes softened a fraction. “Would it make you feel better to hear his voice?” She asked.

“That’s him?” Ed asked quickly. Greg’s eyes widened as Ria nodded.

“Just don’t say anything.” Ria said, and flipped the phone open. “Hey!” She exclaimed.

“What’s up?” Spike replied, equally bright. His voice immediately dropped back down. “I got Faraq, did you get Alarie?”

“Yeah, though I’m going to have to question him here.” Ria replied. “I ran into some familiar company.”

“SRU?” Spike asked.

“Yep.” Ria replied. “They know I’m CSIS, so questioning Alarie here shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Ria if they know you’re CSIS they probably ran you, if Greer-” Ria clicked the speakerphone off, pressing the phone against her ear as she turned away from Greg and Ed.

“I know.” Ria said. There was a pause and then she repeated herself, sounding exasperated. Another pause, then, “Mike, it’ll be fine okay? I’ll come up with some excuse.” Another pause and she muttered an affirming phrase, then, “Look, they’re worried about you. Just pop by, stick Faraq in the trunk or something, and prove you’re not dead.” There was a long pause this time, peppered by Ria muttering “uh huh” and “okay”. Finally she said, “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” She closed the phone, tucking it back in her pocket. Ed and Greg stared back at her expectantly and she sighed at their faces.

“He’s going to come by.” Ria said. “He just needs some time to talk with Faraq. In the meantime I’ll interrogate Alarie. Can I use this truck?”

Ed raised his eyebrows. “Interrogate?” He echoed.

“I’m not going to bloody up your truck, okay? Calm down.” Ria shot back. “Just give me like fifteen minutes and you can have him back. I promise he’ll be in one piece.”

“You’re going to get everything you need in fifteen minutes?” Greg asked disbelievingly.

Ria smiled, a dark glint to her eyes. “Guarantee it.” She said.

“Alright.” Greg relented. “Technically he’s still your prisoner.” He situated the com back in his ear as he walked out. “Jules, bring Alarie to the command truck.” He said.

“Don’t ruin the truck.” Ed said shortly, halfway out the door. “Or we’ll make Spike clean it when he gets back.”

Ria licked her lips, looking suddenly withdrawn. “Right.” She said wanly. The door closed behind Ed with an echoing thud.

A minute later it opened again, Jules practically dragging Alarie into it despite his protests. She dropped him into one of the chairs. “Have at him.” Jules said, already walking out.

Ria waited until the door had closed once again, then dug her knife out. She rolled it over in her hands, staring down at her prisoner. “Right.” She started slowly. “So here’s how it’s going to go.” Alarie swallowed thickly, sweat already beading up across his brow. Ria continued, “I don’t really need you to say anything to be honest, I just need your blackbox.”

Alarie licked his lips. “I do not know what that is.” He said, his tone clipped, nearly shaking at the end.

Ria nodded. “Okay. How do you think this is going to go if you don’t give me what I want?” She asked.

Alarie took a shaky breath. “You are a cop, you cannot harm-” He cut off as Ria surged forward, the tip of her knife against his jugular. Alarie leaned as far back in his chair as he was able, pulse fluttering rapidly against cold steel.

“I’m not a cop.” Ria hissed. “And you don’t want to find out what that allows me to do.” She pulled back, standing up straight as she continued to flip the knife absentmindedly between her fingers. “I’ll ask you again.” She continued. “Your black box- probably a flash drive, I’m guessing. Small enough to sew into the seams of your clothes, small enough no one patting you down would notice.” She leaned closer again, Alarie jolting back reflexively. “Has all your transaction information on it maybe?” Ria asked. “Names and locations of who you worked for?” The knife twitched in her hand. Slowly, Alarie nodded.

“Good.” Ria said. “Where is it?”

“Right cuff.” Alarie stuttered out. “Near the button.”

Ria nodded. “There you go.” She walked around him slowly, circling him as if he were prey. When she reached his back she knelt down, using the tip of her knife to slice open the cuff of his suit jacket. A thin black drive fell out into her waiting hand. She walked back around, holding the drive up between two fingers. “See, this didn’t need to be difficult.” She folded her hand around the drive and tucked it securely in her pocket, then grabbed her com off the table and re-situated it in her ear.

“Can you guys hear me?” She asked curtly.

“Loud and clear.” Jules answered. “You done with Alarie already?”

“He’s all yours.” Ria replied.

“You got him to talk in five minutes?” Ed asked disbelievingly.

“Oh, he sang like a bird.” Ria replied. She glanced at Alarie, still pale and trembling. “Figuratively speaking.” Ria amended.

“I got him, Boss.” Jules said. It was quiet enough Ria assumed it had been said face to face. A minute later Jules was opening the door. She glanced between Ria and Alarie, taking in his appearance and the tense atmosphere. She chose not to comment on it. “Come on Alarie, you’re going down to the station.” She said, Alarie practically fell into her as he stood up from the chair.

“Yes, yes, thank you.” Alarie stammered out. Jules glanced behind him to look at Ria who shrugged, tucking her knife back in her pocket.

“Alright then.” Jules said dismissively, taking Alarie by the arm and leading him out of the truck, Ria following. She stopped short, just outside the truck as Jules continued to cart Alarie away. Before anyone swarmed her, she shot a text to Mike. ‘Too many people here, meet at the corner of Fifth and Elm.”

A second later her screen lit up with a new message. She clicked on it, eyes scanning quickly over the text. ‘Copy that, finishing up with Faraq now.’

Ria nodded to herself, sending one final text before she tucked her phone away. ‘Wipe any blood off.’

She made her way over to Greg, who immediately motioned for Ed to join him. The three met in the middle. “Fifth and Elm.” She said shortly.

“There’s nothing there.” Ed questioned.

“That’s the point.” Ria shot back. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

Greg tuned into the coms, “Jules, you’re in charge.”

“What’s going on, Sarge?” Jules asked.

“Ed and I are going to talk with the CSIS agent.” Greg replied, injecting a bit of emphasis in hope Jules picked up on his intent. When Jules inhaled sharply, he knew she had.

“Okay.” Jules said quickly. “Tell them…” She trailed off, unable to find the right words to say it subtly.

It didn’t matter, Greg knew what she meant because he harbored the same sentiment. “I will.” He assured her. He turned his focus back to Ria. “Lead the way.” He said simply. Ria led them away from the scene, taking a few back alleys until she stopped under a street light. At the opposite corner, two street signs glinted under the moonlit sky. “Wait here.” She said. She walked a few feet away from them and pulled out her phone. “It’s me, they're here.” She said quickly. “You want me to stay?” She waited for his answer, then sighed. “Okay. I’m going to head back to base, meet me when you’re done.” She closed the phone and glanced back at Greg and Ed. “I’m out, Mike will be here soon.”

Greg nodded. “Thank you.” Ria started to walk away and he took a step forward. “Hold on, what do we say on the report?” He asked.

Ria shrugged. “I don’t know, make it up! If it's bad I’ll just change it later.”

“You’ll steal our files?” Ed asked incredulously.

Ria scoffed. “They’re all digitized now. Mike didn’t just teach me hand to hand, you know!” With that, she turned away and walked into the night.

Greg and Ed lingered in silence before Ed broke it. “Forget Spike and Nick, those two together are a terrifying idea.”

Greg nodded. “They could probably hack the entire Canadian government.”

Ed turned to look at him. “Are you kidding me? They probably have hacked the entire Canadian government.”

“No comment.” The voice echoed behind them, causing both to spin around at the familiar sound.

Greg’s face broke into a smile. “Spike.” He breathed out.

“Hey, buddy.” Ed said, sounding just as relieved. “Where you been?”

Spike sighed, stepping under the streetlight. He looked the same as the last time they’d seen him, gaunt and hollow. “Here and there.” He answered. He tried for a smile but it fell flat and he dropped it a moment later.

Greg nodded. “Still can’t tell us anything, huh, buddy?”

“Yeah.” Spike muttered. “Sorry. Ria said you wanted to see me and I was in the area so…” He trailed off.

“Of course we want to see you.” Ed said, sounding gutted. “We miss you. The whole team does.”

“I know.” Spike muttered. “It’s just one thing after another, seems like it's never going to be over.” His voice seemed distant from himself, his eyes looked that way too.

“What happened tonight, bud?” Greg asked softly.

Spike shook his head. “Can’t tell you.” He muttered. He sucked in a breath, then said, “Doesn’t matter though. I did my job. Got the information we needed.”

Greg’s heart cracked. His voice was so broken, barely able to get a sentence out at a time. Whatever happened between the last time they’d seen him and now had broken what little bit of him remained. “Spike,” he started carefully, “if you can’t keep doing this, we’ll figure something out.”

Ed nodded vehemently. “He’s right Spike. Look at yourself. We can help you, you just gotta let us in on what’s going on.”

Spike bit his lip, his eyes shooting to the ground as he took a shaky breath.

“What’s wrong?” Greg asked quickly.

Spike shuffled his feet against the ground, eyes still locked downwards. “Nothing.” He said shortly.

Ed placed a hand on his shoulder lightly, pulling back a second later when Spike only seemed to withdraw more. He took a cautious step away, lowering the tone of his voice. “Come on, Spike, talk to us. Please, we can help you.”

“It’s just-” Spike broke off with a sharp exhale. “We.” He muttered, voice deep with emotion that rang closest to regret.

Greg’s eyebrows drew together, forehead creasing as he glanced between Spike and Ed. Neither one of them could offer any clarification. “What do you mean, buddy?” Greg asked gingerly.

Spike ran a hand through his hair. “You keep saying ‘we’. Every time we see each other. ‘We’ll figure this out’, ‘we’ll make this work’.” He muttered bitterly.

“Because we will. We’re trying to help you, buddy.” Ed pressed.

Spike shook his head. “There is no ‘we’. It’s over, I left. End of story.”

“You really think something as small as you walking out is going to keep us from trying to help you?” Greg asked, his eyes bright and open.

“I don’t deserve it. I lied to all of you, I left you.” Spike spat the words out as if they burned.

Greg risked taking a step towards him, warmth radiating as he entered Spike’s space. “Anyone who’s willing to accept help deserves it.” Greg said gently. “Please, accept it. You’re not alone.”

When Spike didn’t balk at the closeness, Ed moved back in as well. “You say the word, and no agency or government is going to stand between us and you.” He said the words so fervently that for a split second they hit home, and as Spike lifted his head he could see the wide eyes of a boy who wanted nothing more than someone to fight for him.

“Ed.” Spike breathed out.

“I mean it.” Ed doubled down. “You tell me you don’t want to do this and we will do whatever it takes to pull you out.”

“I can’t leave.” Spike whispered, the words sounding more like an admission of guilt than fact.

It didn’t bother Ed. He merely continued on with the same vicious protectiveness. “Then tell me what you need, and we’ll help you finish it.” Spike didn’t answer, his eyes drifting away again until Greg jostled him slightly.

Greg’s eyes were so open, so earnest as they locked onto his. “Spike, Spike, listen to me.” Greg urged. “Please, buddy. I can see what this is doing to you. To all of you. You three are drowning. You gotta let me in. Let us help you.”

Spike looked away, unable to continue seeing the care Greg was offering. “I can’t.” He said shortly.

Greg stared back at him, a million pleas running through his head. Spike had always put others before himself, no matter the risk. It was the same now. His fear of drawing the team into the darkness was overwhelming the rational need for assistance. Greg had to override it with something just as important. “What about Nick, and Ria?” He asked. “You want them to drown too?”

Spike exhaled sharply. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand-“

“We understand.” Ed cut in. “Believe me, we do. More than you might know. You don’t want us in on this, you don’t want us to get hurt, don’t want us to see whatever side of you you’re hiding. But it doesn’t matter.” Spike opened his mouth to reply but Ed continued right over him. “It doesn’t. Because nothing is going to make us look at you differently. Nothing, okay? You hear me?”

Spike nodded. “I hear you.” He said softly.

“Then let us in.” Greg said, just as gentle. “Tell us what you need.”

Spike raised his eyes to meet him, open and broken, a million things inside them the depths of which Greg couldn’t possibly understand. “I need help.” Spike’s voice cracked.

Ed tried again, placing a hand on Spike’s shoulder, and this time he didn’t pull away. Ed squeezed it as he moved his thumb back and forth comfortingly. “That’s all you had to say, buddy. You got it. One hundred percent.”

“Why don’t you come back to the SRU?” Greg offered. “Or we can talk at my house? Discuss logistics, planning, whatever you need.”

Spike shook his head. “No, no the SRU is too open. I don’t want anyone hearing about this. And I don’t want to bring any unwanted attention to your home. We can do it at my place.”

Greg blinked back at him. “Buddy, I hate to break it to you but I think your apartment’s been passed over.” He said gently.

“No, not the apartment. We’ve got a safe house, a warehouse on Wormwood. We can meet there.” Spike paused. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll text you the address.”

Greg nodded. “Okay. Okay that sounds good.”

Ed fixed him with a serious look. “You think about what you need, and you be there tomorrow. If you don’t know that’s fine, we’ll figure it out together. Just don’t run from us.” His tone softened, a rare watery glint in his eyes. “Be there. Please.”

Spike nodded, his eyes creasing as his jaw firmed up. “I will be.” He promised. He nodded again, more to himself, and turned away before he could say another word. They watched him walk away, much as Ria had, with his shoulders hunched. They hitched once, just before the dark of the night swallowed him whole.

Chapter Text

“You really think he’s going to be open to help?” Ed asked carefully, taking his eyes off the road to glance at Greg.

Greg sighed, fixating his gaze out the window. They were in an older part of town, mostly low-rent apartments and closed down buildings surrounding them. The few that were still open were decorated festively, new string lights glowing brightly in contrast against old brick. “I hope so.” Greg replied. “He’s over his head. I just hope he’s finally realized it.”

Ed pulled into an alleyway, siding his truck up along the curb behind a small black car. He stepped out, looking at the building towering over them as Greg did the same.

“Boss, you sure you have the right address?” Ed asked, taking in the warehouse in front of him. It was practically falling apart, boards nailed over the widows that looked like they were about to disintegrate.

Greg shrugged back at him, though his eyebrows told Ed he was thinking the same thing. “This is the address Spike sent me.” He said disbelievingly. “He said just to go in, that lingering outside would look suspicious.”

“This whole place looks suspicious.” Ed groaned. He sighed deeply. “Come on, let’s go.” He strode forward, placing a hand on the doorknob before he froze. “It’s unlocked.” He muttered.

“Spike probably left it open.” Greg assured him.

Ed sighed again and shook his head, but he swung the door open and walked through, Greg on his heels. From the doorway, they had a clear view through the bulk of the warehouse, a girl standing off to the side in what appeared to be a makeshift kitchen.

“What the fuck.” The vulgar words from the girl’s mouth were the first thing that startled the two, the second being how she spun around and grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter. As she finished her turn and faced them, they recognized her from the gala.

“Just go in, huh?” Ed growled under his breath.

Greg held his hands up placatingly. “Ria, right?” He asked. “You remember us from that hostage situation at the gala?” She looked different now, unbrushed hair hanging loose around her shoulders with glasses on. She wore gym shorts and an open collared shirt over her sports bra. Seeing her in a half-asleep state drove home just how young she was, looking more akin to a teenager than the agent they’d seen at the gala.

“Yeah, I remember you.” Ria shot back. “That was literally yesterday. Why are you here?” The question had a dangerous edge to it.

“Why don’t you put the knife down and we can talk about it?” Greg tried, ever the negotiator. “We’re unarmed. Spike asked us to come.”

Ria scoffed. “You might be unarmed, but he’s not.” She countered, raising her eyebrows as she flicked her gaze to Ed who shrugged unapologetically in reply.

“Ria, what- oh come on!” Spike blurted out, rounding the corner to lay eyes on the three of them.

“They just showed up!” Ria shot back defensively. Greg and Ed remained where they stood, watching the interaction play out before them as amusement replaced their attempt at negotiation.

“You’ve met them!” Spike exclaimed, an expression of disbelief written across his face.

“Yeah, that doesn’t explain why they’re here!” Ria cried, her eyes wide and accusing as she stared Spike down.

Spike sighed. With one hand on his hips and the other running down his face, he looked like a tired dad. His sweatpants and loose t-shirt didn’t do much to change the impression. “I asked them to come.” He said tiredly as he shook his head. “Put the knife down and go put a shirt on. You’re freaking them out.”

Ria scoffed, her eyes comically wide. “I’m freaking them out, they’re at our safe house at O’dark thirty!”

Spike blinked back at her, frozen for a moment as he tried to figure out what to reply with. He settled on, “Ria, it’s nine in the morning.”

Ria’s posture relaxed the smallest amount, her shoulders sinking. “Well how am I supposed to know that, this place doesn’t have windows.”

“I don’t know, a clock?” Spike said incredulously. “Go put clothes on.”

Ria sighed, shaking her head but she slid the knife back onto the counter. “Sorry.” She said halfheartedly, retreating towards the way Spike had come.

“You two know each other well?” Ed asked, a humorous lit to his voice.

“Not like that.” Spike gaped, horror crossing his face at the thought. “She’s like my little sister.”

“Little is right.” Greg said. “How old is she?”

“Twenty two.” Spike replied.

Ed’s eyes shot wide. “Twenty-two?” He echoed disbelievingly.

Spike cocked his eyes to the side, eyes lighting up. “Does that make the fact that she beat you up worse or better?” He asked playfully.

Ed ground his teeth. “Of course you hear about that.”

Greg laughed, the lightness of the atmosphere refreshing. Spike was still closed off, his body language more taught than his tone let on, smiles not as wide and laughter not as bright but there was a certain looseness to his form that gave Greg hope. Ria seemed to bring it out in him, he noted.

“Come on.” Spike said, gesturing to a round table tucked away from the couches. He started to lead them towards it, then froze and glanced back. “You guys want coffee or something?” He offered. “I think we’ve got a machine somewhere around here.” He began glancing around, eyes darting over the miscellaneous boxes strewn around the kitchen until Greg put a hand up.

“We’re okay.” Greg said gently. Spike nodded curtly, and continued his advance towards the table. He dropped into one of the chairs, looking weary but he managed a small smile.

“You okay, Ed?” He asked. “I heard Ria got a few good hits in.”

Ed grunted, but his eyes softened a bit. “I’m good.” He replied. “Few bruises. Something tells me I would have been left with a lot more if she hadn’t recognized me.” He paused, eyes raking over Spike as he debated the next question. “How did she know me, by the way?” He asked carefully.

Spike suddenly looked embarrassed, his face curling up slightly as he offered a half-smile. “I’ve talked about you guys to her before.”

“All good things?” Greg joked.

Spike’s smile grew the smallest amount, eyes brightening. “Yeah.” He said softly. “All good things.” He cleared his throat. “Right, back to the important stuff.” He glanced around, muttering to himself, “I knew I had it somewhere.” His eyes fell on what he was looking for- a brown file folder crammed full of papers that rested on the arm of a couch. He darted towards it, snagging the folder and plopping it onto the table. He sat back down, taking a deep breath as he laid a heavy hand on top of the folder.

“Simultaneous raids.” Spike said shortly. The levity was gone, replaced by the personality Spike seemed to wear now. “Remember Operation Pedal to the Metal? The drug bust against Hudson?” Ed and Greg both nodded.

“We’re doing it again.” Spike continued. He slid a thick folder to the center of the table. “This is everything on Asfaq Amir’s human trafficking operation, it spans two continents, and we’re going to attack every site at once.”

Ed’s eyes widened, his jaw falling lax as he gaped at Spike. “Seriously? An international raid? How the hell are you going to pull that off?”

“With your help, I hope.” Spike said tentatively.

“Look, Spike, we told you we’ll do whatever it takes to help you, but this…” Greg tailed off, thumbing through the many pages in front of him. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Nick’s done most of the heavy lifting.” Spike assured them. “He’s coordinating with Interpol as we speak, and Ria has already discussed the details with American Intelligence and the FBI. The three of us have been going after specific targets in between coordination efforts, identifying and gathering information on Amir’s network.” He tapped the folder pointedly.

“You three did all that?” Ed asked disbelievingly. “In three months?”

Spike sighed. “The first time we did this, we did it wrong.” He admitted. “We were young, and inexperienced. We went after the head, only tackling the offshoots when they got in our way. We focused on the terrorism the trafficking ring was funding, and it worked but we left too much behind. When it was over, Amir simply rose up and took over. This time we’re going to do it right.”

Greg stared back at him, the level of maturity displayed leagues beyond the glimpses they were privy to when Spike was with them. The realization dawned on him. “You’ve been working on this longer than three months haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” Spike nodded. “Nick and I have been in contact for a while, doing what we can to plant the seeds. Ria joined CSIS formally when she was 18, and she’s been doing under the table work ever since.”

“So no one has known about this until now?” Ed asked.

“It wasn’t exactly the agreed upon plan.” Spike replied cautiously.

Ed’s head cocked as he registered the implication. “You’re going against Greer’s orders?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Spike’s eyes hardened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He nodded resolutely. “We tried this once by attacking the head.” He repeated. “We won’t make that mistake again.”

“Will he retaliate?” Greg asked, concern leaking through his voice.

“Not if we do this right. We should have enough to put him away for a long time.” Spike replied.

Greg shook his head. “Not Amir. Greer. He doesn’t seem like the type to take insubordination well.”

Spike glanced away, biting his lip as he exhaled sharply through his nose. Finally he said, “Yeah. Probably.”

“You sure this is a good idea?” Ed asked. His voice divulged a gentleness that read the same as Greg’s worry.

“What other choice do we have?” Spike replied. His voice was strong, but he swallowed thickly.

Greg sighed heavily. He wanted to press further, but pushed the thought away in favor of not shutting Spike down. He nodded as he surveyed the file. “Two continents, huh.” He muttered. He glanced at Ed and shrugged his shoulders.

Ed grinned back, his eyes flinty. “What the hell, let’s do it.”

Spike nodded, leaning back in his chair a bit as his rigid posture relaxed. “Nick, Ria and I will handle Amir. We have a KOSO on him, but we’ll need help arresting the rest of his people, that will be the primary function of the raid.”

“KOSO?” Greg asked.

“Kill on sight order.” Ed and Spike said automatically. A split second later Spike winced and Ed’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Spike seriously. “Since when does in-country intelligence do KOSOs?” Ed asked.

“They don’t, usually.” Spike admitted. “This is a special circumstance.”

Greg chose not to comment, instead asking, “So we’ll arrest the rest of his men- you have evidence against all of them?”

“Most of them.” Spike said shortly, “I’m sure there’s many more but their presence should be enough for a conviction- which leads us into the other priority.”

Ed raised his eyebrows, “Which is?”

“The kids.” Spike said, his eyes darkening. “With the exception of drug and weapon facilities, most of them will be human farms.”

Greg stared back at him, mouth moving without sound for a moment before he managed to stammer out, “All of these?”

Spike exhaled sharply as he nodded. “A little over half.”

“And there’s kids there?” Ed asked, swiping the file from Greg. He flipped through page after page, pictures of one building after another. There were so many he couldn’t get through a third of them before Spike replied, despite the long pause.

“Kids and teenagers.” Spike said softly. “Some as young as two. The oldest are probably around sixteen or seventeen.”

Ed swore as Greg felt his stomach turn. “And you’ve been there?” Greg asked, eyes wide and horrified.

“Yeah.” Spike whispered.

Greg shook his head. “I can’t- I can’t even imagine the things you've seen.” He trailed off, no words able to capture the deep shock and appall that seared in his gut.

“It doesn’t matter.” Spike said, offering a dismissive wave of his hand. “If we pull this off, we’ll be able to save them.”

“We’ll pull it off.” Ed said curtly, a violent anger laced through his tone.

The corner of Spike’s mouth pulled down. “I hope so.” He muttered.

“So what now?” Greg asked.

Spike sighed deeply. “Now we bring it to Holleran. Coordinate with local police to arrange teams. Nick will do the same with Interpol to cover the UK and France, and Ria will coordinate with the FBI to arrange teams in the US.”

“You’ve got this all planned out.” Ed said approvingly, nodding along. His anger was replaced by a deep pride as he looked at Spike.

Spike offered a small smile back. “I want to do this right this time.” He said. “I don’t want any loose ends.”

“Did you have a date in mind?” Greg asked. “Any time constraints we need to be aware of?”

Spike shook his head. “We should be ready to go in six days. If we strike on Saturday, it gives us a chance to hit the drug houses before they ship out the supply for the next week.

“Six days.” Ed echoed, glancing at Greg. “Doesn’t give us a lot of prep time.”

Spike sighed tiredly but his eyes were still hardened. “Do you want to leave those kids there longer than they have to be?” He asked.

“No, of course not, but Spike, this is a lot to try and organize in six days.” Greg said.

“We don’t have a choice.” Spike said fiercely. “Even if there weren’t victims involved, the longer we wait the more time Greer has to catch wind of it. To be honest, we’re risking a lot by allowing six day prep time. Nick and Ria wanted to wait until we were twenty four hours out.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing you know better.” Ed said evenly.

“Are you guys going to be okay these six days then?” Greg asked hesitantly. “If anything happens…” He trailed off, not quite sure what he was worrying about but certain that the heavy feeling in his gut meant something.

Spike nodded. “We’ll be fine. Nick is already in the UK scoping it out, and Ria has a flight to Washington tomorrow.”

“It’ll just be you here, then.” Greg said. For whatever reason it only made him worry more.

Spike seemed to catch on. “I’ll be fine.” He assured. “The most active I’ll be is doing surveillance at a distance to make sure there’s no major changes. The rest of it will be coordination with you guys to get everything in place.”

Ed nodded, satisfied but Greg couldn’t say the same. He pushed it down regardless. “So now we get to bring this to Holleran.” Ed said tightly. “I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Better than bringing it to Greer.” Spike tried to joke, but it fell flat as true worry flashed through his eyes.

“He’s really that bad, isn’t he, buddy?” Greg asked softly.

Spike nodded, swallowing thickly. “He- let’s just say he wouldn’t approve of our efforts here.” He murmured. After a moment he seemed to force himself to brighten. “Right, so Holleran. I’ve got a mock tac plan we can show him, it outlines which districts we’re using and what resources we need.”

Ed nodded along, impressed. “You really got into this, huh?” He asked.

Spike allowed himself to smile. “Yeah, well we’ve got one shot at this. I want to make sure it goes off without a hitch.”

“So do we.” Greg assured him. “Can we look over the tac plan?”

Spike nodded quickly. “Of course, I have it…” He trailed off, looking over the many boxes surrounding him. “Sorry.” He muttered. He stood up, riffling through the boxes until he found another one stacked with folders. “Right, here it is.” He muttered again as he grabbed it. He dropped it on the table. It wasn’t as thick as the first one, but it was close, clearly well detailed. “This is everything, US, Europe, and Canada.” He said. “Nick and Ria have copies as well.”

“That's certainly… extensive.” Ed commented slowly as he began to thumb through the file.

Spike carefully drew it back towards himself, flipping it to one section before turning it around and sliding it back towards Ed. “This is Canada.” He explained. “As long as the SRU is on board, I’m going to loop in Alberta as well- they’ll head up the other half of the raid in Canada.”

“Amir really is everywhere.” Greg commented, looking over the locations as Ed flipped through page after page of addresses. “They’ve been in our backyard the whole time.”

“He’s good.” Spike said quietly. “Been operating for a long time without anyone catching on.”

“Except for you.” Greg said. “You did this, buddy. You're going to stop him.”

“We will.” Spike emphasized. “Together.”

Greg met his eyes, his own a bit misty. “That’s right, Spike. Together.”

Spike looked away, fidgeting with the papers in front of him. “So getting Holleran on board…” He trailed off, waiting for one of the others to fill the space.

“Shouldn’t be that difficult.” Ed replied. “Looks like you’ve got it all planned out.”

Chapter Text

Five Days Later:

Spike walked through the doors of the SRU, familiar sights and smells hitting him all at once. The change was so staggering his knees nearly went weak. The building was filled with people clasping warm coffees, the space filled with the anxious energy of a raid. Officers smiled and said their hellos as he walked through, some patting him on the back but it all filtered through his ears as background chatter, too caught up in the overwhelming sense of home he was experiencing to pay them any mind. He made his way to his commander, passing the dispatch desk with a small smile to Winnie. She smiled back, and clasped his hand as he passed. Not a handshake, but just a reminder that he was where he was meant to be. It nearly choked Spike but he continued his walk.

“Welcome back.” Holleran said lowly as Spike met him. He leaned the slightest bit closer. “I hear you’ve done some good work while away.”

Spoke nodded back. “Thank you, Commander.” He said, his voice stilted as he surveyed the room. It was more packed with people than the entryway had been, nearly at capacity. All four teams were present, intermingling with detectives from Guns and Gangs as well as a handful from other departments. There were dozens of officers he recognized, and even more he didn't, he noted as his heart swelled in his chest. “They’re all here for the raid?” He asked in a stunned whisper.

“Every one of them.” Holleran replied. “Teams one through three will be participating, as well as the rest of the street officers. Team four will remain at the station to help with coordination efforts and cover any hot calls in the city.”

Spike nodded along, his gratitude shining through his eyes. “That’s good.” He said in a stilted voice. “We could use the help.”

“You have it.” Holleran said genuinely, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I’m going to find Greg.” Spike muttered. He weaved through the crowd, repeating the smiles and handshakes as he passed until he located Greg near the front. As Greg caught his eye, he smiled and that overwhelming sense of homesickness returned.

“Welcome back.” Greg murmured, low enough that it couldn’t be overheard by strained ears.

Spike swallowed thickly. “Thanks, boss.”

“You ready for this?” Greg asked. “Two continent wide raid, and it starts right here.”

Spike nodded back. “Ready as I’ll ever be. You want to start off?”

Greg patted him on the back, hand catching at Spike’s shoulder where he offered a small squeeze. “You got it, buddy.” He hit the light switch, flickering it a few times to garner the crowd’s attention.

“Right.” Greg started, the bustle of the room quieting with the singular word. “I’m not going to pretend to be unaware of the rumor mill. As most of you are by now aware, Spike here has been working with CSIS.” A few low whispers swept through the crowd, Greg even noticed a dejected officer towards that back slip a crumpled bill into another’s hands. He fought back the sigh. “Two of his agents are coordinating elsewhere, working with Interpol and the FBI to launch simultaneous raids as we conduct ours here in Canada.” He glanced at Spike, “Can you-“ he didn’t need to finish the statement, Spike already nodding as he turned to the computer and pulled up a split screen. Two videos appeared, practically a mirror image of the SRU. Ria appeared on one stream, and she had a display behind her showing an additional building with even more people. Nick was in a third room. Behind them both, a large assortment of cops and agents were milling about. The effect was nearly overwhelming. Between all the streams, there had to be hundreds of cops gathered together. The majority of them on Nick’s side looked exhausted, bags under their eyes and coffee in their hands. A moment later Greg realized that it was early in the morning where they were. A sense of pride swelled up in him, both for the dedication of men and women he didn’t know, and for Spike’s ability to put together what had to be the largest raid in history.

“Can you guys hear us okay?” Spike asked.

“Loud and clear.” Ria replied.

Nick nodded, then leaned off screen, speaking in rapid-fire French. He popped back into view a moment later. “Sorry, I’ve got France on the line as well.” He explained. “I’ll translate afterwards, just keep going.”

“Okay, one second while I pull Alberta up.” Spike said. He moved to a second computer, one connected to a projector that a moment later shined the image of a middle aged man against the blank wall.

“Sergeant Hodge, can you hear me?” Spike asked.

“Yes sir.” Hodge replied. “Visual’s good too. His eyes flicked back and forth, taking in the large assortment of people gathered in the SRU. “Quite the team you’ve put together, agent.” He said curtly.

If Greg wasn’t so in tune with Spike’s affect, he wouldn’t have noticed the way the man bristled at the title. His displeasure didn’t show itself in his tone as he said, “Great, we can get started then, if everyone wants to introduce themselves.” He glanced back to Greg, offering a small nod.

“Alright, my name is Sergeant Gregory Parker, I’ll be in charge of the raid in Toronto.” Greg said.

“And I’m Agent Mike Scarlatti with CSIS, I’ll be overseeing the operation.” Spike announced. The bitter taste of his title didn’t slip through.

“Sergeant Jeff Hodge, Alberta SRU.” Hodge identified. “I’ll be running things in Western Canada.”

“Nick, CSIS. Overseeing the U.K.” Nick said shortly. A brief look of confusion swept over the crowd at the curt introduction but they moved on quickly.

“Argus Bolin, NCA running things here in the UK.” A brown haired man said, stepping in from Nick’s right.

“And I’m Agent Grace Frurrow from Interpol.” A woman said as she poked her head in from his left.

“Ria, CSIS coordinating with the FBI.” Ria said, motioning at a man next to her who stepped into frame.

“Agent Paul Frond.” The man said. “Deputy Director of the FBI. I’m coordinating with police throughout the US.”

“Agent Cordelia Courdeau.” A woman’s voice sounded from offscreen on Nick’s side, he angled the camera towards her a moment later, stepping with it to stay in view. Her accent rang through her words. “I will be overseeing operations in France.”

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, onto the fun stuff.” Spike said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “A day from now, we are going to launch the largest raid in known history, and we’re going to do it simultaneously in four different countries.” The officers in front of him balked, but Spike continued on as if he hadn’t noticed. “As soon as this debrief is over, Ria and Nick are going to return to Canada. The primary agents in England, France and the US will be leading the raids in their respective countries. Ria and Nick will partner with me and we’ll be overseeing officers here.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ll address the primary concerns here in Toronto.” There was another pause as he glanced back at the screen. “I’ll send you guys reports after this, and Ria and Nick can fill you in on the rest. It’ll be up to you guys to divide your men- the most important thing is that we strike simultaneously.”

Spike turned back to face his crowd, speaking evenly. “The raid will be conducted at midnight on the 15th, our time. For clarity, that’ll be the same in the Eastern US, 2100 the 14th in the Western US, 2200 on the 14th in Alberta, 0500 on the 15th in the UK, and 0600 the 15th in France.” Spike continued. He could hear multiple people over the stream huff out breaths as murmurs broke through the crowd in front of him. Spike held his hands up placatingly and waited as they quieted down. “I know it sounds like a lot, but we’re all going to be focusing on our own individual tasks. Guns and Gangs as well as our street officers are going to focus on the drugs and weapons warehouses, and the SRU teams are going to focus on the human trafficking warehouses.” Spike explained. “You’ll be split into smaller teams, pairing SRU with street officers due to the large amount of individual warehouses. One bomb tech will go with each, Amir has a history of detonating his facilities rather than hand anyone over.”

“We’re being split up?” A man called out from the crowd. Spike identified him as Bruce from Team Two.

Spike nodded. “Yes, due to the high volume of locations, it's necessary to split everyone up. We’ll do it as little as possible.” He assured them. More murmurs broke out among the crowd at his platitudes.

“Alright, listen to me- we can do this.” Spike said forcefully. “I know it seems ridiculous, insane even, but we are going to pull this off. There are warehouses full of guns and drugs ready to hit the streets, and hundreds of kids out there counting on us, and we are not going to fail them. Not today.”

Pride swelled up in Greg’s chest, threatening to choke him as he watched Spike take charge over the growing turmoil.

Spike took a deep breath, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. He unfurled it and displayed it to the crowd. It bore the image of a middle aged man with tan skin and a thick, dark beard. “This is Ashfaq Amir.” Spike said loudly. “He is the one in charge of everything that we’re aiming to dismantle. He will stop at nothing to escape. If you see him, use caution but apprehend at all costs. If he gets away, he will start up again elsewhere and this will never end.” His voice rose in pitch as he finished his statement, the photo shaking slightly between his fingers. Spike steadied himself, setting the photo on the table. “You all will receive your assignments.” He said shortly. “Are there any questions?”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re good, Agent Scarlatti.” Frond said firmly. “We’ll review your information and divide our teams.”

Spike nodded to the screen. “In the event you have any questions, reach out to either your point agent or myself.” He said curtly. “I’ll contact you prior to the raid for a par check. Ensure your people are in place and let me know when you’re ready to go. We launch together.”

Frond nodded, the action echoed by the assortment of agents across the various streams. A moment later, they began to click off. Spike exhaled sharply and nodded to himself. “Right.” He said shortly, looking back up to address his people. “I have your assignment, let's get to work.”

Chapter Text

Raid Day:

Ria plopped a heavy bag onto the table. “Got our stuff.” She said shortly. Glancing at Spike, who was staring out across the bustling SRU blankly, she shook his shoulder. “Hey, you ready for this?” She asked lowly.

Spike licked his lips then shook his head quickly. “Greer knows.” He muttered. “There’s no way he hasn’t heard about this.”

“We did it with as little notice as possible.” Ria tried. “Maybe we’ll get away with it.”

Spike only shook his head again. “No, there’s no way. He has to have heard.”

“Greer?” Nick asked, walking into the briefing room, already geared up to go to war.

Ria nodded. “Yeah.” She muttered.

Nick sighed, hefting his gun on to the table to sit beside the bag. “If he does, he hasn’t intervened yet. That’s all that matters, right?”

Spike inhaled sharply, pulling the gear bag towards him. “We got this.” He said, nodding, the words sounding as if they were meant to assure him more than anyone else.

Ria nodded, echoing him. “We got this.” She said with an air of finality.

Spike dug through the bag, dragging out his old vest. It was pure black, scored and burnt at the edges from former close calls. Its weight was comforting in his hands. He slid it over his torso, securing the straps at the sides. It fit looser than it had before, even with the straps pulled taught. Ria leaned in, retrieving her own vest. She pulled out two gloves as well, turning one over in her hands before she slid it over to Spike and reached back in to find the other one of her pair.

“Guns in the truck?” Spike asked, snagging his glove from the table then grabbing the second from the bag. They slid on easily and he glanced back at Ria.

“Handguns and semis.” She replied evenly. “I’ve got ties too if we're planning on taking prisoners.”

“Subjects.” Spike corrected tiredly. “Arresting subjects.”

Nick scoffed out a laugh. “Gotta use proper terminology, Ria, we’re LEOs now.” He chided, a twinkling glint in his eye.

Ria shoved his shoulder, but she laughed musically. “Yeah, yeah. Mouth of the lion’s den.” She joked. Spike smiled between them, savoring the moment.

“You guys ready?” Greg asked, walking into the room. He paused, taking in Spike’s gear before he nodded. “All black, huh?”

Spike couldn't bear to wipe the smile from his face. “Gotta blend in with the shadows, boss.” He said.

Greg couldn’t help but smile back. “Whatever works, as long as you're back in grey after this is over.”

“You got it, boss.” Spike replied cheekily. “Can’t wait to be in the cool pants again.”

Nick glanced down. “You’re telling me these aren’t the cool pants?” He asked with mock sadness.

Spike patted him on the shoulder. “Not even close, buddy.” He replied. “But if you ever get sick of American Intelligence, I’m sure we could find you a spot here.”

Nick glanced at him, and something in his eyes shone like consideration. “We’ll see if I get tired of the spy game.” He joked back.

“Come on.” Greg said gently, “It’s 2300, we gotta get out there.”

Spike nodded back, his expression flattening. “Let’s go.” He walked past Greg, Ria and Nick behind him. Greg watched them go, heaving a small sigh as he allowed his eyes to close for a moment. He steeled himself, and followed them to the trucks.

Spike chose to take his own car on the basis it was less suspicious, Ria and Nick driving with him. Greg and Ed drove together in one of their SUVs. The five of them made up one team, with a few patrol cars dedicated for cleanup. The rest of Team One had been split off into another group with Jules and Sam at the helm. The drive was mostly quiet, with only calls of ‘on location’ to break the heavy silence. Spike led them to an old factory on the outskirts of Toronto. Ed recognized the area as a more rural part he’d taken his family to for camping. The thought curdled in his stomach as he realized that only kilometers away from them, kids the same age as Clark were being abused. They drove cold, and stopped far enough back that the headlights wouldn’t alert anyone to their presence. Once parked, they crept through the tall grass until they were in position.

“Scarlatti’s team in position.” Spike called. He waited in bated breath until Winnie sounded in his ear. They’d determined that there were too many people involved to call over the air, so dispatch had been relegated to serve as a control center for each area. All of Toronto's teams fed through Winnie, and she was responsible for the final go call. Peter was assisting her, monitoring international traffic to determine when they were set. It was convoluted, but it was the best they could come up with.

“All teams in position.” Winnie said shortly. Spike sucked in a breath, grip tightening around his gun. A moment later, Winnie said, “All teams- go.” Spike surged forward, Ed and Ria at his sides. They crushed through the thick foliage until they reached the door. Without preamble, Ed kicked it in and they surged inside.

“SRU!” Ed yelled, “Everyone down on the ground!” There was scrambling throughout the room as half the men reached for weapons and half dropped to their knees.

Spike shot at the first man to raise his weapon and he fell with a sluggishly bleeding hole through his head. Ed downed the next as Ria and Nick crept under him, taking coverage behind a table they flipped as they continued firing.

“Cover me!” Greg yelled. Ed holstered his handgun and pulled up his rifle, laying down cover fire as Greg moved forward and crouched behind the table with the other two.

“Spike, go!” Ed called. Spike surged forward at the sound of his voice, but instead of running for the table he veered to the side, finding cover behind a support pillar. Bullets tore at the plaster around him but he held his ground as he reloaded.

“Nick, second base!” Spike yelled, patting a hand against the pillar.

“Copy!” Nick called.

Spike pointed two fingers at the next pillar as he called, “Third!”

“Ready!” Nick yelled.

“Go!” Spike surged forward, firing as he made his way to the next pillar up, and at the same time, Nick and Ria surged towards the pillar Spike had previously used. They drew the fire of the men in the room, and Ed used it as a chance to run to the table and crouch next to Greg.

“They have their own code, huh?” Greg asked breathlessly.

“Yeah.” Ed snapped. “Would have been nice to know.”

“Sorry!” Spike called over the coms. “Habit! You two and Ria take the men in here, Nick follow me and we’ll take the back rooms!”

“Copy that!” Nick yelled. He surged away from the pillar, making it to the second one as Ria drew fire. A second later and he pushed off again, disappearing behind Spike into the back. Ed growled at his disappearance but popped up from behind the table, taking down two more men with a single burst.

“Lay down your weapons or we will be forced to shoot you!” Greg called out. He leaned to the side, shooting a man in the chest who had managed to get too close to their cover.

Ria glanced to Ed. “You got me?” She asked. He offered a curt nod, shooting back up as she ran to the pillar, bullets peppering her path. She collided with the pillar harshly, panting as she caught her breath, then began firing again.

“We don’t want to shoot you. Give up!” Greg tried again. There were a few more gunshots on each side, and then a yell.

“We’re giving up!” A man yelled. “Don’t shoot!”

Greg made to stand up from the table when Ed shoved him down with a firm hand on his shoulder. Ed fixed him with a stern look, then cautiously stood, gun still raised. He scanned the scene, taking in the remaining men slowly placing their weapons on the ground and raising their arms. Glancing back at Greg, he nodded and Greg cautiously stood as well.

“Kick your guns to the middle, then kneel on the ground with your hands on your head.” Ed directly sharply. The men complied, the sounds of guns scraping over the ground echoing through the space. Shots could still be heard from the back, and Ed was anxious to get back there and join them. Ria hesitantly stepped out from the pillar, moving to rejoin Ed and Greg. The three gathered the guns in a central space, then moved to restrain the men on the ground. Bodies littered the factory floor, blood trickling throughout it as the three stepped carefully around the viscous liquid pooling. Greg suppressed a grimace as he maneuvered himself to the first man and secured cuffs around his wrists. The shots tapered off in the background, which didn’t bring any comfort to Greg until he heard Spike’s voice.

“Ria, I need you back here.” Spike said softly over the coms.

Ria finished tightening the cuffs around the man’s hands, pushing him into the ground as she stood up. “You good?” She asked.

Spike’s voice came out as a breath of air. “We found the kids.” He replied.

Ria glanced at Ed who nodded. “We got the subjects, go.” He said shortly.

Ria nodded back, and moved quickly to the back rooms. She walked through the dark hallway, passing countless bodies until she walked into another large space. Nick and Spike were standing in the center, a ring of men knelt on the ground around them, hands tied securely behind their backs. Ria could tell where they’d run out of cuffs, a few men tied with rope or electrical cables. She tore her eyes off them as the anger settled in her gut, and took in the large metal cages that took up most of the room. They were large enough to each contain a dirty mattress laying on the floor, and a bucket. Her gut clenched, nausea rolling through it and she swallowed down the saliva that began to pool in her mouth. Kids- dozens of them sat in the cages, wearing dirty clothes with their hair unbrushed. It was a sickening and too-familiar sight. She sucked in a shaky breath and exhaled forcefully, making her way to the nearest cage.

“You got them?” Spike asked. Nick made some affirmative reply, but Ria tuned it out as she knelt down in front of the first cage.

“Hey.” She murmured. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m with the police. Do you speak English?”

The child, a girl with dark hair who couldn’t be more than ten, nodded.

Ria forced herself to smile. “That’s good, what’s your name?”

The girl licked her cracked lips. “Joy.” She whispered.

Ria inhaled sharply, blinking furiously as she fought to keep her tone even. “We’re going to get you out, Joy.” She said softly. “We’re going to get all of you out.” She glanced to the side. “Mike, we need the key.”

“I got it.” Spike said quietly. He passed it over to her and Ria carefully slid it into the padlock. “I’m going to find another one.” Spike said, and turned away. “Or a paperclip or something.” His voice trailed off, halfhearted in the face of their circumstances.

Ria directed her attention back to the girl. “I’m going to leave the door open, and you're not a prisoner anymore.” She assured her. “But do you think you could stay there for a moment until I can get the rest of the kids out? I just want to make sure we have everyone accounted for.”

“Okay.” Joy replied in a small voice. “I can do that.”

Ria nodded. “That’s great, Joy. That’s really great. I’m going to get all of you out of here.” She promised fiercely. She opened the door, and moved on to the next one.

As Nick watched the men on the ground, Spike and Ria moved from cage to cage, muttering assurances and promises of freedom as they unlocked each one. They swapped languages as needed, the kids clearly having been obtained from all over and shipped like cargo. By the end, Ria felt like she could barely breathe, and one look at Mike’s face told her he felt exactly the same. Nick on the other hand, looked ready to put a bullet in the heads of each man around him, and the only reason he hadn’t was the fact that he didn’t want to leave the kids with more trauma than they’d already garnered.

When they’d finished, they gathered the kids in two lines, Mike holding two in his arms who weren’t yet old enough to walk, and Ria holding one. “We’re going to move slowly, out the back, okay?” Ria said gently, but loud enough the kids in the back could hear her. “And we’re going to play a little game. Everyone’s going to put their hands on the person in front of them, and you’re going to close your eyes, alright?” She glanced down at the two in the front- the oldest. She knelt down to their level, looking up at them with earnest eyes. “You two are going to have to keep your eyes open.” She said sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to see some unpleasant things. We’ll get you out as quickly as we can. Do you understand?” The two at the front nodded, accepting their duties. Ria swallowed thickly, and stood back up, hefting the young boy in her arms. “Alright!” Ria called, forcing brightness into her voice. “Everyone close your eyes and form a conga line. We’re getting out of here!” She waited with anger still rolling in her gut until the kids fell into place obediently, having long since had the defiance beaten out of them. When they were set, she began the walk forwards, leading them past the bodies as they went through the back door and onto the grass.

Nick waited until they were clear, then dragged the men roughly to their feet. “Walk.” He spat, shoving the first one forward. They complied, and he forced them back into the main part of the factory to meet with the others. He passed them off to Greg and Ed who stood as armed guards over the captured and injured men.

“The kids?” Greg asked.

Nick nodded sharply. He couldn’t bring himself to say they were okay. “They’re alive." He ground out. “What’s the word on the rest of the raid?”

Greg raised his eyebrows, then sighed as he stared down at the men circled around them. “Let’s find out.” He said hesitantly. He switched his com channel back to one, listing for a moment to ensure there was no traffic before he called out. “Winnie, it's Parker. What’s the status of the rest of the raid?”

There was a moment of silence where Greg felt his heart begin to sink, and then Winnie answered. “Success.” Winnie said tiredly. There was a sound like a disbelieving laugh, and then she said, “It was an overwhelming success. Reports are coming in from all over. Hundreds of arrests are being called in, hundreds of kids are being identified as well.”

Greg let out a laugh of his own as he shook his head. He removed his hat, running a hand over his forehead. “We did it.” He said. “You did it.” His eyes locked on Nick.

Nick offered a shaky smile. After a moment, it faded. “Amir.” He said. “Have you found him?”

Ed shook his head. “He’s not among the ones arrested. We haven’t checked all the bodies though.”

Nick nodded. “We can only hope, right?’ He said.

Ed nodded back. “Come on. Let’s get these dirtbags out of here.” As Nick went to assist him in dragging the subjects to their feet, Spike sounded over the coms.

“Nick, need you back here.” Spike said tightly.

Nick glanced at Greg, who nodded. “On my way.” Nick said curtly, and he disappeared through the back once again. Greg and Ed got to work carting the men outside. Additional patrols had been on standby for the aftermath, and Winnie had blissfully sent them their way. They met them outside, passing the subjects off.

A few minutes later, Spike, Ria, and Nick led a group of children across the grass. As they reached the group of police vehicles, Ria brought them to a halt.

She knelt down in front of them. “You’re going to go with these nice officers, okay?” She asked. “They’re going to take care of you, and I’m going to come check on you in a bit.” The kids up front nodded silently, and Ria motioned for the officers to approach. They came with blankets and ready arms, accepting the children Spike and Ria passed off. Once the kids were clear, Ria turned back to her two partners. “Now?” She asked.

Spike nodded. “Now.” They turned and headed back inside.

“Spike, where are you going?” Ed called after them.

Spike waved a hand behind his head. “Just gotta check something out!” He called. They reentered the building, a moment later the remaining officers going over identities of the dead came walking out.

“What’s going on?” Ed asked the first officer out.

The man shrugged. “I don’t know. Spike told us to get out of the building, so we did.”

Ed wanted to press the issue, but he figured with their past the three likely needed a moment to come to terms with what they’d accomplished, and if they wanted to do it in the same hell house they’d been forced into as kids- who was he to stop them. It was radio silence for a few minutes until they heard Spike speak.

“Hey boss, is everyone clear?” Spike’s voice came over the coms.

“All clear, buddy.” Greg replied, “Where’d you guys go?”

“Just wrapping up loose ends.” Spike replied. “Everyone’s at least sixty meters from the building, right?” Spike’s voice was carefully measured, and Greg’s gut immediately picked up on it.

Greg glanced around, mentally measuring the distance. He was sitting in the SUV they’d parked away from the building, cataloging the events of the call. He could see Ed nearby, milling about with the other officers as they went over the events. “Yes.” He said hesitantly.

“Okay good.” Spike’s voice came out as a sigh of relief. “We’ll be back shortly.”

“Spike, what are you doing in there?” Greg asked. Spike didn’t reply. “Spike!” Greg called. Ed’s ears perked up at his tone.

“What’s going on?” Ed asked sternly, snapping back into action.

Greg leaned his head out the window, typing paused. “I don’t know.” He replied. “Spike asked if we were sixty meters away, then stopped answering.”

“Spike, talk to us.” Ed demanded. There was no response, and just as Ed was about to run back in, the building went up with a violent burst of flame.

Chapter Text

Ed tore the com out of his ear as the deafening explosion ripped through the earpiece. It couldn’t cover up his voice as he screamed Spike’s name. Greg was already halfway out the truck but he broke into a run as the building went up. He came to a screeching halt at Ed’s side, his eyes wide and mouth working to form the question.

“Was he in there?” He asked frightfully.

“I- I don’t know.” Ed replied. “They didn’t reply before it went up.”

“I’ll get Fire in here.” Greg said quickly, calling for Winnie not a second later. As Greg paced giving orders, Ed remained frozen, watching the blaze consume the warehouse before them. It was only his keen gaze locked ahead that allowed him to notice three forms silhouetted against the flames. With the bright backdrop it was hard to tell who they were and he found himself reaching for his sidearm until he recognized Spike’s laugh.

Ed’s knees nearly turned to jelly, his chest finally expanding fully as breath returned to him and he called Greg’s name. “He’s okay.” He muttered. “Boss, he’s good!” He called louder. “They got out!” Greg ran back as the three drew close enough to overhear their chatter, their soot-covered faces coming into view.

“That’s how you do it!” Ria exclaimed, knocking a fist against Spike’s shoulder. He grinned back at her, white teeth vivid against the dirt on his face, and for a brief moment Greg could see him again.

“Did you three blow that building up?” Ed asked shakily, his face still a shade paler than it had been five minutes ago.

Spike stared back at him while the moment lingered long enough to become awkward. Finally he said, “I’m not just good for stopping explosions, you know.”

Nick choked on a laugh which quickly turned into a cough.

Greg glanced between the three of them while his jaw worked, his breath short and quick as he fought to regulate it. Finally he settled on, “Why?”

“All their files were in there.” Ria replied evenly. “Plus their monitors are set up for onsite data storage only. Easiest way to cripple any remnants of their system is to destroy it all in one fell swoop. The bombs were already set, we just detonated them.”

“We cleared the building first.” Spike assured them quickly.

“Because it’s such a shame to let pedophiles die in an explosion.” Nick said dryly.

“Nick.” Spike sighed warningly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nick replied as he waved him off with a flippant hand. He paced a few steps away, coughing again. “This is why the CIA does it better.” He choked out.

Ria narrowed her eyes. “Are you dying?” She called after him. After a moment she followed him, slapping him hardily on the back.

Greg glanced their way in concern, but Spike interjected before he could speak up. “He’s fine.” He said flippantly. “Just less used to smoke than Ria and I.”

Ed fixed Spike with a hard look. “Amir wasn’t in there.” He said darkly.

Spike sighed, the glint in his eyes as he watched his team evaporating. “No.” He said shortly. “He must have gotten away.”

“Or he was never there.” Greg offered. “Reports are still coming in from the other teams, it’s possible he’s been apprehended and no one’s identified him yet.”

Spike shook his head. “No, this is where he was supposed to be. He got away.”

“We’ll find him.” Ed said firmly.

Spike’s eyes drifted away, shutting down. “Maybe.” He replied, his voice distant.

“You destroyed a lot of evidence.” Ed remarked. It wasn’t a judgement, merely a statement of fact.

Spike shrugged. “It was therapeutic.” He explained.

Greg shook his head, running a hand down his face. “You gave me a heart attack. I thought you were in there.”

“Nah.” Spike said dismissively. “We know how close we can play it.”

Greg sighed, then huffed out a laugh. “Well you played it pretty damn close there. You three should let the medics check you out, make sure no one got a concussion.”

“We’re fine.” Spike said automatically. Greg fixed him with a hard look, but concern shone brightly through his eyes. “Okay.” Spike relented quietly. “We’ll get checked out.”

“Thank you.” Greg said gratefully. He patted Spike’s shoulder, then paused and grabbed the fabric instead, pulling Spike towards him as he hugged him fiercely.

Spike seemed to freeze for a moment, but then he sank into it and brought his arms up to hug Greg back. “Thank you.” Greg whispered into his shirt. “For coming back to us.”

Spike pulled back, a regretful look in his eyes. “It’s not over.” He said softly. “We don’t have Amir. He was our target. Greer-” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Greer will be furious.” He said darkly.

“We’ll handle it.” Ed assured him. “Whatever he does, we have your back.” Spike nodded gratefully as Greg spoke up.

“All that information you gathered, you have to know where he’d go if he wasn't there.” Greg said.

Spike nodded. “Most likely. We’ll have to corner him there though, before he flees the country.”

“So we do that.” Ed said firmly. “After you get checked out.”

“Okay.” Spike agreed. He pulled himself away to grab Nick and Ria. “Come on.” He muttered. “Let’s get evaluated, and we’ll plan next steps.” They followed him as he walked towards the ambulances arriving on scene. Spike greeted them. “Hey.” He said huskily, “The three of us might have blast concussions, then we’ve got a whole bunch of kids and gunshot wounds for you to look at.”

The medic hopped out of the truck, looking past him to survey the scene. “You don’t say.” She said dryly.

Spike shrugged halfheartedly. “Sorry.” He muttered. The other medic motioned for Ria to follow him, Nick being picked up by the next ambulance in. Spike sat heavily on the foot board of the first ambulance, sighing wearily.

“You know, when you guys do stuff like this it would be nice to have a heads up.” The medic chided gently as she shined a light in his eyes. “We can staff more ambulances if we know there’s a need for them.”

“Sorry.” Spike repeated. “Had to play it close to the chest, you know?”

The medic clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but accepted his answer as she tucked her penlight away. “Any dizziness, nausea?” She asked. Spike shook his head. The medic’s next question was cut off as Spike’s phone started ringing.

“One second.” Spike said quickly. He hopped up, taking a few steps away before he dug his phone out of his pocket. Considering everyone he cared about was either with him or otherwise engaged, there was only one person who would be calling. He didn’t bother with looking at caller ID as he flipped it open and pressed it against his ear. “Yes?” He asked sharply.

You can do all that but you can’t get Amir.” Greer sneered.

“You want to try your hand at him?” Spike snapped. “Oh, I forgot- you don’t do your own dirty work, you get kids to do it for you.”

“Feisty today, aren’t we?” Greer remarked. “Meet me, Lamar and Sixth. We’ll discuss your failings there.”

“Fine.” Spike ground out. He flipped the phone closed with enough force it bounced back before settling and shoved it in his pocket. He waved at Ria who was still being evaluated by the medic, forcing his tone to even out before he spoke. “I’m cleared, I’ll meet you guys at the hospital!” He called. He didn’t wait for her response before he headed off to his car.

The drive took far less time than it should have, his phone ringing a few times on the way. It got to the point he was forced to dig it back out of his pocket and toss it on the seat next to him, the vibrations only irritating him more. The calls seemed to alternate, Greg, Ed, Ria, Nick. He let it ring in the passenger seat, the gentle glow of the screen aggravating the turmoil he felt. He parked his car sloppily against the curb and walked to meet the only man out at this hour.

“Where are your partners in crime?” Greer sneered.

Spike’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Recuperating.” He answered tightly.

Greer nodded, his eyebrows flicking up for a second at an internal thought. “Very well. You disobeyed a direct order. Involved hundreds of cops in an international incident that now has four countries breathing down my neck.”

Spike scoffed. “My sincerest apologies.” He hissed.

Greer nearly snarled. “And you didn’t even get Amir.”

“We know where he might be.” Spike bit back. “We’ll get him.”

“‘Might’ isn’t enough, not this time.” Greer snapped back. “You bring him in, or I’ll find people who will.”

Spike relented in the face of the threat. “Give us twenty four hours.” He said lowly. “We’ll bring him in, or we’ll kill him. Either way he’s dealt with.”

“I’d prefer the second option.” Greer said. “Fine, twenty four hours, but you better deliver.”

“Understood.” Spike ground out.

Greer nodded, and turned away, disappearing into the darkness.

Spike heaved a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl up at the base of the street sign and sleep. He forced himself into motion despite the exhaustion that overtook him as Greer vanished. He stalked back to the car, holding onto the lingering anger as a driving force. Collapsing into the driver's seat, he reached for his phone. It lit up with a dozen missed calls. He ignored them, and punched in Ria’s number.

She picked up on the first ring, breathless. “Thank God.” She gasped out. “You we’re answering, we thought Greer-”

Spike cut her rambling off. “He did.” He said shortly. “You and Nick need to leave. We’ve got twenty four hours to kill Amir or he’s going to replace us.”

Ria sucked in a breath. “Okay.” She muttered. “Okay, come pick us up, we’ll find him.”

“The warehouse is burned.” Spike said, “My team will look for us there, call around and find a motel that pays cash- we’ll go back to the safe house and grab our files, then head there.”

“Got it.” Ria said shortly. “I’ll grab Nick. We’re at St. Pats, pick us up in the employee lot.”

“Alright.” Spike said, and ended the call. He headed straight for the hospital, breaking nearly every traffic law he could think of. They didn’t have time for lawfulness, not with Greer likely tracking their every move. True to her word, Ria and Nick were standing outside when he got there. They both looked worse for wear, but they were standing on their own and that was enough for now. They climbed into the car wearily.

“So we’re fucked.” Nick remarked as he draped himself across the back seat.

“Yeah.” Spike said shortly. “We’re fucked.”

Nick sat up, but he leaned tiredly against his legs. “We gotta find Amir.”

“No shit.” Ria shot back. A moment later, she muttered, “Sorry. This sucks.”

“We’re going to sort it out.” Spike promised. “If we can pull that raid off, we can find one man.”

“We need the files.” Nick said.

“Already in the plan.” Spike replied, pulling onto the street. “Ria, you find a motel room?”

“Yeah, they’ll hold it for us for the next hour.” Ria said. “It’s on Larkheart.”

“Alright, files then debrief there.” Spike said, speaking his tired thought process out loud. They finished the drive in silence.

…

“He said he would meet them at the hospital, maybe he’s there.” Greg said unconvincingly, glancing at Ed in the driver’s seat.

Ed shot him a look. “You really believe that?” He asked.

Greg sighed. “I don’t know, Eddie. I hope so.”

Ed ground his teeth. “He took off, and Amir is still out there.”

“You think he’s going solo?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know what to think, Greg.” Ed shot back. “All I know is he’s off on his own again, and I don’t like it.”

Greg stared at the road ahead. “Me neither.” They arrived at the hospital, making quick work of finding the emergency room clerk.

“Ria Doe and Nick Doe?” The woman up front asked. “They both left AMA.”

“Damn it!” Ed exclaimed, banging his fist against the counter. He immediately released it, flexing his fingers instead. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He said quickly. “Do you know where they went?”

The woman shook her head, lips pursed. “No, I’m sorry. They left probably ten minutes ago.”

Greg jostled Ed’s shoulder, “Come on, lets go look out front, they might still be here.”

As they looked through every corner of the emergency room parking lot, they didn't see Spike’s car driving out the back.

…

Ria sighed as she laid back on the faded bed sheets and stared at a discolored ceiling. “Maybe you should call your people back.” She suggested, pulling at loose threads from the worn blanket with her fingers.

“No.” Spike said shortly with a shake of his head.

“More boots on the ground might help us find him faster.” Nick said hesitantly as flicked through the pages of the file he was holding.

Spike grabbed it from his hand, slamming it down on the wobbly table. “I said no.” He snapped. “We can’t bring them in, not with Greer hovering over us like this. We don’t do this the way he wants to, we’re all at risk for retribution.”

“Fine.” Nick sighed. “But we better find him fast.” He grabbed a second folder and tossed it at Ria, it landed next to her arm, a few papers rustling out. She scooped them altogether and sat up, beginning to flip through them. Nick took one for himself and sat on the other bed as he started reading through it.

Spike sat heavily into the chair. “I’m sorry.” He muttered. “It’s just- you guys didn’t see Greer. He was ready to bring us all down.”

“It’s okay.” Ria said genuinely. “I know seeing him brings up a lot of bad memories, especially from before I was around.”

“Yeah, it’s all good.” Nick added. “Just bring us with you the next time you go up against him. We’re your backup, remember?”

“I know.” Spike sighed. “I just wanted to keep you guys safe in case he lashed out.”

“You think we don’t want to do the same for you?” Ria offered as Nick nodded along with the sentiment.

Spike offered them a small smile. “I know.” He repeated. He cleared his throat and glanced back at his file. “Any locations jumping out at you guys?”

“This one on Cobble Street is within walking distance from the factory.” Nick offered. “It’s a foreclosed warehouse, seems like it's been vacant for almost a year.”

“We have any surveillance on it?” Spike asked.

Nick nodded. “Yeah, pictures of Amir coming and going.”

Spike shrugged. “Better than anything I’ve got.”

“Same here.” Ria said.

“It’s worth checking out.” Spike said. “We can stake it out, use the parabolic mic to see if anyone’s hiding out in there.”

“Works for me.” Nick said, sliding the papers back into the folder. “I’ll hit the vending machine, get us some snacks.”

“I’ll pack the car.” Ria said, already setting her folder aside and standing up.

Spike looked between the two of them, gratefulness misting his eyes. “Thanks, guys.” He said thickly.

Nick patted him on the shoulder as he passed by. “You got it Mikey. We’re going to end this tonight, once and for all.”

Spike smiled thinly up at him. “Yeah, buddy. Let’s do it.”

Ria grabbed the duffel bags, still packed from after the raid, and followed Nick out. She tousled Spike’s hair on her way past, drawing a short laugh from him. “We got this.” She said softly. Spike nodded and pushed himself away from the table, following them through the door. He and Ria waited while Nick raided the vending machine with what little money they had left. When he returned, he sported an armful of chips and poptarts.

As they drove away, Ria commented on the half inflated Santa Clause propped up against the vacancy sign in front of the motel. Spike responded in kind, though he realized he’d forgotten it was almost Christmas. He thought wistfully about the team dinners that usually marked the holiday, wondering if this year he could have his own with Nick and Ria. He banished the thought as he pulled onto Cobbler Street, eyes focused on locating their target. They stopped two buildings away, all unlit, on the opposite side of the road and Ria readied the parabolic mic. It wasn’t Spike’s favorite of his toys, but it was a useful one. He aimed it at the warehouse, situating the headphones over his ears. For a moment the only sound was crinkling and he turned around.

“Nick, can you stop eating for a moment.” He muttered.

“Sorry.” Nick said quietly through a full mouth. He set the bag aside and brushed his fingers off on the thighs of his pants.

Spike sighed and turned his attention back to the house. He leaned forward subconsciously, ears peeled for any sign of life. After a moment, the sound of soft footfalls echoed through the headphones and his eyes shot wide. “Someone’s in there.” He whispered. Ria grabbed a pair of binoculars, sliding in next to him so they were shoulder to shoulder while she tried to steal a look through the windows.

“One figure, looks male but too dark for identification.” She murmured.

“I say we go in.” Nick whispered.

Ria shook her head. “Could be a homeless person just looking for a place to get out of the cold. We should wait for a positive ID.”

“No time.” Spike said, setting the mic to the side. “Nick’s right, we should go in. Just don’t shoot before you see his face.”

“Are we shooting to kill?” Ria asked. Her voice was strong, no hesitation ran through it.

Spike nodded. “Yes.” He said firmly. “Once you get an ID, shoot to kill.”

“Alright.” Nick said, pulling his side arm. “Let’s end this.”

Spike caught his arm through the crack in the seat before he could get out of the car. “ID first.” He said plainly.

Nick nodded back. “I got it.” He stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. Spike and Ria followed, drawing their weapons. They approached the warehouse silently.

“Ria, split off and take the back.” Spike whispered. Ria responded with a head nod, pulling away to go through the alley and secure the back of the warehouse.

Spike and Nick took the front, Spike quickly dialing Ria’s number and placing it on speakerphone in his pocket. “Can you hear me?” He muttered.

“Loud and clear.” Ria replied. “On three.”

“On three.” Spike echoed. He readied his stance. “One, two, three.” He kicked in the door, the rotting wood splintering beneath his heel. Nick strode into the building, sweeping with his gun. Spike was a step behind him.

“I see him!” Ria yelled. “Positive ID, heading into the warehouse to the east!” Nick and Spike surged in the direction she’d called, guns at the ready. Ria met them in the middle, joining the search. They moved steadily, going room to room as they cleared the warehouse in silence. It wasn't broken until a muzzle flashed, the sound of a bullet firing echoing a split second later. The next sound was Nick’s cry of pain as he fell to the ground. Spike and Ria fell back, ducking into doorways as three more shots fired.

“I don’t have him!” Ria yelled.

“Me neither!” Spike called back. He glanced at the ground, Nick was laying flat, clutching his leg uselessly as blood spurted between his fingers. “Nick, you good?” Spike asked, his eyes widening at the pool of blood that continued to grow under his friend.

“I think it hit an artery.” Nick gasped out.

“Ria, take him out through the front!” Spike yelled. “I got this!”

“Copy that!” Ria shouted back. There was a grunt as she hefted Nick in her arms. He blinked up at her, a dazed expression on his face. “Come on, you stay awake. I’ll get a tourniquet on that leg and you’ll be good as new.” She promised through the tears that threatened to obscure her vision. She dragged him as quickly as she could, profuse apologies spilling from her mouth as he bounced against the clutter spread about the ground.

“Leave me.” Nick slurred. “Help Mike.”

“He’s got this.” Ria snapped. “I’m not leaving you.” She dragged him through the doorway, and down the stairs. Nick couldn’t hold back the cry of pain that spilled from his lips as his leg bounced down each step.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Ria muttered. “We’re almost there, it’s going to be okay.”

Spike moved further into the building as Ria dragged Nick away, following the muzzle flashes and sounds of bullets firing. His efforts were slowed as he had to duck behind corners to avoid getting shot himself. He fired back intermittently, preserving bullets as he chased an invisible target. Finally, he stumbled out into a larger space and he got his first glimpse of Amir who was ducking behind a pillar. He fired off a few shots as he found cover of his own, pressed against the back wall. As he stood there panting, his eyes fell on a mess of wires half covered by an old blanket.

“Ria, get Nick as far away as you can.” Spike said tightly.

“Working on it, what do you have?” Ria grunted. She glanced down at Nick, he’d lost consciousness as she’d dragged him over the curb, the pain too much to bear. He was pale, pulse fluttering in a dangerous way through the vein on his neck. There was a clear trail of blood leading from the warehouse door to where she held him now.

“There’s a bomb.” Spike said shortly the sound of distance gunshots echoed through the phone, then two louder ones that signaled Spike returning fire. “I’m disarming it now but if there's one-”

“There’s probably more.” Ria finished. “He was running, he’d need to set enough to take the building down.”

Spike nodded, knowing she couldn’t hear it but unable to pull his attention away from the firefight. He shot back at Amir over his shoulder as he sliced through the red wire. The blinking ceased, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His relief was short-lived as Amir rounded the pillar, but Spike drove him back with another shot. He was forced to scramble back into a corner of his own as Amir stuck his arm out and fired, one of the bullets striking far too close to Spike’s head.

The phone fell from his hands, skirting across the ground until it collided with an old table and the screen cracked, its light going dark a second later. Spike didn’t have the time to mourn its absence as he fired back at Amir desperately. He tried to make the run to the overturned table, but halfway there a searing pain tore through his shoulder- right where the vest ended. He could feel it rip through viscera before it shot out his back to be caught by the Kevlar. The pain was blinding as he toppled to the ground. He barely managed to roll onto his back as he landed on the floor, gun raised on instinct to fire another round. The bullet tore through the air, striking true through Amir’s chest. The man fell to the ground, and he didn’t fire again.

Spike laid on the ground, exhaustion heavy in his bones as blackness sank into his vision. He managed to roll his head to the side, and from the new angle he could see a red blinking light tucked in the shadows of a pile of wood. He knew he needed to get up, to drag himself to it so he could disarm the bomb but he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to cooperate. The blackness was all encompassing until he could see nothing but the red light.

He stared at it, allowing himself to believe it was nothing more than the bulb on a string, nestled between the branches of a Christmas tree. His mind slipped away, conjuring an image of a world he wouldn’t see, and he fell into it gratefully. He sat around a table, mussing Ria’s hair as she laughed and pushed his hand away. Greg tousled his own hair as he delivered a plate of food to the table, and Spike grinned up at him. He and Nick swapped stories with Ed and Wordy, Sam chiming in with army tales as they passed plates around. Raf listened attentively to their stories, joining in when he could with his own time on patrol. Jules ribbed him mercilessly, drawing more laughs from Ria until Spike couldn’t help but join in. She’d found her partner in crime. Lou sat near the tree, turning the tables on Ria, shocked she hadn’t seen so many classic movies. The conversation ended with promises of film nights to come. They were safe, comfortable, and warm. Together again, the world a distant nuisance that could be ignored for another day.

It wasn’t snow falling outside, but dust all around him. The ground leached the warmth from his body, soaking up the red spreading out beneath him. The light blinked faster until it seemed still- just another bulb on the tree. Then it was over. Spike faded away with a smile on his face, listening to his friends’ laughter, the ghost of Greg’s hand still in his hair.

Chapter Text

Another day had gone by without Spike returning his calls, and Greg couldn't push down the concern settling in his gut. He’d hung long behind the others at the station, the gnawing worry keeping him there in case Spike returned. He’d finally convinced himself to leave, lingering only to say goodbye to Peter.

“Have a good night.” He said, rapping his knuckles against the desk.

“You too, sir.” Peter replied.

“Sergeant Greg Parker?” He turned at the sound of his voice, glancing down at the girl who stood behind him. He recognized her immediately.

“Yes?” Greg replied questioningly, a sinking feeling settling in his gut.

“I was asked to report to you that-“ Ria broke off. Though her voice was steady and her face betrayed no sign of emotion, a tear slipped down her cheek and she turned her head to the side quickly as she brushed it away. “Shit.” She muttered, seeming almost confused. “I thought I could do this.”

“What happened?” Greg asked. “Is Spike alright? Did something happen?”

She shook her head and stared back at him, her face stoic. She took a breath and after a moment continued. “I regret to inform you that Michelangelo Scarlatti has been found dead.”

Greg felt like the world had dropped out from under him. His knees almost buckled. “No.” He whispered in disbelief.

Ria seemed to pay him no mind, continuing with her statement. In retrospect, Greg would recognize that the structured speech was the only thing holding her together through her own grief, but in the moment all he felt was anger towards her. “His body and belongings will be returned to his family following an autopsy with the Toronto Medical Examiner’s Office.”

Greg didn’t know how he remembered how to speak. He felt like everything had been scraped out of him, like there wasn’t even a person left. “How did he die?” He barely felt himself form the words. “I thought it was over. I thought he was coming home.”

Ria stared back at him, as if she hadn’t anticipated the question and chose to ignore the later statement. “Officially, he died in a MVA. The medical examiner will rule it an accident.”

“And unofficially?” Greg didn’t know how his heart could break more, it didn’t feel like there was one left. He needed to know.

Ria’s mask broke the slightest bit, her lip trembling almost imperceptibly. “He did everything he could. He finished the mission.” She offered the non-answer softly. “I have to go.” She turned away, and Greg surprised even himself by grabbing her arm.

“You were on his team.” Greg stuttered, desperate for some level of closure. He couldn’t find the right questions to ask through his grief. He needed to know that Spike died with some measure of comfort. That he wasn’t left in the hands of people who couldn’t have cared less about him. “He said you were like a sister. Did you know him well?” He asked finally.

Ria turned back, her entire body trembling as she fought to keep her emotions in control. Her voice finally broke as she answered. “He basically raised me.” She pulled her arm away gently, an easy feat with Greg’s weak and trembling hand. “I’m sorry.” Ria whispered. “I have to go.” She turned away, walking quickly out of the building as her shoulders began to shake.

Greg didn’t answer Peter’s calls after him. He walked silently out of the building as if on autopilot, locating his keys and unlocking his truck, turning it on and pulling out of the lot. It wasn’t until he hit the road that the weight of what had happened came crashing down on him. He buckled forward, barely able to keep his eyes on the road as his chest heaved with the aching sobs that forced themselves out of his mouth. He drove without thinking, any rational part of his mind distant from him. He was still crying when he parked his car and stumbled inside.

He couldn’t negotiate the grief to an end, or fix the dark emptiness that overwhelmed his house. Without thinking, he dug through the coat closet, locating his target in the back beneath a pile of hats and scarves. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and marched back to the couch, slamming it heavily on the coffee table. He collapsed in front of it, his head falling into his hands as he sank further into his grief.

The sounds raking out of Greg’s throat were barely even human. He choked on the sobs, gasping in a desperate bid to take in air between guttural cries. His eyes burned, the skin around them raw as tear after tear poured down his face. There was nothing inside him but a bottomless pit, an endless cavern of grief and darkness left behind when Spike’s light was snuffed out. It was like losing a limb, a piece of his heart, his son. He stared at the bottle of scotch in front of him like a lifeline. It would be so easy to numb himself. His hands shook against his head. He reached for the bottle, grabbing it by the neck, and flung it against the wall. It shattered, spilling amber liquid and shards of glass over his carpet but he didn’t care one bit. He grabbed the pillows and threw them across the room as well in a sudden fury. The blanket went next, then the couch cushions. And finally, he was sitting on an empty couch with an empty heart, chest heaving with breaths that couldn't replace the air that had been sucked out of his lungs. He didn’t think he had any tears left to shed, they were all drying on his cheeks. Aching fingers reached for his phone, punched in a familiar number, and held the plastic up where it shook against his cheek.

“Greg?” Ed asked, sounding half asleep as he answered the phone. Greg remained silent, any words vanishing from his throat as the muscles seemed to seize. He heard rustling as Ed sat up in bed, creaking filled the silence, then footsteps. “Boss, you there?”

“I’m here.” Greg breathed out. He felt suffocated by the effort of two simple words. Each inhale burned, lodging in his chest uncomfortably even though it didn’t seem to be enough. He was still empty.

“Everything okay?” Ed asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.

Greg swallowed, exhaling shakily as he delayed the answer. “It’s Spike.”

“Is he back?” The question was tentative, balancing on a ledge.

Greg closed his eyes, running one hand over his head as the other gripped the phone tighter. “He’s- he didn’t make it back.” He could almost hear Ed freeze, the precipice nearing.

“What do you mean ‘he didn’t make it back’?” Ed asked carefully. He filled the space when Greg didn’t answer. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Greg choked on a sob as it shoved itself out his throat. He slipped to the side, laying on the couch with his feet still on the ground. “”He’s gone, Eddie. He’s dead.” The word broke as it left his mouth, the tears coming fresh.

“What are you doing right now?” Ed’s voice was carefully measured, whether to preserve Greg’s mental state or his own, Greg couldn’t be bothered to decipher.

Too caught up in his swirling emotions, Greg answered honestly. “Staring down a broken bottle of scotch, wishing I could have climbed into it.”

“I’m coming over.” Ed said definitively. “You better be there when I get there.”

Greg nodded, then remembering Ed couldn’t see him, gutted out “Alright.”

Ed hung up the call, remaining frozen for a moment where he stood. He took in a shaky breath, wanting nothing more than to let his knees buckle the way they threatened to, but he pushed himself to take one step forwards. He set his jaw, pushing past the way it trembled, and took another step. He blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, and took another step. Another trembling breath, another step. He grabbed his keys, hand freezing on the doorknob. An inhuman sound accented his sharp inhale but he shoved it away and opened the door. He let the cold overwhelm his senses as he walked to the car, focusing on the way the snow stung his skin, the way his feet crunched underneath him. He drove with the windows open, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel until he reached Greg’s house.

Ed didn’t bother knocking, planning to use his copy of the house key to let himself in, but he found the door left unlocked. Greg was still slumped on the couch, no longer crying but staring off into space blankly.

“Hey, Eddie.” Greg rasped out.

Ed made his way to the couch, his legs finally giving out as he collapsed into it. He swallowed thickly, jaw still fluttering against the tension running through it. “Hey, boss.” He managed.

“We missed it.” Greg said, sucking in a sharp breath. Ed let the silence linger until Greg finished his thought. “He wasn’t at the hospital. I just keep thinking we could have saved him.” Greg said brokenly.

“Me too.” Ed said, his voice barely above a rough whisper. “If we’d just convinced him to stay with us after the raid, if we hadn’t let him go…” Ed trailed off, unable to burden himself with ‘what-if’s’. The fact was he was gone, and no amount of hoping or reviewing would change that.

“Not just then.” Greg shook his head, tears springing back into his eyes. “Before that. When he was a kid, operating in our own backyard. What if we’d run into him?” He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching around the cloth over his thighs. “We could have changed things. It never had to end like this.”

“But it did.” Ed said, and finally his voice cracked the slightest bit. He pushed on forcefully as if he could shove the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him away. “It did, and we have to cope with that.”

Greg shoved himself up, his legs trembling as he began to pace. “I mean it was right in front of our faces the whole time! The kid who grew up so fast he never fully matured, we’ve seen it in subjects over and over! How did we miss it with one of our own?” Greg’s voice was a raspy ramble as the words tumbled out of his mouth, broken only by sharp breaths.

Ed stood as well, walking to Greg. He remained steady, his shoulders back, jaw set. But for the first time when Greg reached for him, he pulled away. Not far, not sharply, just enough to put space between them. To prevent Greg’s warm hands from holding onto his shoulders and seeping into the icy grief that was swirling around him. Far enough that he could maintain his strength as he tightened his jaw to keep it from trembling. If Greg noticed he didn’t let on, too caught up in his own turmoil to spare any thought outside of it.

“Greg stop.” Ed said softly. “You’re looking for answers, something to blame. Maybe this time there isn’t one.”

Greg finally met his eyes, watery and bright. “He was our boy.” Greg cried. “He was our boy, Eddie, and we couldn’t save him.”

Ed’s jaw trembled and he tightened his hands into fists at his sides, digging the nails into his palms and savoring the sharp pain. “We did everything we could.” He gutted out.

Greg shook his head, marching back to the couch, breaths erratic when he collapsed into it. “You know the most ridiculous part? Spike’s dead. He’s dead and the part that keeps sticking out to me is the fact that he won’t get an officer’s funeral. They’ll say he died in a car accident. Like it was just another day.” Greg whispered brokenly.

Ed stood over him, shaking his head, his mouth curling as he fought back the tears in his eyes. It was new information, but he took it in stride. “Everyone who matters knows. We gotta hold on to that.”

“I can’t keep doing this.” Greg muttered. “I can’t keep reliving it, over and over, second guessing ourselves and questioning what we should have noticed.”

“Then don't.” Ed said forcefully. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll let the others know.”

Greg fixed him with a watery gaze. “Are you able to?”

Ed nodded sharply. “Yes.” He said with determination, tucking his fist behind his leg when it began to shake. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“We’re on shift.” Greg mumbled. “How are we supposed to go in and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“By taking it one step at a time.” Ed answered. “We get through the day one minute at a time, and we do our jobs to honor him.” He couldn’t bring himself to say Spike’s name, worried that if it slipped past his lips all the tears behind his eyes would come with it. To his relief, Greg nodded and Ed found himself patting him on the shoulder as he walked out the door. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, it was midnight and any sensible person would be going to sleep. He ended up pulling into the twenty third precinct as he drove past and noticed Wordy’s car still parked in the lot.

Wordy righted the papers on the desk, tapping them against the edge until they fell in a straight line. He glanced up as he laid them flat again, catching Ed walking through the doors. “Hey!” He called, pushing the chair back as he stood up. “What brings you down to my neck of the woods?” He glanced at the clock, which read far too late for him to be there himself but the paperwork demanded the extra hours. “Especially at this time?” The fact that Ed didn’t answer right away was his first sign something was wrong. The lack of a quip was the second.

“Hey, Wordy.” Ed started. His eyes were dark, mouth set in a thin line. He didn’t meet Wordy’s eyes.

Wordy moved around the desk cautiously. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” He knew the answer before Ed had a chance to speak. The storminess Ed was displaying was reserved for one thing only. It wasn’t really a question of what, it was who.

“You might want to sit down.” Ed said softly. “I didn’t want you to find out from officers chattering. You know how word gets around.”

Wordy exhaled sharply. He wished for once his instincts had been wrong. “Who?” He asked.

Ed looked away, his shoulders dropping. “Spike.”

Wordy fell back into his chair, hand coming up to scrub down his face. It lingered over his mouth as he tried to remember how to breathe.

“How?” He asked blankly.

“I don’t know.” Ed murmured. “I just left Greg’s, he told me.”

“Is he okay?” Wordy asked

Ed swallowed thickly. “He’s handling it.” He said shortly.

“And you?” Wordy asked, his wide eyes locking on Ed’s.

Ed bit his lip, looking away as he finally answered. “About the same.”

“Yeah.” Wordy breathed out, nodding. “Me too.” The two lingered in weary silence for a moment, neither willing to break first until Wordy managed, “You should go home. Be with your family.”

“You too.” Ed muttered. “I’ll call you when we- when we know the arrangements.”

Wordy nodded sharply. “Call me before then if you need to.”

Ed clapped him on the shoulder, offering a tense smile. “Talk to you later.” He mumbled, already turning away. Wordy’s response couldn’t cut through the haze in his mind as he walked away.

He called Sam on the way home. The conversation had been short, one soldier to another. “She’s already asleep, I’ll tell her in the morning.” Sam had promised. “You call me if you need anything.”

“You too.” Ed mumbled. He pulled into his driveway, barely making it through the front door. He settled for the living room couch and collapsed on top of it. Sleep didn’t come easily, but it took him eventually and he had never been so grateful.

Wordy drove home in silence, the tears that welled up in his eyes obscuring his vision and blending the lights around him into a starburst of red and green.

Shelly groaned as she heard the door swing open and a set of keys drop into the bowl next to it. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. “Must have fallen asleep.” She muttered, turning the TV off. She glanced at the door to ask Kevin what time it was but stopped herself. He was frozen in the doorway, staring at his feet as if he’d forgotten how to take his shoes off. Shelly stood up quickly and made her way over.

“Kevin, are you okay?” She asked. When he didn’t respond she grabbed his hands worriedly. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, just let her draw his arms up as she squeezed his hands. “Kevin, you’re scaring me.” She whispered. She took in his face- the haunted, bloodshot eyes, the tear tracks dried on his cheeks. “What happened?” She asked. He still didn’t respond and she squeezed his hands again. “Kevin, please talk to me.” She begged. “Did something happen at work? Did-“

“Spike’s dead.” The words were emotionless, a cold statement of fact. There was nothing left of him to grieve with. He didn’t know how long he’d stayed in the car, head bouncing off the wheel as he cried into it. It had been long enough to feel the full extent of the winter chill.

“Oh my god.” Shelly breathed out. “I’m so sorry.” There weren’t words to put to the deep sadness that overtook her, or to convey her sympathy for what her husband was experiencing. It didn’t really matter, in that moment there wasn’t enough of him left to hear it. She pulled him into a hug, let him rest his chin against her head. Slowly, he brought stiff arms up to hug her back. She was the one to pull away first, knowing Kevin most likely wouldn’t in his shock. She gently led him to the couch and sat down next to him. They remained silent long enough for him to lay down, resting his head in her lap. She drifted off to sleep somewhere along the way, and woke to him shaking under her arms, tears sinking into the couch as he cried.

...

Jules awoke slowly in the morning, savoring the comfort of her bed until her eyes drifted to the side. There weren’t words to describe the way the air disappeared from her lungs, the deep emptiness that overtook her body as she slid her eyes to the side to see Sam sitting on the chair across the room. The word forced itself out of her before she registered she had retained the ability to speak. “Who?” She shot upright, body rigid with fear.

Sam stared back at her for a moment, his face raw with such emotion it undid her before he ever opened his mouth. “Spike.”

Jules collapsed forward, doubling over as her body bobbed up and down in time with her gasping breaths. Sam wrapped himself around her, holding her through her shaking even as the tears rolled off his own face and landed in her hair. He rubbed his hand over her back. “I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

...

The morning Ed woke up, he continued as usual. He ran on the treadmill in the basement on autopilot, went to the kitchen to make breakfast, and froze. There was nothing there that seemed appetizing. Nothing that seemed like it would fill the gnawing emptiness inside of him. He settled for a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.

“You want anything for breakfast?” Sophie asked softly as she walked into the kitchen in her bathrobe. She’d taken the call from Shelly not even an hour ago, her heart heavy with the knowledge of their friend’s loss and the grief that was sure to encompass his team.

“No.” Ed replied shortly.

Sophie walked up behind him, gently wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she leaned into him. “When’s the last time you ate?” She murmured.

“I’m not hungry.” Ed replied.

Sophie sighed almost imperceptibly, the only sign being a ghost of a breath against Ed’s neck. “We’ve been through this before.” She whispered. “After Lou died. I know you want to waste away, I know you can’t stomach the thought of food, but you have to try. For Spike.”

Ed’s face crumpled, his breath coming out in short pants, eyes blinking furiously as his jaw furrowed.

Sophie held him tighter. “Let it out.” She whispered. “Let yourself grieve. It’s just you and me. Let me hold onto your strength. I’ll give it back when you need it, but right now you can fall apart.” Her words undid him and he collapsed forwards, bringing his hands up to cover his face as he leaned against the table and sobbed. Vicious, traitorous tears ran steadily down his face as he gasped for air. Sophie only moved with him, holding him tightly as his chest heaved beneath her hands.

Ed somehow made it into work. His grief wasn’t an isolated incident. The whole team was suffering as they silently dragged themselves through morning workout. Their halfhearted attempt at normalcy fell flat, minds obviously elsewhere, each alone in their anguish. It was far too quiet as Jules ran on the treadmill, a blank expression on her face that the physical activity couldn’t break. Sam was pounding the punching bag, having not bothered to wrap his knuckles as he delivered hit after hit. Raf was lifting weights slowly in the back, limbs more weary than the weight should have allowed. Greg was sitting on a machine, water bottle in his hand halfway to his mouth where he’d seemingly frozen, a towel still hanging over his neck.

Ed walked over to Greg placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Greg startled for a moment, then silently placed the water bottle aside. Ed turned to face the room. “Come on.” He said gently, putting enough volume behind the words to garner his teams’ attention. “Forget workout, get changed and meet in the conference room.”

Sam grabbed the punching bag, holding it as it swung to a stop. “Okay.” He said shortly. He waited for Raf to re-rack his weights, for Jules to slow to a walk before stepping off. They quietly filtered out, Sam following behind them.

Ed glanced down at Greg, shaking him lightly. “You too.” He muttered.

Greg nodded shortly. “Yeah.” He breathed out. He stood up and wearily made his way to the locker room. Ed remained for a moment, gathering himself, then walked after him.

Raf made it out first, waiting quietly in the conference room for the others to trickle in. He didn’t have as strong a reaction as the rest of the team. He was shocked, of course, but his grief was fairly one faced. He’d known someone, and now they were gone. The part that hit him the most, strangely, was the bleed off from the rest of the team. Their grief sank into the cracks, permeating the parts of Raf’s mind where he’d begun to move on. Simply being around them was like holding someone while they cried, you couldn’t help but feel their anguish.

Finally, the conference room was almost full, all five remaining members of the team present. Greg stood at the head of the table, bracing his arms on the back of his chair. “No patrol today.” He said dryly. “We’ll stay here, take whatever calls come our way.”

Ed hovered close to him, nodding along. He picked up where Greg trailed off. “If you guys are up to it, we have some planning to do.” He said hesitantly. “Spike’s mom is still in Italy, so we’re-” He broke off, looking quickly to the ground.

Greg swallowed thickly. “We’re the only family he has around here. It’s up to us to figure out the arrangements.”

Jules stared back at them, her voice thick when she spoke. “He always said he wanted a party for his funeral.” She offered.

Greg nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.” He said thinly.

Chapter Text

Spike’s funeral was a sober event, as much as Jules had protested against it. They’d relented in the end, coming to an accord. The Goose being kind enough to open their doors for cops only as an after party of sorts. The air in the church was heavier than a normal cop’s funeral should have been. Spike’s mom hadn’t bothered to come back from Italy, Greg noted, but the church was far from empty. Spike had made a lasting impression, it seemed, on what appeared to be half the cops in the city. He identified some names as officers Spike had worked with in his patrol days, others from various seminars and classes on bomb defusion. There were misty eyes through half the crowd, some belonging to faces Greg didn’t even recognize. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Spike had always been one to leave an impression. His bright demeanor and crooked smile drew people to him like a magnet. You couldn’t help but feel his excitement when you were near him. The memories curdled in his stomach as he thought back to how Spike was in his final months. As much as it pained him, he was glad others were left with a ghost of who Spike had been, rather than what he’d become as he lost more and more of himself along the way.

As Greg sat in the pew, feeling horrifically isolated despite being surrounded by more people he knew and trusted that was usually permissible, he felt completely alone. His thoughts drifted away to better days, to lopsided smiles and infectious brightness. He thought of the day Spike had become his, and let those memories overtake the priest’s words.

…

“What about him?” Eddie asked, motioning to the young brown haired man in the back.

Rollie laughed. “You’re like a little girl in a pet shop, picking out the runt of the litter.”

Ed shrugged, “Hey, I’m just keeping my options open.”

Rollie grabbed the man’s file with a sigh, flipping through it half-heartedly. “He’s twenty four.” He said, almost accusingly.

Ed grabbed the file from him, giving it a quick scan. “And more accomplished than half the others.” He countered. “Commendations, additional trainings. Not bad for twenty four.”

“He looks like a marathon runner, not a cop.” Rollie said, taking the file back and tossing it on the table.

Ed’s reply was cut off as Greg entered the room. “So gentlemen, what do we think of the recruits?” He asked.

“We were just debating the merits of that one there.” Rollie said, gesturing to the young man.

“And ‘that one’ is?” Greg asked.

“Constable Michelangelo Scarlatti.” Ed replied.

Greg laughed lightly. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Too many syllables to yell on the go.” Rollie replied.

Greg made a noncommittal noise. “Well let’s not count him out based on the name. I’ve heard good things about him.”

“Really?” Rollie asked.

“Bomb squad says he’s helped them out more than a few times.” Greg replied.

“Kid knows his shit.” Ed commented approvingly.

“You like him?” Greg asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Why don’t we have Jules give him a once over, bring the guys coffee or something and get a read?”

Greg nodded. “Good call, Eddie.” His next comment was cut off as Jules walked into the room. “Perfect timing.” He said instead.

“What’s up, Boss?” Jules asked.

Greg jutted his head towards the lanky brown-haired man. “See him?” He asked.

Jules nodded. “Who is he?”

“Constable Scarlatti.” Greg replied. “You want to do a pass through, see what you pick up?”

“Bring the boys some coffee?” Jules asked.

Greg smiled back. “You read our minds every time.” He said, a jovial glint to his eyes.

Jules grinned back. “On it, boss.” She walked away, making her way to the breakroom to divvy up coffee into cups.

A few minutes later she reappeared, sporting two large drink holders in her hands as she began to weave through the crowd. She stopped at the man Greg had identified. Surprisingly, he spoke first as she passed him a cup.

“Constable Jules?” Scarlatti asked.

“Yep, that’s me.” Jules replied. “You've been following the team?”

“A bit.” Scarlatti admitted. “But it was kind of obvious.”

“How’s that?” Jules asked.

“Well the men’s locker room says 'men' and the women’s locker room says 'Jules'. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

Jules laughed lightly. “Fair enough. Jules Callahan.” She shifted the coffee to her left arm so she could shake his hand. Scarlatti did the same with his own cup.

“Mike Scarlatti. So do they like me or hate me?” He asked, gesturing subtly with his head to the conference room where the three other men were watching.

“What makes you think you’re special enough to have an opinion of?” Jules countered.

Scarlatti’s eyes widened slightly, a flash of uncertainty running through them. It nearly made Jules laugh again, but then he recovered and replied, “I’m the only one you’ve struck up a conversation with.”

Jules nodded. “That you are.” She replied evenly. “I don’t know if they’ve decided yet.” She chuckled and walked away, leaving him to mull her response over as he sipped the coffee.

“What do you think?” Greg asked as she entered the room.

“Smart, attentive, a bit worried about what we think of him.” Jules replied, taking the last coffee for herself. “Seems genuine.”

“Genuine is good.” Greg replied.

“He’s young.” Jules commented. It wasn’t a knock, merely a tentative statement.

“So were you. You were what, a year or two older than him when we took you on?” Ed said.

Jules scoffed at him, “Come on, you know better than to try and get a woman's age out of her.”

“Jules, we have your file, we know how old you are.” Ed replied.

“But you don’t go looking for it.” She shot back. “How were his scores?”

Greg flipped through his notes. “Topped the class in his written and defusion evaluations, top three for firearms, high middle of the pack in hand to hand.”

“Really?” Rollie asked incredulously. “He scored that high in hand to hand?”

Ed nodded along, impressed. “Better than he looks.” He commented. “What’s left, the physical?”

“Physical and psych eval.” Greg replied.

“There’s an odd number of recruits, right?” Ed asked.

Greg nodded.

“Alright.” Ed said with a shrug. “How about he goes against Rollie for the physical?”

Rollie grinned, “Works for me. Boss?”

“Alright, let’s do it.” Greg replied. He walked out to give the recruits their next task, smiling at Wordy in greeting as he made his way in.

“Hey, long time no see!” Ed called, patting Wordy on the back firmly.

“Hey, Shelly wanted me to call, I called.” Wordy replied.

“Yeah and that call took what, forty minutes?” Ed asked, pretending to look at a watch. “Come on, you nearly missed the physical. You’re timing with me.”

“What about Rollie?” Wordy asked.

Ed patted him on the back again, grinning. “He’s running.” He replied.

Rollie shot him a mischievous look, then walked out to stand with Greg as he began to divide the recruits into pairs.

The remaining three looked on as Greg broke up the group, watching as Scarlatti looked increasingly nervous when his name was not called and they were nearing the end of the list. He glanced around, calculating who was left unpaired, finally his eyes settled on Rollie at the front of the room.

“Smart.” Ed remarked.

“Nervous.” Wordy replied.

Jules narrowed her eyes at him. “You can see everything he's thinking right on his face.” She said.

“Could be good at negotiating.” Ed said.

Jules turned towards him. “You really like this kid, huh?” She asked.

Ed shrugged. “Hey, I call potential when I see it.”

“You really think he has potential?” Wordy asked. “He looks young.”

“He is.” Ed relented. “But that gives us time to mold him. There’s just something about him.”

Jules nodded. “I agree. It’s something in his eyes, like he’s read everyone before they even see him.”

“Let’s see how the physical goes.” Wordy said tentatively.

“Come on.” Ed directed, nodding towards the common space. “Let’s get out there.” They followed him out as Greg called the last pairing, partnering Scarlatti with Rollie. Rollie grinned, making his way over to the young man where he shook his hand. Scarlatti squared his shoulder, offering Rollie a smile in return.

Greg led the recruits out the back, to the yard between the main building and the shoot house. The obstacle course had already been set up. It started with a pull up bar, then two rows of tires to run through. After that they came to a rope maze they had to crawl under, then a swing over a patch of sand. The course ended with a tall wooden wall they had to climb over with only thin slats to push off of.

As the crowd gathered in front of him, Greg began to speak. “Alright!” He called, catching their attention. “I’m sure you've all been through courses like this. You’ll be racing against your partner. Times are individual, and they’ll be recorded at the end and tallied up with the rest of your scores. Does anyone have any questions?” An assortment of head shaking and ‘no, sirs’ answered him and he nodded his head approvingly. “Good. Line up with your partner and let’s get started!” The men scrambled to get in line, Rollie and Scarlatti falling in the middle of the pack.

The recruits went through as expected, struggling through the pull ups, stumbling over the tires, slipping off the rope and scrambling over the wall. Finally, Rollie and Scarlatti were up.

Rollie grinned at Scarlatti, sinking into a ready position for the run to the pull up bars. “You ready?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Ready.” Spike agreed with a quick nod. He sank down, copying Rollie’s position. Rollie chucked in reply, and then the air horn sounded and they took off. Scarlatti beat him in the run to the bars, but Rollie completed them faster. It was give and take, Scarlatti catching back up in the tire run, then falling behind in the rope maze. They were neck and neck by the time they reached the rope swing. Rollie took off first, but his speed got the better of him. His hands slipped, skidding painfully over the fibers of the rope as he crashed to the ground. His ankle rolled under him as he attempted to land on his feet and he fell to the side with a barely concealed cry. Scarlatti let go of his own rope immediately, halfway through his swing. He landed on the ground like a cat, sprinting back to Rollie’s side. Crouching down next to him, Scarlatti’s hands immediately moved to hover over Rollie’s ankle. He rolled the pant leg up with deft fingers, looking the joint over.

“I don’t think it’s broken.” Scarlatti mumbled. He looked back at Rollie, “You think you can get back up?”

“Rollie, you okay?” Ed yelled.

Rollie waved a hand at him, staving off Ed’s quick approach “I’m fine!” Rollie called back through gritted teeth. He looked up at Scarlatti. “I’m fine.” He repeated tersely. “Let’s go.”

Scarlatti nodded back and grabbed under his arm, helping drag him to his feet. He looped Rollie’s arm around his shoulder and stayed still for a moment while Rollie tested his weight against his leg. Finally Rollie nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” He said lowly. Scarlatti moved forward, Rollie limping along with him. They made their way across the sand of the rope swing, the last element of the course thankfully the only one left. Scarlatti made quick work of it, climbing over it with long limbs, then leaned back from the other end and stuck his hand out.

Rollie accepted it, grasping his hand and using the leverage to pull himself up, pushing with one leg against the slats. It was clumsy, and Scarlatti was practically dragging him the whole way, but he made it, swinging over the other end desperately. They dropped down on the ground, Scarlatti holding most of his weight, and they limped to the finish line.

Greg looked between the two of them, out of breath and panting, and nodded his head silently. Wordy jogged over, taking Rollie off Scarlatti’s hands. He carted him away, presumably to ice his ankle, and Scarlatti walked tiredly to the others. He collapsed on the grass as he tried to catch his breath. One of the other recruits patted his shoulder as he passed him a bottle of water.

“That was nice, but dumb.” The other recruit said between breaths.

Scarlatti only nodded back, taking a long sip from his water bottle. The rest of the recruits made it through the course fairly uneventfully, and before long the group was heading back inside. They milled about the general area of the SRU for a while as Greg called them one by one into the conference room for their psych evals.

Finally, it was Scarlatti’s turn, and he walked back with a heavy sinking feeling in his gut. He knew his time was terrible, and he doubted his other scores had made up for it. Before he’d even reached the door, he’d resigned himself to trying out again the next year. He walked tiredly inside, closing the door behind him and made his way to the desk where he took a seat as he tried to push some positivity back into his demeanor.

“I’m Greg Parker, it’s nice to meet you.” Greg said, extending his hand.

Constable Scarlatti shook it, almost gratefully. “Michelangelo Scarlatti, sir.”

Greg chuckled wryly. “That’s- yeah. Do you prefer Michelangelo? Mike?”

“Most people call me Spike, actually.” Scarlatti replied evenly.

Greg raised his eyebrows. “Spike?” He asked hesitantly.

Scarlatti nodded. “It’s an old nickname, just stuck, I guess.” He shrugged, a small smile crossing his lips.

Greg stared back at him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright then, Spike. You had the worst time out of any of the recruits.” He said evenly.

Spike’s face fell, but his eyes were determined. “I know.” He said shortly.

“You understand that timing was individual, not based on pairs, correct?” Greg asked sternly.

Spike nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“So why did you stop?” Greg asked, no judgement in his tone. “You were making good time, good enough to be in the top portion of recruits.”

Spike swallowed, his eyes darting away for a moment before they dragged back to meet Greg’s again. “He’s wearing the same uniform.” Spike said simply. “Or something close. That makes us the same team, right? I couldn’t leave him behind.” His tone was dripping with sincerity, the kind of childlike honesty Greg was rarely privy to. He blinked back for a second, not quite sure what to say.

“I suppose.” Greg replied, finally. He jotted something down in his notebook, then looked back up. “Why do you want to join the SRU?” Greg asked.

Spike answered almost instantaneously. “When you’re working the streets, it’s constantly go-go-go. You don’t get a chance to take a beat and really strategize, to figure out the best way to help everyone. It’s black and white, good guy and bad guy. You guys get a chance to see the gray areas.” Spike replied.

“You think the subjects deserve helping?” Greg asked. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick question himself.

“I think anyone who’s willing to accept help deserves it.” Spike answered simply.

The rest of the questions were routine, but Spike’s answers were anything but. He answered every one with a clear honesty that was refreshing to Greg’s ears. At the end he simply stuck his hand out.

“Welcome to the SRU.” Greg said, standing up from behind the desk.

A smile lit up the younger man’s face, his eyes instantly brightening. It was disarming, almost innocent. Greg’s mind replayed images of their harder calls unbidden, instantly wondering if he’d made a mistake. It was hard enough to make it through the street cop years without losing that look, let alone the SRU. It wasn’t something he wanted to take away. Spike only shot to his feet, stretching out his hand as the smile never left his face.

“Thank you, sir.” Spike said quickly.

Greg shook his hand, a tentative smile on his own face. “The others call me Boss, or Sarge.” He replied.

If anything, Spike smiled more. “Thank you, Boss.” He repeated.

Chapter Text

Greg felt as if he was drifting through the days, an unconscious passenger as the word spun around him. It was the end of another shift, and Greg found himself lingering behind once again. He milled about the conference room, putting together the folder from their last call as slowly as he could. He knew he should go home, there was only a few days until Christmas and he had yet to prepare his house. Somehow the thought of hosting only pushed him to stay later at the SRU. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp knock on the door.

“This a good time?” Holleran asked, hovering in the doorway.

“Is there ever one?” Greg asked shortly. He had a sinking feeling that he knew where this conversation was going.

Holleran approached slowly, looking weary. “We need to start holding trials.” He said gently. “Team 3 has been generous with covering your EOD calls, but it’s time we find a permanent replacement.”

Greg sighed heavily, running a hand over the back of his head. “I know.”

“Okay.” Holleran said. The simple word encapsulated so much emotion. He knew as well as Greg did that no one could fill Spike’s role the way he had. “Take the holidays.” Holleran continued. “We’ll hold trials after Christmas.”

“Thank you, sir.” Greg said tightly, turning away to busy himself with his papers. He felt Holleran put a firm hand on his shoulder, then he was gone.

Greg left shortly after, memories of the last batch of EOD recruits floating unbidden through his mind everywhere he looked throughout the station. When he got to his car, he paused with his hand on the handle. Another thought drifted through his mind- a number Spike had texted him, “for the worst of emergencies”, he’d said. Greg scrolled through his phone, locating the number with frozen fingers. He pressed his phone to his ear, half expecting for it to ring out.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ria.” Greg said softly. “It’s Greg Parker.”

“Sergeant.” Ria said formally, any surprise carefully hidden from her voice. “Can I help you?”

Greg floundered, trying to pull the right words from the air. “Can we meet?” He asked hopelessly. “I just want to- to talk. About Spike.” The name came out in a breath of air, lingering in front of Greg’s face in the cold.

“I shouldn’t really be out in the open right now.” Ria replied stiffly.

“We can meet at my house.” Greg said desperately. “I'll text you the address.”

“Okay.” Ria relented. “I’ll see you there.” She hung up a second later, the line clicking off with a forlorn beep.

Greg sighed, dropping the phone back down to his side. He lingered for a moment, unsure of what he hoped to get out of the conversation. Finally tucking the phone away, he got in his truck and drove. He didn’t remember the journey home, and found himself milling about the kitchen, taking stock of what little food he had left. He’d have to go shopping before Christmas, he thought distantly. A brief knock interrupted him, and he forced himself back to the present.

Greg opened the door, only waiting for her to make it through the doorway before he walked tiredly back to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Ria closed the door softly behind her and followed, sitting opposite of him across the round table.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ria asked cautiously, skipping the pleasantries.

Greg stared back at her, trying to put words to his aching thoughts. “The man that was with you two- Nick. Did he make it?” He asked finally.

Ria shook her head. She spoke as if giving report in a debrief, all business. “No. Just me. Nick went down first. He was still alive, but he was injured. He couldn’t walk. Spike bought us time. I dragged Nick for as long as I could but by the time I got him far enough away, it was too late.”

“And Spike?” Greg breathed out, his hand trembling against the table.

Ria tried to crawl inside Mike’s mind, to use the words she thought he’d say if he’d had the chance as she spun a story she’d want to hear. The lies slipped from her lips easily, though they burned like bile in her throat. She didn’t tell him how the building had come down on him before she managed to get back. Didn’t tell him how she’d dug through the rubble until her fingers were raw and bleeding, her nails broken and nearly torn off. She didn’t tell him about the way her sobs clogged her throat along with the cloying dust and the smell of blood and smoke. She didn’t tell him how the only trace of him she’d found was his wallet, a crumpled and age-worn post it tucked inside. A note from Greg, presumably left on one of Spike’s files that said nothing but “Good work”.

His death had been announced in a heartless text from Greer, who couldn’t have been bothered to even offer a phone call, after his body had been recovered. She knew it was only a matter of time before it turned up in a torched car. It was a horrible end to a life he’d tried to live so well. She pushed the thoughts away. The truth helped no one, not for this. Better to sell a story of desperate survival, a fight to return home, than the cold sad truth of a meaningless death.

Her shoulders slumped, tone that of a weary girl. “He didn’t die alone.”

“You went back for him?” Greg asked.

Ria stared back at him, her lower lip trembling, eyes blinking furiously. “He was my brother. He made it to the door. He knew he didn’t have time but he ran anyway. He wanted you to know that after everything, he died trying to survive.” She swallowed thickly, desperately wishing she could believe it herself.

Greg nodded, accepting the false story with misty eyes. His hands rattled against the table. “Tell me about him.” Greg begged. “All the stuff he wouldn’t say. Tell me how you remember him.”

Ria thought of what to say, how to describe the man who had been like a father and brother to her all in one.

“He gave me my name.” Ria started softly. “I didn’t have one before they found me. I was called whatever the men who bought me wanted. The men who held me didn’t even bother with a name. They used less favorable words.”

“He named you?” Greg asked, his voice just as soft, scared to break the moment of gentle remembrance.

“He asked me what I wanted to be called, and I didn’t have an answer. He offered one. Valeria. It’s Italian. It means ‘to have strength’.” She laughed lightly past the tears in her eyes. “I was eight years old. They took me in after that, brought me food when they could, tried to keep me safe. It cost them a few times, but they didn’t stop. It took over a year but when they finally had a chance, they got me out. I spoke mostly Arabic and Russian, but they taught me English, Italian, and French.”

“English wasn’t your first language?” Greg asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Ria shook her head. “Accents was something Greer used to harp on. Probably the only good thing we got out of him.” She said with a sardonic laugh. “Spike was the one to teach me Italian, it was helpful when we didn’t want to be overheard.”

“We didn’t get to hear him speak Italian often.” Greg said, almost wistfully. It was a part of Spike they never got to see, like many he was learning.

“He was probably scared he’d mess up.” Ria laughed.

Greg laughed as well. “He seemed pretty fluent to me.”

Ria’s head cocked to the side slightly, still smiling but more amused than before. “Of course he was, it was his native language. He learned English from Ben. He was scared that if he spoke too much Italian, he’d lose his Canadian accent.”

“I knew his parents were from Italy, but I thought he grew up in Canada?” Greg asked.

Ria shook her head. “No, he grew up in Italy as well. The deal he struck with CSIS was to get his family into Canada, and for him to join when he finished his mission. He didn’t really live here until he was eighteen.” At Greg’s disbelieving face, she continued. “He created his whole backstop himself. School records, addresses, everything. Technically he never even finished middle school. It was all manufactured.”

Greg let out a broken laugh. “He was damn smart for someone who didn’t finish middle school.”

Ria couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at her lips as well. “He was a genius.” She agreed.

Greg’s face slowly fell, the moment of levity crumbing away as the thought that had been pricking at his mind came into focus. “The Canadian accent, that was learned.”

Ria nodded, not quite understanding the distress that was growing in him.

“I never heard him speak in his real voice.” Greg whispered.

“It was real.” Ria assured him. “Everything he had with you, it was real. He used to tell me about your calls, your team. He was so happy to be a part of something that did so much good. He loved you guys.” Her words brought some measure of comfort, but Greg couldn’t push down the overwhelming sense of guilt and loss that was searing through him. He’d never get the chance to talk with Spike again, to hear stories about his life, to hear him ramble about something Greg didn’t understand but could feel his excitement over. It crushed him, nearly taking the air out of lungs. “Do you want to hear him talk?” Ria asked carefully.

Greg’s head shot up, his eyes locking with her’s like a lifeline. “Yes.” He said desperately.

A small smile pulled across Ria’s lips. “I’m not even supposed to have this, we weren’t supposed to record anything or take pictures together, but we did.” She said quietly. She pulled her phone out, scrolling through it. “It’s old, not the best quality.” She said hesitantly, but Greg didn’t care. He stared at the screen as she flipped the phone around, a tiny, grainy video playing back.

Three figures crouched around a table, another one walking through the background. One of the figures sitting at the table was a small girl, her brown hair braided back, Greg’s eyes flickered between the screen and Ria, putting the two together. “It’s from thirteen years ago.” Ria said softly. Thirteen years, he would have been fifteen, younger than Dean. Greg felt like he could barely breathe as he watched the other two figures look at the camera. Their smiles instantly sealed which one was Spike. His grin was exactly the same, lopsided with glinting eyes. It was the first time he’d seen that smile in months and if he hadn’t been sitting already his knees would have given out from under him. Spike’s hair was longer, touching his ears where it was pulled back with a wavy headband. Greg nearly laughed at the sight but he froze instead silently as Spike opened his mouth.

“Okay, so this is test number one of our training IED’s.” Spike said excitedly. His accent wasn’t thick, but it was present. A soft lit that made his words sound almost musical. Greg exhaled sharply, his eyes misty as they were glued on the screen. Spike elbowed the boy next to him. “Come on Nick, say something this is a big moment!”

Greg sucked in a breath as he recognized the other boy.

Nick laughed, a free sound that didn’t seem like it could have come from the man he’d met in the truck so many weeks ago. “Alright, fine. Test number one, a present for the Canadian military as so designated by our esteemed handler.” Spike scoffed next to him.

“To help them identify and disable IEDs with hidden plates.” Spike continued. “Except we added a little surprise.”

“Did you add the stickers?” Ria asked excitedly.

Spike chuckled, tussling her hair as she squeaked and shoved his hand away. “Yes, I added the stickers. I’m sure they’ll love the sparkly unicorns.”

“We were supposed to make them glow red when deactivation attempts failed.” Nick explained. “But that’s boring.”

Spike grinned even more, the same light in his eyes as when he pulled pranks on the rookies, or figured out the solution for a particularly confounding device. “It’s going to do this.” He said gleefully, slicing a wire with a small pocket knife. Immediately, the device popped, shooting up an assortment of pink and purple confetti, and small disks which Greg inferred to be Ria’s unicorn stickers. The three kids laughed, and Greg found himself fixated on the image of Spike. It was so desperately him that Greg would have frozen time if he could, pulled the boy out of the screen and saved him from everything that was to come. Every peaceful moment came rushing back to him. Sitting at the Goose joking with the team, putting shaving cream in Lou’s boots, chasing Jules with Babycakes when he upgraded her motors. The sound of Spike’s laughter echoed in his ears, long past when his childhood self cackled, “And we have two hundred of these.” And the video ended.

If he tried hard enough, Greg could almost imagine Spike sitting between them, smiling at their growing connection. The realness nearly made him sob, and somewhere deep inside him he knew what Spike would say.

“Take care of her, Boss.” It echoed in his mind, drifting away as he tried desperately to hold onto him.

Ria seemed lost in memories as well. “We got reports that some soldiers wore the stickers on their helmets.” She said softly. “As a reminder not to cut the obvious wire.”

“Do you have more?” Greg asked. His voice shook but he found he didn’t care. The tears fell as they watched video after video, Ria beginning to cry as well. The blonde boy from the background, Ben, Greg learned, was in most of them as well. He watched them grow up as they sat around a table practicing their many languages, sang to Disney movies, taught Ria how to dance. He watched them tinker with projects and light up at their successes, watched them tend to each others’ wounds and work on target practice. They celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving, New Year’s and Bastille Day, Easter and Ferragosto. He watched them hug and cheer, cry and yell. He clung to every scrap he could get. Every moment of Spike’s voice, every laugh and sob, and he cried regardless of which it was. He laughed through the tears as he watched his boy carry Ria on his shoulders, and ran a hand down his face as he watched Spike bleed, and recover, and push on to the next day.

Spike was older now, an adult. He looked the same as in his academy picture. He still ran a hand through Ria’s hair and bumped his shoulder against Nick’s. “So this is it, I guess.” He said. “We did it. It’s over. He smiled down at Ria. “You’re going to go to school, though you’re going to be smarter than all the other kids.” Ria laughed in response. She was older too, her eyes harder. Spike’s were as well. “Nick’s joined up with American Intelligence, and Ben’s off to the Army.”

Nick jostled him. “Go on, tell the masses what you’re on to.”

“Masses, you mean an encrypted computer we’re probably going to have to blow up?” Spike laughed.

“We all saved copies.” Ria muttered, meeting Greg’s eyes. “We just pretended we didn’t know.”

Spike shook his head. “Police academies’ opening up near my parents. Guess I’ll finally see what Canada’s like.” He adjusted his accent as he said it, slipping into what Greg recognized as the voice he’d use for the rest of his life. He sucked in a broken breath as the video ended. The two remained silent for a few minutes, the only sounds between them stuttering breaths and tears splattering against the table.

“We couldn’t send videos as the years went by.” Ria said. “It was harder to encrypt over cell phone when we never knew where the other one would be. But we sent photos.” Greg stared back at her. “There wasn’t a lot at first, but that changed when he joined the SRU. It was like he’d come back to life again. You gave that to him. You gave him family again, a home. He needed you as much as you needed him.”

The calm Greg had obtained over those few silent minutes broke. “I wasn’t there for him.” He croaked out. “I should have protected him.”

Ria shook her head. “You did everything you could. And he knew it. He wanted me to find you. He wanted you to know how grateful he was for everything you did.” Her voice broke and she bowed her head away, sobs shaking her frame.

Greg reached out, breaching the space between them. He set a gentle hand over hers. “I know he felt the same way about you. He didn’t leave you behind.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Ria finally looked back at him. “It wasn’t yours either.”

Greg retracted his hand as he shook his head. “I should have protected him.” He muttered. “I knew something was wrong when he took that phone call. I should have followed him.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” Ria said gently. “This was always how it was going to end.”

Greg shook his head again, more violent this time. “I wasn’t there.” His voice broke.

This time it was Ria who crossed the space, latching on to his shaking hand with one of her own. “You were there, in every way that mattered.” She said fiercely through the tears in her eyes.

“It didn’t change anything.” Greg choked out.

Ria stared back at him, eyes shining with grief and a ferocity Greg couldn't quite place. “Didn’t it?” Ria pressed. “You were there. You helped him through some of the worst moments of his life. You mattered, and he knew it at the end. Maybe it didn’t change anything, it didn’t save anyone, but it existed. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.” She took a sharp breath, steadying herself. Her voice dropped down a bit. “Sometimes all you can ask for is to know that when it’s over you left something behind worth having. He had something worth fighting for, it didn’t matter what the odds were.”

Greg nodded through her short rant, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I wanted to fight for him too.” He whispered.

Ria squeezed his hands. “You did.” She assured him. “He knew you would have gone to the ends of the earth for him. He had you, like I had him.” Her voice cracked, her own fingers beginning to tremble against Greg’s. He squeezed her hand back.

“Thank you.” He whispered through his tears.

She nodded back, her face scrunching up as the tears fell down her face once again.

They remained in silence for a long time, holding each other’s hands as they both cried. When Ria had finally run dry, she bid him goodbye and vanished without another word. Having said his piece, and heard Ria’s stories, Greg managed to find the strength to finally eat something and head to bed. He went to sleep hearing Spike’s laughter and seeing the bright eyes of his boy.

...

Christmastime had never been so quiet as Greg moved through his house like a ghost, cleaning the rising garbage and cobwebs away and picking remaining glass out of the carpet. He knew he didn’t have much time before the others arrived.

The tradition had started years ago, when Greg had grown tired of Christmas dinner in an empty house. It expanded once Spike started leaving his after one too many arguments, and Sam admitted to terse conversation across the table. They created their own Christmas, both the day they decorated the SRU for the holidays, and the day they sat down to eat together. It was typically held at Greg’s place on Christmas Eve, or the SRU itself on Christmas Day if they were on shift. When at Greg’s the kids loved their additional Christmas, with Spike’s homemade pizzelles and rainbow cookies, and Sam’s stories of decorating trees in the barracks with grenade pins. The adults loved it as well with the low stress environment and reduced cooking.

The celebration itself had been figured out over time, through trial and error as they watched each other flinch and look away, or retreat with embarrassment. It took a few years but they finally pieced together enough triggers to ensure all were avoided, and as new ones cropped up they simply worked those in too. They used paper plates and plastic utensils, silicone serving spoons, to avoid any clanging of dishes. Cups were all plastic with wide bases to avoid spillage and prevent breaking. Party crackers were paper to limit loud noises. Wine was non alcoholic, and there was always a movie playing in the background to divert attention if conversation stilled.

The first Christmas after Lou’s death was more somber, but they managed. At the end, Shelly had presented an ornament even Wordy hadn’t been privy to until that moment. It was a small, silver shield made of carefully spun glass- Lou’s badge number written across it with delicate handwriting. They left that night without a dry eye between them.

This Christmas was no different. Both Jules and Greg had tried their hands at making pizzelles and Italian rainbow cookies, and both had given up when they didn’t taste quite right. Greg’s had been hidden in the dumpster outside before the others arrived, the taste of ash and salt still in his mouth. Jules tucked hers in the bottom of their trash can where Sam wouldn’t see. Neither informed the others of their efforts. Once the kids had fallen asleep on the couch, there were no boxes to be presented to Spike. No technology for him to set up or toys for him to put together with deft fingers so they’d be prepared for the children the next morning. Ed had almost forgotten, placing Clark’s PlayStation 3 in the back of the truck before Sophie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He’d stood so long staring at it that the snow melted on his face, obscuring the tears as Sophie quietly took the box back inside. Everyone arrived with hugs and soft smiles, managing as best they could. Conversation lulled after dinner, attention focusing on the movies more and more as the kids faded off to sleep.

Spike’s badge hung silently next to Lou’s, together again next to the dinner table.

...

Greg called Ria the next morning, leaving a short message for them to meet again. She arrived without preamble, taking in the Christmas tree with a soft smile. Greg was at the table, a folder in front of him. They skipped casual conversation.

“You said Spike taught you everything he knew?” Greg asked.

Ria stared back at him, hovering just past the doorway. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel about disarming bombs?”

The corner of Ria’s mouth lifted. A goofy, lopsided grin. “What better way to spend a day?”

Chapter Text

Spike stood across the street, tucked back in the shadows. With the deep night surrounding him, and falling snow blocking the street lights, he knew no one inside could see him. A soft smile crossed his face as he watched his team pass around a basket of rolls, the rainbow lights of the tree sparking in their eyes. He sighed lightly, and withdrew his phone from his pocket. The screen alerted him to one new message. He stared at it for a long moment before finally clicking on it and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey, buddy.” He heard Greg suck in a breath that cracked at the very end. “I’m sure this phone is tucked away in a drawer somewhere.” He paused again, another rattling breath. “I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. We miss you.”

Spike’s grip tightened around the phone, fingers shaking against the plastic. The cold wasn’t enough to bring feeling back to the aching cavity in his chest. He bit his lip, exhaled sharply, and let the phone drop back to his side. He let the tears fall for only a minute, let them freeze against the ground, then tossed the phone away to be buried by the snow on the side of the road. With a last glance at his family sitting around the table, he turned away and walked into the dark.