The Law of Averages

Well this is awkward," Dan stated. Awkwardly.

Was it time to fess up? Was he even allowed to? Cornelius was at more risk than Dan was, really, and these two were his family. Dan didn't even have to explain his own power; it was perfectly plausible that a genuinely mutated short-hop could accomplish what Dan had against Bartholomew. So why not?

Well for one, Cornelius hadn't told them himself, and there might be a good reason for that. Or maybe the older officer just didn't think it necessary. Or maybe he thought that was what Dan wanted. They'd never really talked about it. Either way, Dan had one last card to try before he broke.

"Cornelius does know," he acknowledged, "and I'm not sure what I'm allowed to tell you."

"You're going to tell us everything," Freya repeated. "The two of you have been keeping secrets that affect us, and it's time to clear the air. Cornelius isn't here, so you have to do it."

Connor frowned at her indignantly. "And when did you figure this out, dearest, and why is this the first I've heard of it!?"

She broke eye contact with Dan to roll them at Connor. "It was written on their faces, plain as day, when Cornelius told Daniel about the breakout. I assumed that Daniel helped your uncle in some small, dubiously legal way, but that doesn't explain why Andros Bartholomew is visiting Daniel's old home. I might normally ignore it, but given our friendship, what impacts him might eventually impact us." Her eyes swiveled back to him and he froze. "So. Speak."

Dan scratched his head. She was like a dog with a bone, clearly unwilling to let it go. He either needed a plausible lie or to just speak the truth. There was no reason not to tell at this point. Anything he could come up with might actually be worse than the truth, and he wasn't exactly ashamed of what he did. It was just a little disconcerting, admitting to picking a fight with a terrorist to a couple of cops.

"Fuck it," he said with a shrug. "Fine. You got me." He raised his hands up dramatically. "Good ol' Barty tried to kidnap me too. Succeeded, as well."

Both of his friends reeled back in shock.

Dan continued, "He stuck me in the basement of some random booby trapped building and stuck a bomb inside of me. Claimed it would blow up if I left a certain area."

"That's a horrible position to be in," Connor said with sympathy. His body language made it seem like he would've patted Dan on the back if not for the wire mesh between the front and rear seats. "Trust me, I understand how it feels to be made helpless. My uncle saved you, I suppose? Though I don't understand why you would keep that from us."

"Ah." Dan scratched his cheek. "No. Turns out my ability to selectively choose what I teleport with me also applies to things inside of me. And... to Bartholomew's vapor form. I might've, perhaps, accidentally amputated a few of his limbs. And some of his face. And skin." Dan held his fingers together. "Just a bit."

Connor blinked, and in a hollow voice, said, "Oh. I see."

Dan winced. "I was understandably upset at being kidnapped. Also, the whole"—he gestured at Connor—"experimenting on my friends thing."

Connor turned away from him, to slump in his seat. "Yes, that was very thoughtful of you."

The younger man seemed awfully dejected that Dan hadn't been rendered helpless and hopeless by a terrorist. Dan would try not to take that personally. Connor was still learning to not be a pompous little jackass. It was a process.

"Anyway, I called Cornelius for help," Dan admitted.

Freya nodded. "He covered it up, and took credit for the capture."

Dan snapped his fingers, then pointed at her. "Exactly."

"Does the FBI know?" she asked.

Dan shook his head. "Don't think so. Cornelius said he didn't tell a soul. So... keep it to yourselves, pretty please?"

"Naturally," Freya replied, rolling her eyes for what might have been the fifth time in an hour. "Even if I weren't fond of Abigail, it's as I said before: any trouble that found you would inevitably affect Cornelius, and Connor in turn."

Dan blinked. "No need to get sentimental on my account, Freya."

She ignored his quip, and brought up the laptop. "We need to talk about next steps."

Connor shook himself free of his malaise and deigned to contribute. "Obviously, we will have to involve a higher ranking officer. We also need to secure medical assistance for the store clerk, and file a proper missing person report for the security guard. Unfortunately, there's no actual proof that it was Bartholomew, but a medical examination of the clerk might reveal something useful."

Freya seemed uncertain. "We could work on this on our own time. We aren't required to bring in anyone else, so long as we're looking into it off duty."

Connor stared at her, aghast. "Freya, that's practically obstruction of justice! It's almost criminal to not bring this evidence to light, not to mention the resources we are casting aside by going outside our roles as law enforcement!"

Freya clicked her tongue with dissatisfaction. "The department is making plenty of progress on its own. I doubt anything will even come of this." She gestured to the laptop. "Why do you think your uncle has been in meetings all day? They're clearly planning a raid in the coming days!"

Connor frowned. "You think so?"

"Obviously," she replied. "I imagine that they are simply waiting for the bureaucratic go ahead, and perhaps backup from out of city." Her eyes flicked to Dan. "How is that going, by the way? Has Abigail mentioned anything?"

"Not yet," Dan answered quickly. "She thinks something else is going on, though. Her grandmother is acting fishy."

"Grandfather says the same," Freya agreed. "Whatever it is, though, is beyond our paygrade. This," she slapped the laptop, "this is something we can work on. Your uncle can handle the bulk of the dangerous work, but if we can follow Bartholomew's trail, we may find others who have escaped the APD's net."

Dan thought she made decent points, though he was certain most of it was conjured by a desire for revenge, but Connor was adamant, "No. I insist we involve someone more experienced into this venture. At the very least, a superior officer might catch something we've missed."

Freya made an expression that took a few seconds for Dan to place. She was pouting! The beautiful, stern, fierce woman stared at Connor with wide eyes and a quivering lip. Connor wavered, but held firm.

"No, Freya. We're not getting fired over this. It's stupid."

"Fine!" She crossed her arms and cocked her head. "Who did you have in mind?"

"Anyone we bring in will ask the same questions of Daniel that you did. I suppose that only leaves one choice." He turned to Freya with a hopeful face. "We should call Officer Pierre-Louise."

Freya managed to perfectly mirror Dan's own expression, a twisted thing caught somewhere between agonizing pain and begrudging acceptance.

"If you must," she stated acidly. "I truly do not understand your obsession with the man."

"He's not that bad," Dan offered hesitantly. "He's a good guy just... enthusiastic."

Freya's eyes flashed. "He complimented me on my perfectly toned glutes, the cretin."

Connor blinked at her. "He was complimenting your work ethic, love. He said the same thing to me when he caught me doing squats in the gym."

Freya snapped open her mouth to reply, then slowly clicked it shut. She blinked several times in quick succession, then gave her head a shake. "Whatever. Make the call."

Connor did so, and Gregoir quickly agreed to meet with them. He arrived within the hour, out of uniform and in his personal car. The giant French Viking drove a bright purple, 50's era, Volkswagen Beetle. The classic car puttered up to the passenger side of the parked cruiser, and Dan watched as Gregoir hand-cranked the window down. He flashed them a bright grin.

"My friends!" he exclaimed with his normal volume. The trees behind him shook as several birds were startled awake and fled.

Dan waved from the backseat, and Gregoir frowned. "Daniel, have you been arrested?"

"No," Freya interjected quickly. "Sir, we have something to show you. It's important, but I think some subtlety is required."

He frowned at her, abashed. "Subtlety is hardly my strong suit, Officer Valentine."

"Don't we know it," Dan muttered under his breath.

"But if it is required of me, I shall certainly do my best!" Gregoir continued, his enthusiasm undimmed. "What is it you need to show me?"

They laid it all out. Gregoir listened to Dan's story, and watched his pilfered videos, with an intensely focused expression. He was uncharacteristically quiet, somehow bottling up his intense reserves of energy until they'd finished their explanation. At the end of it all, rather than questions, he simply sighed and dropped back into the seat of his car.

"This," he said, gesturing to the computer, "would have been tremendously helpful a few days ago. It was a clever thing you did, Daniel, if a bit grey in the legal sense. I'd advise against it in the future, however. The department is comprised of professionals. This is what we do for a living."

Dan frowned at him, glancing to his two friends. Connor seemed confused, but Freya's eyes widened.

"The raids," she murmured. "We aren't waiting for more manpower?"

Gregoir shook his head. "No indeed. We managed to track the unique energy signature of one of the weapons stolen from the FBI armory to a gym in the Western district. Surveillance captured a picture of the brutish Natural who savaged the field office, and several previously identified Crew members, people who clashed with officers during the gang war. Better to strike while the iron is hot. A judge signed a search warrant two hours ago, and SPEAR Teams are prepping for an assault even as we speak."

"Now?" Dan squawked. After all this work, the impatience and the waiting, and the APD chooses now of all times to make its move!?

Well... good for them, he supposed.

Gregoir checked his watch, then shrugged. "In thirty minutes, the Austin branch of the Coldeyes Crew, and whoever they are working with, should be in police custody."