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This story arc has been published as a novel!

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---

Ain't Got Nothin' But Time

More people came to visit while they were sitting shiva than to the graveside service, which was just fine as far as Ira was concerned. Not many of his old friends were willing (or able) to brave the sleet and snow and freezing temperatures, though he had appreciated those that had. The tables in the kitchen and living room were piled high with food people had brought, and the wine rack on top of the refrigerator was restocked. Suzanne moved around the room when people were there, the gracious hostess, somehow buoyed up when things should have been beating her down. He watched her with vague admiration through the slowness of his brain.

Andrea chatted amiably with people from her enthronement in the corner that day. Her husband David was whisking away abandoned glasses and plates and dealing with other logistical matters in a low-key way that made Ira think uncharitably of a butler.

People talked to Ira. Sometimes he recognized them. Nox the Night-Stalker still had those amazing eyes that reached into you and grabbed you by your figurative lapels so you couldn't help but pay attention to him. Madame Destiny was another person you couldn't ignore, and that strange apprentice of hers... The Equestrian showed up the second or third day, all apologies for not meeting him to give him warning. She finally realized he wasn't really responding to her, or anyone, and had just hugged him hard. Her horse patted him on the shoulder and given him a sad look.

Ah, how the great -- or at least mediocre -- have fallen. Pity from a horse.

Ira didn't recognize her until she had stood in front of him for a long moment, young and nervous in her black dress and battered brown winter coat. She smiled tremulously when he focused on her and put out her hand. "Mr. Metropolitan, I'm... I'm very sorry."

He saw the details of her: brown hair, pale skin, hazel eyes, and freckles. Very, very young. He stood abruptly and took her hand. "I... I'm glad you came. Ruth... the Ultimate, you know... explained what happened. I'm afraid I don't understand all of it..."

"Neither do I," she said with a twitch of a smile. Her hand was hot and a little damp and after shaking Ira's hand, she shoved it into the pocket of her coat and stood awkwardly.

"Why don't you sit down?" Ira said, gesturing to the chair next to his. "Do you want a drink or a plate of something? So many people have brought food, I don't think Suzanne and I will be hungry for months. Ruth brought a big pot of red rice, and the Silver Guardian brought over her potstickers, and Carolus brought these little... cheese things that I'm a little afraid of..." He was vaguely aware that he hadn't spoken so much since it all happened.

She started to sit, then rose, alarmed. "Oh, no! That's fine, I'm not really hungry right now."

Ira made pat-patting motions and seated himself. She sat down too. They looked over the living room together: it was crowded with people who were para or friends of paras. Several of the Guardians were there, along with some of the ex-Junior Guardians who were active when Josh was active. A few of the Gold Stars had drifted in and out, but there was, understandably, no big organizational attendance. Ira spotted a couple of the Young Cosmics, High Speed's youngest boy Mercury and that android the Cosmics had rescued some time back -- Citizen Kane or something.

Suzanne, sleek and handsome in a grey pantsuit, swept up, smiling at the girl. "Thought you might like something warm," she said. "It's pretty bitter out there." She slid a cup of hot mulled cider into the guest's hand, winked at Ira, and made her way back into the crowd.

Ira and the girl watched her go.

"She... doesn't seem like a widow," the girl ventured, sipping her cider.

"It's been hard on her, all these years," Ira said. He sighed. "I expect she's been ready to get on with her life for a long time now."

The girl looked at him. "What's going to happen now? I mean, will you live alone?"

Ira shrugged. "I don't know. This is her house, you know. I earned my keep, as much as I could, by helping take care of Josh. And now..." He shrugged again. "We haven't talked about it."

"She wouldn't throw you out?" the girl said, sounding a little outraged.

Ira smiled. "She'd be well within her rights to do it. I'll just... I'll find some place. It'll be fine. But what about you?"

The girl's gaze dropped to the carpet. "I... well, I'm where I wanted to be."

"You are?"

She nodded, looking into her cup of cider, then taking a swig. "I made a deal with her... it... whatever it was. It would get me out of my parents' nightmare of a house, out of that crappy little town, and to Wonder City, and I wouldn't have to deal with any of it but the aftermath. And she... it... got the use of my body until its mission was over."

Ira stared at her, struggling with disbelief. Then he thought about the second Bombshell, who had told him late one night after the gang's Christmas party about how she'd gotten her para powers: she'd been terrified to leave her father's house on her own, afraid of the streets and afraid of her father, so had preferred to be taken aboard an alien spacecraft, bombarded with unknown rays, and taken off to a distant planet to fight in someone else's war to staying even one more day there.

Really, it wasn't that odd.

"I understand," he said, patting her hand. "Sometimes you have that one opportunity, and you have to take it."

"Yeah," she said. "I still have my room at the Y, and she... it... we got a job at this coffee house. So it's not like I'm living on the streets or anything."

"You're doing all right, then?" he said.

She nodded. "It'll be fine."

They smiled at each other for a long moment. Then she stood up. "I should go. I'll... see you around the Y, right?"

"Sure thing," he said, rising to take her hand again. "I'll be back there next week. Thank you for coming."

"No problem," she said, clasping his hand firmly.

She took a step away, then turned back. "I forgot to tell you," she said, "my name isn't actually Lizzie."

Ira smiled sadly. "I'd wondered."

"My name is Robyn," she said in a low voice. "But... would you mind if I kept using Lizzie? I... kind of like it. And I don't really like who I'm named for."

Ira's smile threatened to crack his face. "No, darlin'. I don't mind. And I think you would've liked my Lizzie, if you could ever have met her."

"Thank you." She hesitated, then kissed him on the cheek. "See you around."

He was still smiling as he settled back into his chair.

The Outsider came over to give him a cup of tea. "That the girl?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sweet kid," he said. "Nothing like her, of course. I wonder why I thought so?"

---

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wonder_city: (Default)
This story arc has been published as a novel!

Buy in print at Createspace or Amazon!
Buy the ebook at Kindle | Kobo | Apple Store | Scribd | Inktera

---

Of Blessed Memory

Suzanne stood between Andrea and Ira, looking down at the plain wooden coffin with its Guardians flag drape. Ira held her hand tightly, his fingers cold in the frigid air. The forest green pavilion was all that stood between them and the sleet that was resolutely and appropriately falling on the company.

Attendees were a little sparse for the death of a superhero, even if he had turned villain in the end. The full set of Guardians, even the Golden Guardian, who was almost never seen any more, stood in the precipitation, tiny, sharp ice droplets hissing off their armor, black bands with a bronze metal stripe conspicuously present on everyone's arm (though there was no clarification as to which Bronze Guardian it applied). A smattering of Gold Stars -- Midnight Mask, the Ultimate, and Sekhmet -- stood in a cluster near them; the Ultimate and Sekhmet were out of costume in black suits and long black wool coats, but Mask was in his dark blue (and hopefully insulated) spandex. Behind Suzanne and the rest of the family, huddled under the inadequate roof, were some of Ira's friends from the old days: Lady Justice, Carolus Lew, Harry Dash, Atomica, and a wizened, bent old man with a walker that she suspected might be Nox the Night-stalker. Madame Destiny stood to the side of Ira, resplendently plump in a long black gown that had a rather daring neckline for a woman of her years, arrayed in her best mystical jewelry, including a vast gold pendant set with a dozen or more different cabochon stones that reclined luxuriously against her cleavage. Mother Necessity's three granddaughters stood near Andrea, who had been a good friend of their mother's, as well as being their honorary aunt.

From the corner of her good eye, she noticed Simon, sharply dressed in a tailored black suit but still on crutches, accompanied by the Hispanic-looking giantess she now knew was Megan Amazon, in a less well-fitted black suit. Megan held a golf umbrella over both their heads. They kept a respectful distance from the proceedings, not coming within conventional earshot, though Suzanne guessed that Simon could hear everything anyway.

She herself wasn't really hearing what the rabbi was saying. She stared at the coffin, felt Ira's fingers squeezing her hand painfully. He'd watched Josh's body stop breathing, the Outsider had said, weeping the whole time, and had let himself be led away and put to bed after it was over. He'd barely said a word since and didn't seem to be sleeping much, though he'd eaten when someone had put food in front of him. She was going to have to discuss the situation with Andrea, who was already fairly harrowed by events and the media. But Andrea at least had David, who worshipped the ground she walked on and took meticulous care of her.

And Suzanne had Simon.

Ira had no one but some hired companions. Would the Guardians stop footing the bill for those now?

She glanced aside at the old man, and felt both oppressed by the responsibility he represented and desperately sad for and protective of him. She loved Ira, as troublesome as he could be. Her own parents were gone -- dead, possibly, but she'd never bothered to find out. They'd given her far too much insanity over the years for her to care.

The coffin was pale wood with brass fittings. There were no flowers.

Suzanne had always known that Josh was a bit of a bastard, but hadn't known that he was a killer. Wasn't that always the way, though? Hardly anyone really expects her or his husband to come home from work one day, having decided on committing mayhem. Not really. Really? She'd always known it was possible -- hell, she'd specialized in stories like this when she was a reporter. Well, at the end of her career, anyway. Maybe she should've paid attention to the things that were catching her attention then, after being married to Josh for several years.

She tried to summon back a memory of loving him and failed. All she could remember was Mitch -- the sweet, unkempt, desperately poor Southern boy who sent nearly all his money home to his mother and the siblings living with her. He was a tall and thin and dark-haired, with a farmer's tan and a tendency to have five o'clock shadow at eleven in the morning. He worked as the Guardians' receptionist and administrative assistant when he wasn't in his Guardian armor, and they paid for him to take his GED and start college. They'd made him have extensive dental work done on his teeth, which were brown and chipped and full of cavities, since he'd grown up without fluoridated water or even a single dentist appointment. She'd first met him -- out of armor -- when he'd come back to the Guardians headquarters, face full of novocaine and giddy from three hours in the chair. Josh had been busy, so she took Mitch out for drinks. He slurred out his life story to her in a desperate attempt to avoid thinking about what had just been done to him.

She thought that, perhaps, she'd fallen for him then.

The rabbi was wrapping up his speech, whatever it was he'd said, and she found herself weeping. She covered her mouth with her handkerchief and choked a sob. Poor Mitch. Poor idealistic superheroic Mitch. He'd just been doing the right thing, like he always had. And Josh...

And Josh...

Andrea put an arm around her waist and patted her shoulder. Ira turned his watery gaze to her and tightened his lips in something close to a smile.

The coffin was lowered into the grave. She took her turn with the spade, and bit her lower lip to keep herself from grinning vindictively as the clods of earth echoed on the wood.

Then it was finished. The rabbi was shaking her hand, and Ira's, and Andrea's.

Netted between Josh's parents, Suzanne turned away from the grave and started into the sleet. Various black-suited undertakers with golf umbrellas materialized to escort them to the limousine.

She looked up from the ground once, and squarely met Simon's gaze. He hadn't replaced his shattered glasses yet, and the wolf's eyes probably disturbed other people. But not her, not now, not any more. She wanted to throw herself into those eyes and not have to think for a while.

He mouthed three words to her. She stared at him for a moment, stricken, and opened her mouth to respond, but was gently pushed into the limo by Andrea.

The door closed, and she indulged in a savage torrent of weeping, though she couldn't have explained why.

---

From Jude:

And here is a bonus episode because I couldn't think of a better way to thank my latest donor! I hope you all enjoy it. :)









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