“Please Don’t Let The Fire Die”

By Draca Darkwingette

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To anyone who has ever had to bear a secret alone.

This is dedicated to my own family; my Mom, Dad, and young brother. My parents and brother really made me who I am today; much like, I think, Wildwing's parents and Nosedive influenced him. You taught me a lot, and always encourage my dreams. Thank you. Love you guys; miss you, Dad.

This story is also dedicated to Dawn Powell.

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I came in that morning feeling slightly off, disoriented, as though I should be remembering something about today. Something important. But what was it?  We were practicing that afternoon but we didn’t have a game, so----

I was startled to see my brother sitting by the television, up quite early for him. It was barely dawn. Duke was usually the only other one awake by now so I was surprised to see Nosedive. What was more shocking, he didn’t have the T.V. turned on. He was simply sitting there on the couch, apparently brooding about something.

When I slipped up closer behind him I saw he was holding a photograph in his hands, staring at it with a expression that I hadn’t seen on his face since . . .

“ Morning, ‘Dive,” I said, startling him. “What have you got there?”

He turned to look at me, trying to mask the sad expression he had been wearing only a moment before. “Nothing, Bro,” he managed, feigning indifference. “I was just, you know, reminiscing about our old days on Puck----”

I snatched the photograph from his hands so I could take a better look. “----World,” he finished lamely.

I barely heard him. I was too busy staring at the photograph in shock. It was a picture of . . .of us. Something like----maybe ten years ago?  I was barely a teenager and Nosedive was no more than seven or eight. We were grinning happily, standing in the park in our skates, ready for a day on the ice. Behind us, smiling proudly, were our parents.

I remembered that day. We had spent it skating; Mom had helped Nosedive start to learn some of the finer points of hockey with Dad and me joining in to play a few games . . . we had gotten another skater passing through the park to snap the photo of the four of us. To remember the day by.

“Wow . . .” it was all I could think to say. I looked back down at Nosedive and was shocked to see that his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Where did you get this?” I finally asked after several moments of silence.

Nosedive paused to take a deep breath, looking off somewhere into space. After a moment he turned back to me and said, “I brought it with me from Puckworld. Well, of course; where else would I get it from?  I’ve kept that thing in my pocket since that day when . . . you know, for awhile.” His near slip of the tongue seemed to cut at him. “I always had it with me, no matter what. When Canard asked us to come with him, when we were training, when we went on that last mission----I’d always bring it with me. You know.”

“It’s the anniversary, isn’t it?  Of that day?” I said softly, putting together my own initial feelings of foreboding that morning and Nosedive’s shocking sensitivity. “I knew there was something I was forgetting about today----”

“It’s finally been a year, man,” said Nosedive quietly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. I had a sudden flashback of my younger brother, one year ago to the day, as I had seen him when we had both begun to suspect that something about our parents was wrong. They had not come back when they had promised. Neither of us ever said anything regarding their whereabouts, but I felt sure that they had both been captured by one of Dragaunus’s league of slave drones and shipped off to work somewhere----and I knew that my brother thought about it as well. But to say it out-loud, to admit fully what had happened, was too much for either of us to bear. Easier, somehow, to keep silent with our thoughts, like an unspoken secret. But Nosedive had moved his hand across his face in that exact same motion several hours after the initial realization and anxiety had started, the same unbelieving expression of anguish on his face. To see it now made something in my stomach twist.

A month after that incident Canard had asked us to join the Resistance----and a chance to explore what had happened to our parents was an opportunity too good to pass up. Not that we didn’t want the chance to defend our home. But to get at Dragaunus was just an added bonus. As far as I could tell, no one but ourselves and Canard knew that our parents were gone, no one else on the team. And not even Canard could tell me where they had disappeared to. But Nosedive and I still hadn’t forgotten what had happened, and as much as I had tried to push it behind me, it was surfacing again with this strange anniversary date. A year. A year since our parents had disappeared.

We still wondered about them. What happened to them. At least, I did; but I knew full well that Nosedive thought about it too. This proved it, if nothing else. I prayed every day that they were still alive, and well----but until we made it back to Puckworld (if we ever did), there was no way to tell. Only memories remained for us now.

“I remember that day.” I spoke slowly, not knowing what else to say. “We had a lot of fun. Remember when you slipped and Dad tried to pull you up and you both ended up in a heap on the ice?”

“I’ve never seen Mom laugh that hard,” said Nosedive, eyes still gleaming, but with a hint of humor creeping into his tone. “Except maybe when you went to block her puck and realized too late that she was on your team that game.”

“Well, you win a few, you lose a few,” I smiled, and then even laughed a bit, remembering how fun it had been. “I remember----”

At that moment the door slid open and Duke came in. Like us, he was dressed in his civilian clothes; that slick outfit that still put me in mind of a cat burglar. Over it all was his ever-present floor-length purple overcoat, with a swathing of green across the shoulder. The edge of the coat swept lightly at his ankles like a cape as he walked towards us.

I handed the picture swiftly back to Nosedive, who immediately hid it somewhere in a concealed pocket of his vest. Looking at Duke’s face I realized that he knew something important had just taken place between us, but was choosing not to comment on it. Duke was never one to pry into things you didn’t feel like sharing. He was there for you when you needed him----but he would not try to draw you out of something you’d rather not mention. I had the feeling he knew all about the importance of secrets and was trying to keep a balance going. I don’t pry too far, his face often said, So it would be nice if you all would do the same.

Instead, he simply said, “ ‘Morning, ‘Wing, ‘Dive. What’s goin’ on for today?”

“We’ll be practicing before lunch,” I said quickly, trying to give Nosedive a few moments to compose himself. “After that, the day’s free----as long as Dragaunus doesn’t try anything.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t t’at be a nice break from the normal routine?” smiled Duke as he made his way across the room. As he approached the opposite door he turned to regard me. “Listen, I’m goin’ out for a bit, but I’ll be back for practice, ‘kay?”

I nodded my agreement. He smiled again and whirled out the door. Wherever he was going, he seemed to be in a hurry. Something was ringing in alarm in the back of my head, ever so faintly, but I had no idea what it was in connection with. Probably just more bad memories. I watched Duke go thoughtfully as I pushed the feeling of uneasiness back down, then turned again to Nosedive.

“You okay, Baby Bro?” I asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” said Nosedive, his voice almost a whisper. A single tear finally broke through his control and slid down the side of his face, dropping onto his beak. “I just wish . . . If only things hadn’t . . . I miss them.”

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly, “Me too. But we’ll find them one day, ‘Dive. I promise.”

“I know,” he murmured.

I gave Nosedive’s shoulder a careful squeeze and left the room, in the opposite direction Duke had taken. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Wildwing, have you seen Duke?”

It was only about an hour later. I had gone to my bunk intending to clean a bit but had gotten temporarily off-track in going through an old collection of comic books. Nosedive had stored them in my room, “for a day or two while I straighten up my room, Bro!  It’ll be SO much easier to fix the rest of my stuff up if I get these comics out of the way. Just a few days, ‘Wing, I promise!” 

That had been three months ago, of course; and the comic books hadn’t moved. So I figured I might as well go through them and return them to Nosedive. I was debating as to whether or not my brother would actually read something entitled Frankie Ferret’s Furry Friends when Mallory’s voice interrupted me.

“Oh, hey, Mal,” I said, rising up from where I had sat on the floor to sort comics. “Come in.”

Mallory stepped into the room, raising an eyebrow at the comic books piled on the floor.

“Oh, that,” I grimaced, following her gaze. “Some old books of ‘Dive’s. I’m trying to decide if he’d actually want any of these back, really----”

She stooped down and picked up the top comic. “ ‘Frankie Ferret’s Adventures in the Forest’,” she read out loud from the front page. “Hmmm,” she mused. “Doesn’t exactly sound like Nosedive’s idea of entertainment.”

“That’s what I was thinkin’,” I smiled. “Sooo . . . you, ah, wanted to ask me something?”

“Yeah,” said Mallory, placing the comic back on the small stack. “Have you seen Duke today?”

“Actually, yeah,” I answered, sitting back down and picking up another comic. The Death of Dead Man! Now that sounded more like my baby brother. I put it into the “Save” pile. “I saw him early this morning. He said he was heading out for awhile but that he’d be back in time for practice.”

“Oh,” said Mallory. Her tone was odd and I slowly raised my head to regard her. She was looking at the floor with an absent-minded expression that I know instantly to be fake.

“Why?” I said finally, putting another two comics in the “Save” pile.

“He’s always been running off this past month----” Mallory blurted out, but caught herself as if she was afraid to go on.

“I know,” I said carefully, putting a comic in the “Toss” pile. “But surely you don’t still suspect that Duke would return to a life of crime, after all this time . . .”

“No,” she said, honestly. “I don’t. I’m just worried about him. He’s been acting . . . strangely lately.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. I would admit that. Over the past month or so Duke had become withdrawn; as distant as when I had first met him. I didn’t like it . . .but I knew better than to pry at his reasons. Everybody got a little depressed every now and then; it was normal. Duke would come out of it eventually. He always did. He was too strong-willed and optimistic about life not to pull out of it.

“Say,” I added after a moment, “What do you need him for? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no,” explained Mallory, shifting her weight. “I just . . . I was just wondering.”

“Well, he’ll be back eventually,” I murmured, distributing a large stack of comics in their respective piles.

“Yeah . . . Wildwing?”

“Hmmm?” I was so intent on trying to figure out if Draca Darkwingette was some sort of illegal spin-off on our team that I wasn’t paying her much attention.

“Do you . . .” she hesitated so long that I finally looked back up at her. “Do you think Duke’s in some kind of trouble?”

“No more than usual,” I grinned at her. The grin faded as I realized she wasn’t reacting. “Mallory. What’s up here?”

“I-I don’t know!” she said suddenly. “Duke has just been so strange the past few weeks!  It’s like . . . it’s like when we first teamed up on Puckworld. He was so distant at first. Like he was afraid----not to trust us so much, just to . . . to open up to us. And he’s like that again.”

She looked at the ground for a moment, then raised her head to look into my eyes steadily. “And I don’t think I like it very much.”

“I don’t like it either, Mallory,” I said softly. “Look, I’ll have a talk with him when he gets back. See if I can figure out what’s bothering him. I don’t think I’ll have much luck . . . but it’s worth a shot.”

“Thanks,” said Mallory, breathing such a sigh of relief that I hid a smile, realizing that that was what she had wanted all along----for me to go talk to Duke. She didn’t want to do it herself; but she cared enough about him to want someone to do it. The thought made me internally grin. She liked our friend more than she’d ever admit.

“Okay, well, I told Tanya I’d go with her to,” she groaned, “Lectric Land before practice, so I better get going to meet her. She’ll think I tried to hide from her in the locker room again.”

“Have fun,” I winked, watching as Mallory withdrew out the door, moaning all the way. I smiled to myself. Mallory was okay.

But try as I might, I could not get my mind back on the comics. And before I even knew what I was doing, I had gone to Duke’s bunk. To wait for him. To find out what was going on.

I found out more, so much more, than I wanted to know. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everyone was already up and about as I made my way to Duke’s bunk. It wouldn’t have mattered much if they had seen me----I would have explained, perfectly honestly, that I needed to talk to Duke and I was simply going to wait in his room for him to come back. But everyone was busy and no one was hanging around the hallways to note my passing through. Which suited me fine. I was too pensive for company at the moment.

I arrived at Duke’s room quickly. The doors to our bunks only lock from the inside; so I simply pressed the main button of the panel and the door slid open. I sighed as I stepped into the room and watched as the door slipped shut behind me.

Sitting down in an armchair near the entrance, I sank back into the cushioning with a sigh. I had been in Duke’s bunkroom often enough before, to ask him a favor or simply to talk. Our friendship had become quite strong. For out of everyone on the team, it was Duke who had helped me the most in becoming a leader. Not just his encouragement from the beginning, although certainly that as well . . . but just----just believing in me. For carrying out my orders without question; for following my leadership without criticism. He had given me what I needed most: respect. As a leader, and as a teammate, and as a friend.

The others had too, of course . . . but Duke had done it in a deeper, more understanding way than the rest. My only thought was that Duke knew of the pressures of leadership from his time running his mob back on Puckworld, and so he respected my difficulties and could relate to them. But other than that, I was not exactly sure of why our friendship was so strong. I just knew it was.

I just thought it was.

I sat up then and rubbed a hand across my face. My eyes traced slowly around the neat-kept room. Our bunks are fairly large, and there was enough to see in Duke’s that my gaze was drawn across the room, moving from one thing to another: the large folded mat leaning against the wall that Duke drug out daily to practice his sword-training exercises on, the open closet with bits of purple and crimson fabric hanging out of the doorway, the large bookshelf covered in novels that ranged in genre from fantasy and science fiction adventures to classic literature, the chest of drawers that I knew were probably filled with clothes and a few other things (he had to keep his . . . tools of the trade somewhere), the bed in the corner, the small television, the polished writing desk with the jaggedly-toothed dagger resting on it----

Wait a minute.

I pushed up from the chair and crossed over to the desk. I didn’t feel as if I was intruding; after all, the dagger was right on top in plain view. I picked it up gingerly.

It was about twelve inches long and made of brightly-polished steel-colored metal. Points of light glistened from the tip of each serrated edge as I turned it over and over in my hands. The hilt was wrapped in a tightly-wound velvety material; except for the pommel, which was a hard steel top that accented the overall appearance of coldness.

“What would Duke be doing with such a . . . such a wicked-looking weapon?” I murmured to myself, running one finger gingerly down the flat of the blade. “It’s not like Duke to carry anything like this. This isn’t for defense, it’s for----this is for attack----”

I stopped the words with a shake of my head and went to lay the dagger back down on the swathe of blood-crimson material it was resting on. That would have been the end of it, too; the end of everything that happened next, if only I hadn’t seen a scrap of yellowing paper sticking out beneath the cloth.

I did hesitate a moment. This was Duke’s private property; I had no right to be snooping around his room. But this was right on top of the desk, in plain view of anyone who might come in. And considering how strangely Duke had been acting lately, I honestly believed in my heart of hearts that I was only trying to find out what had been plaguing my teammate and friend lately. I wouldn’t have pried into Duke’s life like that for any other reason----because I knew how much his privacy, and his dignity, meant to him.

But I needed to know, for his good as well as the team’s, what was going on. And I was hoping that this dagger, which was highly unusual even for Duke, would give me that clue. And maybe I’d also get a clue from whatever this paper was as well . . .

It wasn’t a paper, it was an envelope. Actually, it was two envelopes, yellowed and brittle from being folded and re-folded so many times. The creases were deep and positioned exactly.

I unfolded them and peered at the fronts of each carefully. One was labled simply Duke in sharp, harsh script; the other had, in looser but calmer writing, Duke L’Orange. I hesitated a moment, feeling a growing sense of guilt. But after a glance at the knife still gleaming from the tabletop I felt my nerve return. I opened the letter with the thick lettering of Duke’s first name across its envelope, and skimmed through it briefly.

The words that caught my attention were enough to make me read it through again carefully. 

Duke,

I know it’s been awhile. I don’t expect you care. Not that I blame you. What’s done is done, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.

But I’m writing to you, O Fearless Leader, for a reason. Really. I don’t know if you care about us anymore, now that you’re only looking out for yourself, but I thought even this may turn your interest. Nothing that I can tell you in writing, of course. Too risky. You might remember real risk from the old days, eh, friend?  Meet me at nine tonight at McGinty’s ; I have some important news for you, something that I normally wouldn’t bother you with----except this endangers the Brotherhood, and whether you still care about us or not, well, I really don’t know where else to turn. It’s fallen apart without your leadership----this is your last chance to redeem yourself.

Hope to see you there.

~~~Tamaulec 

Well. That cryptic letter had certainly been a big help. Hmm.

Wondering why I was even bothering, I turned to the other envelope. I shook my head for a minute, then slid it open carefully. 

To an old friend, the infamous Duke L’Orange,

Well, well, well, after all this time. Who would have thought?  Tamaulec told me all about it, damn him. Never know if I can trust him or not. But this news seems fairly reliable. About your little, ah, “incident” a few days ago. Normally I’m not one to mince words but you must admit this is a bit of a touchy subject. No matter. I’m writing for two reasons.

First off here, understand that I am surprised, sure, but maybe a bit . . . relieved. I was afraid that the rumors were true----but surely the great Duke L’Orange wouldn’t go soft!  I couldn’t believe it. I must say I was a bit . . . hell, shocked to see you come back with a name for yourself in such vengeance; murder is a bit harsh, you know. But, listen to me, like I have room to talk. I’ve been known to end a few in my day----well!  That’s not important; Hah!  Just relieved to know you’re still on our side, Sir. A great relief. And two Resistance members, at that!  I know the Resistance isn’t doing anything of particular interest or concern to the Brotherhood right now but if they actually manage to get their asses in gear and get rid of those damn Saurians, who knows how long it’ll be until they get bored and start poking their beaks into our business, looking for something else to do?  And, hell, those two were undercover. Always a risk to have Resistance members sneaking around, pretending to be something they’re not. Nice save on your part.

 My heart was pounding, but I could hardly stop reading now.

 Okay, but the other problem here is that those two may have had more behind them. Damn Tamaulec’s thinking something needs to be done about their kids. Yeah, the damn kids, for Duck’s sake. Tamaulec did some, ah, research for you about that. No permanent damage for it. Anyway. The one (we got names-----a Nosedive) is still in the lower grades but the other, Wildwing, is in secondary school now. It’s rumored they used to pal around with the leader Canard himself, and with Mommy and Daddy being two secret-agent Resistance member types, we have all the more reason to suspect that they could make trouble.

So says Tamaulec, anyway.

Personally, I heard that the whole reason these damn two kept their Resistance activity such a secret was to keep their kids out of it. Far be it from me to judge, but Tamaulec seems to be getting himself in a righteous bloodlust about all this. He’s all ready to take the kids out. But I’m kind of hoping to talk you out of that, Sir, just because it seems, hell, idiotic to spill more blood onto your hands over kids. ‘Maul would throw a fit if he knew I was writing against him like this, but hey, I learned a long time ago not to care, so here I am.

Look, I probably shouldn’t be discussing so much in writing. Meet me at midnight tonight at the Low ‘Haunt----you know where the hell I’m talking about, right?  We have a lot of catching up to do and then I think that we need to make some new plans. Figure out where to go from here. It’s so good to have you back, Sir!

Yeah, getting all damn mushy on you. Whatever.

Yours,

~~Jezebele Queen 

By the time I reached the signature, I was no longer paying any attention to the words. I couldn’t breathe. I could only stare at the letter, trying to think.

He killed my parents and he was going to come after me if that woman hadn’t stopped him . . . me and Nosedive . . . killed my parents . . . killed my . . .

No. There had to be an answer.

There had to be.

There wasn’t one and I knew it. Too much evidence.

Too much evidence this time, Duke. No benefit of a doubt. Because there is no doubt.

Make peace with your past, eh?  Oh, you’ve made you’re peace, Duke. You’re still on their side. The other side. You’re more than a thief even, you’re a murderer----

A strangled cry ripped through my throat and I threw the dagger away from me, pure rage tearing me apart. I ripped the letters straight through and fell down to my hands and knees, breathing against the anger trembling through me.

I stayed like that for a few more long moments, then abruptly pulled myself to my feet. Stopping only to pick up the swaddled knife and tuck it in a pocket beneath my chest plate, I exited the room, the door sweeping shut behind me.

The elevator took me past our Headquarters and up through the rink of the Pond itself. I walked outside, squinting against the mid-afternoon sunlight, and looked around a bit, thinking.

Then I suddenly whirled around and headed away from our headquarters. I didn’t stop until I reached an old abandoned factory, hanging on the outskirts of town.

I made my way up its levels and emerged on the roof, to sit on the edges and stare out at the sky, not really thinking anything except, It’ll take them a while to find me here.

Which was exactly what I wanted. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I wasn’t really sure of how time passed. I wasn’t paying any attention to such irrelevant things as Time. The only important thing right now was that Duke L’Orange, a trusted member of the team of which I was leader, was a murderer. Of my parents.

But even that thought was not with me. Not really. It was floating about in my subconscious, but that was all. I felt too numb to be reflective about much. About anything, in fact. It was beyond numbness, beyond hollowness----just a simple, almost satisfying emptiness, an absence of peace or pain.

It lasted all afternoon and into the evening. I simply sat on the edge of the roof, looking down at the buildings and the few people that occasionally walked by. Several cars came down the road as well but this was an older part of town----not many places to drive to. There was nothing to see but building and sky; dark rectangular blocks of bricks contrasting against the brilliant bright blue and gold of the sky and light.

I looked at the sun, or as close as I could without the burning in my eyes, and simply stared at the golden light. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, if I could just . . . soar into that. Finally fly. Away from all of this . . . away back home . . .

The sun was setting in a brilliant flood of crimson gold when he finally came. Somehow, I had known that they wouldn’t find me until evening, and that it would be him that actually arrived. No question in my mind.

I had thought that I would fly into a pure, screaming rage to see him. Without reason, without real feeling or empathy, without thought----just an attack on all and nothing.

But nothing happened. At least not right away.

A former cat burglar will not be heard when he doesn’t want to be heard. But I had seen the Aerowing high against the sky several minutes ago, before disappearing in a downward slope to some apparently not-too-distant landing site. And now, with nothing but the wind and silence whistling through the air, I could hear him. Coming. Without any idea of what he was about to face. I wasn’t too sure myself.

I half expected him to scale up the side of the factory, but he didn’t. He simply followed my path to the roof----in through the half-rotted door at the floor of the building and up the stairs to emerge out of the shed-like covering over the steps and onto the top of the building.

I didn’t even turn to acknowledge his presence. He had come knowing that something was wrong----but he didn’t know what. And my anger, while hidden deep inside, was still too fierce for me to be able to figure out how to tell him. What did I say to the murderer of my parents?  What could I say?

He stood behind me for several moments, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he walked closer and carefully sat down next to me. He was still wearing his regular attire, as was I, but to see him in that slick overcoat made me think all the more of what had happened to me that day----what I had found out about him.

It was a wide cement edge we sat on; the top of it was something like six feet wide. He simply sat there Indian-style, watching the sunset with me, and somewhere deep in my heart, beneath even the fury, was the most horrible feeling of regret I have ever felt. This was the last moment of goodness and peace I would ever share with this figure beside me, who had come to be a close and trusted friend----an ally, a mentor, a teammate. In the next few sentences we spoke to each other, all that love and trust was going to disintegrate into ashes. I felt a single tear, the first I had cried since that first hidden night of my parents’ disappearance, trickle down my face. This was worse than death. This was loosing someone in life.

And there was nothing I could do about it. Or, for that matter, that he could do about it. And beneath that stunned, disbelieving anger, I could mourn for that.

He could not have noticed the tear----it was on the left side of my face, blocked from his view as he was sitting to my right. But he knew me well enough to know that there was a fleeting moment of softening to my mood, and he used it as an opening.

“We were worried about ya,” he said at last, keeping his voice soft.

I didn’t know what to say, so I simply drew my knees up so that I could rest my arms on top of them, and continued to stare into the dying sun.

“Well,” he added with a wry chuckle after a few moment’s pause, “Tanya and Nosedive were worried about’cha. Mallory kept sayin’ that you could take care a’ yourself and Grin kept goin’ on and on ‘bout, and I quote, ‘The necessity of the spiritual journey to find inner peace’ and all t’at. Pretty interestin’----two frantic teammates, one all philosophical, and the last disgusted with all of ‘em. Actually . . .” and he turned his head to look at me hard, “T’at’s three frantic teammates.”

I still could think of nothing to say, but I looked down at the cement of the slab as if I could express all my thoughts----or lack of them----in that gesture.

“It’s not like you ta run off wit’out tellin’ anyone,” said Duke gently. “Had even me worried.”

I started to say something but changed my mind and looked back up at the sun. It was half-set by now and the sky was beginning to darken further. One thing I could say for Earth, the sunsets were downright beautiful . . .

“All right, Wildwing, what’s this all about?” Duke’s voice had a harsh note to it.

I didn’t look at him still, though I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He was still watching me intently, eyebrows lowered in something akin to concentration, the single spot of red on his eyepatch gleaming like a piece of star as the bleeding sunlight caught the exact angle necessary. He was waiting.

I looked down again, running my fingers through the dust, and lifted my hand up to rub the gritty ash between my fingers. “Did you kill our parents?”

I hadn’t meant to say that. Great Ducks, had I said it out loud?  Maybe I hadn’t. I didn’t mean to.

Finally forcing myself to turn, I looked over at Duke. I don’t think I could have shocked him any more if I reached out and slapped him. He was completely blown away. His beak was agape, his good eye wide. “What?”

You killed my mom and dad, Duke, didn’t you. I wanted to say it like that. That’s not what came out. “Did you kill our parents?”

Just like that, Duke’s entire face changed from an expression of total shock to incredible weariness. I could already feel the nausea in my stomach start to flop up. “No, ‘Wing, I heard ya the first time. I’m sorry, it’s just . . . I never thought I’d here ya ask me like t’at . . .”

“Did you kill our parents?” Couldn’t I say anything else?  I couldn’t even get the pronoun from our to my. Why was I including Nosedive at this moment?  Oh, of course they were his parents too; but I didn’t know why I was saying it like that. I seemed to have lost all control of my voice.

Duke looked at me hard, and I had never, ever seen such sadness on his face. Never. Not when he had been hurt, not when Dragaunus had captured us, not any of the times there had been a possibility that one of us had been killed. Not sad like this. This was the pain of unspoken grief and secreted anguishes.

There was a long pause, during which I swallowed hard, trying to keep my stomach down, as I looked him directly in the eye. Finally, he spoke. “Yeah, Wildwing,” he said at last, so softly I almost couldn’t hear him. “I killed your parents.”

I just looked at Duke, not really breathing, not really paying any attention. I tried to say something, anything, but the tight lid over my anger had swelled up and was bulging at the seams, trying to burst apart, and it had swollen up from my chest into my throat and shut the passage, leaving me mute. I felt like I was drowning.

Duke continued to look at me, his good eye streaming such a fierce intensity of absolute, total pain and grief that I found myself wondering how I could be mad at him. But the anger was still contained, and I felt more shock than anything anyway.

“Y-you . . . my par----my parents, you killed my parents . . .” My throat felt thick and coherent thoughts were out of the question.

“Yeah, Wildwing, I did,” he said, in that same soft voice.

I wheeled away from him, trembling slightly, my hands gripping the front edges of the slab so tightly I could feel the gritty granite cutting into my palms. I gulped frantically at the air, trying to get my breath.

Duke laid a careful hand on my shoulder. “ ‘Wing, let me explain. I’m sure ya have a lot a’ questions----”

Just like that, the lid exploded. Duke had cat-like reflexes, but my twin surges of adrenaline and righteous fury were no match for anything as puny as reflexes. In a flash, I had shot up off the slab, grabbed Duke by the lapels of his overcoat, and whirled him around towards the overhang shed that led to the steps below.

There was shock in his face, and something almost like fear. I had rarely seen Duke afraid before----but I was seeing it now; the suddenness of my movement had thrown him. “ ‘Wing, let me explain, I know you’re confused----”

I pulled back and slammed the older duck into the bricks of the shed behind him, lifting him half off his feet in the motion. Duke pulled his head forward to protect it but I heard his back strike into the solid stone. His hands clenched at his sides but he said nothing; he merely looked at me to see what I was going to do.

Shaking in fury and grief, my eyes burning, I screamed a year of pain and loss into him. “Confused?  You think that I might be confused, Duke?  What would ever give you an idea like that?!  I trusted you, stuck up for you when the rest of the team was doubting you, saved your life when you needed me----and now I find out that this ‘saintly conversion’ has all been an act?  An act, Duke!  An act that *I* fell for!”

The fear was gone from his face, but the painful sadness was not. “No, it’s not like t’at----”

“What’s it like then, huh?” I was still screaming, my rage pouring through me. He continued to look unafraid and so dejected that my fury was intensified, doubled and re-doubled again. How dare he stand up to me, as though he has any right to dignity anymore?  There are many evils that can be forgiven, but not Betrayal, and he had betrayed me. “What’s it like to lose your parents?  You tell me, L’Orange, you seem to have all the answers right now!” I was shaking and fuming and gripping the sides of his overcoat even harder, squeezing the cloth tighter as my rage intensified. How much angrier could I get?

“Wildwing, please, just let me explain, I can----”

I grasped the material even tighter and pulled him forward again, accenting each painful rage-filled word by ramming him over and over into the brick wall. “You . . . aren’t . . . going . . . to . . . be . . . explaining . . . ANYTHING . . . anymore . . . you TRAITOR!”

I could hear his back crushing into the wall with every blow, but except for clasping my wrists in a vice-like grip, Duke did nothing. On the last word, I hurled him into the wall so hard I found myself wondering for one fleeing moment if perhaps I could have broken his back. As it was, he was hanging almost limply in my grasp, his feet completely off the ground. I managed to force myself to lower him so that he was at least standing under his own power again----but that was more from necessity as I could not keep his weight up any longer, even with this strength from fury. He continued to grasp my wrists, harder than I would have thought he could have after being slammed into the stone. And while he was once again on his feet, he was standing weakly, and I was still supporting most of his weight. But I didn’t really notice any of that. I could hardly speak.

“Wildwing . . .” His voice was breaking. “I am so, so sorry . . .”

I laughed then, but it was a short, bitter, angry laugh, without mirth or amusement; merely an acknowledgement of irony. “You’re sorry?” I screeched, my voice hardening and growing louder as I bent closer to him, my hands sliding up the material so that I was clutching the green swathe around his shoulders, and around his throat. “Oh, you’re sorry, well, that just makes everything okay then!  Forget me, forget Nosedive, forget my parents!  Duke L’Orange is sorry for his betrayal, fine, forget everything!”

Duke was looking at me, his good eye bright with something suspiciously like . . . tears.

This was too much. He had killed them. It was a little late for mourning; a little late for regret.

"Listen ta me . . . If I could change it now, if I could make it any other way . . . I’d be glad ta take your parents’ place if I could give ‘em back to ya . . . I can’t, Wildwing, and I’m so sorry for t’at----”

“NO!” It was a scream of pure fury, and it stopped Duke mid-sentence. “No, No, NO!  Everything I’ve fought for, everything the team has fought for, it’s all for nothing, all a waste . . .” My hands on his coat were tightening. “All a lie, Duke; all a viscous, viscous lie to cover your sorry tail feathers and keep us from handing a murderer over to authorities.” He seemed to flinch at the way I spat murderer at him . . . or was it merely from the way my hands were tightening on his lapel as I spoke the word?  “Well, no more, Duke, no more. I know the truth now!  No more lies!  No more false loyalties!  No more secrets!  Your secret is out in the open now, L’Orange . . . And I swear, you are going to pay for it!”

I stopped speaking and clutched at the coat material, wrapping it over and over again around my fists, breathing hard and shaking in fury, fury, fury. Duke continued to remain silent, but he was beginning to twist slightly in my grasp, a soft gasp escaping his lips.

I realized that I wasn’t finished. “I don’t know how you kept the secret so long, Duke . . . but it’s out. Duke, it’s OUT and you aren’t going to be able to HIDE ANY MORE!” I was screaming, squeezing, crushing, my wrath a tangible fire inside me, swelling into my whole body and pouring out like white heat, demanding satisfaction in revenge. “No more *HIDING*, L’Orange!  NO MORE HIDING!”

Only then did I suddenly become aware of Duke’s fingers digging into my hands; that he was groaning in short, slight gasps. I looked almost impassively at him and saw that I had once again hiked him off his feet and into the wall by the collar, and I’d grabbed up so much of his lapel in such a tight wind that it had twisted around his throat and was choking him.

I hated him at that moment, hated him with an almost unjust vengeance, but I would not become a monster, a murderer----I would not become what he was. I tightened my grip for one moment, causing him to exhale sharply in a weak moan and grasp my hands tighter, his fingers digging into my wrists. But he wasn’t trying to get me to let him go. He was clenching my wrists so tightly that the circulation was being achingly cut off, but he wasn’t trying to pull my hands away from his throat. No, he wasn’t trying to get away from me. There was still no fear in that gaze----only grieving acceptance. To him, I was probably just carrying out my rightful vengeance.

With a cry, I loosened my grip from around Duke’s throat, shattered his body once more into the brick, and then, before he had time to recover from any of the attack,  I simply dropped him. The older duck collapsed to the ground, his hands pulling away the material wrapped around his throat as he choked and gasped, his eye squeezed shut in pain.

I looked at him for one more moment, then turned on my heel and was gone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I beat him back to the Pond, of course. Even though he and, as I would later find out, Mallory had taken the Aerowing out to search for me (the trackers could only be used to locate one of us if we were in our battle gear). Duke had wanted to talk to me alone, and she had respected that----not that either of them had known at the time what was going on. So she had waited for him in the Aerowing several blocks away while he went to talk to me.

But then Duke wasn’t even able to stand, let alone walk, for so long that Mallory finally began to worry and went out to look for him. And argued with him about helping him back. Let me help you up, let me help you back to the Aerowing; Nah, I’m fine, I’m fine, I can do this, it’s just a few bumps, lay off, would ya?  And they made their way, slowly, back to the Aerowing, and then the Pond. And as reluctant as he’d be to admit it, Mallory did have to help him walk.

Not that I knew any of this when I got back. A panicked Tanya, distraught Nosedive, and wise-eyed Grin were waiting for me.

Nosedive wasn’t always one for physical affection, but he tackled me in a full-blown hug the minute I stuck one foot through the door.

I put up with this for a moment, even hugging him back, but I finally had to stop him.

“ ‘Dive!  ‘Dive, I can’t breathe, I think you’re crushing my ribs . . .” I coughed slightly, trying to breathe in farther.

Nosedive released me, then looked up at me, eyes bright again. But his posture was one of an exasperated parent scolding a wayward child. “Where have you been!?” he demanded, every inch of him puffed up with indignation. “We’ve been worried sick!”

Tanya came forward then and put her hand on my shoulder, as much to comfort me as to reassure herself that I was, indeed, alright. “We, ah, we couldn’t figure out where you’d gone without, you know, telling any of us, is what he’s trying to say, Wildwing.”

“Nooo, I’m trying to SAY that it was VERY inconsiderate of my Big Bro here to run off into oblivion and not at least leave a NOTE, you know what I’m saying?” Nosedive folded his arms sternly and tapped his foot impatiently, glaring at me. But beneath the act I could see the sincere panic that he had been feeling----on my account. This was the anniversary of . . . of that day, and it wouldn’t have taken much to upset him anyway. Let alone his remaining family member disappearing. I felt horrible; on top of the feelings I already had tearing through my heart.

“Yeah, ‘Dive, I know what you’re saying,” I said tiredly, trying to smile in apology. “I’ll try not to do that again.”

“See that you don’t,” Nosedive shot sternly. Tanya coughed suddenly as if to remind us that she was still in the room. I turned to look at her and she looked at the floor, rather quickly.

“So, ah, Wildwing, where were you all this time?” she finally asked, almost from lack of anything else to say.

“Oh . . .” I said vaguely; it was my turn to look at the floor. “I just had a lot on my mind. I needed some time to myself, to think, I guess.”

“Did it help?” Grin finally spoke for the first time, half-startling me.

“Yeah,” I sighed. I noticed Grin was looking at me rather doubtfully. “Well, sort of,” in interest of keeping to the truth.

Tanya wasn’t just smart with machines and electronics. She was very aware of how I had danced out of her last question, I could see that in her eyes, but she was choosing not to pursue it right now. For which I was grateful.

“So, where’s Mal and the Duke-meister?” Nosedive asked, putting his hand on my shoulder again.

I tried not to tighten up at the mention of . . . of him. “I don’t know,” I managed. “I didn’t see them.”

“Oh . . .” Nosedive shrugged. “They must still be out looking for ya----”

Granted, Duke was up on the roof for quite some time, but I had been on the  opposite side of town and it had taken me a while to walk all the way back. Time that Mallory and Duke could make up by traveling in the Aerowing. Before Nosedive could finish his sentence, the two walked in.

Actually, Mallory walked in. Slowly. And she had both arms wrapped around Duke, who had looped his own arm over her shoulders for support and was half-limping, half-dragging beside her.

I knew how much Duke valued (vain of him) his dignity. For him to allow someone to be helping him like that----I had to have hurt him badly. I didn’t feel remorse, exactly, but I found myself turning away slightly and adverting my eyes to the floor from Duke’s battered form.

No one was paying any attention to my reactions, of course. “Duke!” cried Nosedive and Tanya at the same time, rushing forward.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, but then he suddenly hissed and slumped forward. Mallory hadn’t been expecting this, and she lost her support on him, dropping him towards the floor. Tanya dove out, barely catching him in time to keep his head from striking the tiles.

“Duke,” shot Mallory harshly, her voice shaking ever so slightly. She knelt on the floor beside him, putting a hand to his shoulder and shaking him. “Duke!”

Tanya looked up from where she was feeling the side of his throat. “It’s all right. He’s got a pulse and he’s breathing. B-but we need to get him to the infirmary right away!”

“What happened?” demanded Nosedive as he came forward to help Tanya.

“He wouldn’t tell me,” admitted Mallory, following him and Tanya as they slowly carried an unconscious Duke towards the infirmary. “He left me with the Aerowing to search on his own. He must have thought he’d seen Wildwing or something as we were passing by the edge of town. I finally went out looking for him when he took so long and found him lying in a heap on the top of an old abandoned factory roof. He couldn’t even stand up. He just said something about ‘a bad fall’ and refused to say another word about it. But something must have happened to him up there.”

“Dragaunus?” Grin asked, eyes narrowed.

Mallory shook her head. “Not his style. He wouldn’t half-kill someone and leave them there to recover. Besides, I don’t think he’s really hurt that badly. But how could he have . . .” the rest of her sentence was lost to me as she and Grin followed out through the door.

I watched them go, then headed for my bunk. I needed to sleep.

But try as I might, I could not forget Duke.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It felt like I had been asleep for hours, but a cursory glance at the clock beside my bunk told me I had only been out for twenty minutes. Blast. I wanted to get this day over with. And it was only ten o’clock . . .

A sharp knocking came at the door. So that was what had woken me.

I sat up, putting a hand to my head at the pounding headache in my temples. Great. What else could go wrong?  “Come in.”

The door slid open and Tanya stepped in, looking concerned. “Wildwing?”

“Yeah,” I grunted, massaging my temples gingerly with one hand. Another good reason not to be wearing battle gear. Those gloves made it hard to do anything gingerly.

“I----” She hesitated. “I, ah, need to talk to you.”

“Sure, Tanya,” I said, sounding much more accepting and open than how I was actually feeling. “What is it?”

She pulled over a chair from across the room to sit next to the bunk beside me. “I . . . are you sure you didn’t see Duke when you were out?” she abruptly blurted.

“I----I’m sure,” I said after a moment. “Why?”

She looked at me keenly. “I, ah, didn’t think that Dragaunus had anything to do with, with whatever happened to Duke tonight. And I certainly don’t think that he fell. He, you know, he moves so gracefully most of the time----it’s well, just, not likely that he’d really trip hard enough to get that hurt.”

“ ‘That’ hurt?  How bad is he?” I spoke roughly, but I couldn’t help it.

“He’ll be fine,” she answered. “He’s got some really bad bruises all along his back, and some across the backs of his arms and legs, and----and some other stuff,” and Tanya was studying her hands as if she had never really noticed them before, running one finger through the feathers at the back on her other hand. “But nothing life-threatening. He’s still unconscious. Or asleep---he probably won’t wake up until tomorrow. I asked Nosedive to, you know, keep an eye on him until I get back----”

“That’s great, Tanya,” I said, standing up next to her and waiting for her to do the same. “Glad to hear it. Tell Duke I hope he feels bet----never mind. I’ll, ah, I’ll tell him myself later.”

“Wildwing.” Tanya put a hand to my wrist and pulled me back down. “I got everyone to leave the infirmary before I put Duke through the scanner.”

“Why?”

“Oh, call it a hunch,” she murmured. “It’s not just his back. I thought . . . he has abrasions and some really raw sores around his throat.”

I looked at the floor, not speaking.

“He couldn’t have gotten that falling,” she said, looking at me hard. “Is there something you’re maybe not telling us?”

“No. I told you I didn’t see him. It’s Duke that’s not telling you something.” I hadn’t spoken that gruffly in a long time. It didn’t give Tanya much room to say anything.

“Oh,” she managed finally. “All right then, Wildwing. If that’s the way you want it.” She started to get up to go.

“Wait.” She did, and turned to look at me, eyes glittering behind her glasses. “Tanya. You think I had something to do with it, don’t you?”

A kind of pained smile fell across her beak. “Well, ah . . . You storm out of here without telling anyone, come back without seeing any sign of the ducks who have spent the day combing the city for you, don’t react in any way to Duke coming back in several pieces, and every time you say his name I’m half-afraid you’re going to go ballistic on me. Now, I’m not going to push at this,” and she raised a hand to my half-spoken response, “But yeah, I’d say you maybe had something to do with it.”

“You’re right,” I answered. “I did.”

“Is it, ah, something you want to talk about?”

“No,” I said, turning away from the look in her eyes. “It’s not. No reason to burden any more teammates with this.”

Tanya didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, she gave my shoulder a careful squeeze and stood up. “I won’t say anything to the others about the throat injuries.”

I nodded rather brusquely.

“But sooner or later, he’s going to wake up,” and her voice was so harsh I turned to look at her sharply. She stared into my eyes, the force of her gaze so strong I could scarcely stand to meet it. “And then, whether any one of us wants it or not, you’re going to have to deal with it. So is Duke, and so are the rest of us. Whatever it is. That’s how secrets work. I know. And I’m sorry you have one to go through, Wildwing. I don’t know what Duke’s done that has you so upset, but please, try to keep this in mind----whatever it is, it’s hurting him, too. And has been, for a long time.”

Before I could say anything else, she was gone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Duke was up and about when I got up the next morning. Or rather, he was awake. As much as he *wanted* to be up and about, Tanya would hear none of it.

“You’ve been through a bad beating, Duke,” she’d say whenever he started complaining again, pointedly avoiding any mention of what kind of beating it may have been. Duke couldn’t say much to that, especially without giving away anything else, and ended up grudgingly spending the Sunday resting on his bunk in his room.

But why didn’t he say anything?  Wasn’t he angry?  Drat it all, I had half-killed him (okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but I really had to admit that I had banged him up something good). Didn’t he feel the need to mention this to the rest of the team?

I only had the thought flash through my mind a few times before it came to me. Of course not. He was a murderer!  What was he going to say, Oh, Wildwing finally broke through his dense exterior long enough ta realize t’at I’m a back-stabbin’ murderer and killed his parents, and now’s he a little upset ?  Yeah, right, that would work. He couldn’t say anything without compromising his secret. So he would kept silent about it.

Grin wasn’t the type to pry and Tanya had her own mysterious reasons, but Nosedive and Mallory weren’t nearly as understanding. I overheard the three of them, sometime that afternoon, talking in his bunk.

“Look,” Mallory was saying as I stopped by the open door to listen, staying behind the edge to keep from being seen. “I just want to know what happened to you up there. You got pretty roughed up, Duke.”

I sneaked forward and peered carefully into the room. Duke was reclining in a half-sitting position on his bunk, with Nosedive sitting on the edge of the bed next to him and Mallory in a chair to the side.

“I told ya, Mallory, it was nothin’.” Duke sounded angry, and weary, as if he had  repeated this often with the same results each time. “I . . . I just thought I saw Wildwing up there. I must’a been wrong. And on my way across the roof, I slipped on somethin’ and fell against the edge a’ t’at building. That’s all.”

“Come on, Buddy-Boy,” said Nosedive. “The former jewel thief trips over his own feet?  You’re gonna have to come up with a better excuse that that!”

“Could we drop this?” said Duke tiredly, but he was half snarling. He turned his head towards the door, and I quietly sucked in a breath, seeing the deep red lacerations running through the gray feathers of his throat. “I’m tired a’ talkin’ about it.”

“But Duke----” Nosedive sounded almost hurt.

“We’re your teammates, Duke.” Mallory’s voice was harsh. Of course. “If someone did something to you, we need to know about it. What, was it Falcone?  Did he break out or something?”

“No. He didn’t. It wasn’t him. I tole’cha, I slipped.” Duke’s voice was hard.

“Right,” scoffed Mallory. She leaned over and gently ran one finger along the side of a deep score going down the left side of his throat. Duke winced and knocked her hand away. “You want to explain how you got all of those from tripping?”

 “Mallory. Enough already.”

“Listen, Duke----”

“ENOUGH.”

Mallory and Nosedive looked stunned, but Duke had already rolled over on his side, turning his back to them.

I walked away, lightly, before the other two had even started for the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A week passed, with little else going on. Dragaunus had been quiet lately and we only had one game, so I was able to keep away from Duke most of the time. If the rest of the team noticed that we were avoiding each other, they said nothing about it.

Avoiding each other?  Well, I was avoiding him, at least. I have no idea if he was avoiding me. I didn’t see enough of him to figure it out. In the first day or so, I didn’t see much of anyone; I was trying to avoid others at all costs.

But I couldn’t keep doing that. No one on our team was stupid----they knew something was up. Well, Tanya, certainly, knew something was wrong; but Mallory and Grin knew it, too. Nosedive didn’t seem to be sure of what was going on, but he knew me too well to think that everything was okay. Or even try to pretend it was.

So by Tuesday I had forced myself to start interacting with everyone again and stop hiding in my room all of the time. I still went for long walks, however (always careful to let Nosedive know that I was leaving); and I saw almost nothing of Duke.

Which really was a problem. Friday afternoon arrived slowly----with nothing to distract me, time had, indeed, seemed to have slowed down. And today was especially unexciting. Tanya had announced three days ago her intentions to go to an electronics fair that was being hosted by ‘Lectric Land all the way in Chicago. It was always best if we travelled together and Grin volunteered to go with her. So they had left early yesterday morning in the Aerowing and were planning to arrive back here late tomorrow night.

This had left me and Duke alone with poor Mallory and Nosedive. It had been an uneasy couple of days, and I looked forward to seeing the end of them. Two more teammates meant two less reasons for Duke and I to come in any contact with each other.

But this couldn’t last forever. Not long enough, at any rate. As I walked through the Anaheim park a few hours before sunset, I found myself wondering how long I thought I could keep this up.

“I mean, really,” I murmured to myself as I walked----lucky for me, there weren’t many other people in the park to hear me talking to myself. “I can’t keep this up forever. I’m the captain of the team!  What am I supposed to do with a traitor?”

A traitor. I’d finally said the word out loud for the first time in a week.

“Traitor.” I half-breathed the word. I couldn’t figure it out. Duke had betrayed me, betrayed Nosedive, betrayed the whole team in his silence about what he really was. A murderer, worse than a thief, who had never really gone straight as he had pretended to. If he had truly redeemed himself, he wouldn’t have kept a secret like this for so long. He was a murderer, and he needed to be punished as such. He deserved to be treated as such.

“Then why am I keeping my beak shut?” I hissed as I continued down the path.

I didn’t know why. Or . . .

“Because,” I said shakily, drawing up to a halt as I tried to deal with the knowledge, “I don’t want Nosedive to have to bear this, too. Not this. Not the knowledge that one of his trusted friends is a killer. Not the fact that his parents didn’t disappear for awhile----they were murdered in cold blood by a traitor.”

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell anyone. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to bear this secret. It was the most horrible thing I had ever faced in my life, harder in some ways than even the death of my parents. Because this was their death, and yet, at the same time, it was the loss of trust, innocence, and idealism all at once.

And it was a burden I had to carry alone. That’s why it was so hard. Because I had to do it alone. I had shared everything with Nosedive for a long, long time----at least, everything important. But for his sake, I would not give him this to carry; and it left me alone. With no one. But I was not going to tell him. I wanted to spare him this. No matter how much it hurt me to hold it inside.

It hurt more than I had thought it would, though. I hated secrets and I hated betrayal and I fervently wished that I never had to deal with either of them again. I twisted suddenly as I felt the silken-wrapped dagger, still hidden in a pocket beneath my chestplate, shift position slightly as I walked. I had been unable to go anywhere without the dagger with me, though I wasn’t sure why.

The dagger that killed my parents . . .

I hadn’t even thought much about the fact that this meant my parents were really dead. That I wasn’t going to see them if we ever made it back to Puckworld. They were gone.

My mother and father were dead.

The shock of what Duke had done finally broke away enough for the truth of them to sink through. I had reached the edge of the park, with no one in sight, and now I stopped walking by the side of the small pond and fell to my knees, the shock of their death pouring through me as the true implications finally sank through.

Dead. Dead. Mom and Dad were dead----

My stomach heaved. I leaned forward and retched, my body turning inside out as all was rejected. My mother and father, dead at the hands of one of my dearest friends----I vomited hard as I tried to come to grips with the fact, but I had to reject it, for no part of me could accept.

After a long moment I was finally able to straighten up shakily, wiping my mouth with the back of my wrist. I took a shuttering breath and leaned back, putting my hands to my face, and wept. Crying out in pure agony at the parents that had died-----and the friend that was lost.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I drew myself up wearily at our Headquarters’ entrance. Trying to find the motivation to go in.

I didn’t want to go in, I was never going to want to go in, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Might as well go in.

Part Two