It wasn’t nerves. Not technically speaking. He didn’t get nervous, it
simply wasn’t in his personality. And it absolutely was not second
thoughts. He knew that with the same certainty with which he could
anticipate and counter an opponent’s every move. And more, he knew it in
his heart, his soul, with every fiber, both natural and augmented, of his
being.
Midnighter pulled on the shocking white leather mask. Angela, The Engineer,
had jokingly asked if he planned to wear white for the wedding. He had
responded with silence, and only the mildest twitch of one corner of his
upper lip. Apollo had snickered unrestrainedly at the suggestion, and Angie
had just regarded them both with one of those infinitely pleased with
herself expressions she sometimes got. The next week a huge gift box was
waiting in their shared quarters on the carrier, with Midnighter’s name on
the package. Within was an exact replica of his uniform, down to the last
buckle, the most detailed stitching, but in glossy, gleaming white! Little
Jenny, who was playing nearby, had clapped gleefully as he pulled the outfit
from its box, and Apollo had merely held his hands palms upwards and
shrugged. Then he smiled one of those utterly charming, disarming grins of
his, and Midnighter knew what he was getting married in. Later he even
thanked The Engineer for her very thoughtful gift, without a trace of
sarcasm.
He loved Apollo. There was simply no one else alive that he cared for like
that, no one made him feel that way. And that love didn’t make him weak, it
made him stronger, gave him something to fight for, a reason to survive any
battle. Jenny was like that too, in a way. He fought to protect her, and
the woman she would grow into in the future. Apollo was his equal, his
partner, his lover. Jenny was their daughter. The legalities meant nothing
to him, but the formality of the vows, he took very seriously. Vows meant
something. The public pronouncement of same he wasn’t certain of, but he
knew that with all the pomp and showiness, an example was being made.
And was an example Ever being made. According to Shen, same sex couples
everywhere were applying for marriage licenses, regardless of the legality
in their individual geographies. Marriage licenses, NOT “domestic
partnerships.” Midnighter wasn’t one for flag waving or parades, but he
had to smile over that. Speaking of Parades, Apollo mentioned that they had
been asked to co-MC the next year’s Pride Parade. If Ian McKellen could do
it…There was a time Hawksmoor would have insisted that they participate.
Great PR, he would have argued. Of course, since the whole debacle with
Seth and the G-7 nations, Jack hadn’t seemed to give a rat’s ass about
public relations.
Jack had been grim since the true Authority’s return. Midnighter, during
his late night prowls around the Carrier, had often seen him staring out
into the Bleed, his expression unfixed and faraway, his eyes haunted the way
Midnighter and Apollo’s had been right after their first team had died. The
way Jenny Sparks’ had been when they first met. In fact, Angela had
expressed her concern to them one night while planning the reception, after
her third glass of Merlot. Jack had been spending more time at Sparks’
grave, like he was hoping to find an answer to some pervading question
there.
“Do they really want a finer world?” Angie said she had heard Jack ask
at the memorial.
Oddly, of them all, the Doctor seemed least affected by the horrors they had
all endured. He was in fact, calmer, more confident, and apparently
completely disinterested in the chemical substances that had once ruled him.
And Jeroen had saved his life, Midnighter acknowledged, with a combination
of shamanism and technology. Perhaps in this one instance, Midnighter would
have to reevaluate his opinion.
He hadn’t seen Apollo since last night. After the uncomfortably named
“Bachelors' party” at Clark’s Bar, they had been dragged by their teammates
to opposite sides of the Carrier. A silly superstition, both Apollo and he
had protested, but the others were insistent. They needed the distraction,
the fun, the familiarity of tradition that the wedding ceremony offered.
And Midnighter was willing to give them that. But, he admitted, as he gave
his appearance a final check, he would be happier when Apollo was in his
arms again. He wanted the certainty that they would not be separated again.
He pulled the small velvet box from a pocket in his coat, looked at the
gleaming platinum and diamond ring it held, and knew they never would be.
~Fin~
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