“Fucker.”
“Indeed.”
Blythe van Renssaeler
Memorial Clinic Jokertown
Manhattan, New York
As Finn came trotting into the waiting room, the rubber booties that covered his hooves squeaked with every step. “You have a fine healthy baby boy, seven pounds three ounces.”
Noel handed the joker doctor a cigar. He couldn’t quite trust himself to speak just yet.
“More the traditional type, are you? No helping her breathe and count contractions. No video of the blessed event.”
“God no,” said Noel.
Finn laughed at his horrified tone. “Can’t say I blame you. Usually the wife is cussing out the husband, and I have had more than a few of them faint. Men just don’t handle blood as well as women.”
Never was a problem for me. But pray God I’m done with all that now and forever.
“What are you naming him?” Finn asked
“Jasper, after my father. May I see…” Noel’s voice trailed away.
“Niobe’s back in her room and your son is with her. Come on.” Finn led him out of the waiting room and down the hall.
Niobe was in a white lace nightgown she’d brought from home, and a nurse with antennae for eyebrows and faceted eyes like a bumblebee was brushing Niobe’s hair over her shoulders. Noel could see where the hair at her temples was still sweat-dampened. A bundle in a soft blue blanket was in her arms.
She raised her eyes to his, and he’d never seen such an expression of sheer joy, triumph, and love before. “Say hello to your son,” she said.
He crossed the room in three long strides and kissed her. Then he looked down at the wrinkled, red face of his child. At least the urchin had a lush head of chestnut-colored hair and eyes that were almost aquamarine, because otherwise he was astoundingly ugly.
Niobe pushed the bundle into his arms. For an instant it felt awkward, and then the little warm body found its position in the crook of his arm. The tiny budlike mouth worked in a sucking movement, and a surprisingly adult sigh emerged from between his lips. There was a smell from the baby that was indescribable, but it evoked memories of freshly baked bread, and baking cookies, and wood smoke on a cold evening. It was everything good and safe and loving.
Noel’s arms tightened around the baby, and a feeling of such protective love washed through his body like an electric current. He knew he would lay down his life for this child.
He looked at Niobe who smiled at him, but there was a serious look in her green eyes.
“I love you,” Noel said.
She didn’t give the usual response. Instead she asked, “Are you home now?”
“Yes.” And he added, “Now, and forever.”
“Good.”
United Nations
Manhattan, New York
Lohengrin’s office never changed. The phones were always ringing. The little chiming noise that meant new e-mail had come through was still on its way to nervous collapse. Klaus himself was a little more worn, a little more tired. But he also had the small cut-in laugh lines that came from winning a few. So that was all right.
Lohengrin leaned back in his chair. His smile was softer than Bugsy had expected. His voice was gentle. “You look good, my friend.”
“You make a boy blush,” Bugsy said. “You’re looking pretty spiffy yourself. The eye patch works for you. Very Dread Pirate Odin.”
Klaus didn’t even look pained. That fact alone told Bugsy just how rough he seemed. He thought he’d been hiding it better. “I’m sorry. For what happened,” Lohengrin said.
“Don’t be,” Bugsy said. “We all knew the risks.”
There was a pause. It was the invitation to spill it all out. Bugsy thought about telling him what it had been like, going back to Ellen’s apartment to get his things and seeing everything still there. The accumulated artifacts of maybe a hundred ended lives. All the last chances were gone now. All the voices silenced. The dead were dead again.
He let the silence speak for itself.
Lohengrin nodded. “What are you going to do now?”
Bugsy raised his eyebrows in feigned confusion. “Well,” he said. “I was thinking lunch. And there’s an entomology conference going on at NYU. I was thinking I’d maybe go hang out at the bars and seem interesting. It’s Lyme disease mostly, but I can hope for a cute grad student who’s into wasps.”
Lohengrin did look just a little pained that time. So that was good. “You don’t always have to make a joke of it, Jonathan.”
“Oh, but I do,” Bugsy said with a grin. “Oh, yes, I do.”
“I meant, will you remain with the Committee?” Lohengrin said.
“Will I keep putting myself in a position to get killed or watch my friends suffer and die while the whole fucking prospect slowly sinks into the permanent cesspool of bureaucracy?”
“Yes,” Lohengrin said.
“I don’t know,” Bugsy said. Then a moment later, “I will if you will. Or we could strike out on our own. Roam the earth meting out justice, overthrowing bad guys according to our own personal values, making time with the cute girls.”
The phone rang. Lohengrin let it. “You make it sound tempting,” he said with a grin.
“Yeah, until you remember that was the Radical’s job description, too. Didn’t work out too well.”
“It could have been worse,” Lohengrin said.
“Words to live by.”
The Jerusha Carter Childhood
Development Institute
Jokertown, Manhattan, New York
“Any pain when I do this?” Dr. Finn asked. He pulled Wally’s arm straight ahead, then gently raised it.
“Nope. Not at all, Doc.” The dull ache throbbed through Wally’s shoulder. “Uh, maybe a little.”
Finn released Wally’s arm. “That bullet did a great deal of damage when it shattered inside your shoulder. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked that you didn’t suffer permanent loss of function in this arm.” He marked something on Wally’s chart. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose your leg, too,” he added absently.
“Which one?”
Finn peered at him over his eyeglasses. “After getting attacked by a crocodile? Both of them.” His tone was stern, but his eyes gleamed. “You can button your shirt now.”
Wally hopped down, gingerly, from the exam table. The bullet wound in his leg had become badly infected during the long trek across the Congo; Finn had said something about river parasites, too. They had it under control now, but after six months of antibiotic treatments, his leg still wasn’t back to full strength.
His other leg, the one the croc had chomped, still had teeth marks in it. Finn speculated it probably always would, though he readily admitted he knew very little about healing processes in iron.
Wally’s side still ached, too, from where they’d opened him up to fix his broken ribs. They’d removed a big chunk of iron to do that. Most of his skin had grown back, thick and heavy as ever, but he still had tender spots.
Finn jotted something on a prescription pad. He tore off the sheet and handed it to Wally. “One last set of treatments. After this you’ll be in the clear.”
“Thanks.” Wally tucked the prescription into the breast pocket of his overalls. “Let’s go check on the kids,” he said.
