ic Midnight Elegy

[Gizmo]

"Have paperwork from estate..." Trevor argued weakly, gesturing in the general direction of a manilla folder sitting on the truck's dashboard and peeking over the edge of the windshield. He wasn't sure if he'd decided to focus on resolving the outstanding documentation so that he'd have something else to keep his mind occupied or because once it was all past him things could start to make sense again but it seemed like he must have had a very good reason at the time to be feeling so stubborn about it now. That line of thought began to unravel almost as soon as he started picking at it, however, and as the knot loosened he felt physical and emotional exhaustion spilling out of the gaps and threatening to wash him away. Rubbing his face again with his free hand, he leaned into Erin's hand on his shoulder. "Nnh. Nevermind. Very good idea. Would like that, please."

[Electra]

"The paperwork will keep for a few hours, and you'll be better prepared to look at it later," Erin assured him, sliding an arm around his waist as they walked toward the house. She wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't fall over without a little extra support. This time she avoided the stairs entirely, activating the garage door by voice command before steering him inside and through to the little kitchen that was probably properly called a summer kitchen or a butler's pantry or something ridiculous. It had a fridge and a microwave, that was the important part. She sat Trevor down at the two-person breakfast table. "I'll be right back, ten seconds." With a burst of speed that let her avoid the other Hunters in the house, Erin nipped into the main kitchen, grabbed a pizza box and three or four boxes of Chinese or Thai takeout, and a half-gallon of milk that had no lumps, then dashed back. As she began piling food onto plates and microwaving it, she looked over at Trevor. "So you talked to Mark and Joe and Eve already? That's good, I'm glad they've been helping you." She choked back more sorries for her own absence, figuring they could do nothing to help. 

[Gizmo]

Trevor frowned slightly, his thought process as a whole a little slower and more labourious than it usually was, before getting up out of his seat with a soft grunt and walking over to stand behind Erin. Wrapping his uninjured arm around her waist he tucked his chin into the space between her left shoulder and neck. "No," he told her, understanding her unspoken regrets and having none of it. "Nothing you could have done here. Didn't want to talk to anyone first few days." His friends, by and large, had been able to understand that; it wasn't as if he was usually eager to talk about his feelings at the best of times. He had to admit that he'd underestimated how well Mark would be able to understand the situation and quietly handle things with the League accordingly. He owed his friend another one, even if Mark himself would have never seen it that way.

"You were saying the whole world," he reminded Erin, softly breathing in the entire presence of her, refreshing himself on aspects committed to memory. "Other worlds, too, once you were out there, I'd bet. Love that about you. ...love you so much." He began to feel heavy again, slow and sluggish like his limbs just wouldn't listen to what he was telling them to do, sprain aside. All he could manage was to lean against Erin's back and squeeze her more tightly.

[Electra]

"Love you too," she murmured. "I really missed you while I was gone. But we did do a lot of good work. I was going to leave after the big offensive wrapped up," she admitted, "but a lot of pockets of Communion were still out there, and they were kind of short on heroes. Redbird kept a log of all the stuff we did, all the planets we ended up visiting. I lost track pretty fast." She turned in his arms, wrapped her arms around his waist so that she was subtly supporting most of his weight. "I just wish... I know there's nothing I could've done. I wish there was something, I wish you didn't ever have to feel this way. But I'm glad I'm here now." She rubbed her cheek lightly against his. "How about I toss this on a tray and we have lunch in bed? I think we're both about done in for the day." 

[Gizmo]

Trevor briefly looked like he was about to protest out of pure reflex but his mouth closed as he failed to come up with a convincing argument. "...alright. Good idea." Reluctant to let Erin out of arm's reach, he managed to give her enough room to finish what she was doing with a minimum of hovering. A nagging voice in the back of his head insisted that he was appearing weak and clingy and insisted he shape up immediately but he was ultimately just too tired to care. A week of dealing with his parents on top of everything else had left him feeling burnt out and heavy on his feet and ti was a sharp relief to be with someone around whom he didn't need to keep those barriers of composure up.

[Electra]

It was the work of only a moment to dig out one of the quaint old wooden breakfast trays that someone, probably Margery, had tucked into one of the cabinets decades ago and toss all the lunch preparations onto it. Balancing it on one arm with the deft skill of a veteran waitress, Erin kept the other arm around Trevor as they headed for their bedroom. "Trevor's home," she called to his folks as they passed the parlor, "but we're getting lunch and rest now." Her tone clearly brooked no argument, and she didn't wait for a response before gently nudging Trevor down the hallway and into the bedroom. She locked the door behind them, unsure whether Ted and Janet's odd formal politeness with family would outweigh the narcissism that would disregard personal privacy. Better to be safe than sorry. Unfolding the legs of the tray, she set it down on the bedside table and sat down herself, pulling Trevor with her. "You haven't been taking care of yourself," she observed as she began to rub his shoulders. "Trying to take care of everything else first?" 

[Gizmo]

Trevor leaned into Erin's hands with an attempt to articulate that it had seemed like the sensible thing at the time that came out much more as a resounding groan. The layers of lean muscle across his shoulders were rarely fully relaxed but today they were knotted with rock hard bunches that made audible popping and cracking sounds under her fingers. "Just... didn't seem important," he admitted sheepishly, knowing full well how foolish it sounded out loud. He half-stifled a gasp as a particularly tense knot gave way, shoulders rising and falling in time with heavy breaths. "Should have kept the room tidier, sorry." Generally their combined sense of practicality meant that their shared living space was rarely out of order but his heart obviously hadn't been in picking up after himself for the past week.

[Electra]

Erin made a noise that was half-laugh, half-hmph. "Yeah, it's a pigsty alright," she told him, looking at the few articles of clothing out of place, the tossed pillows and bedspread that spoke of restless nights. "You remember how many years I lived with Alex the Technicolor Tornado? You've got a lot to learn about being untidy, grasshopper. Here, lay down." Scooting over to kneel on the edge of the bed, she coaxed him to lay down on his stomach and continued the massage, careful not to push too hard as she worked the knots from his back. After a few long moments of silence, she spoke in a voice that was almost too soft to hear. "I couldn't even remember to eat the first few days after my mom," she admitted. "Didn't realize what the drugs had done to me and that I didn't really need to, but Megan did. I had to make a chart, eat so many times a day, sleep, wash, change clothes. Nothing seemed real for awhile, so none of it mattered very much. But it got... more real, I guess, eventually. Less disconnected. Eventually it didn't hurt quite so bad all the time." 

She leaned down and kissed the nape of his neck, rested her forehead there for a second and sighed. "You should sleep," she urged. "You can eat when you wake up. I'll stay here with you." 

[Gizmo]

Trevor didn't answer right away and for a moment Erin wondered if he'd already given into exhaustion before realizing that the rise and fall of his back had become less regular rather than more. Thin trails of midnight mist had begun to waft about the headboard, seeping out of the small gabs between the pillow and Trevor's head. Rolling over and sitting up again with some difficulty thanks to his injured arm, gradually loosing the battle to keep his chin from shuddering as he silently opened his mouth, failing to find words as inky wisps rolled from the corners of his eyes. Giving up he buried his face alongside Erin's collarbone, shoulders shaking as he finally allowed the full weight of the loss wash over him.

[Electra]

She wrapped her arms around him, curling her body over his as though the grief were a physical force she could shield him against. Crying was good, she knew, important, much healthier than the frozen numbness that came with not crying, but it still broke Erin's heart to see Trevor in pain. He'd held her through so many nightmares and bad memories and hard moments over the years, always so steady, always so strong when she was falling apart. She hadn't realized until now what that must have cost him, now that she was trying to give him the same stability. Once again she wished for the right words to say, but when they didn't appear, she whispered nonsense instead, murmuring soothing nothing into his ear and holding him as tears trickled down her own face. 

[Gizmo]

Eventually Trevor managed to drift off to sleep out of bone-deep exhaustion more than anything and when he woke he managed to eat something. With Erin home the acute pain of his grandfather's absence didn't lessen but it did become somewhat easier to shoulder with someone who could understand what he was feeling without requiring him to articulate that hurt in words.

It was also a little easier to allow his parents to help with the petty organization of things now that he didn't feel quite so outnumbered by them. Janet readily took on the task of planning the public funeral, deftly toeing a line between grandiose and tasteful. It turned out that Travis had touched a great many lives in his civilian persona, from old research partners and students from his brief time as a university instructor to beneficiaries of the grants and scholarships set up in the Hunter name. Those families who might have sought to ingratiate themselves to the new steward of the Hunter fortune were carefully and politely pruned from the guest list, though given face-saving opportunities to save face with appropriately thoughtful donations or sound bites. It was all quite practical and if Erin perhaps caught Janet quietly staring at a portrait of her ex-husband's father with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, it didn't seem a moment to comment upon later.

Ted saw to the legal and financial busywork with equal efficiency. It was no great surprise that the manor itself along with its contents and the bulk of Travis' liquid assets had been left to Trevor, with some interesting legalese ensuring his undisputed ownership of the esoteric collection of equipment and trophies housed below ground without naming them outright. More than comfortable with his own holdings, Ted seemed content enough with that arrangement; he came as near to raising his voice as any of the Hunter men ever had when an auditor suggested idly that he might have claim to dispute some of the will. He did sit down with Trevor and discuss frankly whether or not he would continue to manage his son's portfolio of stocks and other assets, a conversation that left Trevor feeling almost respected as a peer and decidedly uncomfortable for it. Specifically called out in the will and left to Ted was an antique chest stacked to the brim with well worn paperback books. The broad shouldered financier didn't deign to explain their significance but he did spend the remainder of his evening in Freedom City in the manor's library, silently going through them one at a time.

[Electra]

It was strange, Erin found, to live in a house where everyone was in mourning. She'd done plenty of mourning in her time, but rarely with company, and never with the luxury of spending dedicated time on it. The house didn't seem the same with Travis gone, even if she'd only seen him a few times a day, it was like she'd been aware of his presence without even realizing it. She occupied her time and her mind (she'd taken more time off work, disregarding the weeks she'd already missed) by taking care of all the household chores, from making sure Trevor was eating properly to dusting all the rooms that nobody ever went into. She did the grocery shopping and bought Travis' favorite cereal without thinking about it, then ate the entire box herself before Trevor could notice and feel sad. It was terrible stuff, grainy and fibrous, but she couldn't waste the food. She thought about rearranging one of the kitchens to make it easier to cook in, with four people eating every day, but then left everything exactly the way it was instead. Redbird helped her change the oil in two of the cars that probably might have needed it soon, the woman and the AI working with the efficiency of practiced teamwork and the awkwardness of knowing things had changed and not adjusting. 

She spent a lot of time with Trevor, which wasn't unusual when they were both home, except they were both home a lot more than usual lately. There wasn't much she could do to help him with the paperwork of the estate (or anyone with much of anything really, though she'd spent a tedious two hours affixing address labels to envelopes for Janet.) She made up a chart, tucked in the corner of her cell phone's memory, and made sure that everybody in the house got food put in front of them three times a day, even if they ignored it or disdained it, and that she coaxed Trevor into bed every twenty hours. The front parlor of the house began to fill up with floral arrangements that quickly began to spill into the sitting room and the library. Travis had earned many admirers in his long, long life. Erin started watering them, reading the directions on the little packets of plant food and carefully maintaining the water levels in each vase. It was good to keep busy. A conversation with Frank got her an appropriate black dress for the day of the funeral, and of course Trevor was always prepared for any formal occasion requiring dark colors. On the day of the funeral, Redbird suited up as a liveried chauffeur, carefully installed in a 1962 Rolls Royce limousine that Travis had often used when he went to parties back in the day. She looked like she wanted to talk to Trevor, or maybe give him a hug, but didn't know what to say. 

Edited May 13, 2015 by Electra

[Gizmo]

The Hunters had always kept their private matters truly private and it didn't strike most of the attendees odd that Ted should be the one delivering the eulogy. Trevor had made a few attempts at writing a speech for the occasion but found that there was no way for him to articulate what his grandfather had meant to him, to make the listeners genuinely understand the magnitude of the loss the entire city had suffered with his passing without compromising their shared secret identity. Anything less, any draft written in simple service to that deception had churned his stomach inexplicably and quickly been deleted from his tablet before he grew upset enough to throw the entire device against a wall. Eventually Ted had announced without discussion that he would be speaking at the public funeral. He didn't offer any argument in favour of it in particular and Trevor didn't offer any objection and so the matter was quietly resolved.

Afterward Trevor endured a procession of handshakes and a few ill advised embraces, largely from people he'd only met once or twice. Several of them had anecdotes about his grandfather as a younger man, stories he did his best to commit to memory even as he nodded politely, feeling numb more than anything else. Janet flitted gracefully about the luncheon in a custom-made black dress that was both the most striking and most tasteful outfit in the room, making introductions and subtly directing traffic so that no one lingered for too long. Many of the mourners were elderly themselves and few in as good physical condition as Travis had been right up until the end and so the crowd thinned fairly quickly and excuses were easily made for Trevor to escape the main room with Erin.

[Electra]

Erin stuck close by Trevor through every interminable step of the funeral and burial, holding his hand or his elbow or wrapping an arm around his waist in silent comfort, watching the proceedings and silently warning off anybody who might be so much as thinking about giving the Hunter heir any hint of a hard time for any reason. She hadn't expected the funeral to be so long. Rick Lucas' funeral had been pretty long, she remembered, but she'd been busy keeping an eye on Rick's old lover and illegitimate kid and making sure none of the artifacts wandered away, and the time had passed quickly. This one seemed to take forever, especially since she was trying to be very strong for Trevor and not cry even when the mortician closed the heavy mahogany lid of the casket and fastened its silver clasps for the last time ever ever ever, and she put her shoulder to one corner of it to help carry it down the long aisle of the biggest church in Freedom City. She'd been placed in the middle of the right side, behind Trevor and in front of Mayor O'Connell, carefully positioned so she couldn't lift too hard and unbalance anything, with Frank opposite her so he didn't have to do more than touch the casket. Ted was opposite Trevor, and in the back left was the curator of the Hunter Museum, who Erin didn't know at all but who'd apparently been a good friend to Travis. It felt like strange company, and she'd kept her eyes firmly to the front as they'd walked through the crowded church. Travis wasn't in the box, she reminded herself, but that didn't keep her from being very careful with it. 

Being at the front of the church meant a lot of eyes focused on them the entire time, but Erin couldn't help but sneak glances at Trevor every once in awhile. He hardly seemed present at all, almost like he was in a very subtle kind of shock. That was okay, she decided, so long as it made things easier for him. She did her best to remember things about the service, in case he wanted to hear about them later. Ted's eulogy was surprisingly affecting, for a man who spent so little time with his family, describing a few childhood stories and the lessons he'd learned from his father that had let him be successful in life. Erin wasn't impressed, knowing what kind of father Ted himself had become, but she did discreetly wipe her eyes a couple of times. She studied the cross at the front of the church and thought about Freedom Angel, thought about being War, thought about her afternoon in Heaven. At least she didn't need to wonder where Travis was right now. She wondered if sharing that insight with Trevor would help him or make things stranger for him. 

The drive to the cemetery was quiet, with Redbird handling the cortege driving expertly, her eyes full of silent questions. Erin tried to indicate that she'd try and explain funerals later, without actually saying anything. They'd developed a pretty decent working relationship over the course of their space travels, and Redbird seemed to understand. The cemetery was in North Bay, barely a mile from the Manor, old and stately and maintained in pristine condition. Travis was laid to rest next to Trevor's grandmother, the bare earth covered by a green quilt of astroturf to prevent anyone from having to think too hard about the grave itself. Erin stood near the coffin, her fingers laced with Trevor's, and remembered the communal grave she'd dug at her uncle's compound, huge and deep and largely a blessed blur in her memories, and the comparatively tiny hole in the hospital garden in Albuquerque, short months later. No funeral flowers there, no grave blankets or marble headstones. It was good, she decided, to have a place to go when you had to think about people you'd lost. This was a nice place to do that. Frank put a hand on her shoulder then, and she managed a little smile for him. 

After the graveside service, Erin nudged Trevor along as quickly as she could, not wanting to watch the casket actually being lowered into the ground. He didn't seem to have an opinion one way or the other, and she vowed to make sure he got something to eat and didn't spend too much time at the reception. People wouldn't really care, she reasoned, as long as they got their lunches. Before Trevor could have lunch, though, he had to run the gauntlet of his family's friends, some of whom were genuinely sympathetic and sad, but far too many who, in Erin's view, were little better than vultures feeding on grief. People were curious about the Hunters, and this was a rare opportunity to see their lives and deaths. Erin snuck away just long enough to fill a couple of plates, and was back by the time he managed to make a break for it, following him out of the room with a look behind her that suggested nobody ought to follow them. They settled down in the crying-baby room off the sanctuary, small and secluded and blessedly quiet. Erin pushed a plate into Trevor's hands and kept the other for herself as she selected one of the several rocking chairs to sit in. "How are you holding up?" she asked him quietly. 

[Gizmo]

"...not sure," Trevor admitted just as quietly after several moments of silence. He pushed a cherry tomato around the plate Erin had given him, something about it's cheerful red rotundness irritating his sensibilities. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses for a moment, willing that pointless, petty feeling down and realizing that he'd been doing the same with most everything he'd been feeling for the past several days, leaving him unsure how to describe his frame of mind. He wasn't angry anymore, really, not at himself specifically nor with the general, unfocused objection to the unfairness of an uncaring universe. He didn't feel as though he were in immediate danger of bursting into the closest thing to tears his mutated biology could manage anymore, either. All he was left with was a dull ache he struggled to put into words, with no idea how to directly address it. He wanted a plan of attack, a clearly broken part he could replace, a strength to shore up a weakness and found that he had none. "Not sure."

[Electra]

Erin nodded in understanding, picking at one edge of her own beautifully crafted pinwheel sandwich, three colors of meat, lettuce, tomatoes and cream cheese, all twirled up and very fancy-looking. Janet had not stinted on the refreshments any more than she had any other part of the planning. "Everything looked really nice," she offered, hooking one foot behind the leg of her rocker. "And it all went well. No supervillain attacks or anything." Erin had conscientiously avoided mentioning even the possibility of such until now, not wanting to push their luck. She suspected that some of their friends might have quietly seen to the security arrangements to make sure nothing happened today. "It was kinda weird to have so much that nobody talked about, but I guess these people and this kind of normal life, that was part of his life for a long time." She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to be a good example. 

 

[Gizmo]

Trevor made a soft sound that might have generously been interpreted as a murmur of agreement before looking up at Erin. He watched her for a moment, normally piercing eyes slightly unfocused as he removed his sunglasses in the relative privacy of the secluded room before looking down at the plate on his lap as if only just realizing what it was. "Oh. Yes." He took a bit out of a slice of cucumber and finished it in another, dimly realizing that he was indeed hungry. He finished the rest of the plate not ravenously but with a pointed efficiency.

Setting the plate aside, he looked about the room for a long moment before letting out a sigh. "Can we leave, do you think?" he asked Erin, unsure of his own judgement but feeling some of the emotional distance he'd build up around himself as insulation starting to crumble and not wanting to be in a public place when it collapsed. He gestured through the wall to the gathering at the reception but also more generally about the whole building and its proceedings. "This... nothing to do with him."

[Electra]

"Yeah, definitely," Erin told him, folding her empty plate in half and putting it in the trash can by the door. "I asked Redbird to go home and bring back one of the regular cars so we don't have to keep driving around in the limo. I'd have asked for her to bring the bike, but..." She gestured ruefully to her long black skirt. "Even in a Frank creation, I'd rather save that for an emergency. Or a city where nobody knows us, like in Dakana." She smiled just a little. "Come on, she'll be around back." Erin stepped out of the room and assessed the situation for possible complications, then waved Trevor out and towards the church's rear exit, looking a bit like a Secret Service agent guarding her principle. 

Luckily, what guests were still on hand for the luncheon hadn't wandered this far from the fellowship hall, and they made their escape unmolested, with Redbird waiting for them at the curb. She'd brought along a nondescript Pontiac Bonneville from the late 70s, one of the newer cars in the Manor's collection, black of course, and entirely nondescript. "So where would you like to go?" Erin asked Trevor when they were safely in the backseat.

[Gizmo]

Trevor almost said that he wanted to get behind the wheel and just drive around aimlessly for a while but his eyes were stinging with occasional, unexpected wisps of mist and his arms felt sore and tired like he'd pushed himself too hard during an intense workout. He knew most of that had to just be in his head but he wasn't sure he trusted himself behind the wheel just then. He was silent for longer than he meant to be, mulling over the question and letting Redbird take them in an aimless loop around a city block before saying, "The Manor. Midnight Manor." He made the distinction even though both the woman beside him and the autonomic machine intelligence who followed the direction and piloted the car toward home knew what he'd meant. The underground base, the network of caverns filled with equipment and mementos where his grandfather had spent so much time. That was where he needed to be.

[Electra]

Erin nodded and took Trevor's hand, looking out the window with him as Redbird turned the car towards home. It wasn't a long drive, but it was a very familiar one, wending through the spacious tree-lined boulevards of North Bay, most of the houses set so far back as to be barely visible, so that it was almost like driving through a walled park. The drive felt undeniably different today, though. Everything was different, a little off, as though they'd slipped through a dimensional barrier into an alternate universe that was incredibly close except for one glaring detail. She didn't know what to say that might helps, so she stayed quiet, and Redbird only spoke when they approached the garage, to ask if they wanted to go all the way in the car. "Yes, take us on down," Erin told her. 

The black car pulled into the garage and onto the lift concealed in the floor. As soon as it parked, the lift began to lower, dropping past the several garage levels where the Hunter car collection was stored, then deeper yet, into a dark tunnel that always made Erin feel uneasy and claustrophobic for the few moments before they touched down on the floor of the Midnight Manor. Redbird pulled forward and parked, letting the lift rise soundlessly back to the surface without them. "Turn on all the lights, would you?" Erin asked Redbird as she opened her door and got out of the car. "And get the displays going in the trophy room, please." 

[Gizmo]

Travis had rarely bothered to light whole sections of the Manor at once even once the on-site generators had been installed. With the entirety of the main chamber divested of its shadowy depths and shrouded corners its sheer size became more apparent. Trevor felt an unfamiliar, daunted feeling seize about his heart as he stepped forward, footfalls silent but uneven, halting. The enormity of everything his grandfather had accomplished, everything he had stood for stretched out in front of him, a crushing presence that threatened to force the air out of his lungs as his eyes fell on the rows of glass cases containing momentos ranging from a single singed playing card to an immaculately preserved costume in gold and royal blue to the broken shards of an ornate trident laid out atop black silk. Tangible proof of a life filled to bursting with triumphs and heartbreak and meaning.

If he could remember each of those stories, if he refused to let a single one fade into forgotten history then surely that would mean something, he insisted to himself. Physical components and a mental challenge, things he could deal with directly, a problem he could solve, a way to keep... to keep some part... His thoughts trailed off as he stopped in front of a pedestal topped with a glass case barely larger than a shoebox. Inside, supported by a translucent stand was the original Night Gun. Not the model that Travis had used when he began patrolling the streets of 1940s Freedom, that was in the case next to it with the many, many iterations that had followed all neatly laid out in a line. This was the original prototype created for a costume party, a literal prop, clunky and almost comically dramatic in its lines.

Trevor opened his mouth to speak and found he needed to run his tongue between his lips to get them to part. "Unlock display. Authorization Midnight Zero Zero Two."

A red light blinked on the sturdy looking mechanism attached to the pedestal where the glass case met it and a tinny electronic voice chirped, "Voice print and authorization code mismatch. Access denied."

The dark haired young man took a startled step backward and opened his mouth to repeat himself before closing it again with a furrowed brow. For several moments he stood simply confused, his mind racing in a hundred directions and stumbling over itself. Slowly a suspicion began to whisper and take hold, prompting him to take a deep, steadying breath. Squaring his shoulders and swallowing thickly, he spoke again. "Authorization Midnight Zero Zero One."

With cheerful green blink and buzz the lock snapped itself open and the front panel of the glass case retracted into the pedestal.

[Electra]

Erin fell back a couple of steps as they entered the trophy room, letting Trevor step forward alone into the large room filled with a lifetime's treasures. Trevor's trophies were in here as well, set along the near wall that was all she usually visited when she came in here. Sometimes she liked to see the rail gun Trevor had made or the chestplate she'd punched through, just to make sure that her own destiny hadn't been some kind of absurd dream. But most of the room was full of the original Midnight, dozens or maybe hundreds of pieces. Some of them really belonged in museums rather than locked away down here, but she wasn't about to suggest that, not right now at least.

Even from yards away, her sensitive ears picked up the exchange between Trevor and the security system, and the thickening in his voice. She went to him then, standing behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder for a reassuring squeeze. "He wanted it all to be yours," she murmured. "He always planned ahead."

[Gizmo]

Trevor reached out a hesitant hand to brush his fingertips gingerly over the barrel of the Night Gun, the machined metal stained a sooty black around the muzzle from the combination of the prototype design and the early midnight mist formula. Drawing back, he looked about the cavernous underground room as though seeing it for the first time, mouth hanging slightly open. "This is all... It's only me now." His shoulders slumped under Erin's hand and he sat down heavily on the cold floor of polished stone, leaning against the display pedestal. "The only Midnight. My trophy room. My manor. My decisions. My responsibility." Holding up his head with one hand, he looked over to Erin, a bereft look in his onyx and ruby eyes. "He's really gone."

[Electra]

Erin followed Trevor to the floor, kneeling next to him with her hands awkwardly smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. Her eyes were full of sympathy and unshed tears as she nodded. "He's in heaven now, and it's a really good place to be, but it's still not here with us," she agreed, and from her it was a statement of known fact rather than a platitude. "It's all yours now, but you're ready for it. He's been getting you ready all your life." She shook her head. "I don't know if you understand how proud he was of you. He was like you, didn't always say the words, but I could see it when he looked at you, how pleased and satisfied he was with who you are." She reached out and took his hand again, holding it tight. "And you know you're not alone." 

[Gizmo]

Closing his eyes, Trevor breathed slowly and steadily though his nose, gripping Erin's hand until the tightness in his chest loosened somewhat. He knew a dozen better, more effective ways to deal with stress and center himself but just then all any of those could accomplish was to remind him of the man who'd taught them to him. Eventually he parted his lips just enough to let out a long breath before rising to his feet and pulling Erin up along with him. "I do. That's why... I know I can do this." He didn't sound quite so sure as he usually did, but for then it was enough. Reaching over with his free hand he tapped the side of the display's pedestal and closed the glass case back over the Night Gun with a quiet hiss of pressurized air.