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rex_sunTitle: Where He Can Be Found
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mild adult themes)
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Characters: Barnaby Brooks Jr.-centric. Albert Maverick, Kotetsu T. Kaburagi.
Summary: (Alternate storyline.) Five years since Aunt Samantha was murdered, and yet still Kotetsu T. Kaburagi haunts Barnaby, like a spectre.
Even as the world starts to turn darker and nighttime comes in the middle of the day and Barnaby cannot move without slicing a wet leaf under his heel--
even so, there is no Lunatic.
This endless yearning that he's always felt intensifies, and it goes unanswered, and sometimes in his darkest moments when he's curling over a stomach ache and bad memories, he thinks maybe he's not so different. Does everyone feel like this? Is this life? Should he be satisfied by this?
(Then why does he dream unendingly of Kotetsu Kaburagi burning in a fire?)
Barnaby still guards the prison sometimes, but it seems more and more foolish. He feels the eyes of the guards on him, and he hears what they say sometimes when he passes-- "Who's he kidding? Lunatic would need an army to get past here." --and it makes Barnaby feel like a small child afraid of the dark. Why, indeed, is he so nervous when it comes to Kotetsu Kaburagi?
Bison tries to pat him on the shoulder and say, "We're all uncomfortable around the crazies. Nobody would want that lunatic on the streets. And after all, he did... well... Samantha Taylor and all..."
Barnaby needs no reminder. He didn't get a birthday cake again this year, after all. But still, he feels that perhaps what he should be feeling here is anger. If Kaburagi escapes, he can just capture the man again, right? It's not like the man could get far on his own. But instead Barnaby feels a sort of anxiousness on par or greater than when Jake broke out. Back when he questioned Jake, he never got a definitive answer on why Jake killed his parents-- but at least, in the end, Jake and Kriem died, and Ouroboros with them. He felt relieved, in a way.
But this-- there is no reason to this. No measure or base, no avenues to explore. Kotetsu Kaburagi is not Ouroboros; he did not take any of Aunt Samantha's money; when he spoke it made no sense. There is, somewhere in here, a bad disconnect: what is real for Kaburagi is not what is real for Barnaby. And whatever this is, it is not at all settled.
This. This is what keeps Barnaby on edge. Even as Fire Emblem and Rock Bison and Origami Cyclone and Dragon Warrior all move on. Even as Sky High, kind and patient, finally says, "Well, I should return to regular duties, but please do not hesitate to call on me if ever you are in need of assistance." Even as Blue Rose, with one last, uncomfortable look at the matter finally gives up with a shake of her head--
Still. Still. Still.
Even as he keeps a tired eye on every scrap of news concerning crime. Even as he takes a note from Sky High's book and begins a sort of nightly patrol. Even as men continue to murder and Lunatic continues to remain in shadows--
Barnaby holds his breath and waits for something. For the connection. For everything to start making sense.
At least he has Wild Tiger.
In time the other heroes seem to forget about Kaburagi and Lunatic entirely. This is around the time when people start pulling on gloves and scarves and talking about a joyous holiday season. Barnaby feels sick and dark at these words, but says nothing; admittedly it is hard to feel as distressed when people randomly offer sweets or try to fix him with an antler headband.
Most pertinently, though, they feel free to all go back to lighthearted gossiping. Pertinent because, although Barnaby would usually not listen to such nonsense that wasn't about him, he sees and confirms the rumors only two days later.
The girls-- that is, Blue Rose, Dragon Warrior, and Fire Emblem --all happen to whisper something like, "Ms. Agnes isn't looking too well lately, is she?"
"It's strange because she's usually so well put-together."
"Maybe it's a man she's thinking of~?" Fire Emblem suggests with a wink.
Two days later, then, and as he is walking towards Agnes, who is hurrying down the hall ahead of them, the overheard conversation arises again in his mind. Barnaby thinks he sees a certain limp to her curls today, a bit more irritation in the way she taps her pointy-toed pumps.
"Yo, Agnes!" Wild Tiger calls, raising a hand in greeting. The woman jumps and turns on her heel, glaring back. Wild Tiger frowns. "Whoa, sorry if I startled you."
Agnes glares at Wild Tiger for a moment before sliding her eyes over to Barnaby. "Is there something you want?"
Barnaby glances at Tiger, nonplussed, but Tiger does not seem disturbed. "We just wanted to ask if there's any new information on Lunatic--"
"There isn't," Agnes snaps. "I doubt we'll be finding him any time soon, so you can stop asking."
Barnaby pauses, taken aback by the uncharacteristic tone of her voice. She gives one last glare to Tiger and then trounces off, looking over her shoulder often.
"Did you do something to upset her?" Barnaby asks in a whisper.
Tiger shrugs jovially. "Maybe."
“She's back to normal," Blue Rose sighs some few days later.
"I suppose she realized what a hot mess she was being."
"Hey, that's not nice to Ms. Agnes..."
December turns to its second half and the world finally decides to bestow upon Barnaby an adequate Christmas gift: Kotetsu Kaburagi's execution date has finally, finally been set.
Barnaby knocks and slides into Uncle Maverick's room with an inerasable smile on his face. (Over, finally it's over.) Uncle Maverick looks over, remote in hand, TV running a report on the execution. He smiles back, caught by Barnaby's happiness and relief.
"Come here," Maverick calls, and this time Barnaby rushes to his side and immediately sits on the bed to lay his head down on his Uncle's shoulder. He feels like a child, but sometimes, he is finding, that isn't so bad.
"Thank you, Uncle Maverick," Barnaby says sincerely, leaning into the hand brushing back his hair. "We couldn't have gotten this far without you." It's a very general statement, referring to several small things and many large things, but it's true and that's what counts.
"If only I could hold on longer," Maverick sighs. He turns his head for a coughing fit. Barnaby doesn't move and tries not to cry. This is a happy day, not one for tears. "I want to see this through to the end. For you, Barnaby."
Barnaby closes his eyes, content and warm and safe and so very, very grateful. Soon it all will end and he can move on. Soon spring will come and with it a new life, one free from revenge and suspense and tenterhooks.
"Barnaby, can you do something for me?"
"Anything."
"Promise me you won't go to his funeral. And don't go to his execution."
"But--"
"Barnaby..."
Barnaby allows, then, himself to be quelled. With each pass of Maverick's soothing, petting hand, Barnaby can only agree more and more, until eventually he forgets what it was he was going to protest with. He relinquishes himself to a light sleep.
It's with no secret spring in his step that Barnaby returns to his work. When chasing down criminals he no longer feels an oppressive anxiety; when giving interviews, naturally the pretty young lady with the recorder turns to discussion of Kotetsu Kaburagi, and this time Barnaby has no trouble speaking of him.
"He was convicted by judge and jury. This is what has been decided. They gave him the punishment they felt was necessary and just under the law."
Whenever Barnaby happens to be in a room with the other heroes-- well, no one ever forgets that another human life is soon to die, and so celebration would not be appropriate in any sense of the word-- but they smile at him a little broader, maybe pat him on the shoulder. They are his comrades, and they are happy to see him happy.
And Agnes, too, seems to have pulled herself together, he notes-- except it seems that instead of her usual fervor, she is being calm, cool, and collected to make up for her moments of worryingly evident distress. She keeps a careful check on herself and smiles pleasantly at everyone she should be smiling to.
But every now and then, for some strange reason, Barnaby himself is privy to a different side of the woman. One that reminds him rather like a bug running scared in a room full of feet.
That is the sort of woman Barnaby, Tiger by his side, walks up to in the entrance hall at the end of the day, just past the security stiles. They had happened to take the elevator together, in which Agnes had kept her back to the wall. Her eyes had been lowered, squinted, but Barnaby had been very sure she was glaring at Wild Tiger's stylish shoes. And as soon as the elevator dinged, Agnes hurried out, high-heeled boots clacking viciously on the tiles. She pulled ahead of them very quickly, phone clutched in her hand.
Agnes has been slowing down ever since she began to look at her phone, however. He supposes she must be reading something. As Barnaby and Wild Tiger draw closer, Barnaby peaks over her shoulder out of mild curiosity.
"Have a nice night, Agnes," Wild Tiger says with a doff of his hat. Agnes straightens her back and frowns at him, but reluctantly tilts her own head in acknowledgment.
Barnaby says nothing. What is written in an article about Kotetsu Kaburagi that could bring Agnes Joubert, multi-tasker extraordinaire, to a halt?
In the office of the home he and Maverick have made together, Barnaby pulls up every news website he knows. His first few browsings reveal nothing, but at last he finds the article Agnes had been reading. It's fairly long for a piece on a specific criminal-- Barnaby is no fool, he's almost certain that Uncle Maverick is continuing to help by putting pressure, or having his underlings put pressure, on news. This article should only say that which is actually new, about Kaburagi's execution date in the summer. Instead it recounts the murder, the chase (conveniently skipping over the bloody beat-down he received courtesy of one angry Barnaby Brooks Jr.)-- the usual song and dance of his imprisonment. It recounts the odd incident with his brother and Lunatic back in the fall, forgets to mention the rest of the Kaburagi family, and skips to his execution after that.
Nothing new. Nothing life-changing. Barnaby lets out a relieved sigh and scrolls to the bottom to read the comments, and even these seem harmless as he reads. The first is a paragraph long and has the most thumbs-up. Just a little old lady it says, amongst other things condemning the criminal, then ends with, My condolences to any family and her near-family, Barnaby Brooks Jr. Barnaby smiles and gives the comment yet another deserved thumbs-up.
The second one is the most-replied-to comment. This person is rather zealous, almost distastefully so, about the execution.
The discussion and arguments that follow turn to Lunatic: You're just like Lunatic one says
and another says, What's wrong with that? He's got the right idea. Yet another says, Lunatic's nothing to be proud of anymore. He went off the deep end protecting Muramasa Kaburagi. Now he's disappeared and all sorts of murderers and rapists are just out there, getting caught by heroes, getting to keep their lives.
And the most interesting of all is a person-- according to her profile, just a little old lady like Samantha --who says I just find it interesting that in all of our years until now, Sternbild was known for NOT executing prisoners. Now ever since Lunatic showed up six or whatever years ago, the government has been slowly easing into using capital punishment. Seems Kaburagi is the jewel in their crown. Do they feel they have to keep up with Lunatic?
The third is a unique feature of the site: they also showcase the most thumbed-down comment on the article in the top three. Barnaby takes a deep breath and braces himself before expanding the comment from a user simply known as "Ben".
He reads. He x's out of the window without thumbing it down.
He feels, quite suddenly, very nauseous.
Barnaby jumps to hear a knock on his door. Molly cracks open the door and peers in, eyebrows raised. "Barnaby? I've been calling you for dinner. Are you coming?"
"Yes, sorry," Barnaby says hastily, locking his computer down.
Only upon entering the kitchen does he realize that 'calling for dinner' means 'please come make dinner'. Molly has such a sweet smile, though, Barnaby stutters for a moment then can't help but to smile and shake his head. "Alright, alright."
"Yes!" she cries, throwing her hands above her head. She prances out of the kitchen on tip-toes, leaving Barnaby to laugh softly to himself.
Once he's plated it, he looks down at the dinner he's made them and wonders. Fried rice? What made him think of fried-rice? Still pondering, he balances the plates and takes them across the living room and down the hall. Molly has left the door open.
There they sleep; Uncle Maverick's hair is bed-tousled, and his skin is pale enough to nearly blend with the sheets. Molly, on the bed beside him, rests her head lightly on his shoulder, a move that reminds Barnaby of himself. For once her expression is quite serious, even though her eyes are closed. They open their eyes and look up when the smell of fried rice hits them.
Molly sits up and throws her scarf over her shoulder to eat. She accepts her plate graciously, but there's a strange look on her face. Even Uncle Maverick is frowning.
"Fried rice," Barnaby says, pointing out the obvious. "You like this stuff, right?"
"No, I'm afraid I can't say it's my favorite. But thank you anyway, Barnaby."
Barnaby flushes, confused and embarrassed, and it only worsens when Molly laughs around the spoonful in her mouth and says, "You're as bad at cooking as I am! I should've just cooked! Oh, but yes, thanks, Barnaby."
He smiles in an attempt to mask the worry that has settled over him anew.
Later as he enjoys a cup of tea while lounging in his favorite green armchair and listening to his most soothing opera, Barnaby thinks of that blog. Of Ben. Ivan was right; there really are people out there that think Kotetsu Kaburagi is the real Wild Tiger. It should be absurd, not discomforting.
Should Barnaby go through the trouble of tracking this man down? Confirming his identity as Wild Tiger's old boss? ...Why was his first thought not to just ask Wild Tiger?
(Why would Lunatic help a guilty man? Ben asked. )
Why, why, why does Barnaby feel that the only way to get his answer is to speak to Kotetsu Kaburagi in person? Just once more...
In the morning, bright, gray, and nippy, he pulls on slippers and does his duty to his Uncle Maverick. The days are getting shorter, in more ways than one. Maverick looks like a different person nowadays, and there is a certain smell to the room now-- unavoidable; sick; rotting. Maverick has his good days still but mostly they are bad days, and his hands shake and his breath pants and his eyes slide closed. Barnaby knows that he is in pain but he is a stoic man and he rarely lets it show on his face.
Maverick, too, knows that the time is coming, and he makes nasty calls and orders whomever to 'hurry it up'. If asked it would be hard to point out one particular moment, but Barnaby has a sense that Maverick is constantly worrying, just like Barnaby, and that his worry makes his tongue sharp.
Barnaby closes his nose to the smell of the cancer as much as he can, but he washes the bedding quite often, perhaps more so than he has to. As he mechanically sorts through the washes, he thinks again of that article, Ben's comment, and of his irrational urge to speak to that madman again. Ben: over a thousand comments under his belt on that particular site, a long time member, rated a top contributor. Barnaby had gone back and read through some of his top-rating comments on his profile, and they all seemed so reasonable. Barnaby had been so sure that he would be another crook, another raver, another under the spell of lunacy-- but he wasn't. He was just a man that honestly believed in everything he said.
"Lost in thought again?"
Barnaby drops the pillow case he'd been folding and looks over his shoulder to see Molly grinning at him.
"How's Albert?" she asks.
"He's having a good day," he answers, straightening his glasses. "He's trying to take a bath, but he might need help--"
"Got it." She winks and disappears, leaving Barnaby to a suddenly decided self.
Barnaby makes the bed with a steady hand-- a flick of the wrist here, a sharp snap down here, and the sheets float so softly down. He frowns at them in disapproval: no matter how much he bleaches them, apparently, they won't go back to white. There's a great yellow and gray stain where the body has lain all this time that will never disappear.
Molly has left her jacket draped over a chair and her boots strewn haphazardly near the closed door to the bathroom. Barnaby sighs and bends over to take up her scarf; it's green and soft and fuzzy-- new.
Strangely, he feels something in his gut churning.
"Barnaby?" Molly calls from behind the door. "Could you help me get him back to bed?"
He hesitates before finally ripping his eyes away from the damned scarf. "Yes, of course!"
Some time later Molly finally decides that it is time to properly hang her stuff and make tea. Barnaby takes the opportunity when she has left the room to speak his mind, albeit nervously.
"Uncle Maverick?" Barnaby begins cautiously.
Maverick sighs through his nose and opens his tired eyes. Barnaby takes this to be an acknowledgment.
"I wanted to talk to you about something. About... Kotetsu Kaburagi."
Maverick immediately groans and shakes his head. "Barnaby, Barnaby, Barnaby," he sighs in exasperation, then has to catch his breath again. In that pause, Barnaby springs,
"I know you disapprove, sir, but I just can't help it. Please understand. I don't want to go behind your back, I'd much rather--"
"No, Barnaby..."
"It's just that there's so much I don't understand, sir. It's the same as the need I felt to question Jake back then--" (a lie Barnaby is eager to fool even himself with. The truth is that the sensation is somehow different) "--you must understand that?"
"Barnaby... He'd be no use to you," Maverick grunts, doing his best to sit up on his own, refusing Barnaby's proffered hand. "Just... mad..."
"I know," Barnaby says with a shake of his head. "Or, I should know. But for some reason I'm doubting that. I don't understand why I should doubt such a thing."
Maverick considers him with watered, tired eyes. "Don't want you hurt, Barnaby..."
"I know--"
"I want you to continue with your life, your career... Don't just live in the past, Barnaby." Maverick's voice is thin and rough.
"Please understand, sir--"
"Barnaby... Promise me."
It's too vague-- "But..."
"Promise."
Barnaby sighs and threads his fingers through his hair in a show of frustration. His body feels tight and angry, pulled this way and that by what he wants and what he should do. His tongue swells with all of the arguments he could present, would present if Uncle Maverick was as young and fit as once he was.
"I promise," he says as last, barely more than a whisper.
Maverick settles back into his pillows, satisfied. "You've always been a good boy, Barnaby."
They watch each other for a while, and Barnaby doesn't feel like a good boy. Doesn't feel like the man he is supposed to be. He feels just like the petulant, arrogant little kid who used to hide underneath a veneer of ice. The boy who had no friends, no girls, the boy who didn't know how to love another person.
"Come here, Barnaby," Maverick says, holding out his hand. It shakes with the effort of lifting.
Barnaby considers it. Just let go of your anger, fool, he thinks to himself. Just give in and do as the poor man says. You owe him so much.
Both of them quickly turn their heads to a yelp from the direction of the kitchen.
"Molly must be burning the tea again," Barnaby says, trying to hitch a false layer of fondness over his frustration. "I'll go help her. She can be very accident-prone."
Maverick looks like he will protest, hand still held out, but Barnaby turns his back. It feels like a move halfway to final.
What an ingrate he is! It's an honest thought, but halfway across the living room he feels this small drop roar into a wave: guilt, and a lot of it, and he doesn't know from where. It's almost frightening, like standing in the shallow waters and feeling with your feet, and then all of a sudden your probe sends back the knowledge of some steep drop-off, some great chasm, unexpected and unknowable.
He opens the kitchen door and rushes to put out the small fire on the stove. Molly smiles prettily. "You've saved me, hero!"
(He was four years old. Uncle Maverick took him by the hand and led him through the square to see all the different stalls. He sent a bit of time on the skating rink while Maverick watched. Uncle Maverick bought [Wild Tiger] two matching pins. {Where'd the hat come from?} They took a picture together in front of the tree [while Samantha watched] {the picture develops, it's Samantha}. He turns and tells Uncle Maverick that he will show his parents this.
Rode home. The seats were warm. Fancy car. Snow turned slush under tires. Door slam. He can make it from here.
He went inside the house. So big in his memories. Gunshot. He looks down. Blood splatters leading down the hall, hall paved with concrete. He followed them, creaked open the door to a room on fire. Kotetsu Kaburagi, there, in the middle of the floor [his parents] and there's another Barnaby standing over him [them]. The other Barnaby catches fire [in the flames, it was Kotetsu Kaburagi]. Look down, Samantha smiling serenely. Look up, Jake on fire. [It was his parents dead.]
And fire and fire and when it settles he was on top of Kotetsu Kaburagi, fists flailing. The man cried. His fist came down, and when it met Kotetsu's face it did not stop but kept going down. Barnaby feels the blood {but he was wearing gloves} sees the blood pearl into a bead and fall from his fingers. Kotetsu's blood ran watery, married halfway down his face with tears.
And down went his fist: to the shoulder this time, shattering under his fist as easily as glass. Kotetsu cried out in agony, throat cracking. He didn't yell the whole time; there came a point where he passed out, but Barnaby can't remember at what point.
And down went his fist: shatter. He wanted {stop} to see the man shatter. Shoulder first, and then his elbow, and then his hand, and then the rest of this accursed arm, this arm that kills {when?} Samantha {how?}.
And down went his reasoning, his sensitivities, his human body. Animal and rage swelled up, and savage-- rip. Rip the bones from their place-- a wet sound. And down--
A sound of footsteps. Barnaby looks up. It's Kotetsu. He is smiling. Look down. His hands are around Jake's throat. Look up. Kotetsu is frowning at him. {The man cried.} Look down-- it is Wild Tiger crumpled in his fists.
Look up. Kotetsu is gone. Look down. Wild Tiger is gone. Look all around.
{He is alone.} )
From such a dream one should bolt awake, panting hard, the fear natural to a mind still half-asleep. But Barnaby's eyes slide open slowly, heavy and not yet ready to be awake. He feels no fear but instead a great sadness, and mindlessly he cries. The tears follow the curve of his face and trace his lips, tickle his nose.
It is 4 am, and so he sleeps again, and it begins again. This time he wakes after the part where he opens the door to the living room, and this time he saw many people on fire standing over his parents: Jake, Kriem, Samantha, Lunatic, Barnaby himself, Maverick, Kaburagi, and then back to Maverick again and then Wild Tiger, of all people, and then the person was just that one nameless figure.
He begins to feel ashamed over a cup of coffee and has to take several minutes of deep breathing to hold back the tears threatening him once more. For some reason the particular image of Kaburagi's crying, bleeding, smashed face keeps resurfacing, and he chokes on it as if it were a physical parasite instead of just a mental one.
He sets his mug down hard on the counter and reminds himself that he has already promised Maverick that he would not have anything more to do with Kotetsu Kaburagi.
He thinks for a moment and comes up with this unsatisfactory alternative:
There is always Wild Tiger. Always.
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mild adult themes)
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Characters: Barnaby Brooks Jr.-centric. Albert Maverick, Kotetsu T. Kaburagi.
Summary: (Alternate storyline.) Five years since Aunt Samantha was murdered, and yet still Kotetsu T. Kaburagi haunts Barnaby, like a spectre.
Even as the world starts to turn darker and nighttime comes in the middle of the day and Barnaby cannot move without slicing a wet leaf under his heel--
even so, there is no Lunatic.
This endless yearning that he's always felt intensifies, and it goes unanswered, and sometimes in his darkest moments when he's curling over a stomach ache and bad memories, he thinks maybe he's not so different. Does everyone feel like this? Is this life? Should he be satisfied by this?
(Then why does he dream unendingly of Kotetsu Kaburagi burning in a fire?)
Barnaby still guards the prison sometimes, but it seems more and more foolish. He feels the eyes of the guards on him, and he hears what they say sometimes when he passes-- "Who's he kidding? Lunatic would need an army to get past here." --and it makes Barnaby feel like a small child afraid of the dark. Why, indeed, is he so nervous when it comes to Kotetsu Kaburagi?
Bison tries to pat him on the shoulder and say, "We're all uncomfortable around the crazies. Nobody would want that lunatic on the streets. And after all, he did... well... Samantha Taylor and all..."
Barnaby needs no reminder. He didn't get a birthday cake again this year, after all. But still, he feels that perhaps what he should be feeling here is anger. If Kaburagi escapes, he can just capture the man again, right? It's not like the man could get far on his own. But instead Barnaby feels a sort of anxiousness on par or greater than when Jake broke out. Back when he questioned Jake, he never got a definitive answer on why Jake killed his parents-- but at least, in the end, Jake and Kriem died, and Ouroboros with them. He felt relieved, in a way.
But this-- there is no reason to this. No measure or base, no avenues to explore. Kotetsu Kaburagi is not Ouroboros; he did not take any of Aunt Samantha's money; when he spoke it made no sense. There is, somewhere in here, a bad disconnect: what is real for Kaburagi is not what is real for Barnaby. And whatever this is, it is not at all settled.
This. This is what keeps Barnaby on edge. Even as Fire Emblem and Rock Bison and Origami Cyclone and Dragon Warrior all move on. Even as Sky High, kind and patient, finally says, "Well, I should return to regular duties, but please do not hesitate to call on me if ever you are in need of assistance." Even as Blue Rose, with one last, uncomfortable look at the matter finally gives up with a shake of her head--
Still. Still. Still.
Even as he keeps a tired eye on every scrap of news concerning crime. Even as he takes a note from Sky High's book and begins a sort of nightly patrol. Even as men continue to murder and Lunatic continues to remain in shadows--
Barnaby holds his breath and waits for something. For the connection. For everything to start making sense.
At least he has Wild Tiger.
In time the other heroes seem to forget about Kaburagi and Lunatic entirely. This is around the time when people start pulling on gloves and scarves and talking about a joyous holiday season. Barnaby feels sick and dark at these words, but says nothing; admittedly it is hard to feel as distressed when people randomly offer sweets or try to fix him with an antler headband.
Most pertinently, though, they feel free to all go back to lighthearted gossiping. Pertinent because, although Barnaby would usually not listen to such nonsense that wasn't about him, he sees and confirms the rumors only two days later.
The girls-- that is, Blue Rose, Dragon Warrior, and Fire Emblem --all happen to whisper something like, "Ms. Agnes isn't looking too well lately, is she?"
"It's strange because she's usually so well put-together."
"Maybe it's a man she's thinking of~?" Fire Emblem suggests with a wink.
Two days later, then, and as he is walking towards Agnes, who is hurrying down the hall ahead of them, the overheard conversation arises again in his mind. Barnaby thinks he sees a certain limp to her curls today, a bit more irritation in the way she taps her pointy-toed pumps.
"Yo, Agnes!" Wild Tiger calls, raising a hand in greeting. The woman jumps and turns on her heel, glaring back. Wild Tiger frowns. "Whoa, sorry if I startled you."
Agnes glares at Wild Tiger for a moment before sliding her eyes over to Barnaby. "Is there something you want?"
Barnaby glances at Tiger, nonplussed, but Tiger does not seem disturbed. "We just wanted to ask if there's any new information on Lunatic--"
"There isn't," Agnes snaps. "I doubt we'll be finding him any time soon, so you can stop asking."
Barnaby pauses, taken aback by the uncharacteristic tone of her voice. She gives one last glare to Tiger and then trounces off, looking over her shoulder often.
"Did you do something to upset her?" Barnaby asks in a whisper.
Tiger shrugs jovially. "Maybe."
“She's back to normal," Blue Rose sighs some few days later.
"I suppose she realized what a hot mess she was being."
"Hey, that's not nice to Ms. Agnes..."
December turns to its second half and the world finally decides to bestow upon Barnaby an adequate Christmas gift: Kotetsu Kaburagi's execution date has finally, finally been set.
Barnaby knocks and slides into Uncle Maverick's room with an inerasable smile on his face. (Over, finally it's over.) Uncle Maverick looks over, remote in hand, TV running a report on the execution. He smiles back, caught by Barnaby's happiness and relief.
"Come here," Maverick calls, and this time Barnaby rushes to his side and immediately sits on the bed to lay his head down on his Uncle's shoulder. He feels like a child, but sometimes, he is finding, that isn't so bad.
"Thank you, Uncle Maverick," Barnaby says sincerely, leaning into the hand brushing back his hair. "We couldn't have gotten this far without you." It's a very general statement, referring to several small things and many large things, but it's true and that's what counts.
"If only I could hold on longer," Maverick sighs. He turns his head for a coughing fit. Barnaby doesn't move and tries not to cry. This is a happy day, not one for tears. "I want to see this through to the end. For you, Barnaby."
Barnaby closes his eyes, content and warm and safe and so very, very grateful. Soon it all will end and he can move on. Soon spring will come and with it a new life, one free from revenge and suspense and tenterhooks.
"Barnaby, can you do something for me?"
"Anything."
"Promise me you won't go to his funeral. And don't go to his execution."
"But--"
"Barnaby..."
Barnaby allows, then, himself to be quelled. With each pass of Maverick's soothing, petting hand, Barnaby can only agree more and more, until eventually he forgets what it was he was going to protest with. He relinquishes himself to a light sleep.
It's with no secret spring in his step that Barnaby returns to his work. When chasing down criminals he no longer feels an oppressive anxiety; when giving interviews, naturally the pretty young lady with the recorder turns to discussion of Kotetsu Kaburagi, and this time Barnaby has no trouble speaking of him.
"He was convicted by judge and jury. This is what has been decided. They gave him the punishment they felt was necessary and just under the law."
Whenever Barnaby happens to be in a room with the other heroes-- well, no one ever forgets that another human life is soon to die, and so celebration would not be appropriate in any sense of the word-- but they smile at him a little broader, maybe pat him on the shoulder. They are his comrades, and they are happy to see him happy.
And Agnes, too, seems to have pulled herself together, he notes-- except it seems that instead of her usual fervor, she is being calm, cool, and collected to make up for her moments of worryingly evident distress. She keeps a careful check on herself and smiles pleasantly at everyone she should be smiling to.
But every now and then, for some strange reason, Barnaby himself is privy to a different side of the woman. One that reminds him rather like a bug running scared in a room full of feet.
That is the sort of woman Barnaby, Tiger by his side, walks up to in the entrance hall at the end of the day, just past the security stiles. They had happened to take the elevator together, in which Agnes had kept her back to the wall. Her eyes had been lowered, squinted, but Barnaby had been very sure she was glaring at Wild Tiger's stylish shoes. And as soon as the elevator dinged, Agnes hurried out, high-heeled boots clacking viciously on the tiles. She pulled ahead of them very quickly, phone clutched in her hand.
Agnes has been slowing down ever since she began to look at her phone, however. He supposes she must be reading something. As Barnaby and Wild Tiger draw closer, Barnaby peaks over her shoulder out of mild curiosity.
"Have a nice night, Agnes," Wild Tiger says with a doff of his hat. Agnes straightens her back and frowns at him, but reluctantly tilts her own head in acknowledgment.
Barnaby says nothing. What is written in an article about Kotetsu Kaburagi that could bring Agnes Joubert, multi-tasker extraordinaire, to a halt?
In the office of the home he and Maverick have made together, Barnaby pulls up every news website he knows. His first few browsings reveal nothing, but at last he finds the article Agnes had been reading. It's fairly long for a piece on a specific criminal-- Barnaby is no fool, he's almost certain that Uncle Maverick is continuing to help by putting pressure, or having his underlings put pressure, on news. This article should only say that which is actually new, about Kaburagi's execution date in the summer. Instead it recounts the murder, the chase (conveniently skipping over the bloody beat-down he received courtesy of one angry Barnaby Brooks Jr.)-- the usual song and dance of his imprisonment. It recounts the odd incident with his brother and Lunatic back in the fall, forgets to mention the rest of the Kaburagi family, and skips to his execution after that.
Nothing new. Nothing life-changing. Barnaby lets out a relieved sigh and scrolls to the bottom to read the comments, and even these seem harmless as he reads. The first is a paragraph long and has the most thumbs-up. Just a little old lady it says, amongst other things condemning the criminal, then ends with, My condolences to any family and her near-family, Barnaby Brooks Jr. Barnaby smiles and gives the comment yet another deserved thumbs-up.
The second one is the most-replied-to comment. This person is rather zealous, almost distastefully so, about the execution.
The discussion and arguments that follow turn to Lunatic: You're just like Lunatic one says
and another says, What's wrong with that? He's got the right idea. Yet another says, Lunatic's nothing to be proud of anymore. He went off the deep end protecting Muramasa Kaburagi. Now he's disappeared and all sorts of murderers and rapists are just out there, getting caught by heroes, getting to keep their lives.
And the most interesting of all is a person-- according to her profile, just a little old lady like Samantha --who says I just find it interesting that in all of our years until now, Sternbild was known for NOT executing prisoners. Now ever since Lunatic showed up six or whatever years ago, the government has been slowly easing into using capital punishment. Seems Kaburagi is the jewel in their crown. Do they feel they have to keep up with Lunatic?
The third is a unique feature of the site: they also showcase the most thumbed-down comment on the article in the top three. Barnaby takes a deep breath and braces himself before expanding the comment from a user simply known as "Ben".
He reads. He x's out of the window without thumbing it down.
He feels, quite suddenly, very nauseous.
Barnaby jumps to hear a knock on his door. Molly cracks open the door and peers in, eyebrows raised. "Barnaby? I've been calling you for dinner. Are you coming?"
"Yes, sorry," Barnaby says hastily, locking his computer down.
Only upon entering the kitchen does he realize that 'calling for dinner' means 'please come make dinner'. Molly has such a sweet smile, though, Barnaby stutters for a moment then can't help but to smile and shake his head. "Alright, alright."
"Yes!" she cries, throwing her hands above her head. She prances out of the kitchen on tip-toes, leaving Barnaby to laugh softly to himself.
Once he's plated it, he looks down at the dinner he's made them and wonders. Fried rice? What made him think of fried-rice? Still pondering, he balances the plates and takes them across the living room and down the hall. Molly has left the door open.
There they sleep; Uncle Maverick's hair is bed-tousled, and his skin is pale enough to nearly blend with the sheets. Molly, on the bed beside him, rests her head lightly on his shoulder, a move that reminds Barnaby of himself. For once her expression is quite serious, even though her eyes are closed. They open their eyes and look up when the smell of fried rice hits them.
Molly sits up and throws her scarf over her shoulder to eat. She accepts her plate graciously, but there's a strange look on her face. Even Uncle Maverick is frowning.
"Fried rice," Barnaby says, pointing out the obvious. "You like this stuff, right?"
"No, I'm afraid I can't say it's my favorite. But thank you anyway, Barnaby."
Barnaby flushes, confused and embarrassed, and it only worsens when Molly laughs around the spoonful in her mouth and says, "You're as bad at cooking as I am! I should've just cooked! Oh, but yes, thanks, Barnaby."
He smiles in an attempt to mask the worry that has settled over him anew.
Later as he enjoys a cup of tea while lounging in his favorite green armchair and listening to his most soothing opera, Barnaby thinks of that blog. Of Ben. Ivan was right; there really are people out there that think Kotetsu Kaburagi is the real Wild Tiger. It should be absurd, not discomforting.
Should Barnaby go through the trouble of tracking this man down? Confirming his identity as Wild Tiger's old boss? ...Why was his first thought not to just ask Wild Tiger?
(Why would Lunatic help a guilty man? Ben asked. )
Why, why, why does Barnaby feel that the only way to get his answer is to speak to Kotetsu Kaburagi in person? Just once more...
In the morning, bright, gray, and nippy, he pulls on slippers and does his duty to his Uncle Maverick. The days are getting shorter, in more ways than one. Maverick looks like a different person nowadays, and there is a certain smell to the room now-- unavoidable; sick; rotting. Maverick has his good days still but mostly they are bad days, and his hands shake and his breath pants and his eyes slide closed. Barnaby knows that he is in pain but he is a stoic man and he rarely lets it show on his face.
Maverick, too, knows that the time is coming, and he makes nasty calls and orders whomever to 'hurry it up'. If asked it would be hard to point out one particular moment, but Barnaby has a sense that Maverick is constantly worrying, just like Barnaby, and that his worry makes his tongue sharp.
Barnaby closes his nose to the smell of the cancer as much as he can, but he washes the bedding quite often, perhaps more so than he has to. As he mechanically sorts through the washes, he thinks again of that article, Ben's comment, and of his irrational urge to speak to that madman again. Ben: over a thousand comments under his belt on that particular site, a long time member, rated a top contributor. Barnaby had gone back and read through some of his top-rating comments on his profile, and they all seemed so reasonable. Barnaby had been so sure that he would be another crook, another raver, another under the spell of lunacy-- but he wasn't. He was just a man that honestly believed in everything he said.
"Lost in thought again?"
Barnaby drops the pillow case he'd been folding and looks over his shoulder to see Molly grinning at him.
"How's Albert?" she asks.
"He's having a good day," he answers, straightening his glasses. "He's trying to take a bath, but he might need help--"
"Got it." She winks and disappears, leaving Barnaby to a suddenly decided self.
Barnaby makes the bed with a steady hand-- a flick of the wrist here, a sharp snap down here, and the sheets float so softly down. He frowns at them in disapproval: no matter how much he bleaches them, apparently, they won't go back to white. There's a great yellow and gray stain where the body has lain all this time that will never disappear.
Molly has left her jacket draped over a chair and her boots strewn haphazardly near the closed door to the bathroom. Barnaby sighs and bends over to take up her scarf; it's green and soft and fuzzy-- new.
Strangely, he feels something in his gut churning.
"Barnaby?" Molly calls from behind the door. "Could you help me get him back to bed?"
He hesitates before finally ripping his eyes away from the damned scarf. "Yes, of course!"
Some time later Molly finally decides that it is time to properly hang her stuff and make tea. Barnaby takes the opportunity when she has left the room to speak his mind, albeit nervously.
"Uncle Maverick?" Barnaby begins cautiously.
Maverick sighs through his nose and opens his tired eyes. Barnaby takes this to be an acknowledgment.
"I wanted to talk to you about something. About... Kotetsu Kaburagi."
Maverick immediately groans and shakes his head. "Barnaby, Barnaby, Barnaby," he sighs in exasperation, then has to catch his breath again. In that pause, Barnaby springs,
"I know you disapprove, sir, but I just can't help it. Please understand. I don't want to go behind your back, I'd much rather--"
"No, Barnaby..."
"It's just that there's so much I don't understand, sir. It's the same as the need I felt to question Jake back then--" (a lie Barnaby is eager to fool even himself with. The truth is that the sensation is somehow different) "--you must understand that?"
"Barnaby... He'd be no use to you," Maverick grunts, doing his best to sit up on his own, refusing Barnaby's proffered hand. "Just... mad..."
"I know," Barnaby says with a shake of his head. "Or, I should know. But for some reason I'm doubting that. I don't understand why I should doubt such a thing."
Maverick considers him with watered, tired eyes. "Don't want you hurt, Barnaby..."
"I know--"
"I want you to continue with your life, your career... Don't just live in the past, Barnaby." Maverick's voice is thin and rough.
"Please understand, sir--"
"Barnaby... Promise me."
It's too vague-- "But..."
"Promise."
Barnaby sighs and threads his fingers through his hair in a show of frustration. His body feels tight and angry, pulled this way and that by what he wants and what he should do. His tongue swells with all of the arguments he could present, would present if Uncle Maverick was as young and fit as once he was.
"I promise," he says as last, barely more than a whisper.
Maverick settles back into his pillows, satisfied. "You've always been a good boy, Barnaby."
They watch each other for a while, and Barnaby doesn't feel like a good boy. Doesn't feel like the man he is supposed to be. He feels just like the petulant, arrogant little kid who used to hide underneath a veneer of ice. The boy who had no friends, no girls, the boy who didn't know how to love another person.
"Come here, Barnaby," Maverick says, holding out his hand. It shakes with the effort of lifting.
Barnaby considers it. Just let go of your anger, fool, he thinks to himself. Just give in and do as the poor man says. You owe him so much.
Both of them quickly turn their heads to a yelp from the direction of the kitchen.
"Molly must be burning the tea again," Barnaby says, trying to hitch a false layer of fondness over his frustration. "I'll go help her. She can be very accident-prone."
Maverick looks like he will protest, hand still held out, but Barnaby turns his back. It feels like a move halfway to final.
What an ingrate he is! It's an honest thought, but halfway across the living room he feels this small drop roar into a wave: guilt, and a lot of it, and he doesn't know from where. It's almost frightening, like standing in the shallow waters and feeling with your feet, and then all of a sudden your probe sends back the knowledge of some steep drop-off, some great chasm, unexpected and unknowable.
He opens the kitchen door and rushes to put out the small fire on the stove. Molly smiles prettily. "You've saved me, hero!"
(He was four years old. Uncle Maverick took him by the hand and led him through the square to see all the different stalls. He sent a bit of time on the skating rink while Maverick watched. Uncle Maverick bought [Wild Tiger] two matching pins. {Where'd the hat come from?} They took a picture together in front of the tree [while Samantha watched] {the picture develops, it's Samantha}. He turns and tells Uncle Maverick that he will show his parents this.
Rode home. The seats were warm. Fancy car. Snow turned slush under tires. Door slam. He can make it from here.
He went inside the house. So big in his memories. Gunshot. He looks down. Blood splatters leading down the hall, hall paved with concrete. He followed them, creaked open the door to a room on fire. Kotetsu Kaburagi, there, in the middle of the floor [his parents] and there's another Barnaby standing over him [them]. The other Barnaby catches fire [in the flames, it was Kotetsu Kaburagi]. Look down, Samantha smiling serenely. Look up, Jake on fire. [It was his parents dead.]
And fire and fire and when it settles he was on top of Kotetsu Kaburagi, fists flailing. The man cried. His fist came down, and when it met Kotetsu's face it did not stop but kept going down. Barnaby feels the blood {but he was wearing gloves} sees the blood pearl into a bead and fall from his fingers. Kotetsu's blood ran watery, married halfway down his face with tears.
And down went his fist: to the shoulder this time, shattering under his fist as easily as glass. Kotetsu cried out in agony, throat cracking. He didn't yell the whole time; there came a point where he passed out, but Barnaby can't remember at what point.
And down went his fist: shatter. He wanted {stop} to see the man shatter. Shoulder first, and then his elbow, and then his hand, and then the rest of this accursed arm, this arm that kills {when?} Samantha {how?}.
And down went his reasoning, his sensitivities, his human body. Animal and rage swelled up, and savage-- rip. Rip the bones from their place-- a wet sound. And down--
A sound of footsteps. Barnaby looks up. It's Kotetsu. He is smiling. Look down. His hands are around Jake's throat. Look up. Kotetsu is frowning at him. {The man cried.} Look down-- it is Wild Tiger crumpled in his fists.
Look up. Kotetsu is gone. Look down. Wild Tiger is gone. Look all around.
{He is alone.} )
From such a dream one should bolt awake, panting hard, the fear natural to a mind still half-asleep. But Barnaby's eyes slide open slowly, heavy and not yet ready to be awake. He feels no fear but instead a great sadness, and mindlessly he cries. The tears follow the curve of his face and trace his lips, tickle his nose.
It is 4 am, and so he sleeps again, and it begins again. This time he wakes after the part where he opens the door to the living room, and this time he saw many people on fire standing over his parents: Jake, Kriem, Samantha, Lunatic, Barnaby himself, Maverick, Kaburagi, and then back to Maverick again and then Wild Tiger, of all people, and then the person was just that one nameless figure.
He begins to feel ashamed over a cup of coffee and has to take several minutes of deep breathing to hold back the tears threatening him once more. For some reason the particular image of Kaburagi's crying, bleeding, smashed face keeps resurfacing, and he chokes on it as if it were a physical parasite instead of just a mental one.
He sets his mug down hard on the counter and reminds himself that he has already promised Maverick that he would not have anything more to do with Kotetsu Kaburagi.
He thinks for a moment and comes up with this unsatisfactory alternative:
There is always Wild Tiger. Always.
