AN: I have been working on this since before Christmas. The inspiration came from an awesome drawing of Wildwing that Alphasushi did over on DeviantArt.
"If I have to hear Feliz Navidad one more time," Nosedive ranted as he dropped a plastic bag by the couch in the rec room.
"Yeah, yeah." Wildwing patted the seat next to him, his eyes never leaving the television screen.
"Dude, seriously. Someone's going to die."
"Uh-huh."
"So…" Nosedive sat down. "What you watching?"
"Something called Ernest Saves Christmas." He smirked at Nosedive. "Sorry, it's on cable or I'd rewind it for you."
"Whateves."
"You know it'll only last for another two weeks. Right?"
"Yeah." Nosedive sighed. "But all the Christmas carols are driving me nuts! I can't go anywhere without hearing Jingle Bells or something about Grandma being run over by reindeer. What the hell was Grandma doing with the reindeer anyway?"
"She made fun of Rudolph's nose?"
Nosedive laughed and shook his head before reaching into the bag and handing Wildwing a bottle of coconut water and retrieving a Sprite for himself.
They settled back and watched Jim Varney portraying his famously bumbling character, Ernest, for several minutes before Phil's voice came from behind them.
"Oh, Wildwing," the manager sang out.
"No!" Wildwing crossed his arms and focused on the screen as intently as he could manage.
"Come on! Bubula! You haven't even heard what I'm going to say."
"I don't have to."
Nosedive leaned his head back to look at Phil upside down. He grinned at the human for a moment before nudging his brother.
"Can't hurt to listen, can it? I mean, he might have something actually not terrible this time."
Wildwing looked at Nosedive in disbelief before seeing the huge grin on his brother's face. A small smile spread across his face as well before he laughed quietly and shook his head.
"Fine. What is it?" Wildwing muted the television so he could hear whatever Phil had to say.
Phil walked around the couch to face them. A large, white bag hung loosely from his fingers.
"You have a public appearance this afternoon."
"Uh, no. No, I don't." He'd checked the calendar in the locker room after practice this morning and he had the afternoon free. If it wasn't on the gigantic calendar near the player lounge, it wasn't official as far as he was concerned.
"Well," Phil drew out the word. "There was a little, teeny mix up. We thought they wanted Wild Wing at first; but, it turns out they want you."
"Sounds to me like you need to call Daphne. If they got it wrong on the paperwork, then they get her."
"But, Wildwing! It's for the children!"
"Last time you tried that one, we almost got blown up."
"He's dying. It's part of the Wish Givers Foundation. Poor little Timmy has cancer. This is his last Christmas ever on the planet—"
"Wish it was my last Christmas on the planet," Nosedive muttered into the soda bottle.
"—And his dying wish is to meet you and Mallory!"
Wildwing stared at his manager, eyes narrowed. That was a sneaky, underhanded move he'd just pulled. How could he possibly say no to that? Sighing, he nodded.
"Fine. What time and where?"
"Here," Phil set the white bag on the floor next to Wildwing. "Put this on and I'll go get Mallory. Meet me outside in half an hour!" He ran off before the goalie could change his mind.
Wildwing stared at the bag like it was about to attack him.
"Uh, bro?" Nosedive leaned forward to look in as well. All he could see was a bunch of red cloth and white faux fur. Reaching in, he pulled out a Santa hat. "Oh, dude. This is going to be good. Where's the camera?"
Wildwing snatched the hat from Nosedive and headed to his room to change.
0000
Mallory stood next to Phil's car in the parking garage. The tight, green outfit she wore complimented her red hair in the perfect Christmas color scheme. She didn't seem too enthused about the red and green striped tights or short skirted dress she had to wear. At least she didn't have the stupid hat he did. Then again, those bells on the pointy toed shoes weren't any better.
"You too, huh?" Mallory rolled her eyes at the clingy, red Santa suit and hat Wildwing had to wear. The brown boots coming up to his mid calf looked more appropriate to a pirate costume than something from the north pole.
"Wilding!" Phil glanced over from locking down the roof of his convertible to shield them from the sun. "Where's the goalie stick?"
"In the trash."
"But that was part of the costume!"
"Phil, we're visiting a kid, not playing a game."
"But, but— Ah. Just get in the car."
Mallory climbed into the back seat and Wildwing took the passenger seat.
"Are you half as uncomfortable as I am?" She asked Wildwing.
"You have no idea." He pulled at the faux-fur trim of the jacket, detesting the thick fabric and the extra heat.
0000
Wildwing's stomach dropped and his heart began racing the moment Phil turned onto the Anaheim Children's Hospital property.
"Uh… Phil?" He swallowed, trying to get more moisture into his mouth. "We're not going in there, are we?"
"Yes, you are." Surprisingly, he almost sounded like he was giving Wildwing an order. "That little boy's dying wish is to meet you and you're going to go in there and hand out all of the toys in my trunk to all the other little kids. And you'll spend time with them too."
"Uh-uh." Wildwing shook his head. "Turn around. I'm not doing this."
"Wildwing?" Mallory leaned forward, her hand resting on the car seat behind him.
"You know what? Just drop Mallory off. You guys can do this and I'll go back. I'll come pick you up."
Phil ignored the white drake next to him and found a parking space not too far from the main entrance.
As soon as the car stopped, Wildwing threw the door open and stepped out. Mallory crawled between the seats and got out on the passenger side while Phil stood on his side of the car for a moment.
"Wildwing?" Mallory tried again. "Is something wrong?"
He shook his head and didn't say anything, eyes focused on the looming building before them. He couldn't go in there. No. Sure, he'd been working with Grin on how to handle something like this, but he wasn't ready for it. Not yet.
"Come on, you two." Phil walked around his car and popped open the trunk. "Little Timmy is waiting to meet you." He grabbed two bags of toys in each hand and gestured for Mallory to do the same.
Wildwing closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Consciously making an effort to relax himself, he unclenched his fists and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Mallory still standing next to him with one eyebrow raised in concern.
"I can do this." Did he say that for her benefit or more to convince himself? "Just, give me a few minutes. Okay?"
"I'm not stupid. I know you have problems with doctors."
He shrugged.
"Take however long you need. Want me to wait for you?"
"Please?"
"I'll be by the front door." She squeezed his shoulder in reassurance before walking off with the sound of bells jingling at each step she took.
Wildwing made his way over to the shade of a palm tree in the parking lot median and sat under it. He wanted to run. Hugging his knees to himself, he tried to stay in one place. He did not want to do this. This was wrong. Phil shouldn't have taken him here without warning him about it. If he'd had time to prepare, maybe— No. That train of thought wasn't helping. He was here, now. He was okay, now.
He took several deep breaths, focusing on the fact that everything right now was fine. He wasn't in pain, he wasn't sick, nobody was after them anymore. Everything was fine.
Another car parked nearby and he tried to avoid eye contact with the adults who walked past him. Maybe they'd leave him alone. They must not have noticed him or knew better than to stop and question the obviously nervous bird dressed in a stupid Santa outfit and sitting under a tree.
His heart eventually stopped racing and the jitteryness in his legs calmed. Time had passed without his realizing it and he didn't know how long it had taken to calm himself. That was the thing about freaking out like this; it took a certain amount of time to get a hold of his nerves but anything longer than that was avoidance. He usually indulged in the avoidance for a while before convincing himself to continue on. Wishing he could stay under the palm tree for the rest of the day, he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the front door of the hospital.
"What took you so long?" Phil demanded.
He held a hand up to stop Phil's tirade.
"I'm willing to try to do this; but, I'm going to need some help from both of you."
"What?" Mallory asked.
"Whatever room we're in, keep the door open. I can't see any doctors or needles." His throat clenched at even saying the word. Clearing it, he forced the words out. The butterflies he'd thought had left returned to their sinister dance in his stomach. Not trusting his reaction if something set him off, he reached down his shirt and retrieved the quick change beacon from where'd he pinned it in place. "Mallory, I need you to hold onto this for me."
"But what if something happens and you need it?"
"I don't want access to weapons if I feel cornered."
She nodded her understanding and held her hand out for the small device. It was clipped to the costume belt where she would have easy access to it if needed.
"Is that all?" Phil seemed put out by his requirements.
Wildwing couldn't really blame him. He'd purposely kept the information about his typanophobia from Phil and had managed, successfully up until now, to avoid any appearances that involved a hospital. Phil had a big mouth and he didn't want news of his phobia to become public knowledge. Tanya only knew out of necessity and he blamed Canard for even telling her. Nosedive, of course knew, and Grin was helping him overcome his phobia. There hadn't been any reason to tell Duke or Mallory and he'd been fine with that.
"No." Wildwing leveled a hard gaze at his manager. "If I say I need to leave or I need to be alone, I mean it. Don't get between me and the door and don't come after me."
"Okay, okay, already. Can we go in now?"
Wildwing nodded. He jumped at the light touch on the back of his shoulder and snapped his head to see who it was. Mallory smiled reassuringly at him and removed her hand. She stayed just behind him, subtly letting him know she had his back and wouldn't allow anyone else to sneak up on him. He nodded his thanks and followed Phil.
The hospital lobby boasted an open layout, full of bright colors and plenty of natural light from massive windows. Cheerful images of butterflies and teddy bears adorned the walls and color coded shapes on the floor led to the different hospital wings— green squares for neurology, orange arrows for cancer, blue stars for orthopedics, and maroon hearts for heart. Phil led them down a long hallway before stopping in front of an elevator.
"We're going to the Family Center on the second floor," he said as he pushed the button. "That's where they do most of the celebrity visits. Timmy's in there with a bunch of other kids."
Wildwing swallowed and nodded.
"Why don't you stay see Timmy first and I'll keep the others at bay for a bit?" Mallory suggested.
Wildwing nodded again instead of speaking. Her idea was sound. If he had to bolt, at least he would have visited with the main reason for his being forced into a medical hell.
Phil guided them through the hospital like he worked there, leading them straight to a glass walled room full of short, round tables filled with giggling children. A Christmas tree laden with handmade ornaments and an overabundance of lights glittered from the far corner. Cheerful, red and white tablecloths covered a built in shelf along the back wall. Assorted foods and drinks rested on the shelf, ready for eager children to dig in for a Christmas treat. Drawings and construction paper decorations were taped to the edges of the windows. But, the biggest surprise in the room was the gigantic, white duck already in there running around a circle of kids who were sitting on the floor and trying to catch one. The little girl, laughing wildly and out of breath, slid into the open space next to a little boy. Wild Wing snapped his fingers as if disappointed he didn't catch her and began walking around the circle, hovering his hand above each child's head while the kids chanted 'Duck' before he moved on to the next kid.
"Oh, look at that! Daffy's here. Wrong Wildwing." Wildwing spun on his heel to leave, only to be pulled back by Mallory catching his elbow. "They don't need me."
"You can do this." Mallory didn't let go of him. "And if anyone messes with you, I'll punch them."
"Please don't." He knew she'd do it, too.
"Then don't let anyone mess with you."
Wildwing stuck his head in the room before following Phil and Mallory. Two women in brightly colored scrubs covered in cartoon characters participated in the games and activities. Their name tags declared them to be nurses. He watched them with narrowed eyes, assessing their threat. The logical part of his mind told him it was perfectly fine to enter the room and he desperately wanted to listen to it; but, the fear slowly began taking over. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his nerves. This wasn't any different from going into battle. If he could face down bloodthirsty lizards, he could enter a room full of children and two nurses.
"Mallory!"
"Wildwing!"
"Ducks!"
Children screaming various greetings and excitement broke away from the games and ran to the door to surround the alien hockey players. Some jumped up and down while a couple shrieked.
"Children!" One of the nurses shouted. "That is entirely inappropriate."
Silence returned as the kids instantly settled down, looking ashamed. A couple walked back to the tables while some stepped aside to allow Wildwing, Mallory, and Phil to fully enter the room. The nurse who was obviously in charge, a severe looking, middle aged woman, began herding the children to the tables and regaining control.
Wild Wing clapped his hands and waddled over to a large, ornately decorated chair next to a Christmas tree. Tapping the top of it, he beckoned the other two ducks over.
"Mother help me," Wildwing muttered. He was not about to sit on that chair and let sick children crawl all over him. No way. Not happening. He shook his head and pointed at Wild Wing and then to the chair while mouthing the word 'You.'
"Hello." One of the nurses, a young brunette in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer scrubs, approached. "I'm Miss Rachel." She smiled and extended a hand. "It's wonderful that you finally decided to stop by."
"Um, sure." He looked at her hand, not wanting to shake it.
Shrugging, she moved to Phil and Mallory, shaking each of their hands in turn. Once proper greetings had been made, she motioned to a young boy reaching for a cookie.
"Timmy is the one in the wheelchair over there. We have cookies and candy if you want some. There should be some vegetable platters and deviled eggs too if you want something a little healthier."
"Deviled eggs?" Mallory made a face. Whatever they had done to those eggs sounded like an abomination.
"Nope." Wildwing stepped away from them and headed over to Timmy.
"Mm-hmm," Miss Rachel nodded. "You've never had them before? I'll go get you one. Dr. Sabro made them."
"That's disgusting." She couldn't help it. "No."
"I'll have some." Phil eyed the table full of goodies, eager to fill his own plate.
"What? They're just eggs mixed with vinegar, sugar, and some spices." Miss Rachel didn't seem to get the point.
"Try laying a few eggs yourself, then see if you want to eat one." Mallory turned her back on the woman and walked over to Wild Wing. "Hey, Daffy."
Wild Wing waved a greeting before putting a hand on Mallory's shoulder and guiding her to one of the tables filled with games and coloring pages. They sat and Wild Wing mimed ridiculous conversation while Mallory pretended not to understand a thing the mascot did.
Phil had told them Timmy was ten but his size made him appear much younger. The cancer had stolen any weight he might have had, leaving the boy looking skeletal and small. A purple and teal Mighty Ducks knit hat covered his bald head. He wore a child's version of Mallory's home jersey over his hospital gown.
"You came!" The little boy's eyes lit up and he practically bounced in his wheelchair. "I can't believe it. You guys actually came."
Wildwing smiled at him and crouched next to the chair, making sure to maneuver himself so he could keep a wary eye out on the rest of the room. Mallory and Wild Wing seemed to be entertaining the rest of the children.
"Hey, Timmy. Merry Christmas." His voice was tense, lacking any of the Christmas cheer he was supposed to be spreading.
Timmy's smile faltered, then he shrugged and smiled bigger.
"What took you guys so long? Miss Rachel said you'd be here forever ago."
"I needed a few minutes." Wildwing cleared his throat and glanced towards the door. "I, uh, I wasn't sure where we were coming."
"Oh." His pulled at the fabric of his jersey.
"What?"
"You don't want to be here, do you?"
Wildwing took a deep breath before looking him in the eye.
"No, I don't." He decided on honesty. "But it's not because I didn't want to meet you."
"I don't want to be here either." Timmy's voice was quiet as he continued playing with the cloth. "But, my mom said I have to. It's not fun being sick."
"No," Wildwing agreed, "It's not. Maybe we can have a little fun anyway. What do you like to do?"
"Watch you guys play!" He leaned forward and motioned to the back of his jersey. "And collect your signatures. Yours is the only one I'm missing."
Wildwing stood and looked over the child's shoulder. Sure enough, the rest of his team had scribbled their names and numbers on the back. Even Wild Wing's signature and #93 was there.
"Well, we'll just have to fix that." He reached for his pocket before remembering the stupid costume Phil had made him wear. Apparently, Santa didn't have a need for pockets. "Um… Hang on. Let me get a marker."
He rooted through a basket of markers on the table and only found washable Crayola markers. That wouldn't work; he needed a permanent marker. Phil usually had them; that was part of his job, after all.
"See, Wildwing?" Phil spoke around a mouthful of cookie.
Crossing his arms, he gave Phil a blank expression and waited until the manager had finished his snack.
"Do you have a marker?"
"What? No. You were supposed to bring them. Remember?" Phil wiped the cookie crumbs from his mouth with a napkin, then wadded it up and tried to toss it into a trash basket. He missed.
"No. You never said anything about bringing markers."
"It was in the bag." Phil walked to where his wadded up napkin lay on the floor to pick it up and put it in the can.
"No, it wasn't." Wildwing sighed and walked away, left hand unconsciously fisted. "Mallory?"
"Yeah?" She looked up from coloring pictures with a group of kids.
"Do you have a marker?"
"Please don't tell me Phil forgot to bring them again." Her hand stilled, the crayon falling aside as her grip loosened.
Wildwing raised an eyebrow and nodded his annoyance.
"Shit. Oops!" She glanced to the kids, one of which giggled and another who looked shocked. "Shoot."
Wild Wing came up behind Wildwing and tapped him on the shoulder.
"What, Daffy?"
The mascot held up four Sharpies. Somehow, that immovable face seemed overly pleased with itself.
"Thank you." Wildwing took one and Mallory took another.
"Where did you even have these?" Mallory checked over the costume, positive there were no pockets or anywhere for Wild Wing to hide things.
The psudo-duck drew pinched fingers across the end of his beak and twisted a pretend lock, refusing to tell.
Wildwing returned to Timmy, holding up the market.
"Where do you want me to sign?"
"Awesome!" Timmy bounced in his chair and leaned forward. "Anywhere there's a space."
"Okay."
He looked over the signatures that had been squeezed in between the large print McMallard and number fifteen before settling on signing inside the curl of the five.
"There. Now you officially have the whole team. Want anything else signed?"
"Hmmm…" Timmy looked around the room, considering his options. "Go sign Miss Rachel."
"Uh," Wildwing grimaced. "I'd rather not."
"Chicken."
"I'll have you know," Wildwing held up one finger to him in all seriousness, "That I'm half chicken."
"Really?"
His seriousness faltered and Wildwing smiled.
"No, not really."
"Why didn't you want to come?"
"Um." The question caught him off guard. Wildwing glanced around and spotted a chair. "Hang on." He again stepped away from the child to pull the chair closer and take a seat. He turned it so he could monitor the rest of the room while still paying attention to Timmy.
"I know it might be hard to believe, but I'm afraid."
"No!" Timmy laughed and made a dismissive motion with his hand. "You're not afraid of anything!" He smiled at Wildwing, obviously thinking the drake had been joking with him.
"I am. I'm so afraid to be in this room right now that I want to run out the door and never come back here." His throat tightened and his stomach churned, as if naming the fear had given it more power. He swallowed. "But I'm here anyway. And I'm okay, and you're okay."
"But, you fight bad guys. And you're a hockey super star! How can you do that if you're afraid?"
Wildwing focused on the sick boy and leaned forward, hands folded.
"Sometimes, you have no choice. No matter how afraid you are, you know that something worse will happen if you don't act. It's almost like one fear negates the other."
"What about being afraid to die?"
Wildwing studied the boy, considering why he would ask something like that. Usually kids asked him stuff about what it was like being a duck or if they could wear his mask or if Nosedive annoyed him.
"There are different kinds of fear. All it takes is turning on a light to make the dark room not so scary. Sometimes, you have to get close to what you're afraid of to learn it won't hurt you. And then there are the fears that you can't do anything about. Death is one of those. I wish I could make it less scary for you; but, I can't."
Timmy shrugged and reached for another cookie. He grabbed two off the platter and offered one to Wildwing.
"No, thanks." Wildwing held up a hand in refusal. Other than the fact that anxiety had turned his stomach sour, he didn't know what ingredients had been used to make the cookies. Chances were, eggs were included. "You can have mine."
"Cool." He smiled wide and kept both cookies to himself. "Have you ever known somebody who died?"
Wildwing nodded, his eyes unfocusing as he remembered all the friends and family he had lost.
"Any kids?"
Again, he nodded.
"What about their families?"
"Hm?" There was no way Timmy could know about what had happened back on Anaska. They'd been careful to keep that information to themselves and out of the media, despite Phil's big mouth.
"How did their families act, after? Did they forget the kids?"
"No," Wildwing assured, reaching forward and putting a hand on Timmy's shoulder. "When you loose someone that close to you, you never forget them. It can be really hard to talk about and you're sad for a very long time. But, as long as you remember them and the good times you had together, things will start to get better."
"I'm afraid my parents are going to forget me."
"I promise you, they won't." He squeezed the kid's shoulder. "Want a hug?"
Timmy nodded and Wildwing wrapped his arms around the boy, resting his chin on his head.
Timmy hugged him back, hands gripping the fabric on the back of the duck's shirt. After a moment, he pulled back from the embrace. Looking down, he saw where one of the cookies had fallen to the floor.
"Here, I'll get you another one," Wildwing promised. He picked up the dirty cookie and threw it across the room into the trash can. Taking a napkin, he picked up a fresh cookie. "So, what are you going to do with that jersey now that all of us have signed it? Frame it and hang it in your room?"
"Well," he drew out the word. "I was thinking about being buried in it when I do die. But, then I decided it'd be better if they sold it. They try not to let me hear, but I know they're worried about how much paying for everything is. Maybe selling the jersey can help pay for the hospital."
"Wow." He hadn't thought a kid should be so worried about things parents paying the bills. "I'm impressed you'd look out for your family like that. That's very mature of you."
Timmy's thing face stretched into a huge smile.
Wildwing's attention darted to approaching movement. He relaxed when he saw it was Mallory.
"Hey," Mallory knelt down to be on Timmy's eye level. "This big lug here boring you?"
"No way," Timmy scoffed. "He's really cool, even if he is afraid to be here."
Mallory looked at Wildwing with a raised eyebrow.
He shrugged dismissively and looked past her to the door again.
"Phil wants you to sit on that chair over there and hand out presents," Mallory told Wildwing.
"In case he didn't notice," he pulled his attention back to Mallory, "I'm not fat and I don't have a beard. No."
"How about you give me a chance to visit with the guest of honor here and you go play with the kids for a bit?"
"Someone started annoying you. Didn't they?" He knew Mallory didn't have much patience with kids and it probably hadn't been the best idea to leave her alone with them for so long. "Thanks for keeping the goal clear."
"Sure. But I think he really wants to talk to me. I mean, look at him!" Mallory motioned towards Timmy. "He's wearing my jersey, not yours. He obviously likes me more."
"No!" Timmy spoke up. "This was the only one in my size. I wanted Grin's."
"I'd better go visit with some of the other kids for a while too, Timmy." Wildwing stood. "Thanks for talking with me. We can talk more later, if you'd like."
"Yeah!" Timmy looked at Mallory with a huge smile. "Can I have a piece of cake?"
Wildwing shook his head in amusement as he joined in with the rest of the party. He hadn't expected to have such a challenging conversation with a ten year old. Then again, facing death changed a person, even one as young as that.
0000
Wildwing had managed to convince Wild Wing to play Santa and sit in the chair as children swarmed around, excited to see what sort of Mighty Duck's gifts they would be receiving. Unfortunately, halfway through, Wild Wing had motioned that it was time for him to take a break. And that left the two real ducks to handle the children.
Phil handed Wildwing another package, which was then passed along to another child.
"You doing okay?" Mallory stood from signing the hat a little boy had opened in his package.
Wildwing shook his head no. He'd been in here too long and was beginning to feel trapped.
"How much longer?" He hated how strained he sounded. It was obvious to the children that he didn't want to be there and they had begun gravitating towards Mallory.
"Then go take a break!" She nodded towards the door.
Wildwing glanced to Phil, who was sitting at a table and helping a patient glue pieces of straw to a picture. He shook his head again.
"No. I'll—"
"Take a break." This time, she put a hand on the back of his shoulder and pushed him towards the door.
"What about Phil?"
"I'll handle him. Go."
"Thank you." He hadn't realized just how tight his chest had become until the thought of escape released some of the pressure surrounding his heart. Every step towards the door lifted a little more of the weight and he had to stop himself from running once out in the hallway and a doorway leading to an outside patio became visible.
Walking faster than normal, but not quite a jog, he focused on that bright beacon. The moment he stepped outside into the sunlight, his shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath. Making his way to a shaded bench along the southern portion of the patio garden, he removed the suit jacket and set it on a wooden bench. A light breeze ruffled the now exposed feathers on his bare arms. He took a seat and leaned forward, head resting in hands.
Grin had taught him how to bring himself into the present moment and to help control the fear. He began using those lessons, focusing on the feel of the speckled sunlight filtering through the trees and shining on the black tank top he wore. Counting his breaths helped too.
"Um, Wildwing?"
He shot straight up, hands fisting at the unexpected intrusion. Daphne stood before him with a concerned look on her face.
Breathing out his stress, he unclenched his hands and sat again.
"What?" His tone may have been shorter than what he normally used around her, but he wasn't in the mood for company.
"I saw you practically running from the play room and thought a kid might have escaped. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine." He leaned back on the bench and tried to adopt a relaxed posture.
"Mind if I sit with you?"
"Whatever." He looked away from her, eyes focused on the teddy bear statue in the center of the patio. His left knee bounced up and down and he cracked the knuckle of each finger in turn with his thumb.
Daphne folded her legs and sat right where she was instead of taking the open space on the bench next to him. She remained quiet and sat still.
Wildwing watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting to see if she would do anything. At least she wasn't asking why he was out here. He was content to sit in silence.
The blond woman stretched her legs out and leaned back on her arms, feet crossed at the ankles. Eyes closed, she turned her face up to the sun and smiled at the warmth.
Realizing she wasn't going to demand his attention or insist on talking, he began to relax. What she was doing actually wasn't too far off from how Nosedive would act whenever his little brother felt he shouldn't be left alone.
They sat in comfortable silence for some time.
"Well," his leg stilled and he leaned forward. "I guess I should go back in there."
"Why?" She didn't open her eyes. "It's nice out here."
"Because I've got a few more gifts to hand out."
"Are you ready to go back in?"
He shrugged, then made a noncommittal noise when he realized she couldn't see it.
"Mallory can handle it." Daphne lay all the way down, one arm covering her eyes. "There's no rush."
"Hah," he scoffed, staring at his folded hands. "You sound like Grin."
"Thank God. I'd hate it if I sounded like Duke." One side of her mouth twisted up in a smirk. "Hey," she mangled Duke's accent around suppressed laughter, "I think we should be going back in there now. Ya know? Buncha sick kids needing the Christmas spirit and all."
Wildwing burst out laughing, surprising himself. Smiling, he stood and took the three steps to stand above her.
"I'm going back inside. You coming?"
She lifted her arm from her eyes and looked at him from the shade of her elbow. Her nose wrinkled as she pursed her lips and deeply considered the question.
Wildwing leaned down slightly, offering her a hand up.
"Okay!" Grabbing hold of his hand, she let him help pull her up. "I was going to get sunburned anyway."
He held the door for her and they returned to the task of the day— making sick and injured children smile and lightening their holiday season.