Disclaimer:I do not own Sky High, its setting, premise, or characters -or related characters named and unnamed. All is the property of Walt Disney Pictures, Buena Vista Pictures, Andrew Gunn, and Mark McCorkie.
Cloudy Internships
Chapter Eleven: Things in Flux
There was a great deal more organization in and around City Hall than there had been earlier in the day when the Commander and Jetstream first arrived.
Josie let Steve down on the sidewalk outside the building, right in front of a group of police and state troopers that were working together to process a small line of angry –and in some cases, beat up- men and women in the prison uniform of Max Pen. Mostly the bright orange of Gen Pop, the general population of the prison. Common criminals, small time thugs, the powerless and mundane criminal element of society. But there were a couple of kaki jumpsuits of Maximum Security. Where they filed the super powered criminals. Supervillains.
Steve studied the faces of the prisoners. It had been ten years since he last saw the man, but he was sure he'd recognize Barron Battle's face if he saw it. Wrinkles might form. Skin might sag. Facial hair might grow. But Barron always had the same eyes. Ever since high school. A rich dark brown. As rich in color and full of life as the woods he came from. The same eyes he passed on to his son. The same eyes as Warren. Steve would recognize Barron, even after not seeing him for ten years.
None of those in custody were Barron Battle. He was still missing. Steve didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Everyone looked up when they noticed the two most famous heroes in the world standing in their midst. Even the group of police bringing in another fugitive, wrapped in vines and wearing Max Sec kaki, they paused in what they were doing to note the heroes' arrival.
The Maximum Security prisoner, on the other hand, did not pause to gape at the heroes in awe. Unsurprisingly, a criminal that had been arrested and incarcerated by heroes did not gaze upon them with worship. Instead, he spat at the Commander. Hocking a thick mucusy loogie at the pair of heroes.
"Hey! Commander!" He taunted. "I almost killed your brat!"
Jetstream stepped forward, concern clear and open on her face. No mother wanted to hear that their child was almost killed by a vindictive supervillain with a grudge against his father.
Hearing the announcement, Lucrezia trotted up to the pair of heroes. "He's fine." She assured the other woman. "They're fine. Your son, and angry fire user, and Flamebir's protégé are working together." She really wished these young new heroes would hurry up and pick names for themselves. She didn't want to keep calling them 'Son of the Commander and Jetstream', 'Angry Fire User', and 'Flamebird's Plant Themed Protégé'. "Was your trip to the prison helpful?"
"Uh…" Steve did not gain as much insight as he hoped to.
Always the more practical of the pair, Josie answered for him. "The Warden is ready to start receiving return prisoners. He's got a makeshift holding pen set up. We can send them back to Max Pen as we catch them."
"That's good to hear." Lucrezia breathed an audible sigh of relief. "We don't have the facilities to hold them here."
"Go ahead and start transporting them back to Max Pen." Commanded the Commander with a nod –as if she needed his command, or even permission, on how to do things in her city. "Jetstream and I will hit the streets and round up the rest of them."
He said 'round up the rest of them' but, really, Steve was only concerned with one of them. The one that couldn't be hurt, couldn't be killed, always swore his revenge. The one who's child had befriended his own child and now that Steve knew they kept in contact, was beginning to doubt the sincerity of that friendship.
Lucrezia nodded, taking his words at face value. "I understand you both have red phones, but a number of the younger heroes helping out are having to rely on radios." She waved to someone not wearing any kind of uniform, a volunteer of some kind. Lucrezia pantomimed a phone and the volunteer nodded. They came running up with a spare radio. Lucrezia handed it to Jetstream. "This is already set for the channel we're using. You can reach deputy-Mayor Kappur with your red phones, just about anyone else, you'll need to raise on the radio."
"Understood." Jetstream clipped the radio to her belt. "Is there anything else?"
"Between all the teams of supers working together, we've managed to re-apprehend almost all of the non-super criminals from the break out." Lucrezia informed him, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face. "The only fugitives left are all supervillains or their henchmen. People with superpowers."
She wasn't warning them to be careful, she was informing them that at this point local law enforcement wouldn't be of much help. Both the Commander and Jetstream nodded their understanding.
Josie floated off her feet, hooked her hands under Steve's arms and lifted them both up into the air.
"Take the radio off my belt." She ordered once they were high enough to no be overheard by the people below. With her hands holding her husband, Josie couldn't do it herself. "Call Will, make sure he's okay."
Steve did grab the radio, but he did not call out from it. "You want me to shout the name Will Stronghold all over an open channel on which countless people might be listening?"
Josie pursed her lips. No. She did not want him to shout their son's secret identity all over an open radio channel. But she also needed to know that her baby and only child was safe. This was way bigger than just one villain having manipulated a bunch of kids to crash their own prom. The city was overrun by villains, most of whom had a grudge against her child's father and had no reservations about punishing said child for his father's actions.
"We need to find our son, Steve." She told him flat out.
"Will will be fine." Steve insisted in an ill-advised 'you're overreacting' voice. "He's got your flight and my strength, he's smarter than me, and he's not alone. You heard the Mayor's aid: Warren and Layla are with him. He'll be fine." A pause. "I need to find Barron."
Steve trusted Warren Peace to guard and support his son against any escaped villain in the city except one. Steve needed to find and take down Barron Battle before he crossed paths with the children and Warren was forced to make a choice between divided loyalties. Will wouldn't fight his best friend and Barron had no reservations about killing.
"You don't even know where he'd go." Josie pointed out.
"Yes we do." Argued Steve. "C'mon, Josie, you saw that cell. All those letters and… picturesfrom Mara Peace. Since Barron hasn't jumped out of the shadows and attacked me yet, we have to assume he's looking for someone else. Who else would he be looking for besides the woman he was married to, who he had a child with, who continued to send him letters and tokens long after he went to prison. Barron will be looking for Mara."
Josie pursed her lips. She chose to skip right over the part where Steve said they were married. No superhero had any business legally marrying a villain. If that were true, then Josie would lose even more respect for the other woman. "He could also be looking for Warren" she said instead "–who's with Will."
"He could be." Steve admitted. If their positions were reversed and he were the one sent to prison for ten years, he would certainly want to see his son just as much as his wife upon an impromptu release.
"All the more reason why we need to find our son first!" She all but snapped at him.
Steve just shook his head. "Listen, Barron is a calculating bastard. He's always been a calculating bastard. He won't just go running off to a boy he hasn't seen in ten years expecting to receive a warm welcome and a father-son villain team-up. He's gotta know that –being raised among heroes- Warren would be conflicted. He's not gonna go to him until he knows what kind of welcome he's going to get. Mara, on the other hand, he does know he'll receive a warm welcome from. He'll go to her first. If for no other reason than she has a better idea of their son's headspace than he does."
Josie scoffed. She did not have a high opinion of Mara Peace. Any woman who could knowingly love a supervillain, even a hero –no, especially a hero- was a stupid woman. But she had to admit, Steve's logic made sense.
Changing their course, arching over the city, heading for Max Adj, Jetstream flew them to the Peace's house.
They landed in the empty driveway. Right next to the kitchen side door. There was a fist-sized hole in the decretive window with spider web fractures emanating from it, the shard of glass that still clung to the gap bowing inward. Clearly, someone had broken into Mara Peace's house. That's didn't explicitly mean it was Barron Battle, but that didn't stop Steve from casting a sideways glance at his wife as if to say, 'I told you so'.
Josie did not say anything in return. Just rolled her eyes as she opened the door. It was unlocked.
Inside, there didn't appear to be any signs of a struggle. The kitchen was clean. The only thing out of place was a steak knife in the sink with a few reddish-brown stains on its tip that looked suspiciously like blood. But it was a steak knife in a kitchen. That didn't explicitly imply anything nefarious either.
The rest of the house seemed similarly untouched by a struggle. The living room with its tacky red couch looked like it could use a good vacuuming, but the furniture was all in place and looked clean. There was a bit of daily-living clutter like a yellow cardigan sweater thrown over a chair, a stack of books on the coffee table, the couch's throw blanket was piled on the cushions instead of folded neatly and arranged over the back of the couch. But these were just evidence of a mess, not of a struggled. If Barron Battle was here, he didn't fight anyone.
Warren's room was similarly neat and clean –actually, it was neater than the living room.
The only room that looked a mess was the master bedroom. Mara Peace's room. The closet hanging open, tangled hangers poking out and bed unmade. Bed unmade with rumpled and messy sheets.
"Well." Josie huffed in disgust, resting her fists on her hips as she pursed her lips with disapproval. "I guess we know what Barron did as soon as he got out."
Steve tried to hide a silent laugh behind his hand. A man locked in prison for ten years, with a super hot and sexy wife waiting for him on the outside… if their positions were reversed, Steve could see himself wanting the same thing upon his release. A release after his release.
Out loud, he said, "Let's not jump to any conclusions. Give Mara the benefit of the doubt. For all we know, the room could always look like this."
"What kind of grown adult doesn't make her bed?" His wife shot back.
Steve shrugged. "Who's Mara got to try and impress?"
Josie gave another huff. Of course. The man jumps to the defense of the attractive woman who –apparently- had no standards when it came to choosing lovers. Crossing her arms over her chest, Josie walked around the room. Pausing at the opposite side of the bed to bend down and pick something up.
She lifted up the kaki jumpsuit of a Maximum Security prisoner from Max Pen. Held it by the shoulders so that Steve could very clearly see the prisoner number. "Obviously, we can't prove what else may or may not have happened here. But Barron was at least taking his clothes off next to Mara's bed." She let the uniform drop from her hands as if it were something disgusting that should not be handled. "But he's clearly not here anymore. Neither is Mara. And, now we know he won't be wearing his prison uniform anymore, so he'll be harder to recognize."
"I can recognize him." Steve assured her.
"Okay, but someone else just walking down the street won't." Josie informed her husband. "They won't know how dangerous he is."
…
Battle bent down to pick a flower. It was just a dandelion, a weed really. But it was a bright yellow and in full bloom. He presented the flower to his wife. "It's not a bouquet of lilies."
Taking the offered flower, Mara gave an amused smile and tucked it in her hair, just behind her ear. "You're such a sentimental softy." She bemoaned. Or rather, tried to bemoan. It was hard to convincingly show discontent when you were smiling like a fool. She hadn't seen the man she loved in a decade and now that she was back she found she couldn't stop smiling. Current circumstances be damned. Mara felt like something that was missing from her had been returned. Clearing her throat, Mara tried to get serious. "But it looks like Warren's not here."
Since Mara had no idea where her son was, only that the Commander had just abandoned him the moment he heard about the prison break, she decided to check all the places he frequented. The Paper Lantern, the public library (the one she didn't work at, Warren was an avid reader but that didn't mean he wanted to visit his mom at work), and the culinary sections of the Maxville University campus.
It was the MU campus they were at now.
"Then we should keep moving." Battle nodded, looking around the quad. He spotted the histories and languages buildings and quickly look down at the ground. "My father used to teach here, ya know."
"You told me." Mara nodded, floating off her feet. "Two classes a week here, three classes a week at Save U."
Hardwin Battle might have been the hero, Paladin, but his day-job was a teaching professor with doctorates in both medieval history and Middle English. His books ancient myths and deities, and superstition and hysteria being attributed to early superpowers were still used as textbooks at Save U today, almost thirty years after his disappearance.
Mara hooked her hands under Battle's arms and lifted her husband back into the air. "We'll check the Paper Lantern next."
"So, Warren works at the Paper Lantern." Battle smirked, determined to focus on anything but memories of his own father. "That's where we had our first date, ya know."
"I remember. I told you I liked Asian food, so you took me there." Mara wasn't a particularly fast flyer, but so high up in the air, she still had to shout to be heard over the wind.
"Hey, you told me I was taking you out on a date." Battle would have shrugged if he weren't being held by the underarms. "You didn't leave much room for negotiation. I still can't believe you just gave me your secret identity, phone number, and home address the first time we met. I totally could have just killed you!"
"I didn't know you were a supervillain then, Barron." She snarled the reminder. "In case you haven't noticed, you don't exactly have the standard-issue supervillain personality."
"Mm." He smiled fondly at a memory. "It was so hot how you burned my face off the next morning after you found out you'd just slept with a villain."
Not a lot of people understood Barron Battle's relationship with Mara Peace.
Mara heaved an affectionate sigh. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too- Dodge!" Battle shouted.
"What-!?"
When Mara didn't immediately take evasive maneuvers with her flying, Battle swung his body in her arms. Flinging himself between his wife and whatever it was he wanted her to dodge.
A projectile hit him in the side. If his body hadn't been in the way, it would have hit Mara in the chest.
"Barron!"
Battle closed a fist around the end of the projectile sticking out of him and pulled. It was long, and when it came out it pulled pulpy bits of flesh as well as blood out with it. There was a small spurt. His heart making one pump before the wound closed again. Battle's body healing itself as if the attack never penetrated.
He looked at it in his hands. Long. Wider at one end, pointed at the other. A slight spiral to it. Dark in color. But with a texture similar to bone. A horn of some kind. From a super that could grow and throw horns. Some super –most likely a villain- had just shot at his wife! And if Battle hadn't thrown himself in the way, Mara would already be dead.
"Drop me." Battle growled at his wife. Nobody threatened the people he loved.
"What?" Mara blinked back. Still more concerned for her husband's well being than who had attacked them.
"I said drop me." Battle repeated. Snarled, actually. "Right now."
Pursing her lips, still unsure, Mara relaxed her grip and let her passenger slip from her hands. Battle plummeted to the ground. Getting his feet under him, Battle braced for impact, making a loud THUMP sound when he hit the ground below. Bending at the knees before tumbling into a summersault to absorb the rest of the momentum. He jumped back to his feet almost on top of a super he'd never seen before.
Wearing the kaki of a Max Sec prisoner, he must have been arrested and sentenced after Battle was confined to solitary. He knew all the guy that had been in with him when he was still allowed to mingle. This guy was new.
Young. Well, everyone looked young to Battle now, he was almost fifty and age was relative. Late-twenties, maybe? Definitely younger than thirty. But with the receding hairline and pattern baldness of a man twice his age. The top of his scalp was smooth and shiny, his hairline starting somewhere around the ears. The hair that he did have was long and sleek. A chestnut brown that shone in the afternoon sun. He had a long face and a flat nose. But the most striking thing about him was the dark spiral horn sticking out of his forehead. A dark spiral horn almost identical to the one that impaled Battle, only smaller.
"And who the fuck are you supposed to be?" Battle demanded.
"You're welcome." Sai the other guy.
"What?" Battle blinked. Did he ask a different question than he thought he asked?
"That was cold blooded how that hero used you as a shield." Commented baldy with the horn. "But you seem alright. Us villains gotta stick together, am I right?"
Battle just raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am?" The other shot back.
Now Battle was getting frustrated on top of protective and angry. "This is not a game of Who-The-Fuck-Are-You? That hero you just shot at, that's my wife!"
Now the criminal looked unsure. He thought he was rescuing a fellow villain. After all, who else besides a supervillain would fly around the city dressed in all black. When he saw someone dressed in all black being carried by a hero, he assumed the hero had just captured him and was taking him to be processed. Not that they were having a Disney style musical montage while flying through the air –'a whole new wo~orld…' He had no idea what kind of romantic things heroes did. He just imagined them all as clean and family-friendly children's protagonists.
"You a hero?" The criminal raised an eyebrow.
"Wow. Okay. First you attack my wife, now you insult me." Battle hated being accused of being a hero. He hefted the horn that shot him in the side in his hand. The blood on it already dry, giving the horn an unsettling ruddy color.
"What do I care what you think?" Shrugged the criminal.
"You should care." Battle informed him. "Because I think I'm gonna stab you with your own fucking horn."
Baldy with the Horn scoffed. "I thought I was doing you a solid. But like hell am I gonna let some hero-fucker beat me!"
The criminal planted his feet, his muscles tensing. His eyes pinching shut with concentration, and Battle watched as that horn on his head grew to the size and length of the one that had impaled Battle. It fell off like a deer molting its antlers and the super caught it in his hands. Opening his eyes again, Baldy threw the horn at Battle as if it were a javelin.
With more range of motion this time than what he was afforded handing in his wife's arms, Battle was able to sidestep the attack, dodging it completely. The horn would have passed by his harmlessly. Expect this guy had pissed him off. He grabbed the projectile in mid-air. One in each hand now, Battle twisted his wrists, swinging them both, besting their weight and balance.
"Man… you're dumber than you look." Battle charged at the criminal.
He planted his feet again, growing another horn to have a weapon to defend himself. The process was too slow to be practical in fast pace of a real fight. If this guy ever attended Sky High, he would have been relegated to the Sidekick track. The horn molted into his waiting hands just as Battle closed the space between them, bringing one of one of the horns he held down on the man's head like swinging a club.
Baldy with a Horn staggered. Dazed.
Pressing his advantage, Battle impaled the criminal through the stomach with the second horn. Baldy's eyes went wide, dropping the horn he held and wrapping both hands around the one sticking out of his stomach.
Mara floated down to land just a step behind Battle. "You- you killed him!"
She did not sound pleased.
"No I didn't." Battle insisted. "It's just a stomach wound. People don't die from stomach wounds."
"Only if they can get fast treatment!" Mara shouted back, hands balling into fists. It was easier to care about random strangers now that her heart had returned to her. The first thing she did, was get mad at her heart.
"Maxville has some of the best hospitals in the world." He reminded her.
"Maxville has just been hit by a cataclysmic earthquake!" She shot back at him. "The hospitals that are even still up and running will be over-full. Ever if I managed to fly this guy to one –and I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm a slow flyer- he'd still die of his wounds while waiting for treatment! You killed him, Barron, but you killed him slowly. He'll suffer. And that's cruel!"
Battle rolled his eyes. He loved Mara. Truly, he did. Her bold, brazenness, and utter lack of modesty. But some times she could be such a fucking hero. They loved each other, but they were not without their disagreements. "Fine."
With the other horn he still held, Battle stabbed the criminal through the eye. Tearing the ophthalmic arteryand impaling the brain. Baldy with a Horn died instantly. Now he wouldn't have to suffer, dying slowly. He was merciful.
Battle looked up at his wife, expecting another lecture on how killing was wrong and how human life had value. That they didn't have the right to execute criminals. They were not judges. He had no right to take a life. Etc. He braced himself for the familiar lecture.
But all Mara did was look away. Expression unreadable behind her Flamebird mask. "We should keep moving." She said. "I want to find my son."
For half a second, Battle felt like he was suffering a sudden case of whiplash. As if he'd just been rear-ended while driving his Beamer. Since when did Mara Peace not care about someone being murdered right in front of her?
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"I'm worried about Warren." She told him.
"I just killed a guy in front of you." Battle pointed to the body, now laying in a pool of blood.
Mara looked away again. Raising into the air again, she scooped her husband back up. "You put him out of his misery. It was merciful."
It was 'good', just not 'moral'. The way she described the vast majority of his jobs over the years.
The way she was holding him, Battle couldn't turn his head far enough to look at her.
Mara had always been extraordinarily gifted at justifying his contracts over seas. Assassinating third world dictators, despots, corrupt politicians, soviet leaders, members of radical militant sects. People that were objectively bad and reaped international harm. Superheroes believed killing was wrong, and Battle killed people –most often for personal profit- that was what made Barron Battle a supervillain. But the deaths –usually- left the country or area better off than it was before Battle committed his assassinations. So, it was easy for Mara to rationalize and justify those killings.
But killing an already defeated man… right in front of her… An escaped criminal sure. But someone who's crimes and motives they didn't know. Who's level of villainy was unclear. Who was still young enough to be rehabilitated, or earn redemption. Who had lost a fight, was in need of medical attention –help. To kill in cold blood right before her eyes. Even if the guy shot at her, Mara wouldn't just brush that off as if she didn't care.
At least, a decade ago she wouldn't have.
"Did- did something happen in the last ten years?" He asked. Even over the roar of the wind, the concern in his voice was deep.
"They took you away from me, Barron." Mara reminded him, as if he needed the reminder. Her own voice low, but even. Smoldering almost. Burning with dark rage and channeled heat. "They took you away from our son. They ripped our family apart, and then went on with their own merry little lives as if it was no big deal. As if they didn't even care. Then, the moment the Commander hears you're out again, he just up and abandons our son and no one even knows where. They don't care, Barron. They don't care about us. They don't care about Warren. They don't care about the harm they do."
Battle was shook. He often commented over the years that Mara Peace was wasted as a hero. That the supervillain community was less because she chose the other side. He never, in a million years, would have believed she would –or could- switch teams and become a supervillain.
But that tone in her voice… that slow burning and smoldering hatred. A quiet but powerful burn… It was the same kind of hatred Battle felt for his father before he killed the old bastard. It was the same kind of hatred that motivated Battle to become the supervillain that he was. It was the voice of one's internal convictions being reduced to ash and replaced by malleable flux waiting to be forged into something new. It was the voice of someone's core beliefs changing.
"Ah- after we find Warren, I wanna have a family meeting." Battle told her.
…
Steve toed the body. The blood was still wet, but beginning to congeal and dry. The criminal had been dead less than an hour.
Josie examined the dark spiral horns that suck out from his body. One in the stomach, the other in the eye. The same type of horns as the one growing out of his head. Killed by his own superpower. A terrifying way for any super to go. "This was Headhorn, one of Winter's villains from before she moved up north." 'Winter' was Isabella Makent, Warren's ex-girlfriend. Unlike her pyrokinetic ex, she actually passed her internship the previous year and put several small-time supers behind bars before deciding to move out of town and put her powers to use elsewhere. "Warren didn't do this."
The fact that Warren was trying to be a hero and heroes didn't kill aside, Headhorn had been killed with weapons. Warren used fire. The body was unburned. A weapon master killed him. Barron Battle was a weapons master.
"You don't actually know it was Barron." Steve informed his wife.
"It's his MO." Josie reminded her husband. "Find a weapon at the scene. Make his kill. Leave the weapon behind." A pause. "And if Flamebird was here, she just let him do it. She let him kill."
"You don't know Mara was here either." The Commander wasn't usually the voice of reason in their relationship. He was usually the one to act on emotion, and Jetstream had to remind him to think rationally and use facts. The fact of this scene were, there were no burn marks anywhere. That meant no fire was used. No evidence of fire, not proof that a fire user was here. Nothing to put Mara Peace at the scene. And since they knew Mara and Barron were traveling together now, there was no reason to assume the killing had been committed by Barron Battle.
"Why are you so quick to defend them all of a sudden?" Jetstream demanded.
She and Mara Peace never really clicked. They were not friends. Mara always found Josie to be an over-achieving know-it-all with a stick up her ass that made her strict, and unadaptable. Josie found Mara to be a brazen and obnoxious woo-girl, who dressed like a harlot, made bad decisions, and –generally- made it harder for other female superheroes to be taken seriously.
Then Barron Battle was arrested and it came to light that he was Mara's lover, that they had a child together! In Josie's mind, Mara Peace became just as much of an irredeemable villain as the man she bedded down with. Self-serving and without morals.
"I'm not defending them." Steve argued. "I'm just pointing out that you're assuming facts not in evidence."
"Don't try to sound smart by using courtroom jargon." Josie snapped. "Remember I was pre-law before you got me pregnant with Will."
That was a whole different argument Steve did not want to get into at the moment. He sucked in a breath between his teeth. When one wasn't sure what the right thing to say was, it was best to just not say anything at all. Steve rocked back on his heels, trying to put his feelings into words that his wife could understand and didn't sound… hollow.
"Look, I…" The Commander paused. He had always been raised that men didn't talk about their feelings. Feelings were for women, sissies, and fags (the Admiral's words, not his). Real men got a beer and vented alone until the feeling went away. Or stamped it down deep where it could fester quietly. "I'm not saying we were wrong to arrest Barron. He was a villain and justice had to be done. But… but I… It traumatized Barron's son. Warren. Not some nameless, faceless kid we'd never meet. Someone we know. Our own son's best friend. We hurt Warren when we put Barron away and I- I just don't want to hurt him again."
Josie raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you don't want to re-apprehend Barron?"
"No." Steve was quick to assure her. "No, Barron always swore his revenge. He's a danger to us and to Will. I will do what needs to be done." That was a promise, not just to his wife, but to himself too. "It's just… things are more complicated than they used to be back when we were younger. There are other things to consider than just 'him or me', and I- I want to be sure."
He wanted to make sure his actions would –overall- result in more good than harm.
For what might have been the first time in his life, Steve Stronghold was considering the long-tern consequences for his actions. Both for himself and the people around him. Almost in his fifties now, but he was evolving. An old dog learning new tricks.
Josie's expression softened. It wasn't so much for Barron and Mara's sake that he kept inserting doubt. It was for his own. His own conscience and his own feelings. That was something she could sympathize with. She loved her husband and wanted him to be happy and healthy. Not guilt-ridden and anxious.
"We'll radio in that they can strike Headhorn off the list of fugitives." She told him. And they wouldn't share any of their guesses as to who murdered him. "Then we'll keep looking for Barron."
…
