Epilogue
A seemingly sedate car pulled off the premises, but no Klokateer approached to inspect it. They merely opened the gates, the habits of their master not something they were in a position to question.
Charles drove. He was tired, but focused easily on the road. He was too much machine, those days, to give into the error of sleep. To aid in his quest, he turned on the radio, and the familiar strains of Neil Young's "Rockin' in the Free World" greeted him on his morning excursion.
Charles tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his new Mercedes handling nicely against the road that grew more pitted as he progressed.
His commute took an hour and a half, but it was worth it. It was always worth it.
The trees and cliff faces gave way to a neat little town. Turning off the highway, Charles took the exit that led down into the heart of the houses and small businesses.
No longer did the inhabitants question the expensive car. To them, Charles was simply a wealthy business man who just needed to get away from it all. And, in all actuality, they were right.
He rolled down his window and waved casually to the old man in the rocking chair outside the antique shop. That man was always there, and Charles had begun to take a liking to the stories he had to tell, when he could spare the time to listen. It cleansed his soul, more often than not.
Dethklok believed he disappeared at these times for important meetings. In a sense, it was a meeting, but not the kind they envisioned. He hated to play them the way he did for such a matter, but it was a necessary evil, as so many things were.
The roads grew shorter and narrower until he slowed the car to a halt, flicking on his left blinker for the one vehicle behind him. Turning into the driveway, Charles killed the engine and got out of the car.
The small colonial townhouse was made more friendly by the family of robins that chirped in the nest they had built inside the bush that flanked the right side of the stairs. With a spring in his step, the CFO skipped the first and third stair and mounted the porch. He felt for his keys in his pocket, slid the proper one into the lock, and pushed open the mahogany colored door.
Slipping inside, Charles was immediately met with the scent of fresh coffee and muffins. His mouth watered- those were some of the little things he looked forward to. He removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, and then slipped his shoes off and set them by the door.
A shaggy white dog barked, and ran out to greet him, yipping and almost skidding out on the foyer rug. Charles chuckled, kneeling down to pet the animal that wagged its tail and looked up at him in bliss.
"Hey, Bentley. How are you this morning?" The dog bowed in response, entire backside wiggling side to side while it waited for Charles to stand.
He padded through the house in his socks, rolling up his sleeves and removing his tie, which he laid on the back of the living room couch. There was no point in stealth- Bentley had made sure of that, besides the fact that his nails clicked on the hardwood and tile floor of the kitchen.
Charles examined the table, and found his target. Scoping out the room's only other occupant, besides the dog, he sidled up to the table and reached for a muffin. However, a deftly wielded spatula smacked into his knuckles before he could complete the snatch, and he winced in surprised.
"No. You have to wait. I'm not finished!" Charles rolled his eyes, and leaned over, kissing the crazed cook.
"Good morning, Zoe."
"Mornin'." She replied, turning back to her frying pans.
Charles sat down at the table, breathing deeply and reminiscing when he caught sight of the tiny scar on Zoe's neck. It peeped out above her t-shirt collar, and he winced inwardly. He knew just how long that scar actually was, how many more there were, and how they had gotten there.
The sun had been his enemy for days after he found out. Neither of them had expected that turn of events, but it opened a familiar door of opportunity for them. While he and Nathan had been blinded to the Dethcopter by the glinting sunlight, Zoe had parachuted free of the craft. She had known it would be a crash landing, but after spotting the bomb at the back of the chopper, it was worth a shot.
She hadn't been visible under the veil of smoke and after the wind had taken her parachute where it willed, which was the far gully on the other side of the complex. Thank god for the breeze- otherwise she would've never made it out from under the fallout.
Zoe had crash landed in a tree and was able to release the parachute harness. She tumbled down into the water and rocks below, breaking her arm and a leg. Unable to swim in such a state, the battered lawyer had helplessly floated downstream until she'd been propelled over a small waterfall. The rocks and rubble from the battle that were below had ripped one of her breasts off entirely, shredded the other, and mangled her flesh from her thigh to her jaw on the left side.
Hours of bleeding and slipping in and out of consciousness passed before a Klokateer who was scouting for any extra bodies to tally had found her. She had looked up at him and demanded he get her to a hospital- not the Mordhaus hospital, a different one. And if he told Charles, he was as good as dead. She was worried she wasn't going to make it through, as shock settled into her system. She didn't need him getting his hopes up, only to have them crushed again. Likewise, she didn't need to spend the rest of eternity pissed off at herself for almost making it.
Charles grimaced at the memory. Three weeks. Three weeks of torture. The soulless agony. The wondrous pity he received from Dethklok and those who had survived the chaos. Their fallen hero. His dead wife. The memorial service had been the worst. He didn't know how he had kept himself from having a breakdown. All he knew was he looked as impassive as usual, which was all he needed to get through the day among the people he dealt with.
And then one day, out of the blue, a text message from a number he thought would never see scroll across his Dethphone's screen again. The person on the other end wanted a meeting outside Mordhaus. Angrily Charles had chastised the person for using that number. He had seethed, until another text had quoted him the inscription on Caitir's forte.
It was really her.
And so Charles' secret life had resumed, in a manner. Zoe was alive. They were married. She couldn't go back to work, they decided. Rawhide had not been found and had not been among the dead, so it was far too dangerous. Thus, Charles hid her. They had built an existence in this small town together, and finally, Charles had it all once again.
And, more than he had ever expected.
Zoe expertly slid the hash browns and eggs onto his plate, and Charles looked up at her pleadingly. She made a face at him while serving herself.
"Yes, now you may have a muffin."
He smirked and grabbed a steaming blueberry pastry off the top of the basket. Zoe seated herself beside Charles and smiled at him, twining her fingers with his.
"How long?" She murmured. Charles was lost for words for but a moment.
"Two days." Zoe mulled this over, sighing. He knew what she was thinking. Their time together was always growing shorter or getting cut off abruptly. Still, she put on a brave face.
"Well, it's good to have you home for a while. Means I can take a break." Charles squirmed in his seat. He knew what that meant, and not all of it was something he looked forward to each time he returned.
He was about to comment when a noise caught his attention from the living room. Zoe huffed, looking from her breakfast to Charles with her best puppy-dog eyes. Wordlessly, he grinned and pushed back his chair, kissing the crown of her head before going to placate the source of the sound.
Charles's face softened the moment he crossed into the living room, the way it always did. He walked over to the wall and looked down, smiling softly. Reaching out, he picked up the cause of the noise.
"Well good morning to you, too, Sarah." Charles cradled the infant in his arms protectively. She made a cooing noise, and he felt his face beam with pride.
Charles never liked children. Or, at least, he had never liked children or understood a parent's affection for their offspring until the day Zoe had gone into labor. Paling after the phone call from the hospital, he excused himself from under Dethklok's curious scrutiny, and drove like a madman all the way there, worried sick.
He had been more than apprehensive. The whole idea of his being a father was downright upsetting. But when he had held her for the first time, and Zoe was tiredly, but broadly lit up from within, something in him had changed.
He hated being away from them both, but he didn't have a choice. Charles loved his family. His entire family. And that included Dethklok, who needed him just as much as Zoe and Sarah. He had to protect and help them all. It was a difficult job, but someone had to do it, and that someone was him.
Charles felt Sarah grab one of his fingers with her tiny hands, and chuckled.
"Are you sure you and Nathan didn't have a fling? She's about as strong as him already." He called out to the kitchen jokingly, receiving the sound of a petulant raspberry in response. Bentley twined in and out of Charles' legs as he crossed to the window, peering out at the retreating bicycle of the paper boy.
"Oh, Sarah." He began, gazing down at the peaceful face of his daughter and then back out at the street. Sighing, part of the weight returned to shoulders, and he held her just a little closer to his chest.
"Nevermind. You'll, ah, find out soon enough."
Fin.