I still seek shelter in black streaks

The first time he consciously met Kotetsu's daughter, she was crying so much her face was barely recognizable.

In a strange way, they met equals. They met incapable of seeing each other through the tears that blurred their eyes.

He met her during the worst week of his life.

She met him during what probably was the second worst twenty-four hours of hers.

None of them knew that they would, one day, call the following years the very best of their existence.

Barnaby expected their first encounter to be full of Kotetsu's smile, awkward moments, autographs signed on napkins or teenage diaries and silly stories told about classmates. He imagined joy, exuberance, laughs, smiles. Maybe a tad of discomfort or second-hand embarrassment.

Never would he have thought of guns, fear, blood, mind wiping CEOs or murder robots.

Never would he have thought he'd meet her crying.

And nothing could have prepared him for the sound of her wails, the sight of her tears and the shattering strength of her sorrow. He expected her to be a whirlwind of childhood energy. Instead, she first was a piercing cry. A voice, a sob. Then a striking, heart-breaking realisation; that's her. She is his daughter. Those little hands, those painted-pink nails and tiny fingers getting drenched in blood, gripping his armour, are his child's.

So, the first few seconds, she was nothing but a brownish blur, something his brain refused to understand, because hers wasn't a voice he recognized, because she wasn't Kotetsu. Kotetsu, who had been losing his powers for months and didn't trust Barnaby enough to tell him. Kotetsu, who had been suffering for weeks and weeks, Barnaby none the wiser, too focused on himself that he was to even notice his partner drawing back, getting tired, tired, and slowly pushing him away.

Barnaby had not even tried to question the lies. Even when they became barely believable.

Even when…

When…

But it doesn't matter. Not anymore.

Because Kotetsu is in his arms, gone, because of him. Because Barnaby's just shot him.

So, the first few seconds, the poor, sobbing child is nothing but a cruel reminder, a harsh realisation. She's the dire and direct consequence of his blindness, of his failure as a friend, as a partner. And her cries solidify the horror of what he just did; he took her father from her. Her mother is dead. Her father, dying, maybe already dead, right here, right there, in their arms.

Barnaby orphaned her.

For a moment, it threatens to suffocate him.

But inside his heart, a voice, sounding strangely like Kotetsu's rasping timbre, begins to shout.

No, it hurls, so strongly it nearly hurts, it's not your fault.

It's Maverick's. It's always been Maverick's.

From day one, Maverick's.

It's the strength of the voice, the sheer ire and hate it brings in its wake that make Barnaby raise his head, that give him the will and strength not to surrender himself to the bone-crushing sorrow. This man, this man he loved as a surrogate parent for two decades, this man he begged for help was the ghost he'd been chasing all along. The murderer who took everyone from him. His parents. Samantha.

And now, now…

It's unforgivable. In its cruelty, unfathomable.

So Barnaby stands up, the rage the only thing moving his trembling limbs, and forces his eyes to quit Kotetsu's unmoving form. You've done it once, the voice also whispers. You can do it again. There is a child wailing at his feet, bend over the body of her father, and oh, how Barnaby understands. He knows, maybe better than anyone, who she could become if he were to let Maverick go unpunished.

They met equals is more ways than one.

But, he promises himself, they will differ. He won't let her father's murderer win.

She will grow up strong, satiated. Avenged.

His ankles shake when he takes the first step. The little girl raises her head with the movement, and suddenly stops sobbing. Their eyes meet. Whatever she sees in his at the moment, she stares for a full minute, mouth agape, a sob caught in her breath, suddenly interrupted in her grief.

In a few years, she will tell him, bashfully, seated in a café, hands tinkering with the straw of her cocoa, that she saw death in his eyes this day and thought she was going to lose him, too. 'I thought the world was ending', she will say. And Barnaby will lower his head, strangely ashamed, and think: 'In a way, mine was'.

But Barnaby does not understand it yet.

Because rage and grief consume everything, despair lurks in his lungs and there's nothing he can do to bring Kotetsu back.

The fight goes on. It's a losing battle. Every breath hurts, every inhale of air feels unfair, when Kotetsu's lungs stand empty.

And somewhere in the darkened room, Kaede cries.

Barnaby fights with the sound of her tears echoing inside his helmet, already knowing the noise will join the chorus of his ghosts and haunt his nights. For once, he isn't wrong.

Somehow, miraculously, the horrendous murder robots stop. Saito manages to save the day, the whole city, down to the second.

It's the first miracle of the night.

Barnaby can scarcely believe their luck. The other heroes are completely worn down, in various states of injuries. His own muscles ache so much he can't even stop them from trembling anymore.

They would not have held much longer.

But the miracle continues, and Barnaby nearly chokes on his own breath. Because somehow, somehow, Kotetsu comes back, all smiles and awful retorts, but oh so warm and so alive Barnaby knows the tearful embraces are inescapable.

Kotetsu's gloved hand gripping his back might be the best thing he ever felt. For a full minute, he is pretty sure he died as well and that his fading brain is making him see things. Because Kotetsu did the unthinkable. Did what his parents never could.

He came back.

Kaede starts crying again. But this time, they are tears of joy, relief, and love.

Oh, how Barnaby understands.

Because were it not for Kotetsu's miraculous return, for his well-aimed and so, so well-deserved punch, this little girl might not have seen the morning. And neither would've Barnaby.

It's the second miracle of the night.

So Barnaby cannot really help himself; he lets his eyes wander down, down to the shape of brown and pink that she is through his blurred vision, huddled so close to her father she might as well have fused with the neoplastic of his armour.

If Barnaby were to drop his right hand just an inch, he would hold her, too.

But he cannot. That's not his place. It never will be. She's too precious, too unreachable to hold. He's not allowed such sacred things.

Maverick's just proved it; he's undeserving of family. Maybe there is something rotten, something broken inside him, something that time could never mend, that prevent him from actually building real relationships. It's not a happy thought, but Barnaby can't help it. Everyone he ever loved is either dead, or betrayed him.

Apart from one, his brain supplies.

Apart from one.

One he nearly lost.

Kotetsu against him smells strongly of metal, melted plastic, blood and sweat. It's not an agreeable smell per se, but it's grown so familiar to Barnaby that his eyes prickle again. So he smiles through badly-held tears; at least, even if he's not allowed family, the universe has allowed him something close enough; familiarity. It's allowed him back something he thought he could never have before. Before Kotetsu.

Finally, he breathes.

His life almost shattered twice tonight.

Kaede sobs. Her body shakes against the metallic part of Barnaby's thigh and it's making his entire leg tremble. For a second, he's tempted to hide his face in the crook of Kotetsu's neck, surrender his fight against his own tears and imitate her. To become the child he was never allowed to be. Because Kaede and him are equals, again, in a very strange way. Because on that dreadful evening, they both plunged deep into grief and suddenly met a new, bittersweet sense of euphoria. They shared luck, and fate.

But they differed. Because Barnaby is no longer a child, Kaede no longer an orphan, and Kotetsu came back.

It really is a double miracle.

So Barnaby laughs instead, hidden in the heady smell of burnt plastic, safe against his partner's warm skin, and finds in the tears of this child a new form of solace.

De dono lacrimarum, fidem invenio, the voice of a cantatrice sings in his memory, a strange part of a lyric his young mind probably learnt from his mother's operas, and that he never really understood. Because how could one find faith through gifted tears? How could these saline droplets be anything else than a scorching, abrasive reminder of lost things, shattered chances, missing embraces?

But, he thinks, maybe he could never understand. Not before today.

Because there definitely is something sacred in this little girl's relieved tears. Something that weaves into his heart and heals something he could never reach. Maybe, he thinks, he's holding on to something sacred. Maybe she's a thaumaturge. Maybe Barnaby himself is not so doomed to loneliness. Maybe there is still a future to be written in the ashen-tears of a vengeful son and a prodigal daughter.

Kaede sobs. Kotetsu lives.

Two miracles in one night.

Barnaby might just become a religious man.

It's only after everything, after the departure of the Hero TV crew and their cameras, when the three of them are waiting for the ambulance, with Kotetsu already lying in a makeshift-stretcher, that she raises a hand in front of him. Her face is laden with ashes, blood, and grim tears streaks. None of those things belong on the face of a ten-year-old, but her gaze is sure and fierce. The pink of her jacket has been turned grey by dust and dirt, her jeans are in shambles and there are metal flakes stuck in her braid.

But her eyes… her eyes are tiger brown. She looks so much like her father Barnaby's heart aches. Just like him, he thinks, she's radiant. Even now, after saving the day and all their lives, traumatised, scared out of her skin, there's a spark of determination firmly lodged in her eyes.

A real hero in the making.

"I'm Kaede, by the way!" she chirps, and Barnaby can't prevent his eyebrows from flying up to his forehead. He expected accusations. Or a shaking voice. Not this pure, childlike, innocent… joy. "I'm... well, I'm Wild Tiger's daughter! I'm so pleased to meet you, Mr. Bar- sorry, Mr. Brooks!"

He gulps. I almost took him from you, he nearly says.

"The honour's all mine, Kaede", is what actually comes out.

Finally, she smiles, and the world at least looks normal again.

"And please, call me Barnaby."

Her smile grows so much it brings new tears to her eyes. Barnaby's heart clenches.

A few minutes later, it's the memory of her smile that convinces him to climb up the stair of the ambulance and sit next to Kotetsu in the vehicle and not join the crew of law enforcers that came to get Maverick and put him in a police van.

In a way, it feels like choosing the future over the past.

And Barnaby's had enough of pretending. Enough of charming his way around the cameras. He's done with the lies. Done with the showboating, done with performing himself for others. Done. He wants something new, something else, something true. Something purely him.

And this new chapter, he feels, will begin in the back of an ambulance. He does not know where the exploration will lead him, but he knows one thing. One thing that stayed true from the moment Jake fell off the roof, one thing that buoyed him through the last year and, he hopes, will guide him through the coming weeks.

He's found someone to be true with, to be loyal to. He's found where his heart lies.

And for now, it's laid in the stretcher, making horrible puns at nurses, pretending not to have a second-degree burn to the side.

So, for the first time, nearly bend in half to fit between the medical tools of an ambulance, covered in sweat and blood, exhausted but free, Barnaby isn't where someone put him. He's where he wants to be.

Kaede follows and sits beside him, so young and small in the precarious balance of the bench seat that her legs don't even reach the metal floor, her tiny hand firmly held by her father's. Kotetsu smiles, jokes – something about a rainbow car he doesn't understand and doesn't try to, a shared memory obviously trying to reassure her – and then he looks at his partner.

The smile they share feels different.

It's the first of many.

Barnaby lets out a shaking breath. Kotetsu will be fine. Kaede has long stopped crying.

The ambulance's door closes, the engine starts, and hero and child watch the Justice Tower's front step getting smaller and smaller with each mile from the tiny window.

A page turns.

And finally, the night begets a third and last miracle; Barnaby's life begins.

first published on october 8th, 2022