Chapter 10: In the End

A/N: no joke! I know it's a day after April Fools Day, but this is a nice long chapter—no strings attached. No nasty cliffhangers (I feel like I've been torturing you poor people—sorry), maybe a few plot twists, but lotsa tying up of loose ends.

ALSO…I appreciate all your reviews, but there is a fine line between Constructive Criticism and flat-out bitching like Simon on 'American Idol'. Constructive Criticism means giving me tips about how to improve my writing to make it more enjoyable for everyone. Flat-out bitching does NOT help me, nor does it help anyone else.

I really hate to be a bitch about this, but I need to be heard.

Grammatical errors? Fine, I respect that—no one's perfect. The places in the plot that don't quite make sense? All will be explained, I promise. Bloopers? Again, no one's perfect. But if you criticize the plot points/twists and story itself (i.e. "This story is so angsty I think I might puke")…this story is in the angst section FOR A REASON.

Angst isn't pretty, and neither is drama most of the time. If you're looking for an author who's carefree and happy all the time and lives in a little perfect life of rainbows, elves, fairies and unicorns, I'm not your author. This author lives to write horror, angst, supernatural, and any matter of gothic stuff. My usual fare tends to be less than kid-friendly. Disney is NOT knocking on my door here, people.

And this is fanfiction and I am the author—if I wanna call Hotness a redhead (which he is, by the way, with blond streaks) then he is thus.

That will be all.

Okay I lied.

The threesome is in the next chapter—cross my heart. It will be long-drawn-out, passionate, and caulk-full of all the nastiest little fantasies this girl can think of. (points to head) see? You can see the devil horns holding up that halo. Honest!

This is the BIG CLIMATIC CHAPTER! WOOHOO!

Warnings: violence, ANGST, and DRAMA. (see above genres)

Disclaimer: Still don't own Static Shock. I have a snowball's chance in hell of ever owning it. We all know it's true.


Hawkins Residence, 11:30pm

All the children had been ushered off to sleep, their little bodies swaddled in blankets, cuddling against each other all over the house. Every room was taken, not one comfortable space was spared. Their chests rose and fell with their soft steady breathing, curled up against each other for warmth.

Robert and Serendipity still sat at the kitchen table, facing each other. The seer's posture was rigid and her face averted from the man, her normally calm countenance threatening to shatter. Her hands were clenched in front of her and though she held her head high, it was more an act of desperation to keep her composure.

Robert sighed raggedly and shook his head. "Natasha…I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"No one did—no one does. It is a secret I'd like no one to know…"

"Still," he said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the sleepers. He broached the subject slowly, warily, "Natasha, it's not as if you were…"

"Raped? Robert," her face stared right in his direction. "What we went through makes rape look like a slap in the face. That man—no," she corrected herself. "Miles is not Man. Miles…is pure, unadulterated evil. He is consumed, consumed with a lust to commit the most horrible deeds…the things he did to meta-humans like myself…" she trailed off, shuddering violently, choking back at a sob.

"The things he did…"

Robert's hand reached out to cover hers reassuringly. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, seeing nothing else that would be appropriate short of hugging her. Serendipity's shields around herself lessened, and she took a deep breath, preparing to tell him what she knew.

"I can't remember much about my life before waking up in the labs. I was told…'You are special, Natasha. You can do things normal people can't.' Normal?" she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Normal? You see what they did, right then?" she implored him.

"They made you feel like an outcast from day one. Why couldn't you remember anything before that?"

"Perhaps, as the younger ones say these days, I was 'brainwashed'," she scoffed.

"There's the possibility," he concurred seriously. Serendipity ridiculed, "You believe in such nonsense?"

"Virgil deals with it every day—so yes, I do believe in that 'nonsense'. And whatever they did…"

"Torture, Mr. Hawkins," she said, her voice rising dangerously towards a shriek. "They tortured us! Innocent children, gang members—they died in there. People in Fisher's lab DIED. He killed them!" she shot up, the chair falling backwards from the force of her movements. She clutched the edge of the table with white knuckles. "You'll never know…" her voice sounded haunted, shaky, teetering on the edge of reason.

"Help me to understand," he pleaded, rushing to calm her down. She shook her head slowly, deceptively calm. Robert had seen plenty of cases like hers—trauma victims, all of them. He had known a few Vietnam Veterans, and they continually had flashbacks. Flashbacks like Serendipity's…

She suddenly collapsed, eyes rolling back into her head, her legs giving out, and he caught her before she hit the floor. Her eyes were closed, but her face was pale, her lips parted and he glimpsed the sheen of her teeth. The seer was breathing intensely, thrashing against him, her nails clawing at him. She's regressing, he thought. He heard a few snatches of something from her:

"Let him go…innocent…you bastard. Bastard! No…no, she's too young. No, she's only seven…" tears fell unbidden down her cheeks, sobs raking her chest. Her nails scratched at her own skin. "Unclean…dirty, all of us. Retribution, redemption, revenge! Give us vengeance!" she cried.

She was scaring him now. The way she spoke, and the ferocity in her voice scared him more than anything else right now. He tried shaking her gently, calling her name; she snarled and gnashed her teeth like an animal, releasing a fearsome roar of rage. He stepped back in shock as the lights above him flickered noticeably and finally went out. He heard the children stirring in the other room…then he felt two pairs of strong hands drag him back into the safety of the living room.

He was looking into two faces he recognized from many years ago. "Teresa? What are you…?"

Teresa, formerly Talon, put a finger to the man's lips and sent a look to the dark-haired, goateed man crouching next to her. Both were dressed in sweats and sneakers, and it had looked like both had just been called out of bed. Isaac, formerly Shiv, cracked the door to the kitchen open a crack then drew back sharply, throwing his body against the wall. Robert analyzed him in the dark: Shiv had grown taller, his hair was now black, not purple, and he had the makings of a beard on his jaw. His eyes still held the slight mania of his youth, and though he was in the autumn of his prime, he still presented the figure of a valued fighter. It had also looked like he had been doing pretty well for himself.

Teresa on the other hand seemed to be doing very well for herself. She had grown her hair out, it now fell in auburn waves down her back. Her eyes were still sharp as ever, and just as inquisitive. She sent Shiv a look, and he in turn shook his head vehemently, hissing, "You got a snowball's chance in hell of gettin' me in there."

"I wasn't going to suggest that, genius," she snapped back. "What's she doing?"

He shrugged, but the apprehension was evident in his gaze and posture. "Just sittin' there, starin' at the floor…"

"What in God's name are you doing in my house?" Robert demanded. Teresa placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We got a call from an informant—told us to get here and get back-up."

"Back-up? For what?"

"Whoever it was said they cornered the Destroyer. Didn't catch the caller's name," Shiv answered, catching his breath. Even without his powers, his movements were still knife-like in precision; just like Teresa, whose gaze was just as hawk-like as ever. The dark-haired man continued, running a hand down his tired stubbly face, "He says Sparky's in trouble."

Robert's heart clenched with panic, but managed to ask without being too obvious, "Why do you care about what happens to him anyway?"

"Hey!" Shiv said quickly, glaring at the aging man in the darkness. "I may have a bad history with him, but I owe my goddamn life to that overgrown generator. I wouldn't be living today if it weren't for him. Ask Talon," he pointed at her, the sleeve of his over-large hooded sweatshirt slipping over his now-tattooed knuckle. "If it weren't for Static, I'd still be a bang baby, and maybe dead in the gutter at 25. But lookit me now, pops," he pointed at himself and nodded in affirmation, "I'm still kickin'. And Talon's grateful too, so any call from or for Sparky, and we'll come runnin'. Right, Tess?"

"Teresa," she corrected, sending him a glare through the darkness that he missed. Robert was able to gauge that neither had seen the other since the second bang years ago. "Mr. Hawkins, right? Virgil's dad?"

"You know my son?"

"We're acquainted," she said simply, and Robert briefly wondered if she knew more than she was telling him. Shiv was watching her expectantly, "So what are we gonna do? The dude on the phone said nothin' so far as helping a crazy lady."

"That 'crazy lady'," she bit back on calling him an idiot, "Is 'our ticket to tolerance'. Least that's what he said."

"Who is 'he'?" Robert asked, standing right in front of the closed kitchen door. Teresa didn't answer his question, but warned, "I'd duck if I were you."

"Why?" he didn't have time to even finish his short statement before Shiv bowled into him like a juggernaut, sending both of them to the floor as the kitchen door flew off its hinges and was propelled into the opposite wall, splintering into millions of pieces. The children were wide awake now, the younger ones crying out in surprise. Teresa quickly assuaged their fears and warily looked into the kitchen. Robert and Shiv followed her on hands and knees, peeking around the corner, eyes wide, jaws dropped.

In the middle of the kitchen was a crater of broken linoleum, concrete and the destroyed table. In the middle of the kitchen suspended a huge sphere of light. An unnatural wind had picked up, and was the wind whipped at him, Robert swore he saw something in the middle of that eerie white glowing orb. Natasha!

Teresa gasped and pulled both men backwards. "Shiv, get the kids out of here, there's some things I need to tell Mr. Hawkins. Go, now!" She ordered. Mustering up her courage, and gulping once, she got to her feet and took two steps into the ruined kitchen.

Debris and dust whipped at her and stung her eyes, but she nevertheless kept a straight route towards the sink. Robert wondered what she was doing until he saw what she had concealed in her jacket sleeve. He saw the handle of a screwdriver appear in her cupped hand. Teresa slowly walked past the levitating Serendipity, the seer's hair flying wildly about, eyes glowing a bright white.

Robert could feel the tenseness in the air, and watched with bated breath as Teresa reached the sink area. The former bang baby never took her eyes off the seer, staring her down defiantly. He saw the light eerily illuminate the determined face of the young Hispanic woman, her back straight and shoulders thrown back. Slowly, she inched the hand holding the screwdriver towards the light socket.

He knew what she was planning. Before he could stop her, she reacted in the blink of an eye. She used the screwdriver to pry off the cover plate, grab some wires, then cut them. The sparks flew in her grasp and in a split second, Robert watched helplessly from the doorway was he witnessed the visible electricity travel along the light fixtures until hitting the lamp directly over Serendipity's head.

The sparks hit her, and the seer screamed an agonized, tearful cry. It was like a wounded animal—and her body convulsed before the eerie white light dissipated and Serendipity floated back down to a crouching position inside the crater of what was once Robert's kitchen floor.

She was broken, weeping uncontrollably, and Teresa gingerly stepped around fallen debris, taking off her jacket and placing it around Serendipity's shoulders. "Leave me," the seer pleaded. "See to the children. I'll be fine," she finished as she clutched the jacket closer about her shoulders, shaking. Teresa gave her a hard look, but instead of voicing her own opinion, she only nodded and walked away wordlessly.

Taking Robert by the arm, she led him out the front door and into the deserted street. Her widened eyes looked into the kitchen through the outside window, and worry was etched onto her pretty features. As Shiv started ushering sleepy and startled Neo-Breeders back in the door, Teresa began explaining to him to the best of her knowledge.

"Okay, what was she talking about before she…?" she trailed off and cocked her head in the direction of the house. Robert explained quickly, still shaking from nerves. Teresa listened closely then nodded understandingly when he finished his narrative.

"Yeah, I remember that scandal. Shiv and I were lucky. Hotstreak not so much…"

"Hotstreak?" Robert looked at her closely. "Hotstreak was a part of that?"

"He was one of the test subjects. Fisher must have used some of Red's DNA to create his own Bang gas…" she affirmed.

"Did he succeed?"

Teresa shrugged, and shook her head once. "All of it was destroyed, and the records and instructions for making it too. There will never be another time or place when someone will figure out how to make that stuff again. But Hotstreak," she shook her head sadly, sorrowfully, pitiably. "I don't know what happened to him in there…he said to me before he was arrested and sent away that he was looking for some money at the time so he could afford rent to that crappy apartment of his. He was coming around to all his old buddies, trying to scrounge up some cash…" she reflected, a sad memory in her mind. "Fisher offered him cold cash, up front, and said that he'd be taking part in a case study, but you know Hotstreak…" she rolled her eyes. "He didn't think to read the fine print."

"That always got Francis into trouble," Robert admitted grudgingly. As much as he had disliked him, his mind was still on the conversation with Virgil earlier that night.

Teresa continued, "He took part in that 'study' for about three months, up until Fisher was arrested. Fisher wasn't charged let alone convicted, thanks to his pal Alva," she spat out the name like a curse. "When Hotstreak found out that Fisher wasn't getting his just desserts, it was…he just went wild—crazy, even. It was scary." She crossed her arms and looked severely troubled. "After that, he did a lot of stupid shit that eventually put him in the clink at 18—and it was petty stuff too, no felonies. It all just accumulated after a while…"

"What's interesting," Robert though aloud as the last Neo-Breed walked through his front door, "Is that he willingly worked with scientists while he was in prison, just so he could keep his powers."

"What's so interesting about that?" she asked.

"If he was treated so badly by Fisher because he had powers, wouldn't he want to get rid of them?"

Teresa shrugged, shivering in the cold night without her jacket. She replied offhandedly, "Unless he wanted revenge…"


Warehouse #8, Interior, 11:45 pm

"Boo."

Miles had little time to react before he felt the flames on his back, the force behind the blow propelling him a few feet forward. He clenched his fists and teeth, refusing to scream. Closing his eyes tightly, he bit down hard on his lip so that blood seeped down his chin. Gaining his composure, he turned to face the fiery meta-human and opened his eyes.

Hotstreak took a cautionary step back under the onslaught of Miles' icy, mad glare. Miles' eyes denied any thought or reason, any semblance to humanity left in him.

"Uh, Hotstreak?" Static hissed, catching the mad look. "Yeah, letting me go, that can help."

"Oh, right…" he said, inching over towards the gurney. Hotstreak made sure not to make any sudden movements. His jade eyes caught sight of the knives held in Fisher's grip, trembling with his rage. Shit, he's about to seriously crack!

Throwing caution to the wind, he rushed over and formed a fireball in his hand. "Hold still!" he ordered. Static's body tensed as the heat brushed past him, burning away the restraints. Sitting up quickly, he tried to ignore the weird rush in his head that made him dizzy from sitting up too fast. Hotstreak grabbed his wrists and held them firm, his hot hands clamping down on the leaden bracelets.

"I'm gonna apologize in advance," the pyro-kinetic said. Static felt the lead on his wrists grow hotter and hotter. He yelped, "What the hell are you doing?"

With a mighty roar, Fisher charged. Hotstreak took away his hands from Static's wrists, throwing his arms in front of his face, fire flaring up around his body and Static's.

Thinking quickly, the electric hero back-flipped over the gurney, out of range from Fisher's slashing blades. He used his legs to up-end the gurney into Fisher's path, hitting the killer from the side. Hotstreak helped him up to him feet and instructed him to hold still again, finally getting the lead to completely melt away.

"Try it out. Still have your powers?"

"Hang on." He stood, feet shoulder's width apart, arms by his side, hands balled into fists. Concentrating, he felt the familiar surge of power running through his body. Finally his body erupted into an electric field. Electric charges wrapped themselves around his body, traveling over his clothes. Hotstreak watched the electricity travel all over, struggling to keep his hormones under control. As hot as that is, right now isn't the best time…

As if he could read his mind, Fisher slashed at Hotstreak's exposed back. The fiery bang-baby shrieked in pain as he felt the sting of the blade, then the warmth soaking into his jacket. He tore it off, feeling the cold sweat perspiring on his body. He threw the article away, focusing his attention on the killer.

"What's the matter?" he flame-haired man asked, ignoring his own wound, albeit with much difficultly. "Haven't had enough?"

"You just won't go down," Fisher said with awe. Then he smirked. "I've always liked that about you—you tolerated more than the others."

"Fuck you, Fisher."

This angered him more, and he charged again, Hotstreak dodging the blades to the best of his abilities, then made to throw a fireball.

Static saw them before Hotstreak did and cried out, "Francis, DON'T!"

Too late.

Static only had enough time to pounce on Hotstreak, sending them both to the floor just as the oil drums behind Fisher exploded.


Outside Warehouse #8, Lot D, Dakota City Docks, 11:20 pm

The quartet barely had time to mull over what had just happened before Cold Case pointed at something. "Look! I see an opening!"

"Where?" Ivan asked, straining to follow the boy's finger. Cold Case directed him. "Over there. See the hole in the wall?"

"Can we make it through there?" Ivan asked Gear. The genius mentally calculated—given the amount of time they had, and confirming how long it would take until the roof eventually collapsed and provided that Virgil and Francis were still…

He didn't want to think about that.

"We should be able to get in and out. But we need to work together on this."

"Deal," he said finally. Gear was surprised. Ebon had never been one to conform to authority or even a partnership, and here he was, agreeing to work with his long-time enemy. Brushing this aside, Gear took control. Instructing Cold case, he said, "I need you to freeze up the flames as we enter. Miss…um…"

"Pixie."

"Yeah—can you be able to clear a path?"

"I can try. I'll be able to carry anyone out if need be," she said, her sweet face set with gravity. Gear nodded, glancing at all of them. "Remember, just follow my lead, we get in and out without anyone getting hurt. Here's what everyone needs to do…"


Inside Warehouse #8, 11:21 pm

In the resulting blast, Static felt the scorching flames lick at his face, and was suddenly aware of a burning, searing heat fly across his face. It didn't register until later that what was burning was also hiding his secret. My mask!

He struggled to hide his face, but smoke got into his eyes and he coughed violently. He felt Hotstreak's hand on his back, patting it forcibly.

"Static? Static! Are you…?"

He made the mistake of looking up into his jade eyes. Those green orbs widened, and the redhead's jaw dropped. For a moment, time stood still as both men stared at each other, one unmasked before the other. Francis' voice refused to work, but he still managed to squeak out, "V-Virgil?"

"You!" Fisher screamed, grabbing their attention. "You have meddled for the last time!" the maddened killer ignored the flames reaching up around him, the warehouse going up into flames all around him. The whole place was ablaze, and to the two meta-humans the place reminded them of Hell. And they'd be damned if the figure in front of them wasn't Satan himself.

Hotstreak helped Virgil to straighten up. "You get out of here, I'll handle him."

"Are you crazy? I can't leave you here!"

"Look!" he grabbed virgil forcibly, holding him by the shoulders. "I can handle fire—oyu can't. get out while the roof still holds."

"I'm not leaving you in here!"

"GET OUT NOW!" he yelled. Casting one glance over to Fisher, Hotstreak made one last split-second decision. He leaned down and took Virgil's lips. "Just so you know," the meta-human whispered in the hero's ear, "I love you. Tell Gear I love you both."

"Francis…"

"Goodbye, Static." With that, he shoved him backwards andVirgil felt himself being lifted up off the ground. Momentarily panicking, he didn't realize he was being helped until a sweet voice said, "Need a lift?"

He looked up into the smiling face of Pixie. She hoisted him up so that his arm was around her shoulders, and her one arm around his waist. "Hang on," she ordered. Squinting her eyes shut, Virgil heard a popping sound,closing his owneyes,and when he opened them, he found that he was outside in the parking lot.

"How…?"

She grinned, "One of my powers: teleportation. Comes in handy when you're trying to lift a week's worth of bread from the market, don't you think?"

"What about Hotstreak!" he screamed. She slapped him. Then she looked apologetic.

"Sorry, but you getting hysterical. He'll be fine—Gear, Ivan and Akira are on it."

"But…"

"Please, Static," she pleaded. "Just trust me. Trust us."

Suddenly, a loud noise alerted their attention. The creaking of metal, and a second explosion caused them both to cry out in shock. Virgil's mouth ran dry and he panicked. The roof was collapsing! He darted forward, and Pixie had a hard time holding him back, her wings flapping furiously.

"I'm sorry to do this to you again," she grunted out with exertion, and Virgil felt something hit the back of his knees. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, on all fours.

"What the hell was that for!"

"Hey," she snapped, hands on her hips, "I could've gone for the groin, but I decided to be lenient. Look!" she pointed. Virgil looked up and saw some of the flames dissipating. Pixie wondered aloud, "What the hell is going on?"

"Hotstreak," he said simply, a small smile flitting across his face.


Inside, Warehouse #8, 11:25 pm

Hotstreak grinned with false bravado. "The cavalry's arrived. Huh," he spotted Ivan. "Didn't think I'd see your ugly mug again."

"Back at ya," he shot back.

Cold Case got between them, the temporary voice of reason. "Hey! If you guys are done playing alpha male, we got a situation here!" He had barely finished his statement when he was hit in the back by a heavy iron pole. The boy went down with a yelp, crying out in agony, his back in severe pain.

Miles tossed the iron pipe away from him, pulling a gun out of a back pocket. He clicked off the safety and aimed at Ivan. "You've gotten in the way for the last time! No one is standing in front of my vengeance!"

"Miles," Gear suddenly popped up next to him. "You seriously need to chill out." The genius threw a zap cap, which Fisher dodged expertly, side-stepping, then lunging forward, pulling his favorite knife out, aiming for Gear's abdomen. He was suddenly pulled back when Ivan got his hands on him, yanking him back.

The former meta-human struggled with him, and was shocked to find out the truth of the being he was battling with. He called out to Gear, "He's lost it! I'm fighting a madman's strength here! Ideas?"

"I've got one," Hotstreak said menacingly. Reaching his arms out to the side, he absorbed the nearby fire, then let his hands erupt into flame. "Let me have him."

"We don't have time for this!" Gear yelled, Picking up Cold Case, he motioned to the gaping hole in the warehouse's wall. "We have to get out of here…"

All of them but Fisher looked above when they heard the loud creaking of bending metal. Ivan cursed loudly, "SHIT!"

"The roof!" Hotstreak yelled. He turned to Gear and Ivan, giving both a hard look. "Get out!" I can handle this guy!"

"I've had enough of this shit," Ivan growled, grabbing Hotstreak by the arm, pulling him towards the only exit. "Let's go!"

"Then what about…" his pleas were met by deaf ears. Gear had already airlifted a comatose Cold Case out of the burning edifice, and as Ivan was pulling him along, Hotstreak heard him scream and stumble after Fisher had fired his gun. He's hit!

But Ivan kept going. He was limping, but he started to sprint. A second shot rang out, Ivan felt it graze his right side. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain and the smoke filling his eyes and lungs. Just a few more feet…

His vision started to darken, he attributed it to the smoke, but he was also slowing down. No! I'm not letting this happen!

He felt himself lifted into strong arms, and someone running…Why is Red doing this? he wondered before blacking out.

Hotstreak made it out of the building, jumping over the pile of debris and fallen wall and into the noticeably cooler night. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Fisher following him, and he made another quick decision. He stopped and laid Ivan on the ground, then turned to face his old tormenter.

The pyro-kinetic ran forward, vaulting over the pile of debris, flames flaring up around him. He landed in a crouch in front of the killer, who watching him, the mad murderous light illuminated hellishly by the fire surrounding him. The killer failed to notice what Hotstreak did, however.

The meta-human jumped back and stood slowly, like a demon rising from the deepest circle of Hell. His eyes blazed with an intensity only matched by the flaring warehouse, the green hue of those orbs flaring up like a wildfire. He motioned for Fisher to come at him. The killer charged…

And was cut down with a cry as the steel beam above him collapsed on him. The scream emitted from that man rivaled the agonized screech of an wounded animal, releasing the whimpers of a dying man. He miraculously survived, but his ribcage was crushed, the bones piercing the organs they were intended to protect. He implored the meta-human standing over him as burning debris fell around him, "Please, Francis, help me! It wasn't supposed to end this way! All those people—you have to continue my mission. Against adultery…"

Hotstreak cruelly stepped on the man's outstretched hand. His eyes blazed even more furiously than before. Miles pleaded again, "At least end my misery then…"

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." With that, he turned on his heel and calmly walked away, the ceiling finally collapsing as he stepped out into the open air.

Gear was standing over Ivan, Cold Case lying next to him, Backpack running a full analysis of their condition while Pixie knelt next to them, holding their hands protectively. Virgil was the first to notice Francis walk out of the flames. He was also the only one to notice the look of pain that crossed the fiery meta-human's face as the roof completely fell in, and heard Miles Fisher's last dying cries as the fire inside the building engulfed him.

The screeches rent through the crisp night air, curdling blood, and sickening those still conscious. That was when Francis collapsed on hands and knees with exhaustion, giving into the nausea that plagued him. Virgil was by his side in a heartbeat, throwing his arms around him.

"It's okay, man."

Francis wiped his mouth, his face flushed, yet pale. "Yeah, now it is," he said, accepting the embrace, enjoying the little time he had left with them…


Hawkins Residence, 11:30 pm

Teresa had Shiv move Serendipity to Sharon's old room, the seer lying prone under the clean sheets of the comfy bed. The comforter was pulled up to her shoulders, her chest lightly rising and falling peacefully.

Robert sat at Sharon's old desk, elbows on his knees, watching over her. A knock came to the door and Teresa entered, carrying a mug of coffee. She held it up, a silent offer. Robert accepted it with a courteous and grateful nod, but didn't drink. Both people stared at Serendipity.

"Think she'll be alright?" she murmured. Robert sighed through his nose.

"I think so. She looks like she should waking up any minute…"

"I hope that electricity didn't hit her too bad…"

"She was conscious when she snapped out of it," Shiv said, entering the room. He pointed out the door, "I got the kids to settle down a little. A few are still awake—and hungry. You mind if we raid the fridge?"

"Help yourself. You earned it," Robert said with a knowing smile.

"Sweet!"Shiv murmured as he swept out the door. Robert smiled sardonically. "Does he have family?"

"A girlfriend," Teresa said, rolling her eyes. "How she puts up with him…" she was interrupted when Serendipity sat up suddenly, gasping. Robert rose instinctively, but the seer held up a hand to halt him.

"I'm fine," she smiled, "I'm better than fine. It's over." She faced them, a wide, relieved smile on her tired face. "They have succeeded."


Dakota City Docks, Lot D, 1:54 am

"Hey, bro, how ya feelin'?" Gear sidled up to him after emergency vehicles arrived. Virgil's mask had completely been burned away, only a square millimeter of the original article remained. He was using both his coat and the large icepack he'd been given for the blow to his head as a temporary aid to hide his identity.

"Like hell. You?" he said, his throat sore.

"I've got a few more scars to add to my list, but nothing too nasty. Ivan and Akira were taken to the hospital, Pixie rode in the ambulance with them. From what I hear, they should be fine. The coroner just left with Fisher's body—or at least what's left of it."

"Hotstreak really did a number didn't he?"

"On Fisher?"

Virgil shook his head. "The warehouse."

"Yeah, well that thing was practically a fire hazard waiting to happen anyway. I'd give you the full figures, like how long it should have taken for the place to go up in flames, as well as a time ratio between ignition and total eradication, but I'm guessing your poor head can't take anymore pain."

"Thanks," he said gratefully. "Appreciate it."

"Anytime."

They sat in silence, catatonically watching the paramedics and firemen rush about the scene.

"Rich?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Why did he take us hostage? That's the one thing I still don't understand," Virgil asked, maneuvering the ice pack so it covered more of his eyes. Gear sat next to him on the back of the ambulance, hands on his thighs.

"V, he was delusional and a psychopath—it's not supposed to make sense to people like us. For all intensive purposes, this looks like one of those 'straw that broke the camel's back' stories—all these failures just piled up until he snapped."

"Is that our final answer? Is that all we're going to say?"

"V, Miles is dead, the Neo-Breed is safe from harm thanks to that bill Congress wants to put through, thanks to us; and Fisher's victims have been avenged. As far as we're concerned, this case is over."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Virgil looked across the lot at Hotstreak, who was shaking hands with the Warden of the Dakota Penitentiary, standing by as policemen handcuffed him. Gear's eyes followed Virgil's gaze and the genius sighed dismally. "I know, I don't like it either."

"He risked his life for us—he almost died. And we're thanking him by sending him back?"

"Then again, it is for only a year…" Gear said, a furtive smile tugging at his lips. Virgil recognized the tone in his lover's voice and asked, "What are you planning?"

"You'll see…"


Hawkins Residence, Two days later, 12:23 pm

Robert, Virgil, and Richie sat at the kitchen table, finishing off their lunch. Robert had invited them over, thinking they needed some time to talk things over. Without even knowing it, Robert Hawkins had become a therapist for the two grown men. They had arrived early that morning and had talked all day.

Now they were silent, contemplating what would be appropriate to say next. It was Richie who cleared his throat and said silently, "You know, its only been two days, and I already miss him."

Virgil smirked. "Yeah, he grew on us, didn't he?"

"You mean Francis?" Robert asked. They nodded.

"I thought that because he helped us, he'd get pardoned," Virgil said, "But I know that's a false hope. Our deal was getting him out in a year, and thankfully they awarded him that priveldge."

"Do you know," Robert said after finishing off his drink. "After what happened, they said on the news that Francis has been getting fanmail from Dakota citizens—seems people want to thank him for getting rid of the Destroyer."

"In the end though," Richie said, "No one really 'got rid of him'—Miles died in an accident."

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Virgil reasoned, thoughtfully chewing. "I mean, its not like anyone's going to miss him."

"This is true."

"But look on the bright side boys," Robert said, standing and collecting his dishes. "At least its over. And even greater news—the city council just passed a motion giving the Neo-Breed a place to stay."

"A shelter?" Virgil asked, his interest peaked. "Where's it going to be?"

"Remember that old building next to the community center that they were going to turn into stores?"

Virgil assented. Robert smiled, "They are completely remodeling it—it'll be a home for all of them. Ivan Evans and Natasha Marlowe will be co-managers."

"Good for them," Richie said enthusiastically. "You know, V," he said as he put his dishes in the sink. "You could have told me about them from the beginning."

"But I would have been breaking my word. I swore I wouldn't tell anyone."

Robert patted his son on the back. "Then we should be thankful that you're as honorable as you are, son."

Virgil shrugged as he stood. "Didn't get into the League by being a crook."

"Speaking of the League," Richie said, leaning against the counter. "I got a call from Clark yesterday, you know, after he gave us 'sick leave'?"

"Yeah?"

"He said that because Pixie and Cold Case helped, he and the other originals are considering letting them join up."

"Are you serious?" Virgil asked, elated. "That's great! Was bruce behind it too?"

"Sure was, oddly enough. You know how he is…"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Do I ever…"

The phone rang and Robert answered, then grinning he said, "Teresa! How are you? Yes, we're fine. I have the boys over. What's that? That's great! That's perfect. Of course, not a problem. Thank you. Tell Shiv I said hello. Mm-hmm, good-bye."

"What was that about?" his son asked, a very confused look on his face. Richie just looked concerned. Robert held up his hands.

"Looks like you caught me. Remember when the Kids came over and Serendipity had that breakdown?" he said seriously. They nodded.

"I would have been hurt if Teresa and Shiv hadn't arrived…"

"Are these the same Teresa and Shiv we know?" Richie looked surprised. Robert had left out that particular piece of information when he had told them about his own momentous night

"They certainly are. I decided to have a little discretion as far as they were concerned."

"That's odd," Richie said, "Why would they be here?"

"They said they got a call from a mysterious benefactor, telling them to come here. It was the oddest thing. But I was still grateful for them. They've become fine, up-standing citizens."

"Even Shiv?"

"Especially him."

"Weird," Virgil said, shaking his head. Robert gave him a hard look. "I thought you learned not to think so badly of others."

"I did, but I have a hard time believing Shiv became a good citizen. But, I see your point."

They moved to the living room, and sat next to each other on the couch. For a while, none of them said anything, or even moved. Robert looked over at the boys. He still called them boys, even after all these years. he knew they were men now, but that still didn't stop him. He briefly wondered if Richie's father knew about anything yet—about Richie being a hero on a regular basis, as well as Virgil's boyfriend. He doubted it.

The boys had the most melancholy looks on their faces, their eyes staring out into space. "Is anyone else aware of how silent it got?" Richie asked, deadpan. Virgil smirked.

"No Rich, we're making lots of noise—you've just gone deaf."

Richie punched him playfully. "We really miss him, don't we?"

"Sure do."

"Then again, it is only a year…who knows? Maybe he'll get out early for good behavior."

"Maybe we should visit?"

Robert shook his head. "Not for a while, I think. Give him time to think—that's what all of you need."

"Pops," Virgil said seriously. "You remember telling me about how you and Moms met? When you took one look at her and thought 'this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with'?"

"That's how we feel about Francis," Richie said, with equal sincerity. Robert looked at both of them and smiled.

"Then I wish you boys the best of luck."


There is one more chapter! The big love scene is next!