Midnight

By Death's Apostle

Victoria woke abruptly to the shrill cry of a young girl, followed closely by a young boy's. She jumped out of her bed and hurried blindly out of her room to the one across the hall. Once inside she fumbled for the light switch, finding it, the room was suddenly flooded with light. The sight that met her was one she had become increasingly familiar with since her mother had died.

Her younger brother and sister lay crying in their beds woken from another nightmare. She moved fluidly to the sturdy wooden bunk bed, sanded and hand painted varying shades of green, where the twins slept . As soon as the young boy on the top bunk noticed his sister in the doorway he practically threw himself down the ladder and ran at her, followed closely by his female counterpart. The young woman dropped to her knees to allow the children to attach themselves securely to her neck. For several minutes she simply held them whispering comforting words of reassurance. The silence was broken by the soft shuffling of feet coming from the hallway. Tory turned to look at the tired face of her father.

"Another nightmare?" he asked. His voice was low and rich but rough from sleep. Tory nodded but said nothing.

"Can you get them back to bed yourself?" he sounded tired. Tory nodded again, however this time she spoke softly, her voice gentle.

"Is there anything we can do to stop the nightmares?" her father looked at her understanding the real question. He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking grief stricken, and frail.

"There's no escaping the nightmares in this house." he answered softly, turning away from his children and returning to bed. Tory stayed holding her brother and sister long after the sound of her father's shuffling had faded into the night and the twins whimpers had ceased. Only when she began losing the feeling in her legs did she guide the two back to their beds and kiss them good night. As she turned to go a soft voice stopped her.

"Tory?"

"Yes Jack?" she said turning to look at the boy on the top bunk with the flame colored hair

"I miss mommy." he said, head down. She looked at him a moment.

"I know," she said, "so do I."

"Tory?"

"Yes Michelle?" she said now looking at the bottom bunk and its red haired inhabitant. The little girl looked at her with sad, troubled eyes.

"I miss Daddy too." Tory understood exactly what her sister meant. Ever since their mother had died, two months ago, their father had not been the same. He didn't smile, he didn't laugh, and he all but ignored his five children. He was slowly drowning in his grief; she could see it when she looked at him. There was no doubt that he loved his kids very much, that, they all knew. However, he was simply inconsolable, and she worried that he was nearing the end of his rope.

Trying to think of something to comfort the little girl and get her back to sleep she said the only thing she could think of.

"We all do, but try not to worry. Everything will work itself out soon, you'll see." she smiled softly at the two of them "Don't think on it now, just relax and get some sleep." They both nodded. Tory turned out the light and walked back to her own room with a whispered good night.

Once back under her own covers Tory felt the exhaustion of her body, but her mind wouldn't allow her to sleep. The words she had said to the twins, and the ones she hadn't said, circled her mind. She did believe that everything would work itself out, but for better or worse she certainly didn't know. Almost immediately all of the possible negative scenarios started chasing each other around her brain. They ran together, separated, multiplied, and bled into each other. She looked at the clock; it was only two in the morning. A long night of tossing and turning didn't sound all that appealing so she silently slipped out of bed and changed out of her sweatpants and t-shirt; the nights had been chilled lately. Digging through her drawers she pulled out a pair of black running pants and her black long-sleeved spandex shirt. She stuffed her feet into tennis shoes, tied up her hair and grabbed a black piece of fabric she rapped around her head to hide her face. Make-shift mask complete she opened her window, and looked to the ground two stories below her. She listened a moment for any sound of movement, hearing none she jumped out of the window. However, instead of hitting the ground, her entire body was surrounded in a soft white light. This light, her power, held her above the ground, and with one final glance at the dark house she flew off toward the city.

Once on the top of a building in the center of downtown she searched for anything that looked out of the ordinary. She sat there watching for a good half hour before seeing anything. It wouldn't have seemed so suspicious if the man hadn't just stood there. . .in front of a bank. "Honestly", she thought with a sigh and ever present sarcasm, "it's embarrassing, is what it is.". She watched as a van pulled up and eight other men jumped out. The sudden addition of the men and their ample ammunition caused her a moment's hesitation. She wasn't sure if she could take all of them in her exhausted state. "It doesn't matter." she thought, "There's no turning back now." With a final deep breath she threw herself off the tallest building in the business district, flying in a beeline for the men in the process of robbing the largest bank in the city.

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It was a routine job. We had everything planned out, and it was going perfectly. Get in, get the money, get out. Well, it should have been a routine job. There was no noise, no sound to alert us to her approach, yet all of a sudden she was on us. Her fists flew and her legs swung, like it was some kind of lethal dance. I was the last to get taken down, and I still didn't have time to react. Getting back up, trying to gather my wits, I realized that she had forgotten to take into account our driver. When she turned to me I smirked. She cocked her head in silent confusion for a moment until pain flashed through her eyes when the butt of a gun met the back of her head. Taking the opportunity to repay her for all the sore muscles I would have tomorrow, I gave her a good kick in the stomach. I smirked again as my comrades crowded around for their turn, 'some superhero', I thought . I was just about to give her another boot when I felt something white hot shoot through my body. Every muscle clenched suddenly, and just as suddenly went limp. I don't even remember hitting the ground.

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The young man had been watching her since she had graced the night with her presence. Just seeing her out patrolling again seemed to lift a huge weight off his heart. It had been at least two months since she had been out watching over the city, trading insults with him, fighting bad guys, triumphing over evil, all that good stuff. He had tried to tell himself he wasn't worried; that he didn't miss her, but it had been a waste of time and effort. He knew now that the feeling in his stomach wasn't just that last taco acting up, or maybe that cheese had been bad after all. Seeing her again, if only from afar, made him feel like doing a jig. . . and he didn't jig.

He sighed, supposing it was alright to admit that he cared about her, if only to himself. Losing himself in thought once more he didn't realize she had jumped until he heard the sound of bodies hitting the ground. He looked up in time to see the driver knock her to the ground and one of the robbers get in a pot shot before he had surrounded himself with the electricity that flowed through his body, following his every command, and shot at the men below as fast as lightning. Deciding to forgo actually hitting them for checking on the girl; he simply gave them a shock they wouldn't soon forget and ran to the black clad figure curled up on the ground.

"Flare?" he helped her turn on to her back, "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine." it sounded weak, and very unlike her usual self. He offered her his hand, she took it and he hauled her to her feet. She stumbled slightly, but stayed standing.

"You've gotten sloppy over your vacation." he told her, hoping for their usual banter; he was sorely disappointed.

"Some vacation." she mumbled

"Where have you been!" he asked finally, frustrated. She looked up at him, staring at him through her dark eyelashes.

"Why? Were you worried?" her tone was sarcastic, but he didn't answer, he couldn't, not yet. She looked at him for a moment more before turning from him and walking away.

"So…I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe." she lifted herself from the ground and flew off without turning back. He was right of course, she thought, she had been careless tonight and it had gotten her into trouble. She supposed she should feel grateful to him, she would have been in quite a lot of trouble if he hadn't turned up, but she couldn't feel anything. It had been this way since her mother had died. She just felt so numb, and tonight it had affected her performance. It was also beginning to cause rifts to form between her friends and herself. She was quiet and aloof, far more than normal, and she hardly ever smiled anymore. She also knew they felt hurt that she wouldn't open up to them, but she just couldn't. She wasn't really the talking type anyway, so she held it inside of her. It might not be the best way of dealing with it, but currently she didn't have any other choice.

Her mother's death had brought Tory's older brother and sister home again. Her brother, Calvin, from his fire station where he was a promising young firefighter, and her sister, Marie, from her college in Maine. Both of her older siblings had been devastated at the sudden loss of the mother both cherished so greatly. Their mother had been the glue that had held all of the immensely different siblings together; without her they were struggling, fumbling to find a way to work together. It didn't help her any that with her father in the rut that he was, she was now almost sole guardian of the twins.

She sighed, it wasn't so much that she didn't like it, she thought. Her little brother and sister were frighteningly well behaved most of the time. They listened to her, and did what she told them. They were also incredible smart, Tory figured they got it from their father who was a psychic, and everyone knew psychics were naturally more intelligent. No, it wasn't that she didn't like them, simply that recently, with that increasingly familiar hollow feeling in her stomach, it took all of her energy to keep up her façade for the hyper active two. The façade that said she was fine, that she was dealing with it, but the truth was she wasn't dealing with it. She was pushing it aside, and she knew it, but for the life of her she couldn't bring herself to examine the not so fresh, but now festering wounds. She hadn't even cried since the day of her mother's death.

By this time she had reached her home again and crawled back in through her window. She unwound the black cloth from her face and changed back into her night clothes. She collapsed on her bed, pondering that her late night adventure might not have been such a good idea. She was sure to have bruises on her stomach in the morning, and her head felt like it was going to fall off it hurt so badly. She hoped that what she had told the twins would indeed come to pass, for the better. She missed her father desperately, and she needed his guidance.

Hello, I am Death's Apostle...I'm new.