tw: death of loved ones, allusion to crime


VII: The Night of Infinite Hours, Side A

Leo wonders if he should go out. It's already late at night, about 10:49 PM, and the house lies in relative silence. Relative, because he can still hear faint echoes of tools being used down in what he assumes is the garage.

On the one hand, he has a gauge on his father's whereabouts. If the music of a man at work stops, then he can just hurry back into the room.

On the other hand, his father has the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to things not being right. He can teleport, too. In one second, he can be up there and…

Leo doesn't know. Before today, he used to think that although his father will hurt many, he will never hurt him. He still thinks his father cares about his safety and that he loves him, but now that thought has all turned acrid and defiled. He doesn't know anymore if he'll just get yelled at, get a gentle reproof, or actually get hurt.

He shakes his head. Maybe not the last one. Besides today, his father's never laid a hand on him once. His father did acknowledge that he overdid it. He will probably never do it again.

Finding that good enough, he leaves the room, the shackle on his ankle lying on the floor with the few hairpins he'd found scattered under the rug. He looks out the door – right, left – and then comes to the hallway.

He realizes then that he doesn't really have a destination. Where can he go? He's free and outside. There must be someplace he could go to.

Then again, his father never showed him around the house – at least not yet. He talked about a sewing room downstairs where his uncle used to sleep in. He assumes the kitchen is somewhere downstairs, too.

From the sound of it, the garage is farther away yet still connected to the house.

He cautiously peers over the banister to check for any movement down the stairs. Nothing. He hears a song from the 70's (Motown, he thinks, which has been playing since late afternoon). There's also still the sound of tools being used.

Finding it safe, he crosses quickly and sticks closer to the walls.

In his wandering, he finds a locked room, a closet, the bathroom, and another room he assumes is locked also. Out of curiosity, he tries it.

He startles a little when the knob clicks open.

After checking behind him for company, he sneaks inside. There's a light switch, but he doesn't think it smart to call that much attention to his presence there. Straining his eyes around the dark room, he notices light from the moon shining through the window that the curtain has left exposed.

He carefully closes the door behind him, wincing as it squeaks when leaving it partly ajar. Finding it still safe, he heads over to the window then pulls it open.

"Ugh…" Leo mutters quietly as he does his best not to cough. Dust rains down the floor, and the palpable scent of mildew and mold dominates the air.

Still, the night sheds a different picture of the room. Under the silver glow, Leo sees that he's found a nursery-turned-library. There's a big shelf displaying photographs and a variety of books: cookbooks, story books, fiction. There are even some notebooks wedged in here and there.

Right beside it is a crib, unused for so many years.

Across the room, close to the window is a rocking chair. Sitting right beside it is the smaller shelf, a bunny stuffed toy on top, guarding the storybooks packed within.

It's then he sees a toy flashlight. He takes a chance, and under the light of the night he shakes it then switches it on.

For some reason, it works.

Leo grins, victorious. He doesn't know how long the battery will last so he resumes snooping.

He checks the smaller bookshelf first. He almost chuckles reading the titles: The Lorax by Dr. Seuss; Frog and Toad are Friends; The Biggest House in the World. It's strange to imagine his father as a four year-old, sitting with his grandmother as she rocks the rocking chair, listening to her read a story to him.

He guesses it's because it's discordant, too - like the room. Peace versus war. Innocence versus knowing the world too much. It's still hard to imagine that a quiet and normal life like that existed for his father before all of this.

Intrigued, he draws out The Biggest House in the World. It surprises him to see the name of the author: Leo Lionni. His mother told him that his father wasn't present during his birth, and his father really didn't appear in his life until he was six.

Still, he finds it a little funny that he shares the same name of the author who had some influence on his father's childhood.

He opens the book up, intent to read, when he notices an odd spacing between the floorboards. It's not very noticeable that he's even surprised he caught it. It stands out, though, so much so that it presses on his curiosity until he can't take it anymore.

So, he puts the book away then investigates.

Since the majority of it is stuck underneath, he carefully lifts the spinning shelf then moves it aside. He checks behind him for his dad, finds that the door is still as he's left it, and then proceeds with his plan.

He sticks the nail on his right thumb in the slim space then attempts to lift it. It takes a couple of tries, but thankfully it's loose enough that it eventually comes off.

When it does, he's greeted by insulation foam, still firm but also yellowed with time. He pulls on it, unsatisfied.

It pays off. It comes with a soft tug and reveals a space as wide as a hand span and as deep as a hand span and a half. Tucked cozily within is a black safety box.

However, what wakes him up fully is the emblem on it: two Ms, one teal, one white.

Mighty Med.

"What?" he whispers. The hinges give the softest of squeals when he opens it.

Its contents are underwhelming yet still intriguing. There are folded pieces of paper; a couple of cards that he assumes are credentials; some photographs; and a few pins that glint under the flashlight.

He picks up a card wedged inside a folded paper. The ID has considerably yellowed under the lamination, but the print is still legible. In fact, the picture on it has been left clear enough by time that he can still see how similar he looks to the man on it.

Dr. Hezekiah Castle, the name on it says. Chief Neurologist.

The simpler but unmistakably similar symbol of Mighty Med pops out at him.

Is this really Pops? I thought his name was Harold Jones? Was he a doctor at Mighty Med? Leo wonders. From his father's stories, he'd always gotten the impression that his grandfather worked as a desk clerk in a local office. Never a doctor.

Now he wonders if what his father told him is just something he was made to believe.

Putting the ID back, he picks up a photograph next. It shows the same man, but this time there's a woman with him. He's hugging her from behind, both of them smiling brightly at the person taking the picture as they lean on the hood of a sea green Cadillac.

He turns it over and sees the note: To my darling one – I love you, my love, with all my heart. You'll forever be the 'solstice' of my life.

A frown furrows his brows. Solstice.

Why was that emphasized?

He pockets the picture, sure that his grandparents wouldn't mind him keeping a picture of them as a young couple. He finds another ID in the box—but this one is sturdier, more proud and pronounced.

There isn't a picture, just a name: Doris Snow. NASA. West Area Computers.

The information that rushes in like riptide stuns Leo. He was told that his grandfather was an office worker, his grandmother a housewife who was beloved by many of their neighbors and friends. Now he's finding out they weren't who they seemed? That they were actually, respectively, a respected neurologist and a genius mathematician?

Voracious for more of their life, he leafs through the box for any other interesting finds. He finds a letter from his grandmother to his grandfather a few days after his father was born. He also finds an enamel pin that looked like a ricocheting shooting star.

He glances behind him, finds no one there, and decides he'll look at one more paper before heading back. He picks up one, tucked underneath the pile, and opens it, expecting to find another handwritten memo.

His brows furrow as he sees the typewritten letter, which comes as a shock of crudeness after all the personal documents he's seen. He skims it, expecting nothing.

Then, ice washes over him.

He shuts the letter close.

No. He didn't read that. It kind of makes sense, but…

His brain buzzes. There are questions, puzzle pieces, and answers that fly around like a tornado in his head.

The words stick out: proposal for a special unit; Doris Snow (codename: Solstice); for the benefit of earth.

League of Heroes.

Incredulous, he opens the letter again and reads it closely.

He was right. He read it all correctly. It's a letter of confirmation for potential recruits.

A letter of confirmation drafted by a superhero named Solstice.

Out of panic, he stuffs everything back in and closes the box. No. He can't look at all of this right now. Does his father even know these exist? It's buried under the floorboard, in a place only his grandparents would know to access. And his dad never mentioned any of this.

Did he not mention because he didn't know? Or did he choose not to mention because he deviated from the trajectory of his whole family on purpose, and he didn't want him to know?

He does his best to remain steady, even putting the flashlight down to work faster. However, his grip on the floorboard isn't as strong as he thinks.

It lands with a thunk!

He grimaces, hissing at his clumsiness, and continues his work in the dark. His father can't know he's here, can't know what he knows. He places the board back on the slot successfully then lifts up the smaller, swiveling bookshelf back into its place.

By the time he sits back on the heels of his feet, his heart is beating so loud that it drowns every other sound.

He takes a moment to calm his nerves. Then, he picks up the flashlight, setting the snail storybook on his lap.

"How'd you get out?"

Leo gasps, spinning around. He finds his father standing at the door, light from downstairs flooding past his feet. His chest prickles at the fear. Has he seen him and the box?

Joel flicks the light switch on, and for a minute Leo doubts the anger he thinks he sees on his father's face. Joel looks around the room, and then he smiles. "You found the library."

"I…I-I was just…" But the words don't come out of his mouth.

Joel sighs, the smile on his face unmoving. "If you wanted out of your room, you could have just told me."

"Dad, you chained me to the floor and told me I was a hostage," he points out, now indignant. "Hostages don't get the option of requesting out."

"Come on, Leo. You know your case is different. I would have let you go a bit if you wanted to look around the house."

Leo resists the urge to glare. He doesn't know if it's because of the nerves or because he's tired, but his father irritates him highly now.

"Hey." Joel grins as he comes and sits beside him. "You found Uncle RT's favorite storybook. You know, he used to ask your Nana to read that to him every night. And Nana always did, like it's the first time she's reading it to him. She's so patient. We even had the French version of this. That's why RT is so cocky. He thinks because he can speak French that he's better than me."

Nana. He turns his eyes down to the storybook and pretends to examine it. "Did Nana stay here with you and Uncle RT the whole time?" he ventures to ask.

"Mm-hm. Pops thought it was better for her to just stay with us and watch over us rather than go to work."

"Like a housewife."

"Yeah."

He nods slowly, halfheartedly turning the page. "It would be nice if Mom did that, too. If she stayed home with me."

"Well, she had to take care of you both. She didn't…well, she didn't have me like Nana had Pops."

Leo looks at his father and stares thoughtfully. "If things were different – you know, if people weren't evil, and Pops and Nana lived, and you still met Mom, would you…would you have married her?"

Joel chuckles humorlessly. "I know your mom probably hates my guts for running out on you both, but I knew neither of you would have normal lives with me in it. I've made many enemies; there's no way any of them would leave you alone, or alive. That's why I had to leave."

"You didn't answer my question."

His father looks at him for a long moment. Then, he smiles. "I would have," he says. "If I have to marry her every day just to make up for how I've hurt her, I will. But things are different now, and there's no undoing what's been done."

"Shakespeare would be jealous of this tragedy."

Joel smirks at his son. "I still can't work out how you got out."

"I'd tell you, but I might need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, so…"

Joel laughs.

With the room freer of tension, confidence fills Leo more. Still, he knows to be cautious. He makes a show of looking around the room before commenting, "With how nice this room is, I would have pegged Nana to be an interior designer or a librarian. Or, unless Pops was the one to put everything together."

"No, they worked on it together when they found out they were going to have me."

"Did they…" He hesitates. Will it be too direct? "Did they know you and Uncle RT might have some abilities when you grow up?"

Joel searches his face, eyes lightly narrowing. "Why'd you ask?"

Leo shrugs nonchalantly, hoping his father isn't hearing the klaxon going off in his head. "Because, you know, you were kind of trying to see if I had them, too, when I was still, like, six."

Joel laughs, bringing Leo some relief. "I only did that because I had them when I was young. Genetically, it was possible I passed something to you."

"Well, maybe it won't skip Uncle RT's kids like it did with me."

"Oh, I doubt you'd have any cousins. At least on my side," Joel says, distracted by the opened window now. "That's what absent superheroes took from him: they took away my trust in them forever, they took away his desire to have kids of his own. He's afraid of leaving them suddenly like Nana and Pops left us."

"Nana and Pops weren't superheroes."

"No. They were super basic, and super boring." His father's smile grows as he thinks back on his parents fondly. "But they were my favorite. Now, come on. It's late. You have to get to bed. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Leo gets back to his feet, following his father's lead. "Big day, like…?"

"You'll see," Joel cryptically responds, pulling the curtain back on the window with a smirk.

Leo watches him closely. Suddenly, the same dread he felt when Bree told him Chase was attacked looms in his gut again. It occurs to him then that one of the reasons his father took him there was to use him against the superheroes.

Will tomorrow have something to do with that?

"Leo?"

"Oh! Okay, yeah I'm coming," he says, turning off the lights then closing the door on his way out.

His father eyes the storybook tucked between his arm and his hip. "You're not going to ask me to read that to you, are you?" he jokes.

"I'm 17. I can read storybooks on my own now," Leo returns playfully.

Twenty minutes later, his father is back downstairs at the garage to wrap up. Meanwhile, he sits on the bed, his feet free of any binds this time, and he stares at the book his uncle loved as a child.

However, despite the huge snail on the cover, all he can focus on is the picture of his grandparents that he hid behind the wall of the book.

Solstice. His father doesn't seem to know about her or who she might have been. To Joel Jones, she was nonexistent.

To him, though, her identity is very much alive and sure. She was Mrs. Doris Jones to many in the neighborhood, a housewife who raised her boys while her husband went to work.

But in reality, she was a Mathematician who worked at NASA, who at one point in her life met a neurologist perhaps during her career as a superhero.

And it seems her oldest child is not fully aware that his abilities were something he inherited from her.

All of us are hiding something, he tells his grandparents as they grin at him from the photograph.

Goosebumps creep up his forearms. Secrets.

Now he wonders if their deaths were truly a result of a random act of crime.