Part IV: Streamline

Chapter: Epilogue

On a cold and crisp January morning they laid Margot's ashes in the grave.

The only ones present were Myers, holding the cardboard box in his arms, Kat and Hellboy, Sean and Amy and Margot's parents.

The graveyard was small and simple, just rows of plain stones marking people's births and deaths, all in between diminished into the carvings on the stone. The grass under their feet was withered and dead, the sky high above them breathtakingly blue, without a cloud in sight. The sun was shining, but it was still cold enough to make Myers breath vaporize, not that he really noticed.

He had felt frozen for the past eight months anyways.

There was no ceremony. Margot had been born and raised catholic, but she hadn't practiced the religion in decades, so it didn't really feel fitting. Myers simply laid the box in the not so deep grave, the twins added a few flowers, and then it was done. In silence they watched as the dirt was shoveled back to hole in the ground, making it all so painfully final.

The wind blew right through Myers' body. He felt it in his bones, chilling him to the core.

He wanted nothing more than to be the one in that grave, the one in ashes, in that box under flowers and dirt and gravel.

But he wasn't. His heart was still beating, no matter how much it hurt. He was still breathing. It was now eight months since Margot's death, and Myers new he wasn't going to join her. Not yet. Not for a long time to come.

The grave was soon covered, now only the plain, grey stone and a piece of turned soil marking the spot where Myers had placed the small cardboard box.

He wondered, how was it possible to bury his own heart, and still feel it beating in his chest? How was it possible to feel dead and so painfully alive at the same time? The wind blowing through him had dried his eyes, frozen his soul, but goddamn it, he was still alive, and so were all he held dear - all except for Margot.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned to look. Kat's eyes were deep and dark and serious, and her grip on his shoulder sent warmth through his shivering form.

"Let's go." she said. "It's done."

"You go ahead." Myers replied. "I'll meet you back at the house."

Kat gave him a dubious look.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Kat, really. You don't have to worry about me all the time. It's fine. I just… I just need a moment."

A short silence, and then she gave a sharp nod.

"Sure. I'll see you soon, kid."

It never ceased to feel weird, that a woman who still looked like she was in her twenties, called him kid - but that's how it had always been between them. And Myers was grateful. He knew he was blessed to have friends like Kat - friends who had walked through fire with him.

"Dad. You mind if I stay too?"

Talking about being blessed. Myers turned to face his son, who stood by the grave, holding Amy's hand.

"You don't have to ask. Of course you can stay."

"It's just… I wanted to talk to you."

For the first time in eight months Sean was looking him in the eye.

"Amy, will you go with Kat and the rest?" Myers asked. "To see that everything's ready at home."

"Sure, Dad."

She tipotoed to give a hug to his brother, who was at least a head taller than she was, and wiped a few tears from his cheek. It seems that they had all been crying, all except for Myers. He had cried enough, these past eight months. Now the wind had frozen his core and he felt strangely numb. As if it wasn't really him, who was standing here by the grave of his wife. As if he was watching a movie, or a memory of life lived long ago.

This day - the funeral, the memorial service, all of it - they were not for him. He had already had his closure two months ago, at the seance around his kitchen table. This day, it was for the rest of them.

Myers watched as they all walked away from him, all but Sean.

Kat and Red were holding hands, Dr Heinemann supporting Martha who was crying. It hurt to see their pain, a shadow of the one he carried within his own soul. He knew their sorrow was on his conscious, no matter what they said, no matter how many times everyone told him this wasn't his fault.

But that was just one more thing Myers would have to learn to live with.

When they were finally alone, Myers turned his gaze to Sean.

The wind was in Sean's hair, blowing it around his pale face, those red, unruly curls. He looked so young, younger than his 22 years, his limbs long and slender, his black jeans and the jacket just a bit baggy on him. And suddenly these past decades disappeared and Myers was back at the years the twins had been small. There he was in front of him, that boy, who Myers had taught to ride a bike, who had laughed and screamed out of joy when he'd finally learnt to do it without help. The boy who had begged for Myers to read the same damn story a dozen times, every night, until Myers had been ready to burn that book. The boy who had climbed on a tree on their back yard, after his sister, and fallen down breaking his arm. The boy, who had taken Myers' hand when walking to school, the first day of the first grade, all scared and nervous, and Myers had been so proud of him that it had been hard not to cry. There, in front of him, was the boy who had suffered the pain of losing his mother, and his father hadn't been there for him.

The last thought still felt like a wrecking ball in Myers' heart.

"Sean, you are right to be angry with me. I know this is my fault, and that I can never make it right—"

"For once, would you just shut up, Dad?"

Myers made a small sound, half a laugh.

"Sure. Was there something you wanted to say, Sean?"

"That I am still mad at you. Fucking mad. You've been a lousy father. But I don't want us to fight anymore."

Myers bent his head. The wind in his hair was cold, it moved in the dead grass on his feet.

"I don't want us to fight either. You and Amy are all I have."

"I know."

"And I am sorry."

"Yeah, I know that too."

They were both silent for a long while, but for the first time in eight months it was a good silence between them. Or if not good, at least something they could live with.

"I know I haven't been there for you. Not like I should have." Myers finally said. "And yeah, I've been a lousy father for these past eight months. You're right about that. But I promise-"

"You don't need to promise a thing. I get it. I wanted to leave too. Would have, if it wasn't for Amy."

"I didn't leave just because I needed to get away. I left to find the Goddess and to kill her. To avenge your mother's death. You know that, right?"

"It didn't work out though, did it?" Sean asked. "It would have turned out just the same had you stayed here."

"Not necessarily. I did need Alice Monaghan and Daimio to help with the job, and I don't know if I had-"

"The job." Sean said, as if it was a dirty word, and to him it probably was. "Still can't believe you call it 'a job', just like it was any other case."

Myers turned his gaze to the tomb stone. Margérie Duval Myers, it said. August 26th 1979 - April 15th 2027. A mother, wife, and friend. With aching clarity Myers remembered the first time he had seen her at the Brussels Airport, hair hair flying around her face, wearing her gloves and jeans and a T-shirt, so very excited about the gig they were about to do.

"For her, it was always about the job." he finally said. "That's the way we both were, I guess. And I am sorry, I know it's been hard on you."

Myers met Sean's gaze, his piercing, green eyes on his pale face.

"And I guess me and Amy are different. Does that bother you?"

"Not in the slightest. I never wanted either one of you to end up agents. God knows there are enough of those in the Myers family as it is."

"Hah, yeah." Sean made a small laugh. "I guess so."

"You know that I'm proud of you?" Myers asked. "Of everything you do, and you are. Of the way you take care of your sister. I've always been proud of you, Sean."

"We take care of each other." Sean shrugged. "It's just the way it is."

"Just like when you were kids."

"Yeah. I guess that's not gonna change."

Myers stuffed his hands in his pockets, turned his eyes back at the headstone, the simple poem that was carved under Margot's name.

Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.

I have sent up my gladness on wings, to be lost in the blue of the sky.

To the blue of the sky he let his sorrow fly, with all the heaviness of his heart. For a single moment world was cool and clear, the air crisp to breath.

"I won't leave again." he said, turning back to Sean. "I can promise that much."

"Good." Sean replied. "I don't want you to."

Those simple words were all that Myers needed to hear. That he was still needed. That there was still something to live for.

It's easy to find something to die for. Margot had said, and yeah that was true. It was a lot harder to find reasons to live - but just looking at Sean, his serious face, the traces of tears on his cheeks, the nose that was reddened by the chilly east wind - Myers knew.

He would fight like Hell, every day, to survive. To be the dad his kids needed for him to be.

"Come on, son. Let's go." he said. "We have a party to catch."

And a party it was indeed, just as Margot had wanted.

There was loud music, and there was tequila and no one was wearing typical funeral clothes, but all bright colors, dresses and leis around their necks. Yes, it might have been a party where everyone burst in tears once in a while, but still they all tried their very best to have fun.

Someone had brought a huge, inflatable flamingo (Myers blamed Brexia) which looked ridiculous in the middle of the living room. There were balloons and piñatas, a huge cold cases of beer, there was champagne on the fridge, there was pizza and pie and cheesecake - and a real chocolate fountain on the kitchen table (something Kat had insisted on).

Myers really didn't feel like partying, but what the Hell. What Margot had wanted, Margot had got - It had always been so, and who was Myers to deny her last wish? So he did his best, drinking so much beer he couldn't feel his face, staying out of everyone's way not to be swept too deep into a conversation that could have triggered him to cry.

But man, there were a lot of people to avoid.

All the BPRD staff was there, including Abe and princess Nuala (whom he'd married a couple of years back), Clay and Brexia and so many others. Kat and HB, of course - drinking beer until Kat was crying and laughing and telling rude jokes about Margot, of the times they had both been young and single. That was something Myers both wanted to hear, and didn't and found himself wandering away from Kat. He noticed Jack in the corner, passionately making out with Jay - apparently they were back together, again. Myers didn't even want to know how that thing would work out, but still he was happy for them. Sue-Ellen had flown down, all the way from Boston, bless her heart - without Ronald, who had died of cancer three years earlier.

"I never wanted for you to go through this too." she said to Myers, pulling him into a hug, that made Myers feel like he was a kid again.

Amanda, Andu and Jacob were in the party as well, of course, and Myers noticed Maggie (now Goddess-free for two months), who had stolen a couple of beers and was smuggling them to the back yard with Jacob - but he was not about to do a thing about that. Sean and Amy and Eru were already sitting on the back porch, and Myers trusted they were adult enough to look after Maggie - or at least after Jake.

Margot's parents had left early - claiming they were too old for this kind of thing, even if they appreciated the trouble Myers had gone through organising the party. Andu had graciously teleported them back to Hamburg after they had both hugged Myers, their eyes still full of tears and sorrow - and a promise that Myers and the kids would soon visit them.

And Myers wanted to do that. He really did. The thought of entering the house in Hamburg, the kitchen where he'd kissed Margot at the Christmas Eve so many years ago, didn't make him want to die anymore. He knew there would be memories, but there were memories everywhere. Memories of their life together, that had all went so painfully fast. It felt like it had been only yesterday, that he had first laid his eyes on her, his hands on her skin, let her invade his heart - and now - not more than a heartbeat later, he was an old man - salt and pepper in his once dark hair, more salt every year, and all that had went between him and Margot was now like a film of images, that rushed through his mind fast forward.

Watching his friends and family, the people who had made him who he was today, Myers felt a strange kind of ache in his soul.

He wondered, if this was the way of all life. That you lived and you loved, and made friends and made mistakes, and then you died and when it was all over, it felt like it had all happened in a blink of an eye.

But his 'blink of an eye' wasn't over yet.

He brought the bottle to his lips, and drank. The taste of 'Belgian Blonde' was fresh and sour on his lips, it tasted of summers and Europe and Margot's kisses, and life, and he welcomed it all, even if it still hurt like Hell.

His life was not over.

Okay, I struggled a bit with this chapter. Okay, I struggled a lot.

After all, writing Margot's funeral felt a bit weird. Margot is me, as Myers is me, they both have parts of my personality, as I guess is the way with all writing. And I will miss writing about their love.

But hey, I do have a part V planned. I'm not going to write it if no one wants to read it, though... So if you wish to know what happens to Myers next, let me know. Otherwise - maybe this is it?

Thanks for reading - I do appreciate it so much!