Lady with the Lamp
( chapter four: lost and found )
Piper
As I got older, I tended to remember a lot more. Memories. They ranged from the obscure to the sentimental, to the ones that shall never be mentioned again. Silly things, like the time I forgot to fix the toaster and totally burnt my breakfast bagel the next day, or the time I almost walked in on Stork taking a shower. Purely by accident.
Yup.
I wanted someone to pass me the steel wool so I could scrub my eyes out for that one.
But there are other memories I don't want to forget. Little times of significance in the tapesty of the world that resonated strongly with me. Chalk it up to the weather, the food I ate that morning, or the way the words were said – but they're imprinted in my mind, stored in the crevices of my brain, and with a little bit of hard thinking, I could relive that event at any time of day.
I remembered hearing about Starling, and how Aerrow's tightened his grip on my shoulder, his fingers dug deeper into my skin as the story unraveled. No one breathed then, no one was allowed to. Harrier and Suzy-Lu landed on the Condor to relay the depressing news.
Just after the Rex Guardian finished his tale I must have wrenched myself from Aerrow's grasp, my throat constricted and feeling as if it had been stuffed full with balls of cotton. My shoulder was sore, so I made to leave the room. My lips muttered a barely audible "I'm sorry" and their sad eyes burned into me. I blink at all of them, their stark, heavy faces strangely bright and vivid in my mind. I turned around, and started counting the steps that would lead me to my door.
Halfway through, I started running.
A year passed and I still found myself thinking about her often. I guess we all do. Whenever I looked up at a rainbow, the innermost colour takes me back to her. They say that the first few months are hard, and they were. Two years passed and the pressure in my still didn't lessen whenever her name was brought up. Is it bad of me to say that? I feel that it is. People say "get over it" all the time, but really, do you want to? It's not just the grief, it's the memory.
Starling was my hero, I looked up to her – I wanted to be like her. She was my big sister. I guess it came with the orphan package - we all flocked together and stuck to each other. I heard that she lost her family, although 'families' might have been a more appropriate term if you separated your adopted squadron from your biological one. Deep in my heart, I wished that she was able to find the peace she deserved. And not just her, but for everyone else.
Aerrow wished it too. We used to talk about her, about life and how much or how little we knew about the Interceptors.
I guess Aerrow missed her just as much as I did.
But I told him he was still my favourite sky knight.
This year, on Starling's birthday, I was surprised to wake up to the sound of the boys cooking in the kitchen. Still dressed in my pajamas, I rushed to the stove completely barefoot, afraid the funny smell lingering in the air was really something burning.
Imagine my confusion when I saw Aerrow making pancakes that special morning.
"Hey Piper!"
"Hey." I hesitated at the doorway, and then slowly walked inside. "Guys, what's this all about?"
Making my way over to the counter, I smelled the familiar charred remains of overcooked batter and frowned. Aerrow shrugged.
"Sorry 'bout that. I turned the heat up too high on the first batch."
Peaking around his front, I spotted two spatulas, a large aluminum bowl and a goopy hand beater in the sink. Aside from that, the kitchen was sparkling clean. Spic-and-span, thanks to the scheduled cleanup I arranged yesterday.
Yeah, I still handed out chores to a bunch of guys and a girl. It wasn't so tedious as before, but it can still be a daunting task – especially when there was such nice weather outside.
I raised an eyebrow at him. The table was formally set for seven. The whole works. Napkins, cutlery, even tall drinking glasses were positioned meticulously on red and green checkered placemats.
This was getting more suspicious by the moment. Honestly, when you shared living quarters with a bunch of people you definitely honed down on their everyday habits. I may not be the most girly-girl out there, especially when it came to laundry, but I've figured out a few things on my own.
I liked to be organized. I liked to make plans.
These guys? Not so much.
Then the real kicker came. Plunking her hands on my shoulders, Lynn steered me over to the table, and sat me down forcefully. The girl spilled the beams.
These boys – my boys – were holding a birthday party. They took the initiative to celebrate Starling's birthday without me knowing entirely. From the other end of the table, Junko beamed at me, and gleefully grabbed his knife and fork when Aerrow set down two massive plates of food in front of us. For his first appearance, Radarr popped up behind the wallop's right shoulder, and tucked a clean napkin down his front as a makeshift bib.
Overtop my head, Lynn snickered at our chef. "Nice apron." The redhead blushed and untied the frilly yellow thing in a speedily
"Nobody tell Finn about this. I couldn't find the regular one, and I didn't want egg shells on my uniform."
The pancakes smelled delicious. Whetting my lips, I pointed a finger at him. "Um, it's a little late for that, Aerrow. You've got some yolk on your pants… and is that a soggy paper towel I see?"
Our fearless leader hurried over to the sink to wipe it off. In the meantime, I looked around the table and noticed we had two significant members missing. The lack of shouting was almost pleasing.
"Where's Stork and Finn?"
Before I could rise, Lynn pushed me back down into my seat and wagged a finger in front of my eyes like a mother hen. She even clucked twice before informing me that Stork was still at the helm while Finn was out to get the cake.
"Cake?"
"Yeah. Cake. Finn didn't say what kind he ordered, but he definitely said it was going to be good." Closing their eyes, both Junko and Radarr took a good whiff of the strawberries our youngest crew member just laid out on the table. Five different bottles of syrup and a container of butter later, my stomach was really grumbling in sweet anticipation.
"I don't get it. Why are we doing this?"
Just then, one of the missing boys in question appeared in the hallway, one hand on the doorframe while he lifted his snout and sniffed the air for potential carcinogens.
"It's a birthday party for Starling and the Interceptors." I could hear the merb's prophetic thoughts on salmonella and food poisoning as he inspected the countertops and eyed the wet spot on Aerrow's trousers. Giving his best stinkface, the green one turned his head and continued to elucidate me.
"It was their idea, not mine obviously."
I blinked. "Whose idea was it? Aerrow's?"
The redhead shook his head. Negative. "Well, sort of. Finn helped."
"Finn?"" I couldn't believe it.
"Yeah! We both knew Starling's birthday was coming up, and you know Finn, he was bored. We didn't really plan anything – it just fell into place. But we had to tell Junko and Lynn."
Stork frowned at me. He must have just found about the party just before I woke up. Social gatherings didn't really appeal to him, and anything associated with the Interceptor was almost contraband to the merb.
"Why didn't you tell us?" I cried.
Correction. Why didn't they tell me? Stork was not pleased with the subject, but the least the guys could have done was let me on the secret before it actually happened! I could keep secrets!
"No offense, Piper, but we all agreed beforehand that you would eventually give in and tell Stork." My mouth formed a perfect 'o' before I stared down at my hands in slight embarrassment. Huh, I guess they knew me well enough to know I didn't like to leave anybody out.
And yes, I probably would have told him.
"Oh, I see." Automatically cue the pouting.
"Come on, don't be like that, Piper. Finn'll be back with the birthday cake." Cracking a grin, the younger girl sat down beside me and threw a hand around my waist, giving me a squeeze around the middle to cheer me up. Winking at Stork, she asked us all a very important question.
"Anybody want to guess what flavour it is?"
It is two weeks until Piper visits Dark Ace at the hospital again. The time is quarter past one. There is an empty try on the side table beside his bed as he rests on a mountain of pillows, and holds a medium-sized container just underneath his chin. The man forks something that looks like saucy pasts into his mouth.
The girl remains silent, but secretly bounces on her toes in excitement. She wonders if he is aware of her presence and whether it makes him uncomfortable. But Dark Ace continues to shovel the soy sauce-saturated vegetables between his lips. It's only when he slurps the last of the noodles does he nod in her general direction and addresses her by her first name. Her boots are much too loud.
"Piper."
"Um, hi."
Her particular brand of enthusiasm earns her a stern look but she brushes it aside and focuses on the curious blend of elation and nervousness in her stomach. She tightens her fingers into a fist, closes her eyes, and exhales.
"Your hearing with the representatives of the sky council is this afternoon. Are you ready?"
"Yes." He tosses the empty white takeout box onto the lunch tray and wipes the corners of his mouth with a clean napkin. "Deep fried noodles – who would have thought?" His voice is confident, elegant, and as usual, leaning towards cocky. Feeling no shame, he fumbles around for a toothpick and starts cleaning his teeth right in front of her, grunting when a particular piece of pork won't come out.
Awkward.
"I'll wait for you in the main lobby," she says, frowns a little, and turns to leave with an amusing spring in her step. She has to speak with the hospital's chosen representative, one of the nurses, and ensure that all of Dark Ace's papers are in proper order.
"You stay."
It's not a barking order, but it feels like one. Indignant, Piper walks over to his side and her jaw drops open when the blind man pats the bedding and tells her to help him stand up.
"I'm not one of your nurses." But she takes his arm anyway, makes sure his feet are straight.
He snorts and pushes himself off the bed, leans forward against her. "You don't have the makings of one." Looping her arm around his elbow, he points with his chin towards the door and instructs her to lead him to the nearest washroom where he can brush his teeth and clean up before they go to see the council.
"Don't forget my toiletries. They're in that green bag in the drawer."
"How do you know it's green?"
"They told me."
Overreacting a little, Piper's mind is in a tizzy and protests. She doesn't know where the bathroom is. Chuckling, Dark Ace doesn't buy her ignorance and takes a step forward, pulling her along with him, and makes her flush deeply when he says all she has to do is keep an eye out for the generic sign on one of the doors. Inwardly, he relishes teasing her, unsettling her nerves, and does his best to stare at her intensely despite the bandage wrapped around his eyes.
"Piper. How are you today?"
"Uh – fine." Her words are light, but cautious, and there are long gaps between as he asks her about her day. She is nervous about the meeting, but even more with his uncharacteristic behaviour. He seems more prepared than she is, as if he anticipates his inevitable fate and chooses to face it with the heart of a true Talon.
A light switches on inside her soul and she thinks that there might be a flicker of hope for them, but she stores the thought away for the future. As the Storm Hawk opens the door to the bathroom and guides him inside, he shoos her away and turns on the faucet with an experienced twist of his wrist. She plays right into his hands; this is his way of showing her that he is not an invalid.
She waits against the wall and crosses her arms. Piper's cheeks burn when she hears the toilet flush, and presses two fingers to her throat where her crystal necklace used to be. She swallows hard, and thanks the gods that the man on the other side of the door is washing his hands afterwards. There are some things that must always be done.
"Come on," he says, and grips her shoulder with his right hand. "Let's go meet those old men."
In the main lobby, it comes as no surprise when the hospital representative turns out to be Abigail. Tucking a thick manila envelope under her arm, the older woman smiles at both of them and heads out the doors to stand beside her husband and his skyride.
It is a slightly cloudy day; this is a good omen for Dark Ace. Although he can no longer see them, he prefers grey clouds over bright white ones. The sunlight is not as offensive to his face, and not sweating underneath his newly washed Talon uniform. His clothing comes from the girl during her last visit when she gave him back of his personal possessions. The fabric is like a second skin to him.
Abigail states the obvious: the Cyclonian must ride with someone to the mayor's office. The sky council representatives might already be there, and it will be a shame if they show up late. Vehemently, Dark Ace refuses to ride with the older woman despite her authority over him, and the nurse cracks her jaw, and retorts that she won't be driving anyways. She has never liked motorcycles, and her significant other will accompany her.
Under his breath, Piper hears him mutter "pudgy, aunt-figure" and fights to keep her face blank when the woman in question raises a thick eyebrow at him suspiciously.
"Then I'm going to ride with Piper."
As if he has a choice in the matter.
The nurse and her husband lead the way. He can hear Piper's shallow breathing, and he knows she is overly excited about speaking in front of the council. She tries to say something but ends up making unintelligible sounds with her mouth. Her inexperience (or is it youth?) is obvious when she guides his hand to the cushioned seat. The man wears an unreadable expression as he climbs on the ride and shifts his rear into a comfortable position. It is too soft for his tastes.
He didn't expect the bike to be built for two.
The bike sways a teensy bit to the right when the girl slides into her seat in front of him and turns the engine on. The heliscooter's blades chop the air loudly in the Talon's ears and his gut twists with regret that he will never be able to pilot his beloved Switchblade again. He doesn't even know where it is. Is this experience going to thrill him or will it be another disappointment in his life? He can count with the fingers of his left hand the number of times he has been an official passenger. Now, he is doomed to covet the hypothetical sidecar forever.
"Um, you might want to hold onto me, just in case we run into any strong winds."
Following her suggestion, he leans forward and places his gloved hands on either side of her waist. Piper jumps a little, and clears her throat to hide her embarrassment. She is incredibly skinny; he can wrap his arms around her torso twice and still have room to space.
"Are you okay back there?"
He nods unhappily. He is not looking forward to this flight. But before more unhappy thought formulate, the girl breaks through his melancholy barrier when she unexpectedly links their fingers together. Brave child. Her voice is soft and low.
"Hey, don't worry. Everything will be fine. All right, we're lifting off now."
Someone must be looking out for them. Piper knows it from the moment she opened the letter from the sky council. As she stands in front of the elders and pleads for the Dark Ace, she can feel the hatred radiating from the council's aging bodies. For the first time, she thanks the stars that the Talon is blind. The girl expects the worst, but the negotiations are working in their favour, mostly due to the medical reports. The papers are an effective tool to play up the patient's vulnerability, and she takes pride in his appearance. It was her idea to keep the bandages around his face to emphasize his sightlessness, perhaps stir up the dregs of sympathy. Somehow, a pair of sunglasses does not have the same effect.
It is over ten years since Dark Ace has last seen the council, and the irony of the situation is not lost on him. He can smell them, imagines them hiding behind a large oak table with their palms flat against the surface, glaring at him like a stray dog dragged into a kennel. Upon Abigail's orders, he must remain perfectly still and only speak when spoken to.
The woman's fierce allegiance surprises him; despite all the insults and empty threats he must have thrown at all the nurses, including her, the woman is amazingly generous when she describes his manners as a patient.
He supposes a nurse's loyalty extends further than the four walls of her ward.
The questions rifle from the elders lips one after another.
What is his condition? Is he of sound body and mine? Is he capable of flying again? On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate his independence?
Other questions surface, and Dark Ace's blood pulses, his heart beats frantically like a moth trapped in a dark box.
"No," one man says. "He is not allowed to live by himself without supervision. He must have a caretaker." The female Storm Hawks nods her head in agreement.
"How much money do you need for this task?"
The Talon's mind flashes back to the moment he first walked through the doors of the mayor's office. He came in here, expecting the council to shake their balding heads and take him straight to prison. This morning, he was confident of his fate – a dead man. Yet, here he is, listening to the first precious words of freedom.
"I declare the man known as the Dark Ace, top-ranking officer of the Talons, and champion to the previous Master Cyclonis, exempt from immediate execution until further notice."
It can't be true, it just can't. His mouth has gone all dry; all the bones in his body are crumbling into sand. Any moment, he's going to just fade away.
"We read these reports beforehand. And we, the representatives of the sky council, have agreed to reconsider this man's sentence under his special circumstances. It will take some time, but we will review his case carefully. It is clear he is no longer a threat to Atmos, but precautions still have to be made." The elder who is speaking scratches his nose with a liver-spotted hand and peers straight into the heart of the Cyclonian before addressing him. Piper sucks in a lungful of air and secretly crosses her fingers behind her back.
"Dark Ace."
The man's expression is blank. "Yes?"
"These are the rules. You are not allowed to pilot any skimmer. You must be accompanied by a member of the Storm Hawks at all times. Your travel is restricted to two terras at any one time. You are forbidden to fight."
Dark Ace holds his breath, and the muscles in his jaw clench. The previous soaring feeling in his gut is considerably lower now. Everything that helps identify himself as a person is gone. So, this is the price of his supposed freedom.
"Nurse Abigail informed us that you are no longer welcome at Our Lady of Lourdes, but also require constant medical surveillance for the first week. You need assistance for your condition."
The man grits his teeth and silently vows to choke on his tongue if the list continues for much longer. He can picture in his head, the council ticking off one limitation after another. He is a soldier, a fighter, and recklessly contemplates if hanging is slightly better off than being tied to the ground. As the elder continues babbling about the terms of his contract, he drowns out the excess with his selective hearing.
"Piper of the Storm Hawks, do you agree with our decision?"
Straightening her spine and stiffening her arms, she nods. "Yes."
The elder sitting to the far right of the oak table takes off his spectacles and rubs his watery eyes with the back of his wrinkled hand. He plucks the papers from the other man's hands and waves them in front of his face, a silent warning or unspoken penalties should the Storm Hawks fail. The council has been looking at the squadron's unofficial record to assess their credibility.
"Then we hand over guardianship of the Dark Ace to the Storm Hawks." But before the girl can breathe a sigh of relief, the elder speaks up again.
"You are eighteen, Piper." It is not a question, but she answers anyway. Her upper arms tingle in anticipation as the heavy burden of a man's execution gradually loses its weight. She resists the temptation to turn around and look at Dark Ace.
"Yes, I'm eighteen."
"Nurse Abigail will be retiring in eleven days, and the Dark Ace needs a replacement caretaker. The hospital can't afford to give up one of their employees for a non-critical patient." The elder shakes the papers furiously and Piper blinks. "You agree with this statement, but are you ready to take her place?"