The stench of her third cigarette in the past half hour couldn't quite drown out the near overpowering scent of the roses on her desk. Two dozen of them, in fact. Any rational person would admit that was over kill. The Owl, or Dan these days as she kept reminding herself, apparently hadn't the faintest clue as to what an appropriate apologetic gesture was, however. She really wasn't surprised. He was a complete incompetent when it came to dealing with the opposite sex these days, why would this action be any different? The color choice of the flowers was more annoying than anything else about the gift, as well: a dozen white and a dozen yellow. Friendship and regret. How painfully pathetic. It was enough to drive her to take a long pull from the flask in her desk drawer, but she resisted. There was an advertising campaign meeting in another hour concerning the new 'Millennium' fragrance Veidt had decided to put into production, and she had to present her ideas for the project. Booze on the breath never tended to help her argument, even if the particularly low cut top she had chosen this morning would assure the support of a few of the more elderly board members. She settled for chain smoking until the meeting instead. At least it somewhat drowned out the depressing floral fragrance.
She twirled the small note that had come with the roses between her fingers, no longer needing to read the tight, well formed script on the paper to know what it said. He wanted to invite Nathan and her over tonight for a nice home-cooked meal, maybe a rented movie. Something nice, simple, and distinctly domestic. The Night Owl asking her over for something quaint. It was some version of a living nightmare. He mentioned having a surprise for Nathan also, which meant she could hardly refuse his offer now. For all her annoyance at the aging retired hero, it wasn't in her to deny her only child whatever joy she could bring to him. The world was ugly enough without her adding to it for him. She crushed the note on her palm, setting the crumpled paper into the ash tray on her desk, and then set her nearly finished cigarette on top of it. She watched in detached interest as the lit stick slowly heated the thin paper, the center of the note starting to darken, then smoke slightly, then finally curl in on itself as the small flame consumed it.
It was a little shocking, how much Dan had been annoying her these past few days. She'd known him for years, hell, she'd been essentially his only friend since the Keene Act passed eight years ago outside the occasional visit from the retired second Silk Specter and his weekly beer sessions with the first Nite Owl. She knew Dan. She had thought she'd accepted the fact he was only a shallow reflection of a man without his mask years ago. Only last week she would have found the roses somewhat endearing. Sad, still, but only slightly pathetic and a bit adorable, in the same way she would regard a particularly ugly kitten. She hadn't been thinking of the past a week ago, however. Last week she didn't have a ring of bruises around her throat and wrist from an old enemy, hadn't moved the photograph of her arrest out of the scrap book and back into a frame, placing it next to her bed on the night stand. A week ago the Nite Owl wasn't there in the forefront of her mind, nearly drowning poor Dan in the long shadow the costume cast.
She grabbed another cigarette, lighting it with the nearly dead flame of the smoldering note with a sigh of resignation. No matter how depressing the affair was, they would be going tonight. Lifting the phone, she cradled the headpiece against her shoulder and dialed the Owl's nest to confirm. Dan was a proper gentleman after all; he would be expecting an official RSVP.
She'd stopped at a corner store on the way to the nest to pick up another pack of cigarettes after her long afternoon of smoking, and she regretted the decision as soon as she lit up the first smoke. She usually kept her smoking down to half a pack a day, and while a steady afternoon of chain smoking had kept her agitation and annoyance at a nearly ignorable base line, she had to admit it was starting to play hell with her already abused throat. She coughed painfully into her leather gloved hand as Nathan and she reached the Owl's door, pausing to groan slightly at her raw throat as Nate cheerfully rang Dan's doorbell, the child utterly undeterred by his mothers discomfort at the prospect of a present from his somewhat boring, but inventive, 'uncle.' So it was through watery eyes that she saw Dan for the first time since their fight two days ago, the potential awkwardness of their greeting swept aside as he ushered them in, running off like a worried nanny to get her a glass of water for her cough before she had a chance to say a word.
"Thanks," she managed to croak, downing the water in a few swift gulps in an attempt to sooth her aching throat.
"Not a problem. You okay there?"
The level of concern in his voice was touching, the words close enough to what Nite Owl himself would have once said after a rescue that she wasn't yet annoyed with the man. She nodded that she was fine, clearing her throat experimentally for a moment before attempting to form any kind of coherent sentences. Nathan had no patience for putting off his surprise for his mother's sake, however, and she rolled her eyes slightly as the four foot boy tugged urgently at the edge of Dan's suit jacket. A suit, complete with tie, on a Tuesday night. Did the man even know how to relax?
"Oh, uh, hey there, champ. How's it going?"
"Mom said you had a surprise for me!"
"Nate," she scolded, the amusement in her voice probably destroying any chastising affect she may have been aiming for, "That's not how we greet people who are going to give us things. We make them feel loved and important so they will give us even more."
The 'yes ma'am' her son cheerfully responded with was somehow almost drowned out by the disapproving look the Owl shot her over the brink of his glasses. Moral indignation. If she pretended his glasses were goggles she could almost love him again.
"Nic, you aren't really teaching him that kind of thing for a moral compass, are you? Only be nice to people so they can give you something in return?"
"And why not?" She breezed past him, refilling her glass with a beer from his refrigerator. She had a feeling he only had them stocked for her. "Life's tough, I'm not going to delude him. I don't suffer from a hero complex, Dan. I'm realistic."
He shook his head behind her, taking off his glasses in a signature move of distress and discomfort. She mentally braced herself for yet another philosophical argument regarding Nate's education. For some reason Dan thought being the boys godfather gave him some kind of right to be involved in his upbringing. She was saved the trouble by Nate's impatient sigh from the kitchen doorway.
"But regardless," she stated, "I believe you did promise something in the way of a surprise. You know we won't have a moment's peace until you hand it over. Nate doesn't like things being held over his head."
"Just like his mother." Dan groused and they shared a smile for a moment until Dan looked away, placing his glasses back on and walking to the basement door, gesturing, to Nicole's surprise, for the two of them to head down.
"Dan?" She questioned uncertainly even as Nate bounded forward, slipping down the previously forbidden basement stairs without a backwards glance.
"It's fine." He says with an odd smile that's so familiar it makes her heart jump to her throat, motioning for her to go down. "I, uh, well, I figure it's time I stop pretending nothing's down there, I guess."
"Rorschach coming back has really done a number on us, hasn't it?" She asks as she passes by him, walking stiffly down the familiar steps, the excited shouts of Nathan below the only thing reminding her it was still 1985 and not the early 70s all over again.
"Guess so," he admits, closing the door behind them as he follows me down, "made me think about a lot of things, at least. A lot of things I didn't even remember I'd forgotten."
"Yeah," she whispers as they arrive at the bottom of the stairs, "Me too."
Archie stood covered in a large, dust coated tarp. A giant tucked into bed by the Owl nearly a decade ago, out of sight and out of mind. Until now. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as she gazed about the heart of the Owl's nest, nostalgia washing over her powerfully enough to make her knees tremble. A thousand different scenes played before her eyes in each and every corner, every shadow forming into a ghost of times past. The display case where she'd carefully placed his mask after they'd thrown it to the floor in the heat of passion, the large glass eyes of Archie that had always seemed like some silent observer to their activities, judging the mask and villain as they breathed as one, the work bench where she'd sat, grabbing the front of his costume, demanding the Owl pay attention to something far more interesting than his little electronic gadgets…the same work bench Nathan now eagerly rifled through, his demanding questions snapping Nicole out of her reflections. She took a deep breath through her nose, wrestling the slight blush on her face back under control as she watched Dan moved forward, leaning over the bench to see what it was Nate had become so fascinated with.
"That," Dan explained, "is a sound magnifier. You put this part in your ear, here let me show you…" he placed the small, curved device around the back of Nate's ear so the small padded bit fit into the inside of his ear canal, "and then you press this little button on this box here, and you can hear things normal human ears can't pick up, just like a, uh, an owl, get it? Here, Nicole," he turned to look at her as she stood still rooted above them at the base of the basement stairs, "whisper something, okay? Soon as I give the sign."
He fiddled with the box for a moment, pausing to give it a few firm whaps with the palm of his hand before throwing her a thumbs up sign. She sighed softly is rueful amusement, shaking her head softly as she whispered:
"Boys will be boys no matter how old."
"Hey!" Nate exclaimed, looking back and forth between them happily, "I really heard that!" The seven year old grinned widely at Dan.
The retied Nite Owl laughed, "Well, consider it your surprise kid, if you like it."
Nate gave a happy whoop, quickly demanding to be given the box, then scampering off around the basement, stopping here and there in random locations; apparently trying to find what small noises might exist outside the normal human hearing range in Dan's exotic work shop.
"Thank you," she drawled as Dan approached her, leaving Nate to his own devices, "I never enjoyed what little privacy I had in my house, anyway."
He shrugged helplessly, rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic glance, "Oh, you know kids. He'll get bored of it in a week."
"Says you," she scoffed, "You're ruining him, Dan. He's getting little images of heroes dancing in his head, being down here. You're going to turn him into Nite Owl the Third if you keep it up."
"Masked heroes are illegal, Nicole. I don't think you have too much to worry about."
"Ah, yes, because no son of mine would ever dream of breaking the law."
"I, uh, well…huh."
"Mom!" Nathan shrieked from his spot near the subway tunnel entrance, "I can hear rats down here! This is so awesome." He scampered closer to the stone archway, pausing again to listen to the small rodents.
The two adults laugh softly, the child's enthusiasm sapping the weight behind any argument they may have been working on starting. She tucks a stray strand of red hair behind her ear and offers Dan a smile, a friendly, accepting one that looks nothing like the old grin she wears in the photograph of them on her nightstand.
"Thanks, Dan, really. Hero or no, at least he's a happy kid."
"Anything to help." He assures her, answering her smile a platonic one of his own.
"Well," he starts again after a few minutes of companionable silence, "we should, uh, probably head upstairs. Dinner will be done soon."
"Sure thing. Nate!" she yells, wincing slightly as the boy flinches at the loud shout invading his elevated hearing. He pulls the device out of his, turning to regard his mother somewhat edgily. "Dinner time!" She doesn't apologies for her mistake, only smiles and pats the back of his head as he runs by. She's the adult. She doesn't need her child's forgiveness.
Dan and Nate head up first, leaving Nicole to gaze for another few moments in quiet reflection at the Owl's basement. Dan yells at her from the top of the stairs and she turns from the memories, climbing up the stairs to join Nate's excited chatter and Daniel's indulging commentary. The Nite Owl's gadget still hangs from where her son had clipped on his belt, a small piece of the past clinging in silent testimony to the living representation of her future. Her stomach clenches slightly as she realizes she doesn't know how to feel about that.