Chapter 7.

The official resting place of superpowered beings was not the Maxville cemetery. An incident involving experimental technology and a villain obsessed with re-animating fallen heroes and villains assured the hero community that the ordinary cemetery was not a safe place for the bodies…even in death they couldn't rest in peace. So around the same time that the underground Hero Haven was established, the authorities decided to create a special graveyard for superpowered beings underground. It was made accessible only to approved family members and friends- a detail I had somehow forgotten.

I shifted my weight uneasily, already feeling uncomfortable in the superhero uniform that I hadn't worn for any significant length of time in five years. The guard in charge of the cemetery was eyeing me with distaste as he scrolled down the list of people allowed inside.

"Ah," he said finally, "Here you are- sorry, but you're listed as Ember in here instead of Third Degree. Maybe because you have your villainy counts listed under the name Third Degree…" he mumbled, scratching his bearded chin.

"So…can I go in?"

"Sure," he said, turning back towards the computer on the wall nearby. "You're approved for visiting four graves- which should I transfer you to today?"

"Four?" I asked, puzzled. I'd expected two: Mr. Stevens and Knight.

"That's what it says," he replied, rather un-helpfully.

"I'm here to visit Mr- uh, Chrono's grave."

"Alright then, that's right- oh I suppose they're all in the same section anyway, my bad." He smacked his gum a few times and typed something into the computer.

A white glowing circle appeared, the traditional mode of transportation within Hero Haven. I looked around the glowing room I was in currently, a small office off the main street of the haven- before stepping into the transport. I was suddenly weightless, flying towards my destination without any identifiable movement.

"Doesn't even say thanks," I heard the man mumble before I was lost in the whiteness.

A second later I was standing on a grassy knoll. There were several headstones in the vicinity, some made out of otherworldly materials that glowed with strange radiance. Others looked like they might be at home in any cemetery in the world. I took a step forward, looking around for the right name…or for Lydia, if she was still here.

There was a sudden tugging sensation on my hand. I looked down and determined I must be in the right place. Fiona stared up at me with large, dark eyes.

"Hi daddy," she said calmly and smiled, freckled nose scrunching with the expression.

I knelt, looking around before meeting her eyes, "Hi."

"Whatcha doing here?"

"I came to see your mom…and your grandpa's grave," I felt suddenly nervous, unsure about what to do. I looked down as she released my hand and stared back at me.

"I have a lot to tell you," she finally related.

"I do too."

"Mine's more 'portant."

I smirked, "Then go ahead. You go first," I looked around again, still no sign of Lydia.

"Momma misses you. She says she doesn't, but she does."

I frowned, knowing that missing me had hardly anything to do with our separation. How could you explain trust issues to a kid though?

"She doesn't know she'll need you," Fiona added, pushing her dark hair away from her face.

"Need me?"

"For what's coming."

My brow creased underneath my black half-mask. I didn't have much experience with kids, but were they usually this cryptic? "What's coming?"

"Death," she answered solemnly, gripping the edge of her blue dress. My mind reeled as she continued. "Death's coming. I want momma to be safe," tears suddenly filled her eyes, "But Fintan says she can't be safe if daddy's not with her."

"Fintan? Wait Fiona, I don't understand," my voice was rougher as I grew more irritated.

"The ray of death is coming. He said to tell you," a tear ran down her cheek and she rubbed at it fretfully, "You have to find momma," she turned and began running.

I stood up and followed after, assuming she was running back towards Lydia. Losing sight of her behind a particularly big monument, I hurried my pace. Pausing, I looked around, there was no sign of her. She'd disappeared like some ghost and I was left panting frantically and turning round and round like some maniac.

"Warren?" I heard Lydia's familiar voice and turned around once again to see her standing nearby, alone. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her hands clenching at her sides. I recognized her stubborn expression, even with half her face masked. Black eyes glared at me suspiciously.

"I- Where's Fiona?"

"Fiona?" she repeated, her voice a raspy shadow of what it'd been seconds ago. "How do you know about Fiona?"

I stepped forward, closing the space between us fearfully. Gathering her into my arms gingerly- as if she'd push away at any second. She was limp- almost dead in my embrace.

"It's ok," I said, not caring at the moment about Hero Haven conduct measures, "I know. I'm sorry Lydia…" I pulled away slightly, looking down at her, "But I think something's wrong," I began again, "Fiona was saying-"

"You talked to Fiona?" Lydia said, pushing me away violently.

"Yes," I answered, trying to understand her sudden anger. I stared back at her until the fire in her eyes dimmed and vanished.

They were cold as she spoke, "Fiona's right there Warren," and pointed behind me.

I turned and expected to see the child standing behind me with a playful grin. Instead I saw a headstone and sank to my knees.

"Fiona's dead," Lydia added more softly- a mere whisper across my senses.

I reached out a hand and ran my fingers across the engraved lettering. It read: Fiona Marie Peace, beloved daughter and then listed the dates. She'd died a year ago.

000000000

I stared at the hot cup in my hands. It was so strange to feel its heat. The coffee inside swished dangerously close to the edge as I studied the design on it more carefully. I couldn't tell you what it was; my mind wasn't really figuring anything out at the moment. The current circumstances only came back into view when Lydia sat down at the café table with her own cup. I looked up at her, but she wouldn't look at me…pretending to be focused on the drink in front of her. We had agreed to change back into civilian clothes and visit a more normal venue for our discussion.

She pushed back an uncooperative strand of reddish hair as some whiny girl folk-singer began playing in the background. I'd been an idiot not to notice how cold Lydia was now, hardened. It was the way she pressed her lips together, the way she wouldn't raise her voice to me when she would have just yelled at me before. It hurt somehow. Up until now I'd known I'd never be able to forget Lydia but looking at her now, so changed made the feeling hit with sudden, furious intensity. What exactly had I done?

"Fiona?" I prompted hoarsely when the silence stretched on.

"She died a year ago. There was a brain tumor."

"But I saw her," my voice grew louder, "I saw her. We talked!" I looked around as a few people turned to stare.

Lydia finally looked up at me, seeming suddenly tired, "Fiona's powers developed early. She could project images through time…not actually time travel, but send messages to the future. That's what you saw."

"If she couldn't travel through time, how could I talk to her? How could I interact? She heard me…she answered," my hand gripped the cup more tightly.

Her glance fell to the table and stayed there a moment. She took a drink of her coffee, looking as if she was contemplating something. "Why do you care?" Lydia asked suddenly.

Her eyes were hard again. I sighed.

"She's…was, my daughter. Come on Lydia…"

"You didn't want her," she replied harshly and grabbed her purse.

I reached across the table and grabbed her wrist quickly.

"She's dead Warren," Lydia offered, staring straight ahead, "You don't have to play nice now. It's already over."

My grip on her wrist increased slightly as I stood up as well. The coffee tipped over and spilled on the table.

"What if," I leaned my head close to hers, "What if I wanted to come back? Let's start over Lydia," my voice came as close to pleading as it could. The impulsive offer couldn't be taken back now. I tried to validate it in my head. After all…if Fiona was right and danger was coming, then maybe I had a reason to hold on to her. If it was for her protection I could justify almost anything.

She twisted her arm out of my grasp and glared up, a bit of the old temper I knew was in her face and voice.

"So you can run away again? I don't need that." Readjusting her purse strap she left the café hurriedly.

I watched her go, knowing the offer might have been misplaced in the first time. Sitting down, my anger grew inwardly as I thought over the whole situation. Lydia's non-information was getting to me. It sucked to think there were probably many other secrets of the five years we'd been apart yet to discover. My hand slammed on the table, splattering some of the spilled coffee.

I stared down at the liquid as the thoughts whirled in my head. A jumble of emotions, to complicated to define only increased my irritated mood. Suddenly I realized something.

The coffee wasn't hot anymore.

Looking down at my hand, my eyes focused on the liquid around my fingers. It was moving…boiling? Pulling my hand away with a shocked look I tried in vain to light up, stupidly ignoring my current surroundings. There was no reaction, no fire. I sighed, even angrier, but couldn't help but conclude that the probation period on my powers seemed to be ending much sooner than expected. Yet, things were so messed up, I couldn't even be glad about it.

After cleaning up the mess at the table and paying, I left, slinging on my leather jacket with a surly expression that had many scurrying out of my way as I walked down a street of Maxville.

My mind, less frantic now that I could concentrate on walking, turned back to what Fiona had said. What was it? The ray of death.

I stopped short.

"The Mortis Angelus," Harold said to me solemnly. "He stole it from the Institute of Villainy Research. Luckily it hasn't been completely operable, but his henchmen also got some time-jumping devices…that's why they called me in the first place."

He had been happy as he explained all this to me. It was just another job. We didn't know then that it would turn into such a mess.

"Mortis Angelus?" I asked, climbing into the car.

"Angel of Death," Knight piped up from the back and I jumped. He grinned at me as Harold pulled away from the sidewalk.

I put my mask on and pulled up my dark hood, glancing at Knight through the rearview mirror. "So what," I grinned jokingly, "Like the death ray?"

"Pretty much."

My smile disappeared.

A stroller pushing mom huffed in frustration as she passed me on the sidewalk. I grimaced, and began walking again, still thinking. I couldn't just ignore Fiona's warning. For whatever reason she'd sent me that message…but could it really be the Mortis Angelus? The incident, the arrest, the trial and then prison had followed in such quick succession that I really hadn't ever found out what happened to the weapon. The idea of that thing still floating around made me sick to my stomach.

It should have been destroyed, it had to have been. No one in the superhero community was stupid enough to keep it around- but if they had…

And Fiona had said Lydia was the one in danger.

Compared to the Mortis Angelus, Secondhand seemed like a minor concern. I would have to force myself back in her life after all. It was the only way to keep her safe.

AN: Sorry for the long wait for the next chapter.

I realized after writing this that in the last story I had Fintan buried in a normal cemetery...so yeah, probably shouldn't point out my own mistakes :P but yes in case you were wondering, I did notice.

Anyway, lots of revealing stuff going on here, hopefully it was all understandable!