Being a Hero

Chapter 40

The song for this chapter is "Is This The End" by Hidden Citizens feat. Sam Tinnesz and Young Summer.

"And when all the wars are over, a butterfly will still be beautiful." –Ruskin Bond

*Caitlyn's POV*

I sat in the back of the audience with the rest of the team. I tried not to grin at the absurdity of wearing a black dress over my armored bodysuit. The result wasn't flattering for anyone involved, except maybe Majesty. Guinness was the only one not seated with us. He had the dubious honor of "saying a few words" after the chaplain's eulogy. Due to his current injury and issues with mobility, they'd put a seat for him a few steps behind the podium.

I stopped counting the starlings in the graveyard and tuned into the service when it was Guinness's turn to speak. He wore his costume and a back brace (he hadn't had time to find a suit jacket that would fit over it).

"Officer Andrews told me at the end that some people may not like us, but the world needs us. Superheroes. I imagine he's right. There will always be evil in the world that people need to stand up to. But we aren't the only ones that can." Guinness chuckled, running his thumb over the head of his cane. "Several superheroes and one little girl wouldn't be here anymore if not for Andrews. He spent his life before that day saving people and training others to do the same. He said the world needs more people like me; I think the world needs more people like him." Everett stepped stiffly back from the podium to lower himself into his chair.

I smiled at Guinness as he glanced around the audience. He'd been up late last night trying to write something appropriate. Several of us assured him this morning that it was fine. They didn't expect anything long.

The chaplain said a few more words, then asked Officer Andrews's wife and son to stand as two officers in army service uniform stepped up to the casket. The officer with more markings on his uniform called out, "Present arms."

They and the five other soldiers who had come raised their rifles. Three volleys of blanks later, one pulled a polished bugle from its case and played TAPS. Andrews's widow and son took their seats while two of the soldiers folded the flag that had lain over the casket. One of them presented the folded flag to his senior officer, then the officer presented the flag to Ms. Andrews.

The service wrapped up, and people walked in groups and clumps toward the pavilion that had been set up for afterward. Everyone had to give their condolences, and snacks and drinks were set out on tables. That part had apparently been arranged by the community Robert told me before the service. Andrews had been pretty well-liked.

I decided to give my condolences on the walk over. I handed Ms. Andrews the folded news clipping I'd saved. Then I ditched the gathering. I found a nice tree on the far side of the cemetery, hiked up my dress, and climbed, wincing when the new scar to the right of my spine twinged. That would be tender for a while yet.

I settled on a sturdy branch and relaxed against the tree trunk. This far out I could ignore the other humans. I was more acutely aware of them than before Garm, and I wondered if that would be permanent. I hoped not. It had been hard enough to block people out before. I rubbed my temples and reached for the flock of starlings. Working with animals eased the strain, made it easier to ignore the humans.

With a promise of snacks later, the starlings took to the chill air. They flocked up into a great blob, and I grinned. I teased their murmuration into a few basic shapes: cube, sphere, cone. The birds caught on through our connection and loved the idea of a game. They made a few amorphous shapes of their own, which I couldn't quite grasp the meaning of. Which was fine. Beauty didn't always need to be explained. I nudged them mentally with a much more complicated request. The flock spiraled in on itself before reshaping into a fireman's hat.