Nighthawk Unchained: The Lost Bird

Part 6

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "I thought things would be different," she pulled away to squint at him. "You know, after what happened last time, I thought it'd get easier."

She nuzzled his cheek. "It does," she smiled into his chest. "You just need to let go."

He stiffened up, pushing away from the desk. His eyes wandered across the room, falling on the far side of the room.

There was a statue, courtesy of Hyperion. It looked nothing like the real model. It was too cold, too stiff, too quiet. But it looked like her. There were the sunken marks around her eyes and the way her chin jutted out from the bottom of her face.

He wanted to cave that face in.

He tried to stand up. "I have to go," she grumbled, seemingly growing heavier out of spite. "I said I have to go, now get off." He stood up, pushing her to the floor.

She landed with a huff, "Fine," she stood up, dusting herself off and heading for the exit.

His phone buzzed. He slammed his palm against his face. God, how could he forget.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The main room of the Citadel was decorated with rainbow paper mâché, with bright feathers and tints of gold and silver along the edges.

Marcus would have been fine just doing the decorating while everyone else fetched the food, but a last-minute visit from Iron Man and Black Widow left him without a choice but to accept their help.

"So, this is the surprise party." Natasha held up a streamer. "But for whom?"

"That's the surprise," Tony set a bowl of meatballs on the long table. "Speaking of which, Mark?" He turned to the said superhero, who was currently finishing his latest manuscripts.

"Hmm?" Marcus looked up, sticking his pen in his coat pocket. "Well, it's complicated." He stuffed his script into his briefcase, giving the place a quick glance over. "I can't thank you guys enough, really."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "That doesn't exactly answer our question."

"Wait, don't tell me." Tony held up his hands. "Is it your girlfriend? Zarda, right?" His shit-eating grin was spreading. "You finally gonna do it, Markie-OW!" Natasha slammed her heel onto his toe. He cringed away, nursing his wound.

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, trying to avoid eye contact. "It's for Kyle actually," he looked at the decorations. "Well, his kid anyway."

"What about him?" asked Natasha.

"His dad's been really stressed lately and, well," he rubbed the back of his neck. "You know what day's coming up."

Oh, that day. They hadn't really though about it. Everyone avoided thinking about it. It was both a tragedy and a stroke of good fortune in one fell swoop.

"Well, it's also Neal's birthday and I want it to be a surprise." Marcus sighed, dropping his head in his hands. "I just thought that Kyle might enjoy it too." He hadn't seen his friend laugh in a while. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen his friend at all in the past month. Save the missions, of course.

He gave his guests a few nervous glances, coughing into his fist. "You guys are invited if you ever wanna -"

"We're good," Natasha held up a hand. 'We already have enough problems to worry about."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neal walked up the staircase in the penthouse. When he reached the top, he sat on the bannister and slid down. He did this for a good few minutes before he tried to do it standing up. He just balanced himself on the railing when the elevator dinged.

"Neal?" A lanky mulatto in his late twenties stepped into the room, swinging his duffel bag to the ground. "Hey, you in here?"

"Quin!" Neal surfed down the bar, leaning in and curving out before leaping into the man's arms. He laughed as his surrogate brother threw him onto his back, bouncing him every once in a while. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Joaquin set the little boy on the ground. "Where have you been?" He quickly glanced around the room. "And where's your dad?"

Neal shrugged. "He's been working," he looked away. "For a few days, actually." He muttered under his breath.

Joaquin didn't react facially but instead fisted his jeans at the knee. Typical Kyle. Pushy pushy pushy. He was always pushing things. People, limits, boundaries, someone's patience, nothing was left untouched.

You think he would learn after the last death.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Joaquin unzipped his duffel bag, pulling out a plastic packaging bag. "Happy Early Birthday." He held it out to the birthday boy. "Go on, open it."

Neal took it in his hands. He tore the tape off and opened the bag. He pulled out a domino mask and a heavy copped-colored uniform spilled out on the carpet.

He wrinkled his brow, then it dawned on him. "Is this ..."

"No," Joaquin shook his head. "It's not the original. But it's the closest I could get," he rested a hand on Neal's shoulder. "I'm giving this to you. What you do with it," he picked the uniform off the floor. "Is up to you."

Neal bundled up the uniform in his arms, clutching it to his chest. "Sparrow," he stared at his feet and blinked furiously.

Joaquin took the boy and set him on the couch. "Hey," he hugged the boy to his chest. "It's okay, it's okay."

"I wish I could have known her," he mumbled into his older brother's lapel. Joaquin squeezed him tightly, rocking him back and forth before pausing, loosening his grip.

"You know," Joaquin pulled back to look as the boy clearly. "Her room at the end of the hallway. You know," he nodded at the staircase. "The locked one."

The door had a weird marking on it, like grass that had bleached under a stone, in the shape of a rectangular plaque.

The door was locked, but Kyle wasn't around. So ...

He nuzzled his brother. "I'll look into it." He knew Kyle. He wouldn't be around for a couple of days, at best.