[center][img]https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/wesley_dodds_001.jpg[/img][/center] [hr] [indent][indent]Old wrinkled hands measure out a dark tie and Wesley surveys their work in the mirror. Loops, folds, twists and tucks. He worked to flatten and square the knot, before straightening the lengths. He watched as the tie changed shape before his eyes. The tie gave way and in its place a sterling silver framed hourglass now hung from his neck on a chain. The old man’s neck stiffened.[/indent][/indent] [hr] [indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][b]Rex Tyler[/b][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] Dodds and Tyler sit in Rex’s boxy brown Chevy. A pudgy middle-aged Rex behind the wheel, as Wesley sat quietly in the passenger seat. The elderly man seemingly shrunken in the bucket seating. [color=a36209][b]“So how’ve you been anyway, Wes?”[/b][/color] [color=DARKGREEN]“You know me, Rex. Running out the clock.”[/color] A fleeting look of horror crossed Rex’s face, before his eyes returned to the road for a few minutes. Wes could see the cogs ticking in his former partner’s head as he tried to formulate a response. [color=a36209][b]“Well, you know, we all feel real bad about what happened. And yes, you seem to have been--”[/b][/color] [color=DARKGREEN]“Rex.”[/color] [color=a36209][b]“--I mean, Terry’s a little older too, sure not where you are but--”[/b][/color] [color=DARKGREEN]“Rex. It’s fine. It was a joke.”[/color] [color=a36209][b]“A joke? Yeah. Well, it’s a pretty shitty joke if you ask me...”[/b][/color] His focus went completely back to the road. [color=DARKGREEN]“Rex. I had all of my years with Dian. As far as I’m concerned, everything else from here is just gravy.”[/color] [color=a36209][b]“Well… Alright. I guess you’ve made your peace with it.”[/b][/color] The pair drove the rest of the way to the funeral in silence. [hr] [indent][indent]Wesley shakes his head and closes his eyes tightly with a wince. He cautiously re-opens his eyes, barely daring to peek and its back. The tie is just a tie. It’s been happening more frequently these days. The family curse. A few weeks ago, police found him staggering around his neighbourhood back in the old mask again, wearing that long tailed trenchcoat that looks about three sizes too big. If it weren’t for a pandemic sending the world to Hell in a handbasket he’d probably have been shut away and his estate turned over to the state. When the world goes crazy enough, the mad can pass for sane… He closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. When he opened them the world shifted to darkness and his heart raced.[/indent][/indent] [hr] [indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][b]Charles McNider[/b][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] Wesley stood by the grave alone, but with him. Company for a man who couldn’t even see if he was there. Whilst the other six all acted as pallbearers. Because the job would be too much for a blind man or for sensitive Wesley. Maybe it was fitting though, he thought. Since if it was him in the box instead of young Johnny Thunder, who’d be the odd one out standing with the good doctor? Probably Johnny, he suspected. Ted Grant and Al Pratt carried from the front, the smaller man never wanting to seem backward in doing the heavy lifting. But with the Champ carrying the casket on his shoulder it looked almost comical watching Pratt lifting the box at a level above his head. Or would under different circumstances. Terry Sloane and Jay carrying from the middle. Seems appropriate. The pair maintaining an even keel and lending support to what was always an odd blend of guys. And Rex and Ted Knight bringing up the rear. Wesley turned to the good doctor. [color=DARKGREEN]“So… How’d the autopsy look?”[/color] [color=fff79a]“I don’t know. Was found by NYPD. The state coroner's handling the autopsy.”[/color] McNider didn’t play dumb. Both men knew exactly who he was talking to, and had too much respect to give an [I]“Is that you, Wesley?”[/I] like he might in order to preserve his cover for another man. [color=DARKGREEN]“Even this one?”[/color] Wesley asked, looking for anything to read on the stoic man’s face. [color=DARKGREEN]“You’re not going to find a way in for this one?”[/color] He could see the question had been plaguing McNider’s mind as well. [color=fff79a]“It’s not as easy as that, Wesley.”[/color] [color=DARKGREEN]“It’s been years, Charles.”[/color] The doctor turned to face the older man square on, making him feel uncomfortable as he gazed into faded sightless eyes. [color=fff79a]“It has been years.”[/color] McNider confirmed, with an emphasis on the 'firm'. [color=fff79a]“But the years haven’t treated all of us the same, have they? Some of us they might still press into service, if we were found. No matter how long we've been living with looking over our shoulders.”[/color] Wesley dropped his head and mumbled into his shoes. [color=DARKGREEN]“Sorry, Chas.”[/color] A few seconds passed and they moved back to standing side by side as they waited for the coffin to be brought to the grave. The older, but more vibrant looking doctor donned dark glasses which looked out of place on this unseasonably overcast day and sighed deeply, before turning to Wesley. [color=fff79a]“I can’t [u]PERFORM[/u] the cut, Wesley. But I have a line to a man on the inside. I’ll be getting a full copy of the report and filings a few days after the fact.”[/color] [color=fff79a]“I get it. I’m curious and I care too, Wes. But I still can’t afford to take any stupid risks.”[/color] [color=DARKGREEN]“Thanks.”[/color] The pair quickly reconciled. Looking to break the ice, the conversation was quickly changed. [color=fff79a]“Rex looks… like he’s filling out.”[/color] McNider looked for the right words, but with none coming to mind settling for selecting blunt ones. [color=DARKGREEN]“Yes. It’s the stuff. It’s wreaked havoc on his metabolism. I suppose we’ve all paid our prices in one way or another.”[/color] The blind man mumbled in agreement as the casket was brought forward.