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As soon as the dust settled, the funerals began. I was invited to a surprising number of them.
I attended them all, mostly standing quietly in the back. I also became something of an expert on the relationships between the superhero crowd by noticing who stood where at these gatherings.
On a few occasions, it's the legendarily cantankerous Batman who joined me out in the pale of civilization. He spent a considerable amount of his time glaring at me. I confess that the last time, I couldn't resist sauntering over and murmuring in his ear, "Regretting a lack of heat vision?" before making my exit.
The funeral for Courtney Whitmore's father is such a small affair I cannot stand quietly in the back, not without drawing undue attention to myself. The attendees I cannot call us mourners, for I do not think anybody outside of Courtney or her mother actually mourned were myself, Courtney's family, Jack and his family, and Captain Marvel in his Billy form. Upon seeing Billy, Courtney gave out such a gasp that I gather his attendance was something of a surprise, not wholly unwelcome, but tinged with as much sorrow as joy.
A few generic words were said. Upon the conclusion, I went up to offer my condolences.
"Any words of wisdom, Mr. Shade?" She asked.
I heard the rawness in her voice and looked at those red-rimmed eyes, and said, "Wisdom, no. The awful truth, yes. There are three things you can count on in life: death, taxes --" She gave a snort of laughter at that "and the fact that people will leave you."
She paused a moment, chewing on the thought, her eyes flicking over to Billy several times. Ruefully she replied, "Yeah, you're right about that."
She'll be an amazing woman some day. Her moxie will mature and harden into resolve. Doubtless I shall love her all the more for it.
And then, barring an extremely unlikely event, she will leave, and I shall remain.
Inspite of myself, I gave her a quick peck on the forehead.
"Shade!" she gasped, blushing with shock and surprise.
I took one of her small, yet strong, hands into mine and said, "Shush, Child, and think about what you're going to tell Pat about Billy." We both looked over to where Pat was giving Billy the look that fathers reserve for young men who come calling, while Billy looked like a rabbit in the headlights, and she laughed.
I wished her good luck and left in my usual manner.
Jennie-Lynn Hayden's funeral is the largest of these events I was invited to.
It was also, unfortunately, a media circus. Word had been leaked to the press about the time, date, and location. Miss Hayden had spent a certain part of her life in front of the camera, and now, it seemed, we all would have to spend our good byes to her in front of it.
Not that I had any particularly deep feelings for her, but I deeply respect her father, and remember the love that caused both of them to seek out my advice in the matter of Todd.
I saw no reason why their grief, or the grief of close friends, should be a mass-market, mass-media commodity.
A sea of primary colors surrounded Alan Scott, so there was no way I could discreetly make my way over, but off to the side I saw Todd Rice, dressed in plain clothes, holding the hand of a rather shell-shocked looking blond man (his boyfriend, I presume) while speaking quietly with an enormous auburn haired man. (It took me a second to place him as Nuklon, now called Atom Smasher, I hear.)
I apologized for the way my sudden appearance startled them, and asked Todd if he would like me to do something about all the vultures outside of the church.
"Like what?" He asked, somewhat suspicious.
I told them my plan. They all laughed in approval.
"Let me go talk to my dad."
I spent the next several moments making small talk with Atom Smasher (turns out his first name is Al, and he's somewhat surprised to see me here, given that I crossed swords with Infinity Inc. on several occasions. I tell him that it's a very long and complicated story) and Damon, Todd's lover, whom he neglected to tell about his connection to the caped crusaders of the world, until Todd's father showed up one night, glowing green, to deliver the bad news.
Todd returned shortly with a member of the "Green Latrine Corps" who is introduced to me as one of Miss Hayden's old boyfriends.
"Dad thinks it's a great idea, and so does Kyle."
Kyle showed me a tiny little device constructed out of green energy and explained, "My uniform really doesn't leave me a place to hide this, and if I stand there, with it glowing --"
"What's it do?"
"It's going to jam their ability to broadcast. So, I was wondering if you could use a little of your shadow, to, you know ...."
It is the work of a moment to whip up a bit of shadow to glove his hands.
"Brilliant idea by the way. I'm kicking myself for not having thought up something like it myself."
"Please," I sniffed, "I may no longer be an evil mastermind, but I haven't let my sneaky bastard skills rust entirely." I then moved off to casually saunter through the crowds outside before finding myself a nook in the back of the church.
And that is why, between the bit of shade I dropped deep in every camera and the whatever it was Kyle's little green device did, there were very few marketable photos for the vultures to hawk, and the attempts to broadcast went dead about 45 minutes before the service began.
I would have left as soon as it was over, but I stayed around to keep the cameras inoperable for the duration of the egress. Alan Scott walked my way and before I could extend my condolences and ask how much longer I should maintain my shadows, he thanked me and said, "See you at the wake."
And that is how I ended up at the JSA headquarters.
In my attempt to find a quiet, out of the way place, I wandered up to the rooftop.
I was not alone. Jay Garrick was there, wearing a soberly cut suit of gray instead of his Flash uniform. Todd and Damon were also there, holding hands.
I apologized for disturbing them all. They assured me I was not and told me to stay if I needed a break.
I sat down on a small stone bench, parked my head on the handle of my cane and stared out at the rather unimpressive skyline.
"Penny for your thoughts, " came Jay's voice from over my shoulder.
I drew in a deep breath and recited softly:
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
"A pleasant thought," came a voice I did not know.
But Jay did. "Degaton," he snarled as he whipped around, fists clenched.
I turned and took stock of the trenchcoated, jackbooted, thug standing proudly in mid-air before us.
I said nothing as he began prattling on about how he had gone back and watched Jay lose his powers three times today already.
Nudging Jay, I asked, "Is that true."
"Yes, " Jay said bitterly. "I can't touch the speed force."
And then this Degaton talked about watching Miss Hayden die, about how he watched the body disintegrate and her energies bleed off into Alan Scott and Kyle Rayner and wondered if that knowledge is as bitter to them as it is comforting.
Todd looked positively stricken at that this, and clenched his lover's hand so hard that the poor fellow gasped from pain.
Jay said to us, "He's a nomad of the time streams. He claims to have wandered them all and discovered that he'll never beat us, so he pops in from time to time to tell us all about how he watches the worst moments of our lives, repeatedly, and how much he enjoys it. He also drops little hints about unpleasantries to come."
"Ah," I replied. "Schaddenfreude."
"Indeed," Degaton said, and then went on to tell me that he recognized me from having seen me tell Stargirl of her father's death, a moment that he had repeated several times, and how it was even better than watching Captain Marvel dump her, and oh, wouldn't we all love to know the truth behind that relationship?
Addressing Degaton, I asked, "So, you can really go to any moment in the time stream of an individual's life?"
"Yes," he responds, and blinks away for an instant. "Yours is a very long string."
I thought for a moment, rattled off several dates and times, told him to visit them, and come back if he'd like a bit more schaddenfreude.
I didn't have to ask twice.
He blinked back and I asked him to report what he'd seen.
"Well," he began, "watching you sob at a woman's grave site would be more emotional if despised you on more than general principles, same with watching that man get sucked into a poster, shouting to you about his dreams of the old west as you struggled to pull him out, but the rest? Sunrise over Opal City, seeing Joan drop an apple on Jay's head, a short conversation with a doddering old man, a cup of coffee with Jack Knight, and watching Stargirl give orders to you, well, I fail to see where I'm supposed to find any schaddenfreude in those."
Slowly I stood up, and, to all appearances aimlessly strolling about (yet never taking my eyes off of Degaton) I said, "After ... I was forced to kill Marguerite in self defense, I tried very hard not to care about any thing or any person. And then I saw Joan drop that apple on Jay, and I cared about them, for I know what it is to have had a love like that. And then the Mist revealed his plans to decimate Opal City, and I remembered sunrise on the morning I realized I had finally found a place I wanted to call home. And then I traded barbs over coffee with Jack Knight, and came to like his irreverent outlook. Matt O'Dare's revelation about his dreams told me that he was my old friend Scalphunter, reincarnated." Pause. "I cared enough about him that I followed him into Hell. And when I saw the sheer courage Stargirl displayed in standing up to me, I also came to care for her.
"See, Degaton, to be human is to care for people and things outside oneself. To love them. And try as I might, I haven't been able to stop being human ... not that I'm a very good one.
"But you? I'm not entirely sure you're human." And here I launched a wickedly barbed harpoon of shadow, striking him full in the chest, and hauled him, as he struggled to suck air into ruined lungs, choking on his own blood, right up to my face. "And that bit of schaddenfreude I promised upon your return was mine." And I let the shadows take him.
I turned to face my companions.
Ashen and shocked as I expected.
Putting a bit of false cheer into my voice I said, "Well, he'll trouble none of you any more ... unless he's gone into your futures ... in the past." I shuddered. "Heavens, time travel is a nightmare to sort out, isn't it?"
More stony silence.
"I'm not a hero. And I've never pretended your code is mine."
Jay nodded slowly. He understands fully now why no one has dared come after his wife.
"I seldom make friends, I seldom love," I told them. "But when I do, it's without reserve. It's absolute and all encompassing. I'm sorry if I shocked or frightened you. But I shall never be sorry for what I did here today." I tipped my hat and bowed slightly. "Give my regards."
And I left.