I didn't like the look on Mythos' face as she left -- there was too much of that "I'm going to be bad" vibe coming off of her, even thought she was trying her best to convince us otherwise. I sighed, got up from the table and retrieved a bottle of liquid courage from the cabinet.

"Quentin," came my wife's exacerbated yet still amused response.

"Oh chill. Considering what we've been learning, I think a little something stronger than cocoa is required." I thinned my cup considerably; to my surprise, Bailes did not object to a dollop in hers. "Besides, what is there left to do for us old folks?"

"It's their time now," she said softly, looking at me with those eyes. "And you haven't been sent to bed, old man. We may not be in starring roles..."

"But we're ready to come in off the bench."

"If you say so," she smirked.

I sighed. "It shouldn't have had to come to this, Bailey. Everything we went through two-effing-thousand years ago seems so pointless now. The sacrifices we made -- sending the Serpent and Unicorn packing -- that was supposed to balance things out."

"What did we get instead? Anyone who had a bone to pick from what had happened decided to get uppity. We lost damn near all our relatives -- people we thought would never die. The city began this great decline... so much that we actually had to leave, for the girls' sake. And then when we thought it was safe...."

Bailey jumped as I swore, bringing my fist down hard on the tabletop. "Why did I agree to sending the children away?"

"It wasn't your decision alone, love."

That didn't help much. "We swore our children would not have things as we did, and we barely let one generation go by before we broke that oath. And now this 'darkness' that approaches... sounds familiar, no?"

"I know, Quentin."

I frowned. "What I've learned of the new breed... well, it doesn't inspire me much. A space gangster, a girl who may or may not have multiple personalities..."

"You mean schizophrenia?" Bailes added, sarcastically.

"...Mythos and the Bishop of Battle."

"Be nice. He may be your grandson-in-law some day."

"If we live." I frowned and looked into my cup for a long time. The times/They are a'changing, and what is left of us? Christopher, Old Man, gone God knows where for centuries now; Gen infrequent visitor here now; Gwyn ensconced in her fortress of solitude... we Heroes of the Day now scattered to the four winds, hoping the one thing we'd fought to contain so many years ago would never come back -- and now it has...

And then I feel small arms about my shoulder and neck, and the spark of hope is rekindled. I may be just a bit player now, but I play it better than anyone else in the whole damn universe, baby.

Back to Quentin