NOTE: This meeting takes place AFTER the events in the Chimera plotline

"You like these, don't you?"

Jag opened his eyes and gazed up at a sweet pair of breasts, cupped in the skilled and nimble fingers of a girl named Amber. Or maybe it was Anna? Alicia? Something like that anyway. She was riding him slowly, expertly: the way he liked it. The way his second wife had done so that time in an old adobe hotel in Rio, Carnival going on in the streets below their room, a cinnamon and honey scented breeze filling the air, mingling with the scent of their sex.

The girl with the A-name giggled and peered down at him through a tangled mane of tawny hair, green eyes full of lust and laughter. "Are you really a superhero?" 

This last said with an odd accent.

One he was familiar with.

"Seriously," she said, both hands now flat on his chest as she leaned into him. "Do all superheroes snore like bandsaws in a church?" 

The accent had no place being here. It was pulling him away from the girl with the A-name.

"I mean, far be it from me ta tell ya where ta nap, but if yer gonna lay out here in public in pants that clingy..."

Jag awoke with a jerk and a snort, eyes flying open to discover Danny standing at the foot of the pew, hands in his pockets, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Tent city, SB. Must have been a good one."

It would have been, given a few more minutes. Soldier Boy grumbled as he sat up and wiped the sleep from his face. He wasn't asking for much, just a quiet place to take the occasional nap. The chapel at Conquistador headquarters had fit that bill until now. Danny stood there with a stupid grin on his stupid face waiting for a reply to his little dig. Soldier Boy sat back, stretched his arms across the back of the pew and thought of an appropriate retort.

"Fuck you. What do you want?"

"I had your lunchbox," Danny replied, still smiling. "And the Soldier Boy action set with the motorbike and the pen. You know, the one that let ya write secret messages in ink that wouldn't show up unless ya ran a black light over it." Danny continued around his grin. "And the original Super Solider doll. Loved that thing, me. But see, it wasn't mine. It was my dad's. And even though it was like, twenty years old, it held up. Damn thing had been dropped inta the sea, thrown onta the roof, and once," Danny laughed. "hell, once it even got buried by the dog for like, a year, until the gardener found it."
He shook his head, remembering.

"But it held up."

He pulled a hand out of his pocket and gestured at Jag's hand. The scarred one, with the knuckles that ached when it rained.
"You though... well, you ain't holdin up so well. And here I sit, for the last three months, yer own fuckin time machine, and you haven't come ta see me." The smile faded.

"How come?"

Soldier Boy stared at Danny for an uncomfortable length of time. "Is that what you woke me up for? Damn it, son, why can't you let this go?"

"Because it doesn't make sense," Danny replied simply.

"It makes perfect damned sense. You live a life, you earn some scars. That's just the way it is. No big deal."

Danny stared at Jag, one eyebrow raised in disbelief above eyes the color of sapphires. "No. It ain't the way it is." He pulled his hands from his pockets and sat down next to the old soldier. "Not for you. Not for us." Danny shook his head. "You were pulled out of wherever it is ya were pulled out of as a boy, pumped full of God knew what, and paraded around for decades as this... this..." he waved a hand vaguely "ideal of what Americans were supposed ta be. Nobody told ya what ta expect. Not really, I mean. How could they have known? How could you? Ya got seventeen kinds of hell beaten out of you along the way, wrecked several marriages, saved my parents and everyone else on the sodding planet four or five times, watched some friends die and others leave..." 

He shook his head. "Yer vanishing inta this weird sort of 'old soldier' shite, nursin yer wounds and tryin ta be Alan Quartermaine on his last adventure cause..." Danny's face screwed up in a mix of disbelief and disgust " cause that's just life?" He laughed. "Well sod that, mate." He raised one smoking hand, the blackness coiling into the air with a muted hiss. "Life just ain't what it used ta be. The rules have changed, and yer a fool if ya think ya have ta just roll over and be Fate's bitch." He clenched his fist, eye's sparkling. "If anyone alive today has earned the right ta live another life, ta do some more good in the world, ta apply all that knowledge and experience, all those mistakes and fuck-ups that come with livin inta somthin more and better, it's you." He opened his fist, the blackness slithering along his fingers the way the serpent must have slithered through the garden. "Fucking hell mate, even if ya just want ta go on holiday without pain for a few more bloody years. Haven't ya earned that?" 

Soldier Boy stared blankly. "I'm sorry, I drifted off. What did you say?"

Danny just smiled. "Ya heard me. Heard every word."

"Of course I heard you. You won't shut the hell up." Soldier Boy jabbed a meaty finger in Danny's face. "Listen here, Lucky Charms, I appreciate what you want to do for me, and I don't expect you to understand, but it's better this way. Trust me." Danny flicked the edge of the finger with his own, a brief surge of warmth blossomed at the contact, the skin just at the tip turning pink and healthier. "Better fer who? Better how? Oh wait," Danny said, leaning back and mirroring Jag's earlier pose, left hand still smoking. "I bet yer the bloke who took his poor ol hound dog out back and shot him cause he'd lived such a long and great life, then refused ta cry about it where anyone could see cause that's not bein' an man." 

"Fuck that." 

Soldier Boy jerked his finger back and stared at the transformed tip. "You do that again, you'll end up healing yourself. Hear me?" He stood, stretched, and walked to the far end of the pew. Danny laughed. "For the record, I haven't had a dog since high school. Gomer lived a long life and had a natural death." He sat. "Dumb bastard got sucked into a combine."

Danny rose and hopped up on the edge of the pew facing him. Then he jumped up, spun gracefully in the air, and landed once more on toe tips, balanced easily on the pew like some sort of avian predator. If avian predators looked like Disney Princes. "Is that an allegory?" He asked mildly, peering intensely at his teammate. "Cause it doesn't have ta be. Look mate," Danny sighed, "I'm not offerin ta make ya immortal or anything. I don't need yer soul ta make the magic work. Just let me fix what's broken ya hard-headed old fart." He stood abruptly, maintaining that fluid balance despite the suddenness of the motion, and placed his smoking hand over his heart. "I solemnly swear that every hundred years fer the next couple of millenium, Stone and me will go ta yer grave and pour a pint of Guinness atop it and remember what a great bastard ya were," he intoned. "Ye'll still die when yer supposed ta," he added gently.

"Immortal? That's not... It isn't... You don't... Aw, fuck you." Soldier Boy began to stand then decided to remain seated. "I'm just not the kind of guy who patches things up when they start to wear out. My hairline is receding, but I'm not going to get hair plugs, and I'm not going to get rid of my wrinkles by having my ass injected in my face. A man has to accept who he is and what he's become, or he isn't a man."

"So yer a liar then?" Danny said, nodding in understanding. "I mean, yer not a good one, that's fer sure." He cleared his throat, threw back his shoulders, and barked "If you're going to be a Conquistador, you're going to have to do whatever it fucking takes to be the best. You got me? That means you give up your girlfriend. You give up your boyfriend. You kiss your fucking wife goodbye in the morning knowing that this may be the day you don't come home. And you absolutely don't ever quit - not on your team and not on the mission." 

The Irishman assumed a more normal pose, hands clasped carefully behind his back. "Remember that shite you told us at the beginning? Did ya believe any of it?" He shook his head. "Look, what the hell is the point of havin a healer onboard if ya don't get healed? Or do ya just like whinging on about yer glory days cause ya want pity?" 

Soldier Boy said nothing. He just stared straight ahead, his head turning a shade of red bordering on purple. "What did you just call me?"

"I didn't call ya anything, mate." Danny replied calmly. "I'm just pointin out the discrepencies in yer little fable." 

Soldier Boy struck the pew, shattering it's back, sending Danny toppling over backwards. The younger man twisted and landed uncomfortably on the floor, banging his head against the back of the next pew up. "Ow, ya bastard!" 

Soldier Boy rose slowly. "Listen to me, you wet behind the ears little shit, I don't need to be healed, and I don't need some damned fetus explaining life to me. I'm running out of god damned ways to say this. Fuck off!"

"Doors over there, ya can leave any time." Danny replied as he climbed to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "And I know exactly what ya need. Lie to yerself, lie to anyone else, but I've seen inside you mate. I know what's going on in there." 

"You know shit, and I don't need your help. Who died and made you Oprah?" Soldier Boy turned quickly to leave, winced in pain and grabbed the small of his back.

"Uh-huh,' said Danny from behind him. "I know enough ta get help when I need it, and ta use all my resources ta get the job done. I speak eight languages, can write a fair amount of code, and cook a meal that will make yer dear sainted mother weep into her jello mold. Sure I'm young, but that don't mean I'm stupid. Stupidity is not doing something that you know you should because ya have a fat head." 

Soldier boy eased back into the pew. "You know what never fails to put a smile on my face? People who think they know what's best for me. Yep, that's always a treat. So listen, I don't want to spend whatever time i have left arguing with you about this. How do I make this go away?"

"I don't think I know," Danny replied calmly, left foot moving splinters of pew around randomly. "I do know. I've seen it. And the way ya fix it, is ya sit right there and ya let me do my job." 

"And I thought I was an arrogant fuck. You lay one fancy finger on me and I'll bust out your teeth out. I ain't kidding."

"See, that's the thing about Americans. You lay out the truth for em, all nice and sparklin', and when it doesn't match that little movie that starts playing," Danny pointed with a smoking finger at the center of his forhead, "behind their eyes every time they close em, they call it arrogance." Danny shook his head. "I've. Seen. It." He reached down and picked up a fragment of pew, turning it over and over in his hands, one smoking and one not. "Dead muscle and nerve tissue. Spinal column crooked as a the Catholic Church, bone matter splintering, marrow dead and dyin..." He dropped the wood and looked up at Soldier Boy without a trace of a smile. "Yer broken mate. Plain and simple." 

"I know I'm busted up, you little prick. I'm just trying to get it through your head it's not a problem. Look at this thing." He held out his healed hand and looked at it like it was an abomination. "It used to hurt like a son of a bitch whenever I did anything with it; hold a beer, work a fork, pinch a nipple. Anything. Now, nothing. Nothing at all."

Danny looked at the extended hand for a moment, then back up into Jag's eyes. "So... let me get this straight. To you, sliding down the rabbit hole to infirmity is somehow a good thing? It's not a problem?" He shook his head as the silence drew out into something uncomfortable and near-physcial. "You selfish twat," he finally said. "There are people in this building who rely on you. Who may need you ta save their asses in some fight with Professor Nucloid, but because ya threw a hip trying ta assist, they'll die. Un-believable."

His left hand stopped smoking. "You know what Ace? I'm done. Ya've convinced me fair and proper. You just get back ta yer rest old man. I've got to talk to my cousin about gettin a new trainer on this team..." Danny hopped over the next pew and headed down the aisle towards the double-doors that led to the downstairs elevator.

"I ain't done with you, bitch. Get back here. I'm tellin' you a damned story."

"Oh really?" Danny said. He stopped and leaned against a pew, legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets. "I'm all ears." The smile was back, but there was an edge to it now.

Soldier Boy paced. He hated defending himself and he hated Danny for putting him in that position. The whys and wherefores of his life were none of anyone’s damned business.

“Feral Girl,” Soldier Boy said. “Sweet kid. Not even out of her teens. Me, her and a bunch of other supers were busting up a Viper base in Antarctica. We really put the hurt on the motherfuckers. Anyway, we get to the point where we’re running out of the base as its blowing up around us and the catwalk we were on buckles. Feral Girl goes over the edge and I grab for her. My grip on her wasn’t too good. Didn’t help that she was wriggling like she was. She panicked and started clawing at my hand for a grip. Mind you she could score steel with those claws, so she turned my hand into raw meat. Anyway, she slips free and falls into what was basically fiery hell. We found her body a couple days later.”

His voice trailed away and he spent several moments staring into space, a haunted look hid behind his craggy façade.

“Ever since then my hand hurt. Nothing too bad, just a steady throb now and again, like my hand had its own heartbeat. It made me remember her. Then you come along and ‘fix me up’ and its like she never existed. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you. Hell, I ain’t even sure it makes any sense to me, but my point is you took something from me that you had no right to. No right.” 

As for me having to pull your asses out of the fire and not being up to it, Jesus Christ, I can’t keep this shit up forever. You guys have to learn to cover each others asses. You know, like I’ve been trying to drive into your thick heads these last few months. You have anything to say about that, smart ass?”

"Sure," Danny replied. "Ya need therapy. Go talk ta Sebastian. Me," he shrugged. "I think that's just the thing yer hidin' behind. Poor crippled old hero, every scar a badge of honor that none of you kids would understand." He snorted and shook his head. "Bollocks. Ya can remember and honor people just fine without havin to have bones broken old man. Normal people do that every minute of every day. Yer a fine teacher, sure. But ya ain't fit for field work in yer current state." 

He turned and continued on his way to the elevators. "Everyone walks around ya on eggshells out of some sort a twisted respect, laughin at yer sailor-mouth and funny little stories" he said, footsteps echoing slightly on the marble floors of the Cathedral. "Fine. You've earned it, sure ya have." He turned and peered at Jag over one shoulder. "But if they really cared, they'd push ya to do what was right. You don't see what I see; the little looks of pity when ya leave the room, or the winces and cuttin' away of their eyes when yer back gives out, or yer knees start ta shake." 

Little motes of dust spun in the gloom about them. 

"You do what ya want. Phi'll probably shoot me down, she's so in love with the myth of ya." He shrugged again, turning to face Jag across the aisle. "But I'll be damned if I'm gonna have ta worry about them and you in a fight, when I've offered ta fix ya here and now."

"Do what you have to, you little shit. You know where to find me." Soldier Boy watched as Danny disappeared behind the elevator doors. "Fucker."

Behind the doors, Danny's smile faded. He regarded the soft, blurred reflection of himself in the cold steel of the elevator doors and shook his head. "Between you and me, I thought he'd bite." His reflection shrugged as if to say 'What're ya gonna do?', or quite possibly 'I told ya so'. 

"Fucker..." Danny muttered, as he rode down to find his cousin and have what would no doubt be the first of many useless arguments on the subject. "I'm the Witch, you're the World," he sang softly to himself as he descended.