PART 5
By the time Miracle made it back, Michael was trembling.
Among all of them, he could probably make it to Boston in time to help.
But it was Eleanor’s funeral. He was there for her, to say goodbye. He had skipped on going back to his parents so he could be there. All his plans involved just being there and then giving himself up to Griffin.
Would abandon it all? Abandon her?
“Michael,” Lily’s voice reached out, timidly. Shivering, she leaned over so he could see her behind Felix. “Can you help them?”
Michael winced. That was so not what he expected her to say.
“Don’t say that, c’mon. Now? The whole reason we’re here is because…no. I won’t. I have to be here.”
Miracle raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Michael saw her gesturing to one of them, and that version of her approached them. Michael recognized her from the school, she was the one doing stand-up comedy.
Sighing, she leaned over and silently told Michael.
“You can go up there and say goodbye,” she said. “You don’t have to do any more.”
Michael shuddered in disbelief.
“Guys, please…”
“We are here to honor the life of Eleanor Quick,” the stand-up comedian said, stepping away. “That’s what they always say at this kind of thing, right?”
Michael winced once again, his face twisting with emotional pain.
He was so tired. He glanced over the phone, half-hoping the fight was over, but it was still going. If it had lasted more than a minute, there was no telling how long it would actually last. Maybe it would be pointless to even try. Even if he made it in time, which never happened, maybe he would be immediately stopped, unable to offer any assistance.
Why did he feel the need to go?
Michael thought back to that moment before the confrontation. When he had looked at Eleanor for support and encouragement, and she had given it to him.
“Let’s get ‘em,” she had said. “Let’s end this.”
Those had been the last words. Michael regretted more than anything that he had not taken her for a walk that final night. That they hadn’t shared one final moment of privacy and intimacy to remember her by forever. Her last words were by no means last words, other than by the only means that matter.
Let’s end this.
She hated fights. Eleanor had always made that clear, and yet, she had consistently stepped forward, willing to be in one. Whenever someone was at risk.
He glanced back at the phone and gulped. Michael grabbed his head, trying with all his reason to convince himself not to do it. He didn’t want to face Griffin again, ever. He didn’t want to fight him. He knew he couldn’t beat them.
You don’t have to beat them to save them, he thought to himself, in Eleanor’s voice. He looked up and couldn’t help but picture her just like she looked before the fight.
She had never looked so proud of him. She had never seemed more certain that she loved him, and that he was worthy of that.
How would she be looking at him now? Curled up in an effort to let people get hurt?
Breathing hard, Michael stood up. He felt all eyes turn to him, overtly or not, and watching him as he left the line of chairs and made his way to the casket.
Grabbing hold of his trousers inside the raincoat, squeezing them, he reflexively bowed a tiny bit at the minister, if only to politely refuse his look, and then looked over at Eleanor.
A good amount of work had been done to her face. Michael didn’t understand how, but it looked like nothing had happened to her. Both eyes were closed, and her hair was combed and laid around her head, more on the side that had been wounded.
Michael couldn’t even begin to think about the whys and the hows. Seeing her dead made him think of nothing. Choking on words that didn’t even exist, he was forced to bring his arm up to his face so that tears wouldn’t fall onto Eleanor.
He cleared his throat, trying to regain control, and opened his eyes again. She was peaceful and beautiful, but clearly dead. There was no doubt. She was empty, it was so very clear from looking at her. Michael thought he would be able to handle it, but it was really like something he had never experienced before.
Hargrave had been a mess, and he had never seen him at his funeral. The Olympians had been dying, not just dead. Peacefully over.
Corpses.
Rachel’s next, Michael realized, and his heart squeezed even further. Impossibly tight. I’ll have to attend her funeral too. I’ll be to blame too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and let his arm fall. The tears stopped. “I’m sorry!” He yelled.
The murmuring stopped, and everyone looked at him, which he confirmed when he looked up. He pulled the hood down, and a bunch of people gasped. Her parents looked on in harsh judgment but he was no longer in control. Or rather, his reason was no longer in control. Something far more powerful had gotten a hold of him.
“I failed her,” he said. “And I failed her parents. And her sister. And her friends, but really? I failed the world.” Michael’s voice softened, and he looked away, shaking his head. “No one will ever know just who we lost this week. Not even I know exactly what we’ve lost, that’s how much…that’s how great. Of a woman.”
Michael gulped, managing not to choke himself into a blabbering cry, and looked back at the crowd. “That’s how great Eleanor was. And she trusted me above anyone else.” He stepped back from the casket and shook his head again. “And she shouldn’t have. I failed her. I failed all of you. I failed the world. But unfortunately…it’s terrible, but time keeps on moving, doesn’t it?”
“Young man, please–”
“Please sir,” Michael pleaded with the minister, “let me finish. I’ll leave right after, I promise.”
The pastor looked over at her parents, and they surrendered no opinion or thoughts, so he did nothing. He stood still as Michael continued.
“It keeps on moving, time,” Michael said, regretting it with every ounce of his being. “And I’m still alive. We’re alive. I just.”
He blinked, and solitary tears left his face. He stepped forward and looked at her again. The last time he would see her face.
“I’m not dead, yet. Only God knows why, but I’m not dead yet, even though I failed her. I failed all of you.” Michael’s voice went low as he reached for her, and brushed her cheek. “I failed the world.”
He had to go. Maybe he was crazy, driven mad by the extraneous efforts and pains he had gone through, but he could see it clearly in her face.
He had to go help.
“Son–”
“She didn’t,” Michael said, accidentally interrupting the minister. “She never would have. She would have helped anyone anytime and helped in the way they needed. No matter the risks,” he squeaked. “No matter the pains,” he added with difficulty. “No matter…the consequences to herself,” he said, beginning crying.
His voice grew embarrassing, childish, an octave too high, but Michael kept going. He had to. “I went into that fight to win, but she went into that fight to help. To end people’s suffering.”
Michael felt a stab of concern. Painfully, he sensed he was now wasting time. Taking too long.
“To help,” he repeated. “Goodbye, Eleanor. And thank you.” He pulled back, letting her go. “Thank you for helping me.”
He gave everyone a final look.
Michael glanced over at his friends, Miracle most of all, who had her hands covering her face. She nodded at him from behind a small crevice she left through which she could see him.
Michael stole a final look at Eleanor and felt desperation reaching out to him again. Seeking to break him down one more time.
To stop that, he pulled the hood of the raincoat back on and ran for it.
He was going to Boston.
Mach 