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This message Circle of Love: A Hatman and Sorceress Story was posted by Hatman on Tuesday, January 22, 2002 at 16:53.
I reach up to adjust my cap for the fourth time. And for the fourth time, I find it isn't there. It's not often that I'm without some sort of headgear resting atop my head. Quite often, whatever is sitting up there can save my life, or more importantly, someone else's. No, I'm not referring to protecting myself from the growing hole in the ozone layer. My friends call me Jay. My enemies call me things that I'd rather not repeat. But most everyone else knows me as Hatman, deputy leader of the Parodyverse's premier team of protectors, the Lair Legion. Right now I'm not chasing down some thugs who have robbed a bank. I'm not facing a world-threatening menace with the potential to erase me from existence with but a thought. No, tonight I must face…ballroom dancing. I believe my nervousness is self-explanatory.
Since my nervous habit of adjusting my cap has failed, I instead straighten my tie. I don't think I'll ever get used to wearing one of these. Not that I really want to get used to it; in my line of work, I could get strangled pretty quick by something like this. I glance at the Grandfather clock across the hall. 6:42. It's a twenty minute drive at least, if traffic is good. There's no way we'll make it in time. Our reservations are for 7:00. I was ready to go ten minutes ago, but hey, I'm a guy.
But then, the most beautiful voice in the world catches my attention. "All ready!" it calls out. A smile comes to my face, and my frustration at being late abates a bit. Descending the staircase is the reason I'm in this monkey suit and I had to comb my hair, since I don't usually bother for obvious reasons. This, is the love of my life. This, is the best thing that has ever happened to me. This, is Whitney Darkness.
She looks radiant. Her brown tresses are pinned up, soft wisps brushing her forehead. Her eyes echo the smile that is on her lips. The dress is a soft baby blue, conservatively cut in the front. The bodice follows the contours of her body until her waist, where it billows out and seems to float. She glides down the stairs and stands before me. "As loathe as I am to stop you, you had better stop staring Handsome. We have a car to catch," she says, taking my hand in hers.
I manage to tear my eyes away from her long enough to glance at the clock. 6:44. We are so not going to make it. "Just a second, Whit. I had better call and see if our reservation can be changed to a later time. We'll never make it otherwise," I tell her. Reluctant as I am, I release her hand and head for the telephone. I look up as the front door opens and our driver for the night steps inside.
"Are we ready to go yet? The meter's running," he says. The sound of a feminine voice loudly clearing her throat from the top of the stairs causes us all to turn.
"I've already called the restaurant. You now dine at 7:15," says Cheryl. Then, turning to address her husband, she adds. "And as for you mister, there is no meter. This is Whitney and Jay's night. Got it?" Visionary nervously adjusts his own tie.
"I was only joking. Really," insists the possibly fake man. "Right this way, folks." Visionary gestures towards the door. Whitney leads me by the hand out the door, and Visionary follows us out. I hear the Stunner Guns begin to power up, and reach for a hat to protect Whitney. I do this forgetting that my Hatility Belt is in my room. Just as I'm about to grab Whit and run, the Stunner Guns stop. I notice a shadow that looks rather out of place, and just smile and nod my head. While there is no response, I'm quite certain the individual caught it and understood my thanks.
I open the door for Whitney, and she steps into the backseat. I softly shut the door, then make my way around to the other side. I let myself in, and settle in next to Whit. Visionary hops in the front, battles with his seatbelt for a few moments, and we are on our way.
"It was really great of Enty to lend us this car for tonight," I remark. Normally I would not be comfortable accepting such an extravagant gift from someone, but since the one lending it to us is the head of Bautista Enterprises, I can let it go. The car is beautiful. I'm not much of a car guy myself, but even I can appreciate the beauty of a vehicle like this.
"Yes, it was. We'll have to call him tomorrow and thank him again," says Whit. I reach over to put my arm around her, to draw her close, but a playful swat of her hand keeps me at bay. "Sorry hon, but Cheryl and Val did not spend over an hour on this hair for it to get messed up before we even get to dinner." She smiles at me, and I smile back.
"Over an hour? Sheesh, I had a shower, got into this Chauffeur suit Cheryl picked out for me, hair all done up, and ready to go in 20 minutes! You women and your prep times," says Visionary loudly from the front. Just then the cell phone rang. Not sure if Vizh could focus on driving and something easy like talking on the phone at the same time, I reach over and snag the phone.
"Hello? Yes, you did a magnificent job. You want to talk to Vizh? You're sure he can handle it? Oh, you practiced on an exercise bike today. Okay, sure." I pull away from the phone. "Vizh, it's Cheryl for you." I hand Visionary the phone. Whit gives me a puzzled look, to which I shrug my shoulders. I don't know what Cheryl wants.
"Hi Honey. Yes, I'm on the right side of the road! What's that? You want me to shut up and not talk to them? Why? Because this is supposed to be a romantic night out and you don't want me to screw it up?" Visionary pauses for a moment. Whit is fighting hard to suppress her giggles, and the grin on my face just keeps getting bigger and bigger. "Well then, someone else should have been the driver!"
This caused both of us to burst out laughing. I so wished I could have seen Cheryl's face; her husband had used logic to beat her. That sort of thing didn't happen often.
"Fine, I'll put up the privacy barrier. No, I'll figure it out. Yes, I'll buy you flowers for thinking I was right. No, they won't be plastic. Okay, bye Honey." Vizh hangs up the phone. At this point Whitney and I are almost falling out of our seats with laughter. Romance is all good, but a little comedy never hurt anyone either.
"See you two lovebirds at the restaurant," Vizh says, and puts up the privacy barrier.
After another minute we finally settle down, with only the occasional giggle escaping. "Can you imagine us like that?" asks Whit. "Not that I'd mind having a completely whipped husband." She grins devilishly.
"Sorry babe, I'm not into that sort of thing. Guess you'll have to marry Fetish Lad," I joke. Whit laughs with me, but half-heartedly. She places her hand on mine, and looks into my eyes. God, her eyes are beautiful. I could lose myself in them so easily. Her voice brings me back to reality.
"Jay, honey, can we leave the superhero stuff at home tonight? No talk about supervillains or superheroes , no discussing threats to the entire Parodyverse, none of it. I want to be normal tonight. Just a girl out with her stunningly-handsome man for dinner and dancing. That's it. That's all. Can you do that for me?" I look into her eyes again. There is a quality in them, a pleading look that reveals she wants this more than anything. This girl, this woman, who has the ability to do whatever she wants, wants nothing more than my company, free of constraints from our peril-filled lives. It would break my heart, let alone her own, to deny her request.
"Yes Whit, I can do that." I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. "Anything for you." She looks at me, a huge smile on her face, light shining in her eyes. I don't know what to say. I don't want to spoil this moment by opening my big mouth and saying something dumb. Fortunately, Visionary saved me; yes, I'm not used to saying that.
"Stupid frickin' traffic! Where'd you learn to drive, huh? I'll have you know I'm friend's with a very angry Hemigod who'll pound you into mush if I ask him to! You did NOT just insult my mother!" he shouts out the window. Sighing, Whitney breaks away from me and pushes the button to raise the barrier.
"Fleabot, would you please stop coaching him on how to drive please?" she says to Visionary's shoulder. "Road Rage is not part of the Driver's Education Course."
"Sorry Sorc. My bad," says a tiny voice. I wonder if Fleabot has ever met Knifey; the two would get along quite well. I'm about to mention this to Whitney, then remember my promise. A sarcastic talking knife and a sarcastic mechanical flea probably do not fall under normal; unless you asked either of them, of course.
After a few more uneventful minutes we arrive at the restaurant. I step outside the car, and move around to open Whit's door for her. She steps out, taking my hand. I poke my head back in through the door for a moment. "We'll call when we're ready to go, Vizh," I tell him.
"Sure thing. Have fun guys!" Visionary pulls away, leaving just the two of us.
If the restaurant looks as good on the inside as it does the outside, we're in for quite the night. Cheryl helped me pick out the place; after CSFB!'s suggestion of Hooters, Trickshot's suggestion of a strip joint called Teasers, Finny's suggestion of anywhere with a really long table with chairs on opposite ends…I felt Cheryl's input would be the best. The place is called The Royal Twilight. Cheryl told me she dragged Vizh her once and loved the place. Visionary was barred from the place after he tripped on the dance floor and somehow managed to take out half of the band, and the second time the other half. Cheryl still manages to get a discount if she goes with someone else though.
We walk through the door, and I hear Whit gasp in surprise and delight. I'm a bit taken aback myself. The room is bathed in a soft blue light. The walls extend thirty feet up where they meet the ceiling. The ceiling is really something. If one didn't know better, you'd assume that there was no ceiling, and that the stars themselves were shining down on you on a crystal clear night. There is an orchestral band playing music in the front of the room, before a large hardwood dance floor, polished to perfection. Couples are slow-dancing to the music on the floor. The place is simply beautiful.
"Good evening, sir and madam. Welcome to The Royal Twilight. Do you have a reservation?" asks the host. He is a pleasant looking man in what appears to be his early forties, dressed in a black tuxedo.
"Yes we do. Under Boaz, for 7:15," I reply. The man checks his book, then looks up at us.
"Wonderful, here we are. If you will follow me, we have your table ready for you. Mrs., er, Cheryl, arranged for you to have the private table, in the balcony. Right this way." The host tucks two menus and a wine list under his arm and leads the way. I offer my arm to Whitney.
"Shall we?" I ask, a grin on my face. Whitney smiles back.
"We shall," she declares, and takes my arm. As we follow the host towards the spiral staircase beneath the balcony, I notice some of the men in the room checking out Whitney. My first response is to be angry, but then I realize that, hey, you're here with the most beautiful woman in the room. Nothing to be angry about.
I pull out Whitney's chair for her, then take my own. The Host hands us our menus, and proceeds to tell us the dinner special. "May I get you a drink to begin?" he asks. I look over at Whitney.
"I'll have a glass of your Mission Hill Merlot, please," she requests.
"Very good, madam. And for you, sir?"
"I think I'll just start with the water, thank you," I reply. Though he doesn't show it, I'm quite sure the thought running through his head was "Big spender here". Instead, he nods his head.
"Your server will be with you shortly. Have a wonderful evening," he wishes us. He then heads back down the stairs.
"Why don't you have some wine, Jay? The glass I ordered is very good," asks Whit. There are a few reasons I don't want wine. One being, I don't drink. Plain and simple. I've never seen a point in it. I can have fun with my senses and cognition fully intact. Second, if someone with my power was to get drunk, imagine the havoc that could ensue. I'm not saying one glass of wine would skyrocket me into a Space Ghost like persona or anything, but I prefer not to start at all. Of course, I can't tell Whit about my powers being a reason not to; I'm not supposed to talk about that sort of stuff.
"You know I don't drink, Whit. We've been over this before. I'm not comfortable with it," I say. I really hope she doesn't press it. I wait for her reaction, hoping against hope she will not pressure me.
"Suit yourself then. You don't know what you're missing." Oh thank goodness.
There's an awkward silence for a moment. I don't know what to say. I want to keep the conversation going, but I can't think of anything un-Legion related to talk about. It's not like I have a lot of free time to have hobbies or anything.
I'm…I'm always off doing stuff for the Legion! I don't have free time for myself, and even worse, for Whitney! The other guys can go clown around, but I'm busy reading up on the status of known supervillains or planning out training sessions. But what is worse is, if I don't have time for myself, how do I have time for her? When was the last time I sat down and gave her a back rub? Or snuggled on the couch and watched a movie? This wonderful woman gives so much for me, and I don't give it back.
"What's wrong Jay?" she asks. I look into those eyes again. There is a question in them, a subtle worry. She's probably thinking she did something wrong, or somesuch like that. It's not her at all. It's me.
"If I tell you, I'll be breaking my promise of staying normal tonight," I say reluctantly. I have no idea what she's going to say. She wanted this to be a special night, where we could put our Legion duties aside. But I can't bring myself to lie and say otherwise.
"If it's that important, then tell me," she says, and reaches out to take my hand on the table. I sigh deeply.
"It's just, I'm starting to realize how unfair I've been to you. You want a relationship, and half the time I'm off doing a maintenance check on a LairJet or something. I love being a Legionnaire. And I can't stop helping people. But…I've been so unfair to you, and, I have no time for me, or, for anyone! I was sitting here, trying to think of something to talk about that wasn't related to the Legion, or superpowers, or…all of that stuff! And I couldn't! I could not do it! And all you want is…me. To spend time with me! It makes me feel so special, yet so horrible. How can you even put up with me?" I hang my head in shame, and tell myself I'm not going to cry, I'm not. How could I have done this to her? To the woman I love?
I feel her hand tighten on mine, and I look up. She's sitting there with tears in her eyes. Great, now I've made her cry. I'm such an idiot! Where's a supervillain to punch when you…there I go again! My solution to problems involves superpowers! Involves fighting!
"I know how important the Legion is to you. You've made it your life. And I will admit that, yes, I want to spend more time with you. I love you, Jay. Your desire to help others is what makes you so special! I love you for that, but other times I resent it because you leave to help others, while I sit alone. I dunno, maybe it's selfish, but I want you all to myself. I know that can never happen, but I still want to try and live a normal life with you! I want to help people too, but we can't help everyone! You never seem to realize that. You want to help everyone, and I do love you for that. But you have to realize that it can' t be done. It just can't!" she breaks down crying now. I get out of my chair and go to her and hug her. Nobody could pry my arms from her, nobody. I hold her there, and we both cry, letting it all out. This has been a long time coming, I realize that now.
I need to make time for her, for me. I'm a person too. Maybe it's time I did grow up a bit and do as she says. I want to help everyone, but, it can't be done. But I can still make a difference! Maybe…maybe there are other ways I can make a difference. Ways that let me be with Whitney! I put it aside for now, however, and just hold her.
"Whit, how would you like to get out of here, and let me escort the most beautiful woman I've ever known for a moonlight walk through Off-Central Park, and then snuggle up on the couch and watch a romantic movie?" She looks up at me, and smiles. She stands, and takes her purse up from it's place hanging from her chair.
"I would love nothing better," she says. Just then, the waiter comes up with the wine. I tell him we're leaving, and give him a fifty to cover the wine and for filling the table and not using it. Still cheaper than dinner would be, eh?
I escort Whitney down the stairs, and lead her outside. Arm and arm, we stroll through the night, wondering where we will go from here.
--Writer's Note
I would like to take a moment to explain the title. Hatman and Sorceress have been together for a long time. They were happy in the beginning, and still are, but Sorceress was growing tired of Hatman's obsession with his Legion duties. "Circle of Love" refers to how they have now come, for lack of a better term, full circe, where they are confronting this problem, and prepare to start anew. And believe me, you guys have no idea what's coming next! (excluding the Line-Up team and Sorceress, of course)
~Hat~
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