Midnight

The second straight day of sizzling temperatures is coming to a close – and thank goodness for that. There are only a few drops of water left among the three jugs I brought along for work today.

Fortunately, that has been the only 'excitement' to occur today. Yesterday was enough of a rush when Midnight saved my ass from that coyote. Surprisingly, she hasn't teased me about it or brought it up since that event occurred. It remains an option I'm fine with because everything turned out okay in the end. I really don't know if I could have gotten back to the truck in time, and I can only hazard a guess that a bite would have been an injection of rabies...

I already know where our final parts run is going to lead us, as I mentally circled it and left it for last this afternoon. All we have left is an upper A-arm suspension piece for a Triumph Spitfire. It's an area I don't often visit for parts, but more significantly – it's where Midnight was initially dumped in the yard. The import section.

The collection of bots and other scrap she arrived with has been buried in a pit for a couple of months now, but I know that doesn't necessarily mean Midnight's aversiveness to the area will be buried with it. I have to imagine there's a lot of emotion tied just to the sights of the area – the first sight of freedom, and the first sight of a struggle to 'adapt and survive,' as Midnight said her motto to live by was while out here.

I ease onto the brake pedal as the Trailduster comes to the fork of the aisle we were on and the main path – left toward the back of the yard, and right to head back to the shop. Midnight looks as warm and weary as I feel, but the unannounced stop causes her to perk up in the passenger seat and glance around.

"This doesn't look like my stop," she comments rather playfully, turning to face me. "What gives?"

"I figured I should stop and mention the last area we need to go before heading there, Middie," I answer her in a subdued tone. "It's the import area."

Any upbeat mood within her sags as much as her ears do in the instant the last two words leave my lips. Even so, Midnight's face hardens, trying to keep a stoic face that prevents any emotion from poking through. It's that tough facade again. But I know better than that – there's dread and hesitance behind it. There's deep-seated pain behind those icy blue eyes.

"I'm not saying you can't handle going back there – especially now that the... reminders— they've been buried for a month or two now. I'm stopping to give you the option to head back to the shop if you would rather not visit that area."

"Alright... but what about next time?" she asks, matching my calm tone of voice.

"Next... what next time?" I ask, a little lost in regard to her thoughts.

"The next time we have to get parts out there. I get it's rare that we need anything from the imports, but sooner or later, we will."

"You want to face this now, rather than later."

"Avoiding it doesn't solve the issue behind the aversion, does it?" she proposes with an accompanying shrug. "It may not be as awful without the... 'reminders,' as you put it."

"I just wanted to give you the option," I reply, patting her on the withers in reassurance. "I'm good with whatever you decide to do."

"Then away we go," Midnight answers, nodding her head toward the left path. I ease my foot off the brake and turn the steering wheel, giving the throttle a light blip as we set off for the final job together.

"You really made sure to dance around that suggestion, didn't you?" Midnight comments. I turn to look at her, finding a trace of amusement easing her lips into a hint of a grin.

"I just wanted to be as neutral as possible. I know you aren't a puss that can't handle something like this," I explain, momentarily pausing for a rut in the trail we bounce through. "But you're not an emotionless hardass, either."

Midnight has no response, preferring to turn and look straight ahead once again. For the ensuing few minutes, only the engine of the truck and the occasional sound of parts in the back shifting about offer any soundtrack to the cab of the Trailduster. I consider turning on the radio but decide to leave it silent as well.

I know Midnight can handle this, but I still worry about her. Even with as far as she's come, old wounds can be hard to heal. I don't want tonight to turn into a night of prematurely tearing off bandages. But Midnight knows best. I think she's come far enough now that if this excursion really bothered her, she would have sat out and headed for home.

Hell, she's made progress in just a day; while I still don't understand Midnight's embarrassment that prevented her from flight, yesterday's events forcing her into action and my encouragement has led to a couple of occasions today where I spied her graceful form taking to the air. Maybe a better understanding behind that discomfort will come in time. Like tonight, that's a decision for her to make when she feels ready.

"I do appreciate you being... thoughtful on how to approach this situation," Midnight speaks up. "You know, acknowledging I am strong enough to do this, but... offering to leave it for another day."

I turn to look at Midnight, feeling my heart melt at the way her ears are flipped back and set low as well as the awkward smile she currently sports.

"No problem, Middie," is all I can come up with for a response. But as her eyes dart to what lies ahead of us, the moment and her adorable expression slip away.

Just ahead in the path is a T – the end of the line that signifies the imports and miscellaneous junk I've accrued over the years; I hang a left when we hit the junction. The rows of cars out here are further spaced apart, and often in clusters of cars sorted out by particular manufacturer geographical origin rather than by pure make as everywhere else.

"Do you know what a Triumph Spitfire looks like, Mid?" I question. "That's what we're after. This isn't particularly well-organized way out here."

"Mmm... vaguely. I'm sure once I put eyes on it, I'll know it," she answers, peering out her window for our target. "But if you had brought the laptop, I could tell you exactly where it is."

"If I brought the laptop, eh? The thing I hardly get to use anymore because it's always in use by you?"

"...shut up."

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought," I crow back at her.

"I'm letting you be a chewtoy for the next coyote you piss off."

Triumphs and other British machinery do not start appearing until we're closing in on the circular area that denotes the end of the trail – and the miscellaneous dumping spot. Minis, Midgets, and a couple of Rovers pass by before encountering a few Dolomites, some TR roadsters— And finally, the low-slung Spitfires.

Not a stone's throw away from these sports cars lays a large area of earth that still shows some tread marks and uneven mounds of sand where scrap was laid to rest not long ago. But my focus remains on our candidates for an A-arm – and one particular Spitfire in bright yellow is already propped up on some tires with the front wheels, brakes, and a spindle taken away. Only the upper and lower A-arms and spring remain on the driver's side – the side that I'm after.

"Hell, it looks like we lucked out. I just gotta get fortunate with the bolts that go into the frame and we're out of here," I cheer to Midnight.

Midnight nods in agreement, but her focus lies elsewhere. Those icy blue eyes are locked firmly upon the disturbed ground nearby.

I know Midnight can do this, but I should let her have some time alone. Rather than push her to talk, I throw the truck into park and kill the engine.

Even as I pop open my door and climb out, Midnight does not stray her sight from that mound of dirt or speak a word. Once I open the tailgate and start rummaging for tools, I hear the creak of the passenger door open and then close, followed shortly thereafter by the appearance of Midnight at my side.

"You good" I ask.

"Yeah," she murmurs, pausing for a deep breath. "I'm good."

I leave her statement at that, only offering a nod as we make our way out to the Triumph. It isn't a long walk, but I watch out of the corner of my eye as Midnight takes in a few lengthy stares at certain areas nearby.

I kneel down on the sandy ground and get to work, feeling relieved that the bolts on the A-arm don't look too corroded at first glance. Nevertheless, it takes a few silent minutes of spraying penetrating oil on the bolts and some muscle behind a breaker bar to crack everything loose.

All the while, Midnight fidgets beside me, continuing to take in the sights around us.

"A lot of unpleasant memories, huh?" I finally speak up.

Midnight's attention darts to me in an instant, as if she had forgotten I've been here the whole time. "This place is... burned into my memory in a way," she replies slowly. "It's just as I remember, minus the junkpile. Just the shock of it made an imprint, I guess – it surprises me how much of it I remember."

"The shock of ending up here?"

"Everything," she answers back, fanning out her wings to gesture at our surroundings. "I had never seen the outside until that moment in time when I crawled out of the scrap heap. I knew the lab wasn't what those people made it out to be, but aside from some vague idea of what lay beyond the walls based on those chips in my head..." Midnight's voice trails off at that.

"Did it spook you seeing all of these cars at first? At least, until you sorta figured out what they were?"

Midnight can't help but scoff at my inquiry, vehemently shaking her head. "I knew what they were. Like many things I encounter, it's like a light switch goes off – I could identify them and their purpose at a glance. Like I said before, the chips have a lot of information on em that is just... there."

I'm sort of lost on what else to say at this point. It doesn't sound like she's dealing with any sort of particularly painful emotions or memories – it's merely seeing this sight again and being blindsided by how closely it matches what she remembers. With my last order pull still requiring much of my focus and effort, some time passes before I speak up again to break a short silence.

"I never did hear how you got out of there," I comment. It's been something I've wondered for a while on and off but now seems as good of a time as any to find out. As the hardest work is done and I'm merely unthreading the bolts out of the frame by hand, I turn my head to look at Middie.

Initially, she just offers me a shrug, silence continuing to prevail for a while longer. "Not much to really say about it," she answers after a short spell of inflection. "Give someone enough time, misery, and means to manipulate it, one can figure out how to fuck with a lock – even an electronically actuated latch. I don't think anyone anticipated what I could do with my electromagnetic abilities. I sure as hell didn't let them know everything I could do. A lot of times, at what I would assume was the night shift with so few people around, I'd practice how to move things, and get the hang of fine control."

I can't quite put my finger on it, but Midnight's explanation feels... off. Not in the sense that she's lying about it – but something that feels off to her about the escape. Nevertheless, I've finally freed the last fastener holding the A-arm to the frame and wrench it out of the wheel well for Midnight to see.

But at this point, Midnight is looking off... somewhere.

"You sure you're okay?" I press her.

"I'd still like to know who took pity on me," she says aloud.

"What do you mean 'pity'?"

"The only reason I decided it was time to leave was someone conveniently dropped a document from the project file in my room. I don't think it was by accident, and it let me know my project was being... 'terminated,' she explains, emphasizing that last word just as her eyes snap to me. "I got to a point where I stopped caring about who was dealing with me – I didn't give anyone the satisfaction of learning who they were, their faces... so I don't know who left that paper on the floor."

"Maybe it was your... er, project manager? Seeing everything you went through start to finish?"

Much to my surprise, Midnight bursts out into laughter – but not a happy, joyous sound. It is a cackle soaked in bitterness. "He would have been the last one to help me!" she exclaims. "That miserable asshole was 'stuck' with me the whole time! I started out as his personal project idea to fiddle with possible new avenues of research and development down the line – more importantly, a way to make himself look good and innovative for promotion to something bigger in the company. It was never about me – I was just a possible springboard to be used and tossed when he got what he wanted."

With that, Midnight loses her tall and stoic posture, her shoulders sagging along with her head and ears. "It got to a point where I think he was hoping it would... end. That one of the experiments wouldn't be successful – that I wouldn't survive one of em, develop complications. Because from what I overheard from idle chatter, higher-ups were interested in what he was doing – but wanted to keep him with me to see what else he could accomplish, rather than move him up and require a replacement for head of my project. Granted, I wasn't that nice toward him – I was being put through hell for someone else's gain. But I think he really started to hate me because me being alive was keeping him there."

"His fucking loss, Midnight," I chide, rising to my knees and reaching over to embrace her around the neck. "Fuck those people – even if they did indirectly lead you to me. They'll never know what they truly lost."

Midnight is more than willing to yield, resting her chin on my shoulder as she creeps closer to me. "That was sort of lame, but I think you might have a point," she mumbles. It's a mumble that comes with a sense of lightness out of Middie. I can feel her relax in my arms, letting something go that's been held deep inside for far too long.

"I know I have a point, as corny as it sounds. And I know I'm right, too," I tell her, adding a few pats on her back for extra affection. For a few moments longer, I hold her in my arms – up until Midnight pulls away.

"I think I've held onto the past long enough," she muses before sidestepping me. I turn around as I rise to my feet, finding Midnight strutting toward the uneven earth demarking the burial pit. I follow her lead, joining her side in the center of the area by the time she halts.

Midnight's eyes burrow into the dirt beneath our feet for a time before she finally looks up again, out toward the horizon. "All of that bitterness and anger I had. It drove me forward for a long time. It helped me to endure, figure things out, and stay alive. But it's not really helping me anymore, is it?" she asks.

"No, I don't think it is. It's good to remember where you came from. It's good that you had a drive to keep yourself going, but... I think you're ready to move on."

"I am."

With that abbreviated agreement, I watch as Midnight sinks a hoof into the sand, pulling it back to leave a divot in the ground.

"What's that?"

"Reassuring myself I'm burying a part of my life that's overdue for a final resting place," she exhales, pushing the coppery sands back into the hole and patting them down even with the immediate surroundings. "I have a lot to be thankful for since the last time I was here."

With a nod of finality, she tilts her head to look at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. There's no longer any turmoil swirling behind them, begging to be unloaded. I think tonight is a night Midnight has been working toward for a while, and while there might still be a few bumps in the road...

She's ready to focus on the here and now.

"Come on, let's go home," Midnight says with a serene smile as she brushes my side with a wing. I turn and join her, stride for stride as we pick up the tools and the part we came here for, and pile back into the truck.

Maybe tonight calls for a nice little fire. Maybe it just calls for some quiet time on the couch. Perhaps a bit of work on the Chrysler?

I don't know – but I know Midnight and I will be doing it together.