Dont Be a Hero

Fruitless Research

Jackson searched file after file. He looked for cases that made any mention of time alteration. Anything that contained reports of memory loss and confusion. He looked for anything at all that could be linked to someone messing with time. He couldn't imagine what one could do with that kind of power.

Jackson noticed that while there were many reports of heroism and good deeds, so far there were none that suggested that anyone was using superhuman abilities for evil purposes. He knew better than to believe that only decent people had access to these capabilities. It wouldn't jive with the balance of things. Where there was good, there had to be evil. That was just the way the universe worked.

He had a theory about why there were no "villains" as of yet. He figured that the vigilante people took care of their own. That if one of them started doing things that went against the good of mankind, the others put a stop to it. He had suspicions that this "vigilante superhero" thing was more organized than anyone knew. He was also beginning to wonder how far up it went. If people who possessed superhuman abilities really existed, anyone out there might be one of them.

He was about an hour into his research sitting with his back toward the entrance of the evidence room when something shifted in the atmosphere. A familiar cooling of the air around him. His head popped up and two very cold, tiny hands covered his eyes.

"Guess who?" Macy sang, sounding a bit like a canary who had learned how to speak. Jackson winced.

Without turning around he replied, "Uhhhh... Minnie Mouse?"

"No, silly! It's me!" She giggled, removing her hands and turning him to face her. "See?"

He feigned shock when his eyes landed on her. "Wow, I had no idea. How'd you trick me like that?"

She shrugged and giggled again. "Talented, I guess."

She seemed completely oblivious to him rolling his eyes as she looked around at the papers scattered everywhere. "Whatcha lookin for, sweetie? Need some help?"

"As a matter of fact, you could give me a hand," he replied before stopping and looking at her with his brows furrowed. "Hey, how'd you come across that information, anyways?"

"What information, darling?" she asked, bouncing around him and scooping up some files. "What shall I look for?"

"Anything to do with time alteration. And that information!" he growled, impatiently. How could she have forgotten the little tidbit she had sprung on him that caused him to come down here in the first place?

Macy looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and innocent. "Oh, Jackson, was that important to you? About the new guy and his time thing? I'm sorry, darling. I would have told you about it a week ago. I overheard someone in another department talking, but it was just a rumor, so I didn't say anything."

Jackson opened his mouth to speak, but she continued.

"But then, I thought maybe it would be helpful if I looked into it for you. So I did. Last night I did some research and read a bunch of stuff that brought me to the conclusion that he's probably bending time. It's simple really. If you take everything people have reported about him, then cross reference it all with physics and....."

"Enough!" Jackson barked, stopping her tirade. She squeaked and closed her mouth, staring at him.

"Just... give me the short version, please!" He rubbed his temples. Why did her voice have to give him a headache?

"Well, I can't be absolutely certain without studying him in person, but in short, sweetheart, I believe the man can bend time." She jumped down from her perch on the table where he had laid out all the files. "Well, I think I'll run over to the salon while you finish up here. The air down here takes the life right out of my hair!" She had her compact out gazing at her reflection as she patted at her already perfect platinum curls. "You call me on my cell when you've finished, my love. I'll be back in a flash!" She kissed him quickly on the cheek and before he could say another word, she was sashaying out the door with her hips swinging, humming another one of her tuneless tunes.

Once again, Jackson was left flabbergasted by his outrageous partner.

She didn't really tell me anything, did she? He asked himself, staring after her.

He spent the better part of the rest of that day searching through files and pulling stuff up on the internet. He hoped to come to some sort of conclusion about this "Father Time" character. The whole thing was consuming him. When he set his mind to find out about something, he could never let it go. The fact that he always felt like he was making progress, but only a tidbit at a time and always at someone else's discretion, frustrated him to no end.

Maybe I should plan another all-nighter, he thought to himself. He had done it a couple of times but nothing happened. He had driven around to the various "hot spots" hoping he would catch a glimpse, but everything had been quiet on those nights. All-night stake outs were not his favorite thing to do. It always took at least a week for him to recover from losing one night of sleep. He was already feeling like lack of sleep was taking its toll on him.

..........

That evening, Jackson walked Macy to her car like he always did. He felt like going and having a beer. He needed to think and a beer sounded like a great way to unlock his brain. Macy turned and gazed up at him.

"Darling, promise me you'll get a good night's sleep," she said, looking genuinely worried. "You seem so tired and you are meaner when you're tired."

He nodded at her, half listening, as he helped her into her little silver Miata. It was a cute little car and it fit her perfectly. It was convertible but he imagined she probably never put the top down. He couldn't see her allowing the wind to mess up her perfectly styled hair. He gave her a nod and a tight grin as he closed the door on her before she could start talking again.

He stood back and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot and sped off like the wind. Her fast driving always worried him. That car didn't offer much protection if she were ever to get in a wreck. He didn't allow his mind to go any further down that road and instead turned and ambled over to where he had parked his truck.

His truck was the yin to his partner's yang. It was as big as her's was small. He drove a Chevy Silverado. He was grateful for his truck when he moved to L.A. and found out how people drove. At least if he wrecked, the truck gave him a good chance of survival. In turn, the maniac driver who ran into him would be in a sorry state. Unless it happened to be one of the maniac semi drivers. Or one of those ridiculously overpriced and impractical Hummers.

He climbed in and started the engine, deciding to just head home. He could grab a six pack on the way. He had thought that going to a bar for a beer might prove fruitful. People usually talk about stuff at bars and maybe he could have asked some questions.

Instead, his heavy eyes told him he had better just head home. He would look into a few things before falling asleep. He arrived at his apartment just before 9pm. He finished one beer and had cracked open another when his head fell back and he began to snore loudly, sitting up on the couch with his laptop open.

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