Key Player

by Jane Davitt




It was a dark and stormy night, rain tumbling down from the sky, gravity and wind fighting to change its direction. Simon stood beside his car, keys in hand, and forgot what more haste meant; one impatient fumble and the keys fell into the gutter, already swirling with water.

He sighed and peered down, wondering tiredly why the streetlight he was parked under was the only one on the street not working, something that hadn't been apparent at noon when he'd left it there.

Still, it couldn't be too hard to find them, right?

He bent, raindrops trickling coldly down the back of his neck, and managed to kick the keys, that had been on the sidewalk all the time, into the gutter where he'd mistakenly assumed they'd landed.

Well, wasn't that just perfect.

Not for the first time, he wondered how it would feel to be Jim, capable, Simon assumed, of staring down into inky, wet darkness, and seeing the gleam of metal as clearly as if it was broad daylight.

Handy. Very handy.

Simon didn't have Jim's eyes, but, then, he didn't really need them. He had a secret weapon of his own.

"Daryl? A little help here?"

Daryl smirked at him from the store doorway he was sheltering in. "Forget it, Dad. You dropped them; you get wet finding them."

"Find them, and you can drive."

"Seriously? For real? Cool!"

Simon smiled and stepped back, turning the collar of his coat up in a vain attempt to stay dry. Daryl scrabbled in the cold and dirty water for the keys, going to his knees to reach under the car, and then stood, triumphant and damp.

"That's my boy," Simon said fondly.

Sometimes, you didn't need a superhero. Just a button to push.


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