CHAPTER NINE...

The whole town seemed to be there. It was a light drizzle, but the weather report said sun would appear later in the day. Most people were carrying umbrellas, making the scene a sea of black domes, stretching far and wide.

The news crews were maintaining a respectful distance, even the national outlets. The local paper had tried to send someone in to get graveside pictures, but Grandma-Mom had nearly torn his head off and he'd run away spewing apologies. It was the first time she'd spoken in two days. Mom-mom and the girls were all crying, but Grandma-Mom had kept her stoic resolve as she had whenever else tragedy had struck the family.

The Bishop had offered to do the service, but they'd insisted on keeping the family preacher who'd known Gil since birth. (Sesides, they weren't Catholic. Amy, Gil's oldest sister, had referred to the Bishop as a publicity-hound.) Dressed in a simple suit rather than his vestments, the Bishop still attended, standing silently by the grave.

The funeral home had offered the Woods family one of their most expensive caskets, but they'd declined the offer, preferring to stay with a simple pine box. Gil had glowed, they explained, but he was never flashy.

At ten AM sharp, the Reverend cleared his throat and began to speak.

While she had wanted to attend as her everyday self, Peggy knew that this would seem odd. Nobody would know why miss everyday Peggy Potter was at the funeral of such a well-loved figure. On the other hand, as his sidekick and friend, the absence of Cosmic Girl would have looked strange. True, they had been friends for mere weeks, and done very little in the way of showy public heroics, but she had been at his side when he died. Literally. She had to be there when he was laid to rest.

So, there she was, in full costume. She stood amidst the graveside mourners, and tried to be the brave, stoic hero. She completely failed, of course, and sobbed into her handkerchief during the whole of the proceedings. Later, she fully expected that the press would hunt her down. She was fully prepared to melt their recording devices. Some people were even worse than the blatant villains.

Ch’rava thanked her lucky stars that she was able to attend as White Lynx as opposed to Diana. The paper had decided that only sending one person would be the polite thing to do, and they had chosen Greg for the job. Normally a bit of a grump, he had cleaned up well. If she hadn’t known him better, she might have thought it was for the sake of appearances, but considering how distraught he’d been at the news, she knew it was out of respect for the fallen hero.

Lynx herself sat off to the side of the other funeral-goers, covered in bandages and bruises, clearly still recovering from the fatal fight. As one experienced in pretending to be something she wasn’t, Lynx looked every bit as morose and solemn as the next. Inside, she fumed. She was ticked. At the villains who had done this, yes, but also at herself. She had had an opportunity to make sure there were more people at that stake-out, but she hadn’t. And in the fight itself, she had been beyond useless. There had to have been something more she could’ve done, but she had failed him. She knew she had to steel herself, let the mission come first. But still this failure consumed her.

Nearby, near the feet of Gil's mother, Scraps sat like a good boy ... but he was sad, and confused, occasionally giving a little whine.

Scraps had lost all his zest and playful energy since Gil had been killed, and even now he just sat quietly, occasionally giving a little whine.

He'd spotted White Line and Cosmic Girl, and he'd nearly got up to walk slowly over to them, but the sads meant he didn't have the energy.  So he just sat, occasionally giving a little whine.
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The first thump was hardly noticeable, and anyone who heard it dismissed it as someone else's problem. Then came another, and even the reverend stumbled a bit mid-word as he was caught off-guard by the sudden noise. Murmurings of confusion began to spread through the crowd.

The third thump caused the coffin to jump in place. The crowd fell silent.

Gil's fingers popped through the wood and splayed in both directions, gaining a grip. He tore the lid open, bathing the scene in his signature golden glow, and stood up in his own coffin. Willing himself to fly, he hovered out into the empty space immediately next to the coffin and settled gracefully to the ground.

"He is risen!" shouted the reverend.

"I am?" Goodwill asked.

“Bark, Bark, Bark”, Scraps proclaimed, as he leapt forward.
Running towards Gil, the puppy leapt up into GoodWill’s arms in explosive excitement.

Cosmic Girl just stared, her jaw dropped. This was most definitely not what she expected. Back from the dead... She was absolutely lost for words. And actions. And almost everything else. She just let out a small, long squeaking noise as her brain and voice tried to synch up again.

Wait. What? But wasn’t he dead? Did...did humans not die? Wait, no, that was stupid. Humans died. She wouldn’t have just missed something that huge. Besides, Diana was dead. Unless she wasn’t now, but no, she was dead. But Goodwill was also dead! Did humans have several lives perhaps? Brin only had the one. If she died, would people realize she wasn’t human because she didn’t come back the first time?

Lynx’s previous stoic face now crumbled into a confused sort of twitching as she tried to wrap her head around this new discovery.

"Hey boy," Gil said, catching his best friend in mid-leap. "I missed you, too."

He was confused more than anything else — how had this happened? — but there was a wash of other emotions to also contend with. There was his mother and grandmother and his five sisters, his uncles and aunts, his countless cousins... and half the city of Lincoln by the look of things. Any number of women, and more than a few men, had fainted. News crews were getting antsy and pushing their way through to talk to the resurrected hero. It was a madhouse, and it was all because of him.

And there with his family... White Lynx and Cosmic Girl? That was really touching.

"Did we win?" he asked them.

“Uuuuuuuuuhm, kiiind of? Blackjack is in custody, we’re trying to look info that note, the chemical men went down, and now it seems like...none of us are dead? It’s more of a win than it felt like a minute ago.”

The press went wild.

...And Goodwill felt great.

Since his powers seemed to be connected to everyone liking him... It seemed like everyone feeling so sorry for his death healed him up and brought him back, and everyone hearing that he was back brought him from "not dead, but actually awake" to "perfectly healthy (even for him)!"

So now it was back to NYC, back to trying to use the note to track down this Dr. Norwood guy...

(How shall y'all proceed...?)

The sponsors hadn't cancelled his lease yet, and the landlord hadn't boxed up his possessions. Gil came home with Scraps and they could settle right back in as though nothing had happened. But something had happened, and it was beyond Gil's comprehension. He had come back from the dead. That had to mean something, didn't it? Immortality didn't just happen.

He'd given his address to White Lynx and Cosmic Girl, asking them to come by and discuss next steps. There was still a case to solve, and a mad scientist of some sort to stop. But hopefully there was time to take a shower before they arrived. He'd showered a lot in the couple of days since the abortive funeral, as though he needed to wash his grave off of himself. They hadn't buried him, but he still felt indelibly dirty by the experience.

Stripping down, he went and turned on the water, trusting Scraps to bark if someone came to the door. When the water was hot enough, he stepped into the shower and closed his eyes, letting the water stream down his face and chest.

Why was he immortal? Why did he have any powers in the first place? Was this an act of God? If so, was God telling him that his work wasn't done yet?

Was God telling him that his work wouldn't be done, ever?

In the days following the funeral, Ch’rava had gotten even better. There were still some sore bits here and there, but she was confident that she could do her night job now without any real impact on the work. She had to stop getting into so many painful dangers though. She wasn’t Goodwill, with his weird “coming back from the dead” deal. Luckily, she had also managed to spend those past couple days double-checking her research and yes, immortality, even limited immortality, was not a normal human attribute. Thank the gods for that!

Still, there was a job to do now that she was better. In full White Lynx garb, she headed on her way over to Goodwill’s address and gave his door a polite and firm knock.

He heard the knock over the sound of the water, shaking him out of his reverie. That was one good thing about the thin walls in this place, at least. He turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around his waist, grabbed a second towel, and started towards the front door while vigorously drying his hair.

Halfway to the front door, he eyed the clock in the living room. Was it really that late? He'd been standing in the shower for nearly half an hour!

He draped the second towel over his shoulders and down his chest as he reached the door. He opened the door to find White Lynx (whom he generally preferred to simply call Lynx).

"Hey," he said. "Don't mind the towels. I lost track of time in the shower. Come in and make yourself at home, and I'll go throw on some clothes."

Lynx professionally gave Goodwill a nod and strode into the fellow hero’s home, making a specific point to ignore the man’s state of undress. He was probably going through a lot at the moment and she had no business in criticizing someone upping their water bill for the sake of some thinking time, or whatever he was doing. Not her business. What was her business, on the other hand...

“Take all the time you need. Wouldn’t do to investigate this note in the nude. It might look like you were just here as eye-candy.”

This was, of course, said in perfect seriousness, making it difficult to tell if Lynx had been going for some sort of joke or if she assumed that would be a serious concern. That was half the fun.

The sudden appearance of a VWORPPPP!!! noise announced the arrival of Cosmic Girl, who landed outside the house, and rushed forwards... and managed to not tackle Goodwill to the floor with a hug, but only due to the application of a lot of willpower.

"Ahem. Well. You are looking well, all things considered."

And damp. Also looking damp.

Gil smiled at Cosmic Girl's arrival, and waved her in as well.

"I'm really glad to see the two of you," he said, closing the door behind them. He adjusted his towel, making sure it wasn't about to slip off, and then turned to his guests. "I was very touched when I saw you'd come to my funeral. You two and half of Nebraska. I gotta say, it's almost embarrassing."

But so was walking around in a towel, so he headed for his bedroom.

"Like I was saying, you two make yourselves at home and I'll be out in a minute. With clothes."