It was just about two weeks after Prismatic had suddenly left Alphateam. The skunk still hadn't recovered from what happened, despite the brave face he tried put on things - but it showed in his photography, and his worsening attitude and demeanor. Uriel still alternated between anger and grief, with seemingly random things causing outbursts of crying or rage. 

His friends at Alphateam had tried to talk to him, but found found themselves pushed away, cut out from his life. Hurt by Uriel's lashing out, they withdrew and left the skunk alone. It seemed that Uriel was stuck in a downward spiral with no good result at the end.

Only two people on the planet - Uriel and Smiling Bob - knew what had happened, but Alphateam's handler Daniel Mossburg was pretty certain what went down. Uriel's behavior wasn't just from feeling like he had been kicked out from the superhero group, but Daniel couldn't approach the skunk. Not directly, not with what had already been said between those two before Daniel started to guess there was more to the story than just Uriel wanting to spend more time with his studio.

Daniel fucked that one up, and he blamed himself for it. His options were limited, and he felt responsible for Uriel's current state. Handlers were supposed to be aware of this sort of thing and nip it in the bud. He'd keep a watchful eye on Smiling Bob, but didn't dare mention anything in the official reports. Bob had too many friends in high places, and was too popular with the public. 

16 days after whatever happened that night, 15 days after Uriel tendered his resignation to Daniel and left Alphateam in a shouting row with the handler, 2 days after Uriel nearly lost it and almost used his powers on a civilian, an hour after Daniel had realized he was out of options, he picked up a phone and dialed a number.

"Hey, Uncle Scott. I got a favor to ask - yeah, it's to do with work. No, I can't do it myself, its a bit - no, not dangerous. I wouldn't ask if it was. Just, Aunt Jean... Yeah, that. I can foot the bill and other expenses, I just need you to-"

-----

Two hours later in the back of dimly lit art studio, Uriel lay in a cot. The skunk contemplated his hands, raised above his face and palms facing him. 

[i]One blast ought to do it[/i], he thought to himself. [i]Right through the eye, fry the brain faster than he could recoil in pain. A nice neat way of suicide. No mess, no problems, no worries.[/i] He wondered why he hadn't done it already. Uriel knew he was falling into a dark place, and was too dangerous to be left to his own devices once there.

Rage and Grief warred within him, fighting for what hadn't already been claimed by the numbing effects of Depression. Uriel desperately missed his friends, but nobody would have believe him. They weren't his friends anymore anyhow, not after what he said to them. He didn't deserve friends. 

The grey nothingness in his soul pushed out the other emotions. Uriel was tired. Tired of being angry, tired of being sad, tired of being tired. He started at his paws, which slowly began to glow with energy. The world began to fall away, and Uriel closed his eyes as the power in his hands built up, already imagining the bliss of oblivion.

The bliss of oblivion was shattered by his studio phone ringing. Concentration shattered, the light on the skunk's paws dissipated instantly. Uriel opened his eyes and glared at the phone. Anger broke through the grey nothingness. How dare he be interrupted! What was left of his rational mind stilled his anger, then made the skunk answer the phone. Calmly. 

"Prismatic Photography, Uriel Photius speaking."

"Oh my, you sound younger than I thought!" the surprised voice of an older woman came through, "I was expecting an older person, what with all those lovely photos on your website! I was telling Scott, 'Scott, look at this, this must be a master who has spent all his life on this', there was that lovely photo with the redwoods and the river, it seemed almost magical, it was quite lovely indeed!" A small smile spread on Uriel's face, despite himself. The Heart of Sequoia won a lot of awards and praise. It was one of his proudest photos.

The lady on the phone continued on, "But what I really loved were those farm fields you shot, they seem so mundane to people but as soon as I saw them, I just knew I had to call you for this little project I would love done." A note of worry came in, "Oh dear, I mean, I hope you still do outdoor photos and not just in the studio works - which are lovely, there was those funny picture with that dalmatian fellow, the expression on his face when that house of cards fell, well, I haven't laughed that hard in years!" the voice on the phone let out a small laugh, then paused. Uriel thought he heard coughing, but the voice returned.

"But yes, I do hope you can come out here! Scott has been such a dear but my husband, his thumb may be green and he tries well, but he just doesn't have the time! He's always off in the fields or doing some work, and I know little Gregory is coming to help this year but the poor dear told me he couldn't take a good photo to save his life, and when I saw those fields on your website, well, I just knew you were the right one!"

The voice finally paused and Uriel was able to get a word in, a small squeak, "Er. The right one for what, ma'am?"

The chipper voice returned, "Why, to photograph the farm, of course! Been my dream for years, let me tell you all about it..."

-----

Uriel couldn't understand why he said he would go check out the farm. That made the impression he would take on the project, but for some reason he couldn't say no outright to Mrs. Summers. He hedged it some, said that he wouldn't know what to charge, or if he could fit it into his schedule, but Jean Summers seemed to somehow perk up even more when Uriel said he would drive over the next morning.

Uriel didn't have anything on his schedule anyhow. He'd canceled everything the day before, when he nearly lost control. He'd been looking forward to some of shoots, but didn't trust himself to keep professional.

The Summers' farm was a half-day drive's away from the city, and a fairly easy drive. Uriel made a note of how there wasn't a sudden change in scenery, how the city gradually turned into suburbs, then more rural. He started to think of how he could show that in photos, planning a new project. It was just something to keep his mind off what was looming, he said.

Uriel pulled up in front of what he assumed to be the Summers's house, and was met by an energetic young border collie.

"Oh hey, you must be the guy Grandma J is expecting! I'm Greg Summers, pleased to meet you!" The collie stuck out his paw, and Uriel gingerly grasped it, and quickly found worries about his own strength were unmatched as his hand was nearly crushed by the enthusiastic canine.

Greg eventually let go of Uriel's hand and cheerfully barked, "Hey, come on in, I'll bring you to Grandma J!" Uriel waited until Greg had turned and walked towards the house before shaking his hand and following. The collie had a pretty strong grip, he mused. He started to really look at Greg, but then something in him shouted and he shut down the train of thought entirely.

Stepping into the farmhouse, Uriel first noticed all the photo frames on the walls, covering every available space. The photos were old, but were artistically done. He whistled softly as he looked around; whoever had done these had quite the talent and eye.

Greg turned and said, "Yeah, Grandma took all those; Grandpa Scott made the frames." Seeing the skunk's face show confusion, he quickly added on, "Those were years ago, and... er." The collie's tail stopped wagging and his years drooped. "You'll see," he continued in a more subdued voice, "She's just upstairs."

Still confused, Uriel followed Greg up the narrow staircase and down a short hallway. The young collie knocked on the door, "Grandma J, the photographer guy is here!"

"Oh, Greg, just in time! I was about to take my medication, why don't you show the dear in?" a chipper voice came through the door. Greg opened the door and Uriel stepped in, inwardly gasping. 

In his mind, the skunk had built a mental image of Jean Summers as a traditional grandmother, children grown and spoiling their kids rotten, baking cookies and cakes, probably knitting or scrapbooking, a cheerful smile on her face.

He did not expect the life support equipment, the IV drip, the wasted and limp left arm, the missing legs.  He didn't expect to see the scaring and matting visible on her face, and the long healed ruins of one eye.

"Oh, well aren't you adorable! You must be Mister Photius, and oh is that hair natural - oh its none of my business what you young folk do down in the big city, and I hope it wasn't too long a drive, I haven't been in years but Scott tells me I'm not missing much anyhow. I hope this isn't too rural for you! Anyway, I have to take my meds and they'll put me to sleep for a few hours, why don't you have Greg show you to your room - I won't have a guest over and sleeping in that ratty motel in town, and it's too far for you to drive back to the city today if you're going to look at the farm - and then he can show you around the farm, since Scott had to go out to the fields..." The elderly border collie in the seemed to trail off.

Uriel swallowed and nodded, "Yes ma'am, I'll... get a good look and let you know."

June seems to come back to herself, "Oh, yes! I'll be awake for dinner, and we can chat more then! Now get along now, no need to gawk at an old lady sleeping!" she laughed. Uriel stepped out the room and closed the door, then closed his eyes.

He had gotten that cheerful smile down, though.