(410)

"Diomine," Gemma recited to herself. "Iocane, basic carbon, nitric acid."

"What's that?" asked Roy quietly.

"The recipe," she said. "For the anti-toxin."

"Sounds complicated," he said.

"It is," she said. They were silent.

"I called you last night."

"I didn't know that."

"I left messages."

"My phone is in my purse."

"Which you left at my place."

"After you got to talking about my glitzy ass."

He sighed.

"Look, Gem—"

"We're on a mission," she said quietly.

"I know," Roy said. "But do you think—when we get back—can we just—you know—"

"Talk?" she suggested. He nodded.

"Yeah."

She sighed.

"Yeah," she said. "That'd be nice."

Roy smiled. For a second, he thought she might smile back, too, but then it vanished and she turned her attention back to the tunnel.

"There it is," Roy whispered, ushering forward. There, in a tall, suspended glass chamber, the small vial of crystal clear toxin stood waiting.

"Red Arrow, take out the guards," Kaldur said. Roy shot a single sleeping gas arrow at the ground by the glass chamber. The three guards hit the ground like dead flies.

"Let's go," Roy said, taking Gemma's hand and running inside.

"Do it now, Alchemist," Kaldur said, punching the glass chamber and taking the vial, handing it to her. "We'll cover you."

"Diomine," Gemma whispered as Roy readied an arrow and pointed it at the door. "Iocane. Basic carbon, nitric acid. It's done," she said. Roy looked at the vial. It was empty.

'Teams A and B,' Kaldur said. 'The toxin has been neutralized. Retreat to the ship immediately. Be ready to pick us up as soon as we've planted the bomb.'

"Let's get out of here before Brick-Top figures it out," Roy said, leading the way to the door.

'We're onboard the bio-ship,' came Artemis's voice.

'We're within range,' came M'gann's voice. 'But we've triggered some kind of lockdown. Aqualad, get your team out of there before you're sealed in!'

"Alchemist, arm the bomb," Kaldur said. Gemma took the bomb and stuck it to the chamber, punching in keys quickly.

Aqualad hurried out to the hallway. Red Arrow followed him quickly. They turned to look at Gemma, who was getting to her feet.

"Bomb's armed," she said, hurrying to the entrance. But she stopped abruptly, as though she had hit her head on some invisible surface. Roy reached forward to take her hand, but his hand would go no further beyond the doorframe.

"The lockdown," Kaldur said. Roy pulled out an arrow and aimed at the invisible door. Gemma shook her head.

"Don't bother," she said. "It's impenetrable. That's not plexiglass."

"What do we do?" Roy wondered. "That bomb has less than five minutes!"

"Don't worry," she said. "There's another tunnel out of here. You get back on the ship."

"Can you get out before the timer runs out?" Kaldur asked. Gemma nodded.

"For sure. You bring the ship around the East sector. I'll be waiting there for you. Hurry up."

"Got it," Roy said, and he and Kaldur hurried away.

The run back was difficult, to say the least. For one thing, they encountered two guards on their way, and for another, they took at least three wrong turns. When they finally boarded the ship, Kaldur told them, breathlessly, to hurry around to the East sector.

"Where's Gem-?" began M'gann.

"East sector, she's waiting for us. Hurry, before the bomb goes off!" Kaldur said as Roy caught his breath. M'gann turned the ship around quickly, speeding back in the other direction.

Wally tapped on the screen, where a line of green numbers popped up.

"Three minutes," he said quickly. "Hurry, M'gann."

"Going as fast as I can," she said.

"Two thirty six," Wally said after a few beats.

"Arriving at the East sector," M'gann said.

"This place is huge!" Robin choked.

"Look at the tunnels!" Kaldur said. "Do you see her?"

"Two minutes," said Wally.

"There she is!"

"No, it's not!"

"That's a guard!"

"Shoot him! Shoot him now!"

"You missed!"

"Fuck, I've got it!"

"Nice shot!"

"One minute twenty seconds!"

"Wally, shut up!"

"There she is!"

"That's not her!"

"That's another guard!"

"Rocket, seal him in!"

"I can't, Gem might come out through there!"

"Someone shoot him!"

"I got it!"

"What the hell is keeping her?"

"One minute!"

"WALLY, SHUT UP!"

'Gemma, what is going on? There's a minute left!'

Silence.

"M'gann?"

"She's still in range."

"Why isn't she answering?"

'Gem? What's keeping you?'

Silence.

'GEMMA! WE BID YOU SPEAK THE FUCK UP!'

'Don't cuss at me, Wally, I'll castrate you.'

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine. Just...caught in a tough spot.'

'You need help?'

'No, it's fine. I'm already out and on my way.'

'Thirty seconds, Gem. Thirty.'

'I'll be there.'

'Hurry up, Gem.'

'I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming.'

'At this rate, we'll never get out of range of the blast-zone.'

'It's okay, Rocket can set up a force-field to block out the damage as soon as Gem's onboard.'

'What's going on, Gem?'

'Hang on, I'm coming.'

"Ten seconds," Wally said quickly.

'Gem, hurry.' Roy thought.

'It's okay, you guys. I'm coming.'

"Eight seconds," Wally said again.

'Gemma?' Artemis called in quiet terror.

'It's okay, it's okay,' came Gemma's voice. And then a laugh. 'It's fine, you guys. I'm so close I can hear you freaking out. It'll be one of those "nick of time" things like in the movies. We'll laugh about it in a minute.'

'Then hurry it up,' Robin thought anxiously. 'So we can laugh.'

"Five seconds," Wally said, his voice lowering.

'Gemma, please,' M'gann thought, fear dripping from her every word.

'Calm down, M'gann. It's fine. It's gonna be okay.'

"Three seconds," Wally almost whispered, crashing into his seat.

'It's gonna be okay,' Gemma thought. Another sweet laugh. 'It's gonna be okay.'

'Two seconds, Gemma,' thought Kaldur.

'I know. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay.'

"One," Wally said. A pause.

'You guys are gonna be okay.'

A pop was heard in the distance. It escalated into a 'boom', and Rocket raised her hands, putting a field around the bio-ship.

Bass beats like a German nightclub seated right in front of the speakers. That's all Roy could hear. It seemed like it might disappear, but it never did. Not for a moment. Rocket kept the field up. M'gann kept her fingers on Rocket's ears, forcing the sound out of her head to keep the force-field up. Zatanna rushed to help Rocket strengthen the field. Through all of this, Roy could only hear one more thing.

'Go home, you guys. You're gonna be okay.'

And that, with a nervous, shaky laugh, was the last thing he heard before the last of the asteroid exploded, and the telepathic connection went dead.

It took forever, it seemed, for the sounds to die out. Roy couldn't even tell what sort of sound it was. It was just that. Sound. Sounds that made him clutch at his head. Sounds that made Wally grip his ears and slide to the floor as blood poured out between his fingers. Sounds that made Robin faint and Rocket almost lose control of the force field for a few moments.

And when the sounds were finally over, the silence that was waiting for them was even worse.

'Gemma?' Artemis called timidly. No answer.

(23)

"Your form is too loose," Roy told her in the gym as she practiced hitting a punching bag. "You keep hitting it like that, you'll dislocate your wrist. Here,"

And Roy aimed a punch at the bag that sent it flying back across the room, hitting the other wall with a thud. Red Tornado looked at it quietly, then returned to his reading 'Alice In Wonderland'.

"I could never do that," Gemma said. "It's so...Artemis. And M'gann's lucky. With her powers she doesn't even need to touch things."

"Well, you need to learn this," Roy said. "Have a protein shake, put some meat on those bones."

Roy frowned at Gemma's petite, five foot one figure. She would need quite a few protein shakes.

"Meat," Gemma repeated, looking down at her flimsy arms. "Yeah. I guess."

"You've never punched a punching bag before, have you?" asked Roy.

"I've never even been in a gym before."

"You eat recklessly and you've never been in a gym. Why don't you have more rolls than a bakery?"

"I take yoga," Gemma said. "And ballet!" she added eagerly. "I take lots of ballet!"

"Well, ballet won't save you when you're facing someone like Sportsmaster or Rha's Al Goul," Roy said.

"Right. Sorry," Gemma said, her voice just a little bit lower. Roy frowned.

"Wait," he said. "Did you actually think that stuff would help?"

"I don't know," Gemma said shyly, fingering the fabric of the hem of her shirt. "I mean—doesn't that count as athletic?"

"Athletic? You call dancing athletic?" Roy asked, his brow rising. Gemma shrugged, shrinking away.

"I don't know," she said. "It might."

"It doesn't. It's dancing. Dancing and meditation won't help you out there, Cinderella. Shape up or ship out."

"Okay, Roy," Robin said loudly, dropping the dumbbell in his hand and coming forward. "I'll take it from here."

"You sure?" Roy asked.

"Positive. I can work with her. I think Connor might be having trouble with that new tackle. Black Canary's gonna be purple head to toe soon. Why don't you go spar with him a little?"

"Yeah, alright," Roy said, turning and walking out.

Halfway down the hall, he realized he left his water bottle back in the gym. He doubled back and picked it up off the rack.

"Why is he so mean to me?" Gemma's voice was asking quietly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Nah," Robin assured her. "Roy's always been...a hard-ass."

"But he's so nice to everyone else. And he's so mean to me."

"He doesn't like newcomers. Change makes him uncomfortable. He's just...trying to get used to you. You should've seen him with Artemis. They made the Civil War look like an egg hunt."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. They were terrible. You should have seen it. You can still see it, if you squint."

A small giggle escaped Gemma's lips.

"He's got this tough love thing going. Don't worry. He'll warm up eventually. When he gets used to you. Now come on. I hear you take ballet."

"Yeah."

"Well, let's see what we can milk from that. Come on, show me what you can do."

"Okay," Gemma said brightly, and the grunts and Robin's counting was all he could hear.

Roy picked up his bottle and walked away.

The truth was that sometimes, he did wish he could be a sweeter type of person, like Wally or Robin. Sometimes, he wished he could convey kindness like Kaldur. But he only wished for that when Gemma was around.

(410)

If there was anything particularly astonishing about that night—more astonishing than what had just happened—it was how long it took to fill out a casualty report.

"Casualty report?" Batman had said over the radio, his voice filled with static. "For who?"

Kaldur had not responded immediately. Rather, he was staring out the window, almost dazed by the view.

"Aqualad? A casualty report for who?"

"The Alchemist," Kaldur said at last. "We've lost The Alchemist."

There had been a pause. "Preparing casualty report," Batman said at last before the radio went dead.

And there they were, seated in the gray room Roy knew existed in Mount Justice because he had seen it before but by God he just couldn't remember it clearly because the only thing he could clearly process right then was that he had to get back home to call up Gemma and tell her he was sorry for the stupid fight. He hadn't told her he was sorry.

"Roy?" Black Canary called gently. Roy's eyes darted up to her. Her own eyes were rimmed with red. A half empty box of tissues was on the desk. "Did you hear me?"

"I—no," he said, looking around. He hadn't even felt himself enter her office. Everything felt weird, mechanical. "Sorry," he added. She shook her head.

"It's fine."

"Could you repeat the question?"

"Just tell us what happened. We need it for the records."

"Right. I...I shot a bow at the door."

"Door?"

"The door. But it was locked. The door was locked. So I left. And now it's gone. That's what happened."

Black Canary looked up at Batman, her brows knit together in...worry?

"Roy," she said, leaning forward. "You're not making any sense. What door are you talking about?"

"The locked one. The locked door," he said. He sighed. "It wasn't Plexiglas."

"I think we should give this a few hours," Batman said. "They're all in shock, the reports will all be the same."

"Right," said Black Canary. "Ollie, can you make sure he gets home?"

"Yeah, I got him," Ollie said, taking Roy's forearm and tugging gently. "Come on, Roy. Let's get you home."

Roy got to his feet numbly. The door burst open.

"What's going on?" asked a familiar voice. "I got this call, and—hey, kids!"

It was Ethan. He paused at the sight of a weeping M'gann.

"What's the matter? What's going on?"

"Ethan," Black Canary said, sighing. "Maybe you should sit down."

"For what? What's going on?" he asked, looking around confusedly. "What happened?"

"Just...sit down. We'll talk about this," Barry said, his arms still wrapped around a sobbing Raquel.

"Why do I need to sit down?" Ethan asked. "And where's Gemma? I need to talk to her."

He craned his head around, his gray eyes darting all over the room, before they fell back on weeping M'gann and sobbing Raquel and Zatanna shaking in Zatara's arms and Wally seated beside Artemis, huffing in defeat and finally, his eyes fell on the sheet of paper on Black Canary's desktop and the words 'CASUALTY REPORT' in bold letters and at last, Ethan paused.

"Where is Gemma?" he asked again. "Where is she?"

"Ethan," Superman said, his hand on Robin's back. "Please."

Ethan's brows knit together. He looked around the room, his neck twisting as he took in every face, every detail, every speck of non-existent dust that was illuminated by the bright white light.

"Come on, Ethan," Ollie said. "Let's go inside. Let's talk."

Ethan shook his head, rubbing at his forehead. His eyes found Roy's, and Roy wondered if he looked as numb and confused as he felt right then.

"She's dead," he said quietly. "What do you want to talk about?"

Black Canary sighed. Ethan shrugged. It wasn't a careless shrug. His whole body seemed to slump with that shrug. 'What now?' his body asked. And for a few seconds, Roy allowed his own being to take on Ethan's perspective, and ask the question again.

'What now?' indeed.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We should go somewhere else—" said Black Canary.

"It blew up," Artemis said, wiping a tear before it could reach her chin. Wally's head was on her lap. It seemed so familiar, so wrong to Roy, that all he could do was look away. "She wasn't quick enough."

Roy felt more than a few eyes on him as Artemis said this. People were watching him, waiting for him to snap and break someone's arm or assume fetal position and start crying. But he couldn't do it because his head was pounding and he felt sick and God, he was so, so tired.

"I'm going home," Roy said abruptly. Heads snapped in his direction. "I'm going." He said again, just in case they missed it. "It's late as shit and I'm tired and I can't feel my arms. I'm going home."

Ollie reached out. Roy shook it off.

"Leave me," Roy said. "I want to go home. I have to call someone."

He left the gray room and beelined for the zeta tube. No one stopped him.

The wall dividing the living room and the kitchen was still crystallized. His credit card was still suspended there inside. His TV was still on. A dark blue purse was on his couch. Burberry. He reached out and picked up his cell phone, dialing a number and holding the phone to his ear. Something in the blue purse began to vibrate, rocking the bag gently but audibly. Finally, it subsided.

"Hi," answered a voice after a few seconds. "You've reached Gemma. Leave a message."

Roy opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He wanted to say that he was tired, that his arms were numb and it was seven in the morning and his head hurt and he just wanted to sleep—or wake up—but he couldn't. So the timer ran out and the line went dead, and he just called again and got the voicemail again, and he did it over and over until at last, he fell asleep on the carpet.

For a moment or two before he finally went under, he kept thinking that the night before didn't happen. That the previous twenty four hours didn't happen. That it was all some strange dream and he was in Wonderland and he'd wake up to his ringing phone and who knew who'd be on the other end, telling him to haul ass to Mount Justice or meet him uptown or pick up his cousin from baseball practice. All he knew was that it wasn't real and that if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up and it'd all be over and he'd know it was a dream because his wall wouldn't have been crystallized. When he fell asleep, the wall was clear.

When he awoke, that was still the case.

(65)

"I don't hate nature," Gemma said. "I mean—I don't think I'd ever want to actually live out here full time, but it's not so bad."

Roy grunted. She had been paraphrasing those same words over and over since they split into teams. Six hours was enough, but any more of this, and he'd have to explain to Black Canary how his partner managed to fall off a cliff onto her head six times, and how her tongue managed to disappear during such a fall.

"You're not much of a camper," he noted.

"I tried once," she said. "With my dad. But he likes this stuff a lot more than I do."

"Survival skills are important," Roy said, at last completing the set-up of a campsite. "You need to be able to rely on yourself, not technology or processed food—to keep yourself alive in dangerous situations. Here. Fill up these canteens in that lake up ahead. Don't take too long."

"Are we seriously gonna drink murky lake water?" Gemma asked. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"It is."

"So...do we have a bottle of iodine?"

"Nope. That's cheating. We're gonna boil it."

"I saw Wally sneak a bottle of iodine before we all split up."

"Then Wally's getting points off."

"Can't I just make my own water and fill the bottles with it? That's not cheating. I can just zap a little hydrogen and—"

"You still need to use lake water and boil it. For the sake of knowing."

"Alright," Gemma said, shrugging and taking the canteens. She jogged up over the rocks.

"Don't take too long," Roy called after her. "And don't light a flashlight. You might attract predators."

"Are there predators in these parts?" asked her voice timidly in the dark.

"Can't hurt to be careful."

He heard the footsteps fade away, and he sat beside the fire. She was a damn annoying child, but he couldn't help but feel guilty about thinking that. After what he had seen happen with Amelie five days earlier, his thoughts entered into a flux every time Gemma was near. He couldn't say she was inconsiderately stupid—no one could after that day. Before then, he had thought her a spoiled rotten princess, obsessed with looks and glitter and laughter because she lived in a world where everything was perfect all the time. Perhaps a few of those things may have been true—perhaps more than a few—but he had never seen anything that came close to what he had seen her do.

"Got the bottles," said her voice quickly, eagerly, as she jogged back towards the light of the campfire. "Roy, come here. You have to see this!"

"What?"

"Just come! Come on, come look!"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, I swear!" Gemma promised as Roy got to his feet, letting her tug him by the arm like a child up the rocky hill.

"Did you see another team? Because we're not supposed to pick fights with—"

"Sh! You'll scare them away!" Gemma whispered.

"Scare who away?" Roy whispered back.

"Scare them away!" Gemma said, pointing at the bank of the lake. Roy narrowed his eyes.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Gemma huffed quietly in exasperation.

"Come closer. Look!" she slid her hand into his and pulled him closer to the bank.

"I still don't see it," Roy said flatly.

"You're not looking," Gemma said.

"I don't even know what it is I'm supposed to see," Roy said. "Where am I supposed to look?"

"All around you, duh!" Gemma whispered excitedly.

That was when he saw it. Right beside her left ear. A brief glow, and then it vanished. Another, a few inches above her head. Another on her shoulder. All around the dark, the tiny dots glowed and vanished, glowed and vanished, never enough to illuminate the area completely, but enough to be seen.

"Fireflies?" he asked skeptically. "You brought me out here to see fireflies?"

"Look how pretty they are!" she said adoringly, watching the lights reflect on the water. She sighed like a twelve year old during New Moon.

"Yeah, it's a sight," Roy said.

"And look up there!" she whispered, pointing upward. Roy followed her finger up to a glorious, star-filled midnight blue sky.

"It's...it's..." Roy wasn't sure what to say, or if she would hear him right then. All he knew was that it would be nice—very nice—to lay back and watch the fireflies glow across the sky for a while.

"It's beautiful," Gemma breathed, and Roy snapped to attention and found that he had indeed taken a seat by the water. Gemma was huddled into a tiny ball beside him, dividing her attention between the glow of the fireflies and the scattered stars in the sky.

"It is," he said quietly.

"I wish I could sparkle like that," she said, looking at the stars above.

It only just dawned on Roy that her hand was still in his. He looked down at them. Their skin glowed ivory in the moonlight. A firefly danced by their fingers. Her hand was so small in his—her palm couldn't cover his four fingers. He could feel the skin of her palm—soft as velvet—against his own bow-calloused one. He studied the smooth surface of the skin on the back of her hand, his eyes tracing her arm, her shoulder, her collarbone, her jaw, her face, her pretty little face, with her dark hair pulled up into a glossy ponytail and her eyes wide as saucers as they took everything in.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" he asked.

"This, and," she said, pointing ahead. "I found Wally and Artemis."

Roy followed her finger across the water, where he could see a tiny light glowing in the distance—a firelight.

"How do you know it's Wally and Artemis?" he asked.

"I think they've gone to sleep, but they were yelling before," she said.

"That's Robin and Kaldur's side of the forest," Roy said. "I feel kinda bad for them."

"Me, too," Gemma whispered. And Roy kept his hand in hers, giving the brilliant night sky and fireflies his attention, and they drifted off right there by the water, campsite forgotten.

The next morning, Black Canary gave them full marks on the survival exercise. Robin and Kaldur got full marks as well. Connor and M'gann got half marks because they hadn't really learned much besides how to make out against a tree, and Wally and Artemis were bruised from head to toe, so they not only got points deducted, but actually got placed on probation.

Gemma never mentioned that night by the water. Roy was always secretly glad that she didn't. But he noticed that from that day forward, her skin always shimmered like a wall of diamonds covered with a sheet of silk—like a star filled night.

And from that day forward, Roy kept on forgetting that he didn't like her, he didn't like her, he didn't like her.

(412)

Amelie had shrieked when they told her.

"Ma Cherie soeur!" she had sobbed. "Mon ange soeur!"

And every single word they had tried to say only made her sob harder, until she was inconsolable and breaking things and kicking walls and M'gann finally calmed her down enough to stop destroying the mountain but she still cried like a newborn infant covered in its mothers fluids. Everyone was surrounding her, touching some part of her, comforting her because they knew what Gemma meant to her but for some strange reason Roy couldn't bring himself to move from the doorway. His eyes kept darting between the group of them huddled around her like a bunch of bear cubs in a winter cave and Red Tornado, who was cleaning up the damaged furniture without pause.

At home alone that night, he kept on seeing that scene again. Amelie's tear stained face, her twister of destruction in the living room, M'gann stroking her hair. It kept coming back in pieces, like broken glass, all fitting into place to form a crudely pulled together picture. The only thing that made sense to him was the destruction. Why hadn't he tried that?

He got to his feet and socked the crystal wall. Nothing happened. Hmph. He forgot it wouldn't work on this wall. He tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Blurry splotches of white wall, of black furniture, of the cars in the street below just outside the window, of Cat Graham on TV talking about the nutritional value of whogaveashit. And for the life of him, Roy couldn't bring himself to stop, because he was so, so tired no matter how much he slept and he couldn't feel his arms and his head wouldn't stop aching and maybe, if he kept whacking at that wall, the cure would become clear to him but it didn't. So he kept on whacking until the crunch of his fingers forced him to stop because his blood was all over the crystal and he still couldn't feel a thing. He couldn't feel the need to destroy his apartment screaming words in French but at least the girl who had destroyed a living room while screaming words in French could feel her arms and wasn't so tired and didn't have a headache and things made sense to her.

And for just a moment, he would have given anything in the world to be Amelie.

(89)

"...as many as seventeen inches of rainfall expected in the south near Florida. New England can count on being hit hard by thunderstorms tonight and maybe up til Thursday..."

Roy switched off the TV. Connor seemed perfectly content to stare at the blank screen. Wolf rubbed his head against the sofa.

"This blows!" Wally yelled from the kitchen, his mouth stuffed with Oreos. "I have to go to the mall!"

"What's at the mall?" asked Robin, seated cross-legged on the kitchen counter, watching Kaldur scoop cookie dough onto a sheet. He chewed on a few chocolate chips. "You hate the mall."

"I have to buy a Valentine's Day present," Wally said.

"For who?" asked Roy.

"For Artemis?" Robin asked quickly. "Should the scoops be this big?" he asked Kaldur. Kaldur snuck another glance at the cookbook and shrugged.

"Jumbo cookies are nice, too," he said.

"No," Wally said. "Just...for someone."

"You're a shit liar. It's for Artemis," Roy said.

"What are you gonna buy her?" asked Robin.

"It's not for her."

"What are you buying, then?"

"Those glass figurine sets."

"She'll throw them at you."

"Get her a new bow," suggested Connor.

"She'll use it to shoot me. I'm not giving her a weapon."

"Buy her a dress," Robin said. "Girls like clothes. No matter how tomboy they are. Girls like clothes."

"I wonder what her size is..." Wally said, his brows furrowing.

"So it is for Artemis?" Roy asked. "Because if it is, then I think she's a size 4."

"She's a size 2," Robin said. "Positive."

"Why would she be a size 2?" Connor asked.

"The girls trade clothes all the time," Robin said. "If Artemis and Gemma can both fit into the same dress—you remember that blue one?—and Gemma is a size 2, then Artemis is a size 2."

"How do you know Gemma's dress size?" asked Kaldur.

"I'm always in her room," Robin said, shrugging. "I know everybody's size."

"Buy her a green dress," Connor said. "With pockets. She'll like pockets."

"Why pockets? Should I put something in the pockets?" Wally asked.

"I don't know," Connor said. "I just think Artemis would be a lot happier with a dress that has pockets because then she wouldn't have to lug a bag around. Why? Do people usually give dresses with things in the pockets?"

"What the hell would you put in the pockets?" asked Robin. Wally shrugged.

"Condoms? I don't know," he answered. "This is too complicated. I think I'll just get her the figurines and pray she doesn't throw them at me."

"I'd get her the condoms," Connor said, chuckling. Roy snorted.

"Flavored ones. They send the right message."

"Yeah," said Wally. "Telling her exactly what part of me to chop off. I'm not suicidal."

'It's always a good time...' trilled a little voice as Gemma danced into the kitchen. She was raising the volume on her iPod, completely unaware of the sudden quiet that overtook the room.

"Hey, Gem," Wally called.

"Uh huh?" she replied, her eyes on the fridge as she fished through its contents.

"What do girls like to get for Valentine's Day?"

"Chocolate," she said, her eyes still on the fridge. "Every girl is different, but usually chocolate is the safest bet. Artemis likes caramel turtles."

"Who said anything about Artemis?" Wally asked. Gemma blinked at him, a bottle of Hershey's Milkshake halfway to her mouth.

"Well, who else did you have in mind?" she asked.

Wally paused.

"Caramel turtles. And lilies. She likes lilies."

She turned and hurried away, singing quietly as she went.

"What's her dress size?" Wally called.

"Two!" she answered from down the hall. "She's got her eye on a green dress that just popped up at New York & Company. I can order it and say it's from you!"

"Please do!" Wally said. As soon as her footsteps disappeared, he turned back to them. "I'm gonna get Gem something, too. She's molten sugar."

Artemis' dress arrived the next morning via FedEx priority shipping. It had pockets.

"Condoms," Connor sang into Wally's ear as Kaldur stuck his fist into one of the pockets, trying to determine how deep they were.

"Perhaps a small purse might fit in here?" Kaldur said. "Or a wallet?"

"A chunky mirror, too," Robin said, sticking his hand into the other pocket. "Or maybe a pocket-watch."

"Why don't you just not put things in the pockets?" asked Roy.

"Can I do that?" asked Wally.

"Does your Dad stick things into the pockets of your Mom's dresses?" Roy asked.

"My Dad doesn't buy my Mom dresses with pockets!"

"Well, I've never bought a girl a dress with pockets before!" Roy said. "And even if I did, I'm pretty sure you're not obligated to fill them up!"

"These pockets are huge! How can I not fill them up?"

"Why don't you just write a note?" Roy asked. They all paused.

"A note?" Connor asked. "Seriously?"

"I think I'd have more luck with a little purse," Wally said. "Like those little ones old ladies stick their coins in. My cousin uses them. I think they might be coming back into style."

"What are you idiots doing?"

They all paused, turning to the door. Artemis stood, arms crossed, by the doorframe. Gemma stood beside her, a plastic spoon dangling from her mouth. They watched the boys confusedly, with each one of them fingering some part of the dress, and a few of them with hands disappearing into the pockets.

Roy blinked, and Wally was standing in front of her, holding the dress up.

"Happy Val—Friendship Day!" he sang.

"Friendship Day?" Artemis repeated, a brow cocked. She snuck a glance at Gemma, who shrugged.

"I've heard it called weirder names," Gemma said. "My Dad used to call it Singles' Awareness Day."

Robin snorted.

"This is...pretty," Artemis said. "I can wear it to the wedding."

"At least you get to choose a color," Gemma said, huffing. "I'm stuck with pastel peach."

"What wedding?" asked Wally.

"Gemma's dad is engaged," Artemis said. Robin perked up.

"Ethan's getting married?"

Gemma nodded, a sour look on her face. "Yep," she said.

"To who?"

"A centerfold," Gemma answered instantly. Connor choked on his juice.

"A magazine editor," Artemis said, rolling her eyes. "She's nice."

"You talking about Meredith?" asked Raquel as she popped into view. "She's awesome! She's letting us raid the Vogue inventory for her wedding!"

"Except Gemma, of course," Artemis said, putting on a fake pout. "She's stuck wearing pastel peach."

"Oh," said Zatanna, popping her head in. "That's a really nice dress."

"Wally got it for her," Gemma said, swallowing another spoon of god knows what that stuff was. "As a Valentine's Day present."

"Aww!"

"It's not—it's a Friendship Day—"

But Raquel and Zatanna were already yanking Artemis by the hand, pulling her out of the room to show M'gann the dress. Gemma stayed behind.

"I'm gonna go find some liquor to spike this with," Gemma said, and Roy realized she was eating noodle soup. She turned around, but paused. "Why did you guys have your hands in the pockets?"

"We were wondering what we could fit into them," Robin answered quickly. Her dark brows knit together in confusion.

"Why didn't you just write a note?" Gemma asked. Wally sighed.

"I don't know, Gemma," he said, collapsing onto the couch. "I really don't know."

Gemma shrugged and walked off. Within moments, Roy could hear her shriek of excitement join the other's down the hall.

"If she has a Dad," Roy said to Robin. "Then why does she stay here?"

"She doesn't always stay here," Robin said. "Just when the fiancé is at her house. She really doesn't want a step-mom. Her Dad's never been with anyone before."

"She's not worried about the fact that her Dad could hit retirement soon and still be single?"

"Dude, her Dad is miles from retirement," Robin said. "She's a teen's baby. Her dad was still in high school when she was born. He's not even close to forty yet."

"How old was Ethan when he had her?"

"Like...fifteen, I think. Something really young."

Roy frowned. Her father would have to be thirty one, then. Being raised by a teenager that wasn't even out of high school isn't the kind of childhood Roy had imagined for her. He imagined a penthouse on Fifth Avenue, a silver spoon between her teeth, a hair appointment twice a week. So perhaps he was wrong about the Daddy's Little Princess thing.

(418)

"Roy, it's Ollie. You're not answering your cell, I'm assuming you lost it. If I don't hear from you in the next hour, I'm coming over there."

Roy sighed, picking up his cell phone and dialing Ollie's number.

"I got your message...es," Roy said quietly.

"Where have you been, Roy?" Ollie's voice asked.

"I headed back to the Reservation," he lied. "Checked up on some old friends. Guess I needed something familiar."

Ollie sighed. "How is everyone back there?"

"Not too bad. Better than we are, anyways. Have you talked to Ethan lately?"

"I'm on my way to his house. Dinah and I are trying to convince him to have a funeral."

"Why? There's nothing to bury," Roy said.

"I know, but...my cousin did something like this once. There wasn't a body, so they just buried memorabilia."

"That's not the same," Roy said grimly.

"I know it's not. But it's closure. Which Ethan could really use right now."

"How's he holding up?" Roy asked.

"Meredith says he's doing pretty good, considering."

"Which means...?"

"Which means he's a train-wreck," Ollie said. "But he's putting on a good front."

"Everyone seems to be. Have you seen Amelie lately?"

"Oh, God, that poor girl. She breaks down every time someone mentions it."

"She needs a funeral."

"Maybe," Ollie agreed distantly. There was a pause and Roy inhaled sharply because he knew what was coming next.

"How are you, Roy?" Ollie asked.

"Fine," Roy said. "Just...fine."

"Where are you? Cause I know you're not at home."

"I'm out," Roy said. "Coffee run."

"You know, Red Tornado was talking about emptying her room out."

"Shouldn't Ethan be the judge of that?"

"No, her room at Mount Justice. Bringing her things to Ethan's place in Chicago."

"Again: Ethan should be the judge of that."

"Ethan's backing him up. He thinks everyone should get a chance to go in and claim something of hers to keep. A memory."

"That's nice of Ethan."

"No one's gone in yet."

"Well, why are you telling me, then?" Roy asked.

"Because everyone's too shocked to do it," Ollie said.

"So?"

"So I figured you must not have heard about it or else you would have gone in by now," Ollie said.

"I'm not going in there."

"You don't have to take anything. Just...make it look like you did, will you? Set an example for the kids."

"Some example," Roy said. "I'm inviting them to paw through my dead girlfriend's junk—"

"Ethan needs this, Roy. He can't even bury her. He needs to know she'll be...remembered."

Roy heaved a sigh. "I can be there...later."

"Thank you, Roy."

"Yeah, yeah,"

"And Roy?"

"What?"

"Eat something. You sound like shit."

And the line went dead. Roy tossed the phone onto the couch. It hit the dark blue purse, the one he hadn't touched in eight days, and the purse tipped over, all of its contents spilling onto the cushion. Roy paused, looking at all of the items. A compact mirror—with a glitter cover. A tube of cherry chap-stick. A small brush. A wallet. A pen. A cell phone. A tiny bottle of perfume. A small white tissue, folded gently. Roy squinted at the tissue, reaching over and picking it up. A number was scrawled along the edge in blue.

254-7910

Who's number was this? Who would Gemma have called if she were still there? What would she be doing if she were there right then? Roy placed the tissue back into the bag, followed by the mirror, the chap-stick, the wallet, the pen, the perfume, and finally, the phone. She had fourteen messages. All of them, of course, his. She had one text message. It arrived two days earlier. But Roy hadn't texted her. Who was it, then, that didn't know yet? Who had Ethan or the League or the team forgotten to tell that Gemma was gone forever?

Whoever they were, Roy would have to call them back and let them know she had passed. He hit enter.

The screen was locked. She had a five digit pin number.

'E-T-H-A-N,' he typed. Wrong. Four tries left.

'G-E-M-M-A,' he typed. Wrong. Three tries left.

'S-T-O-N-E,' he typed. Wrong. Two tries left.

Quit while he's ahead, he'd always say. He dropped the phone into his pocket and picked up his jacket, hurrying off to the kitchen.

When had it gotten so cold in his apartment? His fingers played with the thermostat blankly. The tips of his fingers touched the cold screen of the cell phone in his right pocket. He would have to stop by Ethan's apartment in Chicago and return the phone to him sometime soon. Perhaps he could hold onto the bag, though.

He had been in Gemma's room before—both her Mount Justice room and her actual room back in Chicago. He would have to say, he liked the Mount Justice room better. Her room in Chicago had a floor to ceiling wall of glass—courtesy of her power—that afforded her a brilliant view of the city. But everything in the room was so sparkly. Everything was diamond. Her Mount Justice room was much calmer. White sheets and concrete, a layer of glass and bamboo to make a waterfall in the corner, a wall of floor to ceiling glass granting her a view of the Atlantic. The only color in that room was the green of the bamboo and the granny smith apples in the bowl on the glass coffee table. And even though the whole idea of him going in there was a thorn in his side, he had to admit, he'd like to be in there again.

A buzzing in his pocket jerked his thoughts away from her room and to his right hand as he unearthed Gemma's phone. He frowned, looking down at the still locked screen. '254-7910' was calling. This person was the one who had texted her, then, because how many people could Ethan and the league possibly forgotten to have told? Roy half considered picking up and telling the person himself, but with the phone locked, that was impossible. He waited for the fourth, fifth, sixth ring to pass before the buzzing subsided before pocketing the phone and continuing in the direction of the kitchen.

He had barely made it down the hall when the phone began buzzing again. '254-7910'. He huffed, waiting for the buzzing to stop. When it did, he pulled out his own cell phone, dialing the number quickly and listening for the ring.

"Bering," answered a male voice on the second ring.

"Hey," said Roy. "You've been calling my friend's phone off the hook lately, and—"

"Who are you?" asked Bering apprehensively.

"I'm...a friend of hers," Roy said. "And I'm just calling to explain why she hasn't been picking up."

"No, no, no, no, no," said Bering. "I think you've got the wrong number. "I haven't been calling."

"Um...no," said Roy. "You have been calling, because her phone has Caller ID. I dialed the number and you picked up."

"No, it's the wrong number," Bering said. "Sorry, pal."

"Wait—"

The other line went dead. Roy looked at the phone in his hand, his brow furrowing in confusion.