Sorry for the long wait! School started again a couple weeks ago, and I'm very busy. Updates will probably be pretty sparse until the next break. But I'm still working! I'll finish this story no matter what. - Essie

Chapter 2 - A New Beginning

All the rest of that day, the question dogged at me: what should I choose as my stimulant – my trigger? I had to pick something; it was the only way to get rid of the attacks. I did wonder a couple times whether I should defy Ra's, not turn the chip on, be the hero. But I was scared – scared of him, scared of being in pain again. Plus, if I did manage to learn how to use the thing to my advantage, I might be able to escape with my new "abilities," whatever those would be.

I went to bed that night still thinking. I've heard tell that if you go to sleep thinking about something, your brain will keep working on it, and you'll wake up a lot further along than you were before. Well, guess what? It's true. I woke up with one fixed, solid idea.

The trigger couldn't be a word. I couldn't use my brother's name, or anything short like that. No blinking, no snapping fingers. It had to be something prolonged, so that when it was on, it was always on, and when it was off, it was always off. Something that kept going as long as I needed, and then stopped when I was done. A prolonged and controllable stimulant…

What kinds of things could do that?

Talking. No, horrible idea. I'd wear my voice out too fast. But along the lines of talking… singing? I couldn't do the singing; I'd be faced with the same problem. But what if… someone else was doing it?

Not a person, obviously. But a pair of earbuds and a wireless server… or, here in the golden palace, maybe a fancy holospeaker. Yeah, that could work…

Music. I could use music.

I jumped at a knock on the door. "Come in," I said instinctively.

Talia walked in. "Good morning. My father wishes—"

"I'm ready," I blurted out.

"Ready?"

"I know what I want my trigger to be."

Talia's face twitched from calm to intent. "Come with me. Quickly."

Without even changing into day clothes, I followed Talia out of my room and to Ra's' office. He looked up as we stormed in.

"She has chosen," Talia announced. "It's time."

Ra's nodded. "I thought today might be the day. Come here, Samantha."

I crossed the room as he waved me over. He handed me a small, plastic rectangle with a red light on one end.

"Hold this."

"What is it?"

"It will make the transition smoother."

I nodded, suddenly nervous. This was it. No going back now.

"Tell me," Ra's said, leaning eagerly over his desk, "what have you chosen?"

I faltered. "I though… I could use music. I've always believed that music has the power to excite the mind, to give people the power to do things they couldn't on their own. It's controllable, and it will be obvious when the chip is on and off, based on when the music is playing or not."

Ra's nodded. "Music. Indeed. Can you think of any drawbacks?"

I shrugged. "I only just came up with the idea. Can you?"

"Only one. Your family has always been very musical, correct?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Your mind is wired to interact with music on a much deeper level than the average person," Ra's said, pacing the floor. "For you, music is more than noise; it is expression, emotion, almost a living entity. The danger, my dear, is that it may begin to control you more than you control it."

My face fell. "That's… true. Do you think I shouldn't use it?"

Ra's spread his hands wide. "In the end, everything will have a drawback. You've already discovered one point of failure your brother did not; I have had to deal with him several times when he forgot his chip was on. If you believe you can control it – if you are ready to put all your effort into mastering it – then I believe music will be perfectly suitable."

I pondered the question. Music was important to me, yes. I often used it to match or change my mood. But I always had control over it; I could turn it off if I needed or change the song if asked. Surely, it wouldn't be any different with the music I used to activate the chip.

"Whenever you are ready," Ra's said, "open your mind. Let yourself imagine what it will be like to turn it on, to hear that music and feel the change."

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how this was going to work. I imagined myself, standing still, ordinary, no powers. I made sure my mind was silent. No music.

Then I imagined a song starting. I heard the gentle, loving strum of a guitar; those were my father's fingers, plucking away. A low humming followed, the murmur of a soft voice, forming a piece of music I knew well from my childhood - the first song I could remember my mother singing. They were sitting on the couch; I was on the floor, staring up at the giants of my childhood. This was how I wanted to remember my parents – singing.

Listen to them, I told myself. Listen to their music, and let it sweep through you and empower you. The song was peaceful, but the feeling it sparked in my chest – it was painful and fierce and ached like bliss. It tensed my muscles and heightened my senses. A mile away, my hands flexed, and my fingers spread wide.

I could feel something click into place. Something shifted, and suddenly, I was beyond myself, imagining things I had never even considered. How my body could move, all the ways I could use it - to dance, to leap, to reach new heights; but also to fight, to grapple and tear and bend the world to my will. I saw new ways I could use my mind - to see, to hear, to notice; to solve life's mysteries, to understand the impossible, to achieve mastery of anything and everything. I could think, I could do - I could dream.

My eyes flickered open. The music faded, and with it, the feeling.

I stood in front of Ra's al Ghul, my arms hanging at my sides like electric power lines, tingling with energy. "I… think I did it."

"Excellent." Ra's was staring at me, as if I were some brand new fascination, some indulgent delicacy he couldn't wait to dig into. My hair rose, and I backed away.

Ra's realized my discomfort and rearranged his face into pleasant placidity. "Yes, wonderful. Well, then, if you don't mind, I believe we can begin testing you. See what your limits are, start to build up your tolerance to switching back and forth, simply the basics. Talia will take you to the training room."

I turned around to see Talia standing in the doorway. She had changed her clothes; she wore a tight-fitting bodysuit, with belts strapped around her waist and over her shoulder. Each belt had a sword in a sheath attached to it. Her hair was pulled back and braided.

She was prepared to fight. She was going to fight me.

/

As we walked, I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened. If Ra's was telling the truth, if Jem was anything to go by, then… I had legit superpowers now. I could do anything.

But better still, if Ra's al Ghul was right, I wouldn't ever have another attack. My body and the chip had finally settled into harmony. I was healed. I was free! I felt the urge to jump up and punch my fists into the air. I only held back because Talia was absolutely silent, and I felt like I shouldn't do anything unexpected or she might judo flip me.

I admit it, I was actually looking forward to training. I wanted to see how far I could go, and if I still had room to improve. I imagined myself training opposite the boys, or Batman, even the Justice League – building up my strength and learning new moves, new techniques. Anything was possible, anything!

"Samantha."

I snapped out of my dazed wonderings to see that Talia and I had arrived at the training center. There were only a couple people sparring, and one of the mats was wide open – probably reserved for us.

"So," Talia said, waving to a ninja standing off to the side. "You've found your trigger."

I nodded excitedly. Then I hesitated. "Except… how am I going to use it here? I don't think you have… headphones. Or a sound system."

"You chose music." Talia tapped her chin. "Do you suppose something played directly on instruments would work?"

"Um, probably."

Talia turned to the ninja, who had dashed to her side the instant she called. "Find me Batu," she said.

"Who's Batu?" I asked.

Talia smiled. "When I was training my son, I taught him everything, including the arts. Batu is the man who taught him the art of rhythm. He would often accompany our sparring sessions with a beat of some kind, to challenge us."

"So… he's a drummer?"

"The very best."

In a few minutes, one of the ninjas returned, leading a rather elderly, bent man. He nodded to Talia respectfully.

"My lady Talia. What do you wish of me?"

"Music. A good, steady, fast rhythm. For sparring."

Batu smiled and patted a single goblet-shaped drum he had tucked under his arm. He sat himself down on the floor and let his hands hover over the drumhead.

Talia positioned me across from her on the mat. She quickly showed me a fighting stance; I knew I looked stupid, but it was my first time. I'm sure even Damian didn't know how to do this once. When I was ready, Talia nodded to Batu.

The drummer's hands were wrinkled and shook a little as they hung in suspense. I wondered if he would be able to maintain a beat. He must be a lot older than he was when he taught Damian.

Then his hands fell, and I realized that I was mistaken.

His fingers flew across the surface, pounding and tapping out a rhythm that was a melody in itself. I could feel something shift in me, and suddenly, I was watching, not a man drumming, but each movement, how every one of his muscles tensed and released to create the motion that hit the drum that made the sound that was the beat. I smiled an intense and wild smile, then let my attention shift from Batu to myself. I knew that the beat was enough music for me. My body was ready and willing to do anything I could think.

At the same time, Talia drew both of her swords, flung one at me, and got into a ready stance.

My eye moved as fast as lightning. I watched as the sword fell toward me, spinning end over end, slowly, as if I had run ahead and time was catching up. I waited until the last minute, then let my hand fall open, resting in just the place where the grip would land. It slid gently, easily into place, and I curled my fingers around it, feeling the balance empower me, lengthening my reach, giving it a lethal edge.

I caught a glimpse of sharp metal rushing toward me. I could tell its trajectory would end at my throat. I had to stop Talia's sword with mine. My mind rushed through every movie I had ever watched, every book I had ever read, everything I knew about the art of the sword. My arm moved quickly, and the blade in my hand moved with it, both in perfect unison, to break the sword from Talia's grip. If I did that, she'd be defenseless; I'd be open to move in, to bring down, to make the final move, to win-

Wait!

Talia made a sudden movement. Her feet hit the floor with nothing more than a tap; then she was just behind me. I spun around and spied the enemy approaching, her sword tip almost to my leg, so I danced out of her reach, my sword rushing to stop hers. Simple, as if rehearsed. We wove in and out for minutes longer; I'm constantly getting stronger – and I start to feel an urge, a desperate need. My body wants to do something, something I haven't even considered yet. I can do so much more!

I crouch toward the ground and bring my foot around. Talia flips over it, easy. In her flip, she forgot to cover her throat. My sword rises, and she turns midair to stop my hand, catches blade with blade. I turn, I rise, I fall, I dance. Reach out, jump back, defense, offense. She can't catch up; I'm powerful, more powerful than she could ever hope to be.

I see my opening and take it. Talia has to move away from my blade, but she's trapped – she has to move backward. I'm too fast; she has to fall. She has to clutch the ground, has to close her eyes against my inevitable victory. My opportunity arises. I can end her, here and now. I raise my sword to strike.

"Stop!"

A body shoved itself between my blade and my victim. I registered a mask, familiar. My mind rushed through a million thoughts to find the right one. My brother, Jem…

"Stop," Jem yelled again, and this time, Batu ceased drumming.

Instantly, my mind screeched to a halt, like a freight train hitting a barrier. I noticed the lack of sound first and foremost, and the stunning silence it created.

Jem tore off his mask. "Sam! It's over; calm down."

I realized my breathing was wild and rushed. Then I started to feel the aching in my bones – ugh, every muscle in my body was screaming in pain. And my head was pounding, too. Was this an aftereffect of the chip doing its thing to my brain?

"Ow," I groaned.

"You'll be sore for a bit. Here."

Jem helped me lower myself to the ground. I tossed my sword aside and started massaging my muscles, breathing heavily. I felt worn out; I must have torn something, judging by the way everything hurt.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said. Then I glanced up. Jem wasn't talking to me. He had his hand extended to Talia, who gracefully took it and stood.

"I should have mentioned," Talia said, moving like she hadn't even gotten a bruise. "Your mind will be able to command your body to do whatever it needs, but your body might not be ready to handle it yet."

"You're telling me now?"

"You need to work on building up your strength and agility, that's all," Jem said. "Judging by that performance, you'll be the best of us in no time."

The best of us.

I couldn't help a shudder. He meant the best of the League of Assassins.

I glanced over Jem's shoulder at Talia, beginning to understand what I had done. The chip worked, clear as clear. But it had taken me far beyond what I had expected. Almost too far…

"Talia," I breathed. "I could've killed you."

"You could've tried. I doubt you would have succeeded."

Jem crouched beside me. "Don't worry; there are people watching. You won't be able to kill anyone here; definitely not by accident."

That sounded a little like a threat. But something in his voice, the sincerity of it, made me pause. It was almost like… he didn't want me to kill. I narrowed my eyes.

"Thank you for stopping me."

He nodded. "Anything for my sister."

Curiouser and curiouser.

Jem got up and bowed to Talia. "I should get back to my training."

"You are dismissed," Talia said disinterestedly. Jem nodded again and trotted back to the other side of the room, replacing his mask.

I watched him go, suspicion still buzzing in my head. He was hiding something from me. I started to wonder – did he stop me just to protect Talia?

Or did he have more of a moral center than I had thought?

"I believe that was a sufficient test of your abilities," Talia said, peering down at me. "You may rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow, I will begin to train you without the chip."

"Thanks," I muttered. I winced and started to pick myself up. "Can I… get back to my room?"

"Follow me."

/

I had always loved the gym. Mostly because my Dad worked there. But I also strangely enjoyed the pleasure I got from a good day's work, and the knowledge that,

over time, I was making my body stronger. It's highly likely that I also got some inspiration from the Batfam. When you live in Gotham, you're bound to wonder eventually - will I ever be up there, stopping crime with the Bat?

Talia's training room was not a gym. It was so much worse.

For a straight week, she had me pushing my body to the limits, lifting weights, running, stretching. My muscles were constantly sore, and I had to limp everywhere because my legs were so tired they could've fallen off and I wouldn't notice.

And that was just testing.

Once Talia knew where I was strong, where I was weak, and what I still needed to learn, she forged a complete training plan and started running me through it. I couldn't believe some of the things she wanted me to do. She had me do a few normal things, like practice sword fighting, do complicated stretches, or lift weights. But then she'd make me juggle eggs. Or she would take me outside and tell me to sketch the outer wall of the palace. Once she threw a fifty-pound weight at my head with no warning.

I grew up washing plates. I wasn't ready for any of this.

Every so often, she would show up at my door and lead me blindfolded to some exotic location. The first place she took me was a dense rainforest. It was nice enough until she pointed to a pool of dingy water and told me to get in. She had me practice holding my breath underwater for the better part of a day; I'd barely even learned to swim before. I cried that night.

Another time, she flew me out to a different forest, this one much less wet, and for a purpose. She wanted me to walk soundlessly from one end to the other. I probably stepped on every single twig, leaf, and small shrub on the forest floor. When I came out, I found her standing there eating an apple.

"Again," she said. She didn't even look up.

Then she found some forsaken patch of icy wasteland and forced me to test my strength by taking off most of my clothes and seeing how long I could go without shivering. I failed that the moment I began. I had ice burns on my feet for a week, but she didn't let me rest. Instead, she forced me to work harder, so I would "learn to channel the pain."

This went on for weeks. Each morning, I woke up with Talia standing at the door, waiting for me with more tests, more training. Each night, I fell into bed, exhausted, groaning numbly, massaging cold fingers or fainting from heat, sometimes soaking wet, sometimes parched and desperate for relief. It seemed like the torture would never end.

Then came the day that I managed to do a complete backflip. And then the day I lifted my weight in lead. The day I caught the eggs without cracking them, and then held my breath underwater for a full minute. Slowly, I began to grow and strengthen. The things that seemed difficult before were hardly worth blinking at, and the things that challenged me were more invigorating than fearsome.

After a month had passed, I was running five miles a day. I could catch any object thrown at me with a half second's glance. I had memorized every crevice of the palace wall, and I could scale it in under a minute. Best of all, I could perform almost any kind of flip, twist, and somersault with ease.

So, one morning, Talia brought me back to the training room and gave me a sword.

"It's time," she said, "to use your gifts."

I examined the sword in my hand. If my eyes didn't betray me - and after Talia's training, I trusted them completely - this was the same sword I had used to fight her a month ago.

"I'll need music," I said.

"I haven't been idle this past month."

I looked over to see Batu and his drum, sitting between a couple new men with fascinating foreign instruments. I gave them a tentative smile; they didn't respond.

"Ready stance, Samantha."

"Right. Sorry." I slid my feet apart and sank my weight to my core. The sword I held almost casually, light in my hand, ready to move it at a moment's notice. It all felt so natural now. I was tempted to fall into a reminiscent daze; unfortunately, there wasn't time.

At a nod from Talia, they musicians to play.

I felt a wonderful, familiar sensation. My eyes widened, my fingers tightened around the sword hilt, and my mind opened like a floodgate released. I lunged for Talia. The movements all came quick and easy, and my eye saw everything, her blade, her grip, her stance. I knew my opponent like the back of my hand.

My second time around, I found the fight more like a dance. My body was trained and prepared. I knew just how it worked and what it could do, so I let it perform to its fullest extent. My legs were stronger; I could jump higher, travel further, change directions in a heartbeat. I moved like the end of a whip, tripping her up, slipping past her blade, bowing and rising like a tree in the wind. I used both blade and hilt, I traded right hand for left. I went for her legs, she jumped aside, I followed through.

Every movement is as natural as blinking; it couldn't be simpler if it had been choreographed. And yet, I still haven't beaten Talia. Maybe all that training made me more refined, but has it also made me weaker?

My moment of speculation costs me concentration. Talia winks at me and drives her blade toward my ribs. I laugh and slap her blade away with mine. She's left herself open; I could do it now. I could take her down. This is my fight, my victory.

Then my brother's voice echoes through my head.

Stop.

That second is just a bit too long. Talia's back up, sword in hand. Her blade is whistling down at my head, so I raise mine. I shove her back, she lashes out, and I have hardly a moment to get away. The drum's pounding in my head. I can move faster, more powerfully; I know I can. My body is mine to command. If it moves a hair out of line, I force it back on track. There can be no mistakes on the battlefield.

We fight on forever, near perfect equals, even though I'm the only one with enhanced abilities. We don't tire, we just keep moving. It takes forever, but she's finally down. I stand over her, then feel myself pause, holding back.

Stop.

She's helpless now. I could end it once and for all. She'd never hurt another family - that's good! Some wild instinct tells me that I ought to obey whatever's in my head - it's time to make the final move, to kill. But there's a center, something like balance, rethinking, recalculating for me. If I kill, then I'm no worse than the al Ghuls. I could kill her now, but I'd break one of my most firm standards in the process. No killing.

Stop.

She can't reach her sword. I could do it… but the moment is fading. I could kill her now - or I could live with myself. I could win, or I could let her go with grace, and walk away, perhaps without the upper hand, but with my sanity and virtue intact.

Stop.

It's over. The temptation has passed.

Out of the haze of my thoughts, Talia's voice says, "I yield."

"Stop."

The music vanished. I drove my sword into the floor, grinning in triumph. Not just triumph over Talia - I beat the temptation to kill, as well. I felt proud of myself.

"A good first try," Talia said.

I stared at her. "First try? We've been fighting for an hour at least! And I beat you. Isn't that enough?"

"Almost." Talia got to her feet. "But you're distracted. You're letting your mind run away while your body is occupied. I can see you thinking, even while we fight."

I frowned. "I… maybe a little bit. But I can think and fight at the same time."

"Yes, but each is hampered by the other. There is a time to think, and a time to fight. Fight now. Think on your own time."

"But the only music I have is fighting music!"

"Then, for now, we will practice fighting."

I huffed. "Fine." I massaged my temples. The headache was back. "Is there some kind of…"

"After effect?" Talia nodded. "Yes, Jeremiah reported the same thing when he was using his chip for the first time. It will fade after a while."

"The more I use it, right?"

"Right."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. "Fine. I'll keep sparring."

"Good. Then let's try again."

/

I didn't just spend my time fighting with Talia. As my skills got better, Ra's seemed to take more and more of an interest in me. He invited me to dinner several times, over which we would talk about my abilities. He seemed especially keen on comparing me with my brother, and had a servant to the side taking notes to pass on to the infamous Doctor Li. On occasion, he invited Jem as well, and we would sit awkwardly side by side as Ra's shamelessly weighed our powers and abilities against each other. At least the food was good.

Afterward, there were late nights, when I would look up from a restless sleep to see Jem at the window, asking to be let in. The first couple times he did this, we would carry a short, uncomfortable conversation and then sit in silence until one of us made up an excuse to part ways.

But after a week or so, he started to grow on me. I found in him an unexpected friend and confidant. We steered away from the controversial topics - like Ra's al Ghul's moral code, my life with Mom and Dad, and other touchy stuff - but anything else was up for discussion.

I found out he knew a little something about dreams and what they mean. Just to test him, I told him about the dream I had that first night, about shrinking into nothing.

"You were overwhelmed," he said, without missing a beat. "You'd been through so much change so suddenly, you felt like you were too small to handle it all." He smiled. "Don't worry; you're handling it just fine."

I slept so little now, I didn't have many other dreams to shoot his way; so, the next couple nights, I thought of old nightmares, like the recurring dream I had of running from a tsunami, or the one where I had to go through an unending series of tight spaces. Every dream he interpreted helped me learn more about myself. And, I could tell, he was learning about me, too. I didn't expect that to become so deep.

On a lighter note, he told me about making his Oddjob mask, how he was inspired by Chinese Peking opera masks and the symbolism behind them. The different colors each had a meaning; he chose red, purple, and black – all the symbolic colors of a hero, showing discipline, intelligence, and bravery. I was a little put off by his seeming arrogance at first. But then I got this silly little image in my head of Jem – baby Jem, the little five-year-old – showing the mask to Mom like it was a craft he had made. He was so proud of his work, that I couldn't help but praise it.

Many nights, I complained about training - how much it hurt, how hard Talia was pushing me - and he would console me by saying that everyone who ever went through Ra's al Ghul's system endured the same thing. Sometimes, we didn't even talk; we would sit and read books from Ra's' library, or practice balancing on the bedsteads, or even just lie on the floor with our feet propped up on the wall, watching the moonlight travel from one side of the room to the other. I remember once, we even had a pillow fight - and trust me, with a member of the League of Assassins on one side, and a ninja-in-training on the other, it was probably the most intense pillow fight in the history of the universe.

I got so comfortable with him that I started to wonder if I could… forgive me, Lord, I thought I could use him. He had said there was a massive computer somewhere that he had used to watch me. The more I fought using Talia's provided instrumentation as a trigger, the more stale the music felt, and the more I wished for some new stimuli. That computer could provide me with tons of music.

But when I broached the subject with Jem, he shut me down almost instantly.

"It's one of Ra's' best kept secrets. He didn't even let me see it without taking me there blindfolded. Even if I could take you, I'd be betraying his trust."

We knew not to pursue that subject further. But the computer tugged at my mind. I suggested it a couple more times, and each time all I got was tight lips. The burning curiosity got worse and worse, until I was completely fed up. I was sick of drumbeats. I had to have heard them all. It was time for a change.

/

The moment Jem swung into the room, I sat up in bed and shot him a fierce glare.

"I need to use that computer," I said.

Jem sighed. "Not tonight, Sam."

"I need more music," I said. "I've been using drums and whatever those weird Egyptian horns are…"

"It's a ney. More of a woodwind than a horn, really."

"Whatever. It's gotten old. I need to experiment, to try something new."

"Why? It's all music - it would all have the same effect."

"Unless it wouldn't," I said, leaning toward him. "I've been thinking about this. I have this… feeling. Like there's more that I could do, but I can't unlock it. The drums sort of hint at it, but they don't let me access it. I want to know if other kinds of music might help me get through."

"You can't use the computer," Jem said firmly.

"Are you worried I'll steal all of your secrets? I'm not-"

I'd almost said Tim Drake. I winced inside. I hadn't thought of Tim in a while. Now wasn't a good time.

"I'm not a genius. I don't think I could hack Ra's al Ghul's super-secret computer if he told me to."

"With your chip working, you might. I have. It's one of the tests Li had me perform."

"So, he might do the same for me."

"He's more interested in your fighting abilities at the moment."

"Yes, but I've done that! I can't do that forever! I need something else. I need a change."

"Ra's will grant you privileges like that when you're ready."

"How am I not ready, Jem? Huh? How am I not up to his standards yet? I've been here for over a month. Yes, I've been counting. Captives do it all the time."

Jem flinched. "Sam, you're not a…"

"A captive? I've been kidnapped, Jem. Face it. Ra's kidnapped me. Maybe it's for a reason, yes, but sometimes kidnappers have reasons. Like how Ra's kidnapped you, so he could implant a biochip into your cerebral cortex and force you to become a freaking assassin."

"Nobody forced me into anything," Jem said, his voice dangerously level.

"Okay, then, coerced, if you will. He's still using you! Using the powers he's planted in your brain to do his dirty wor-"

"SHUT UP!"

I scowled at my brother. He was standing with his back to me, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched.

"You know why we don't talk about this, Sam. Drop it now, and let's move on to something we can both agree on. Okay?"

"You think there's going to be a better time to talk about it?" I crossed my arms. "The way I see it, you're a pawn - a pawn captured by the other side and then forced to play for them. Your loyalty to Ra's doesn't matter. He would force you to play for him even if you hated his guts, like I do. You're just as much a hostage here as I am."

Jem whirled around and threw a flying punch at my head. But I wasn't helpless anymore. I deflected it easily, catching his wrist as it passed. I reached out and grabbed his opposite shoulder, then pushed and pulled at the same time to wrestle him onto the bed. He leaned back and wrapped a leg around my head, toppling me off the bed. As I fell, I pulled him with me; we started wrestling wildly on the ground, ignoring our training and just punching, pushing, pulling, doing whatever we could to try to get the upper hand.

Then, out of the blue, Jem yelled, "Samantha!"

I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. The instant my name passed his lips, his eyes went wide, his pupils dilated, and every movement he made was twice as powerful as before. I barely threw a punch before he had pinned me to the ground, one arm behind my back.

"I have the advantage," Jem said, panting. "I can trigger a connection with one word. How foolish, to choose a stimulant that requires outside help. You will always be weaker than I am."

"You used your chip," I growled, my cheek pressed to the floor. "No fair."

"Life isn't fair," Jem hissed in my ear. "Better to learn that now, little sister. Life will never be fair, so stop acting so entitled."

"Entitled?! Who's the one acting entitled? With all of your purpose and privileges, thinking you're going to be the one to make the world a better place—"

"Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it's not the truth. Ra's needs me. And the world needs Ra's al Ghul. It logically follows that I am a necessary piece in the puzzle of Earth's future…"

"Samantha!"

Jem laughed. "Nice try, but only I can do that."

"Get off me, you… you traitor!"

"Who did I betray? Mom and Dad never knew; they would never have cared if I were a lawyer, a painter, or an assassin. I was dead to them. And now they're dead for good, so what do they matter?"

"Do you think that means they can't see you?"

"Don't tell me you believe in Heaven."

"What if I do? I believe they're still with me. I believe they can see you, and all the ways that you've abandoned them and the things they taught you!"

"What would that matter to me?" Jem snarled. "What does their teaching mean to me? What did I learn, besides 'share nicely?' 'Be kind?' None of that works in the real world. The real world takes advantage of the generous and hates the kind. The future will only ever be influenced by those who gain power and use it."

"Mom and Dad…"

"Were kind, right? They were good? That's what you were thinking? Well, what did that ever do for them? Oh, sure, they were kind. They were nice. And now they're dead. They left nothing behind - did nothing for the future of this world. What does their kindness and niceness matter to anyone now? Pathetic."

"Jem, stop it!"

"Your weakness is your heart, little sister! Give them up, and you will begin to understand the truth. The truth I found. Yield, and let me teach you!"

I had no words. I screamed at him, my eyes streaming tears of pain and anger. I wrestled against him, but he had me in a tight grip. I couldn't move. In that moment, I hated him. So I cried.

After a moment, Jem stopped putting so much pressure on me. Softly, I heard him say, "Samantha."

I cradled my twisted arm, lying on the floor, sobbing. Jem sat back, silent. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at those wild, angry, intelligent eyes. That wasn't my brother. It was a power-hungry, psychopathic, delusional monster.

Minutes passed. My sobs died down, and in the silence, I began to feel empty. I was so tired of this - loving my brother, yet fighting against him, hating his mentor and the beliefs they shared; gaining knowledge I didn't want, and powers I never asked for; being closer to my family than I had been in months, and somehow feeling even more isolated.

I felt something nudge my foot. Jem was trying to get my attention. I didn't want to give it to him.

Then I heard him speak, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

I stayed still, staring at the shadows under the bed. Isn't that what I wanted? For him to be sorry? I was tired, and alone, and homesick. I wanted to love him. But how could I, when I would always disagree with him?

Then it hit me. Did I have to agree with him to love him? I could love him as much as I wanted. I was allowed to love him as much as my heart was begging me to. Because, like Mom said all those years ago, love was about wanting the best for someone. Wanting them to have the best possible life. No matter whether they were there yet or not.

I got up and crawled to my brother, then curled up next to him. He went tense for a minute, but when I didn't move again, he started to relax. He didn't reach out for me or touch me. He just sat, perfectly still, like he was waiting.

He was waiting for me. I filled the silence.

"I forgive you."

I could hear him as he sighed out a pent-up breath. All was forgiven. Everything was alright now. He and I both felt it, like a much-needed cool breeze.

I felt a looming sense of suspicion that I would have to forgive him a lot before all of this was over. But I would do it wholeheartedly. No matter if he was an assassin, had killed people, believed something I couldn't - I loved him. With a power that shook my heart, I loved him. I would never stop giving him second chances.

We fell asleep, right there on the floor, lying side by side.