Nope, still don't own. Slightly messing with canon here, but I hope you can forgive. I figure shows do it all the time without explanation; call it 'artistic license.' Does that make it okay? Thanks, wtchcool, for your review!
It was a shocked and stumbling Dana Faraday that emerged from the sleek Ark vehicle that stopped in front of the DA's office. The blonde woman clutched a sheet of paper so hard it was crumpling. Six hours. She had six hours to find the Cape and lure him into a trap. Trip would be fine. He couldn't die of starvation in six hours. Of boredom, maybe, but not of neglect. All Dana had to do was go to the man who had saved her life and looked out for her son and betray him to his capture, revelation, and almost certainly his death.
I can't think about that. Trip is more important.
Some small part of Dana's brain was still working, however. Fleming doesn't know about Orwell, she thought. Or Max. She wouldn't lead Ark to them if she could help it. If I have to sacrifice someone, it will be as few someones as I can make it. She drove home first, to shower, change, and switch her cell phone for the clean one that Orwell had thoughtfully left behind when she'd left, the first and only time she had seen the young woman. If Fleming had had her bugged, or tracked, or anything of that sort, she was determined to get it off before setting out to find the Cape. Halfway through, her preparations struck her as slightly ridiculous. What am I now, a spy? On the other hand... I'm rescuing my kidnapped child by bringing a villain a caped superhero. She had to laugh, bitterly, at the situation. Dorothy, we are not in Kansas anymore.
She drove out to Trolley Park, but the grounds were deserted. Dana felt her gut clench. What if she couldn't find him? Would Fleming really let Trip die just because Dana couldn't find the Cape? Surely he could be reasonable; it wouldn't be her fault if she couldn't find the vigilante-superhero. All of Ark's enforcers put together hadn't been able to manage it; what did he expect of her?
Everything.
Fleming wasn't quite sane. What had Marty said? He'd stapled a Chess mask to her husband's head and then sent him off like a deer among wolves, to be gunned down without a chance. Would he kill Trip if Dana didn't come through?
Yes.
Dana set out into the maze of abandoned buildings, shacks, and assorted large debris. It was a maze, and three turnings in, she was utterly lost. Doggedly, she kept searching, looking for a landmark, any landmark that might look familiar. But between the adrenaline, gunshots, and the utter terror that had pursued her that day, and the confusing nature of the carnival grounds themselves, she couldn't be sure about any of it. It was a house of mirrors writ large-scale. Finally, Dana stopped, staring at her watch. Four of her precious six hours had passed.
What would happen if she couldn't find the Cape in time for this rendezvous? Would Fleming grant her an extension? More to the point, would he grant Trip an extension? Would he at least allow her boy to be fed; or would her son starve until she succeeded? Frustration boiled up in her and Dana screamed, "Cape! Cape, I need you, Cape!"
"You called?"
The voice at her back made her whirl with a shout, fists raised. The masked figure behind her raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, easy."
Dana's frustration found a new way to vent itself. "Never tell me you were watching me this whole time!" she demanded angrily, before she could stop herself. No, don't yell, you need him. If he got mad and left, vanished in a puff of smoke...!
But the figure, rather than getting angry, looked chagrined. How can a featureless mask look chagrined? "I'm sorry," he said in that curiously husky voice of his. "But I had to make sure you were alone."
They stood staring at one another for a long moment, before the Cape asked, "Why did you come here?"
Dana felt a genuine quaver in her voice. She'd decided to keep her story as close to the truth as she could, to lend plausibility and to reduce the chance of slipping up. "It's my son, Trip," she said, and swallowed hard. "Fleming took him."
"What?!" The Cape went from casual-tense to straight-up rigid. He grabbed her by the upper arms, staring into her eyes with an intensity that burned. It was the first time he'd ever looked at her straight on, Dana realized. "When? How?"
"I...I know where he is," she said in a shaking voice, "but I can't get to him on my own. I need your help."
She'd thought she would have to beg, to plead. Probably not very much, but a little, at least. Instead, the only pleading she had to do was to beg him to slow down as he dragged her through the maze she'd just tortuously navigated, his long legs eating up the dusty ground as he led her to the parking lot.
Dana was taken aback when she realized that the Cape intended to get to the meeting place in her car. "Don't you have a, I don't know, Cape-mobile or something?" she asked as she unlocked her doors. The masked vigilante didn't reply as he plucked the keys from her fingers and slid into the driver's seat. Dana climbed into the passenger side before he could protest, and he wisely didn't say a thing. She vaguely wondered what her expression was, that he didn't object as he turned the ignition and put the car into drive.
"Don't you think you're a little conspicuous?" she asked, staring at the mask and hood he still wore. In answer, he flipped up the center console, pulled out Vince's old ball cap and stuck it on his head over the hood. Close-up, the effect was ridiculous, but the silhouette probably looked close enough to normal that it would make little difference. Fortunately, the shadows of evening made it hard for other drivers to see inside the car, and Dana figured that would have to be enough. He kept his head slightly averted from her, as was his habit.
Their destination was twenty minutes away; thirty, if traffic didn't cooperate. They would be just in time. Dana didn't know if she ought to feel relieved or disappointed. Trip. Think of Trip.
"You took a chance, coming to get me the way you did." The Cape's voice was loud in the silence. "Thank you."
"No. Don't thank me." Dana didn't think she could take it if he thanked her for this. "I'm just a mother who is wildly worried about her son."
The Cape wouldn't meet her eyes. "And so I thank you for trusting me enough to save him. I'm not sure I could trust another person to save my son."
The wash of guilt stole her breath. "...you have a son?" she whispered, and the Cape averted his eyes, taking a great deal of interest in the side view mirror.
"I'd do anything for him," he said at last, and flipped on the radio, effectively ending the conversation. He switched between stations until he found one that was evidently to his liking. The song was one that Vince had liked, and Dana felt herself near to tears at the memory.
What would Vince have done? If he'd been asked to betray a good man, her husband would have refused point-blank. It wasn't in his character to deceive anybody, and he would never leave a man behind. What would Vince say if he could see her now, casually driving a man to his almost certain death?
He'd be ashamed of me. She knew it. But Trip...! He'd have figured out another way. He would have. Vince would never have let another man walk into a trap if Vince could possibly have warned him.
But I'm not Vince! she wailed to herself. I'm not as strong as he is. I can't risk Trip, not for anything. Not even for him. Who she meant by 'him,' Dana did not know. And she did not know if she spoke the truth to herself, or lies.
From the corner of her eye, she watched the man who was currently driving her car. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help herself. The hints he'd dropped about his past, his family... he wasn't just a mask and a cape. She shied from thinking those thoughts, but like a scab over a painful wound, she kept circling back to pick at them. What would motivate a man to leave his family and play superhero? What could his motivations possibly be? Perhaps he just didn't care about them. Perhaps he was just selfish, to save the world and let his family go hang. Yes. That had to be the answer. Dana latched on to that thought and clung to it. Such a selfish man deserved to die. His widow would thank her for it, surely, her faithless husband getting what he deserved. But he was in her car, driving to save a boy he barely knew, for a woman he had met only twice before. Were those the actions of a selfish man?
Dana banished the thought and her tears as they pulled into the parking lot of the big, now empty, office building that stood at the address that she'd been given. As the Cape put the car into park, Dana reached out and rested her hand on his, an impulse. The leather glove was a smooth cover over taut muscles and tendons. A strong hand. The Cape froze under her touch.
"...thank you," she said, and her voice came out in a choked whisper. The Cape flashed her a reassuring smile, and her heart nearly stopped, his smile was so much like Vince's. Her hand squeezed tight on his.
"...wait," she whispered, and he stopped. Squeezing her eyes shut, she stammered, "I have something to tell you, but promise me that you'll still go inside. For my son. For Trip."
There was a long moment of silence before his voice answered, "I promise. What...?"
Still with her eyes closed, face contorted with agony, Dana whispered, "It's a trap. Fleming made me bring you here, now. It's not a rescue; it's a hostage exchange."
The hand disappeared from under hers, and Dana opened her eyes in horror. What had she just done...?
