I own nothing

I want apologize beforehand for any grammar/spelling mistakes and for any OOCness

Time during the Christmas season moves in odd ways. On the one hand, it feels like it's moving about as fast as a snail, and on the other it's suddenly Christmas Eve and you still have half your Christmas shopping to do and you wonder how December could have passed so quickly.

Unfortunately for Jason, it was the previous. He didn't know how Talia could possibly call this "testing," but as he stood in a room about twenty by twenty in ankle deep saltwater crackling with electricity, he found time moved incredibly slowly.

He shook with the effort not to scream, searching for a way out although he knew there was none. He gripped his hair in one hand and punched the wall with the other, causing tremors down his already shaking form.

Ragged breath and gritting teeth were the only things he had to relieve the pain, no matter how ineffective they were. He stumbled, falling to his hands and knees and screaming in pain as more of his body was exposed to the electricity.

He dragged himself up, collapsing in the corner as his feet continued to be bitten with electricity. The saltwater did nothing to help, fluidly and silkily gliding around his most likely bleeding feet. Curse its conductivity.

Talia seemed to be doing everything eldest to youngest, so Jason knew Dick had gone before him, meaning that unfortunately he was sure that if he could see in the darkness the water would have been red before he had tainted it himself.

He scrunched his eyebrows as the electricity grew steadily stronger. He gasped as a particularly strong shock ripped up his leg, he started slipping down on the wall, hot tears stinging as they slid down his face.

He crumpled, electricity reaching up his body. The pain became too much.

Jason groaned, screeching in surprise as he dragged his feet towards him. He looked down to see them red and glistening, as if they'd been skinned alive. Must have been the electricity.

He barely had time to register he had probably blacked out before he felt a swish and instinctually rolled. A sword was implanted where his head had been. He grimaced and staggered to his feet, nearly getting sliced in half by the assassin.

"What, are you trying to kill me?!" he yelled as the assassin came at him again. Generally, it wasn't too difficult to defeat one average assassin-ninja, but when it was utter agony to just let his tortured feet lay limp, imagine what it felt like to be fighting on them.

Typically, the assassin said nothing, coming at him again. Jason winced as he moved and grimaced in pain, an unusually expressive look on his face. He twisted to the best of his abilities, crying out in pain as he did a crouching sweep-kick. The assassin easily jumped, but hadn't expected Jason to snatch his ankles, sending him to the ground where he then snapped the wrist backwards with more force than was necessary, causing the assassin to not only release his grip on the sword, but landing him with a broken wrist.

Jason then used the butt of the sword to knock his opponent out cold, grunting and yelping in pain as he pulled away, moving to lean against the wall. On the opposite side of the room, a door slid open, showing only shadows beyond.

He growled in pain and really wished he could walk in his hands like Dick. Sure, he could hold a handstand for about five minutes, but Dick could walk on his hands like a second pair of legs.

Refusing (because he was fairly certain they had cameras hidden about the room) to show his torture, he stood and carefully walked to the door and into a very twisty hall. He let a few tears of pain slip as he left bloody red footprints on the ground, his seemingly skinless feet telling him to just fall down and die.

He sighed, but eventually reached the end of the hall, a single metal door looming in front of him. It slid open revealing only darkness. He grit his teeth and stumbled through. The door slid shut behind him.

He was momentarily blinded and stumbled over as the room abruptly lit up and moved to the left. He fell down, no longer able to stand on the red blobs he called feet.

As his eyes adjusted he found himself in a glass box, a large one, but small. It was just large enough to fit a small bed with black sheets and a single black comforter, a glass desk with a small half-circle which he instantly recognized as a holo-computer, and a hanger rack with four more outfits like his current one. And- thank heaven- a roll of bandages, some hand towels, and a single pain-killer pill.

He took the pill dry and grabbed the towels, gently rubbing off the blood. It hurt like heck, to say the least. He then carefully bandaged his feet tightly, sighing in relief as he did.

When Jason finished, he decided to try and see what was on the other side of the glass. It was a large room, with five other glass cells. The one right by him was occupied.

Dick. He sighed in relief. Dick waved in a completely Dick-like way, a carefree smile on his face as he sat on the bed as if he was waving at his brother on the bus. Jason snorted when he realized both Dick's feet and hands were wrapped, suggesting his brother had taken some time on them to lessen the burden his feet had to bear.

Concealing his pain at moving his hands, Dick started signing, hoping Jason would catch the gist. This is what Jay understood through his limited knowledge of ASL: "You OK?"

Jason nodded.

"You… hurt?"

He shrugged.

"I… no… like room."

Attempting to fill in the blanks, he figured the signs he didn't recognized added up to Dick basically saying he didn't like to be on display in a glass room. In response, he pointed to himself and shook his head to attempt to communicate "Neither do I."

"Change?"

Jason raised his eyebrow and pointed at the clothes at the rack. Dick nodded. He thought a moment before signing to the best of his abilities. "Show… them."

Dick nodded in understanding, his brother didn't want to change when they were in a room where assassins were most likely watching them. He insisted, though, signing: "You are wet and bloody. You may not want to, but you should."

Jason got: "You wet blood. No want. Do." He rolled his teal eyes, nevertheless changing in the most discrete way possible. He sighed, much happier now that his feet were bandaged, the pain-killer was kicking in, and in dry clothes. He curled up on the bed, but still had too much pride to use the blanket.

Dick rolled his eyes, but grinned madly as he did a back-bend, crawling down between his legs and holding his thighs in that creepy way that sent shivers up Jason's spine. Then the lights went out. When they turned back on, Stephanie was shivering and crying, clutching bloody feet in her equally bloody hands. She was gasping, her blonde hair ratty and wet.

She was directly to his right, so Jason made his way over on his knees to bang on the wall. Eventually, she looked up dully, eyes widening in surprise as she saw her brother. He pointed to the desk, her room was identical his and Dick's, to where the medical supplies sat.

She nodded, pain apparent in the glistening trails on her cheeks. She quickly took the pain-killer, toweling and wrapping her feet with much gasping and grimacing. When she was done she grabbed the comforter and changed under it. Why didn't I think of that? Jason thought sourly as he watched the ridiculously simple way of receiving privacy to change.

She then crawled into the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She looked up at Jason with wide eyes, pointing frantically at the bed.

He frowned, having no idea what she wanted.

She pursed her lips in a pout, pointing at him, then pointing at his bed. He raised an eyebrow but crawled onto it. Stephanie shook her head to herself, picking up and pointing at the comforter.

"What?" he asked, even though he knew she couldn't hear him.

"Get. Under. The. Blan-ket." She mouthed slowly. He shrugged and complied, and the minute he curled up underneath it, he understood what she'd been trying to say.

The bed. Was so. Fricking. Comfortable.

He raised his eyebrows, suspicious. Why, especially after what just happened before he came in, did Talia give him a comfortable bed? It made no sense! He grudgingly curled up further, enjoying the super soft blanket and ridiculously comfortable, if a bit small, mattress- but he was definitely still suspicious.

The lights went out again, and Jason was immediately pressed up against the glass, trying to get a view of Tim, who he figured was next, being the fourth oldest.

Sure enough, directly across from Dick, Tim was calmly beginning to clean his feet. Jason had a sudden thought at how Tim was probably the mentally strongest, even if the most physically hindered of the whole Batfam, and how out of all of them he was probably in the most pain, yet the calmest and most collected.

Eventually Tim looked up, eyes widening as he took in the room. His hands went into hyperdrive, madly signing at Dick, the only one who knew ASL besides himself.

Dick nodded, signing back. He was much slower than Tim, as his hands were fried, allowing Jason to get the idea of what he was saying. "Yes. Ok. You ok?"

Tim signed back to him. Jason resolutely decided he would double his efforts to learn ASL in the future. It took a little while, but eventually the lights went out again. When the lights blinked back into focus, Cass was standing in a defensive position, quickly taking in her surroundings. When she saw it was her siblings and only them, she relaxed slightly, but still kept a sharp eye out.

Unfortunately, she didn't think of mending her feet, instead ignoring them to protectively sit vigilant over her brothers and sister. Interesting fact, Jason recalled, remembering some tests Bruce had put them through, the person with the highest pain tolerance was Dick, the person who felt pain the least was Cass, the person with the lowest pain tolerance was Tim and the person who felt pain the most was Damien. He was good at not showing it, but he was definitely the most sensitive to his nerves.

Tim started banging on the glass until Cass looked at him, and he began talking. Cass could read lips, but only simple words as she herself could only understand simple words. She scowled, but stood and stomped childishly over to the medical supplies to bandage up her feet. She finished, jutting out her chin and shaking her head as if saying, "is that good enough for you?!"

Tim rolled his tiffany eyes and climbed, careful of his feet, onto his bed. Cass huffed, sitting on the floor. The lights flickered out again.

When they turned back on, Dami was to be found fuming in the last glass room directly in across from Steph, his jaw set and his feet just a fried as the rest of theirs. "MOTHER!" he screamed to no avail, the sound-proof glass containing it.

Well, nothing really interesting happened from then on… except for a sorry excuse for a conversation about how nice the beds were.

Selina woke up in her room, stretching as luxuriously as a cat before making her way to her bathroom for a quick shower, donning a black button up, red cami, skinny jeans, and knee-high boots with three inch heels.

She finished untangling her hair, sliding into the dining room where breakfast was already sitting. She ate it quickly, heading down to the Batcave.

Sure enough, Selina found Bruce sitting in front of the batcomputer. He held his head in his gloves hands, his cowl limp against his back.

She slid up next up to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "What are we going to do?" he whispered brokenly.

"I dunno…" she answered in a whisper. "Found anything?"

"No! I can't even fathom what they want!" he cried.

"Well, we have a day to think about it. What are the hints so far?"

"Hints?" He gave her a confused look.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me the mighty Batman hasn't seen any hints!"

"She told us not to look for them." He excused rather dumbly.

Selina sighed in exasperation. "We won't look for them, per say, just find out what the demons want."

Bruce trained those blue eyes on her. "And how might we do that?"

"Well, think of it so far: the symbolism of the song! You showed me the email, and you say she always called you 'Beloved.' I'd guess this is more of a Talia thing, so it's personal. But if she is using Ra's resources then her personal vendetta will benefit him in a great part as well. The first note said 'Don't look for them.' That could mean more, and the second was: 'You once were mine.' Come on, Bruce! You're the detective, so why am I doing all the work?!"

He looked at the feline beauty beside him, a near-smile entering his eyes. "That is why you love me." She voiced his thoughts with a smile.

"You're right." She knew that voice. That was the Batman voice, the cool, detached Batman. Not Daddy!Bats, that would hinder him. She wished there was a different way, but him getting to emotionally invested would just cause for drama, if he became the usual Batman, he'd be able to think clearer. And that's what they needed right now, clear thoughts.

"So," she said. "What's your analysis?"

"This is more of a personal interest, but I also believe that Talia is doing this to benefit Ra's as well, she's always been like a dog to its master with him." He paused, thinking.

"Could, 'Don't look for them' mean something more than just threats?" she asked again.

"Perhaps. Talia and Ra's have never been those for riddles, but they like to play with their pray, mainly Talia. They like to make people think, to play with their minds- giving them multiple scenarios as to why they are doing what they are doing, with a twisted but generally rather simple actual objective." He told her thoughtfully.

"Do you think they'll hurt them?" she asked, letting a little bit of her maternal side show through.

"Without a doubt, but the question is, why will they hurt them?" He sighed.

They talked for hours, trying to come to any conclusion they could. But in the end, something was abundantly clear: they were going to have to wait.

With their hands tied in fear of losing one or more of the kids if they attempted to find them, and hints only coming every night, they were just two parents with so much power but not being able to do a thing. It was torture.

In the end, Selina found herself taking out her angers on a punching bag, feeling a little cliché as she found a picture of Talia Bruce had from years ago and taping it near the top of the bag. Cliché or not, it was ridiculously relaxing.

Bruce, meanwhile, was taking out his anger on the keyboard of the batcomputer, feeling ridiculously frustrated as he couldn't even focus on cracking a simple drug heist done by The Ghangtsahs, an amateur group of wannabes that had started their action about a month ago. At least it was winter break ad he didn't have to come up for an excuse as to why the kids weren't attending school. Nothing, really- but little things, right?

He growled, banging his hand down in unison with the doorbell. He jumped up, and not minding to change as he rushed upstairs to meet Selina, who was already at the door.

They took a long look at each other before turning to the door.

"Wanna' tell me why you have chickens on the doorstep, and you haven't been answering my calls?" a low voice asked when the door was open.

Bruce and Selina exchanged looks before the cat turned back to the twenty some-odd year old black haired, blue eyes young man in the doorway. "Terry!"

Bruce nearly face-palmed. How had he forgotten? Tonight he, Nightwing, Robin, and Red Bat, aka Dick, Jay, and Terry, were going to take out a heroin ring!

Terry glared at his father figure from across the table. "Let me get this straight." He said in a very low voice. "All of my little siblings were captured. By the League of Assassins. And you didn't tell me?!"

"Ter! Calm down, it's been a crazy past couple days, we didn't mean to exclude you-"

"Cut the crap, Selina. This exactly what Batman does. He doesn't tell me because I don't need to know. It doesn't concern me. More importantly, he needs to keep his failure of letting his fricking kids get kidnapped in his own fricking house right from under his nose a secret! So does he tell me? No!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. Selina began to fume. "Now listen here, young man." She hissed. "He may not have raised you very well, but he sure as heck is trying with the rest of the kids! You may despise how he does things, but guess what? Without him you would be dead! Now, you are going to stop wallowing in anger about not being told that they're gone, and actually do something! Do I make myself clear?!"

"You're not my moth-"

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR."

"Y… es."

Selina glared at him. "Good. Now hand me the hens."

Terry glared at the cat. He'd grown up with Bruce's love interest being Diana, but he'd always had his mom, Mary. Selina was just a nobody with nice features Bruce would cast off eventually… right?

Either way, he sniffed, storming out of the den and down to the Batcave. Still in the den, Selina turned to Bruce. "He's too much like you." She huffed, looking over the French Hens.

Selina bit her lip. "I can't find anything."

"It has to be there." Bruce growled.

Sure enough, after another several minutes searching, they found that they had left behind a small ring box outside. They opened it, taking out the paper fitted where the ring would usually be.

Now you and the Cat are each-others

Blame the computer. It pooped out on me last night when this chapter was nearly finished, and I've been working hard to redo it all.

Reviews are... you know what? You get it by now, so won't you get in the holiday cheer and give me a little present, even if it's only a word? Please?

I should be able to update tomorrow.

Thanks you guys for reviewing, following, and favoriting, and know this you guys and gals- even if you don't believe in God, someone cares about YOU. Me. I don't need to even know who you are or what you look like... I'm just that kind of person. Love you guys and happy holidays!

~Universe