All characters, settings etc associated with Young Justice, DC and Disney are not owned by me. I am not making any profit off this fiction venture.

Chapter Warning(s): violence, coarse language, femslash

Edit: 04/02/13

Maelstrom

Kalladura'ham

"Whenever you're in conflict with someone, there is one factor that can make the difference between damaging your relationship and deepening it. That factor is attitude."

William James

4

Poseidonis, Atlantis : May 6, 2009 – 14:16 UTC-03

"What about this?" questions Tula, holding out a tower bangle for my inspection.

I take the bracelet from her, ignoring the butterflies as her fingers brush across my own because I know she isn't interested in me, she isn't interested in girls. I know that, so I am going to shove the affections away as far as possible because it will lead to nothing.

It will work. I swear it will.

Hopefully.

I focus on the bangle, turning it over in my fingers, looking with a critical eye at the stones. I thank my matim making jewelry and selling it in her sorcery accessories shop for a living for my knowledge of Atlantean jewelry. Tula is swimming a couple feet away and examining a headband, her short red hair being rustled slightly by the water.

This would be so much easier to deal with if it was Garth I held affections for. At least there's a possibility, however diminutive, of him returning my affections.

I inwardly sigh and swim to Tula, critiquing the bangle, "It has good construction but is grossly overpriced."

She smiles at me, a dimple on her left cheek beneath a gathering of freckles making me mentally swear and wish I was on a mission instead of agreeing to accompany Tula on her quest for jewelry to wear to one of her old friend's older sister's wedding. Garth had managed to avoid the shopping trip entirely, citing being male as an excuse. Which it wasn't, and both Tula and I were aware of that fact. We didn't bother to chide him into accompanying us though. He didn't mind clothes shopping. It was jewelry shopping that irritated him. He inevitably wound up breaking something whenever he was around jewelry.

He is forbidden from ever opening my jewelry drawer again.

It took Matim and I five hours to repair all of my anklets.

"Suppose I will not buy it then," Tula says, taking the bangle from me and squeezing past me to return it to its display.

I know her freckles continue across her chest. It is awkward knowledge at the moment.

"I really just want a bangle of some sort," Tula sighs, turning away from the necklace.

"No anklet?" I question, moving over to a display of anklets – my one weakness. Next to jackets. I have a weakness for surface-world jackets. Annex Orin has ordered Roy to stop me from buying jackets whenever we find ourselves in a store. It has become a problem.

She chuckles, well aware of my weakness for anklets, "No, no anklet. And we're shopping for me Kalla, not you."

"I am perfectly capable of ignoring anklets," I argue.

"No, you're not," she grabs my arm and drags me away from the beautiful display of anklets. Even though there was a gorgeous gold one with purple stones bordered by some exquisite carving that I need.

I need it.

I swear.

"Kalla," Tula faces me. She cocks an eyebrow as I switch my gaze abruptly from the gorgeous anklet back to her. Her nose scrunches up slightly as she makes an irritated face, "I need your help."

She looks adorable when she scrunches her nose up like that. I kind of want to irritate her more just to see her make that face. But I won't. I will be nice. I nod sharply, keeping myself from leaning down and kissing the tip of her scrunched-up nose as I am sorely tempted to, "I am here to serve."

She rolls her eyes, smiling, then turns and grabs another bangle off a display.

I follow her, offering my advice when asked. Within an hour we manage to locate the desired jewelry and return to the dorms. As Tula swims back to our formerly shared room to put away the jewelry I join Garth in the dormitory's common area.

He is clearly fretting over an assignment with Lori beside him, probably regretting having taken the upper level courses she took.

"I do not understand these equations at all," Garth laments.

Lori sighs, "Why did we leave this until the last minute again?"

"Because we are fools."

"Math?" I question, leaning over Garth's shoulder to look at his tablet. "Arithmancy?"

"Everything with numbers," Lori answers. "If this was History or Strategy and Tactics I would already be done but these equations make no sense whatsoever."

She is apparently one of the best in her Strategy and Tactics class. I, unfortunately, am not in that class, being privately tutored by a Governor who tailors my education to suit my job as Aqualass and my later job as…whatever I call myself when I am no longer Annex's protégé. Garth is similarly talented, as far as history goes, and sorcery – specifically the sorcery that demands more energy in general and less finesse – but he experiences some challenges in regards to mathematics and arithmancy.

Mathematics and Arithmancy, being two of the few courses in the Conservatory that did not require immense amounts of sorcery, I excelled – and still excel – at.

"What am I doing wrong, Kalla?" Garth questions, gesturing to his tablet.

I pull his stylus out of his hand and promptly cross out a number and explain, "You added 4 instead of 1."

Garth blinks and mutely takes the stylus.

"You are 9-1-8," I say, straightening up. "Interesting."

"I did the same thing," Lori groans.

"Am I calculating you correctly?" questions Garth, holding his tablet up again for me to inspect.

I grab it and look over the equation then nod, "Yes."

"You are 4-7-6?"

"Depends on what version of my name you use," I explain, handing him back the tablet. "Using 'Kalladura'ham' will get 4-7-6, using 'Kalla' will get 1-2-8, using 'Kalladura'ham D' – the name I usually use when places require at least a surname initial – will get 8-7-1, and using 'Aqualass' will get 1-6-4. I seem to always get multiples of 2, oddly enough, and usually a 1."

"Two?" Lori repeats, smirking. "Are you conflicted, Kalla?"

"Of course not."

"Nine is the complete number, correct?" Garth questions.

I nod in confirmation, "Yes, it is widely accepted as such."

"So my character number is 9, which, apparently, means I am complete. The 1 is my heart number…"

"Thus, you may wish to become a leader," I suggest. "Your social number does suggest that you present yourself as a shrewd businessman."

"…" Garth raises an eyebrow at me, "Me? A businessman?"

"You are adept at politics, that is…similar."

"Let's look at you," Garth suggests. "You, as 'Aqualass', have a character number of 1, which fits, you would have to be a leader in that position. Heart is 6 so you secretly want to gossip about the other superheroes and develop more friendship relationships rather than business. Social is 4 so you present yourself as reliable and in complete control."

"That sounds ideal for when you are rescuing civilians," Tula comments, gliding into the homework session. "Everything is chaotic around them, someone close to them might have died and you are there, solid, in-control, reliable. Probably helps."

"I thought you were friends with Speedy," Garth questions, frowning at me.

I nod, "I am."

"According to this," Garth holds up his tablet again, "you want more friendships."

"It is a job, not a social club. I am not there to build friendships."

"Why were my parents weird and decide to have a surname?" Lori questions as she makes a face at her tablet. "I feel as though my results are skewed because of it."

"What are they?" questions Tula.

"5-3-2."

"Sounds right to me," Tula says after a moment of contemplation.

"With the 5 it is saying that I am a flake!"

"That is not what 5 means," I argue. "Five usually represents adventure and energy. It is not an insult."

Lori frowns.

"Tula is 9-4-5," Garth announces. "She is complete, like me. She wants to be more like Aqualass is socially. Socially, she is adventurous and energetic."

Lori looks up at Tula. She nods, "Fits."

Tula cocks an eyebrow, "You just said that 5 is an insult."

Lori shrugs.

Tula opts to ignore it and questions them, "Kalla and I were going to head out of the city, would you like to come with us?"

"What are you doing?" Lori inquires.

"My matim knows of some caves, we are going to explore them," I explain.

"Thanks, but no. I had enough of caves on our expedition two weeks ago," Lori answers.

Garth shrugs, "I'll come."

Tula grins, clapping her hands, "Wonderful!"

She's a 9, complete, and her grin infects my stomach with butterflies. This could be a better situation. Much better.

Shayeris, Atlantis : October 1, 2009 – 12:13 UTC-03

Technically, I am off-duty today so I should not be working but it is also my matim's birthday today so I am working at the shop to give her a day off.

I have spent so much time in Poseidonis the past couple years that I had forgotten how much stuff was in Matim's shop.

The place is overflowing with various magical items she is either distributing for other sorcerers or produced herself, and jewelry is on every possible shelf and displayed beneath glass everywhere else. The shop is decorated to evoke a mysterious quality about it for the customers, but it simply makes me mellow.

I spend my time behind the desk, scrolling through my email and favourite websites, checking up on Pansy's Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr, and looking at all the articles on heroes and weaponry I can find. I have numerous documents on my tablet that are filled to the brim with my information on superheroes and villains, weaponry, strategy and tactics, and sorcery. There are a number of websites, blogs and online archives maintained by sorcerers that I frequent, hoping to keep myself updated on the current sorcery issues even though I may not be the best sorceress in the world.

Currently, the various protective groups around populated areas are prepping alongside the known werewolves for the full moon, so there are some blogs highlighting that preparation. I know that Matim's old skinshifter friends will be heavily involved in that. Daphne, I think, was one friend. People are also prepping for All Hallows Eve and getting excited about the various celebrations that will be occurring the world over.

I log onto The Aconite Post, the largest online paper that focuses on all things related to sorcery, magic, spirits, etcetera, by typing in my login and password and then sending a surge of self-energy into the tablet, just enough to assure the site that I was, in fact, who I said I was. Most people who disregard magic tend to view the online sorcery community as a parody, so we tend to be pretty well-protected from individuals wishing harm upon those who use magic but we still employ safeguards. This enables articles to continue to be published and our sorcery-only sites to remain running.

A few articles catch my eye:

Sirens slip out of Junction's West Pack's paws: 2 Dead

I hope that Matim reads this. I recall that she has friends in Junction City.

W.C.U. President Remus Lars promises 0 North American attacks this month

Were-Creatures United. They have been attempting to expand their membership globally in recent years. I hope Remus' promise is kept. I do not wish to face any were-creatures.

German Vampire Covens continue protest for full blood coverage by local leaders

This is not new, but it is best if I keep up-to-date on the issue regardless. Vampires are usually pretty well-behaved, the ones who adhere to their society's laws and traditions at least, but when they do misbehave the outcomes are, unfortunately, usually rather violent.

Team-Up between Anassa Mera and Aqualass bears fruit: Siren Supremacy leader Hen'aaa arrested

I really should team-up with Anassa more often. It is enjoyable. I also look forward to Hen'aaa's trial finishing quickly, she's murdered far too many people to get away unpunished.

Meet the new Pied Piper, Kiri

Hmmm, interesting. I wonder if she is proficient with the Pan Flutes?

It is always both satisfying and embarrassing to see my name in print.

The small light on the desk lights up as a customer enters the store. I look up, half paying attention to the customer, and half to the article about Sirens in Junction City. Almost immediately, my eyes widen.

PHSWIP!

I dive off my stool, the shot colliding with the wall right where my head would have been. Instantly I shoot out from behind the desk and head for the door to the back room.

PHSWIP!

I twist, forming a barely-there hardwater shield instinctively. The shot fizzles against the shield but sparks manage to jut through, burning small pieces of my bare shoulder.

I dart up, grabbing the man's wrist and straightening his arm before I slam my palm into his elbow and hook my foot around the back of his right knee to give me an opening to wrap my arm around his neck and use him as a shield while his partner shoots. The shot hits the man in the gut and I kick him straight toward his partner. I twist back, whipping my leg out to kick the stool towards the next attacker. The stool collides with his gut, not harmful, but distracting, and I summon another shield as I kick the desk, dislodging it from the floor and sending it careening straight into two others and a shelf.

Matim is going to kill me.

"ACK!"

I crash backwards, the shot fizzling against my left bicep. Immediately I turn and swim up, slamming my foot on a gun and flipping over the guy to kick him in the back of the neck. His armor cracks on impact and he crashes immediately into another person, crashing straight into a necklace display.

I dart behind a shelf, breathless. I definitely know those uniforms. I only looked over that file on Black Manta about sixteen times until I memorized it. Manta's lackeys were targeting me, in my Matim's shop, on my Matim's birthday, for some reason.

Inconsiderate.

I am wearing civvies now too: a blue, midriff-baring and sleeveless shirt with a pair of quite short aqua shorts and a small purple wrap skirt. I am not armoured. Nor do I have my water-bearers.

This is a problem.

I kick the shelf over, sending it crashing into two of my attackers. I take advantage of the commotion and dart out of the shop, shutting the door firmly behind me before I go straight up, attempting to get a better view of the commotion occurring outside. Black Manta's agents are overrunning this part of the city nearly completely. They are engaging every combat-trained individual they find but thankfully are not lethally attacking those who are not combat-trained. They seem to merely be pushing the non-combat-trained to the side. That is odd, but certainly not unheard of.

"Hi."

I stiffen and turn sharply to find a gun leveled at my forehead. The man holding the gun is wearing a large black helmet created to look vaguely like the body of a manta-ray with the bonus of large, bulbous, cherry-red eyes that I know shoot concussive, occasionally burning, blasts. His file labels him as Black Manta, his real name is unknown.

All I know about him is that my patera once worked for him, and, supposedly, Black Manta wants to rule Atlantis. I do not know if that is true or not as far as Black Manta is concerned, but for Annex that is the truth. I should probably approach my encounters with Black Manta with the thought that total domination is his end goal regardless.

Black Manta is supposed to be intelligent, a decent commander of his troops, so he probably knows how I fight with my sorcery. He will know that when my artificial channels glow that I am preparing an attack or defense and I rather doubt that will please him. I don't dare make a move to perform sorcery while his gun is resting against my forehead.

"Come with me and my operatives will pull back from Shayeris, Kalla," Black Manta says, his voice slightly altered by his mask and breathing apparatus.

It is not surprising that he knows my name. It is hardly a secret in Atlantis.

"Why should I trust you?" I challenge.

He lowers the gun, which does little because his agents – or, I suppose, operatives – are surrounding us and training their own guns on me. He shakes his head, "I don't want to hurt you, Kalla."

I glare at him.

I do not know what expression he is looking at me with, but there is a moment of silence and then my question is rendered inconsequential as two of his operatives move to cuff my hands behind my back. I feel the hands of his operatives tighten around my wrists and I turn slightly, spotting another operative approaching me from behind with an Atlantean syringe in his hand. My eyes widen and I move immediately. The hands tighten around my arms and suddenly Black Manta is wrapping his arms around my shoulders so I respond immediately, my artificial channels glowing and electricity beginning to…

Unknown : Unknown

Air.

The surface.

My eyes snap open.

I jerk upright and nearly fall straight backwards as my restraints tug on my wrists. My chest heaving, I look around hastily, my eyes darting about the surface-world room that…looks like a normal bedroom.

Granted, the bed is adjusted to include the restraints but otherwise the room looks like a normal bedroom.

The room is pretty large for a bedroom. The bed is in the far corner from the door. There is a closet across from me with sliding mirror doors that confirm that I have not been changed out of my Atlantean civvies. Beside the bed against the wall is a dresser painted white with an alarm clock that displays the time as 2:17am, though where it is 2:17am I do not know. There are two novels sitting on the dresser as well, one on Cleopatra that I read last year and another on British weaponry that I read six months ago. Beside the door is a desk sandwiched between two bookcases filled with books that I have either read or would probably wind up reading at some point interspersed with small statues of sea creatures, desert creatures, and one of Anassa Hi'denna, the longest-reigning Queen of Atlantis. Through her reign she managed to build up one of the most impressive militaries in Atlantean history and rule over one of the largest Atlantean territories ever. She was amazing. That figurine isn't what holds my attention though. It's what is on the desk. A lamp, yes, a notebook, yes, a collection of pens and pencils and markers, yes, but also two photographs. Photographs of me.

The one on the left, next to the lamp, is a photograph of me when I still had long hair. I remember that photograph. It was taken during one of our trips to the surface-world. Pansy and her family had been taking a vacation to Disneyland. They had stopped at a beach and we had met up with them. Pansy had a waterproof camera and her obsession then had been photography so she was determined to get an awesome shot of me underwater. We swam as far as she could and then, with her holding her breath and me completely comfortable, we went underwater. My gills are flaring in the photograph, my mouth is wide, I am grinning, my eyes are happy, my hair is all around me like a halo and there are bubbles at the bottom left corner of the picture from when Pansy started laughing underwater. My arms are out wide and my fingers are spread out so that you can see all of my webbing. I'm not wearing Atlantean clothing. I'm wearing a long-sleeved purple wetsuit that manages to hide most of my artificial channels. I was ten then.

The one on the right, next to the container of pens, pencils and markers, is a photograph of me when I was training with Prince Orm in firearms. I am wearing one of my usual training uniforms with the glyph of Atlantis at my belt and have weights strapped to my wrists, ankles, and belt. I had started training with weights when I was 13 to try and build up my strength to better be the 'muscle' when going on missions with the other protégés, so I must be 13, maybe early 14, in that photograph. My shirt bares my midriff and I am wearing shorts so I can see the scars I have on my midriff and legs from the few missions Annex and I had in Atlantis by that time.

I assume that I am with Black Manta so how does he have these photographs of me? All the books that I like and I've read…the colours of the walls and the sheets…blues and greens, my favourite, how does he know of these things? Does he know of Pansy? Does he know of Kodi? How much does he know about me?

I do not understand.

Above the door is a security camera that has a clear view of every section of the room, barring the closet's interior. There is little I can do covertly at the moment.

The door swings open before I can figure out what my other options are.

A tall, physically fit man with a complexion a couple shades darker than my own, and shaved black hair strides into the room. His eyes are a deep brown, his cheekbones are high and sharp just as my own are, and the first thing he does is look me over with a quick sweep of the eyes before he focuses on my restraints.

He explains, walking forward leisurely as he gestures to my restraints, "I did not want to restrain you, but you know as well as I what you would have done."

Black Manta then?

"What do you want from me Black Manta?" I question sharply, straightening up and attempting to look imposing.

He does not seem at all threatened by me.

He plucks the photograph of me when I was ten from the desk and looks at it, commenting, "You were a cute child." He tosses the photograph onto my lap. "I wager that you had big dreams then. Dreams of being a leader, a warrior uncontested in her skills, of being someone respected."

I look up at him, carefully keeping my expression neutral even though everything he says is correct.

"What happened to that ambition?" he questions sharply. "What happened to the girl who believed she could be one of the greats?"

I do not break eye contact although my narrowed eyes relax as I state calmly, "She grew up."

He frowns, "I know all about the purists, Kalladura'ham. I know what they have done to you, to people like you. The disrespect they have forced upon you because you were born different."

My once broken finger twitches.

"I aim to remove society of those simple-minded fools," he explains.

"You will not succeed."

"I suppose your so-called King will attempt to stop me and you'll go along with him because your only ambition is to serve his every whim, but, I ask you, what has he ever done to combat the purists and people like them? What has he ever done to protect your people from the terror others have inflicted upon them?"

"Do cease speaking of my King in such-"

"No Freedom of Expression in Atlantis then? Just an autocracy with no room for innovation? Efficient, I'll give him that, but hardly sustainable."

"You are speaking of things that you know nothing of."

"Because I am not Atlantean?" he challenges, leaning forward. "Is that why I cannot possibly know anything of the ruling structure of Atlantis? Please, don't be so naïve, Kalla. I know Atlantis better than you. Don't try and claim that you know your King keeps no secrets from you, I know that you're smarter than that."

"I have made no such claim, Manta. All leaders have secrets."

"I see," he nods thoughtfully. "Ever wonder what mine are?"

I look around the room then back at Manta, "Of course I do. You are an enemy of my people. Any information gained on you will surely give us a deeper understanding of yourself, your motivations, and your plans."

"Do you wonder how I know so much about you?"

"Is there a point in wondering?" I question caustically.

"I'll give you a hint," he offers. "If there is one thing I know better than most, it's infiltrating and gathering information on everything and everyone."

He taps the photograph lying on my lap, "From that information I know that you still have that kid inside you. You still want to be one of the greats. You still have ambition; I can see it in your eyes. You will serve your King as long as you need to and then, soon, you will break off and become great on your own terms, not restricted as you are as the protégé of Aquaman. And when you do, I'll be waiting, remembering every single one of our conflicts and agreements."

My eyes flick up to him, "What makes you think we will ever agree on anything?"

"I don't think. I know." He pauses, straightening up, "Always remember who has the most information in every situation, Kalla. That's the only way you will win. But, for now, our time is up."

My eyes widen sharply as he turns and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Almost immediately, gas starts filtering into the room and I cannot sit up any longer.

Shayeris, Atlantis : October 19, 2009 – 08:17 UTC-03

I was held hostage for nearly two weeks. Most of it I spent unconscious and when I did wake I was barely lucid. I vaguely recall a few more conversations with Black Manta, and the beeping of a machine along with electricity being funneled into my channels, but they're all barely-there memories. It is frustrating, because that fact means that it took four days to debrief me, as well as ensure that I wasn't carrying any methods of infiltration varying from tech to spells – apparently, Black Manta has used magic before to carry out his missions, but that was rarely done so was only known by a select few people, myself now included.

I completely skipped the hospital stay, being in perfect health save for a few minor side-effects – headaches, mostly – due to the gas and injection. Black Manta apparently kept me well-fed intravenously, made sure I was kept clean, and in general made sure that I was well taken care of. That was a little odd, to say the least. Usually, the people he captured were at least hungry. I was, while eager to actually chew something, not exactly hungry.

My report was odd as well. Beyond the vague reference to electricity being funneled into my channels, there was nothing to suggest that Black Manta had intentionally physically harmed me. The electricity could have harmed me but I was apparently, while forgetful, lucid enough during the procedure to assist the artificial funneling of the electrical machine projecting the electricity onto me, to the point where there was no physical evidence of me being 'electrocuted'. Everything Black Manta did to me was exceedingly well-planned. I had a feeling there were safeties built into the safeties to ensure that nothing he planned went wrong.

When I finished my explanation of my time in captivity in front of my parents – who wished to hear it because of Patera's involvement with Black Manta – and Annex – who now knew of Patera's former criminal activities – a look passed between the three. I stared at all of them then questioned the look but received nothing beyond a vague reference to the theory that perhaps Manta was targeting Patera for his betrayal. The theory was a weak one with Patera having betrayed Manta so many years ago, but it was as good an excuse as any to explain why Annex, Matim, and Patera were suddenly having silent conversations that I was not privy to.

The sheer oddness of the event, especially in contrast to how Black Manta treated me in the other few altercations we had, remains on my mind when I return home for an ordered four-day leave. Every other altercation we have had has involved him attacking me clearly with the intent to harm me, if not kill me outright. He has given me openings to hit him, openings to exploit his plans whenever Annex was not around for moments, openings in which to try to take him down. Every single time I took those openings, however, he would somehow manage to get out on-top and explain his frustration with something I failed miserably at in the process of attempting to take advantage of the openings. It is like he has been teaching me on the sidelines, attempting to turn me into a worthy opponent.

"Matim, do you think that Manta aims to kill Annex?" I question as I look up from my tablet, having not read the article on Kiri despite staring at it for a good fifteen minutes.

She looks up sharply, "I suppose so. He wishes to rule Atlantis, does he not?"

"That is what is thought."

Matim frowns, "Do you not agree?"

"I am uncertain. I do not understand him."

She smiles softly, "I suppose the only people who would understand him, his motivations and plans, would have to spend a long amount of time with him."

"You would have to become a friend of his, wouldn't you?"

"Something of the sort."

"Who would do that? The man is a murderer."

"Your Patera once helped him kill, you know."

"Yes, but-"

"The world is not black and white, Kalladura'ham," Matim continues.

"Batman would probably disagree with you on that."

"That is fine. I am no more frightened of him than I am of you. The world is grey. Criminals have families, dreams, loves, and fears just as heroes do. Heroes and criminals both have good days and bad days; they both make mistakes and dream of their perfect world."

"Then how do you explain people like Joker?"

Matim pauses in her beading. She looks at me, sadness and memories crossing her face, "There is a Dark Place, Kalladura'ham. It is the place people see and enter when they have hit rock bottom, when they have been thrown too many trials and cannot see an end. When you see that place, when you enter it, nothing surrounds you but despair and anger and…it's petrifying. Some people, maybe because they simply cannot handle it, maybe because their trails are exponentially worse than other peoples'…regardless of the reason, some people wind up stuck in that Dark Place. Some people embrace it, believing the Dark Place is their final stop, their one true place. Others manage to claw and tear their way out of it, but that takes a lot of hard work, a lot of dedication, motivation, and support, so not everyone can do that."

I swallow, sensing that she is speaking from experience. I know that Matim's life, in particular before I came along, was not the greatest. I know that she has had trials, though she has never told me of them. But to know that she saw the Dark Place…I do not know now if I wish to know what trials she faced.

"I think people like Joker…they fell headfirst into the Dark Place and they were a part of the people who couldn't get out, whether they tried or not. They were stuck. So Joker, unlike some people, decided to embrace it, to own it under the name of Joker." She pauses and returns to beading, "Perhaps he thought the Fates had decided to turn his entire existence into a joke and decided that instead of fighting it, he would embrace it, and he would show the Fates exactly how much of a joke he could be. He…embraced his sickness, I suppose."

"Desperation," I say softly.

"Perhaps. I do not know, I have never spoken to the man. Why did you question about Manta's intentions towards Annex anyway? Did Manta say something?"

"No, but…Manta has given me hints and told me how to become a better warrior, a better spy, a better soldier, a better hero. It is as if he is grooming me into becoming a worthy opponent."

Surprise flickers across her face. Just as quickly as it comes, it vanishes and she says, "You believe that if he wants you to become a worthy opponent of his that he will have to kill Annex, just in case Annex gets to become a worthy opponent."

"Yes."

"I hope he is not trying to turn you into his version of a worthy opponent then."

"Agreed."

Gulf of Mexico : April 30, 2010 – 03:13 CDT

I pull myself ashore, the oil-covered birds in my arms attempting to squawk. My very bones are tired, my mind is strained, and I want to cry.

I pass the birds off to Flash and pause for a moment, pulling off my helmet to simply breathe.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Nothing?" Flash questions, worry creasing his voice.

I shake my head mutely. No sign of the missing men. Everyone knows that they're probably dead by now. Unless they spontaneously developed the ability to breathe and survive in oil-infected water.

"I must continue to search," I say, staring at my oil-covered protective suit. I look up at Flash and my eyes flick to the birds, "Flash, the birds."

He nods sharply and zips off. I turn back to the water, cringing at the sight of the infected waters, my infected home. I glance back, barely noticing the cameras, reporters, coast guards and relief workers – most surface-dwellers, the Atlantean army is underwater in the few protective suits we have and waiting for more to arrive. The Atlantean soldiers waiting are aiding where they can, helping those Atlanteans who had been in the gulf during the disaster, the animals, the vegetation, etcetera, while attempting to create shields to keep the oil from spreading. I do not know the death toll yet. Frankly, I do not wish to know. Not now.

People – Atlanteans, my people – had lived where the oil now infects the waters. Some could have dared one another to get close to the rig of the surface-dwellers and been caught in the explosion.

I exhale and turn back to the water, securing my helmet once again and pulling out my waterbearers. Using my hydrokinesis I raise the water into a tunnel, forcing the topmost layer of oil to go above my head so that I touch as little of the oil as possible when diving back under.

I am positive I will have nightmares about oil.

I am only permitted to be right in the middle of the oil spill for two hours at a time. The suit, and I, has limits. It takes me an hour to get to the depths I eventually reach, where there are at least two inches of bloody oil smeared across the seafloor. It takes another fifteen minutes before I find the source of the blood floating in the water, stuck to the oil. A dead dolphin, its fins ripped to shreds, probably from the explosion. Its blowhole assaulted. Its carcass lain across the remains of a man.

For a moment, I cannot breathe. It takes me another moment before I remember that I must inform the League of my discovery.

"Aqua-" I clear my throat. "Aqualass to Aquaman. I…I found someone."

::: I am getting a lock on your coordinates Aqualass. I am heading there. ::: Annex Orin responds immediately.

::: Is it one of the missing? ::: questions Batman.

"There is little of the man left. His face is…burned and he is covered in both his blood and the dolphin's. I…it is difficult to tell."

I could throw up. But I am wearing a helmet and I know that I only have about thirty minutes before I should be out of the oil-infected water. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to get down in the first place. Clearly, I am an idiot.

I move, unwilling to waste more time, and grab the dolphin's carcass in one bubble of water and the man's remains in another, controlled by my waterbearers. Quickly, I begin my ascent, blinking rapidly.

::: Head to the surface, Kalladura'ham. ::: Annex Orin orders.

"I am at the moment, Annex," I respond, carefully controlling my breathing, attempting to keep myself from either vomiting or bursting into tears.

It is not just a part of my home that is destroyed. My people were effectively attacked, people and animals are already dead, getting sick and slowly dying and I can barely see two feet in front of myself There's so much…so much…so much and I just want it to end. Why would someone do something like this? Why would someone let this happen? Why would someone even dare to risk the lives of thousands of people and animals and…it needs to end.

Now I am crying. Great. I blame that on having four hours of sleep in the past three days.

I cannot sleep.

"Annex, please, take the dolphin, help him," I can hear myself plead when I spot Annex in his own protective suit, just as awkward as my own is. He nods silently and takes the dolphin from me, aware that I cannot take him up through the top layers of oil without hurting or humiliating him further. Annex is aware that he cannot protect the human's body from the oil at all, but I at least have a chance with my sorcery. Besides, the dolphin's place is with his brothers and sisters beneath the surface, not above, like the human's place. I need to get to the surface anyway. Annex can stand to remain underwater for a bit longer.

The water bubble breaks the surface first. I emerge immediately after the bubble, my artificial channels glowing, keeping the protective bubble around the man. I cannot keep that up and get him out of the water though. I'm too tired, too unfocused, and my vision is getting blurry. Instead, I pull the man's burned, bloodied corpse into my arms, blinking rapidly, and stand, making my way onto the shore.

There are relief workers there, and paramedics. They take the human's body from my arms in the instant I am out of the water.

"Kid, you need a break," Flash says, stopping in front of me, obviously concerned, even through his mask.

"I am fine," I insist stubbornly, aware that I am shaking and crying. I am incredibly grateful for the fact that my helmet covers my face but I am still aware of everything else. The oil covering my suit, slick and hideous, the blood stuck to the oil, blood of the man and the dolphin.

It is too cold. Why is it cold?

"You're taking a break," Flash insists, ignoring the fact that I take orders from Annex Orin, not him, except for in special circumstances. "Take off the suit. How much sleep have you gotten anyway?"

With shaking hands I remove the helmet. Still shaking, I look up at Flash, dimly aware of tears streaming down my face. I blink. The sudden blast of cleaner air turns my stomach. I swallow as I begin unhooking the suit and stepping out of it, answering, "A-About four hours."

Flash says nothing. I do not wonder why.

"In th-three days," I explain further, keeping my head down, trying not to show my face to the hero, the tears, again. "I could not f-find sleep."

My home, my people, have been hurt irreparably. My home is infected. Infected with a disease that will never stop spreading, never stop assaulting everyone and everything in its path.

"Four hours in three days?" Flash repeats incredulously. His voice softens and he crouches slightly to get at my eye-level, "You can't do this to yourself, kid."

I do not bother to argue. I know that he is right, and I am trembling too much to bother with trying to argue.

"Come on," Flash's hand grasps my shoulder.

He leads me to the League's temporary relief base camp and makes me lie down. I sleep for thirty minutes before the burning oil drowns me and I shoot up, shrieking, my arms flailing.

"Jesus!"

I look over the side of my bed and spot Roy sprawled on the floor next to his boots, clutching his chest. "Fuck, K! Give a guy a heart attack why don't you?"

I half-smile, "Apologies, my friend." I frown as he rights himself, "What are you doing here?"

"Heard you got four hours of sleep in three days and you found one of the missing men. Came here to make sure you didn't try and go out there again to help because you'll wind up killing yourself if you do."

"Annex got you here."

"That too. What the hell was that anyway?"

"Nightmare," I shake my head. "It is nothing."

"Bullshit. You never shriek."

"It is nothing, I assure-" I stop at the look on his face. "I was drowning in burning oil and could not get the civilians out."

He grimaces, "You have the most messed up dreams."

"I appreciate that, Roy."

"Go back to sleep," Roy says, kicking his feet onto the bed. "I'm making sure you stay here and don't try and play the martyr."

I fight the urge to flip him off. Instead, I flop back down on the bed. I roll over, tug the sheet over my head, and attempt to find sleep.

I blame my exhaustion for finally giving me a dreamless 12-hour sleep even while Roy's feet pressed against my back.

A/N: You know when you know exactly what you want to write but words completely fail to work? Yeah. That was this entire chapter. And then David showed up nearly out of nowhere and decided that he was going to talk. It was interesting to write this, to say the least.

Used this article for the arithmancy b/c I was lazy and am not overly fond of numbers: www. beyondhogwarts harry-potter/ articles/ an-introduction-to-arithmancy .html

Shout-out to my reviewers thus far: ViciousViper15, singergirl22, RainGoddess2040, Drownedinlight, Hitokage Higure, and the reviewer to hit nearly every chapter with some awesome words, Hybrid301. Mad love for ya'll.

R&R