Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.

And It Goes Like This

February 22, 2011

Palm City, Franklin

Jamie stared at the computer screen. She swore she could practically hear her father's voice saying: "You are in so much trouble, young lady."

"Orwell?" Sam tried to get her attention. "What is it you wanted to tell me?" She tore her eyes away from the screen and took a deep breath before beginning.

"Vince, you remember the night we met, when you asked me who I was and I told you that I was no one special?" she began. Of course, Sam didn't have any recollection of this, but he nodded anyway. "I should've told you… You deserve to know the truth. My name is Jamie Fleming."

"Fleming?" Sam repeated at the same time that Al's eyes popped out of his head. "Meaning that you're…"

"Meaning that Peter Fleming is my father," she whispered.

"Huh. Didn't see that coming," Al observed.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Sam asked, his tone neutral.

"Because you hate him, I mean, rightly so after everything he's done. I hate him, too, but I didn't want you to look at me and see his daughter. Vince, you know me. I'm not like him!"

"Jamie, it's okay. I didn't say that you were," Sam assured her. "I'd have to be a complete idiot to not see that you're your own person." Finally, he'd elicited a smile from her; it wasn't a large one, but it was there nonetheless. "Now, about that message from your father…"

She showed him the e-mail.

"He must've seen the footage of us on the ARK security cameras before I erased it," she assumed. "So now he knows who I am. What am I going to do, Vince? I don't want to see him. I haven't spoken to him in years. I can't…" she trailed off.

"I get it," Sam told her. "You couldn't deal with him, daughter to father anymore. So you created this alias, this other identity you could use to get his attention, to make him listen to what you had to say and see you as an adult, an equal. You've used the blog to call him out on his shortcomings, remind him that he's strayed from the straight and narrow path, but to what end, ultimately?"

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"Well, how do you see this playing out?" Sam glanced briefly in Al's direction before continuing. "Suppose that you hit pay dirt and get evidence on video that ARK is up to no good. You'd upload that to your blog to expose your father to the public, right?"

"Of course I would! Why would I sit on that kind of evidence? I'm the only news source in this city that my father doesn't control."

"Okay, so hypothetically, you upload this incredibly damning video. What do you suppose would happen next?"

"Well-"

"It wouldn't topple your father's empire," Sam interrupted her. "Don't you see? Anything short of your father specifically caught in the act gives him enough leeway to use a scapegoat and deny any involvement in anything illicit. And what better scapegoat is there than his chief of police?"

"Marty," Orwell murmured. "Shit. You're right; that sounds like exactly the sort of thing he'd do. Mind you, it's not like Marty's completely innocent. He stood by and watched as you were framed. He's been complacent-"

"He's helped us," Sam reminded her. "He helped me save you last night and took a risk in doing so." Jamie nodded.

"Guess I haven't given him enough credit," she conceded, thinking of the blog entry where she'd accused Voyt of being her father's puppet. "He came through for us when we needed him." She met the hero's eyes. "And you don't think it was a fluke," she stated.

"I think that if we play our cards right, Marty could be a real asset to us. He's a good person deep down and he's in a position to help us from within ARK—but he won't be if Peter turns against him."

"And dad would turn on him in a heartbeat if we pushed him into a corner." The blogger ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Okay. Let's figure out our next move."

SBSBSBSBSBSBSBSBSB

Their next move turned out to be replying to Fleming's message. Jamie agreed to meet him, but true to her habit as Orwell, she was cryptic. She didn't want him to know when to expect her or that she wouldn't be coming alone. Maybe it was a bit petty of her, but she was leaving him the home court advantage. Besides, she wasn't ready to face him alone. She wanted to have her best friend's moral support when she went and if her father knew he was coming, he'd have Vince shot within ten seconds of their arrival.

And she'd thought her father had had issues with her friends while she was growing up…

SBSBSBSB

We've got company, Chess informed Peter. The billionaire was in his penthouse, about to retire for the evening. Someone had gotten past his security, again. And this time he didn't have a poisoner lurking nearby. Well, it wasn't as if Chess had a problem getting his hands dirty…

If anyone has a problem with it, it's you. You should let me out more.

"Who's there?" Peter called out. A figure stepped out of the shadows. His heart lurched when he recognized her features. "Jamie?"

"Dad," she acknowledged, tilting her head towards him. Apparently he felt that was an inadequate greeting after all this time because he hurried forwards and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"My ballerina, it's you! It's been far too long."

"Dad, I need to breathe." He loosened his hold on her, but didn't let go.

"I've missed you."

"I thought you'd be too busy ruling the city to do that."

"Must you spoil this reunion?"

"I don't know. Dad, did you have to kill Chandler last night?"

"He kidnapped and poisoned you and you have to ask me that?" She pulled away from him and sighed.

"And the fact that his death enabled you to buy the docks never entered your mind?" She raised an eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact—"

Peter, there's someone else here. Peter looked back into the shadows and tensed.

"Alright, show yourself," he ordered. The Cape flipped on the light switch, illuminating the room.

"Hello, Peter," Sam called.

"You!" Fleming reached into a drawer, pulled out a semiautomatic, and pointed it at his perceived enemy.

"DAD! Put the gun down, NOW!" Jamie commanded.

"But, princess…"

"Now!" she repeated. Peter lowered the gun slowly.

"What is he doing here?" he demanded, his eyes on the masked man.

"I asked him to come. Dad, he's my friend."

Don't tell me you didn't know Orwell was working with the Cape, Chess remarked. Peter continued to glare at the vigilante.

"I know you're not going to be friends with him," Jamie continued, "and I know you've already tried to have him killed, at least twice. That has to stop now."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's my friend," she repeated. "And he's saved my life and yours. If there's going to be the slightest chance of us reconciling sometime this century, you have to stop trying to have him assassinated."

"Do you realize what you're asking?"

"Deal with it," Jamie replied, "or I will never speak to you again." Fleming looked at his daughter for a long moment and then nodded.

"Very well; now, I have a little surprise for you."

"That can't be good," Al said to Sam.

"Sounds a bit ominous," Sam agreed.

"I'll thank you to stay out of this, Cape," Peter replied. He replaced the gun in one drawer and rummaged through another until he found the papers he was looking for. He presented the document to Jamie.

"What is this?" she asked, as she took it from him.

"It's the deed to the property that the city received from Chandler's estate. Normally, of course, the disposition of the property would have taken a bit longer, but I may have convinced a few officials that it isn't wise to keep me waiting and, well… I had the title put in your name. The docks are yours."

"But you've wanted to get control of them for… Wait, if you think you're going to take over them while they're in my name, you'd better think again. I saw your press conference earlier. You had the nerve to argue that Chandler's murder showed that Patrick Portman was an incompetent Secretary of Prisons."

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," Peter shrugged. "But I'm not being disingenuous here. I figured you would object to your old man acquiring the property, so I'm giving it to you."

"And I'm supposed to believe there are no strings attached?" Peter sighed.

"I just don't want you to run from me again. I want to be a part of my daughter's life. I didn't think that was too much to ask. I love you, Jamie."

"Oh, Dad!" This time, Jamie initiated the embrace. Sam took that as his cue to leave and quietly exited the penthouse.

Did the Cape strike you as a little too quiet tonight, Peter? Chess asked.

SBSBSBSBSBSBSB

On Sam's way out, he ran into Marty in one of the building's corridors. Marty considered making a show of reaching for his weapon, but didn't bother.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Sam asked. "She thought her father saw the security tapes before she got to them, but I don't think he did. You recognized her and told Fleming her secret."

"You suppose it's too much to hope that he'll want to be a better person for his daughter?" Marty asked. Sam glanced back the way he'd come.

"Maybe it's not." He lowered his voice. "You know we made a pretty good team last night."

"What are you say—" Before Marty could finish the question, the hero had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

SBSBSBSBSBSBSBSB

"You did it, Sam." The leaper was standing on the roof of the Faraday's apartment building. "Marty isn't killed," Al informed him, as he consulted the hand-link. "And he isn't arrested or fired. He's still the Chief of Police."

"Probably still helping the Cape," Sam interjected, smiling.

"Ziggy thinks so," Al confirmed. "Orwell doesn't post the video to the blog. And it looks like Fleming never hired Scales as a hit man, so the smuggler's on the streets. Get ready to leap, Sam."

"Hang on. Something tells me there's still a bit of unfinished business here."

Before long, a sleepy looking ten-year-old climbed up the fire escape.

"You came back," Trip observed.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, kiddo?" Sam asked.

"It certainly is," a voice called. Dana Faraday had followed her son onto the roof. "Go back to bed, Trip."

"But Mom!"

Dana sighed.

"You can say goodnight to the Cape and then go to bed!" Trip paused, came to a decision, and then hugged his hero goodnight before he could change his mind.

His footsteps receded and the two adults were left alone on the roof (with one hologram).

"I saw what happened to Chandler," Dana began.

"I didn't do that," Sam assured her.

"I know," Dana replied. "Is your friend…?"

"She's safe. She's going to be okay."

"Good; that's good. Look: I asked Trip to eavesdrop on you last night, while you were in the bathroom. And I asked him earlier about what he heard." Sam froze. Al swore.

"What did he say?" Sam asked after he recovered his voice.

"All he would tell me was that you said his father is still alive. He told me you claimed to be a friend of Vince's." She twisted her hands. "It shouldn't be possible. I saw Vince die; millions of us did. The explosion was on live television."

"Our eyes can deceive us sometimes," Sam replied.

"Just tell me the truth: Is Vince still alive?" Sam nodded.

"Yes. He's alive and he still loves you and Trip and he is doing everything he can to get back to you." Dana gasped and grabbed onto the vigilante, needing a shoulder to lean on. She didn't see blue light engulfing the hero as he leapt.

SBSBSBSBSBSBSBSB

April 15, 2007

Chicago, Illinois

Sam had leaped again. This time it was during the day. He was outside, on a city street. The time traveler heard someone talking to him and looked up.

"Could you slap me?" The dark-haired man was taller than Sam and wearing a leather jacket.

"What?" Sam asked, confused. He caught sight of his reflection in the sunglasses the speaker was wearing and bit his tongue to keep from cursing. He had leaped into a woman, again.

"Could you slap me? You see, I need a peak emotional surge, 'cause I got to jolt up the ant vomit a little, you see, so could you slap me?"

Sam shook his head. Was his host's friend nuts?

"I'm not slapping you."

"Alright," Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden replied. Murphy left him no choice. The wizard/private investigator had to do something to boost the power of the tracking spell, after all. Without any warning, he wrapped his arms around Connie, leaned down and kissed her.

Sam's body went lax and his eyes drifted closed. He was being kissed! As the man's tongue began exploring his mouth, one thought formed in his brain.

Oh, boy.

THE END

Author's Note: Chapter title from Maroon 5's "Moves Like Jagger." Now, come on. How can you not review after that ending? As you may have recognized, Sam leaped straight into "The Dresden Files" TV show. (Is it slash if Sam was Murphy?)

This fic is over. I'd like to say that I'm still working on "Black Bird; Green Arrow," but I can't. That crossover will be on hiatus, pending further reviews.

Thank you to those who reviewed!