A/N: aaaand we're on the home stretch! I've finished the next chapter; I'll post it next Saturday. And then we've only go the epilogue, and then we're done with this universe!

let's get this show on the road! Thank you everyone who's been following and commenting on this story so far; you guys are the absolute best.


Nyssa bows before her father's throne, waiting for further instructions.

"She comes," her father's voice is perfectly calm.

"You said she wouldn't," Nyssa's grip is tight on her sword; her white knuckles betray her emotions. She hopes her father doesn't see them.

"It seems that our Amoret is determined," there's a hint of amusement in his voice, but also… frustration? Whatever his plan is, Stephanie is threatening to derail it. "It seems as though you will get to see her skill up close after all."

Nyssa grinds her teeth together, and moves to pick up the Amoret mask that she discarded after leading the child to the small room her father had set aside for her. It's too close to a cell for comfort, and Nyssa tries not to think of what will become of the young Carrie Kelley, whose eyes are so like her mother's.

It doesn't matter, she reminds herself. She's doing this for her children. She will see them again. She will have no regrets when she gets to hold them in her arms once again.

"Don't," her father says, and she sees him smiling now, and it's cruel and wide. "Let her see your face."

Nyssa buries her emotions, keeping her appearance serene.

She turns to face the door, and tries to pretend she is not betraying Stephanie in every way by doing this.


The room is dark, lit only by an eerie green glow that sends shivers up her spine. Steph tightens her grip on her sword, and keeps going.

The steps that lead to the room are old and made of stone that's been worn smooth by thousands of footsteps over the years. Steph isn't sure what exactly she's going to find at the end of these stairs, but she's sure it isn't going to be good.

She can't hear anything; not that it means much. She probably has set off a hundred alarms on her way down. They know she's coming.

Good. She readjusts her grip. Maybe then Carrie knows someone is coming for her. She hopes she does.

She remembers all too well being hopeless and alone; captured by strange people for strange reasons. No one had come for her. She will not let the same thing happen to Carrie.

She steps into the main room.

The first thing that catches her eye is, of course, the Lazarus Pit. Her eyes widen slightly, realizing immediately what it is. It can't be anything else; it matches the descriptions of every story she's ever heard. It's something straight of a nightmare, glowing and green and bubbling ever so gently, emitting the same pale green light that she had seen all the way from the top of the stairs.

She wrenches her eyes away from the Pit, and narrows them as she spotted Ra's al Ghul.

He looks older than Steph has ever seen him; his face is covered in wrinkles and his hairline is further back than she is used to. She wonders how long it has been since he's used his Pit—maybe that was why he's here, instead of any of the other strongholds and fortresses he has all over the world.

There's a figure in the shadows next to the raised dais on which Ra's al Ghul sits. In the dim light that the Pit provides, Steph can see a hint of purple.

Amoret.

Steph grits her teeth and steps forward, giving the Lazarus Pit a wide berth as she approaches. "Where is she?" She demands.

"None of your concern, child," Ra's al Ghul says. "You should not have come."

Steph rolls her eyes, and takes another step forward, wondering how long it would be before Amoret would move to defend her master. It won't be long, surely—no servant of Ra's al Ghul will allow her to get too close.

Steph keeps moving. She's past the Pit now.

The movement is so fast that, if it wasn't headed right towards her, Steph might have missed it. The figure races forward, bringing her sword down to meet Steph's own in a clash of steel. Steph moves backwards automatically, releasing the sword from the parry, and attacks. The other figure also uses two weapons, and blocks with her second one. They stand there, blades and eyes locked, and Steph feels her breath leave her.

She knows that face. She knows it very well. She remembers that face better than she remembers her own mother's.

"Afya?" She can't help it. The words escape, and it's as if she's fourteen years old again.

There is a flicker in the dark eyes, but only slight.

It's her; without a doubt. She looks almost exactly as Steph remembers her; the only difference being the outfit she wears and the long streak of white hair that frames her face perfectly, leaving Steph with no illusions about how Afya can be standing here in front of her.

Ra's has resurrected her for some reason.

The moment breaks, and Afya moves again, slamming her swords down against Steph's, trying to break through her guard. Steph parries automatically, but she is on the defensive, giving ground to her old mentor.

Steph's mind runs in a hundred directions at once. She doesn't understand. Why is Afya working for Ra's? Her loyalty has always been to Talia.

Steph feels herself be pressed back further. Afya is not going to show mercy.

Afya had kidnapped Steph's daughter. Nothing else can matter now.

Steph's sword meets Afya's with a clash of steel on steel. She grits her teeth, and pulls back, going low to avoid the swipe of Afya's blade.

She wonders if Afya recognizes the sword Steph's holding.

She wonders if Afya cares.

Afya has always been great. It's been years since Steph has sparred with her, but it seems that the years haven't taken the edge away from Afya's abilities. Even dying, it seems, couldn't slow her down.

Steph thrusts forward again, which Afya parries easily. Her face is completely blank. Even her eyes show no sign of life now.

Clang. The swords meet again, and Steph struggles to breathe. Everything is twistedly wrong. She had thought that once she found the new Amoret, she would understand what was happening. She had thought she would find answers in this hidden place.

But nothing makes sense anymore.


At least Cassandra lets him fly co-pilot, unlike Grayson, Damian consoles himself, glancing over at the girl who is, legally at least, his sister.

He isn't sure if she considers him her brother, and he realizes that bothers him. He knows Grayson does, even if Drake and Todd do not. But Cain… he is less sure about her.

"Tell me about Afya," Cain says, not looking at him. She isn't relying on the auto-pilot, instead actually flying the plane herself. Maybe she is worried Gordon would override the controls? Damian frowns, curious.

"She looked after me sometimes. Before Steph. She was Mother's friend." He pauses, trying to remember anything important about her. "She taught Steph—she uses two weapons, like her. She, she would give me these candies? I think they were from Russia. She used to speak to me in Russian."

Cain frowns. "Did she like Steph?"

"Yes," Damian says automatically. Afya hadn't been his primary bodyguard; he hadn't really had one before Steph. Before, he had many of them, most of whom also protected his mother. Afya had been his mother's right hand, he remembered that; always moving around, taking care of her business. Steph had accompanied her fairly often, although he hadn't really known that at the time. Afya had never mentioned her to him, but then again, Afya didn't like talking about her duties with him. She'd tell him when he demanded it of her—he often did, clambering into her lap and tugging at her shirt until she would tell him stories, the best of which, in his four year old mind, were about Afya and his mother.

Afya was a good storyteller—possibly better than his Mother, although Damian would never have admitted that. She had looked after him and cared for him. He had been fond of her.

"Why do you work for Mama?" He had asked her once, when he was five.

She laughed, and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "Because your mother saved me from myself. I will follow her until the end."

He squirms in his seat, remembering. "She worked for my mother," he says, quietly. "I think…" He pauses, trying to see if he can find a way to make the words not true. "I think she might be working for her."

Cass's head snaps towards him. "Why?"

"She was loyal to Mother, not my grandfather or anyone else," Damian says.

Cass taps the controls of the plane absently. "What was important to her?"

"Mother," Damian says, frowning. "And, um…"

He remembers something.

"Ah, Damian!" She scooped him up in her arms, laughing. "Ah, kotyonok, before you know it you will be taller than my—" She stops, and Damian sees sadness on her face.

"Is something wrong, Auntie?" He rarely calls her by that name anymore, but it worked wonders at getting what he wanted out of her.

"It is nothing Damian," she said soothingly, but she was lying. Damian squirmed.

"Tell me!" He demanded, stomping his foot. Or at least he tried to, since she was still holding him.

She looked at him sadly. "Fine," she said, setting him down and holding his chin very firmly in her hands. "But you must promise never to tell anyone, you understand?"

"I promise!" Damian said.

"I had a son once," Afya said, her voice very quiet. "He looked just like you. And then I lost him."

Damian frowned. "Do you miss him?"

"Every day," she said, and her eyes looked very, very old.

"Why don't you ask Mama? She'll let you bring him back in grandpa's pit!"

Afya flinched. "There are rules about the Lazarus Pit, Damian. Ra's al Ghul… he would not just place anyone in one." She looked like she was about to cry. Damian frowned, and patted her face.

"You have me," he said, and sure enough, she smiled at him. But her eyes were still sad.

"Yes," she said, laughing slightly, scooping him up in her arms. "I do have you, my little kotyonok."

"She had a son," Damian says, slowly, as he tries to put the pieces together in his head. "But he died. I think—I think she asked Grandfather if she could bring him back, but he said no."

Cass's eyes close for a second. "So he tells her he'll do it, if she does what he says?"

"But why Afya?" Damian demands. "Why her? Grandfather has an army who will do whatever he says!"

"Dead women can hide easier?" Cass suggests, but she's frowning.

"But then he has plenty of dead assassins of his own!"

"He wants to hurt Steph?"

"But why? Why does he care about Steph? None of this makes sense!"

"Talia," Cass says. "He wants to hurt Talia."

Damian pauses. "But what does Steph have to do with this?"

Cass frowns. "We're missing something."

"Apparently," Damian crosses his arms and huffs.

Cass reaches over, and squeezes his shoulder. "We'll get there in time," she says, reassuringly.


Stephanie has improved greatly, but it won't be enough. Nyssa strides forward and slashes again. Stephanie keeps trying to go on the offensive, but Nyssa has her on the run anyways.

She moves forward slowly, her eyes raking over the girl.

She's taller than Nyssa expected—puberty and growth spurts have given her inches that give her a more threatening presence than she had possessed as a child. Her face is clear of scars, which is a relief, but Nyssa knows better than to think that the girl has survived all these years without new ones.

She can't think about that now, can't afford to dwell on the years of Stephanie's life she missed while lying in a coffin. She has the girl on the run—now it's time to finish this.

She wonders, idly, when Stephanie picked up the misericorde. The weight was different than the girl would have been used to, back when she had been Nyssa's student, yet Stephanie holds it with practiced ease.

Nyssa takes a deep breath, and buries her emotions deeper. She cannot afford weakness.

This is for her children.

Nyssa's movements are fluid and rapid, their weapons meeting with the familiar clash of steel. Stephanie is sweating, and her focus is on the verge of breaking. Seeing Nyssa alive is fraying her concentration.

Nyssa felt a stab of pity, even as their blades locked again.

That will cost Stephanie the fight.

The angles of their swords are just so, the way that Nyssa has—had—always taught her to avoid, precisely because of what comes next. Nyssa flicks her wrist with an expert twist, and Stephanie's misericorde flies across the room, clattering to the ground. Stephanie's eyes go wide, and Nyssa kicks her against the wall, dazing her.

Nyssa grabs her and throws, sending Stephanie sprawling towards the throne of her father. Stephanie barely is coordinated enough to block the fall, and by the time she's scrambling to her feet, Nyssa is there again. She kicks her down, and rests her sword against Stephanie's neck. Stephanie stills instantly. The neck of her outfit is armored, but they both know that won't make a difference if Nyssa wants to slit her throat.

"Yield," she says quietly to the girl, whose eyes shine too brightly, even in the dim light of the Lazarus Pit.

"It's all right," she soothed, sitting across from Stephanie on the train. "It's alright to cry now, I've told you that."

It was only Stephanie's fourth mission. At least the girl hadn't thrown up this time, but she still was pale and sweating and miserable.

Her words worked like magic. Stephanie tucked her legs up against her chest and hugged them, tears flowing fast and freely, but still not making a single sound.

"You did well, Amoret," she placed a hand over Stephanie's. "One day, you will be great."

"I don't want to be great," Stephanie said, her voice cracking. "I… I just want…" she broke off, as if she didn't know the answer.

"It gets easier," Nyssa reminded her, a simple mantra, a familiar one, and a true one. Stephanie gave a quick, jerky nod, and then buried her face in her arms, still crying.

Nyssa sighed softly, and moved to sit next to her.

"It will be alright," Nyssa said softly, wrapping her arms around the girl. "I promise."

"Good," her father says, his smile cruel. "Now kill her, and end this. There is still much to be done."

Nyssa freezes.

"What?"

Ra's seems almost exasperated. "She's useless. A pawn. Dispose of her, and then we will move forward."

"I did my part," Nyssa keeps her voice low and calm, despite the fact that the hand not holding her sword is shaking. "I brought you the child."

Her father's lip curls. "That is the beginning of our deal, child, not the end."

Nyssa wants to scream at him, wants to throw her sword at him and end this. Kill him and scatter his ashes, then dig up her children's graves and bring them back. Cut him away and all of his manipulations and cruelty, but one thing and one thing alone stays her hand; keeps her sword at Stephanie Brown's throat.

He's the one who buried her children. While she had recuperated, her scars fading and the days blurring, he had gone and found the bodies of her children, and placed them in graves. Them and her husband, kept away from her. Punishment, he told her, for her failure. She had left him then, and wandered for years, staying alive more out of spite for him than anything else.

He's buried her children, and if she kills him she will never find them. She's spent years searching, and found nothing.

She closes her eyes, and takes a breath.

For her children.

Stephanie looks at her, and her eyes are resigned. She knows exactly what is about to happen, and Nyssa almost wishes that there was hate in those familiar eyes.

But she only sees pain.

She looks at her father again, and wishes she hadn't.

Her father is smiling.


Carrie Kelley is four years old and scared. She doesn't know where she is, her arm hurts where the scary lady had grabbed her, she really needs to go to the bathroom, and the room she is locked in is dark.

Above her, she hears fighting. People are shouting and there's a lot of noise that sounds like fighting on TV and also like the noises outside of her apartment at night.

Carrie fumbles in the dark, trying to see if there's anything that can help her, but the room is empty.

There's not even a window. How can Colin come get her if there isn't a window?

She doesn't know what's happening; one minute she was following her parents to meet their friend at the corner, when the scary lady came. She made Mommy and Daddy bleed and fall to the ground, and then she picked up Carrie and ran. She didn't stop, even when Carrie screamed or hit her.

The Scary Lady hadn't talked to her at all.

Carrie kicks the door and yells. She wants to be let out. She wants to go home. She wants Colin and Nell and Harper and Cullen. She wants to look at her books and sit on the fire escape and watch Harper make things.

She doesn't like this at all.

She's scared, and she can't even sneak into her parents' bedroom and curl up between them and pretend everything is okay. Colin doesn't know where she is; the scary lady has taken her far away. Carrie remembers a plane, and an ocean, and Colin can't cross oceans or fly.

She curls into the corner of the room and cries until she doesn't have any tears left.


The worst part, Steph thinks, fingernails digging into the palm of her hand, is that Carrie is going to be like her. She could probably have handled anything else, but that failure stings worse than the knowledge that she's going to die. Even worse than the realization she's going to break her promise to Damian, to Tim.

She's going to die here.

Afya moves the sword slightly, moving the point so that the cut will be quick and relatively painless. Steph is thankful for that, at least.

Afya turns to look at Ra's, and Steph almost shouts at her to just finish it. She's not going to change her mind; Steph knows better than to think that.

"Stop!"

It has been a very long time since Steph was so happy to see Talia al Ghul.

"Talia," Ra's says, his voice a growl. "What are you doing here?"

"Apparently," Talia says, her voice a whip cracking, "Stopping you from killing one of my agents, using another one of my agents." She strides into the room, and Steph is relieved to see that she's flanked by four warriors, none of whom Steph recognizes, but it doesn't matter, they stand a chance.

Afya moves in a single fluid motion, wrenching Steph up to her feet and pinning her arms to her sides, pressing her knife against Steph's throat, her sword clattering to the ground.

"Do not come closer, my lady," Afya says, but Steph doesn't think she's imagining the tremor in her voice. Steph swallows slightly as she feels the knife prick her skin. She's bleeding, but it's only slightly. Afya wants her alive as long as possible.

Talia stops, her expression heartbroken. "Afya—"

"Leave," Afya says.

"He will not give you what he's promised!" Talia says. "He's lying, Afya!"

"Now, Talia, you are getting over excited," Ra's says behind them, and there's a rustle, indicating he's now standing. One of the warriors has a bow out and an arrow knocked, aiming it right at the Demon's Head. Steph spares a moment in between fearing for her life and complete and utter confusion to be amazed at the loyalty of Talia's choice of guards. It takes a lot of loyalty to threaten Ra's al Ghul.

"Afya—" Talia reaches out a hand, as if expecting Afya to take it. "Please. You don't know what he has planned. What he intends to do." She pauses, then adds. "Sister, I beg you; listen to me."

Afya's breath hitches, Steph can feel it.

"You name a common servant your sister?" Ra's asks, but there's something off in his voice.

"I name Nyssa Raatko of the house of Ghul my sister," Talia snaps, her hand still outstretched. "Did you truly think you could hide the truth from me forever, Father?"

Afya—Nyssa, whoever she is—hasn't moved. "He's promised me my children back," she says, her voice faint.

"He can't deliver. Their bodies are burned, Sister! And we both know that what is ashes remains ashes!" There's something that Talia isn't saying, but whatever it is, it's enough. Afya's grip loosens slightly, and Steph tenses, preparing to make a break for it if she has to.

"Enough!" Ra's al Ghul's voice cuts through the air like a blade. "You are both more trouble than you're worth!"

A bell rings.

A door opens, and guards pour in.

"Kill them all," Ra's orders. "And quickly."

Afya releases Steph and spins, as if intending to kill Ra's right on the spot.

Three arrows fly through the air, one of them striking Afya in the shoulder. She stumbles, and it's enough. Ra's moves swiftly despite his old age, and he's in the midst of his warriors in a moment.

Talia presses a sword into Steph's hands. "I am glad I made it in time," she says quietly, even as all of them move into position, back to back. "Damian is still in Gotham?"

"Yes," Steph says.

"Good. Then there is still hope." Talia raises her scimitar in front of her, her expression grave.

"My daughter?" Steph can't help but ask Afya, who moves to stand on Talia's other side.

"Safe, in the rooms below." Afya's mouth is tight. She sees what they all do.

They're outnumbered ten to one, and heavily at a disadvantage.

But it's better odds than Steph was facing earlier.

She has Afya at her side now, and Talia is here.

She shifts her stance, and Ra's al Ghul's army charges.