A/N: Forgive me for the long absence. Novels, man. NOVELS. Please accept this chapter as my apology.


One thing Terry had always admired about the Gotham Forensics Department was the fact that they were thorough. Gordon liked him to stay out of official police business, but every so often she would pull him in for cases that went past her reach. Sometimes it was corrupt politicians with enough money to stay out of prison, and other times it was simply that she needed access to the latest technology that Bruce had in spades. No matter what the situation, the meticulous lab reports and analysis always made things easier when he had to visit a crime scene.

The Commish had been kind enough to send over the initial report for Ackerman's case. No sign of forced entry and no sign of struggle. He was found face down on the bed with a puncture mark in his neck. They hadn't identified the type of poison, if it was indeed a snake bite, and there were no traces of scales or anything indicating that someone had slipped the reptile between his sheets. No track marks made by any shoes or unusual hair samples recovered. Whomever killed him was no jack-booted thug like Toben. He'd been careful. Meticulous. Patient.

In Terry's experience, those were the worst kinds of criminals.

It took a moment or two to get used to the robot's range of motion, but Terry caught on relatively quickly. As per usual, Gordon had men stationed on a rooftop a couple buildings over to survey the apartment in case the killer returned to the scene. Ackerman rented a two-thousand square foot apartment on one of the upper floors on the ritzy side of town. There was a doorman who signed guests in and the police were combing through the list in search of unusual activity. The hallways had security cameras, but like Toben's murder at the precinct, the feed had been cut ahead of time.

Terry started with the cameras in the hallway first. There was no sign that the wires had been cut. It simply went to fuzz for Ackerman's time-of-death window and then came right back online. He suspected it was either a hack of epic proportions or some kind of EMP. The latter sounded more likely since the Gotham Tech department hadn't found any signal indicating a hack.

He calculated the range at which an EMP could be triggered and walked around the corner to the elevator. Ackerman owned the entire floor so there were no nosy neighbors to worry about as the robot walked the corridor in camouflage mode. He took a moment to disable the camera's feeds with his own tech and then pried the doors to the elevator open.

The elevator shaft had been retrofitted since the building had been renovated in the last few decades, but it was largely still the same—steel beams and cables, though the system was automated. He activated the robot's microscopic vision to search for the elevator, spotting it three floors below him. He flicked out its claws and climbed down to inspect the top.

"Think I've got something," Terry said, angling his head towards Bruce.

"What?"

"The paint is chipped around the cable. Not a workerman's boots, either, because these things don't need maintenance. It looks like…some sort of metal plate on the heel and soles of his shoes. Magnets, probably. That's why they never saw the elevator go to Ackerman's floor during the time of death. He rode up to the floor and jumped off when it passed by."

He lifted the robot's gaze towards the wall and searched for the same type of scuffs, finding them not far from Ackerman's level. "I'm also seeing a path that leads up to the roof. Can helicopters fly overhead in this particular district?"

Bruce typed for a bit and then checked. "Yes."

"I'll bet one of them is where he got off. No need to bribe a doorman when you've got roof access. Has Gordon already checked up there?"

"Yes. No trace evidence."

"Alright, then we'll have to look into those flights to see if anything crops up. There's bound to be a money trail."

Bruce felt a faint smirk touch his lips. The kid was picking up on the World's Greatest Detective bit more and more these days. Not that he'd ever tell him that.

"Bring the suit in for now. It might take a while to get the flight information."

Terry flew the robot up to the roof and then summoned the jet. He took off the equipment once the experimental automaton was safely inside it and rubbed his free hand through his hair.

"Not bad for a test run. What made you decide to build it? Concerned about my retirement?"

Bruce snorted. "More like mine."

Terry grinned and shook his head. "My mistake."

"Where's the girl?"

Terry's grin faded into an uneasy look. "She, uh, went to take a shower."

Bruce turned and stared at him for a good ten seconds. Terry sighed. "I didn't…would you stop jumping to conclusions? You're gonna break a hip."

The old man scowled. "If this is going to become a problem, I'm sending her home."

"If what is going to be a problem?"

Bruce sighed. "Nevermind. Start combing through the flight logs. I'll be back."

Terry watched him stalk off towards the stairs and then took a seat in the chair, muttering mutinously about old people.


Max wasn't the least bit surprised to find Bruce's refrigerator under-stocked and nearly bare. He appeared to survive off of various kinds of soup—tomato, cream of mushroom, cheddar and broccoli, clam chowder, the works. Surprisingly, though, they weren't Campbell's or Progresso. He had all organic food with no preservatives, probably to keep his heart healthy. If he had one.

She poured some beef chowder into a bowl, punched a couple minutes into the microwave, and then set about finding something to drink. Prune juice. No. Carrot juice. No. Orange juice. Perfect.

She grabbed the jug and closed the door. She then gave an unladylike screech as she found Bruce standing about a foot away.

"Are you sure you're not part vampire?" Max asked, resting a hand on her chest to keep her heart from rocketing straight out of it in pure fear.

"Not the last time I checked," Bruce said in an utterly droll tone.

"Tch. Like you'd tell me if you were." She opened a few cupboards in search of a glass. Bruce watched her go back and forth with an impassive eye. He waited until she gave up and then tapped his cane against the top of the freezer.

"They're up here."

She scowled and brought down a cup, feeling properly foolish. "Thanks. To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to yell at me again?"

"I don't yell."

"No, I suppose you don't," she said, pouring a liberal amount just to spite him. She paused and then brandished it at him. He shook his head. She shrugged and returned the juice to the shelf in the fridge.

"I'm sure you're used to saying 'jump' and people ask 'up whose butt?'"

A ghost of a smirk touched Bruce's lips. "Colorful."

"So I've been told." The microwave beeped and she retrieved her hot soup. The savory smell made her stomach growl and she sat at the table after locating a spoon.

"If you aren't here to yell at me, why are you here?" she asked before taking in the first mouthful.

"Are you in love with Terry?"

Max choked. She forced herself to swallow the food and then pounded her chest to cough up the bits that had gone down the wrong hole. Her eyes watered as she stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Her hands balled into fists. "First of all, that's none of your damn business. Second of all, that's none of your damn business."

She expected him to launch into an angry tirade of some sort, or another lecture, but he continued standing there with both large hands on his cane. He stared her down for a long moment and then his voice lost some of its accusatory heat.

"Did Terry ever talk to you about Diana?"

She eyed him, unsure of why he changed the subject so abruptly. "Diana who?"

"Diana of Themyscira."

"Wonder Woman? Not much. Why?"

"When I was younger, she and I were friends. Good friends. I trusted her with my life and she did the same. Eventually, we began to develop feelings for each other. I told her I couldn't be in a relationship with anyone because it was too dangerous."

"And she listened to that?"

He smirked. "For a while."

Max's eyebrows lifted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He continued staring at her and then she blushed as she understood what he meant. "Oh. Wow. That's…more than I needed to know."

"Regardless," he said with a bit of sharpness. "The relationship ruined us. We both became too protective of each other and we couldn't continue on that way. We parted ways and haven't spoken much since."

"Why are you telling me this, Bruce?"

"Terry may not understand, or want to understand, what's happening right now. I think you do."

She dropped her eyes to the bowl, scooping up a chunk of sirloin. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine. Deny it if that's what you need right now. The two of you need each other, but it would be a mistake to take that any further. I know you care about him, Max. For your own sake, and his, mind your emotions. Nothing gets you in trouble faster than a distracted heart."

He turned and started to leave, but then she called out to him.

"How's she doing now?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "Fine. Just fine."

He left without another word.


"Why are there so many goddamn airports?" Terry growled in a tone he usually only reserved for criminals, glaring at the computer screen as it continued searching for flight patterns. He sat in Bruce's chair half-slumped over with a headache brewing behind his right eye and his arm twinging painfully every few minutes. He longed to take his painkillers, but he still had work to do. He'd been down here well over two hours and dawn was fast approaching. He hated the thought of going to school as worn out as he was, but it was inevitable.

He tilted his head back and let out a groan. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"I seem to recall you busted into the Cave and stole a suit."

He jumped as Max spoke, having appeared out of nowhere. He knew his nerves were shot since he hadn't heard her come down. That, or she was getting really good at sneaking up on him.

She held out a mug of coffee and he took it, suppressing the urge to propose to her on the spot.

"Right. Not one of my smarter moments."

He sipped the coffee. Three creams, two sugars. Heaven in a cup. He reconsidered proposing.

Max leaned against the console, nodding towards the monitor. "What did you find?"

"Ackerman's killer was careful, but we picked up on a small lead. We think he might have hitched a ride on a helicopter and hopped down once it passed over the apartment. Went through the elevator shaft to get to Ackerman's apartment. Not much, but it's the best we've got right now. Gordon's still not answering so I'll have to come up with something good if I'm going to meet her in person."

"That's right," she said, frowning. "Since Toben's murder happened at the precinct, there's a good chance someone was in on it. Had to be. Her phones might be tapped."

Terry nodded. "If we find something in the next hour, I might have to cut school."

Max grinned. "Anything to avoid first period math, huh?"

He returned the grin. "You read me like a book."

A fond look drifted between them, and as the silence built, Terry felt the need to address the unexplained phenomenon a few hours prior.

"So, uh, about earlier…"

Max held up her hand. "It's alright. We don't have to talk about it."

He frowned. "We don't?"

"Emotions were high. We were both stressed out. It didn't mean anything."

The coffee in his stomach suddenly went subarctic. "Oh. Right. Yeah. That's what I was gonna say."

She shrugged. "Shit happens when you're trying to save the city. We'll be alright as long as we stay focused."

Focused, his brain grumbled. Like the way she was focused on sucking your tongue down her throat. Terry mentally smacked the primeval section of his mind and dropped his gaze back to his now less-delicious coffee.

"Of course. Glad we cleared that up."

"I'd better get going. Valedictorian means I can't skip too many days. Call me when you find something, yeah?"

"Yeah."

She squeezed his uninjured shoulder and then headed for the staircase. She made it to the top of the stairs before an exhausted sigh escaped her lips.

"Idiot."


I'm sorry this is so short. I honestly have been buried under manuscripts and trying to prepare another novel for publication. If you're interested, pop by my profile. My novel, The Black Parade, is on sale now for less than the cost of lunch at McDonalds.

Now that I'm done shameless shilling my shit, please be patient with me. Between working just under 30 hours at my day job and writing at night, it's a bit hard to stay up to date with my fanfics. I'll try to return as soon as I can with more. Thanks for your support in the meantime, my darlings.

Kyoko