"Is it done?" A ghost woman asked, floating in a sterile white room, furnished with only a desk and two chairs.

At one chair sat a bald man, whom looked up at her, nodding. "The results are promising. If all goes well the subject should be ready on time. Then, I'm afraid, it is going to be a wait."

"Yes but unavoidable. We can only pray that is isn't too late."

Chapter 14 Trigger

The League was called away on a mission, leaving me under guard. Nightwing stood by the door but it was Red Tornado whom aided me go through a list provided to me. It wasn't the data base I wanted but it was a starting point. It'd at least give me somewhere to look, to figure out who was targeting me and why. If I had answers to that then I was hopefully able to put it all behind me, then focus properly on finding Sam. Without Sasha.

I studied each file that flashed up on the display before me, filing away people of interest. Names to look up later. Yet in the back of my mind, I knew there was every chance that if I went out on the street again I'd be shot. Someone out there wanted me dead but who? I was sure that anyone from the experiment was more interested in having me back, rather than dead. As for enemies…I didn't have any as Meghan. As Glitch, I had plenty but I'd always kept my two lives very separate. Sasha was the only one who knew both lives, whom knew everything.

And now I couldn't even trust her.

"You're distracted," murmured Nightwing, appearing behind one shoulder, looking at the screen.

I glanced up at him, frowning beneath my mask. "I've had a lot on my mind. This is a priority, though."

"I understand. Any ideas?"

Wary, I quietly asked Red Tornado to bring up the few that I'd asked him to store. Beside me Nightwing leaned in, brushing my shoulder as he examined the files. I found myself watching him, waiting for his decision, and dimly aware of his smell – which was oddly familiar. Shaking off the feeling, I waited for his answer.

"These are healers," he said quietly. "I thought you were looking for someone who could control people."

"My research has shown me that this shooter has made several attempts to find the right host; one who could handle the physical stress. A healer makes sense. That, and he's already tried on several before but they weren't strong enough. The most recent, a father of two, Theo Barnes, was a magician who talent was healing. I believe he was physically strong enough but, like most magicians, his mind was strong. He fought back after he shot Meghan Willoughby."

Nightwing swallowed hard, his Adams apple dipping. "So he's looking for a new host."

"That'd be my guest. If I can find him in the host form I know someone who can trap him, then I can find his real body and put an end to this. Finally." I glanced at him. "You'll get to lock up a bad guy and I get answers. It's a win for everyone."

He was silent for a moment, his lips drawn into a thin line. With a deep breath, as if he'd come to some sort of internal decision and had made peace with it, he fixed his gaze on me, scrutinising for a moment.

"Why don't you want him dead?"

The puzzlement in his voice stung; despite having never taken a life, at having only hacked and stolen from the worst of the worst, I was still seen as a criminal. The kind capable of murder. The line and distinction was so clear to me but, unfortunately, I realised, I looked like just another criminal and murderess. It seemed like the most painful kind of failure, sharp and poignant.

I turned to the screen and drew a deep breath, swallowing the venom that filled my mouth. "If I go down that road...There isn't any coming back from that. At the end of this there's someone I want to see and I could never look them in the eye if I did that."

"They sound pretty special," he murmured.

"Yes, he is. The kind you'd shred yourself apart for," I murmured softly.

"Boyfriend?"

I chuckled and corrected him. "Brother." After a pause, Sam's smiling face and kind eyes filling my mind. "He's the only blood family I've ever known. I'll get him back."

"Someone has him?" Keen interest stirred in his voice.

"Yes but I'll get him back. Then I'll make them pay. After all, there's plenty I can do without killing someone."

All thoughts of Glitch and her mysterious brother vanished from Dick's mind as he shuffled into his apartment, the lights off and the feint smell of pasta in the air. He smiled tiredly as he saw in the fridge was a plate left aside for him, accompanied by a brief note.

Thought you might be hungry when you got home.

M

He took an apple instead, purely because he was too tired to reheat the dinner, though he made a mental note to thank her and eat it tomorrow. Throwing the apple core in the bin he downed two glasses of water and made his way down the hall, pausing at Meghan's room. He gently opened the door and peered in.

There, sprawled out in the most ungraceful way, her head half buried in a pillow and her hair a wild mess, was Meghan. Feint moonlight spilled in from the bedroom window, casting her in a silvery, ethereal light. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. With a regretful breath he started to withdraw when she stirred and sat up with a yawn.

"Dick?"

He paused for a moment, then reopened the door fully. "Sorry if I woke you. Didn't know if you were back from the Olympia."

"Didn't end up going in. Called in sick."

"Sick?" He echoed, taking a step into the room.

She smiled tiredly. "Just a bad head ache and a bit of nausea. I've slept most of today. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"You sure? I can stay."

"I'm sure Bruce has a lot of work for you. Besides, I'll be fine," she insisted, tilting her head with a lopsided smile. "But on the offer of staying… Just to sleep by the way."

Once he had a shower and dressed he crept back into the room. She lifted the covers and let him in, curling into his side, surprising him a little. After a breath he relaxed and drew her into his arms, rubbing small circles on her back.

"Can this be a norm?" She whispered into his chest, her breath tickling and soft.

Confusion gnawed at him. He felt his grip on her tighten a fraction, the feint fear in her voice making him uneasy. Glitch's file on Meg, the shooting… He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"Sure."

After a pause: "Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad I met you."

He didn't reply but listened as she fell asleep in his arms. Yet he was left awake, staring at the ceiling, her words replaying over and over in his head. I'm glad I met you.

Like the words of someone dying.

The Thorn and Hound was the least famous of Benny's clubs, yet it was known to the locals to have the best beer. As I sat at the bar, nursing a drink, my mind replayed over last night. I'm glad I met you? I stared down at the beer, my nose wrinkling in disgust. Geez, I had gotten soft. Weaker, too, I thought, recalling the blood I'd coughed up this morning after Dick left. I'd quickly cleaned it up and Benny had called a few minutes later.

Looking across the dingy club, lit by dozens of weak vintage lights, over the sprawling old tables and rickety chairs, I wondered why Benny even kept the place. Every other place he owned was expensively furnished, well-staffed, had top quality security and was always busy. The bar was pretty much empty, however, save for myself, the bartender restocking the shelves, and a couple on a table by the window. From the state of the bar, it seemed like the couple was probably the most action the bar had seen in a while.

The front door opened, bells jangling noisily as two burly men came in, followed by a sauntering Benny, and two more guards after him. The latter ushered the couple out, locked the door, and then closed the windows. As they did Benny took a seat next to me, watching almost anxiously, not with his usual sparkling humour. Once they were done he ordered a drink but didn't speak until it was before him.

"I just had a meeting with Vandal Savage," he said and took a swig of his drink. "Officially my least favourite chat."

I stilled. "What was he after?"

"You, of course. He's uncovered our relationship and said he wants you," said Benny, anger flashing in his eyes. "Like I was just someone he could order about. Arrogant prick."

"What did you say?"

Benny's eyes flickered up, measuring. "I didn't throw you under the bus, if that's what you're thinking."

"You should have," I said quietly. "You've done so much for me, risked so much – you shouldn't risk his anger for me."

"I didn't do that either. I just said you had run out of town, chasing after the League for something. Relax, I just spun some bull but it wouldn't hurt if you kept quiet over the next few months. Like zero Glitch time, if that's okay."

I nodded slowly. "There's still the issue of the shooter."

"I've got people looking into the list you gave me. We're also combing through footage over the city that day. Something will come up. My advice for you, though? Enjoy that new man of yours. Enjoy the next few months. This peace I'd got for you won't last forever."

I arched a brow. "My 'new man'?"

Benny grinned like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering. "Don't play coy. Richard Grayson. You're living with him now, too."

With a laugh, a smile and a shake of my head I didn't reply. Going Dick after everything had blown up with Sasha had been an impulsive decision. The days spent their after were suspended in a dream. Being around him didn't feel real, not really. It felt more like everything was waiting for me to make a decision, to stay or to move on. But I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave him. I liked the way he made me feel, the kindness in his words, the warmth of his arms. Within them I felt safe, like Vandal Savage couldn't hurt me.

But it was a dream nonetheless and eventually you had to wake up.

Sasha's right eye was swollen over, making it hard to concentrate on anything as she was dragged down a sterile hall. The air reeked of bleach, which burned her nose and left a bitter taste on her tongue. She was dimly aware of two hands curled painfully around each bicep, their nails digging into her skin. With each step they took, the resounding thump jarring in her ears – yet still clear enough that she could count it. It was the only thing she could focus on. Twenty steps before they stopped again. A door opened. Four more steps before the door closed. The walking continued for fifty more steps before another door opened, someone pushed her and she felt them lift her up. She was laid down, then the door clicked shut. The hands were gone.

She was alone.

It seemed like an eternity as she lay there, her mind straying to the moment she was walking to the apartment after a meeting with Veizner. It had been late, a little before midnight, when a van had screeched up beside her. The sliding door shrieked as it opened, startling her but she hadn't any time to react before they jumped her. Injected her with something until the world spiralled into darkness.

Drawing her mind out of the memory was the sound of someone entering the room. She heard them sit, a chair creaking against the floor.

"Hello Sasha," said a soft, girlish voice. "I know you're feeling ghastly at the moment but I'll make you feel much better. Then we have much to talk about."

There was a rustling of movement and then cool hands against her arm, soft like silk but warm, too. A strange warmth rippled out from her touch, slithering through her arm until her whole body felt light. Free. Then her vision cleared and she could make out the plain white ceiling, the plain walls – and the young dark haired girl sitting next to her. She was smiling at Sasha in that innocent, wide-eyed way.

"W-where am I?"

"Somewhere safe. Providing, of course, you cooperate."

Confusion furrowed in Sasha's dark brow. "Cooperate?"

"Vandal Savage has some questions. It has been a long ten years, after all. There is quite a bit for us all to catch up on. Now, shall we begin?"

Bruce was baffled and he hated it. Despite all his efforts he hadn't dug up much in the way of incriminating evidence. Every inch of footage he had he'd watched several times, combing through at extremely slow speeds. Primarily that surrounding her apartment she'd shared with the mysterious Sasha, whose files were just as confusing. Some data was faked, clearly but other information rang with an air of truth. The footage, unfortunately, shed little light. He watched as the regular folk came and went, following a routine he'd carefully jotted down. After a week he knew all the residents, their routines, every inch of their lives. Even down to the speeding fine that Mrs Walter on the top floor apartment had gotten last week in downtown Gotham. No stone had been unturned, yet there was still a maddening shadow hanging around Meghan Willoughby and her much older sister, Sasha, who bore very little physical appearance.

He pushed back from the desk, rubbing his eyes. In the corner of his eye he watched Alfred approach, impassive, and carrying a tray of food. Sandwiches. Alfred set it down and stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the screen inscrutably.

"My, you have gone into quite the effort to prove the nefarious nature of Miss Willoughby," murmured Alfred.

He glanced at Alfred, one brow up. "You think I'm overdoing it?"

"I fear that if you pry too much you risk losing Master Richard in the process. From all reports he is quite besotted with the girl," replied Alfred gravely, worry touching his wise old eyes.

Bruce shook his head. "He'll see the truth."

"I'm afraid that he is young, Master Bruce. Head strong and very emotional when it comes to people he cares about. Oh, you have this idea he's as cold and stoic as you but this life has not hardened him as it has you – not yet. I only ask you tread carefully when you bring all this out. Done wrong and you will lose him forever."

As Alfred went away Bruce was left staring at the screen. Meghan Willoughby stared back at him, and that look in her eyes. He swore she was taunting him.

I'll tear everything you care about apart and you won't be able to do a thing. Watch me burn it all.