Author's Notes: Yes! I'm back! Hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait!

I've decided to consider new names for this story after all, despite the confusion this could bring. Please send me ideas for new titles in a review or PM – or feel free to tell me you'd prefer it stay the same! I will pick my favorites and put them up in a poll two weeks from the date this chapter was posted. Thank you!

It would also be absolutely fantastic if anyone could come up with a cover picture or help me with the summary! And don't worry – I ALWAYS give credit. And if any of my readers are aspiring artists, I also have a kind of top secret (plot-wise) art project that I would like some help with. I have the design down in my head, but I really could use someone to sketch it up…

Robin had done all he could to track down these strange black, and – he hated to admit – probably military vehicles that had attacked the Canterfield Estate and taken the +anima Husky.

There was no trace of them, either in the media, in the police database, on traffic cameras… there was nothing. Cyborg was sure all the systems must have been hacked, but whoever it was had been incredibly capable of covering their tail.

All charges against Canterfield were mysteriously dropped, as if he'd never been taken down to the station by the Teen Titans, had never been questioned, had never made a call to his lawyers or arranged his own bail for kidnapping a meta. To top it all off, the police had refused to review the 'theft and vandalism' of the Canterfield Estate, and later showed no records of such a request even being made.

Someone very, very powerful was pulling strings. And it absolutely stank of shady politics and military shenanigans.

In summary, they were in a much, much more difficult situation than before. The only thing they had going for them this time was an actual photograph and biometrics of the victim (not that they dared use that particular term around the remaining +anima). Cyborg had recorded the data promptly and added it electronically to the file, even printing out hardcopies of the adorable (and heartrending) photograph of the +anima all napping together peacefully, taken so shortly before this situation had blown up in their faces.

The leader of the Teen Titans was staring at that photograph now. Husky was indeed as beautiful as Cooro and Nana had insisted – quite remarkably so. Very few could still be pretty with so many injuries, while so obviously in pain and ill and in a sleep closer to unconsciousness. The child was a living doll.

And being treated, not very gently, exactly like one. A doll. An object. A curiosity and trophy.

And it was entirely his fault.

Robin was secretly devastated at his complete failure of leadership. It had been his order to abandon the +anima after the case was 'solved', his conclusion that they were no longer in danger, his rejection of the worries his teammates brought up. It was him that the +anima had every reason to glare at in distrust, to blame for the loss of their friend. His fault that the cheerful camaraderie from just earlier that very day had dissolved into suspicion and long, uncomfortable silences.

His fault that their friend could've been dissected by now and they'd never even know. Never even find the body. Such a story certainly wouldn't be unheard of in Gotham. Even in other cities, actually. Aliens, metas, and the like were still captured, killed, and experimented on regularly despite the Justice League's best efforts. They were just too much of a prize for the less moral of scientists and doctors to resist.

He was desperately hoping to be dead wrong about the child being dissected. Desperately hoping that whoever had kidnapped Husky would see the child as a prize too pretty and unique to actually endanger the life of. That they would want to keep the +anima alive as long as possible, to continue their studies indefinitely.

He pictured the limp bodies of the unconscious children in his mind, their devastated faces upon waking, Nana's scream, Cooro's horrified eyes, Senri's complete blankness. The betrayal they felt painted on their faces as they turned to glare at the Titans when they caught up. The anger they felt, misdirected inward at themselves, with good reason, for they were powerless, mere children, and while strong and self-sufficient, far from powerful or dangerous by Jump City standards, let alone the Gotham standard Robin had grown up with.

This wasn't another failure like Terra, who betrayed them and threw her lot in with Slade. This wasn't himself, blackmailed and threatened. This wasn't like the other innocents he had failed in the past, even seeing them killed before his very eyes. Ones he hadn't had a chance to help, that he'd been powerless to save. Somehow this was so much worse.

Because he had promised, and he had delivered, and then he had failed to follow through. It was like saving a little girl from a bully, then taking her home to a drunk and abusive parent. A disgusting failure on all accounts.

He wasn't there when it really mattered. He had saved the child from an obsessive admirer, someone who wanted to adopt the boy and give him a home – and abandoned him to be captured by someone with power, money, and military and political backing.

He had failed.

The hand not holding the photo clenched in rage, and he angrily tore his domino mask off and leaned over to flick a switch.

But he would not fail again. No matter what he had to do to reunite the +anima.

Even if that included asking for help.

Dr. Jorgenson motioned for everyone to take a step back as his specimen's breathing hitched and eyes fluttered. It had fallen into unconsciousness several hours ago – which made their tests much easier, but had also hampered their ability to measure anything mental or emotional about the beautiful creature.

Enormous light blue eyes blinked open, clouded in pain and narrowed against the light. They glanced around, quickly landing on the doctor's face and staring in alarm, which morphed into anger within a matter of seconds as the creature realized it was trapped. It immediately started struggling, spine arching away from the metal lab table, tail swishing the scant few inches it could from side to side, human arms straining against the straps around its wrists.

The doctor leaned over the creature, making note of every reaction and filing it away, comparing it to the previous times the 'mermaid' had regained consciousness. It had followed the same pattern every time, and as he watched, this time was falling right into the same sequence. Pain, fear, anger, desperation, terror, panic. If they did not interfere, the creature would strain itself until it again fell into unconsciousness.

Which wouldn't do. His guests were on their way.

"Knox, administer fifteen milligrams of AG."

Knox looked up in slight surprise, but nodded and retrieved the correct vial from the cabinets along one wall. He was back at the table with the prepared drug in seconds.

The merchild tried to scream as his eyes caught sight of the needle and syringe. The only sign of his attempt was a stream of bubbles within the water mask covering his face.

"Calm down," ordered Dr. Jorgenson, not that he expected the creature to really listen. He held down the arm to keep it perfectly steady while his sub-researcher administered the drug. The child tried desperately to escape, actually breaking out into a sweat from its exertions, but the old man held his arm completely immobile.

"…He's crying again," said Georgette softly, though the sub-researcher didn't look overly concerned. More like she couldn't quite understand why.

"We'll clean him up before the board gets here," replied Dr. Jorgenson, easing up on their specimen's arm as he felt the creature relax. He turned his gaze to the creature's face, watching those eyes, so wide with panic, slowly soften and relax.

As a test, the doctor laid a hand on the merchild's arm – no reaction. Whenever he was partially conscious previously, even under the other drugs, he'd still tried to shrug away from contact. This was much better.

"There we go," he continued. "Harmless as a butterfly. Remmy, try removing the mask."

Remmy quickly and efficiently flicked off the water tank and removed the mask. The merchild didn't change back, only laid there motionless, blinking as it half-focused on the people staring at it.

Dr. Jorgenson raised his hand to the creature's face, only getting a pair of dazed eyes half-focusing on him. A strange humming sound came from the creature's throat and it reflexively half-closed it's eyes, leaning into the contact. The doctor's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Note that," he ordered Knox. "No natural self-preservative instinct when in an induced state of relaxation. Perhaps it does not have any natural predators in its native habitat, or perhaps this is more related to the specimen's apparent prepubescence. "

He frowned at the specimen nudging his hand, and nodded to his assistant to help him as he began unstrapping most of the bindings on the creature. As soon as the creature was somewhat free, it turned on its side and curled forwards in on itself, sighing and humming to itself as it made itself comfortable. It whimpered when it moved its injured arm and tail, but quickly relaxed again.

"Appears to enjoy contact, though so far only in this state," commented the doctor, laying a hand on the creature's head and seeing the specimen actually half-smile. He patted it like he would a dog and the soft, pleased sound increased. He stroked the head, then frowned as he again noticed the pierced ears the creature had.

The creature was oblivious to anything they were doing, so he lowered his hands to the creature's ears, carefully removing the sapphire studs. The specimen seemed to interpret the contact as comforting and didn't fight in the least.

"Sir?" asked Georgette, puzzled.

"Such baubles could lead less academic minds to jump to conclusions," commented Dr. Jorgenson. "Leading them to attribute emotional depth and psychological attributes to the specimen without any scientific evidence. We're already going to have our work cut out for us making sure people understand that our specimen is not Atlantean or metahuman, but rather a highly advanced type of fish, one that could create a whole new branch of ichthyology."

His assistants nodded, and at a gesture from their boss, began prepping the room and their specimen for the board members' preview. The doctor himself took a soft towel and wiped the tear tracks from the creature's face and the sweat (which in itself was a puzzle) from its human arms, neck, and face. The specimen seemed to enjoy the attention, half-dozing from the soft strokes.

He frowned, letting his fingers trail over the tattoo-like markings, frowning as he recalled the markings were also present in its 'human' form, and, was it his imagination, or had they had seemed to shimmer during the transformation? He would have to study the recordings in depth later.

Dr. Jorgenson was a man of science. As such, he obviously did not believe in magic. In fact, he was deeply involved in researching the science behind so-called Atlantean magic, particularly their hydrokinesis and telepathy. So far everything seemed to involve electrical pulses operating on a subatomic level. Meaning it could be observed, as well as controlled.

Perhaps the activation of this almost unbelievable transformation was similar. It certainly deserved further study.

Robin's Titans' communicator buzzed as he finally left the communications room. He growled to himself as he snatched it from his side and flipped it open, dreading to hear more bad news or have to deal with the usual Jump City villains. Not that he wouldn't mind someone to beat on at this moment. A little stress-relief, as it were.

"Bumblebee?" he asked in surprise, as the leader of the Titans East appeared on the small screen.

"Hey Robin," she greeted distractedly, moving her head as if trying to see around him. "Just, by any chance, have you seen Aqualad around?"

Robin frowned at the worry and veiled hope in her voice. "I'm afraid not," he replied.

Her face fell.

"Bumblebee? What's going on?" asked Robin, instantly concerned for their mutual friend and Titan.

"It's, umm… probably nothing. He was mad and stormed off back home. Well, he said he was going home, anyway."

"First off, why was he mad?"

"Oh, just some stupid fight with Speedy about fisheries."

That figured. Aqualad was worse than Beastboy about eating fish.

"So he went back to Atlantis?"

"Well, we thought, but that was two weeks ago and when we called the place to apologize…"

"He wasn't there. Had he left? Or never got there?"

"… Apparently the latter…" admitted Bumblebee, knowing this reflected poorly on her abilities as leader.

"He didn't have his communicator?"

"You know how he gets. Just blew up and left. We found it in his room when we tried to call."

"And it took you two weeks… why?" asked Robin, finally letting his annoyance show. This was just too much on top of his stress with the +animas.

"The… the rest of us might have got involved in the argument towards the end. It started to get… I guess you would say… racial?"

"Human versus Atlantean? No wonder he stormed out."

Bumblebee flushed, but accepted the admonishment. It had been two weeks since the fight, after all.

"It usually doesn't go so far…"

Robin sighed and rubbed his forehead. He hadn't meant that to come out so harsh.

"It happens, Bumblebee. Remember, this team has a vegan on it as well. Long as you all apologize in the end, and I'm sure he said harsh words as well. More importantly, do you have any leads?"

"Mas y Menos are searching the coastline for clues. Speedy's asking around the city. I'm calling around. So far, nothing."

"I know you don't want to hear this, Bumblebee, but no matter how bad the fight got, two weeks is too long for Aqualad. Something must have happened."

She paled. Her hands noticeably shook as she fixed her hair.

"I know. When we thought he'd gone home, we figured it was just Atlantean politics or something. But now…? Do… do you think he was…?" Her rapidly paling face and trembling made clear what her unspoken worries were.

"Most likely some underwater problem he ran into on the way to Atlantis, Bumblebee. There's no reason to assume he was captured or killed, and if he was kidnapped, we would've heard something by now."

"What else can we do?"

"Explain the whole situation to Aquaman, apologize sincerely, and keep me posted on any findings."

"Alright. Thank you, Robin… but maybe you guys could…?"

Robin was shaking her head before she even finished, trying hard but knowing he was failing at hiding the stress lines pulling at his face.

"I'm sorry, Bumblebee. We'll keep our eyes and ears open, but we've got a kidnapped mermaid on our hands and his friends are a handful."

Bumblebee's eyes lit up at the same moment the connection was made in both their minds.

"A mermaid?! Then maybe Aqualad…!"

Robin shook his head at her excitement. "Not likely. This has all been in the last four days. Plus the boy's not even really a mermaid – long story."

But he couldn't help but wonder.

He felt it.

The familiar tingle in that special part of his mind, the aching in his heart. It was in trouble. It was terrified, traumatized, in pain, all alone and despairing of any help from anywhere.

It made him want to scream, to cry, to smash through any and all barriers to get to whatever aquatic creature was crying so. It made him edgy, nervous, impetuous – basically, his instincts screamed at him to throw logic and caution to the wind and just go. To follow the oceanic law written deep in every Atlantean's heart – to protect their realm, and every living thing within it, to the death.

Sure, it made him look ridiculous to land-bound humans, with their limited senses, lack of telepathy and empathy, and belief that the world was theirs to use. How many times had he seen the admiring sparkles in the eyes of his fangirls die when he went hysterical over an abused goldfish? How many eyerolls had he seen when he tried to explain that it was crying?

He tried. Oh, it was impossible to describe how hard he tried to live with his human team. How many times a day he replayed Aquaman's ideals, counsel, and reproof about mankind in his mind, trying to force himself to be understanding. Just figures the day he'd had enough was the day he was captured by a human who saw him as no more than a fish.

The screaming in his head had stopped, along with the pleading and crying out. But there was still a mind-numbing ache of pain and a broken soul. A soul that belonged to the sea. A very young soul, much too young for whatever it was being put through.

Aqualad had been restlessly pacing the dry, cavelike part of his prison – a facsimile of his beloved underwater caverns – when that last realization hit him.

A child. Rage overtook him.

It was enough that they had kidnapped and experimented on him, the student of the great ocean king Aquaman himself, practically a prince in his own right, and a superhero for goodness' sake! He could deal with the stupid tests and trials and drugs. It wasn't the first time he's been slapped in manacles or chained to a wall.

But he would die if he didn't stop them from doing anything like that to a child of the sea.

And so he found himself, against all reason, pounding with all his Atlantean strength at the eastern wall of the dry part of his prison.

It wouldn't make sense to a human, but he knew the child was on the other side of the stupid fake-rock wall. And he didn't care if his knuckles were bleeding, if the manacles were chaffing, because he would keep going until the wall was no longer between him and the child, because a child in pain was infinitely more important than his own health or freedom…

He wasn't even aware that he was mumbling.

"Turn that up," ordered Dr. Jorgenson, frowning as he turned from his notes and reports on the mermaid to the screen, speaker, and observing researcher watching the Atlantean.

His eyes fell on the enraged Atlantean attacking the wall at the same time as the researcher turned up the volume to make sense of the mumblings.

"Let it go! Stop it! Don't you dare! Stop! Out of my way! Not a child! Move over – I'll take care of it! No, no, stop it, everything's okay! I'm coming! Just a minute, on my way! Leave the child alone! I'll take care of it!" And more of the same, in one long stream, with barely a pause for breath.

"He knows about your mermaid, sir?" asked the researcher, bewildered and rather worried about the extent of the self-inflicted injuries on their specimen's hands from trying to bash through the reinforced wall. He quickly turned a dial to lengthen the chains attached to the creature's manacles, fearing it would dislocate its arms, or worse.

"Apparently Atlantean telepathy extends beyond communication," mused the doctor. He thought to himself for a minute, then leaned over to an extra screen and quickly rewound the recording to the time the Atlantean first started to exhibit signs of restlessness. About an hour ago, when they had brought the creature down to the observation rooms after they received the board certification for their project.

His electron disruptor was actually doing its job, then, since the Atlantean didn't notice anything until the mermaid was within the shielded area. It probably didn't help that the poor mermaid had been in another blind panic and Dr. Jorgenson had refused to tranquilize or drug the child again. They critically needed more observation data.

The two projects really weren't related, but an observation of their interaction could be useful. And there certainly were overlaps in the research and experiments he could perform. Besides, their Atlantean had been astoundingly… uncooperative. Immune to most of their drugs, refusing to use any of his more advanced abilities, hadn't even spoken a single word to any of them. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise to a project he'd begun to worry about.

He leaned over and pulled a switch down.

"Make sure everything's recorded and documented," he instructed the researcher sitting at the controls. He sat down to watch the show.

There was a click, then a loud thud that froze Aqualad's exertions. A strained mechanical whirring, and the wall slowly broke in two and began pulling apart. Before the walls were even far enough apart for him to get through, he had lunged forward and was stretching through the gap. Desperately squeezing and pulling and pushing and squirming to get through to the child.

Aqualad's eyes were straining through the gap in the wall, even before he could get his head through. As he pushed and pulled and scrabbled and squirmed, his searching eyes finally fell on a figure far more mermaid-like than any Atlantean he'd ever known.

He burst through the wall and rushed over to the child whose head was crying out in such pain, even unconscious. As he checked vital signs and examined the child's injuries, he took account of every detail that might help him identify the child's species and family.

He was not familiar at all with the child's race or family. While he knew various Atlanteans with silver hair and scales, the child's form was off. The child's head, throat, and arms appeared perfectly human, for one. Even Aqualad had webbed fingers – he'd thought all Atlanteans did. And, while the child had wavelike marks where most Atlantean families had gills, the child's gills were over his chest, and they were actually more like plates than gills, much more solid.

However, while he could not immediately identify the family the child belonged to, he was certain the child was Atlantean. She was breathing air quite comfortably, for one, even though there was nothing mammalian about her body or tail.

Even then, though, the water would surely be more comfortable for her. Though he was concerned over the bandages on the child's head, right arm, and shortly below the child's dorsal fins.

What had those humans done?!

But, like any Atlantean, Aqualad trusted water far more than any human bandages. Thus he felt no qualms in lifting the child and carrying her over to the underwater part of the cavern, gently lowering her into the water. He carefully made sure the child was breathing in the water properly and that her gills were working.

He decided the child must be female as he monitored her. While still pre-pubescent, the child's form was very delicate, as well as very pretty. Also, silver was generally a female color, with the male equivalent being brighter – generally a red, yellow, or blue. In the more populous families, yes they were more humanlike in color, but with the silver hair he was sure it was a rarer family.

Aqualad lowered the child to the bottom. Like any Atlantean, the child also sunk in water when asleep or unconscious. He made sure the pretty young child was in a comfortable position on the artificial sea floor, not putting any stress on any of her injuries.

The bandages soon grew waterlogged and Aqualad carefully unclipped the already falling apart bandages and unwound them. He took care of the head bandage first.

He carefully unwound it, making sure nothing pulled on the poor girl's beautiful silver-blue hair. There was a large, bruised bump, probably from hitting her head as the skin was scabbed over.

He then unwound the child's arm. Nothing appeared wrong, but the child whimpered as he touched it. A strain, perhaps a hairline fracture or something. That would need support, so he used his hydrokinesis to snugly wrap the water to support the child's arm firmly.

He next turned his attention to the large wrap around the child's upper tail. If she was human, it'd be her upper thighs. He unwound the bandage, then frowned at the large, taped square. This was looking more and more serious. The tape was coming off from the water already, so he very carefully pulled it off, pulling away the square and tape and revealing an ugly stitched wound.

Aqualad had been fighting criminals for years. He instantly recognized a torn gunshot wound. It looked like the actual wound was a couple days old, then it'd been torn from strain.

Poor child. Poor, dear little Atlantean girl. Kidnapped from her family, injured, probably experimented on.

No more. He would watch over this girl now, and he'd never let those humans get their hands on her again!

They'd surely come for her. There had to be a reason they'd captured her – perhaps because she was such a rare species of Atlantean? Regardless, he'd protect the poor child with his life.

Author's Notes: Hope you all enjoyed, and please don't forget to review! I'm very excited about this upcoming arc, and I really hope you readers are too!

Oh, and don't forget to vote in the poll that WILL be up in two weeks! Thank you!