A/N I own nothing, all characters belong to DC and Warner Bros.

Thank you all for reviewing:)

"Charles."

"What?"

"I want to call him Charles." Helena said quietly, staring at her newborn son nestled in her arms. "Charlie for short."

"…That's my name."

"I know it is, dummy." Helen smirked, "I'm saying I want to name my son after you."

Vic stared at her in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"Helen, I'm serious." Q frowned, "What could possibly possess you to name your child after me?"

"You're my friend, Q, and a damn good one at that." She smiled, "Besides, if I name him after you then maybe he'll grow up to be as cute as you."

The tips of his ears burned red at the compliment. "Not exactly a model image of the word 'cute', Helen. You don't have to name him that because you feel like you owe me or something, okay?"

"Just shut up, Vic. I'm naming him after you whether you like it or not."

"...Thank you." He whispered, "That...That is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"You deserve it." She replied with a tired grin. "Now get over here and look at your nephew."

The word 'nephew' stung, but Q tried to shrug it off. While it was hardly a groundbreaking revelation that Helena did not love him they way he wished and chose to spend the rest of her life with another man, it still hurt. He loved her and wanted her to feel the same.

Vic had already made a deal with himself that he would take care of her and her son the best he could, but that didn't say much. From the second he had laid eyes on Helen's infant he'd promised himself that genetics didn't matter and that it was every much of his own son in the way Helena was his woman. In reality both beliefs didn't hold water, but reality had never been too great to start with.

So inside this tiny little hospital room he hid from the truth. Here, Helena loved him beyond words and had just given birth to their son. A beautiful, healthy little boy who looked so much like her anyone could see they were related. They would take him home in two days and Vic would have a family for the first time in his life. Here little self-lies and fantasies were infinitely preferable to the truth.

"Isn't he a doll?" Helena asked, her face beaming with pride.

Vic took in the child's pink face, chocolate eyes, and curly raven hair. He could tell by the way his chubby hand was curled into a fist that he would be a fighter, too. Just like his mother. "He's so...small."

"He's a baby, Q. If he was big then it would be pretty hard to squeeze him out of my-"

"I get the picture." Vic replied, gently cutting her off. "Do you really want to name your son after me?"

"Of course I do. Charlie is your first name, isn't it? I know everyone calls you Vic now, but-"

"Charles is legally my first name, yes."

"Mm, I think Vic suits you better."

"So do I, hence me going by my middle name."

"One more thing, if you don't mind." Vic raised an eyebrow and nodded for her to continue, which she did. "If it isn't too much trouble, would you mind being the Godfather? I know it's odd since Dinah is the Godmother and normally Ollie would be Godfather by default, but I trust you a hell of a lot more than Queen."

"Certainly springing a lot on me." Q chuckled uncomfortably as he rubbed his hands together and looked down at his feet bashfully.

"Sorry, if I'm asking too much than just-"

"It's fine." He murmured, "Just...wasn't what I was expecting. Love to be his Godfather, and if you really want to name him Charlie..."

"I do."

"Then it's up to you."

"Thank you." Helen smiled softly, reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. "You're as much of a doll as Charlie is."

Vic reddened and turned away.

"You know after everything we've been through you think we'd be able to agree on dinner."

Vic looked at her and frowned. "I told you, we can't go to the Américains Stupides Venir la Chercher because the place is run by the French Mafia."

"There is no French Mafia!"

"That's exactly what they want you to think."

Helena closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose to try to calm down. No matter how many times she explained to Vic that no, there was no French Mafia, or that not every restaurant in the city was out to destroy its costumers, she knew it would be futile. Vic was almost as bad as she was when it came to being stubborn.

But the key word was almost.

"You promised me that we could go grab a bite at something besides McDonald's after patrol tonight!" She protested.

"Yes, as long as the establishment of your choosing isn't tainted by a higher power bent on destroying our way of life."

"Ooh, you can be such an ass sometimes!"

"Likewise!"

The next ten minutes were spent walking in angry silence. Helena huffed at the unfairness of it all and crossed her arms over her shoulders, staring at anything but Vic. Stubborn bastard.

Q buried his hands deep into his pockets and glared at the sidewalk as though it had been the cause of this stupid spat. He didn't want to fight with Helen; he wanted to work on winning her over. On the other hand, he sure as hell wasn't going to that damn French restaurant she wanted to try.

You could never trust an eating facility where snobby men wore guns and carried crescent rolls.

Still, walking her to her apartment while she was angry wasn't going to help either one of them this evening.

Vic decided to at least try and apologize. It wasn't his fault, but he'd learned years ago it was better to just let Helena think she'd won to stay on her good side. "Still want to eat something before you go home?"

"That depends on where you plan on taking me." Before he could respond she added, "And it can't be a place with a drive-thru either, wise guy."

"Well what are you in the mood for?"

"Mm, something sweet and light."

Vic fought back the urge to smack himself on the head. Why did women have to be so complicated? A simple 'Chinese' or 'meat' would have been sufficient, but 'sweet and light'? What the hell did that even mean?

At his confused expression Helena clarified, "Not a heavy meal, just something to fill me up, like coffee."

"Why didn't you simply say so?"

"I did!"

"Yes, but you said it so...feminine."

"Feminine?"

"Yes, I couldn't even understand it."

She laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder, the sounds of the city at night (or morning, depending on your perspective) muffling it, much to Vic's dismay. He always had a soft spot for her laughter, though to be honest he had a soft spot with almost everything when it came to Helena.

Except her taste in music. 80's rock was so not his choice of tunes.

"Coffee, eh?" Vic asked, "Don't really know where to get any untainted caffeine in Gotham."

"The great and almighty Question doesn't know something?" Helena gasped in mock disbelief as she smacked her palm against her cheek. "But how can that be? You know everything!"

"Shut up."

"Aw come on, you can't blame me for rubbing it in, can you?"

"Yes."

"Well doesn't that suck for you? Anyways, if you still want to join me I know a little cafe down the street with the best muffins on the planet."

"How do you know? Have you tried every muffin on the planet?"

"It's an expression, wise guy." Helena scowled, "And if you don't knock it off you're not getting anything. I'll make you wait outside for me in the cold."

"Helena, have you investigated this establishment at all?" Vic questioned, raising a thick eyebrow. "Do you know what they put in caffeine? There's a reason it's so addicting. For all you know you could be strolling in there and purchasing nothing more than liquefied meth."

Helena rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him towards the small cafe nestled in the corner of the dim street they were walking on. He followed her with a frown on his face, but inside the building nonetheless. If there really was something going on here (which there was, he could feel it) then it was best to follow her in there for protection against the evils of the java bean.

That, and he needed an extra boost of energy, too.

"You take it black, right?" Helen asked as she wrinkled her nose. Personally she hated black coffee; it was too strong.

"Yes." Q nodded as they approached the tired looking cashier. "Helen, are you sure this is a good id-"

"Vic, we're getting coffee. Deal with it." She ordered as they reached the counter. Helen eyed the cashier wearily and looked at the menu as she fished around her pockets for money. "I'll have a number 12, please. Cream with two sugars, and a pumpkin muffin."

The man looked at them and Vic tensed. It didn't really bother him that they were in a seedy part of town or that he had the eyes of a heroin addict. No, Q was preparing for the Illuminati to spring their trap (subtly, of course; Illuminati agents were always subtle) and try to lock them in their clutches. God only knew how much ground they could stand against the Cadre.

"He want anything?" The cashier grunted pointing to Vic who shook his head and took a step away from the counter just to be safe.

Helena gave him a look between a glare and a weak acceptance that no, she was not going to get him to drink coffee, and sighed. That dammed man. "No, he doesn't."

"That'll be $4.79."

After a few moments of scourging around in her pockets she found what she was looking for and handed him a crisp five dollar bill. "Here."

As he turned around to prepare to go fix the Italian her order, Helena turned to Q and placed a hand on her hip.

"What?"

"You whine and bitch about how hungry and thirsty you are but when we get to a place that serves food you refuse to eat it because it's 'evil'?"

"Excuse me for not wanting to perish at the hands of java."

"Sometimes I swear I'm going to kill you one day."

"You guys married?" The cashier snickered as he poured Helen's cup of coffee and watched the two bicker. "You fight like an old married couple."

"No, just friends." Helen replied curtly.

"Mhm, I know I go out for coffee with all my friends at four in the morning."

"Just shut up and give me my damn drink."

"Sorry, just trying to make conversation." He apologized as he handed her a steaming cup of Joe and a small paper bag with the outline of a pumpkin on it. "You gonna give me a tip?"

"Here's a tip: learn some decent grammar." Helena snapped, snatching the bag out of his hand and stomping over to an empty table. Which, considering the time, was easy as pie. Vic shrugged at the man half-apologetically before following her across the room and into a recluse booth in the back.

"That guy was such an ass." She muttered as she slid onto the padded seat of the booth. "Can you believe the nerve of him? What, was I buying a coffee or playing Twenty Questions?"

"Apparently a bit of both." Vic chuckled as he sat across from her and took of his hat and gloves. He supposed he could have left them in his old car, but he always felt lost without them. It was better to just hold them instead of risking losing them to a car burglar.

"Whatever. I'm just glad I got my order." Helen admitted as she opened her back and the sweet scent of pumpkin instantly filled the air. "God, I'm starving."

Vic watched her open her mouth and take a wide bite, his inner teenager whispering what she could do to him with that mouth in the back of his mind. He quickly shook it off (with a little help from the fierce bite she took, but only a little) and grinned.

"What's so funny?" Helena demanded through a mouth full of pumpkin muffin.

"You." Q smiled, "Don't think I've ever met anyone who enjoys food as much as you do but has a body that would make Kim Kardashian feel insecure."

"Thanks, I think."

"Just an observation."

"I'll bet." She smirked, propping up her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. "Do you observe my body a lot?"

"No! Well, sometimes, but..." He trailed off uncomfortably and looked at what was left of her food. "Don't you have a muffin to inhale?"

"Hm, I like the way you didn't answer my question."

"You just like making me uncomfortable." Q accused her with a frown. "Besides, I'm The Question, not The Answer. You can't expect me to have a reply for everything."

"But you find out answers by asking questions." The Italian-American pointed out.

"Yes, but without an answer a question can't exist. Every answer has a question and every question has an answer. Why is the sky blue? Why does one get cancer instead of someone else? Why does anything happen? Who knows."

"You just said there's always an answer!"

"Never said I knew it."

"You're giving me a migraine." She complained as she finished off the last few bites of her muffin. "I swear Q talking to you can be dangerous for people's sanity."

"Hurm."

Noting a pause in the conversation Helena decided to take it as an opportunity to take the first swig of her drink. She brought the cup up to her full lips and gently blew on it to cool it off. As amazing as these always tasted trying to slurp it down without waiting would do nothing but burn her tongue. Hardly the most painful thing she'd ever endured, but annoying nonetheless. Not to mention it would prevent her from successful being able to savor the delicious flavor.

When she finally deemed it cool enough to drink without harming her taste buds, Helena carefully poured the steaming drink into her mouth and smiled at the taste. Nothing on Earth was better than a good cup of coffee after a hard night of patrol. Well, there was sex, and the feeling of power that came with breaking bones, and when men stared at her the way they did she felt pretty damn great too, but good coffee was still high on the list of the great things in life.

Vic watched her with an amused look on his face as she sipped the drink again and let out a moan of appreciation. "Are you having an orgasm or a cup of coffee?"

"This stuff's good enough to be orgasmic." Helen grinned, shaking the cup in his direction. "You want a sip?"

"You mean put caffeinated sludge into my body? Think I'll pass."

"Don't be a stubborn ass." She chided, "Even if it is sludge it's sludge with caramel and a bit of chocolate all in one cup. Come on, I know you'll like it."

"Oh do you?"

"As a matter of fact I do."

He peered into the cup and frowned. "What is it?"

"It's called a French Kiss. I get them every time I come in here and nothing ever happens to me so they can't be that bad."

"Maybe something did happen and you never noticed."

"Just take a damn sip!"

"I don't-"

"Vic, come on." Helena pouted, widening her eyes and fixing her best puppy-dog eye plead. "For me?"

Pride filled her as the last of his resolve broke away and his face softened. "Fine." Q grumbled, reaching across the table for the cup. "Only for you. And if this gives me some sort of neurological bug-"

"Then I'll stomp it for you with my heel." Helena replied smoothly.

Vic decided not to tell her that her offer made absolutely no sense at all and simply stared at the beverage in his hand. He could practically feel it already seeping through his veins and travelling into his mind. It smelled pretty damn good, but that couldn't be anything more than a mask for the true evils it hid. He really didn't want to drink it.

"Come on, Vic." Helen prompted, "You promised."

Q sighed, mentally and physically braced himself for the latest assault on his body, and took a small sip. To his surprise it didn't taste half bad. Granted, a bit too sweet for his taste, but still pretty damn good. "Not bad."

Helena's face broke out into a beautiful, triumphant smile. "Ha, told you that you'd like it!"

"Congratulations, it seems you were correct."

"This is why you need to try new things and get out more." She told him in an all-to-motherly fashion. "You need to come here with me more so we can have ourselves a few more French Kisses."

The reason behind the expression on her friends face didn't make sense until Helena thought a little harder about what she had just said. Once the double meaning sunk in she felt her face pink (not that she knew why; she never blushed, ever) and immediately began to backtrack. "Not like that, I meant the drink, not actually us... Umm..." She quickly tore her gaze away from him and looked at the table in fascination.

Vic always thought himself to be a clever man, but at the moment a witty response escaped him. What did one do when a close, attractive female friend of theirs informed them they wanted to swap saliva? He knew that wasn't how she meant it, but even Q knew it came out a little more awkward than intended.

"Told you coffee was evil."

Helen broke out into laughter, this time the hint of color on her cheeks being from mirth instead of embarrassment. "Y-You're right. It-It was a bad thing to drink."

"Glad you finally agree. Now if you excuse me, I have to use the restroom."

"Going to go get the rest of it out of your system?"

"That's the plan." He nodded, getting up and walking towards the other side of the cafe where the men's room was located.

Helen glanced back at the half-filled cup of coffee and chuckled to herself. She liked making Vic uncomfortable, but when the tables were turned she could do without any awkwardness at all. It was funny keeping Vic on his toes, but annoying when he did it to her.

Or, even worse, when she did it to herself on accident.

Vic was certainly more fun to tease. She'd poked fun at Roger before, but it was never too entertaining. She liked the way Q acted when she talked about sex, how uptight and gruff he was. The man probably just needed to get laid and then he'd loosen up. But first she'd have to find him a girlfriend...

The moment the thought entered her head, Helena frowned. She wasn't too keen on Vic having some skank around him and acting all lovey-dovey in front of her. On the other hand, he had never been too interested in other women when she hung around him. Come to think of it, he never seemed to be too interested at anyone at all.

Weird.

"Are you with that guy who just left?"

The question startled her. "What?"

She looked up to see a woman standing next to the booth, her hands placed on her hips. The woman's face seemed to contort into defeat as she got a look at Helena. "Ugh, why?"

"Why what?" Helena asked, looking over the other female. She was reasonably attractive, but nothing to special with dull caramel-colored hair and light brown eyes. She could afford to drop a few pounds, but wasn't overweight. Healthy was a good word to describe it.

"Why is it every time I see a cute guy he's got a girlfriend?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your boyfriend over there." She scowled, "The one who went in the bathroom."

"Oh, you mean Vic?" Helen deduced, "He's not my boyfriend."

The brown-eyed woman rolled her eyes and looked at Helen skeptically. "Right, because I'm sure guys go out for coffee with their model friends at four in the morning all the time."

"He is not my boyfriend." The Italian argued. "We're just friends."

"...Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Then could you give him my number?" She asked hopefully, fishing around her leather purse for a pen and a scrap of paper. Helen watched, stunned, as she proceeded to jot down seven digits and handing it to her. "Tell him to call me."

"He...won't be interested." Helena blinked, still surprised. One thing for sure was there was no way in hell Q would be calling her. Who the hell hung out in cafes this late at night? The little slut was probably a prostitute.

"Please?"

Something tugged at the bottom of Helena's stomach when she thought of Vic and this woman together. Something unpleasant. This woman would date Vic over her dead body. She didn't know why it bugged her so much, but she knew she couldn't let it happen. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because...he's gay." Helena lied, mentally applauding herself on thinking of such a clever excuse. "He likes men, that's why we're just friends."

"Damn it! Isn't he just a little into woman?"

"Nope. Every time we go shopping I have to keep him from hitting on the male sales clerks." Another lie, but it was out of protection. This woman would go on a date with Vic, she would sleep with him, she would get him to trust her, and then she would break his heart. Q didn't take abandonment well (probably because he'd been ditched at an orphanage by his own parents when he was just a baby) and would be devastated. She was doing this to protect Vic.

So why did she feel like she had successfully marked her territory when the woman left?

After being unable to think of an answer Helen simply stared at the table silently. "You okay?" Asked Q as he re-entered the booth. "You look odd."

"Fine." Yet another lie. "Let's go, I need to get back to the kids."

"Alright." He agreed, standing up. "Would you like a ride home?"

"I think I'll walk." She replied quickly. Spending any more time with Vic seemed like a bad idea at the moment, though she still couldn't figure out why.

"It's really not a problem."

"I'd still rather walk."

"Okay." Vic sighed in defeat, bending down and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow night."

"See you." She murmured, watching him go and crossing her arms in front of her chest. She could still feel the light caress of his lips on her cheekbone, but she didn't want to dwell on it. Want being the operative word. The image stayed in her mind.

But, the same way Vic with another woman made her stomach churn, Helena couldn't figure out why.

A/N Read and Review please:)