Jesus Christ, what could he say to this man? There weren't any words that could make this right. Even as Dick found himself growing closer a few steps at a time, nothing was coming to him. What do you say…in the face of death? What do you say when the words 'I'm sorry' are rendered cheap and hollow? With the cave wall biting into the pads of his fingers, Dick forced himself to stop at the bottom of the stairs, wincing at the sound of Bruce's curses as he ripped off the cowl. Watching the man sweep everything from the surface of the bat-computer to the floor, the young man held his ground. What do you do…when your hero hits rock bottom?

There was something about watching this man bend under the weight of grief that made everything seem so surreal. Since when did Bruce Wayne's head become so heavy? Since when did he crumble? Where was that iron clad resolve? Glancing up to the top of the stairs Dick forced himself to take a breath. It was now or never.

"Bruce?" There was a second or two where he could almost believe the Bruce hadn't heard him. He seemed to lift his head out of hands long enough to pluck up a sticky note that was still clinging to counter. He could only hold his breath as the man pulled his gloves off to smooth the small paper with his bare fingers.

"What?!"

"They're here."

Saying nothing at all, Bruce yanked off the cape, seemingly unfazed by the broken test tubes and coffee cups at his feet. He only stopped to pick up a small velvet box from the ground. If Dick knew any better he was certain he could see something swimming in that man's gaze, tides of anguish and regret. Watching him toss the box into his chair so callously, Dick flattened himself along the wall as the man passed him without a glance. He could only try to keep up with him as he huffed up the stairs at that determined pace.

Reaching the soft glow of the world upstairs didn't slow Bruce down. He only seemed to glance up to the second floor as Jason's bedroom door slammed shut. But without comment he ripped the front door open, just as the headlights scraped along the house. Caught in the doorway, Dick kept his shadow still as it stretched out across the lawn, the faint light revealing Alfred's patient face as he peeled himself from the car. "I can take-"

"I've got it, Alfred." Watching Bruce pull open the car door, Dick was so unsure what he'd see in this weak light that was spilling out from behind him. He knew that somewhere in that backseat was the only piece of Paige that was still alive, he didn't expect her to come tumbling out, or that the weight of her little body could bring Batman to his knees.

He could still remember the weight of her head on his shoulder. Even now, it was like he could still feel that sticky little cheek pressing into his neck, he could still feel the involuntary twitch of her fingers as she made fists in her sleep…it was if she was still fighting.

With every step up the stairs he was sure he'd jar her awake, and yet by some miracle, the steady rise and fall of her rib cage never changed. "I wasn't able to grab any of her personal things I'm afraid…" Alfred Pennyworth knew how to be soft spoken when needed, but the thickness of his voice forced the man to pause right there on the stairs, cradling the living doll in his arms. There was a moment he thought opening his mouth would stir the child and yet, he found himself cradling her head as if carrying the child was nothing new to him. It was only the second time he could recall ever holding this girl in those last four years. Why did it have to make him realize he never wanted to let her go? This wasn't supposed to happen.He wanted to make a change in their lives, but this? This wasn't it.

Realizing Alfred was still waiting on a response, Bruce cleared away the sudden ache in his throat. "We'll make do." He uttered, pausing when the girl's breath hitched. Standing so still he realized he could smell the burn of gun powder and the overwhelming metallic odor of blood. Oh…her nightgown. It was all but stiff with her mother's blood. GCPD was going to want that for evidence. But they could have it after he cataloged it. "We just need her medication…" He said slowly. "And…her Batman."

"I'm sure the scripts could be called in, Sir." Alfred said with a tilt of his head. "As for her Batman, don't you think she has that right now?" Bruce didn't even bother to reply, he simply continued up the stairs with the old man's shadow in his wake.

Yes, yes she does. He wasn't sure why, but the moment he reached the landing, he found himself back inside that house, watching Paige pull their daughter to the floor under the flash of gunfire. Paige had done everything in her power to protect her, even in those last moments…now it was up to him to keep this child safe. Their child. Feeling Del's small fingers twitch back into tiny fists, Bruce couldn't help but squeeze the child tighter. You don't have to fight alone anymore, that I promise you.

"Any word?" Bruce wasn't sure what jarred him first, the fact that someone had actually ripped him from his thoughts or that Gisele Devereux was standing there in there before him with set of worried hazel eyes that looked all too familiar. Lifting his head from his hand, the man forced himself to sit up, dismissing the lingering memories with the shake of his head.

"No…nothing. She's still in surgery." Like him, the old woman was still garbed in her evening attire. She came straight here… Perhaps he and the old Dragon Lady had the same weaknesses. The old woman seemed only to sink down in a row of empty chairs across from him, muttering curses in French as if he couldn't hear her.

It was strange silence, had it not been for the hum of Gotham Memorial in the background, he might've gone mad. It wasn't like he and this women ever had much to say. Not that he and Paige's grandmother had ever been on good terms. "She's…become quite bold." The woman murmured suddenly. "I don't know how you managed to pull that off." Bold. Translation: Delilah gave the woman and earful and then some. If she wanted to hear an apology she wasn't about to get one.

"She is her mother's daughter. I can't take credit for that." Bruce stated, watching the woman slip in a nod as she wrung her wrinkled hands together. Paige had been the only grandchild with enough gall to push back when Gigi threw her weight around. Was the woman really that surprised that her great-granddaughter was no different? Looking at this woman now, this woman who was crumbled and slack faced in that pathetic blue chair with her gown and jewels, he almost thought he should take it easy on the old girl. They both smelled of smoke, even now. But as those double doors cracked open, the thought dissipated. Watching someone in blue scrubs slip out, Bruce found himself springing to his feet.

"Mr. Wayne…we have a problem." At that point he wasn't sure he was breathing anymore.

"Any word?"

"None yet, Miss. But with Elliot gone, they certainly seem to be struggling to keep her alive."

"Anything changes tell me immediately." Not even waiting for a response, Talia pulled her headset away, letting it fall across the keyboard as she stretched her arms to the ceiling like a satisfied cat. "Check, my beloved. Now it's your turn." Closing the lid of her laptop the woman let the glow of the city pull her from her chair. Oh, this pock on the world. How could he insist on protecting these ruthlessly oblivious people? Strange, why was it such strong men crawled from this hungry cesspool? Perhaps it was the perfect place to mold Damian into the Alexander he was meant to be.

Maybe it was sheer instinct that brought the fine hairs on her neck to attention, or maybe it was just pure skill that told her to beware. As the smooth sheet of glass under her hand splintered into a web of cracks, Talia hit the floor, feeling the wind of a bullet scrape her cheek. As the curtain of glass came down upon her, the woman could only duck, as the sound of shots finally reached her ears, bringing her own bursting through the doors like it was a call to arms. Only one person was this brazen. Jason. "Find him and bring him to me!"

But as the woman crawled back to her desk under the haze of gunfire, she found herself sinking into bloody pools and stumbling over bodies, even as she watched the ninja take the darkness under her command. "You little bastard." Feeling a round scrape across her arm, Talia reached blindly in her desk for her weapon, even as the room grew eerily silent with only the sound of blood gurgling in the back of the throats of the fallen.

"Looking for this?" Feeling the barrel of her own gun press into her temple, she cursed listening to the hammer cock back. As the young man's shadow blocked out the moonlight, she had no choice but to think of her next option. But as the woman made a grab for the sword under her desk, she felt his fingers gripping into her hair, yanking her across the glass littered floor. Only when he dragged her to the middle of the room did he release her, wagging his gloved finger at her like he was chiding a naughty child. "You and I need to have a serious discussion." He said quietly as he pressed his boot into the body in front of her.

"You've grown bold, Jason." She said evenly, watching him lift that mask from his face. Even in this light she could see the soft white hairs that the Lazarus pit had left behind. Maybe father was right, maybe she'd created a monster. Reaching up to her hair, she could see his dark blue eyes watching her, oh he knew she wasn't unarmed even as she sat here in her robe with a bunch of dead bodies surrounding her. "Perhaps too bold!" She cried, slashing at him the second she let her fingers skim behind her back for the largest shard of glass she could find. But even as the blood started to roll down his throat, the man only jumped to his feet, twisting her wrist as he forced her to the floor with his foot.

"You have a lot to answer for." He breathed, feeling her chest rise under his boot. Her other hand was pinned beneath her own back, but if she got it free, it would certainly mean trouble. "Why did you send him?! Why him Talia?!"

Even as she was pinned to the floor, he could see that devious smile brightening her shadowed face. "Oh? So you did notice? He had a purpose to serve and he served it well." With the words came the weight of his foot. And somehow, even though he could feel her ribs sinking under the sole of his boot, the woman tilted her head back and laughed, letting the glass in her hand slip to the floor. "Surprised Little Bird? I mean to clear the way, and you were taking too long." She said with a sniff as the man's sneer twisted. Oh, now what did that mean? Slowly working her hand out from under the weight of her own body the woman swung for his face, satisfied to feel the glass shards in her hands to catch into his cheek. "Why have you taken so long?!" She snapped, stealing the chance to knock him off balance.

The second he rolled to get out of the close range she sprang to her feet. "Why are you here? What are you upset about Jason? Was it the clown?" She asked, sweeping the glass off her robe, despite the little rivulets of blood she could feel running down her legs. "Or maybe it's not the clown at all." She teased, watching him aim his gun for her. "It is her…isn't it?" Now she was laughing again. "You care for her! You care for the twit!"

"I should be the only one to kill her."

"Jason…Jason…Jason." Even under her chiding he didn't seem to flinch, he merely rose to his feet. "Who are you trying to-"

"Me and no one else!" As his voice rose, over the din of the city that was now leaking in, the woman sighed. "It's personal" He added, closing the space between them with the sound of glass breaking under his weight. In this light that fire in his eyes only seemed to burn brighter.

"You never play with your prey like this."

"Oh? And you don't?" He asked, grabbing the woman by the chin. "You're not toying with Bruce?"

"And what are you trying to prove my little bird?" When he didn't answer the woman felt her lips twist. "You're so full of vengeance. Are you willing to rip her heart out when the time comes?" Watching his long shadow nod, she took the gun out of his hand, letting the rounds spill at her feet.

"Go then. If the ninny survives I'll leave her demise in your hands."

"And only me, or else it won't mean anything."

"Yes. Now go." She snapped, paying no attention to his shadow as it skimmed across the walls. "Jason, the time will come. If you can't do as you're commanded you'll die right along with her." Feeling nothing at her back but the wind Talia frowned at the sea of glass and blood. "He always makes a mess." Stepping over the bodies in her way the woman paused at the broken window, feeling the night air numb the cuts along her skin. Soon, Beloved. So very soon. The man would be in her hands long before he knew what happened.

You idiot, she knows now! She knows they can't control you. Fuck it. He could fake it right? With each rooftop carrying him further and further away, it wasn't long before he found himself staring up at the pale white structure that stuck out from the darkness like a sore thumb. Gotham Memorial. Why the hell was he here? If he was smart he'd stay the hell away from here. Away from her. And yet his heavy legs would only let him move in one direction. Is this the price you're willing to pay? "Awe, fuck you, Dick, stay out of my head." But you didn't even think about her…all you wanted was to feed the monster. Jesus, did she have to be in his head too? Was nothing sacred?

He couldn't even remember making it through the halls, dodging the employees in scrubs and long white coats. What are you doing? "I just…I just have to make sure…" Well it's not like they're gonna put the name on the door for you, it's too high profile, you fuck-tard.

"I'm just going to run and grab a few things for Miss Wayne. I should be back shortly." Hearing Alfred's voice echo through the halls, Jason pulled himself into the shadow of a small cove of closets as he watched the man pull a couple officers aside. Bruce actually trusted those GCPD slime balls? Or was the man that fucking desperate? Watching Alfred disappear into the elevator bay down the hall, he counted his breathes, watching the officers slowly come complacent as they lulled against the wall or sank into a nearby chair. He wasn't even sure what his hand was lifting for until the fire alarm screeched out, sending the entire hall into disarray and that included getting thing one and thing two off their asses.

No sooner had they scurried down the hall did Jason dart for the door. He couldn't even remember breathing as he slid into that room. But one look at that silhouette in the light of the cityscape, and the air came slithering out of him. Closing the gap without so much as a sound, he could only feel his gut falling to his feet. Why'd she look so pale and fragile now with all these IV's attached to her like webbing? Even as he scanned the bags on the pole, he could feel his mouth running dry. Blood. Had she lost that much? I can't even remember her being shot…damn it. Pressing in closer, he could only half smile at the object that was choking in the crook of her slender arm. "A little old for a Batman Doll aren't you?"

He wasn't sure why but his fingers were reaching out on their own accord, sweeping back the fine strands of her hair that had tangled over her face. "I'm sorry…I should've been there for you." He whispered, the voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. "I couldn't let it go. I couldn't…let him go. Not even for you." Cupping her cool cheek in his hand, he leaned over the rail of the bed. Even as he pressed his forehead against hers, even though he could feel the sweep of her exhales on his own face…all he could feel was bitterness. Why did just being near her make him feel like he still had the chance to make it right again?

Every part of him ached to react the moment that long lanky shadow slithered closer to Del's bed, and yet his curiosity kept him still. Wait and see. He told himself, letting his own breath slip out of him without a sound as Jason's form pressed over the railing of the bed. Wait. Watching his shadow all but meld into hers, he could feel the tips of his fingers began to itch. "I'm…" Watching him lift his hand, the man couldn't help but feel his adrenaline spike, but Jason's hands were empty. "…sorry." When, when could he express such tenderness? "Fuck, I'm always apologizing to you aren't I?" He asked, brushing the hair from the girl's face. The moment that man's lips touched her skin, all rational thinking fizzled into nothingness. He was done waiting.

Jason didn't hear him coming, but the second he felt his body slam face first into that cinderblock wall, he knew it was too late. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Bruce. Maybe a part of him should have seen this coming, maybe it wasn't that surprising. Did you really think he'd leave her unguarded? Feeling the blood trickling down his face, Jason worked his had free, ready to plant his elbow into the man's ribs, but no sooner had he taken his shot did he feel that bone catch in the man's hand. In the next breath the word was shifting. He was staring up at that paralyzing gaze from the flat of his back. "That's my daughter, Jason." But even as the man hissed his warning Jason could only peel himself from the floor, trying not to let the man know that he definitely had his bell rung.

"And?"

"She's fifteen years old!"

"Sixteen, Daddy-Bats" Oooh, you mad? Good. Be mad. Well, this wasn't how he expected his long awaited meeting to go. But even as Bruce made fists in the collar of his coat, Jason couldn't quite dispel the smirk on his face. "Nice to see you too."

"What are you up to Jason?"

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. You'd kill me." Jason gave a shrug as the man's jaw tightened. "Oh, well…you'd threaten to kill me at least." Now the man ripped him off the floor, despite how much he weighed, Bruce could still manage to lift him. Huh, the old man still had some umph to him.

"You're right, I wouldn't kill you." He said evenly. "I'd just make you wish I would."

"Now where was that resolve all those years ago? How come you couldn't go after him like that? Or does only blood matter to you that much? How come you don't make him wish for death?"

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand all right-" But the words stuck there as the door began to slide open shedding light into the darkness. No sooner had Bruce turned his head, did Jason put a closed fist into the man's chest, staggering him just enough to make a go for the window just as the silhouettes in the hall began to take shape.

"Leave her alone, Jason."

"I can't do that. The stakes are too high." Without another word he leapt from the window, feeling the man's disappointed scowl burning at his back.

This room. This place. Something's wrong. But as the girl pulled herself from the floor she found herself so unsure of the echo of laughter that rang in her ears. All these people, couldn't they tell? Couldn't they feel that something was wrong? But they just continued, laughing and carrying on in their own oblivious world of glitz, glam and champagne. But even as the chorus of merriment carried on, she could feel the dryness of smoke scraping the back of her throat. Smoke? Fire! The foyer was filling with it, squeezing on her lungs until the coughing started. "We have to get out!" They're not even looking at me. The clouds only seemed to grow, and no matter whose arm she pulled on, or who she begged, they didn't so much as move. "Why won't you try to save yourselves?!" Nothing. They just continued to sip on their champagne and grin as the flames grew higher.

"Del?" for just a moment there was a prick of relief, as she spun on her heel toward that familiar voice.

"Dad! Dad we have to-" Wait…there's blood on his shirt.

"Del, what have you done?" What was this? What was this heavy weight in her hands? Looking down at the gun in her hands, the girl could feel the bile inching up her throat. Get away, hurry, something isn't right. In the rush to get away she fell, landing hard on the blood soaked floor as she tripped over the body behind her. Dr. Elliot! Oh, God I- The gun slipped from her fingers as she scrambled backwards on her hands to put some space between them. "Dad I-" Glancing up, she could see the people tilting their heads back to drain their glasses, and yet as the blood started to pour out from their eyes, Del could only feel that scream building in her chest. No!

"You don't know how to save them do you?" At the sound of that strange sound mixing with her father's voice Delilah paused, aware of the bodies that were falling down around them. "I have a secret for you, Toots." Toots? Oh, No. no, no. Watching him dig his fingers into his face, Del could only feel herself growing cold with the dread as her father's face peeled away as if it were nothing more than a mask.

"You can't save them." It was like the clown had taken his body over. And yet, as he lifted that glass of champagne to his wide red lips, she could only grasp at the air.

"NO! Don't!" No sooner had he tilted his head back for a laugh, did that laugh turn into the sound of gurgling blood, letting the body become whole once more. "DAD!" He fell to the ground in a pool of red just like the rest of them. You can't save them. You can't even save yourself.

"Del! Del, stop it!" Oh, God, I can't breathe. I can't breathe! And yet she found herself being crushed further and further with every gasp that seemed to flee from her on its own accord. "It's just a dream….It's just a dream."

Six were found dead in their Gotham home tonight, and while police have yet to give any word on the cause, it's believed to be that the product tampering has stretched even further than the Zesti Cola scare. The source? Champagne…

In the painfully bright glow of the television, Del found herself mashed into her father's chest in a tangle of tubes and sweat soaked hair. But even as she dug her nails into the soft fabric of his t-shirt that smelled of fire and blood all the girl could hear was the shrill beep of the heart monitor. The ache in her chest only seemed to burn as her father's weight sank down on the edge of her bed, peeling her face from his shirt with careful hands. "One….two…"

"Three…four…" The words felt so dry coming out of her mouth, and yet, with her face trapped between her father's palms, she forced herself to make it to ten, filling her lungs until she was sure they'd burst, but at least the monitor wasn't in a panic anymore. With the force of her father's hand, Del let herself flop back against the stiff pillows, cursing as she tangled herself in the maze of tubes that were stretching out above her head.

"Easy, just relax." Watching her father's arm stretch out to untangle her mess, Delilah could only reach out to the brightly colored tourniquet that was wrapped around his arm. The moment her fingers wrapped around the spot as far as they could go, he paused.

"You…" Ah, that explained the warm red tubes she could feel traveling down her arm.

"They were having a shortage and you were losing blood faster than they could put it in." He said, waiting for her fingers to fall from that tender spot. "Scared the hell out of me, Kid." He added, watching her face grow paler with each painful breath. Was it disbelief or bewilderment he saw on her face? I'd do anything for you, don't you know that? "Your left lung and liver lobe are smaller than they used to be, but you'll live."

"Is everyone…did-did everyone…"

"Everyone got out in time. There were a few suffering from smoke inhalation, and the girl with the acid burns…but everyone's going to be fine."

"Everyone but…Doc." As her words croaked out of her, she could feel her father's fingers growing still on her hairline. "Dad…Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." What was she apologizing for more? The fact that her father had just lost one of his childhood friends? Or the fact she felt relief when she realized the bullet had torn through someone other than him? "If-if I hadn't-"

"No. Not another word. Don't let him destroy you like that." Like he destroyed you? Peering up at the shadows in his face, Del felt the words stall in her throat. How long had he been sitting there? As he eased himself back into his chair, she could see the shape of his dress shirt and coat hanging off the back. Jesus, he hasn't even been able to change his clothes yet.

Forcing a sigh, the girl sank into the foreign feel of the hospital bed, blinking against the halo of the nightly broadcast. First Zesti Cola…now champagne? "Weren't we…serving the same champagne at the party?" She croaked, feeling her father's fingers go still in the tangle of her hair.

Her father only scanned the screen for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. "We never got to that point." He said, as he fished his phone from his pocket. "And that's probably a good thing." He added as he slipped out into the hall. "Dick, I have something else I need you to grab…"

She wasn't sure when she lost sound of her father's voice or when the weight of her eyelids became too heavy to bear or even what pulled her from her dreamless sleep. But as the girl pried her eyes open to a room that had turned to the color of a flame, she found nothing but an orchestra of soft snores. Jax, she realized was curled in the crook of her knees. Her father was still in that chair, but at least he'd stolen a few minutes to shower and change his clothes. Dick had himself propped against the wall with his long spindly legs stretched the floor. But as Del focused her eyes she found a small silhouette pressed along the window pane. She could see the boy pressing his hands into his back as he stood there silently judging the sunlight that was breaking over the cityscape. What weight was pressing on his shoulders now?

It took her a moment to untangle herself from the twisted sheets and snarled tubes. Even as she worked her feet over the bed, the floor came fast. For the briefest of moments the ache in her chest was completely forgotten when she stumbled to the floor, afraid that the sound of her body hitting the tile could wake hundreds. Okay, maybe not hundreds, just Dick. She was still gnawing on that unbidden curse when she realized he'd grabbed her by the arms. "Don't." She snapped, shrugging away from him. "I can get up on my own." He always rushes in to save me, they all do. Under Damian's curious gaze and the looming of Dick's massive shadow, Del worked herself back to her feet, gripping to the IV stand to pull herself up. You can't even save yourself.

"You need to get back in bed." Dick stated trying to clear his throat as Del wobbled to her feet, gripping the front of her hospital gown as if she were trying to hold her chest together. "Or…you can be a stubborn ass and ignore me completely." He muttered watching her stagger to the window. "Stubborn ass it is."

Spying a file laying at the boy's feet, the girl slid into a crouch, trying not to think about the masses that were building up on the streets below. Peeling the folder open, Del could feel the bile rushing up her throat as she stared at the blank faced child in her bloodied nightgown holding out her torn hands for the officers to see. It's…me. "Are you still going to Arkham?" Damian asked suddenly, not even glancing at her.

Del could only shut the folder and pull herself up. Why the hell are you pulling my files? But the words never came out, she just nodded her head. "What aren't you telling me?" She asked at last, tossing the folder to the floor. Even in the reflection of the window she could see Dick squeezing the back of his neck. Her father had pulled his heavy head from his hand and was staring intently at their backs with that same hard gaze that the little girl in the photographs had on her own face.

"One of the ballerinas was branded with the nine circles last night during the commotion."

"Is Sissy safe?" She asked twisting away from the melting sunrise. Strange, such things always brought her peace and yet all she could fee was bitterness as standing there in its warmth.

"She and her aunt should have landed in Metropolis an hour ago." Dick said, jamming his hands into the worn pockets of his jeans. But that didn't stop the girl's movements as she went straight for the duffel bag that Alfred had left sitting on a chair.

"That doesn't mean they're not following her."

"Del, what are you doing?"

"Getting dressed. I want to get the hell out of here." Dick could feel his shoulders sliding as the girl yanked a set of clothes from the bag. She could hardly catch her breath.

"You just had a part of your lung and liver removed!" Why was Bruce just sitting there? Why the hell was he just staring at her like that? "Bruce. Bruce, c'mon you gotta tell her." But as the words reached the girl's ears she went s till as stone. Finally, maybe this madness would stop.

"Tell me...what?" She whispered, remembering that she was still pulling her boots free. But as the girl continued to struggle to rip them loose of the bag, he felt her father's hands stilling her own.

"Del…stop." The words were so soft. Soft enough to prick her with worry. "Just stop."

"Let go, Dad." And yet the man did no such thing. He simply picked up the bag and flung it to the floor. "Dad! What the-" No sooner had she turned to retrieve it, did she find herself trapped in his grip with nowhere to go.

"I'm wasting time!"

"Damian. Out." Wait…what? Why are you sending Damian out? But the girl couldn't see the boy's face, not when her own face was all but mashed into their father's chest. "Now, Damian." What's going on? "Take Jax for a walk or something." Listening to dog's tags clink together as he slid from the bed she knew the boy was heading for the door.

"Dad…this kind of hurts." She groaned into his shirt, feeling his weight pressing on the sutures beneath her hospital gown. Her father simply let his arms slide to his side.

"You can't do this anymore. You're done."

"Huh?"

"Remember the deal?" he asked, tilting her head up at him. "If something happens, you'll stop? Your words right?"

Wait! No! No way! "It was just a-" But he was shaking his head at her.

"It's not about last night." Now he looked away, glancing up at the ceiling as if he could've been asking for divine intervention or something. "After your surgery, I had them run some scans on your heart." I'm not going to like this; I can see it in your face. "They found scarring of a heart attack."

"What? B-but…I-I never-"

"They said it's possible you weren't even aware that it was happening."

"L-last night?! Or-"

"No. They think it was a couple months old."

"The night you had to pull Damian up the ledge…" Dick said suddenly, reminding her he was still in the room. "We thought then that…" That's why. That's why they wanted him out of the room.

"But it was a couple months ago! I feel fine!" She cried, wincing as the words rubbed her throat raw. "Okay, I feel like I was shot, but other than that-"

"Delilah."

"No. Don't ask me to quit, don't do that." She managed, wringing herself out of his arms.

"Then you're-"

"You can't fire me either!" She spat. "It doesn't work like that! Not for me!" Stepping back before he could reach for her she swiped her things off the floor and darted into the bathroom, more than aware she had shut the door in someone's face.

Jesus, Paige what am I supposed to do? I can't let her do this anymore. She'll die if she keeps going on like this. I can't lose her too. Pressing against the doorjamb, he could see Dick's body collapsing with a sigh. "Well…that went well." Bruce could do nothing but let his head loll against the wall as he listened to his daughter's smothered curses under the shrill ring of Dick's phone. "And that would be Tim—what'cha got for us, Timmy."

"Nothing good."

At that Bruce pried himself from the wall and closer to the phone.

"They came back positive. We were damn lucky we never made it to the toasting. But I've got more bad news guys. There were a couple bottles missing from the case."

"Shit."

"There haven't been any new developments, so whoever took them hasn't opened them yet." Bruce managed, listening to the door unlatch behind him.

"Try cross referencing any fingerprints that shouldn't be on the case with the guest list. My guess is it's someone young and dumb…so it's probably a classmate."

"Will do."

Even as he could hear Dick hanging up the phone, Bruce could see his daughter collecting her coat, still dead set on leaving this godforsaken place not that he could blame her. "If you're right and it's a teenager…why wouldn't you open it right away?"

At Dick's words the girl paused, blowing out a steady breath as she eyed the floating tiles in the ceiling. "Because…I'm saving it for later. For a party or a get-together or whatever reason kids my school need to get drunk." She said, turning only to retrieve the stuffed Batman from her bed. "All you need to know is who's have the party and where." With the pair of them looking at her so expectantly she let her hands slap to her sides. "I can't quit!"

"Tim goes to the same school, Del."

"Yes…but no one has the balls to tell me no. Me being there makes them look good even if they hate me. "

"No."

"You're my father, you don't count." She grumbled shaking Batman at him. "Face it, Dad. You guys need me."

I wish we didn't. I wish I didn't have to risk so much on a single bet. Don't you know what you're worth to me? "I want you seeing the cardiologist every two weeks until they can give us some definite answers." He could see her mouth falling open. "Fine, weekly it is then."

"Fine."

"And the training…"

"Which I need—"

"From now on, you train with me unless I state otherwise." No more training with Damian? Even Dick seemed to jolt at that.

"Boss—"

"Quiet." The man snapped, but he never so much as lifted his eyes from the sullen teenager across from him. "You're on light duty until further notice. I want you to recover. Is that clear?"

But to his chagrin, the girl merely picked up the bag and swung it over her shoulder before reaching for the door. Only then did the ridiculous thing peer at them from over her shoulder. "Yes, Sir. Now can we go?"

"She's your daughter." Bruce could only listen to the large charms on her boots clinking and clanking together as she all but blazed a trail for the lobby with that boy and the dog walking beside her.

"Yes she is. Stubborn as Hell too… just like her mother."

"Yeah…her mother. Sure, Bruce. Whatever you say."

"You're not going to stop are you?" Damian inquired, not taking his eyes off the masses in monkey suits as they drew closer and closer to the doors. He could feel his sister's sidelong glance, but she didn't slow down. Yes, I heard every word.

"No. I'll stop when I'm dead."

"Sounds like you could drop dead any minute." The boy said with a smirk.

"Then I guess I can't waste any more time. I have to see this through." First Arkham. Then a train ride to Metropolis.

For a long moment the boy could only glance at her, unsure of whom this creature was beside him. Watching her produce her phone from her pocket he watched her make a quick text before letting the device slide back into the coat. Damian immediately reached for it, certain his sister would make a grab for it, but she did no such thing.

Up for a field trip? Train ride. Metropolis.

When?

As soon as I get back from Arkham.

I'm in.

"You really think they'll follow her?" He asked, letting the phone slip right back into her pocket.

"I've got a feeling." She muttered. "I need you to keep an eye on the other girl. Something's telling me that they're not done."

"Arkham. I'm going with you." The boy said suddenly, cutting his hard green eyes at her. "I want to see this St. James for myself." He half expected her to object, but she simply rolled her shoulders.

"A little good cop-bad cop might be fun."

"It's only fun if I get to be the bad cop." He couldn't explain that smirk that rolled across her face as she hit the door, letting the press fly forward with their questions and cameras. Nothing was going to stop her now. Not clowns, bullets or blood soaked memories. Huh, there might be hope for her yet. If she didn't just up and die on him.

"Not even a full eighteen hours and you're up giving statements?" Jason could only lift his coffee cup to his lips, watching the girl come right out guns blazing. Well, so to speak. Even from here on the street he could see Bruce's still slack face. The old man wasn't sure what to do now that there was a fire under her ass. She could set Gotham ablaze with a fire like that. Oh, wouldn't that be interesting? But as he stood there across the street, watching the Waynes control the chaos around them, Jason became aware of someone standing next to him. Bird. Just what the fuck is he doing here? But the man only shook his head making his blonde ponytail swing like a pendulum.

"That kid's got her guardian angel working overtime."

Watching the man continue down the street without another glance, Jason merely returned to his coffee cup. You have no idea…

A/N: Okay, so everything I wanted to cover here...didn't exactly get covered. Bruce and Del are definitely going to have one hell of an awkward conversation. I'm sure she'll thank Jason for that later. So, anyone curious to see what happens when Tim and Jason run into each other?