Tu es tout pour moi. You are my everything.

What a beautiful and terrifying burden to be. Humans are comprised of so much it's surprising the weight doesn't crush them into the earth. Monsters are no different. After all, aren't we carved from these same things?

I was everything once-everything to two very different people. One was a man of conscience and heart. The other was an ambitious creature that was anything but human. And I loved them. One more than the other these days, but the attachment lingers, living and breathing in the darkest parts of me. It'll only die when I do, I suppose.

I'll just have to grit my teeth and suffer through.

It's the suffering that keeps this old body awake and slithering through the halls. It's the kind of hour that calls me to plot at Felix's old desk, plucking away at those ebony statutes as if those chess pieces could help me pick apart Ra's very thoughts. We've played this game for years now. A tit for tat—you hurt me and I hurt you.

But he's not the only teacher I've had.

I wince at the window as creaks, but oh my lungs, they welcome the air. It's laced with salt and smoke, and for one glorious second, I'm back to where it started. I'm back to the winding call of cicada and the chest crushing humidity of the bayou. I can still feel the weight of the blowpipe in my hands. My ears still remember the feel of Felix's breath.

I thought there was nothing a soft spoken man from Louisiana could teach me. I was wrong.

He showed me compassion. He showed me honesty. He gave me the greatest thing I've ever been granted in this life and showed me just how far a man will go to protect what matters. And for that matter, just how well the swamp can keep your secrets. He even taught this dragon how to breathe fire.

The pawn feels like a lead weight in my palm. We've taken our blows, but his turn isn't over. Not by a long shot. Ra's doesn't know how to play fair.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Alexandre. The grumbling outside the door brings me back to the office, and to a house that's rudely been awoken by a pounding on the door. It's enough to pull a dragon out of her lair.

Nothing good ever comes from the darkness. My family knows this all too well. There's not a single light on in the place. But the house is awake and waiting. Giving Alexandre a nod, he yanks open the door, his broad shoulders slumping as he lets out an annoyed breath. He steps to the side, enough to let me see the lanky teenager that's standing on our porch.

"Somebody better be dying. Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's really late—"

"Try early."

"I need to see the Dragon—" The normal sort doesn't call me by the name. Alex knows that. It's enough to have him blocking the doorway completely, his ear to the air as he listens to the telltale click of the back door. Remi. It's about time for his second cup of coffee. "You've got three seconds to get your ass off this porch—

"Look, I need to see her or Beau! Please! I just need someone to hear me out—"

"Woah, what's going on in here?"

"You know this kid?" Alex asks, lowering the rifle in his grip. "Yeah, yeah—put that away, you won't need that." Remi huffs, peeling Alex away to let the boy inside.

"Hey, isn't this the little shit that's dating Delilah?"

"On second thought, keep it handy."

The boy doesn't find my sons very amusing. He's soaked through and pale, muscles slumping in a pose of someone who's been awake for far too long. At first glance, he's willowy. Weak at best. But those dark eyes find me and hold tight. He won't be backing down anytime soon, exhausted or otherwise. Ah, appearances are never what they seem.

"And what is it you want Timothy Drake?" There's that ripple of muscle. "I know who you are," I say, waving our onlookers back into their rooms from my spot on the landing.

"Delilah might be in serious trouble."

"Trouble? With who—" Remi's not asking what kind of trouble she's in. He's asking with whom. It's almost as if he has a particular entity in mind. My little dragon has been playing with fire without me.

"And why should you care?"

"Mama…" Alexandre sighs, rolling those pale green eyes to the ceiling. Maybe they think their dear old mother is being dramatic, but I have to know.

"Let the boy answer."

Timothy's eyes flee from mine. Even in this light, I can see his lip twisting as if he's holding back the words. His eyes are on his hands, fingers flexing over something I can't see. "She's…all I've got." He manages, arms falling as he looks up. "She's everything. Maybe not to you…but she is to me."

With a clench of my fist, I realize I'd forgotten about the pawn. It's his doing and I know it. I feel it. But he's never made a move against my own flesh and blood before. He's put me in check. But now it's my turn.

Ra's was my everything once. Now he's just everything I want to burn.

I don't know these people—these creatures. That much is as clear as the palpable tension I can feel crushing into my bones. I'm an outsider. A trespasser. I'm not welcome. But I have information and to that end I'm useful.

I don't know where I'm being lead, but I follow. If I trail after them long enough they might just lead me to her. They'll use me and I'll use them. "Oh, he'll pay for this one." Gisele, I notice, doesn't quite move like any ninety-something I've ever met. She's light footed and quick, and she shoves doors open like any pissed off sixty-year old might. But I'm not here to contemplate how or why the Devereux's appear so youthful.

"Mama, calm down."

"Like Hell!" With those words, the old dragon ripped the doors off all her secrets or at least the kind that could be kept in an armoire. "Where, Boy?"

Letting my eyes adjust to the lamp light, I could see her fingers trailing over rolled scrolls of paper. With the feel of silver charms digging into my palm, I moved closer. Maps. "We tracked them to North Africa—"

"Libya." It's not a question. In one fell swoop, the floor is glittering with glass and a weathered map has all but swallowed the desk whole. "Début et fin. So be it." Beginning and end. I don't know what the dragon means but it's enough to bring her sons forward—rolled eyes and sighs forgotten.

"All this…all of this bullshit. Letting out Paige's murderers—the-the tampered bottles—the venom. All this shit was nothing more than a cheap shot. And now one of the kids is mixed up in this?!"

"It's more than that." Beau rasped, leaving his brother rubbing his face. "He's trying to hit two birds with one stone."

"You mean Wayne? " With that Gisele gave a hiss. "That cur. How did he even—"

"Tim, if you don't tell them…I will."

The second that piercing gaze lifted from the map, I was trapped. "Tell me what?" Nothing was coming out. I couldn't just…

"Wayne's the Bat." Blurt it out.

Those eyes went wide. "Ra's knows this?"

"Yeah," I croaked at last, words still uncertain now that Beau Devereaux just threw Bruce's secret to the dragon like a sacrificial offering. "Mentor and pupil aren't on good terms, haven't been for years."

"Wait a second!" Alex cried. "Are you telling us that P's kid is Gotham City's Batgirl?! Damn it! I told you we should've fought harder for custody!" The oldest spat turning his attention from his mother to the man beside him. "And you, little brother, how do you know this?!"

Beau didn't look at his brother but instead kept his eyes on the woman in front of them. "Clara had a tracking device with her- the rest wasn't hard to figure out."

I half expected the dragon to roar and snap, but the woman just closed her eyes and let her chest collapse. "It explains so much…"

"So, what do we do?" Alex huffed, ramming his hands into his pockets as if to keep them still.

"We go get her. Remi, you can still fly can't you?"

"Yeah—wait a minute-we?! Mama, you can't be serious!"

"You're 97 years old, in case you forgot! We can handle it!"

Her children may have been snarling and growling but Gisele simply turned to the armoire, weathered hands pulling out the nastiest looking spears I've ever seen. It was enough to quell the objections.

"Shit, she's gonna get her way."

"She always does," Beau muttered. "Tim don't—"

"I wouldn't touch those Boy," Gisele told me, not even bothering to look back as I squatted down to inspect the spears she'd unearthed. I kept my fingers the shaft, avoiding the rows of backward barbs. "They're poisonous."

"Looks like snake teeth…" Glass.

"Jesus, you'd have to push them in further just to get them out," Alex said, giving a low whistle as his shadow fell across the desk. "How's that going to help? Ra's has the Lazarus pit. He'll just keep reviving himself."

"I'm counting on it." The dragon whispered. "First, he'll have to push it in further to get it back out." She said twisting about to rip a fist full of documents out the desk. But as frantic as the woman was, she paused. "And then he'll use those damn pits and seal the poison inside."

"What sadistic individual made these?" Beau muttered, taking the shaft from my fingers.

"Your father."

Silence, and then. "Alexandre…you still have that C4?"

"Aw, I thought you'd never ask." The man said, giving a cat like grin. "It's not all I have. With Mama's permission…of course."

"Lay waste. He went too far."

"Like he did with Paige?" Beau asked suddenly, setting the spear back on the desk with a crack. "C'mon, Mama, why else would he set those things free? Why choose Gillespie to infiltrate our factories? He knew! He knew what you were up to!"

"Remi…"

"You know it, I know it, Alexandre knows it—we all know it. He's no friend of yours. He never was!" Beau snapped, rubbing his hands over his mouth when his own words finally sank in. "Excuse me, I have to warn Marcella. She should've reached the New Orleans facility by now."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I've always told you that…haven't I?"

"Close enough to suffocate I hope." He said, reaching for the door. "I'll meet you at the airport. I'll need coordinates. Alex, you might want to start getting that stash of yours travel ready."

"Hey, I'm the oldest. Who said you could be so bossy?" But Alexandre shrugged as Beau slid out of the room without another word. "You know how he feels, Mama. How we all feel."

"I know, Bébé. I'm trying."

A soft click of the door and I was trapped with the Dame de Dragon.

"Alright little bird, show me where you lost them."

"First, you tell me what Del's mother was doing for you."

"And who are you to make demands of me?"

"Secret for a secret. Besides, you're not the only dragon in the room." Or my name wasn't Drake. The dragon was used to getting her way. Well, so was I, and I wanted Del.

It's coming down, all of it. Makes me sick. And with my head hitting the roof of Barb's car—I've got a headache.

"Seat belt!"

"No, you think?!" I hiss, letting my hand drop from my head for the 'holy shit' handle while I fish for the belt buckle. Everything in Barb's car is rattling and rolling around as her SUV grabs air over the next hill. "Got a lead hand or what?" I breathe as she fish tails it through the red light and around the oncoming traffic, leaving a few spun out cars and a blare of horns behind us.

"What can I say? They're touchy."

I didn't think it was possible for her to be a crazier driver, but what can I say? My sister always was Hell on wheels. My sister…that's still so weird. Glancing at her all I can see is our likenesses-now more than ever. The proof had been right there all along, hiding in plain sight.

I always did wonder why her name was Barbra. It was always kinda bizarre that she and her mom had the same name. Only…she wasn't named for her mother. She was named for her aunt. Mom and Aunt Barbra used to be thick as thieves…used to be.

It's fucked up, I mean, I know Barb used to beat herself up over her mom. Why wasn't she good enough? What had she done to make her mother stop loving her?

If that doesn't make a person sick, the amount of money that was poured into therapy and councilors would.

"So here's the issue," She huffs, cursing under her breath as she lays on the horn. "We can make the base of the antivenom—but it won't be complete."

"How?!" isn't all the research there?!"

"No, that's not it. It needs the proper enzymes. We've made the right venom, now we have to make the antivenom—"

"Diluting it and putting it in another animal—shit, to Del's mom that would've been a common step. I wasn't even thinking about that. How long does that take? Do we even have that kind of time?" I asked, feeling ball off gook roll up my throat as the station came into view.

"No." She said, tires squealing as the vehicle slid up to the curb. I think it was enough to make an officer drop his Danish on the sidewalk. "But I have an idea. We need Delilah back here ASAP." Barb said, throwing her door open. "She may have the antivenom."

"You think she has it with her already?"

"If I'm right, she is the antivenom."

"What?! How do you figure?" I cried, jogging after her, slipping right into the chaos of the GCPD. I'm not going to lie, we blew right through Uncle Jim's secretary, we left her holding the phone and yelling at us from down the hall.

"The needle that Gillespie used. It didn't puncture her, but she was cut by it, remember? All it takes is an open sore—and the way her heart is—

"It should've dropped her like a rock."

"Or at least made for a very bad day with that amount, but it didn't, did it? I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts she has some kind of immunity. Maybe not a strong one, but enough to jump start us." Finding Uncle Jim's office empty, Barb's cheeks filled with air. If Mom and Uncle Jim weren't in there that only left one place. I wanted to vomit.

When the interrogation room windows came into view, I was running.

"Sam! Wait!" But I'd already shoved my way around the suits that were milling about the door. Please

no. Please, Please, please. But as I burst through the door, the only thing that was holding me upright was the door knob. I never thought the ratcheting sound of handcuffs could be so loud.

"SAM?! Get her out of here! Get her out!" Mom cried, mascara and dried tears marring her pale face. Before I knew it, Uncle Jim was shoving me out the door, just as my mother collapsed at the table.

"Wh-what the hell?!" I didn't think the words would come out so raw, but I guess I already knew.

"Daddy, what's going on? Is she okay?"

"Sam…she's-"

"You have the right to remain silent—"

"I know my rights!"

"What did she do? What the fuck did she do?!"

"She's being charged with murder." His words were shaky as I was slumping against the wall. Murder? My mom? Was he joking? This was Mom we were talking about!

"Murder?! Daddy that can't be right!" Barb cried.

But as I sank all the way to the floor, the truth hit me. "It was my organs…" I croaked, silencing the both. "Collins." I could see Uncle Jim's dark eyes going wide, maybe I wasn't supposed to let that slip. Too late now. "I'm right…aren't I?"

"How did you-" He stops and shakes his head before bowing it to the floor. "She confessed, Sam." In other words, there wasn't a damn thing he could do. And if he did—everyone would know.

"You mean to tell me that my mother—our mother- snatched a full grown man and his daughter off the street, killed him and removed his organs?! You honestly think she did that by herself?!"

"No, she didn't. unfortunately, the other party involved is dead. She's the only one we can charge."

"Who was it?" Barb asked, the words forcing Uncle Jim's gaze to the floor as his cheeks filled with air.

"Dr. Thomas Elliot. It was his clinic she's been working for these last few months…I thought she was still working at Gotham General."

I couldn't stop my head from slinking back to the wall any more than I could stop the laugh that came bubbling out of me.

"That son of a bitch!" He played my mother's weakness right into his hands. "Oh, God, I think I'm gonna be sick." I couldn't focus on anything, not the rhythm of Barb's hand on my back, or the darkening of Uncle Jim's shadow. But when that door came open, I couldn't help but lift up my head as my mother was lead out. I didn't recognize the stone faced woman, but she turned and spoke.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But I had to."

"You just had to make Anabel Collins an orphan, right?"

"Samantha." I could hear the links in her cuffs clinking. It didn't matter that someone had put their nicely pressed jacket over her hands—as if that would save her the shame. "One day you'll understand."

I couldn't follow them as they lead her down the hall, her voice echoing out to me. She could be saying how much she loved me, and how much she wanted to keep me alive and all I could do was sit there. Oh, I understood. My mother was a murderer.

And if I ever got my hands on Elliot, I would be too.

The pilot isn't coming. Now what? Delilah wasn't sure if it was the thought that was making her grimace or the mix of sweat and sand that was making into her eyes. We're not equipped to survive in the desert. Hell, then again they'd be lucky to make it out of the compound. Feeling the body in her choke-hold go slack, the girl let it drop to the dirt.

The air was full of chaos. It reverberated with gunshots and the scraping of swords and scabbards. There was the crack of flesh and bone and the thud of bodies colliding into the earth. No time to breathe. No time to think. It was defend or die, a bad time for your arms to ache in protest when you're fending off a blade with crossed swords.

Ra's went straight for Dad. And Talia she realized wasn't far behind. "Damian!" The girl cried, nodding toward them.

"Are you-"

"NOW! Don't argue!" She snapped, putting her foot on her opponent's chest to dislodge him. With nothing more than a nod, her back was open to the wind and Damian was leaping in to cut his mother off.

It was the bite of steel that made her twist, but no sooner had the girl turned was the ninja falling at her feet. For a split second, Jason's body was taut, but as the girl wiped the coat of blood out of her eyes, and forced herself to take a breath, he simply ejected the empty magazines. "Looks like our piolet chickened out." He said, letting a curse slip when he found his pockets empty.

Delilah's only response was to dart around his side, forcing him to rear his head back when her blade clanked against an oncoming katana. There was nothing comfortable about feeling cold steel against your neck. Looks like he'd be doing this by hand, he wouldn't be the only one. Feeling the ribs give beneath his elbow, he pushed giving the girl enough room to twist just enough to slam that scaly hilt down on their attacker's head.

"Running them through would be a hell of a lot easier," He grumbled, feeling a body press into his back. It was just enough to let them catch a breath. Damian had his mother occupied, and the big guy was certainly holding his own against Ra's but he had a feeling if they didn't start clearing the way toward them, something ugly was about to go down.

"Damn! I'm on my last mag!"

"Make it count!"

"The mercs are running low. We just don't have the numbers."

"So what's your plan out of this one, Genius?"

But Del could only raise her swords as the enemy advanced. Her lungs burned, her muscles were quivering with adrenaline-she was ready as she was ever going to be to cross swords one more time. She didn't expect for her face to be sprayed with blood or for some of the bodies to drop around them.

"What-"The sand was running red. The word had barely tumbled out of her mouth when the ground shook, and the force of a blast knocked them to the ground. Covering her head with her hands as the rubble flew over like shrapnel, she could only see a gaping hole forming in the thick sand stone walls of the compound.

Charged Batarangs? Tim!

"I think the Calvary has arrived," Jason said with a groan as he peeled himself up and ripped her out of the dirt. Peering through the smoke and flames, he could see the little dark haired brat scrambling to his feet. The boy slid, kicking Ra's legs out from under him, forcing him to drop his blade as Bruce slowly made it upright, staggering to find his feet as blood began to seep through his head cover. He must've been hit by the debris.

What he didn't expect was for Ra's to knock the boy back as he left to his feet, and when Damian came at him again, He seemed to simply reach forward and grab the kid by the front of his shirt, lift him off his feet and sling him against one of the many pillars that circled the yard. The kid was still moving.

"Little shit's tough as nails."

Delilah wasn't against his back anymore.

"Wait!" But as the word left him, the air filled with a rumble, forcing the girl to freeze. The pylons were coming down.

"Damian!"

In a blink, the boy disappeared beneath a pile of stone.

"No! No! No!" The words tumbled out of her like a chant as the girl slid to her knees, tossing her swords into the sand. "Damian?! Damian?!" Ripping off her gloves, the stone tore at her fingers, but piece by piece she shoved the boulders out of her way, unsure of what she would find once she got deep enough.

But then she saw it, a dirt smudged face peering out her from the rubble. "Damian? Damian, talk to me."

"What?" At his croaking, the girl dropped back to her knees. "Are crying? Seriously? Don't just sit there. Get me out."

"I thought—I thought—"

"Now there's something dangerous." He scoffed, as he began to work himself free. When she gave a shaky laugh and continued to scrape away at the opening she made, he could feel something strange jumping around in his chest before a sound tricked out of him. It was enough to make his sister's eyes crinkle.

"DEL!" Father?

The man was scrambling, hell, even the so-called robins were flocking in their direction. Those eyes that had been crinkling with laughter were wide and unblinking. Her laugh had become nothing but a wet gasp as Damian lifted his head and found the point of a blade sticking out of his sister's chest, inches from his nose.

"Didn't I tell you what would happen?"

"NO!"

The boy was still clawing his way back into the sunlight when his mother's shadow spilled over them. Her eyes weren't on Delilah Wayne or the amount blood she was losing, her eyes were locked on the green hilted sword that Ras' was ripping out of her back.

"Where-Where did you get that?!" she cried as his grandfather shook the blood from the blade. "Father!" She seemed so panicked.

"Ask her. And you better be quick about it."

"How did you get that sword?!" Talia cried, dropping to her knees as she yanked Delilah up by her shoulders. The girl's only answer was to choke on her blood.

"Mother stop! Stop! She's bleeding out!" Damian snapped, shoving the delirious woman back as he made his way toward the girl, frantically pressing his hands over the wound, but there was nothing. Not a tremble or a breath, just tacky fabric and red sand that was anything but dry. "She's…she's the granddaughter of the Dragon." The boy uttered, staring down at his hands. "The one you used to tell me about." He added, struggling to work his arms under Delilah's limp body.

"Used to be." Ra's put in, ignoring his daughter as she staggered back on her hands.

"No! How?!" No sooner had the question left her did Talia's eyes go wide and her face begins to lose its color. "The-the- dragon has a granddaughter named Paige—"

"Again, used to."

"Oh, oh, God, Father, that woman—and still you—you killed Gisele's granddaughter?! She was the one—I didn't know—I didn't know!" No sooner had the woman make it to her feet did a spear rip through the man's chest.

Damian froze, the weight of his sister's lifeless body hanging in his arms as his grandfather spilled to his knees. "Damn that woman!"

He expected that his mother would take care of him, that she'd run to his aid, and yet she did nothing of the sort. Shoving Tim out of the way, she fled, calling out like a child who'd been separated from her mother. When a second spear pierced through Bruce's leg, tumbling the man to the ground, the woman only spun and disappeared into the chaos.

"Oh, shit. Del?! Del!"

"She's...dead," Damian whispered, clutching the body tighter when Drake tried to relive his arms of her weight.

"Boy." Ra's croaked groaning as he tried to shove the spear back out with his own slick hands. "Help me, I must get to the pit."

The Lazarus pit!

He never realized how much his knees ached, or for that matter, how much she actually weighed. Thunder Thighs indeed. "Tim, help me." He managed, letting the teen gather the bloody thing into his arms. "I'll lead you down to the pit, it's the only..." He uttered, pausing when the weight of his grandfather's hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"I am your blood!"

"So is she."

Dad? Dad, are you awake?"

He wasn't until those talon like fingernails were prying open his eyelids. "Damn it." He groaned, forcing himself to sit up as he rubbed the offended eye. Blinking he took a breath letting himself adjust to the unfamiliar shapes in the room. Had it been so long since he'd seen it in the dark? "What are you doing out of bed?" The words came out like a growl, forcing him to rub his chin when the child that was standing by his bed backed up, wringing her fingers into knots.

"I um…I…" Hair tangled and matted, Del just stood there and shivered. Why was it he could hear every little noise she made during the day but at night, she moved around like a skilled little ninja? "I couldn't find Alfred." She whispers.

"He's gone for the weekend, remember?"

"And Dicky?"

"He's on patrol for me tonight." Bruce yawned, watching those pale little shoulders slump further. "Are you going to tell me what you want or not?" He asked, ignoring bob of her throat as she forced herself to the edge of the bed once more, filling her lungs with an audible breath.

When the room flickered with light casting shadows and rain on the windows, he didn't need an answer, she was already backing away. She was looking for somewhere to go. For someone to go to and he was the only option. The last option. By the time he had untangled himself from the blankets and put his feet to the floor, she was gone.

Staggering through the dark and empty house was like trespassing into another world, one made vaguely familiar with the stark flashes of light. You'll be fine with her, he said. She's self-sufficient, he said. That'd be the last time he listened to Alfred. He made her sound like a houseplant.

Sliding through the open doors of Delilah's room, he could see nothing but flashes of slender white trees and happy little red birds. The bed might've been empty but if he listened hard enough, he could hear the sound of a child holding in her sobs. Under the bed. "Del?"

But as Bruce worked himself around the bed, his foot found something first. "Son of a bitch." He hissed, lifting up his foot to find the culprit. A Lego. "You didn't tell me you booby-trapped the place." He said, pausing at the bedside. When the girl didn't answer, Bruce eased to his haunches, glancing around for any more brick shaped torture devices.

Delilah, he noted had her hands to her ears, fisted in her fingers was something gray. A cloth of some sort. When the girl didn't make a move to come out, he grabbed for her.

"No! It's safe where I am! Leave me alone! It's safe!" There was a time once when sudden noises forced him to recall. But in all those times, he was never small enough to fit beneath the bed or for that matter small enough to fit against someone's chest. Too small, perhaps. Far too small. "Let go!"

The howling and clawing didn't stop him from easing all the way to the floor, letting his back collapse against the wall behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the cloth slipping to the floor, the dark lettering visible in the small flashes of light. Yale.

"Never. Not in a million years," He uttered, peeling that sticky face out of his shoulder. "You understand me? You're safe. I know I wasn't—I'm here now. I won't let anything hurt you." Reaching out he let his fingers snatch up the old T-shirt, unsure if the child could feel his breath staggering when he put it back in her hands. It might've been his once, but it didn't smell like him. "You're just going to have to trust me."

"Y-you promise?"

She was waiting, and he wasn't breathing. As much as the right word popped in his head, he couldn't say it. Not to her. Not with those big shiny tears rolling down her face—a face that looked a little too much like his own—and hers. Instead, he pulled Delilah closer, unsure if he might crush her in the process.

"As long as there's still breath in me, I swear."

Yo! You alright?! Are you alright?!"

His ears were still ringing, and while he could vaguely make out the syllables that were tumbling out of Jason's mouth, he couldn't take his eyes off the unmoving body in Tim's arms. NO! He promised! He swore!

Yet, no matter how he clawed his way out of the sand, his leg would just fold beneath him, jarring whatever foreign body was protruding out of him. "No! Don't try to pull it out!" Alexandre Devereux. He almost didn't recognize the face beneath the layer of sand. It was enough to startle Jason and leave Bruce time to fist his hands into the man's shirt. Enough time to look him in in the eye.

"Her! Not me! HER! They're taking her to the Lazarus pit!" He roared, releasing his fallen robin with a shove. The only thing that was keeping him from following was Alexandre's grip and that goddamn spear wedged in his leg.

"This is gonna hurt like a mother fucker."

The stillness is all I have. Stillness, darkness and the feel of gritty rooftop under my spine. She thinks I can't hear her, that I can't feel the soft vibrations of her movements slinking around the roof above my head. Unleashing a sigh, I turn my eyes to the paltry sky. It's nothing compared to the arms of the universe I've seen in other places. Sometimes I'm sure mother sent me here as a punishment.

"You're noisy."

"And you're grouchy."

Definitely punishment.

"I don't remember asking for your company," I grumbled, listening to her hiss as she sank herself down with folded legs. "I don't need-"

"I don't remember caring if I asked or not." She said, easing her bandaged arm into her lap as she tilted her head to the sky. "Quite frankly, I wasn't expecting you to be up here." And just for a moment, she's quiet. The world is quiet, leaving me to wonder which stars were dead and shimmering on borrowed time. "How's the face?"

Right now? It's numb. However, if I close my eyes, I can still feel the gravel biting into my cheek. I can still feel Mother's laugh shivering through my skin—and her hands pushing into my ribs—pushing me into nothingness. "If you're going to speak, go away."

"Yeah, that's not happening. You're on my roof." She quips, easing her back along the shingles. "Keep it up, Ninja Boy and I'll shove you off myself."

"Like my-" Mother? Sucking the blood from the cut on my tongue, I shake my head, aware that her eyes aren't on the stars anymore. She's staring at me as if she's about to catch something. "You're not the center of attention anymore. I suggest you get over it. It'll all be mine. Including this spot you're so fond of."

"Take it."

"Because I'm the blood son—what?" I expected a fight. I expected for the center of Father's world to have an explosion. But she was still and staring into the sky.

"It's just stuff."

"You're so anti-climactic."

There's a sliver of her smirk on her face before it gives to the winding tendrils of her breath. "I think I was conditioned to be that way." She offers. "Too much excitement—bad for the heart. Expecting too much—crying too much—stressing too much—hoping for too much—fuck even bacon is bad for me." She laughs, but the sound is dry and empty as a locust shell. "And you? Conditioned to be crazy."

"Tch." For the moment we're both silent, listening to the hiss of the waves below. "You shouldn't have saved me. That was a dumb decision."

"Delilah! You've got fifteen seconds to march yourself down here and take your medication, because if I've got to come fetch you, God help you, Young Madame!"

"And the warden calls," Del mutters, peeling herself up before she smacks me in the leg. My jaws tighten, clamping down on my words as she points up, forcing my eyes to fleeting light trailing across the sky. "Make it a good one. A dumb one." She says easing to the edge. "Just don't…"

"Hope for too much?"

"Too late, isn't it?"

"I thought your noisy ass was leaving?"

Wait! Don't do this to her, not this. Take her to Beau! Anything is better than this!"

"We won't reach him in time-"

"Look, Kid, just-just listen to me—every little memory she has of you—every minute—It could disappear. She'll forget that she ever loved you."

"I don't care if she forgets! I won't! I'll trade every second there is if it means we can have her back!"

"Will you two shut up?!" Damian snapped, silencing the voices at his back.

"What if she becomes like me-"

"Are you afraid of her becoming something like you? Or are you just afraid that she'll forget you?" Tim's hissing, Damian twisted, watching the man sag against the wall as if the words had socked him in the chest. "You're not the only one who loves her—"

"She's not you, Todd! And your incessant need to protect her isn't going to give you the forgiveness you want! She's dead! You failed! We all failed! Now shut up before I kill you both!" Damian roared, snatching the girl's body out of Tim's arms. "And just for the record, I wouldn't bring your asses back. I have a quota for stupid ideas."

The biggest annoyance would finally be out of the way, and yet, with aching arms and the weight of a lifeless flesh and bone, he found himself slipping further into the pit. "I didn't ask you to save me." He muttered, the breath shuddering out of his lungs as the murky green water began to swallow his legs. "You better not come back like Todd." He croaked, breath catching as he sank. Is this what's it like to be burned alive?

Teeth stabbing into his lip to capture the screams, he willed his arms to drop, letting his sister's body fall to the floor.

"Damian-"

"No. Don't. Stay put." The boy huffed, staggering back the way he came. When Jason reached and snagged him by the back of his shirt, he couldn't even fight, he just let the man drag him out, leaving him to gasp at the air as the tears of reaction made their tracks.

"The shit's like fire. Sure it heals, but the pain…it either knocks you out cold or…"

"It makes you mad."

"I…don't think…I like what you're insinuating, Drake." Damian panted, peeling himself up.

"You're already crazy," Tim muttered pacing the edge of the pool. "Can anyone come out of this with their sanity?"

The child didn't answer. His graze trapped on the wriggling shadows beneath the water. He didn't even turn his head to the sound of shuffling feet on the stairs. It's not the stuff I want. He couldn't make himself move, even when the water broke and that inhuman scream rang his ears. He could only push the two boneheads back as someone else fell into the water, clutching the raging thing close, taking every cut and scream she could give until she simply collapsed from exhaustion. I have the skills. However, you have something else.

"It's me. It's just me. You're all right. You'll be all right." Bruce uttered, scooping the girl into his arms as he hobbled his way out of the pit only to hand her to Alexandre's waiting arms. Only when his shadow fell over Damian's soggy self, did the boy finally break his stare, meeting him with those stony green eyes.

Perhaps the kid didn't expect him to crouch down and grab him by the chin. He didn't say a word. He just nodded, as if the words might betray him.

"I wasn't kidding when I said we need to get out of here," Alexandre called, forcing them both to look up.

"Just how many explosives…"

"Oh, only a fuck-ton."

"I think that means we need to go, don't you?" Bruce asked, pulling the boy to his feet before ushering his small flock to the exit.

"And you might want to cover your mouths."

Breaking into the world was without fanfare-they found the compound silent, blanketed by a fog that stung the eyes and left bodies motionless on the sand. So, this is what the dragon is capable of.

"Try not to in too deeply, you'll paralyze yourself."

Grandfather's army... She rendered them useless. The thought had the boy twisting, overlooking the bodies at his feet that were crawling and twitching like half dead insects. He only concerned himself with one place, just one.

"Damian."

Even with his father's strained voice echoing after him, he couldn't stop his feet from leading him back to the last place he'd left Ra's Al Ghul. Yet, all the boy could find was a pile of rubble and the bones of a broken spear. Not a track. Not a swipe in the sand. Nothing.

Crouching down, his fingers plucked at the busted shaft, just as a shadow crept along his back. "Even the blood is nearly gone." He said, his shoulders all but collapsing under the weight of his father's hand. "He'll never forgive me for this."

"Let's go home."

I can't breathe-I can't… In the fight to rip the mask from her face, she crashed to the earth creating clouds of sand and a pool of vomit. With every sour heave, she could feel her muscles shivering, aching as if her skin had been pulled too tight—new and hot like it'd been scorched inside her tacky clothes.

"Delilah?"

Nothing burned more than the feel of the air filling her lungs. With that very motion came the ache of regrowth and fire that was burning her from the inside out. She didn't know how far she'd fallen, but as she ripped the balaclava from her face, she gasped for aware suddenly aware of how her lungs were reluctant to fill.

"Delilah…"

"Mom?" Her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and yet all the girl could do was stare at the woman in the distance, her muscles trembling as she worked her to her hands and knees. She was so close she could almost reach for her.

And yet something wriggling beneath her hand had forced the teen to pause as a coppery scaled serpent wormed its way from under the sand. "Shit!" Scrambling back on her hands, her fingers only found more slithering things. The desert had come to life, filling with a sea of scales and forked tongues. "M-Mom?!"

"They can't hurt you, Del." However, the words offered little solace as a pair of fangs found their way into her shoulder, forcing the girl to scream as she rolled, trying to shake the thing off. However, they just kept coming. Biting, latching on like leeches.

"G-get them off! Mama! Get them off me!"

"No! No, Bébé, stop. She's not there. Nothing's there." Trapped by a strong grip, Del collapsed there in the dirt, panting as the serpents melted back into the sand. "It's just a mirage."

But before she could react she could only let herself jolt forward as everything continued to come up. There was a brushing—something small and cold pressing against her forehead—a ring, a silver dragon, wings spread, mouth wide.

"Here. Small sips."

"Uncle…Alex?" But the familiar face didn't answer, he simply thrust a canteen in her direction

She could've been made of sand—no trivial amount seemed enough to quench the ache that was searing her from the inside. "Easy," He cautioned, laying a hand on the canteen as water began to dribble down her chin. "Haven't you puked enough?" He asked, relieving her of the item the second she came up for air in gasps.

"D-Dad-I have to-"

"Right here." With the touch of her father's hand on her back, the girl's shoulders seemed to curl inward, letting a steady breath audibly hiss from her lips as the panic ebbed back. It was then that Alexandre hooked Delilah's arm around his neck and hoisted her from the sand.

Glancing around she could only see the worn faces following the thin rocky path, beyond them a cloud was lifting from the compound, silent and still. "How did we—what are you doing here?" She croaked. "And why the hell am I all wet? The last thing I-" The words trailed, leaving a pale faced teen stumbling to a stop as she pressed her hands to her heart. There wasn't a sharp blade or blood. The marks were there. Blood and ripped fabric from where Ra's had run her through. And yet…there was a flutter beneath her hand.

"Why indeed." Damian scoffed, arms stretching out behind his head as he trudged ahead, not even giving the wide-eyed thing a second glance.

The staggering feet stilled, leaving the girl's mouth flopping, grasping the air for the as she watched the boy widen the gap between them. He brought me back… But as the thought all but shoved stones into her throat, Delilah found herself squinting at the shapes in the horizon. "Is that a mirage?" She croaked, pitching forward as she stumbled over the changing terrain.

"Nope."

"It's a plane—a real plane." The words tumbled as someone grabbed her free arm and molded it around their neck. Tim. "You brought me dragons." The whisper only seemed to twist the lips in that dusty face, one that slipped when the sound of metal sliding from a scabbard brought their eyes forward.

Damian's knuckles were as white as the hair on Gigi's head. A sight that disappeared as Bane released himself from his bow.

There've been quite a few Ubu, I only know one or two very well.

"She knows him." Del uttered, arms sliding away from the supportive shoulders, as she pushed herself forward. "My sword. You were so interested in it." She said, willing herself to keep still when the giant of a man whirled around. "Because you knew-"

"That it belonged to a dragon?" He asked, those pale blue irises growing wide as he closed the gap between them. "Of course."

"Once upon a time," Gigi muttered, the words creating Bane's bronzed face before he snatched at the girl's hand.

"She says that, but I see she hasn't given you the katana." His fingers are calloused and hard, and before she can ask why he's prying her fingers open and placing something in her hand. "Will this erase my debt?" He asks. However, the words aren't for her.

"Yes. We owe each other nothing."

"Use it wisely." He says, forcing her fingers closed over the small glass vial.

"Is this-"

"We're starting to think you lot are twice the trouble and worth twice the price." The mercenaries.

Lifting her gaze from the precious vial in her palm, Delilah found nothing but smirks deepening the familiar bloody faces. And the more they laughed and clapped their hands in approval, the more aware the girl became of the feel of the wind on her skin.

"Oh, fuck me. Aren't you that little rich girl?!"

"You're still alive," Bane grumbled.

"You sound so surprised. That kinda hurts, ya know."

"So, what kind of price are we talking about, Gentleman?" At Gigi's question, the tatty bunch moved forward, bringing with them the smell of rust and sweat.

Delilah doesn't move. She can't. While all eyes are forward, the teen is trapped, watching a ghost that's slipping around them. Mirage or no, the woman had followed.

"I think I like the way this old broad talks, but if she's Delilah Wayne, who are the rest of you? Oh, Sweetheart. I don't think you could afford us."

"Try me."

"They're not watching their backs." Her mother says. The voice nothing more than a sing-song whisper but it's enough to snap the girl to attention.

"Wait-"

Too late. By the time her lips could make the warning, Bane had grabbed the closest pair. Never had the smash of bone seemed so dull, even as their skulls caved on impact. Voices of caution were echoing into the ebbing light, and yet all Del could do was stand there, as the bodies dropped to the ground.

The last man standing had all but toppled into the dirt in the effort to get away. And for one fleeting moment it all seemed possible, until the stretch of a falcon's wings made them all look to the sky. In an instant, he would see nothing. Not the sky nor shadows.

"TALON!" The falcon's only move was to flutter to the ground, crushing the small organs into the sand as if they were prizes.

"The bird did you a favor." Bane rumbled, shoving the girl out of his way and ignoring the Falcon's territorial puffing when he reached for the man who was trying to snake away on his hands and knees. "He can't see your secret. But he will not get to tell about it either."

"He's right." Her mother said, tilting her head as if the falcon was nothing more than a curiosity at her feet. "It's time to go, Del."

She's frozen and wide-eyed. The splatter turns to dark red smears under her trembling fingers. I don't know if she's staring at the bodies that have tumbled to her feet or if she's still following something we can't see. I do know that the child has seen enough death.

"Delilah," She staggers, eyes locked, she can't look away from the falcon any more than I can block out the screaming. I don't wince like the others when the snap of bone silences the cries. I can only force a nod as the body drops at Bane's feet.

"Why-"

"It's our way." Bane uttered, brushing the sand out of his palms. "Perhaps another time." He said, pulling the hood of his cloak tighter around his face as the plane's engines roared to life, smothering us in a cloud of silt and sand. "Batman."

"They were never going to come back." The voice behind the red mask sounds so familiar, and yet I can only turn my attention to the girl. Her father was never my concern.

"Come on, Bébé, come," I whisper dragging the girl into the plane.

"I knew he could—but I didn't think he-"

"Sit, just sit down."

"It was so easy for him—and he saw Mom's research—oh, God."

"No, don't. Don't touch your face." I say, waiting for shaking hands to fall in her lap before I tighten her seatbelt. "You don't know that he'll do anything at all. He gave you the antivenom, didn't he?"

She nods, fingers tightening around the little vial as if she's holding for all she's worth.

"Get your asses on the plane! You can struggle with morality later!"

"Morality? Someone's breaking out their big boy words." Remi mutters, swinging the rifle off his back and into Alexandre's hands. "We just going to leave him out there?" He asks darting for the cockpit.

"Yes, we are."

"Jesus. Mom, would you get in a chair already?!" Alexandre barks, dropping Wayne onto the small couch. He's such a hot head under pressure.

"Worry about yourself," I say, waving him off as I pull myself to my feet. Even as I sink into my own seat, I can't take my eyes off the girl. A girl who is all but clutching her fists to her ears. I know I'm not the only one watching her as she lifts her foot to keep something unseen from touching her. She's unraveling.

"Del-"

"Don't. We'll deal with her in a minute." I say falling into a chair, and for that split second, Wayne is silent. Good. I don't know what else might come out of my mouth if he pushes the issue. Thankfully, a boy and a bloody beaked bird slip into the seat across my small table, giving me something else to focus on.

"Did you have to bring that thing?"

"The falcon? Or my father?"

"Both." I hiss, fingers digging into the armrest as the aircraft shook and rattled, the force of the explosion pitching us forward. I couldn't tell if it was the scream of engines ringing in my ears or a girl's cry. I don't reach for the oxygen masks that have popped from the ceiling as if the plane's been disemboweled, instead, my fingers are frantically pushing at the window screen.

The black smoke billowing out from below only makes my chest ache. They say revenge is bittersweet. One would think I'd be used to the taste by now.

"It's not the end of him," Damian says, closing his window screen with a snap.

"It never is."

"Sit down!" Remi's yelling pulls my gaze from the window, and for a split second, I can see who he's yelling at. But Tim offers no acknowledgment as he works himself up the aisle, grabbing onto the seats as the plane shudders. But he makes it to the empty seat beside my wailing granddaughter.

"Hey, hey, I've got ya."

"Tim," The boy lifts his head for the briefest of moments, Delilah's cheeks between his hands. "Take care, she's hyper sensitive. I'll give her a sedative as soon as we're on an even keel."

"You must've seen my grandfather at the worst of times." Damian utters, resting those familiar looking eyes on me. This boy has no doubt seen Ra's rise from the pits, crazed and strung out by the very force that was keeping him alive.

"It's not all I've seen."

Damian turns away, prying the window open once more to a world of nothing but clouds. "Nor me."

"Jesus Christ, Alex! Just how many explosives did you use?!" Remi asks, giving me a nod as I slink out of my seat.

"Uh, all of them. That's how many." Alexandre replies, folding his hands behind his head. But even as I fish the sedatives out of the first aid kit, I can feel those pale green eyes on me. "Will she be okay?"

"Only time will tell. It affects everyone differently." I say, crouching down in front of the girl's chair. "For now, I just want her comfortable enough to sleep it off." The child doesn't fight when I stretch her across the seats, letting her head rest against Tim's leg. She doesn't even flinch when I stick her with the needle. She just croaks out my name.

"Gigi…"

"Yes, Chéri."

"Will I stop seeing her?"

Her forehead's warm to the touch, her hair wet and tangled between my fingers. I can only manage to curl it around her ear. "Your mother? You're still seeing her?"

"She's on the plane." She whispers. "Sitting next to Dad. I know-I know she's not there. Not really, right?"

I can't help but look over my shoulder at the empty space. "No, Darling, she's not. That'll stop."

"What if I don't want it to?"

"Hush now. Just close your eyes." Thankfully she does, leaving me to collect myself. "It has to stop."

"Anything I should be watching for?" Tim asks, carefully prying the precious vial from Delilah's fingers.

"She'll be all over the map for the next couple days. But nervous ticks she didn't have before—severe mood swings—memory loss. It's her psychosis I'm worried about – especially if she continues to hallucinate."

"Have you seen that in someone else? What happens if it continues?" Wayne asks, forcing me to meet his eye. But before my mouth can open someone else's voice rings out.

"She won't be able to tell the difference between what she sees and what reality is."

I can't help but tilt my head at the red mask as Wayne shifts his weight forward to look at the man. "How do we stop it? Therapy?"

"Maybe. But honestly, Bruce, how deep she gets sucked in, depends on her. She has to want to make it go away. If it was you – would you want it to stop?"

Bruce sinks back, silent and still. It's a loud enough answer.

"And just who are you?" I ask, receiving nothing but a scoff as the man carefully peels the mask up, revealing a bruised and bloodied face that pulls a name off my lips in an instant. "Jason."

"Hey, Gigi."

"Don't you 'Hey Gigi' me!" I cry ignoring the questioning chorus babbling out of my sons. "I thought you-"

"I did." He utters, begrudgingly prying himself up when I wave him forward. Catching his face in my hands I give him a smack him on the cheek.

"Ow."

"That's for trying to lift my jewelry the last time I saw you, you little shit. Well, I guess you're not so little anymore."

He gives me a grin, wide and painful. "You schooled my ass then too."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Good." I don't need to ask how he's standing before me. Or how the smart ass child that I remember became a man that I could barely get my arms around. The pits were also a bag of mixed blessings.

"Ow. Ow. OW. I missed you too, you freaking masochist. Now remove your claws."

"I didn't say anything about missing you, Petit Malin."

He may have given me an impish smile, but I could see those pale blue eyes glancing over me. Fear. I might have witnessed the madness. I may have existed beside it. Jason had lived it.

When Delilah finally opened her eyes, the roar had dulled; every stitch and groove that rubbed her skin had softened. She couldn't say the same for the smell of salt and sweat, or the throbbing in the back of her head.

"Hey, sleepyhead. You kinda snore."

Squinting up at the familiar face, Del realized she'd all but used Tim as her personal pillow. "No, I don't." She croaked, frowning at the dry crackly voice. Untangling herself from Tim's draped arm, she found a bunch of familiar faces staring back at her. Including one she didn't expect to see. Mom. Why are you still here?

"Sure you do. We've been listening to it for the last seven hours."

"I didn't drool too, did I?" She asked as she tried to wet her dry mouth, aware that her father was all but fighting to gather himself to his feet.

"No, thank God. " Tim teased, watching the girl lock eyes on something ahead of them. "You all right?" The words seemed to send a jolt through the teen's body forcing her to sink back in the chair.

"I think so. I'd kill for water and some aspirin through."

"On it." He should've felt relieved to stand up for the first time in the last seven hours, but as soon as the boy glanced back, her eyes were elsewhere, large and locked. Glancing toward the front of the plane, he could only see Gigi and Damian working a chessboard between them. It couldn't have been that interesting. Unless…

"Here, give her one of these." Glancing at the Alka-Seltzer packet Jason slid toward him, Tim forces his eyes to the small strip of counter at the back of the plane. "It's like having a hangover from Hell. That should help." Jason said as he squatted down to investigate the contents of the mini-fridge.

"Thanks." The boy was back to watching her.

"Something up?"

The kid shook his head and snagged a water bottle out of the refrigerator door. "I'm not sure." He said returning to rifling through the cabinet ahead of him. But not before giving Delilah one last look.

"Can I ask you something? The movement stopped. "Do you love her?"

"What kind of question is that?!"

"The yes or no kind!" Jason snapped pausing his search as the boy sagged into the counter, leaving a silence between them. "I care about her, you know?"

Looking back, he could see Bruce's hulking form leaning over Del's chair. The man didn't say anything at all He just kissed her on the forehead, squeezed her hand. If he had planned to say something, he stopped when he noticed them gawking. "What are you two staring at?"

"Nothing."

As the man limped his way back to his seat, Tim sighed, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because no matter what I feel, it's not fair or healthy—not for her. But I can't walk away or bury whatever this is-unless I know that she'll be-"

"I love her," Tim whispered, his admission all but sucking the color from his face. "But I can't promise you she'll be safe. It's Del we're talking about. I'm not her guardian and neither are you."

Hooking his fingers in the collar or the boy's suit, Jason yanked him forward. "This isn't easy for me." He hissed. "I know that I'm no good for her, but don't make me second guess my choices. You think I want to walk away from her? You honestly think this is a choice I want to make?"

Shoving the kid back Jason held up his hand as he eased back onto his feet with a couple brown bottles in his hand. "I have a chance to get eyeballs deep into Nine Circles. I can't let her follow me. Not there."

At the mention of the human trafficking ring, the teen leaned forward. "Then you should know something. The dragon had Del's mom looking into the rings in the area before she died. She was trying to find a connection between them and Ra's."

The words all but had Jason staggering back. "P? Are you sure?"

Tim nodded. "She was probably a thorn in Ra's side. That's my guess. He's the one who sent St. James and Gillespie to Elliot after all. One sociopath using another to hide his tracks."

"That would explain why I saw Ubu placing bids there. Son of a bitch."

"Beau's the one you'll want to talk to. He can get you in from the buyer's side." Tim whispered, the two of them going still as Damian came marching up the aisle only to swoop into Tim's empty seat. " I won't be able to keep her out of this. Not with her setting up a task force with Gordon."

"Just keep her out of my way."

"What aren't you saying? There's another reason you don't want her involved isn't there? Why?"

"Just do it." The man muttered as he began to amble back toward the cockpit. "Please."

"Jason?" For just a moment, he stopped moving, tilting his ear to the air. "It's the right choice."

"We'll see about that."

"Alka-Seltzer? I'll pass." Del muttered when the packet landed on the tray in front of her.

"Jason swears on it," Tim said aware that her eyes were traveling elsewhere. "You sure you're okay? Are you still seeing her? Your mom, I mean. Or the snakes?"

"Hush now. It's our secret." What was she supposed to say? How could she tell them that her mother was half twisted in a seat with a finger pressed to her lips?

At her side, she could hear the music from Damian's headphones growing louder. The boy had pulled one out to hear their conversation.

"No. No, I'm just having a hard time focusing. I can't seem to stick to a single thought." At least a part of it was true.

"Drink it, or I'll waterboard you with it," Damian warned as Tim ripped the packet open and plopped the tablets into a small plastic glass.

Did he buy her words? She wasn't sure and he would leave her side until she'd gagged down the bubbly substance. That didn't stop his gaze from wandering in her direction. It was taking everything she had not to watch creature with her mother's face. He'd know.

When Damian offered one of his earbuds, Del was glad for the distraction.

"I like this one, but you never gave the title."

"The Robin," Delilah whispered, her fingers tapping on her leg as if she could still feel the keys.

"This one will be our next lesson."

"Is that so?"

"Tch." For a moment, there was nothing but the soft notes of a piano humming through her head but then the boy spoke, alerting her empty ear. "My mother used to tell me that I'd be another Alexander the Great. She used to tell me stories about him. And for a while, that's all I ever wanted."

"And now?"

"I don't know. It's strange. I don't even know who I am. What if I'm not the original?"

"You're my annoying little brother. That's good enough for me."

"We really need to work on those low standards of yours." When the girl just flashed him a silly grin, he scoffed and folded his arms under his head. "It was her, you know. The Dragon. She was the one who taught my mother all those stories about Alexander the Great. Strange coincidence we have her in common. You should've seen my mother's face when she found out…" The boy shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Never mind."

"It matters to you. "

"I said never mind!"

"What we found…we'll keep that between us if you want." Del whispered, earning nothing more than then a nod as she too leaned back, leaving them to stare at the light dancing on the ceiling. "Thank you. For what you did back there. I know you didn't have to."

"I was just making us even. If you start getting sentimental and stuff, I'm switching seats."

Had it always hurt this badly to breathe? In the midst of working the air into his lungs, Dick realized he was choking. The sound of his struggle only seemed to summon a crowd around him. "He's coming around!"

"Hold on, Master Dick." In an instant, he could feel something scraping its way out of his throat. A tube? The air was raw but it filled his lungs.

"Where-"

"The hospital. You gave us quite a scare."

He thought to laugh but even forming a smile made him ache. He settled for focusing on the worried lines of Alfred's face. "Alfred…I don't think I've ever seen you so unraveled before." The man looked as though he hadn't slept in days, his face had grown stubbly, his jacket and waist coat were hanging on the back of his chair. "I'm sorr-"

"That's enough out of you, Young Sir."

"Just try to take it easy." Barbra, he knew that voice long before he could feel her cool slender fingers tracing through his hair. She only seemed to frown when he lifted his hands out for inspection. No wonder they ached, they were completely black and blue. Almost like they were—rotting.

"The last thing I remember was walking…down the street with the kids."

"You stopped to grab drink—you ended up with one of the tampered bottles."

"Shit." He hissed, coughing as the word scratched its way out. "Where are they?! Where's Del-"

"Shh. Shh. Just lean back. They're fine." Barba assured him, gently pressing her hands against him as if it would keep him from crawling out of the bed. "Del's having blood drawn. Tim and Sam are with her. Damian's with Bruce. Apparently, Del's grandmother speared him good. He's having the pieces removed."

"Wait, what?"

At that, Alfred chuckled. "We'll fill you in, but for now all you need to know is everyone is safe."

"Why's Del having blood drawn?! Is she okay?"

"She's fine. She's having blood drawn to jumpstart more antivenin."

"She was the link we needed all along. Her mother had been injecting her with the venom to build an immunity." Barbra put in, gently tangling her fingers into his.

"How could Bruce not know?"

"She didn't tell him. The only one who knew wasn't on speaking terms with him." Alfred said plainly.

"The Dragon Lady."

"Why would she do that to me?" Del whispered, trying to find anything to stare at that wasn't a warm red tube. "Was it just an experiment? Was I the experiment?!" No sooner had the words slipped out of her mouth did she feel the strike of her grandmother's hand on her cheek.

"She was the experiment!" Gigi snapped, holding a hand out to keep Tim and Sam in their seats. "If you think she didn't test it on herself before she used it on you, you don't know your mother! Why do you think she lasted so long with the amount she'd been given?!" When the girl just stared at her with those wide blue eyes, Gigi sank into a chair beside her.

"I never—I never thought—"

"I knew she was worried. She was taking every precaution she could to protect you from Bane, but she wouldn't tell me why." Gigi said softly, cupping the girl's chin when the tears began to drip down her neck. "I didn't know what your father had gotten himself into but I knew he was the reason. That's why I wanted you with me. Bane wouldn't have been able to touch you. But I couldn't tell him why or how I had Bane in my- back pocket as they say."

"I don't know her, do I?" Del said, reminding herself to squeeze the foam piece in her hand. She didn't expect to feel the woman's hand on her own, not while her cheek was still stinging.

"Not as well as either of us would like." She said, leaning over to dig in her purse. "Remi was adamant that we should leave you with your father. I didn't like the idea. In fact, I rather hated it. But your mother was like a second daughter to him. If anyone knew what she would have wanted…" The woman stopped and shook her head. "If I couldn't have you, I was going to stick it to him anyway that I could." She said, handing the girl a slim pack of papers.

"This is—it was you! You bought the railways!"

"Falcone got wind, he's been pestering me ever since. Trying to make sure that it never ended up back in your father's control." She shrugged. "I'm not giving them to Bruce Wayne."

"You're giving them to me? What about Falcone?"

Gisele laughed. "Don't even worry about that worm. You're not just Thomas Wayne's granddaughter."

"Thank you, Gigi." The girl whispered, clutching the paperwork to her chest.

"It's not for free. There are a few things I'd like you to do. Your father may not agree with one of them." Gigi said as she gathered herself. "You mother. I want you to give her back her name. She was always Paige Devereux. Larson was just an alias her father used."

"So, you don't even know who he really was?" When the woman didn't answer, Delilah took a breath. "Dad might not care for it, but I can do that. What else?"

"Come around? I know we're heathens—"

"I'm a heathen too."

"Yes, you are. And we…well, you know. See you from time to time. I'd like you to stop hiding the fact that you're related to us. It's not a mark against you, Darling. It's armor. I want you to use it. I'm not going to be quiet about it anymore. Besides, I don't think I could get the rest of them to keep their mouths shut much longer. Your father might dislike that too, but I don't care."

"Me and my dad aren't exactly alike." Delilah offered, winning a smile out of the woman as she leaned in and pecked the offended cheek.

"I noticed."

"Hey, guys! He's awake!" Noticing the redhead in the hall, Delilah jolted, more than aware that the nurse was rushing in to stop her.

"Hold on, Miss Wayne! You'll rip that needle out of your arm!" She didn't expect the girl to snag at the clamps near by and pull the needle out on her own. Or that Gisele Devereux would hold a bit of cotton to the puncture. Delilah Wayne was still taping the cotton down by the time she'd made into the hall.

She didn't stop to apologize, instead, she hit that door, forcing the attendee to whirl around on his heel. For a moment the girl just stood there, eyes wide and chest heaving, like she might collapse right there.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Dick rasped. The words all but sending the girl across the room. In an instant, she was around him, crushing herself into him.

"It worked…oh, thank God. Thank God."

"No, thank you, Squirt."

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Dick just smiled and let the girl slip from his aching arms. "So what is that?" He asked, tilting his head to the small round award metal that'd been tucked in the shadow of the bouquets and balloons on his bedside table. Even now, she could see the gold sheen peeking through the fallen petals. But instead of reaching for it, Del just smiled.

"I did it."

"I'll say." Dick murmured, "Do you know what you're capable of now?"

"Yeah. I think I do."

" Don't you ever forget it."

"The said that they'll have to do a couple skin grafts on his hands. It'll be a little while before they let him leave. Between that, the PT and the withdrawal symptoms Dick's got a long road."

"The treatment's working on all the victims and Dick's back to making jokes of everything, that's all that matters." Tim offered, the sound of heels quieting as they paused on the stairs. Her hand wrapped carefully in his.

"Sorry, I said I wouldn't talk about—so what exactly are we doing here?"

"It's a surprise."

"Tim."

"Nope. Not telling." He teased, glancing back to smirk at her as he lead her up the stairs, more aware than ever that the tower was completely empty. He had her to himself. Rare indeed. It also made it a little hard to breathe. "I heard they transferred Sam's mom to Arkham." He said, feeling her fingers tighten as she cursed.

"They can't put her in the same place as Dr. Elliot! Jesus! Oh, shit, Sam's gonna blow a gasket. I mean, I know she won't go visit her, but still—"

"I know, I don't think Gordon will let that stand. But he can only go so far." Tim hung his head. "Now I'm talking about—sorry."

"You know, we could've just used the elevator," Del said, raising a brow as he pulled her to the door of the roof.

"I was stretching it out. I wanted you to myself." He answered, unsure what color his face was when he let her fingers slide from his own as he pushed the door open, letting the music from the terrace bleed down the stairwell before revealing a world of string lights and glowing skyscrapers.

"What in the world?" She squeaked, unsure he'd heard her at all, as she wandered out onto the terrace, aware of that constant flutter that almost made her laugh. After all, there was also Chinese takeout.

"This time you can't slam the door on me."

She did laugh, but as she caught the glint of something blue tucked away in the corner, she squashed the sound behind her lips with her fingers.

"Be gentle with it. I can't promise that it's entirely sound." He warned as the girl carefully plucked up the pale blue guitar.

"You put it back together…" She whispered, swallowing the knot that was balling up in her throat as she ran her fingers over the soft cracks. Cracks like scars, but it was here in her hands. It was whole. "I never thought I'd see it again."

"I mean, you'll never be able to actually play it, but—shit. I didn't mean to make you—" He said, hands furiously digging in his pockets.

"It's fine. I'm fine! I'm just a big crybaby." She mumbled, a laugh bursting out of her when he produced a very familiar piece of cloth.

"You cry easily." He told her, closing the gap between them. "But most of the time, I think your crying everyone else's share so they don't have to."

"I promise I'll give it back." She said, fingers clutching the handkerchief tighter as he smudged the wetness on her cheek with his bare fingers.

The words only summoned a smirk out of him. "I know where you live." He replied. "Hell, I even know where you sleep." He added, reaching over and reliving her fingers of the guitar he held out a hand to her. "If I remember correctly, I owe you a dance."

"You do. Sharp memory, Drake." She wasn't able to stop a laugh from escaping as he twirled her right into his chest the second her hand fell into his.

"Thank you, Miss Delilah Devereux-Wayne. God, that's a mouthful. How's your dad handling it?"

"He hates it. He understood when I had Mom's headstone adjusted. But publicly changing my name? I mean, they'd always planned to double barrel my name when they finally got together—but now, I don't know. Just hearing it makes him flinch. Like he's waiting for something to happen. But he won't tell me what that is." She muttered, aware that she could feel Tim's chest rising against her own. "I want to know who my mother was. I want the world to know too, I guess. She's the one person we never talked about and everyone that knew was asked to keep silent. I always thought that was Gigi's doing."

"Even though she was gone, your dad was still protecting her too."

"Yeah, but from what? Sorry, I'm doing it again." She said giving as sigh when he gave her a twirl. "Why, Timothy Drake! You've got some moves!"

"I know, and I haven't stepped on your feet once." He quipped as he pulled her back into him. "I asked Alfred for a little help." He confessed. "The guy's a lot smoother than we give him credit for."

"More than you boys give him credit for. He can be a suave mysterious person when he wants to. I think he knows something about everything."

"I think I figured out why you can't find your grandmother's plot." Tim said suddenly, aware that the girl had gone still. "You've been looking for the wrong name."

"What name would she have other than Bailey Devereux?"

"Bailey Pennyworth."

"What?!"

"He married her. From what I got, they were only married for a short time before she died…but yeah. Public records. I haven't outright asked him about it. He's so private and that's so…"

"Personal. But that makes him—"

"Yeah, but you've always treated him like a grandfather anyway." Tim offered, watching the girl tilt back her head and groan.

"That sneaky-"

"Ah, but you love Alfred." He reminded her.

"I do! But-"

"Shhh."

"But-"

"Maybe you can ask him about it after your meeting with Gordon." He said gently, unable to keep the laugh in his voice at bay. Only when she narrowed her eyes at him did he clear his throat. "Speaking about that, have you talked to Clara or Sissy?"

"Uncle Beau's bringing Clara into town the day of." Del uttered, deflating against Tim's chest, her words half muffled into his shirt. He always smelled so nice. "Sissy got accepted into a dance school. It's a boarding facility." She said, feeling his muscles tighten around her. "But it's close to home. She sees her aunt regularly. Me and Damian stopped in to see her on the way to Gigi's." She added. "Clark said everything seems to be pretty quiet."

"That's good. I take it Beau hasn't heard from Jason?" As soon as the words came out, he wished he could take them back. "He should've told you."

"He did. In his own way. He left me a burn phone and note." Delilah grumbled, leaving her to lift her head from his shoulder. "Is this going to be us? Constantly talking about this stuff, even on a date night?"

"Us?"

"I mean, I know that we're not-" The second his hand caught her chin, her thoughts fizzled. There was nothing. Just the shudder of her breath and the feel of him around her.

"You asked me what this was, once. You remember?"

"Yeah."

"That's what it is. What this is. That's what I want it to be. Us. If that's what you want. I-Del I-"

"Tim?"

"Hold on, I'm not good at this. I don't know what I'm doing. But I know what I want. And right now I've got it all to myself." The second she reached up and pointed to the sky, Tim tilted his head back. "Shit. I'm really starting to hate that light."

"It can wait." She whispered, standing on her toes so her mouth could reach his own.

"What are you doing?"

"Surveillance," I mutter, trying to decide if I should decapitate Drake now or later. I can hear father's boots shifting beside me. All it takes is a soft snap of a button on his utility belt and I know he's reaching for his own binoculars. He's going old school, but I can't stop to ask him why. "I should crash it. Don't you think?"

"I thought I made myself clear…" He shakes his head, I know the words aren't for me. Hell, I might as well not be there at all. "No.," he says at last, chest falling as he slips the device back into his utility belt.

A clink of a bat-a-rang and bit of plaster and they're breaking apart. My sister is perfectly pink. And perfectly busted. I expect father will chastise me for throwing one too.

"Nice shot." I'm not going to tell him that I missed. It's probably better that way.

"Oh, keep your capes on! We're coming!"

"Come on, we have work to do, they'll catch up."

I don't move from the ledge right away. I watch them a second longer. Flustered as they might be they're quick to react. Even on a so-called date, Del has squirreled away a bag with her suit and her sword. As a sister, she's annoying. But I guess I could keep her around. She's stubborn. She's prideful. She can be a complete idiot. But she has my back and I trust her with it. I guess she makes a half-decent Batgirl too.

Don't tell her I said that.