A/N; One of my betas pointed out that a warning would be appropriate for this chapter, and I'm disappointed with myself for not catching it earlier. This is probably the goriest chapter I've ever written. Lots of blood. Some gore. You have been warned, but also know that this was one of my favorite chapters to write for this fic. You'll have to find out why for yourself.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Someone Like You
Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing's going to get better. It's not.
-Oncler, The Lorax
xxXxx
Harry was quick to scamper up the stairs, securely closing the latch to the attic behind her to muffle out the excited sounds from below. Now alone, her fixed smile fell off her face as easily as a mask. Her suddenly tired brown eyes trailed down to the plastic bag one arm was pressing against her chest.
Kicking the random boxes and such aside until reaching the newspaper-stuffed mattress in the far corner of the attic, she opened the window just enough to give her light, but not enough to let anyone think she was up there.
Not that anyone ever asked where she was unless work needed to be done.
Sitting on the worn blankets, she dismally reached into the bag and started pulling out the contents.
Plaid again. Why did she have to tell Sir that she hated plaid? But still, clothes were clothes, and it wasn't like she had anyone to dress up for.
Or anything.
"No socks," she grumbled under her breath, the bag now empty of three ugly shirts and two questionable pairs of jeans. A receipt fell from the bag, but she already knew they were from the cheap second-hand store three streets down.
Harry thought wistfully of the beautiful clothing she had been wrapping an hour earlier. There was even a silk dress fit for the prom coming up!
Her heart began to ache as her vision blurred with barely restrained tears, making her fiercely rub her face with the plaid sleeve of the shirt she was already wearing.
"Come on, Harry," she whispered savagely to herself. "You know it won't get done unless you do it now."
One of the two days of the year that she was guaranteed to be left alone. The tired teenager knew she should work on homework first, but the jeers from the other students were getting worse.
She got up and retrieved the three pairs of socks that had been hanging up close to the window and grabbed a plaid shirt that had holes cut out of it. With a dull pair of child's scissors, she snipped a few more parts of it off and retrieved the needle and lone spool of thread she was allowed to have.
Although painfully obvious and uncomfortable, patched socks were better than no socks. Or shirts. Or pants.
Underwear. Really, would it kill him to give her something new, just once? Her earnings from one job alone could pay for a nice, second hand store outfit that didn't make her look like a boy. For crying out loud, the only reason she had shoes was because she wore them out first, and the hand-me-down boots from him were enough to keep her feet somewhat dry during the winter months. As long as she stuffed them with rags first.
Then a delicious smell began to waft through the floor boards, making her stomach roar like a lion.
"They ordered pizza again," she sobbed, putting down the sewing to squeeze herself tight by the midriff.
It didn't fool her body in the slightest. She buried her face into her 'new' clothes, since they provided more cushioning than her pillow, and just let herself cry.
Her tongue yearned to find out what pizza tasted like. It had to be amazing, if he ordered it every time her friends came over.
She was starting to forget what the word 'dinner' meant. If it weren't for the fainting spell two months ago at school, she'd have forgotten what 'food' meant.
"Once... once upon a time," she gasped into the rough material her face was buried against. "There was a lonely girl that no one cared about. No one saw her, no one heard her. Kept as a slave, she was beaten, used, and thrown to the side when she had nothing left to give."
A familiar bark reached her ears, as well as the fun laughter of teenage girls.
"Even the dog was treated better than her," Harry numbly added, gripping the pile of clothes the way she would have held onto her favorite toy.
If she had ever been allowed one, that is.
"But what no one knew, was that there was a prince in disguise roaming the land, searching for a pure-hearted maiden to be his bride. He had already met plenty of girls more than eager to be a princess but had found each and every one of them to be lacking a beautiful heart. By chance, he found the slave girl one day, and saw something in her that no one had before." A tiny smile tried to show but didn't quite manage it. "The slave girl didn't really have much to offer anyone except the ability to work and undying devotion, all for the taking in exchange for a scrap of kindness that she was starting to lose hope would ever come."
She gripped the clothes even tighter, hoping that this birthday wish would come true, even without a candle from a cake that was never hers. "Making up his mind then and there, he bought the slave girl from her undeserving master, placed the girl on his gleaming white horse, and rode off into the sunset, never looking back or regretting choosing a plain but humble girl over a bratty, selfish, spoiled, manipulative monst-"
'MOM! Wake up NOW!'
A sudden blast of pain to her head cut off the increasingly heated monologue. She let out a low hiss but managed to keep quiet other than that.
Sir hated her voice so much, he'd always double the beating if she dared to cry out when he was 'disciplining' her.
Harry's head continued to pound and throb as she opened her eyes to see a room made of stone. Her eyes turned duller, not bothering to question what she was suddenly doing here instead of in her attic.
Though she was curious about why her mouth tasted like she had resorted to eating her own socks before even bothering to wash them.
There was the familiar thud and gush of a mutilation, making her flinch instinctively. But then she realized that it was still only her head that ached.
Harry blinked and turned her head enough to see a standard rat monster, if a little bigger than usual and dressed nicely instead of naked, slashing at someone or something that she couldn't see from over here. Her eyes widened in horror as a slow gasp escaped her control.
It was worse than the usual nightmare. She didn't think anything could be worse than being attacked by a giant rat or an army of them, night after night if she dared to close her eyes when it wasn't snakes.
But this time, there was a connection around her unseen shield. She could feel it flinch and ripple with every blow the rat gave to whatever was lying at its feet. The connection was a deep one, although she admittedly didn't have anything to compare it to. No one from her town had been interested in developing such a personal bond with her. Even the children and pets she watched only lightly brushed at her second hunger sense, teasing her with only little tastes of a feast she was forever denied attendance. Yet, whatever was at the other end of this bond had given much more than that. Her second hunger sense was only fasting, not famished.
Her hands unsteadily groped for the walls of the corner she had been lying in, and her legs shakily rose her up until she was standing, though her head was still pounding with the worst headache of her life.
It was a cat. Or, the remains of a cat that had been wearing a black cloak that was now slashed and soaked in the poor thing's blood. But that wasn't stopping the rat from making as many wounds as possible, and she could see a disgusting smile of satisfaction from the side of his face for the gruesome display. The poor cat was only able to make a groan every now and again as his life's essence continued to leak out of him and onto the surrounding stones making up the floor.
"… Stop it," she whispered hoarsely.
Surprisingly, the rat did stop in mid-swing. He stayed still for only a second before slowly turning to stare at her with a wide gaping mouth, as if he had never seen a human before. "… You're awake?" he gasped in surprise before glaring down at the cat he had been mutilating. "You said she'd be out for hours!" he accused, giving the poor cat a swift kick that produced a sound like breaking bone.
The next whimper was a tired cry. That cat literally had no breath to express his pain with anymore.
"S-stop it," Harry stammered, although her legs were shaking so badly that she was forced to brace herself against the corner.
The giant rat sighed and walked away from his prey to approach her instead. His ridiculously long claws retracted back into his hands, making them look surprisingly tiny when compared to the rest of him. He spoke surprisingly gentle to her, using a handkerchief to clean the blood off his hands. "Please don't bother yourself with him. He is of no consequence to you or to me."
Harry's eyes widened as she felt his spirit desperately claw at her shield, making her instinctively tighten her hold on it.
This was definitely a worse dream than normal if a killer rat wanted a connection with her!
She took in a deep breath, forcing her head to crane back when he came right in front of her with an attempt at a charming smile that exposed too many of his sharp teeth. "L-leave… him…"
Drat it, why was talking so hard! That cat needed her help, and she was freezing up again!
"Alone?" he finished, actually laughing as he took her by the chin with an almost affectionate gesture. "I'm afraid I can't do that, dear. He was getting between us, you see, and that is the one thing I can't abide."
Harry's eyes widened in horror. He wanted that personal of a connection with her?!
"Eewww!" she screamed before gagging at the mere thought of having this creature as a boyfriend. She wanted a knight in shining armor, not a rat soaked in shining blood!
This was one of the reasons she didn't have any friends. If she didn't have time to formulate her speech, what popped out of her mouth usually sounded like a small child's honesty, which was sometimes too brutal for self-absorbed jerks to take.
That attempt at a smile immediately fell away to be replaced with an animalistic fury. In one swift movement, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the stone wall she had been using to brace herself.
'I am stone, I am rock,' Harry immediately began chanting in her head as her body automatically adjusted to getting strangled again. 'Gargoyles have no lungs, so why would I need to breathe? I am stone, I am rock.'
"You take that back!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, leaning his face close to her to maintain eye contact. "Like it or not, I am your destiny, and I will not have you talk to me like that!"
Harry could feel her senses fade in and out despite her internal mantra. She struggled to think, but her thoughts were racing by almost too quick for her to recognize what they meant.
This rat wanted her. It wanted that poor cat dead. If something wasn't done, this nightmare was going to turn far worse than just getting beaten into blood and bone pudding again.
Once a coherent action filtered through her mind, she grabbed it.
And the rat's throat.
The thick sinews of his neck were hard and impossible for her slim hand to try to damage, but they guided her fingers to the soft, tender flesh between them. She sank her digits in as deep as they could go before taking a firm grip on his windpipe.
He choked in surprise, stumbling backward and taking her for the ride since he was still choking her at the same time. He tried desperately to hold her at arm's length to break her hold, but Harry's special rat and snake mantra was rising to the front of her mind as tears escaped her control.
'My hand is stone, my hand is rock. I couldn't let go if I tried.' More tears rolled down her face as she closed her eyes to spare herself the sight of that disgusting rat struggling to breathe. It was heart-wrenching to feel his windpipe struggle and bulge against her grasp, much the way her more scaly victims did in their last moments.
Though she was grateful that this time, nothing was wrapping itself around her arm or scratching her wrists as she performed her most hated chore. She tightened her hold yet again, refusing to let go even if it killed her.
In a last-ditch attempt to get her off, the rat hurled her across the room as hard as he could.
Harry's lungs desperately gasped for air before she realized she was flying, or that she was hitting the ground. For whatever reason, part of the floor was covered with a strange sheet of metal, and her cheek found just the edge of it to leaving a stinging pain in its wake.
After landing on the stone floor, she rolled from the impact until hitting the other wall, making her fight against the groan that wanted to escape her control. Her head felt worse than ever, dealing with both the monster headache and fighting a dizzy spell from the lack of oxygen.
'Just what I need. A sore body to match my sore head.'
Knowing better than anyone could that the next attack could come at any moment, she again used the wall she was against to rise to her feet as her lungs continued to gasp painfully.
But the rat wasn't making another run for her. Instead, it was clutching at his neck, which was rapidly staining his pink and purple tie and grey vest with a dark, sticky red that wouldn't stop gushing like a fountain.
With a sinking feeling, Harry realized that her hand was covered in a warm, sticky substance. And it was still gripping something like she intended to hold it forever. She looked down, and immediately dropped the throat. She gagged in horror and disgust, since she normally went out of her way to make her kills swift and painless. But this was the first time she'd ever tried her hand at something bigger than herself.
The rat slowly lost the ability to struggle, unable to breathe or to stop the blood flow that was even more gruesome than his feline victim. He soon fell to the stone floor, trying to choke but only gushing out blood from his mouth, nose, and hollow neck.
Wiping her damp hand on the unfamiliar material covering her legs, Harry took in a deep breath to address the rat for the last time.
"I've been killing your kind since I was eight. But this one's on the house." 'Sir isn't going to find out about this one, that's for sure.'
That last look he gave her was a mangled mixture of disbelief, anger, and… heartbreak? Maybe disappointment.
The little light that had been present in his eyes disappeared, and Harry could literally feel the energy leave his body until all that was left was a husk.
But before she knew what to do, part of that spiritual essence swiftly redirected itself to her, piercing her core without warning. She stumbled backward in surprise, and patted her chest to try to find it, but it had already taken root deep within her soul.
'Oh well. Now's not the time to worry about me.' Turning to look around the table, she used her mental cloak to check on the cat.
Alive, but not for long. Between the loss of blood and the broken rib piercing one lung, there was literally nothing that could save him, even if she knew how or who to call.
Although she didn't know the first thing about him, the still-shaking teenager couldn't fight back the tears that he would soon follow the rat's path.
Harry stiffly walked closer to him, using the table to brace herself as she passed, and knelt next to the poor cat so that it wouldn't be a strain on him to look at her with those startlingly beautiful green eyes.
Her strangely long hair briefly cut off her line of vision as she stiffly forced her body to lay down next to his, but she couldn't be bothered about why her nightmare self was allowed to look like a girl. "That was for you. It isn't much," she apologized in a soft guilty whisper. "But he won't be hurting anyone else now."
A thick wave of his gratitude hit her senses like a tsunami, warmer and happier than she could have thought he'd feel at this moment, with or without the heavy tinge of pain. Even the way he was looking at her was strange. It was so full of adoration, even though they both knew she had been too late to save his life.
"… Let… lick… cheek," he managed to choke before a fresh wave of blood gushed from his throat.
Harry couldn't help but feel touched at his humble request. As someone who took care of small children and seemed to still think like a small child herself, she understood what he was trying to say.
Not even the blood pooling between them was enough to make her hesitate, not for a last request. She inched closer and offered him the cheek that wasn't stinging like crazy thanks to the tears flowing over the cut.
"Oth… er…" came the fading whisper.
Harry blinked in confusion, but obediently turned her head to a painful angle to give him access to the cheek that was bleeding a little. The little prayer she had been giving was denied as the tall ginger deliberately licked the cut she had gained, making her flinch a little.
Oh, so that's what he was up to. But shouldn't doctoring her wound be on the bottom of his priorities? He was literally dying in front of-
His body gave a violent spasm, making her swiftly rise to her knees with a cry. But that cry became a gasp at the miracle that was occurring right in front of her eyes.
The long gashes left by the giant rat were closing themselves right before her eyes! His clothing was gashed enough so that she could literally see the muscle and furry hide close in on itself without so much as a seam or a scar to hint that he had ever been touched. There was another crack as if another rib was breaking, but she couldn't help feeling certain that it was a sound of a rib returning to one piece. It reminded her of the one time she had watched a movie go in the reverse before teacher knew how to work the VCR, and a large mess had sprung up to clean itself and leave no trace of the chaos that had happened.
Within seconds, the cat was still lying in a puddle of his own blood, and his black clothing was still ripped and tattered, but the cream and orange-colored fur underneath looked as perfect and untouched as a work of art. Even his energy was returning to him faster than she could fill a jug with water.
She had to admit that it was a thrilling thing to sense, like a pleasant tickle along one side of her conscience.
The cat sat up with relief, briefly checking his limbs before springing to his feet. "I… I feel incredible!" he exclaimed, twirling once in place with a freedom that made him seem reborn. "I think a good decade's been shaved off me!"
Harry could only stare in shock. She wanted to think, but somehow, watching him seemingly heal after nothing had happened had silenced her inner voice as well as her physical one.
The ginger stepped out of the puddle of his own blood, wincing a bit at the sight and his own blood-smeared footprints on the ground before turning to look at her with nothing but devotion in his eyes. "Thank you. For a moment there, I thought both of us were done for."
Harry couldn't help noticing that although his eyes and manner were alight with renewed energy and life, his expression was blank and indifferent. "What's wrong with your face?" she asked without thinking that it might be impolite.
The light in his eyes seemed to burn even brighter. "The rat you killed had me under an obedience spell, and he hated my happiness with a passion."
Harry looked over her shoulder once, although she already knew that her blow had been a fatal one. "He's dead, you don't have to obey him anymore," she pointed out, surprised that he hadn't noticed that yet.
A second change overcame him, almost more breathtaking than the miraculous healing he had gone through.
That feline mouth wasted no time splitting into a wide grin that nearly gave off sparks, and he leaned down to grab her by the waist and swing her in the air, never minding her yelp of surprise.
Her hands automatically fell onto his shoulders to keep herself steady, as if they had done so a hundred times before. Was this what dancing felt like?
"You beautiful, amazing miracle!" he laughed, only bringing her down again to wrap her into his arms.
Harry's eyes widened in shock, even as her body relaxed of its own accord at his touch. She had never been spoken to like this, or held like this before, but…
Had she? This felt so familiar.
It felt like coming home.
There was no stopping herself. Since her hands were still on his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his neck and held on tight, her face burying itself into the soaked and tattered remains of his shirt as well as the exposed chest fur. She had to stand on the very tips of her toes to do it thanks to their height difference, but she didn't mind.
"How do you always know just the right thing to say?!" the cat demanded while taking an affectionate lick against her hair.
Harry couldn't think of something to say to that. For now, she was content with soaking in the cat's love and adoration greedily while offering her own in return.
He accepted it just as greedily, they could both feel that.
That is what decided things for her. As vivid as her imagination could sometimes get, this left all her previous ideas on what being held and accepted felt like in the dust.
"…You're real," she whispered against the soft white chest fur, even though it was impossible. "This wasn't another nightmare."
"That's right, my friend," he assured her, getting in a second lick to her hair before spitting in disgust. "My apologies. My blood is all over you." Waving one hand nonchalantly, a pure white handkerchief appeared so that he could relax his hold just enough press it against the wound on her cheek. "Are there any other injuries?" he asked worriedly.
Harry looked down at their feet, only now wondering why she was wearing a long brown dress that was partially dripping in cat and rat blood instead of second-hand plaid and jeans. "My head hurts," she admitted, feeling strangely safe with telling him she was in pain. "My everything hurts, but my head hurts worst."
He flinched in guilt. "Ah, yes. It would. My apologies about that, but-" he stopped himself short in order to shake his head furiously.
Once the strange cat's head was clear, he tried again. "Here's the much-abbreviated version of what's going on; we are thirty years ahead from the time you know. I am a cat from another dimension that the rat behind you enslaved to help win your favor, but then I found out he was lying about your better qualities and we became very close. He was jealous that you liked me better than him, so he forced me to erase enough of your mind so that you would be more pliable to his demands." He held both of her hands against his chest with one hand, since the other was keeping pressure on the cut on her cheek. "I hope you will believe me when I say that I fought as much as I could not to do it, and I am very sorry about hurting you. I never would have done such a thing to anyone of my own volition."
Harry stared blankly, using her old mental game of guessing what a word means based on the sentence to figure out what 'volition' meant. 'Free will'? "… Thirty years?" she whispered, not sure if she could believe this strange cat.
Her instincts said he was the first trustworthy person she'd ever met, but thirty years?
He nodded and told her the date. "Happy forty-sixth birthday." Then he blinked before looking at her sternly and releasing her hands. "Now that I think of it, how did you wake up so quickly? Not that I'm proud of it, but the trauma I invoked on your mind should have left you comatose for a bare minimum of five hours. How on any dimension did you wake up so soon?"
Harry held her hands to the sides of her head, trying to remember. "… There... was a scream. A little girl was crying for her mother to wake up. It hit me like a thunder bolt." Then she froze and frantically looked around the stone room that felt like a prison. "Is there a little girl trapped in this place, wherever we are? We should find her, and her mother! They might be in trouble!"
Not wasting a second, she ran for the big heavy door just beyond the cat.
It was like something out of a castle, since the mere weight of the door felt as heavy as an entire table, but Harry had never been afraid of working up a sweat for a small child that needed her. She heaved stubbornly on the metal ring that served for a handle.
Just when she had gotten the door two inches, the cat's black-gloved hand came down on the wood over her head, easing the door shut again. Harry looked over at him in surprise, which turned to confusion when she saw the way he was gaping at her.
"That little girl is completely safe, my friend. You made her leave the castle three days ago on my strong advice so that the rat couldn't use her against you or me." The cat slowly began shaking his head in amazement. "One of these days, I'm going to stop underestimating the bond you share with your daughter."
Harry's mouth dropped open like a drawbridge.
The cat gave her a very gentle smile before leaning over slightly to nuzzle her hair again. "Thirty years is a long time. You didn't think you were still going to be alone, did you?"
"… Daughter?" she whispered, almost unable to believe it. She'd always wanted to be a mother, but deep down, she had never been all that certain that the time would come.
A daughter. A little girl of her very own.
What was she like?
Was she pretty?
Was she kind?
Did she share Harry's deep love for stories?
A goofy smile overtook her face at the one question she didn't have to ask.
Did Harry's years of abuse turn her into an abusive parent herself? They couldn't have, if her little girl was that afraid of losing her. But how did she make herself heard without drawing the rat's attention? Did her little girl have… magic?
Her heart skipped wildly at the thought. Did she ever show off her gifts to her mother? What else could she do?
A sudden chill gripped her heart. Who had she married to produce a magical child? And what had happened to her husband in order for this mess to happen? Did that rat murder him to clear a path for himself?
What had he been like? Had it been a good marriage? Had she still been mourning him when all this happened?
A gentle touch at her elbow reminded her that she wasn't alone. She flinched in guilt, but the gentle smile was still on her feline friend's face said loud and clear that he wasn't angry with her for accidentally ignoring him.
Instead, he offered her a proper gentleman's bow. "May I have the pleasure of reintroducing you to your pride and joy?" he asked with the upmost courtesy.
"Yes, please," Harry nearly swooned as tears of happiness stung her cut cheek again, but now she didn't care.
She had a daughter! A real family of her very own!
The orange and cream cat offered her his arm, and only her books and the rare movie from history class informed her of how to place her hand on it. "I want it understood that you are free to visit the Human World any time you wish," he informed her while briefly nuzzling her brow again. "I am not your keeper, I am your friend. No matter what happens from here, I won't allow anything to change that. You are far too important to me."
Such sweet words. Harry had only dreamed they'd one day be directed at her! She carefully restrained herself from a pinch test, because if all this was only a dream, she had no interest of rejoining the real world. Instead, she tightened her grip on the cat's arm, almost feeling like she could die of happiness right then and there.
He gazed at her fondly before looking back at the corpse, coldly smug before addressing it. "The reason it's a partnership when the male is the head of the family, is because the female is the heart of it. Each is incomplete without the other. Pity you never realized that."
"Huh?" Harry couldn't help asking as his free arm sharply slashed through the empty air to make a distant shatter ring through both the air and her senses.
He gave her a smile that was effortlessly charming when compared to the rat's. "Just getting in the last word in one of the many disagreements we had with him. Shall we?" he asked as he slashed the air again to make a large blue circle of light appear before them right in front of where the table was.
Harry jumped in surprise, but now she was beside herself with excitement to see the kind of child she had raised. "We shall," she answered with a large silly smile on her face.
She couldn't help noticing how right it felt, walking by this cat's side as they stepped as one through the blue light.
ooOoo
The large screen went blank a few seconds after the blue portal faded into nothing, signaling the end of the movie.
Despite the extremely exclusive viewing, the modest crowd stull burst into a thunderous applause, screaming their approval that there had been a happy ending, after all.
"Is that really where you're going to end the movie?" Superman asked Batman while polishing off his popcorn, turning in his cushy seat enough to look at the row behind him. "Before she falls head over heels for Yuki all over again?"
"There's not much choice. Drac didn't manage to outfit Baron's home dimension with stealth cameras." A tiny smile showed up on the side of his mouth. "This is the unedited version, of course. I'm going to make it look like true love's kiss is what restored Baron's health for the public version of the movie."
"True love's lick?" the Flash countered with a grin when he was done sipping his soda. "Just edit out the blood and his asking for the other cheek, and it'll be fine."
"That is the plan," Bruce confirmed, since he was halfway through editing the official version of the movie on his own. He smiled as he thought about how right Haru had been; without the best outtakes, the movie was barely passable. Haru's thorough thrashing of the director was absolutely going into the final cut, as well as the kiss that had made the sweet star realize that she could fall in love, after all.
All of her true fans would be willing to pay triple just to see her not use a stunt double for that part! Not to mention it would be a fitting final slap in the face to that rat for the whole world to see how badly his schemes had backfired.
Mera was tapping the armrest between her and her daughter nervously. "How did Baron find out about her blood, again? Haru knows… knew enough not to tell him anything that important when he was under the rat's power."
"He told me it was a lucky guess," Batman supplied, his own hands resting empty of refreshment for the moment. He secretly hated eating in what he considered his work clothes. "Drac had experimented with her hair to look like that when he wanted her blood, so he knew something was different about her. Baron told me that it was all he could think of at that moment, he had literally nothing left to lose, and knew a last kiss was too much to hope for when she was reduced to a child again. An even younger one, that is," he admitted sadly. 'A child like that should never have been that used to killing, dream sequence or no.'
"Were her affairs in order?" Green Lantern asked, standing up from his chair to stretch his legs gratefully.
"Yes," Batman sighed, still lost in his own thoughts. "She had everything in place shortly after adopting Yuki. If something happened to only Haru, her daughter would inherit everything. If both of them were to be lost to this world's understanding, the Refuge and its contents would be owned jointly by Dick and Tim. Her money would be spread through certain charities, and I could have whatever trinkets of hers that I want. But I already know for a fact that Baron and his cohorts have already gone through her home and taken most of the worthwhile things with them to her new home."
Arthur Jr, now a teenager, fidgeted in his seat before nervously asking, "Aunt Haru is happy there, isn't she?"
Batman managed a smile at the little glimpses he had been allowed since Baron had informed him of Drac's demise. "Happier than she could have once imagined. She's not the same Haru we knew, but she is the same treasure she always was. Baron makes sure that she and Yuki visit us every now and again so that the boys and I don't worry about them. Haru finds the visits a little awkward without the bulk of her memories, but she'll be all right. Baron will see to that."
"I can't wait to show her relatives that even without James, she's stronger than all of them put together!" Aquaman sighed mournfully although he knew he should have been thrilled at such a glowing report for one he loved as a sister. "Well. Then I guess there's just one problem left."
Mera smiled up at him while tightening her arm around their own Haru, who was just budding on the edge of becoming a teenager herself. "And what is that, your majesty?"
Nightwing stared up at the black screen and answered in a dead voice for one and all. "How much we're going to miss her."
xxXxx
A/N: If I were mean, or even lazy, this would be the last chapter. But since the main story wasn't about the struggle with Drac, there's more!
And yes, I stole the last exchange from Disney's The Little Mermaid. I've been plotting to do it almost since the beginning.