Authors' Note: Sorry for the delay - this one required a lot of thought to hit the right emotional notes.


The last show of the KLK tour before the Christmas break was in Phoenix. Feeling thin and fraying, Kala powered through it, holding on to the knowledge that she didn't have to do this again until the second week of January. Of course, that kicked off with four shows in Las Vegas, the most they'd ever done in one city. It was Vegas, though, and Sin City was built on extravagant entertainment.

But that wouldn't be until after her good, long break; there was plenty of time to worry about it in January. This close to the home-stretch, all that mattered was that they close out the year with a good show. It was almost a relief that Phoenix hadn't quite sold out, but the venue was still pretty packed, and Kala had been determined to sing this last venue with all her heart. To remind herself why she did this, despite the the chaos that had been the last few months. Just get out there and revel in what she did, what she could accomplish, even if there was one voice instead of two.

With a rallying cry backstage, all of them rushed the darkened stage, the aggressive opening riff of Everyone's Fool roaring over her before the lights blazed to life, Kala's voice soaring out of the darkness. At this point, they knew the set backwards and forwards, so the decision was made that they would all take their cues from Morgan, the set-list on rotation at his whim tonight. It was fairly common for them at this point in a tour, keeping the performance fresh, the anticipation keeping them all alert and at peak. Hell, Morgan even snuck Torn in there, not to mention Big Mistake, both hard rocking solos of hers from a couple of years ago; Kala laughed aloud into the mic when she realized what he was doing. The change brought the energy back up, she and the boys grinning at each other like fiends, the fans roaring in reaction to the band's animation. This, this was why she did this, calling out to the audience with only the sound of her voice, the force of her words. Letting herself get lost in the music when Morgan lead them all into a dark, guitar-driven version of Shatter Me, letting herself project all of her emotions into the song. They closed out the set with their own What You Want, the four of them rocking it as hard as they could.

Then there were the encores, which KLK had always made a habit of doing fun cover songs, usually something completely out of their own genre. The fans loved it, the songs chosen really were a spontaneous thing, and it was refreshing to change up from their own style sometimes. The first encore was a hard-edged cover of Jimmy Eat World's hit song, The Middle; it was always nice to pay homage to a local band and it was a hell of a lot of fun to spin it their own way, losing most of the pop-shininess for sheer power. They had another very popular tune, Pain, but Kala didn't want to sing a breakup song tonight. Her last call with Sebast was too much on her mind, and her feelings for Jay were too immense to contemplate. Better to sing about doing your best and living for yourself, not caring what others thought. That was a message everyone needed to hear.

She knew she was going to have to sing about Jay, though; better to address it than pretend it wasn't happening. That video in Denver had started a bunch of debate and speculation on the fan forums. Kala had finally gone online, and laughed at all the 'evidence' supporting the most popular suspects. Amusingly, no one suspected another singer – one small but determined faction insisted the man she was kissing had to be the recently-signed running back for the Denver Broncos, for God's sake. There were also suspicions cast toward several popular actors, including the snarky brother from the vampire show. Kala had looked him up and there was a bit of a resemblance; it was made even better knowing that Red would be horrified if she told him. By now, the original footage had been altered everywhere it cropped up online, and it was possible to make an argument for just about anyone with dark hair.

To everyone's surprise, the incident hadn't faded away. Kala was typically very private about her love affairs; the summer appearances with Dick left an impression, but she'd never said she was dating him. The whole time she'd been with Marlene, the fan forums tried to pair her with everyone she'd ever been photographed with twice. Kala herself had started a rumor under a fake username that she was secretly dating another singer known for her breakup albums. It had been meant as a joke, but she'd actually been asked in interviews for her opinion on both Taylor Swift and Adele. Kala had turned the question aside by quoting the popular meme that suggested they date each other, split up, and create the greatest breakup albums of all time. It had gotten her some online hate from Swift's dedicated (and possibly rabid) fanbase, but rumor had it that someone had told Adele, who found it hilarious.

At least it wasn't newsworthy to suggest she'd date a woman. Kala had handled that early in her career, singing Melissa Etheridge covers in Kansas City. In interviews after, she'd made it clear that her support for the community wasn't just because her best friend and co-singer was gay. She just didn't publicize relationships, whether with men or women.

Now, though, her 'mystery man' was still a topic of conversation months after the original video, and someone had leaked the incidents of Kala not being in her room or turning up almost-late, because everyone seemed to think she was still sneaking off to see her secret lover. Kala wanted to end the encores with a cover that would speak to the issue.

She ran through a cover of Tori Amos' Spark, and when the energy level began to wane, she leaned in to the mic. "All right, Phoenix, I'd love to stay up here forever, but you know we've gotta go," she called out, and got a greedy roar in response. They didn't want her to leave, they wanted every ounce of her voice and spirit they could get, and for now, she loved them for it even while she found this side of her life exhausting.

Kala laughed, giving a dramatic groan that drew another cheer, and said with a indulgent grin and a sigh, "Okay, fine, one more song for the road. Just one more. One. Phoenix, we love you!" And that was the boys' cue.

The song she'd chosen started almost a cappella, just a little percussion and Kala's vocals soaring in a passable imitation of Florence Welch – though no one in the industry had a voice quite like hers. She'd picked this song for the chorus, which she hoped Jay would know was being sung directly to him, and for its second verse. In some ways it echoed her own song, Anything for You, with the theme of surrendering everything for love.

Leaning into the mic, Kala closed her eyes, investing every last drop of emotion into the lyrics as she hit that second verse. "I wish to remain nameless, and live without shame, 'Cause what's in a name, oh I still remain the same. You can call it what you want, you can call me anything you want. You can call us what you want, you can call me anything you want…"

The crowd went wild as the instrumentals came in and she opened up her lungs to the limit of her ability. Again, she lost herself to the music, letting all of this with the two of them paint the emotion in the lyrics. It was the closest she could say how she felt to his face without the consequences; funny, how it was easier to tell it to a crowd of thousands the way she felt than one gun-shy Bat. Kala had to grin at that before losing herself to the beat again. "Call me when you need me," she sang as if Jay were right there within reach of her voice. "Call me anything you want. Darling, believe me, nothing I haven't done before…"

The rest of the song was an almost hypnotic chant, alternating between "Call me when you need me" and "Darling, believe me". Half the crowd was singing it along with her by the end, and it felt as electric as her very first performance, the very first time she'd linked into the connection between music and singer and audience. Kala still remembered that moment: she'd been so caught up in stage fright that she'd forgotten her lyrics, contemplating a career as an accountant, her palms sweating and her knees shaking.

And then something inside her had risen up and blown the fear away. Defiance, courage, sheer stubborn contrariness, it was the distilled essence of Lane in her heart that threw off the anxiety, a cloak of calm descending over her. She'd turned her voice loose and sung a Britney Spears song to a Goth club … and people had sung along.

That had been the very beginning, and Kala promised herself they'd practice Circus before the first show in Vegas. It was time to bring that one out of retirement for the encores.

Kala held the last note on Remain Nameless as long as she could, closing her eyes as she finished it with a slow smile and opened her eyes to wink at the audience. Again, that deafening approval, applause and cries from around the arena. Turning, she called out the boys, each by name, all of them high on the adrenaline and grabbing hands. Raising their arms in triumph, Kala called out, "You've been incredible, Phoenix! Thank you so much! It's been an awesome night! See you in Vegas! Thank you, all, and good night!" For a few moments, they lingered, catching hands in the front row, pumping fists and throwing their arms up and out in acknowledgment of the adulation that poured back at them before the stage lights lowered and they could escape offstage, all of them slowing to a jog once they were out of sight.

Because of the timing, the label had agreed to no backstage event this time, only a few fans to greet and sign for, so after about fifteen minutes of meet-and-greet, they could all change clothes and crawl off to the hotel. So very nearly there. Once they had seen the last person happily out, Kala leaned against the wall in the green room and let out a huge sigh. "I don't believe it; no anything for the next three weeks. I can't believe it, but we made it, guys."

"Thank God," Ned muttered, arming sweat off his forehead.

There were several mutters of agreement with that. "Not gonna lie, this has been a helluva long slog," Morgan said, nodding to Kala. Seeing as he had been with her and Sebast from early on, he remembered the longest of the band's tours. Morgan would know from experience. "But you're right, we made it through pretty much kinda intact. You know I love you idiots, but I'm gonna be so glad to get home this time. Sorry, Kala."

That prompted snorts of amusement from all of them. Yeah, no easy road had the last two months been, to say nothing of the entire tour so far. "No offense and dear God, same," Kala laughed, with feeling. She'd kept her holiday plans vague, so the others would think she was running off to meet her boyfriend before she headed home of the big family annual get-together. And so Morgan, much as she loved him, wouldn't offer to share a flight with her. After being pretty much under lock and key since Derek left, Kala was looking forward to soaking up the sun as soon as possible, and then finally going home. As much as she truly did love this vagabond life she lead, she could never remember looking forward to a breather so much.

Sebast had left for Ponce this morning, and she had their house all to herself. Though she had reservations and didn't lie to herself about it, Kala couldn't deny that she was looking forward to collapsing into her own bed and sleeping for like three whole days, followed by a long soak in a full-sized tub in which the water would rise above her hips. Maybe she'd only live in the tub for a day; that was a lie, it would easily be two since she couldn't prune. The thought made her sigh happily, doubled when she realized that there would be no road-food until next month. Yeah, she could die delirious over that fact.

But the band had one more pre-holiday-break tradition, and she wouldn't miss it for the world. "Okay, all. On the bus, to the hotel, to the showers, and into the bed. Five hours to sleep like the dead before we feast. Morgan, Ned got to pick it last year, so it's your turn to pick where we go for breakfast," she said.

"Already got one in mind," he replied with a grin as they all headed out the stage door of the venue, Ned reaching over to pull Robb into an affectionate headlock as they went, Robb squawking theatrically as they scuffled. Morgan just shook his head and he and Kala shared an eye-roll as he followed them out. Pausing for a moment, Kala watched them go. Her boys. Life hadn't always been easy; but somehow they always managed to pull through as a group. They made it work. And if she and Sebast could figure their situation out, so much the better. They'd weather it, they always did. No matter what came next, they had managed to make it through to Arizona even with all the obstacles that had been thrown at them, and she couldn't be more proud of them. They had all earned this. One last big breakfast together, probably including dozens of ridiculous pictures of them all together to show off to their families, and then they'd go their separate ways for the holidays. They were going to be okay, she thought with a warm smile.

With a little laugh, Kala followed the boys out. No matter what, they were all going to be just fine.

Steph was still annoyed with Cass, that she'd even considered not telling her about the message from Babs. But she'd come clean in the end, and after a furious debate including several emails back and forth to Babs herself, Steph had reluctantly concluded that they had to stay in Libya.

The cold truth was, Gotham was getting more dangerous by the day. Joker had set a bounty on Harley Quinn's head, and every day that it wasn't met, Joker got angrier. So far he had bombed a library, committed some gruesome murders, and firebombed the arboretum. That last was a move calculated to draw Poison Ivy out of hiding, and Steph was frankly terrified that anyone would want to fight with her. Then again, Joker was crazy.

Even Babs admitted that in light of that last one, she and Cass should stay put. No way did she want them in the middle of a war between Ivy and Joker. She'd rather they leave Libya and wait someplace safer, like Metropolis, but neither of them would sit around twiddling their thumbs while they could be working. And Cass wasn't going to leave her mother's trail until they knew what Shiva wanted.

So they stayed, and were very circumspect. They'd moved their surveillance to the Tribesti mountains, where the League of Shadows apparently had a compound. Which meant she and Cass were camping out, moving from place to place, eavesdropping in villages. They couldn't risk approaching anyone – strangers in the area would undoubtedly be reported to the League. Babs was lending them all the support she could via satellite images of their surroundings. They'd already spotted a few familiar faces from their earlier surveillance in the area, so they knew they were on the right track.

Tonight they'd gotten lucky, and found an abandoned house to stay in. It did get chilly at night, and Steph was glad of a roof over her heard. Cass had put their bedrolls in the most defensible room, and as they curled up to sleep – no matter how annoyed she might be with her girlfriend, sharing body heat was a necessity at this point, and Steph wasn't the type to give the cold shoulder anyway – she set an alarm on her watch.

Doing so meant she saw the date, and Steph just laid there stunned until Cass rolled over. They didn't dare use a light, and there was only moonlight outside, creeping through the windows just enough to show her the outline of Cass' head as she looked at her curiously.

She knew what Cass would ask, anyway. "I just realized what day it is," she said mournfully. "I … Cass, if something doesn't give soon, we're gonna end up spending Christmas like this. Maybe New Year's too."

It didn't feel like Christmas, without snow. Hell, even the coldest nights were only in the forties, and the days were in the sixties, sometimes seventies. That was spring weather for Steph, or maybe autumn. Not Christmas at all.

Not the last few years had been very Christmasy, either. At least in the camp in South Sudan, she had plenty to keep her busy and keep her from obsessing about it. Some of the missionaries in the area tried to push people to celebrate the holiday, but Steph felt weird about that. There were almost as many religious traditions as languages in the camp, and she didn't want to impose on anyone. She managed to get presents for and from Doc Leslie and Cass and a couple of the staff members who appreciated it, but it had been years since she'd seen snow.

Cass looked at her solemnly, then looked around the house they were staying in. "Have to move," she finally said. "No chimney."

It took Steph a beat to realize what she meant, and then she was laughing, burying her face in Cass' shoulder to stifle it. She was the one who'd explained the whole Santa Claus thing to Cass in the first place, who'd had all kinds of logical questions about it. Trying to figure out how Santa got to kids in apartments – was a radiator enough like a chimney? Why did rich kids get better gifts? – had made Steph wonder how she'd ever believed the story.

Laughter cleared the air, and made the danger they faced and the homesickness she felt more bearable. Steph snuggled up to Cass with a sigh. "I'm glad I have you."

"Why?" Cass asked quietly.

Anyone else, Steph would've assumed they were fishing for compliments. Cass asked genuinely – and perhaps with some regret. She was perfectly aware that the only reason Steph hadn't followed Doc Leslie home to Gotham was her.

Steph leaned in, finding Cass' cold nose in the dark and then placing a gentle kiss on the bridge of it. "I could be flip and say you're a whole lot better at this than me – I'd be in big trouble trying to do this without you. But really, Cass? I'm always glad to have you. You make me happy."

Silence answered her for a long moment, until Cass tilted her face up and kissed her lips. Slow and thoughtful, as if love were another language she'd learned with much care and patience. When Cass pulled back, Steph murmured, "That's not the only way you make me happy."

"You should be happy," Cass told her softly. "You deserve … happiness, in all ways."

"So do you," Steph reminded her. "And part of why I love you is because you believe that about me. Maybe that's what love is, ultimately. Wanting every kind of happiness for someone else."

No sound but their mingled breaths as Cass thought about it. "Glad you're here. Also, want you safe. Here is not safe."

"No, it's not. But nowhere is. And I'm not going to let you face Shiva alone." On that point, Steph knew that no amount of martial arts could stop her. She had out-stubborned the Bat himself; Cass was no match for her determination. No one was. There were better detectives, better fighters, better trackers, better leaders in the extended Bat-family, and Steph knew it too well. But Bruce and Babs and Tim had all said two things about her that she was certain were true, the more so because she'd overheard it instead of being told directly. Steph had more heart than anyone else, and more sheer tenacity. She clung to those two facts fiercely, because especially since she'd crossed Black Mask, she was never going to be the best at some of that other stuff.

Cass didn't have a response to that. She did, however, have an idea for how they could both stay warm, and she didn't even need words to suggest it.

On the whole, staying at the Manor was wise. It meant Jay didn't have to watch his own back, but he was confident of his security even against Joker. However, he was also aware that the Clown didn't have practical considerations like most people. If he wanted to get around Jay's extensive security, setting fire to the building would do it. And Joker was getting awfully dramatic lately. Talk about a bad break-up, he was clearly mad as hell and trying to make everyone pay for it.

Jay was glad not to have to worry about it. All his data was backed up, and he'd brought all his essentials to the Manor. But if he let himself think of it as being chased from his home turf, he'd head right back to the bunker and sit up with a sniper rifle until Joker showed his ugly face.

Instead he focused on the benefits. He got to annoy Tim, who really needed to get out more. He got to hear updates from Bruce and Babs more quickly, too. But the best reason to stick around was Alfred – and Alfred's cooking. The butler was really striving to outdo himself this holiday season, and it felt like they had one of Jay's favorites every night.

Maybe that was just because most of his favorite foods were Alfred's recipes. The height of his culinary experience before meeting Batman had been Hamburger Helper. After his near-death, he'd had everything from haute cuisine in Paris to kobe beef in Japan, but by then his favorite foods were already mostly established. And Alfred knew them all.

Besides, Kala hadn't been able to swing by in a while, and his fridge was looking pretty bare. He didn't even know where half that stuff was in the stores.

Jay tried to help out by cleaning up after meals, and any other chores he could take off Alfred's shoulders. Which was why he was in the kitchen this early, washing dishes. You'd think a place like Wayne Manor would have a top of the line dishwasher, but at some point Bruce had heard that having chores built responsibility, and so the only dishwasher in the house was generally a former or current Robin. Funny way to do things, but hell, the task itself was simple and soothing.

Or at least, it was. Until Jay abruptly realized he wasn't alone in the kitchen. He didn't question the knowledge, not caring if it was a change in air pressure or some tiny sound that alerted him. He just whirled around, and the kris was in his hand without him even needing to think about drawing it.

Donna raised her eyebrows, and then slowly raised her hands. "Little jumpy?" she asked.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," Jay said, lowering the knife. "You know better than to sneak up on me, Donna."

She sighed, and walked up to him, picking up a clean dish towel on the way. "One, I wasn't sneaking. I just got out of the habit of clearing my throat every time I enter a room. Two, I come in peace. Don't stab the help, okay?"

"Shit, you're a lot more than the help," Jay said with a little laugh, putting the kris away. And wasn't this weird as hell, doing dishes with Troia?

His relationship with her had been the only time he'd gotten domestic. Like, grocery shopping and taking out the garbage on Tuesday nights kind of domestic. Sure, Kala stocked his fridge and occasionally cooked, but he couldn't see Kala ever purchasing a minivan. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she owned a car. Why would she need one, the way she flew?

Kala's 'normal' life, her day job, was a literal fucking rock star. Donna wanted much more normalcy than that. Donna had probably been a great PTA mom. She would've watched those video channels that were all crafts that parents and kids could do together. If her son had lived, she would've jumped on the slime craze and made the stuff with him.

If her son had lived, Robert would be out in the living room with Lian right now, under Roy's watchful eye, probably pestering her because that's what little brothers did.

Then again, if her husband had lived, she wouldn't be anywhere near Wayne Manor. Terry Long wanted normalcy, too. Oh, Jay figured he had liked the exotic spice of shacking up with Wonder Girl – Jay himself had found that exciting – but ultimately Terry seemed like the kind of guy who wondered why a man couldn't come home to find dinner on the table and a freshly-poured martini waiting for him. The kind of man who'd get his kicks asking Troia to rub his feet.

Fucking moron, if that was true.

The best part of being with Donna, for Jay, had been shaking her up a little and making her have fun with all the powers and shit. Making her laugh, getting her to ease up a little on the whole 'responsible for saving the world since before I was old enough to drive' thing she had going on. Letting her cut loose, and proving he wouldn't run from or scold her for it or try to change what she was. She was a literal fucking demigoddess, an Amazon, a hero, a power in her own right. Smart and tough and funny, plus the sort of gentle that only came from having been hurt a few hundred times too many.

Jay only had two problems with Donna. The whole domestic thing, he either would've gotten used to that, or bounced and called it fundamental incompatibility. It wasn't a problem, as he saw it. No, the only things he saw as problems were her total hang-up about Dick, and her favorite unhealthy coping mechanism of retreating to self-righteous rules-lawyering. When in doubt, Donna toed the line – and when she was afraid, she'd harangue everyone else into doing the same. Jay was all about pushing the line, or accelerating over it.

He'd seen plenty of that while they skipped across worlds, but he'd thought she would settle down some back on their Earth, with reliable backup. No such luck. Trying to be normal was just another part of that, like she could somehow keep herself safe by pretending to be a perfectly average person.

Jay hadn't realized he'd slipped into reminiscing until Donna asked, "What're you thinking, Jay? I can hear the gears turning."

"You first," he said, not wanting to tell her he'd been thinking about them. Or comparing her to Kala, who like him tended to accelerate over any lines drawn in the sand.

Donna sighed. "Remember Kara Zor-El."

He gave a short laugh, at that. "Still miss her? Should've told her you had such a crush."

She chipped his ankle, very lightly. "Don't be a jerk. I wonder sometimes if Argo survived, in our world, and just hasn't crossed paths with us yet."

"Clark went out there to what's left of Krypton. He would've seen Argo City, if was anywhere along the route," Jay told her. Reminded her, really, Donna should've known.

"Yes, but … it's not just Kara. All of those people. They lost an entire culture, Jay. In their world, they had one Kryptonian who actually lived on Krypton. Clark … it's a distant memory, for him." She shrugged.

Jay nodded, thinking. "They've still got a lot of their culture. You ever been to the Fortress of Solitude?"

Even as he asked, he realized the answer. "Diana has, not me. Wait … when did you go? I think only Bruce and maybe Barry have been up there."

He focused on the pot he was scrubbing for a moment. "Kala took me up there. She wanted me to see the history. There's recordings – lots of recordings. Artifacts, well, I guess more reconstructions. And an artificial intelligence based on her grandfather, who very much did live on Krypton. It's not all gone, Donna."

"Wow," was all she could say, and he couldn't tell if she was impressed or jealous.

He decided to lead her off topic a little, if he could. "They have an accent, did you know? Well, the sentence structure thing is more obvious, but it counts. Even when she spoke English to her AI grandpa, Kala sounded different. Almost Shakespearean."

"I've heard Clark speak very formally," Donna mused.

"Yeah, that's part of it, the formal thing. But there's also a little bit of an accent. Sounds posh British, a little more crisp than American. Apparently Kala's almost more fluent than her dad. She was one of those overachiever kids, wanted to get everything right." He passed her the pot, and started on the utensils.

"I didn't know that about her," Donna mused. "But knowing it now explains why she took it so hard when I thundered at her."

"Yeah, well, she tends to want approval. I'm breaking her of that, by the way. Don't be surprised if she smacks you in the mouth when she gets here." Jay knew perfectly well that Kala wouldn't do such a thing, not without provocation. Warning Donna was meant to prevent the provocation from being given in the first place. There was still plenty of resentment lurking there, and some of it was because of his history with Donna.

Donna waved the towel at him. "Stop it, Jay. I created the problem with Kala, and I will fix it. You might be surprised to realize I can function socially without you holding my hand. I managed for a long time while you were still in hot pants."

"Shit, if I'm your social adviser, you're well and truly fucked," Jay laughed, and flicked water at him. "Also, that's cute. Shame on you for noticing my hot pants, I was so underage."

Her jaw dropped in shock, and Donna snapped the towel at him. "Jay! You … you … ugh, why are you like this?!"

"Because that look on your face is goddamn hilarious," he retorted, grabbing the sprayer. Not spraying her with it, that would be a bad idea, but enough to make the point that he wasn't just gonna tamely accept being swatted.

Donna, however, picked up a ladle and hefted it threateningly. His years of training helpfully informed him that it probably was a lethal weapon, in her hands. "Yeah? The look on your face right now is pretty funny, too."

"You smack me, Wonder-Bra, and Alfred's gonna be real pissed when I get water all over his kitchen," Jay warned, his finger curling around the trigger of the sprayer.

She looked at him, ladle in one hand and the towel in the other, and suddenly burst out laughing. "You are impossible!"

At least she put the ladle down, and he returned the sprayer to its intended use rinsing dishes. "Yeah, well, so are you. Forget sword and shield, Wonder Girl's favorite weaponry includes cutlery and dish towel."

Donna' expression turned wistful, for some reason, and she said softly, "You always were good at helping me see the humor in things."

"That's me, comic relief," Jay replied. "Killing drug dealers was just a sideline."

"No, killing drug dealers was a means to an end," Donna said. "You've stopped killing people, anyway."

"Or I've just gotten a lot better at hiding the bodies," Jay said flippantly.

Donna, however, continued seriously. "Stuffing a bunch of heads into a bag and then presenting that bag to their superiors was not even hiding bodies badly. It was done for effect. Shock and awe. It's a wartime tactic to intimidate the opposition, and you conducted your first run through Gotham like a war."

Jay could only stare at her for a moment. "People forget the League of Shadows isn't just assassins. They're warriors, too."

"People forget that all Amazons are warriors, but I don't forget it," Donna replied.

"Neither did I," Jay told her.

She smiled at that, and he couldn't help the comparison. Kala would've given him a snarky grin, but Donna's smile was softer. Because Donna had fewer sharp edges in her personality, maybe, or just more time to smooth them out. Personally, he liked Kala's sharpness. Donna just said, "That was half of what you liked about me. The other half, I think, was the sparkly v-neck uniform."

"I admit, it had an effect on an impressionable young Robin," Jay laughed.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dried his hands and took it out, smiling affectionately at Kala's name topping the list of his messages. Opening it, he read, FREEDOM! Last show over, just finished eating breakfast with the boys. I'm getting some sun and heading HOME.

Jay sent back, About damn time. Fly safe, Princess.

Don't I always? She had to be laughing as she shot that back.

Hell no, you NEVER do. Try not to hit any satellites. Wouldn't want you to damage that sweet Kryptonian ass. Jay laughed under his breath, knowing she'd roll her eyes at that one.

Her reply to that was just as snarky as ever. My detachable ass is safely in Gotham right now, so that should be fine. I'll sneak over as soon as I can, even if it's just for the evening.

She'd been calling him an ass literally since they met; Jay had fond associations with that snarled, 'trigger-happy asshole,' now. So he just replied, Can't wait. Your ass should be right behind you at all times. I do like the view.

Miss you, Big Bad, she sent back after a moment.

Miss you too, was all he trusted himself to say.

Jay looked up from his phone and saw Donna staring at him with her eyebrows raised. "Kala, right? You don't smile like that at anyone else."

"Not true. I smile at messages from GrubHub bringing me dinner," Jay retorted.

"Not like that," she said, gently insistent. A pause, and Donna continued, "I notice Kala's new uniform has a very high collar."

Busted. If she knew he'd made the uniform – and of course Dick had told her – then Donna had a clue just how much he cared about Kala. It went way beyond mentor and trainee, even with attraction factored in. Then again, the look on his face when that text came in had likely given everything away. Still, Jay tried to keep the conversation light. "It's fine, I know where the zipper's hidden. And I put in enough support that she usually doesn't wear a bra under it, either."

She set the serving spoon she was drying aside and turned to him, crossing her arms. "Charming. And very patriarchal of you. No one should see her cleavage but you, right?"

Jay shot back, "It has nothing to do with that. Cleavage-baring uniforms are fucking impractical, even for the super-powered set. And she was running around in an honest-to-fucking-God corset, Donna. From one of her stage costumes. K needs something with some real armor, because she does take a bit of damage occasionally, and with as many people shooting at her as she's seen in Gotham, she really doesn't need a bullet traveling straight down her cleavage. Picking lead out of your navel must be awkward."

Donna leaned her hip against the sink, watching him curiously. He wished he knew what was going on in her mind, but Donna had always been able to surprise him. "You're very protective of her."

He sighed, and set down the fork he'd been washing. "Look. Some people are a little too good for this world, you know? You can't help wanting to protect them. Despite being a legacy, despite all her powers, despite her mom being the damn media liaison, K's always been a little bit out of the loop. She came into this late, and only luck and powers kept her out of trouble. I gave her the training and the uniform to keep her safe. Someone has to. I'm not gonna watch anyone get their teeth kicked in if I can help it."

No answer, and he finally turned to her. Donna just smiled slightly. "You've always been like that. Not quite to this degree – you've never really put yourself out there like this. But you've always kept watch over the ones who needed protection. Jay, if I can ask … when did it go from wanting to protect her, to sleeping with her?"

He mirrored her pose, taking the towel from her and drying his hands with it. "You sure you wanna talk about this? Dick hasn't quite stopped threatening my life over how upset you were with me, after … well, after. Speaking of people who are protective."

Donna tipped her head back, stretching her neck to relieve the tension there, and then looked at him levelly. "What he doesn't realize, because I haven't told him and neither have you, is that I'm probably half the reason we broke up. More than half. I was very upset, yes, but part of that was guilt and self-recrimination. I'm well past that, now. I still like you, Jay, and probably always will – you're a good man, much as you try to hide it – but I'm not trying to convince myself we end up living happily ever after anymore."

That kind of honesty always made Jay uncomfortable. "I did my share of shitty stuff when we split up, too. As for liking … hell, who wouldn't like you?"

"Kala, mostly," Donna said. "Because I worried too much and snapped at her. The same things you always told me would get me in trouble. Still glad she managed not to … what was it you said? Yeet me into the sun?"

"Okay, you have to stop," Jay laughed. "Also I said 'yeet your ass back to Themyscira'. If you're gonna quote me, get it right."

"It's my new favorite word. I'm going to use it for every villain I meet," Donna said dryly.

"Jesus fuck, please don't," Jay said, still snickering. "I can't be responsible for that."

Donna just shrugged. "You never answered my question. When did you start wanting more than to protect her?"

"Okay, it's not a clean-cut timeline," Jay said. If she kept pushing, he'd tell her; if she was going to be here when Kala was, she'd have to get used to him and Kala being their usual selves. And they hadn't hidden the fact that they were together since Denver. So what he told her was, "When I first saw her, all I wanted was to get that fucking dilettante out of my town before she wound up dead in the bay. Maybe I'd listened a little too much to your side of all those arguments. My idea of protecting her back then was to chase her off – she looked like a spoiled little girl trying to play in the big leagues."

"What changed that?" Donna asked.

"She broke my nose. Well, first she damn near stabbed my hand with a fork at breakfast, I challenged her, she accepted, and I was hoping to kick her ass hard enough that she'd limp home to Metropolis, where most of the villains don't do the kind of shit ours do." Jay scoffed. "Turns out, she's got way more grit than I ever guessed. I busted her in the mouth, and instead of crying foul, she fought dirty. Hovered over my head, waited for me to see her, and broke my nose when I looked up."

"Hera's hem," Donna muttered, frowning.

"Yeah. That's the exact moment I started wanting to bang her like a screen door in a hurricane," Jay said. "The two things, wanting to protect her and wanting her, have gone on pretty much parallel ever since. Doesn't hurt that she has a helluva mouth on her. She'll zing me back in a heartbeat."

Donna, however, had fastened onto the first part of that, her eyes horrified. "Jay, what … where did you come up with that horrifyingly evocative turn of phrase?"

"The internet," he laughed. "Donna, what do you want? What's the point in asking about our relationship?"

"I want to apologize to her," Donna replied. "And I want to make sure she understands I mean it. I'd also like to be on good terms with you."

"Why? What does it matter if you're on my good side?" Jay asked, tilting his head.

"It's not about being on your good side. It's about being able to talk to you. Being able to be friends. Knowing I can trust you, and you can trust me." Donna spoke as if those were simple things, not deeply fraught decisions.

"Donna, come on. You don't have to apologize to me or anything. We're okay," Jay said. And he would much rather be nebulously 'okay' than dig out all their past problems and try to solve them.

"You're still not comfortable with me being here," Donna pointed out.

"Shit, I'm still not comfortable being here myself," he admitted. "Staying in my old room, with Alfred putting all my favorites on the menu? It's like … going back in time. I haven't even really celebrated Christmas since I died, and now I'm here. Also I have to buy presents for my girlfriend's parents, and that's just fucking weird. Never really had to deal with anyone's family before."

Donna picked up the last fork and dried it, smiling. "Well, I'm going to enjoy the mental image of you shopping for my sister. Or for Slade."

"Slade's easy. I know what to get him. A nice big pipe bomb, loaded with shrapnel." Jay grinned at the thought. Rose might be pissed, at first, but it was the best thing for her. Hell, he could even duplicate gifts and send a pipe bomb to Ra's al Ghul, too. That bastard needed to die, and then he could ask Kala for the name of a good therapist for both surviving daughters.

Too bad he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Donna was looking at him seriously. "Dick knows Lois and Clark. So do I, but not as well. I do know her brother, though. Do you … would you want to go on a shopping trip? With us along to advise you?"

"Dick would just give me grief for not getting them anything yet," Jay said. "Also Dick would probably just wrap himself up, write 'Adopt Me' on the ribbon, and flop down under the tree."

She couldn't help laughing at that. "I've heard Lois say that they should've adopted all of you. Which I suppose you have to be grateful she didn't, or it would make things very awkward with Kala."

Somewhere in the depths of his brain, Jay's thirteen-year-old self sniggered. For adopted siblings, or step-siblings, it was up to them how they related to one another. And for Jay, he hadn't been raised with any siblings. He might call Dick and Tim his brothers, but his relationship with both of them was more teammates than actual relatives. His initial reaction to Dick – handsome, charming, kind Dick – had definitely not been brotherly.

"I would've learned to shoot sooner," Jay said idly. With the dishes clean and dried and put away as they talked, he had some free time. And Donna's offer did actually make sense. "You serious? About going shopping?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "Jay … you know I don't play games like that."

"No, you just ask a lot of leading questions to get a read on the situation," he replied, feeling better about the whole thing now that he realized what she'd been up to.

Donna folded her arms, but she was smiling. "Are we going shopping, or not?"

"I'm driving," was his answer.

If anyone in the Manor thought it odd that Jay and his ex were going out at the same time, nothing was said of it. The only person who would have commented was Dick, who'd already been told that Donna intended to have a conversation with Jay and clear the air between them.

Elsewhere in the Manor, Roy was watching indulgently over Lian. The main house had a gym room that was expansively furnished by any normal standards, and woefully inadequate compared to the workout space in the Cave below. Roy hadn't been invited to that, though. So he'd come in here to get in a few reps, and let Lian burn off some of her boundless energy. He wouldn't let her use anything heavier than a two-pound barbell, and she'd gotten creative, inventing ways to challenge herself. Just now she was standing on an exercise ball, with a barbell in each fist, apparently trying to do some yoga poses. Having to maintain her balance and hold the weights was enough of a contest to wholly absorb her attention.

Roy was close enough to catch her if she faltered. He didn't think she would need his help, but he was there anyway.

The door opened, and Dick and Dinah both strolled in, teasing each other about whose workout routine was more strenuous. Roy gave them both a nod, and they both returned it, Dinah strolling over to the weights. She glanced at Lian, who was trying to balance on one foot, and shook her head in amusement. Dick went for the high bar, of course, climbing it gracefully and turning around to hang by the backs of his knees. Roy smirked at that; you got used to talking to Dick upside-down, after a while. Or sideways, or crosswise. He had so much acrobatic grace and parkour skill that he could move through any given space in unexpected ways.

Lian was wobbling badly, her face a scowl of concentration, and Roy asked, "You okay there, squeaker?"

"Uh-huh," Lian answered, and finally lost her balance.

Roy caught her, of course, and she scowled at that. Given the choice, Lian would rather fall hard and get back up again, but Roy found that his fatherly instincts couldn't allow that. He'd let her fall – it was the only way to learn, sometimes, as he very well knew – but he had to cushion her landing.

"That's enough balancing for a while," Roy said gently.

"Wanna learn some trapeze catches?" Dick asked, still hanging upside down.

"Sure!" Lian chirped, her eyes brightening. Roy stacked up some step blocks to get the height, and let Lian clamber up them to leap into Dick's waiting arms. Dick showed her how to grip tight, and swung back and forth upside-down from the bar, Lian dangling like a pendulum and giggling.

Roy knew he could trust them both – Lian not to do anything too crazy, and Dick not to let her get hurt. So he sat down by Dinah, who was doing leg presses, and racked weights for bicep curls. "I've been thinking," he began.

"Always dangerous," Dinah said, smirking.

Roy put on a very fake scowl, then went back to talking normally. "I kinda like the whole team thing. Having backup is nice, and so is having friends who know what you're going through."

"I thought you had that, with the Titans," Dinah said. Not judging, she'd never do that – Dinah had seen him at his worst and had only compassion for him. Which Roy appreciated more than he could ever express.

"Sort of. But the younger set looks up to me as a mentor. It's not like it was. I'm more like a teacher than part of the class. Plus, everyone I came up with is either going solo, or running with their legacies." Roy had put enough weight on the machine that he had to focus on what he was doing.

Dinah nodded thoughtfully, resting between sets. "So you want an invite to the JLA?"

Roy laughed so hard he almost dropped the weight awkwardly. "Hell no, that feels like getting above myself. Besides, then I have to see Ollie all the time. And don't get me wrong, we've mostly gotten past that, but Ollie…"

"Is Ollie," Dinah said wryly. "I know. Although he is busy with Connor and Mia, and he might appreciate the help."

"He wouldn't appreciate me questioning his methods. No, I'm not gonna go home and pretend I still fit in that quiver, either." Roy sighed, and worked through a set of reps until he could feel the warmth in his muscles.

Lian shrieked in delight; Dick had been swinging back and forth, and let her go at the top of one swing. She grabbed the low bar on her way down, giggling, and pulled herself up on top of it. "Uncle Dick says I can join the circus!" she crowed.

"Uncle Dick technically owns a circus," Roy said, smiling. "You want to hire us both? A trick shot archer and an apprentice trapeze artist?"

Dick swung himself up on top of the bar. "No, I don't make the hiring decisions. I'm not there often enough – silent owner, really. I just help out with the money. But I did have an idea."

"Oh no, both of you having ideas? That's really dangerous," Dinah teased.

"Yeah, now if you start thinking, too, we'll either take over the world or destroy it," Dick replied with a wink. "Seriously, though, Roy. You could start your own team. There are other heroes out there working solo who might want to join up. The JLA is kind of intimidating – no offense, Dinah, but you've got the founding trinity there. And J'onn, Arthur, Hal, Wally, and the rest. That's kind of scary company to keep. I can understand why a lot of people don't think they're ready to sit at a table with all of them."

"It wouldn't bother you," Roy pointed out.

"It doesn't bother Wally, either," Dick said. "He's been the Flash since Barry retired. Maybe if he'd taken another name, or Barry was still on the team, he wouldn't feel right about being there." Lian chose that moment to jump to him, and he dropped back and caught her with a thoughtless, effortless grace that Roy couldn't help but envy.

With Lian dangling from his forearms like some kind of spider monkey, Dick said, "I was the first leader of the Teen Titans. I was the first of us to go solo and break out of my family legacy. I've filled Bruce's seat at the JLA table before, temporarily. I could do it again, but not full-time, I don't think."

"Yeah, you've proven yourself about five times over," Roy replied.

"That's not the point. You don't have to prove yourself to them. You have to prove it to yourself. And I used up a lifetime of self-doubt just running the Titans."

"We never realized that," Roy told him.

"I like the idea, honestly," Dinah said. "Roy, we know you're a good teacher. You'd make a good leader, too. And if you build your own team, you can hand-pick the personalities that work best for you."

"There's a couple of Titans who might like to go out on their own," Dick added. "And a few other people who work solo, or out of their own city, who might like to team up."

"I've got to think about it some more," Roy said, but it did sound like a good idea.

Warm with an hour's-worth of concentrated solar comfort, her backpack over her shoulder, Kala unlocked the door and gratefully stepped into her house, resisting the urge to call out a greeting. No matter. It had been months since she had been home, except for the brief stop-over to grab her dress for the charity ball. Oh, the relief of finally being somewhere that belonged to her, all of it set to her standards and needs entirely. Where she could just be herself for five seconds. The faint sweet and spicy scent from the diffusers that marked this space as hers soothed her, but the quiet didn't. There had been no instant call of her name the same as she had stopped herself from calling out; as much as she tried to ignore it, that unnerved her. But what harm was there in that? He had not been in the house before; she hadn't minded it one bit. That said, she stood in the foyer just listening for a long moment. Everything was just slightly different from the last time she'd seen it, in September. The refrigerator hummed, ceiling fans turned, but no footsteps or human sounds broke the silence. And that seemed suddenly so very wrong.

Yes, her house, but it felt off, now. Empty in more than the practical sense, the glass house bigger than it usually felt. After a moment, Kala made an frustrated sound of derision. This was ridiculous; she was barely in the door of a home she'd co-owned for three years, a place she had planned from the ground up, and here she was having vapors over something as simple as seeing artwork Sebast picked out in the hallway from the kitchen to the bedrooms. It's your house, too. Stop being silly. Shaking herself, Kala carried her bag up the sunlit passage, determined to get herself settled. She'd waited months for this and, Sebast or no Sebast, she would not squander this time.

Reaching the door to the master bedroom first, her steps slowed involuntarily. Obstacle Number One. Once upon a time, there would have been no hesitation whatsoever in opening the door and instantly flinging herself onto the king-sized bed, luxuriating in the certain acknowledge of not needing to be anywhere for the first couple of days, finally able to stretch out and relax. Food could be ordered and delivered, one needing only to answer the door on arrival. Absolute relaxation completely fit the bill.

With Sebast beside her, of course, both of them dead to the world the minute their heads hit the pillow, their bags dumped by the closet. Usually they'd take a nap on getting home, wake up in time for a late supper, then unpack and get settled in the morning. And routine, what routine? It always sucked once they were back on the road, but as soon as they were free, both of them reverted to the nighttime creatures they were. They kept their own hours when family didn't call.

Not this time. Shaking the thoughts away once again, Kala stopped with her hand on the doorknob, then clenched her jaw and swung the door open. No being frightened of ghosts you made yourself. You were a grown adult, you made decisions. And then you paid the consequences for it. She could do this.

The master bedroom was clean, neat, and hadn't been used since she'd put on the Snow Queen costume months ago. No dust, because they had a good cleaning service, but the air smelled stale. Lonely. Kala stepped in cautiously, looking around as if it wasn't her own room, and everywhere was some reminder of better days.

The vanity where she sat doing her makeup, listening to Sebast humming in the master bath as he shaved. The stylized painting of a barn owl on a dictionary page, framed and hanging above the dresser, which Sebast had gotten her for Christmas one year. Sebast's best dress shoes placed neatly by his closet, and one of his jackets hung over the door. The soft plush throw across the foot of the bed, that she snuggled up in and he nuzzled against.

Her stomach plummeted. Why hadn't she considered her own reaction? As much as her pride, her need to prove she could do it reared, Kala had to admit that she would find no rest in this room. Especially not tonight. Maybe in a few days, but it was still too soon. Feeling a fool, she turned smartly and headed for the guest bedroom that usually belonged to Ned, only to find it worse.

The comforter was just slightly rumpled, the pillow indented, and a handful of change was scattered across the nightstand. The air in here wasn't stale, but it held a hint of cologne. The Issue 47 she had bought him the last two Christmases, which he had loved enough to give up the somewhat-similar Armani Code for. That one caught her by surprise, the intensity of loss too sudden. Her chest was suddenly tight, Kala feeling almost nauseous with homesickness – and how ironic that she was home. But she could make herself get past the fact that Sebast wasn't here, only these reminders of him.

It honestly shouldn't have startled her that he'd taken this room. If she was haunted, wouldn't he have been, too? Angry or not, it was just too close, too real, being in a place that had been so intimate for both of them. He most likely would've thought she'd sleep in the master bedroom, that by taking the guest he was leaving the larger and more familiar room for her. But now she couldn't sleep in either room.

There was another option, she realized then. Luckily they'd long since converted the living room to another potential bedroom, to have space for Robb when he came over. Kala went back down there. It was a little too open to the kitchen, for her taste, but Ned snored so he got the guestroom with a door on it. Robb had never minded, since he technically got a larger room out of the deal, even if there was less privacy.

Kala dropped her bag by the bed with a heavy sigh. Robb was going to want more privacy, now, with Jennifer to consider. They might end up adding a wall and a door – the floor plan had originally been more open-concept. If, after all, they did actually manage to keep the house. The way things looked now, maybe she'd turn the master suite over to Robb and just settle in down here. With her senses and speed, Kala could at least be certain not to get caught semi-dressed and they had installed a huge hanging drape to cordon off that section of the house. It had always suited Robb just fine.

There was a TV in the living room, still, along with the three game systems, and when Robb wasn't in residence the folded-up sleeper sofa was where Kala had watched plenty of absolutely dreadful horror films. Feeling out-of-sorts, Kala considered that; it wasn't exactly as if there was anywhere she had to be and it was still mid-afternoon. Maybe watching some cheesy B-grader would take her mind off of things. She found the remote on the side table and turned it on, planning to find some utter train-wreck of a film to take her mind off everything. Movie gore no longer scared her, especially the low-end variety; she wasn't up for Saw-level realness at the moment, but she'd seen too much of the real thing in Gotham to quail from it anymore.

But when the screen lit up, it was on one of the Spanish channels, and Kala's heart clenched again. Goddammit, that was a low-blow. Sebast would watch telenovelas sometimes and talk to the screen the whole time, watching them even though he claimed to find the plotlines ridiculous, but it reminded him of staying home sick from school. His grandmother would bundle him up, rub Vicks on his chest, make him chicken soup, and settle him on the couch where she could keep an eye on him while Abuela watched her 'Stories'. Whenever Sebast needed to feel cared for, he watched daytime TV.

With an aggravated growl, Kala turned it off. Yeah, enough of this. If he was going to linger here and haunt, she needed a way to deal with this. With that thought, Kala headed into the kitchen instead, to make herself a drink. They had mint in a window box, they usually had lime juice and Sprite in the fridge for various uses, good Puerto Rican rum in the cabinet. To hell with it; a bastardized mojito sounded delicious right now.

Except even in the kitchen, she couldn't escape the reminders. The good cast iron pan was on the stove, meaning Sebast had made himself breakfast before he left. Kala opened the fridge and saw that he'd stocked them up, milk and eggs and cheese and salad and yogurt, another pang in her chest as she realized that Jay's fridge was probably almost empty by now. She hadn't stopped in to replenish his staples, but Sebast had left enough for her.

Closing the fridge, feeling haunted by someone who was still very much alive, Kala's gaze went to the sink. In the dish drainer beside it, there was only a single mug. He would've put away everything else, but Sebast lingered over his coffee. He likely hadn't even finished it before it was time to leave.

Standing over the sink, Kala could smell, very faintly, a trace of his cologne. And a stronger whiff of coffee that had gone down the drain hours ago.

She picked up the mug, and saw that it was his favorite, one she'd bought for his birthday three years ago. The side read, 'El chupacabra cree en ti,' which meant 'The chupacabra believes in you,' and beside the slogan was the grinning, fanged, spiky reptilian monster itself.

That hurt, the tide of longing she felt on seeing the silly damn mug. Why did this have to fucking hurt so much? Just coming home, just feeling the lack of his presence here, even as reminders loomed everywhere.

Sebast had washed the mug thoroughly, she could smell the detergent, but nonetheless Kala picked it up and pressed her lips against its cool ceramic side. The stinging in her eyes felt like a betrayal of Jay, somehow, as if she shouldn't miss Sebast this much. But Kala couldn't help feeling horribly alone.