Authors' Note: We're back, with the fully finished chapter, and some excellent progress made behind the scenes.

I'm sure everyone has Covid-19 on their minds. Both of us are reasonably healthy - our recent colds had very different symptoms and progression than Covid-19. However, the virus has been confirmed in our county, and at least one of the so-far three people who tested positive was from community spread, not travel. Which means it's out there, in far more people than the numbers show.

We are both still working. Our jobs require our physical presence and neither of our companies has made any plans to close locations. We'll be washing our hands regularly. Our home is reasonably stocked for the next while - grocery stores are still open and stocked here, though you might have to go to two stores to finish your grocery list. If our jobs do close, we'll get some extra writing done, but considering we are both usually open up until a few hours before a freaking hurricane makes landfall, we don't expect the jobs to shut down abruptly.

Take a deep breath, friends, and hold steady. This too shall pass.


Jay woke up early the next morning, because something small, cold, damp, and vaguely salty was pressing against his lips. His half-asleep mind couldn't process that, and he blinked his eyes open.

Right in front of his face was a fuzzy black blur with two jade-green eyes, staring into his own. Jay was so shocked he froze – and Norway, the fluffy cat, nudged her nose against his mouth again, insistently. "Jesus fuck," he muttered, trying to sit up.

The cat had perched herself on his chest, and when he moved, all of her claws went right through his t-shirt. They stopped short of his skin, though, and he reached up very gently to try and lift the cat off him. She only weighed about five pounds – he hadn't felt her walking up his body.

Norway gave a mrr of protest, but she went limp in his hands instead of scratching or biting. He set the cat on his lap and rubbed at his mouth, staring at her. "Oh man, that's snot, isn't it? You have any idea how gross that is? And why are you sticking your nose in my mouth? That's fucking weird, cat."

She blinked at him, and flopped over on her side, showing him her fluffy belly. Jay reached out and petted her, smiling a little as she wrapped her paws around his wrist. "Yeah, you're cute. For a gross little weirdo." Norway purred so hard he could feel it in the bones of his hands.

Glancing at the clock, Jay saw that it was far too early to be up, but he was awake now. And he wanted to wash his face and brush his teeth. He also needed to figure out how the cat had gotten into the room and prevent it in the future. When he moved, though, Norway whined and squirmed, grabbing at his hand. "Fine, you little mooch," Jay said.

He snapped a picture of himself petting her, Norway's eyes closed in bliss, and sent it to Kala. This is what I woke up to 'cause you weren't here. Younger woman broke into my room, tried to take advantage.

Kala was still in Metropolis, he thought. And it didn't really surprise Jay to get a prompt reply. Awww! So adorable! And then, a beat later, Wait, where the hell are you? I know you don't have a cat.

Jay chuckled. Manor. Selina moved in last night. Brought 33 or so of them. Half are feral, one is fifteen pounds and tried to gnaw Bruce's fingers off last night. Drools, too. They make the weirdest noises.

Kala, of course, was charmed. This I have to see. Bet they're adorable. But if Selina moved in – are things heating up over there?

Trust his girl to realize what was actually going on. Joker burned the arboretum. He's escalating, and Selina thinks he might come for her. Got a lot to tell you when you get in. She's safer here & so are the cats.

Sounds like fun, Kala replied. Can't wait to see you.

Jay smirked and sent back, Can't wait to see you, either. The cat's cute, but not who I wanted to wake up petting.

Kala sent him back, I see what you almost did there, followed by a series of laughing emojis. Amused, but determined not to make a crass joke that would get him in trouble, Jay got up and got dressed, ignoring the cat snuggling up in the warm spot on his bed. "All right, you, time to go," Jay said, and tried to pick her up.

She clung to the blanket, and Jay had to gently disengage her claws. He was getting more comfortable handling the cats – well, this one at least. She let him carry her out of the room and down the stairs, draping herself over his arm and purring loudly. He shook his head, moving on toward the kitchen. Breakfast sounded nice…

… until he heard another cat making a mrowr noise that got louder and higher-pitched. Alfred stalked out of the kitchen, his face set in disapproving lines, carrying the big cat, Batty. "Your pardon, Miss Batty, we do not allow animals in food preparation areas," he said, and deposited the cat on the floor.

Jay couldn't help a snort of laughter, and Alfred fixed him with a grim glare. "I doubt you will find it so amusing if you should discover cat hair in your scrambled eggs, Master Jason."

True, but before Jay could admit it, Batty tipped her head back and gave another loud mrowr. Norway flipped herself out of Jay's arms at that, rushing to her much bigger sister and grooming her face. Batty just stared at Alfred, making her weird excuse for a meow. "No," he said emphatically.

Selina strolled up – wearing Bruce's bathrobe, so at least someone was benefiting from this madness, with her favorite cat slung around her shoulders like a fur stole – and cocked an eyebrow at all of them. "Morning, boys."

"Miss Kyle," Alfred said severely, and if he was using her last name instead of her first, she was definitely in trouble. "Please explain to your charges that it is both unsanitary and unsafe for them to stand on the counter while I prepare breakfast."

Batty yelled again, and Norway added a sharp counterpoint. "Hush, girls," Selina remonstrated. "He doesn't know about the Bat-tax."

"The Bat-tax?" Jay asked. "Do I even wanna know?"

"Batty's obsessed with cheese. If you're making anything with cheese in it, you have to give her a pinch. That's the Bat-tax," Selina explained. "Alfred, give me a little cheese and I'll keep them out here?"

The butler gave one of his complicated sighs, but returned with a spoonful of fresh cheddar. Selina sat down in the breakfast nook and fed it to Batty, as Jay sniffed appreciatively at the scrambled eggs and bacon wafting from the kitchen. "I'm liking this Bat-tax thing," he said. "I'll just stay by the door and steal half of what's on everyone's plate as it goes by."

"That'd be the Hood-tax. Don't you tell everyone you're not a Bat?" Selina teased, her eyes sparkling. "Also, Batty gets away with it because she's cute and endearing. You think you can compete with her there?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah no, I haven't been cute since I was a kid. Maybe I can swing it by being huge, loud, and intimidating. Just like that cat."

"Aww, Batty-Bat, you're not intimidating. Don't listen to the mean old Hood," Selina crooned. Batty glanced up from her cheese, giving a muttered mrratt with her mouth full.

"Do any of them actually meow?" Jay asked. "I hear a shitload of weird noises, but not one normal cat meow."

The one on her shoulders – Miss Kitty – looked at him archly, opened her mouth, and let out a tiny bell-like mew. Jay scoffed at her, and Selina shrugged. "Very few cats sound the same. Certainly none of the sisters meow – Norway's the closest, maybe, or Belle. Wait 'til you hear Bolt, she never lost her kitten voice."

Three cats ran past the hallway, and Jay just shook his head. "Thomas and Martha Wayne would be so proud. Their little baby Brucie grew up, found a girlfriend, and she's a crazy cat lady who moved in with thirty-three of the damn things."

"He adopted a circus boy, a street rat, and then the one kid with some breeding who's determined to become a shut-in," Selina shot back. "Also, I'm not a crazy cat lady. I don't keep all of them. They just know how to find the right people, and I help them." Miss Kitty flipped her tail insolently, looking right at Jay.

"Crazy, and so are they," Jay argued. "Do you know this fluffy little shit got in my room somehow and woke me up shoving her cold damp nose in my mouth?"

Selina smirked at him. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who doesn't have a taste for it."

Jay blinked at her, realizing she was using the pun he hadn't sprung on Kala, and wished he had something to throw at her. "Knock it off. You're not allowed to make that joke, Catwoman. Also I know fully damn well the reason her nose is wet is snot. And that's not okay. It was salty, goddammit."

He'd gotten a little strident there, and Norway sat up, staring at him. Her white teeth shone as she gave an equally strident maow!

"Calm down, fun police, he won't hurt me," Selina chuckled.

"Fun police?" Jay echoed.

"Norway yells at anyone who raises their voice," she explained. "And God help you if you make one of her sisters cry, she'll yell at you for that, too. She was the last one spayed – she's just too tiny, I let her grow up as much as I could – so she thinks she's mama cat."

Jay looked down at the furball, and saw that pink maw again as she scolded him with another maow! "Jesus fuck, this tiny-ass cat is bossing me around?" The sheer audacity impressed him. Jay was pretty sure, given his pre-Kala diet of takeout Chinese and chili dogs from sketchy carts, that he'd taken shits bigger than that cat.

"That tiny-ass cat bosses Batty around, and her sister's fifteen pounds of solid muscle," Selina said with a shrug. "She also sleeps on top of poor Freyja, who might be four times her weight. It's not the size, Jay, it's what you do with it. Haven't you heard that one before?"

"Never about anything with claws," he shot back, and she laughed.

That discussion had to be tabled, because Dick came in with a grim expression. "Joker's at it again," he said, putting one of their tablets on the table between Jay and Selina. "Breaking news, just now. This one doesn't make sense. Why would he burn down an abandoned building? Without any fatalities, either?"

The article he'd pulled up, though, made both Jay and Selina gasp. Mostly because it had a photo of the building facade before Joker had set it alight. "The kids," Selina murmured, her green gaze turning icy. "That sonofabitch."

"Kids?" Dick said, looking pained.

"They all moved on. But that pack of kids I was looking after? That's their building. Well, it was." Jay suddenly didn't care about banter or breakfast. "This motherfucker's pissing in my wheaties now. Joker's taking a shot at me."

"Not just you," Selina reminded him. "Oswald knows I was looking after those kids, too, and I'm in Joker's crosshairs too. He's just killing two birds with one stone."

"Why would he go after you now, Jay?" Dick asked, bending down to pet the two cats that had started rubbing against his legs. "I mean, we've been figuring his primary motivation is revenge on Harley. You had nothing to do with that. Maybe it is about Selina."

"No, it's about me," Jay said coldly. "Joker's girlfriend kicked his ass. He's lost face; everyone in town knows he beats the hell outta Harley. She's always bounced back from it, but the one time she raises a hand to him, he lands in Gotham General with a fractured skull? It makes him look weak. Now every thug in town is wondering if his balls dropped off. If he can't find Harley to even the score, he'll have to make a statement some other way. And he never shuts up about that poor little Robin he beat to death."

Selina sat up sharply, looking worried. "You're alive, you're here in Gotham, you proved you can run the gangs better than him when you want to, but you're back running with the Bats. Like it never happened. God, Jay, if he can't get Harley, you're the obvious choice. You're his other big failure."

Jay couldn't help laughing at that, bitterly enough that little Norway jumped up to the table and patted his face with one fluffy paw. He rubbed the top of her head. "I'm everybody's failure, aren't I?"

"Not mine, Master Jason," Alfred said sternly as he walked back into the room with three plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. "And I'll hear no more such talk from you, either. I wager Miss Kala would be vociferously displeased with you for it, and she can nearly match you for profanity when she chooses."

Jay bowed his head at that. "Okay, okay. But we're right about this being aimed at me. Joker wanted to destroy me, and he failed. Killing me off – or making me go off the deep end – would send a message to the whole city."

"He will not find you an easy target," Alfred said with utter certainty. "And should he show his face within range of this house, I shall defend it – and my charges – as I always have."

Somehow Jay was certain that defense would involve the double-barreled Purdey shotgun over the mantle, and he managed to smile.

Dinah took Roy and Lian with her to drop off gifts for the kids in Gotham. Jay's kids, really, but the one time she'd called them that in front of him, Jay had damn near exploded. She didn't even want to know what that dose of paranoia was about.

X-Boxes for all the kids, courtesy of their favorite rock star, plus games and clothes and books courtesy of everyone. As for food, Lois Lane had reached out to Dinah about getting these kids some home-cooked meals for the kids on Christmas Day, and Babs had arranged it. Everything would go off without a hitch on the big day. Dinah was careful, dropping off the goodies, not to let herself be followed. Roy watching their back-trail helped ease her mind about it, too.

The news that morning had been grim. Joker had struck again, seemingly at random. He'd burnt down the building where Jay had stayed with those kids, and the moment Babs realized which one it was, she'd dived into the flow of information around the city, looking for correlations. It hadn't taken her long to find two of Dent's men dead, in gruesome fashion. Joker must've gotten the address from them, and then torched the building. According to what Dinah had heard over brunch at the Manor – accompanied by a cat or two under her seat hoping for tidbits – Joker was striking out at Jay to re-establish himself.

It made sense. Joker was spoiling for a fight and hoping one of them would give it to them. He'd torched the arboretum trying to draw Pam out so she'd lead him to Harley. He'd killed two women who happened to be the same hair colors as Pam and Harley, too. The car bomb at the police station was worrisome, too, especially when taken with the fact that Joker had used a car that once belonged to Dick, and he'd also set fire to a library that Babs once worked at to cover a bank robbery.

Those last two might not mean anything. They had no reason to believe Joker knew their civilian identities. Babs might be a target because she was the commissioner's daughter, or the library had just been the closest building to the bank Joker chose. The thing with Dick's car might be a true coincidence, he'd only owned it briefly after all. But no Bat trusted coincidence, and after this long running with the Birds of Prey, Dinah didn't put much stock in it, either.

If Joker did know their identities, he'd be leaving more hints soon. He couldn't resist baiting Bruce. Security at the Manor and Clock Tower had been quietly stepped up; Bruce and Babs put their faith in tech, but Dinah was secretly glad to have Donna Troy there. And soon, Kala would be, too. Joker wouldn't be able to sneak past their superhuman senses.

Kala being there would settle Jay down, too. The burning of the kids' former building had him on edge and snappish. He'd relax with close air support, Dinah figured. That move wasn't part of Joker's apparent pattern of hinting at civilian identities, but then, Jay didn't have much of one.

Trying to outguess Joker was a fool's game, anyway. The one thing everyone knew for certain about him was that his goals could change on a whim.

Michelle Troupe's birthday was December 25th, and she was turning eighteen. A memorable age, and it reminded Lois of a very memorable year. It seemed so long ago now, and so tumultuous at the time. Lois and Clark had gotten engaged on Christmas Eve, Richard and Lana had gotten married on Christmas Day, and Lucy had given birth to her youngest daughter right after Christmas dinner. Oh, and a few days later they'd discovered that Loueen was pregnant with Perry's son Bryan. The next summer Lana had turned up pregnant, too, which resulted in Michelle, Bryan, and Kristin all being within fourteen months of each other, although they'd been born in three different calendar years.

Around the Daily Planet offices, where all three kids worked after school in departments far from their parents, they were known as the Golden Trio. Lois snorted every time she heard it; all three of them were Potter fans, but they couldn't help falling into endless arguments about which character they actually were. Lois, who knew just enough to realize that she was a textbook Gryffindor herself, let the talk flow over and past her as the kids bickered and debated. Last she'd heard, Kristin refused to be the Weasley of the group despite being the redhead, and Michelle was proclaiming herself the obvious Hermione. Bryan still claimed to be the chosen one, as Perry's son, but he didn't have any cool scars. Any discussion in that direction usually resulted in the two girls offering to chuck rocks at him until he acquired one. Lois, who knew a few things about Michelle's gifts this year, was looking forward to the latest iteration of that debate.

By long tradition, the family celebrated Michelle's birthday the weekend before Christmas, and tried to differentiate holiday gifts from birthday gifts. Ron and Lucy tried to give her experiences for her birthday and things to unwrap for Christmas, a system that had worked well for them for years. Lois was glad her own kids were far enough from Christmas not to exhaust her gift-giving creativity or strain her wallet.

Jason would normally turn up for his cousin's birthday, but this year he was staying in Smallville, not wanting to leave Elise's side. He'd mailed Michelle's card and chipped in on her big gift, and would call that evening, but Lois knew how rough a hybrid pregnancy could be. Second generation might be even worse. She couldn't blame him for sticking close to his wife at a time like this.

That left Kala basking in the attention, glad to have her parents all to herself for a day or two. She'd slipped in while they were at work, grabbed dinner for all three of them that night, and stayed so late she'd ended up sleeping in her old room. Clark had raised an eyebrow, but Lois had shaken her head at him, knowing why Kala didn't fly home. The house had to be too full of reminders of Sebast, right now.

On Saturday, they got to the restaurant Michelle had chosen early, but still didn't manage to beat Richard, Lana, and Kristin. Lois just rolled her eyes as they got out and headed in. Lucy, Ron, and all of their kids would be there, Joanna even dropping in from Antigua where she was painting these days. Bryan and Loueen were there, too, though Perry hadn't felt up to the trip. The editor-in-chief could still bellow across the bullpen at need, though Lois had taken over more of his duties as time went on. Michelle and Bryan had been best friends since babyhood, but in the last couple years their friendship had taken on a different texture. Lois had asked Kristin about it and gotten only a cryptic shrug in reply. The three kids were thick as thieves; no wonder she didn't divulge any details.

Throughout the dinner, Kala put on a very convincing performance. There was no reason for her cousins, or her aunt and uncle, to guess that she wasn't on top of the world. Then again, that was a courtesy to Michelle, whose day this was. Kala wouldn't interrupt it with drama, no matter how juicy the gossip about her life might be.

Although, Kristin did ask her, "Is everything all right, Big K?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Kala said brightly. Only her mother saw the cracks in her facade as she smiled. "Sebast's in Ponce. He's gonna be busy, there's baby showers and a wedding all in three weeks, on top of the usual Christmas stuff. We'll talk after the holidays." Kristin nodded, though she looked a little too shrewdly at her sister, and made a point of passing her tastes of her meal. Lois watched knowingly; that one had plenty of Lana's observational skills, and she made it her business to look after the people she loved.

Of course, the big birthday gift announcement was still to come. Michelle's card was sitting in the middle of the table, and once they'd gotten through dinner and ordered desserts, she finally opened it. Lois, who knew what was in the card, just sat back with a grin. She and all the other adults had contributed to this, after all.

Michelle's cafe au lait complexion went pale. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Really?"

"What is it?" Bryan asked, and Kristin leaned forward curiously.

"It's real," Lucy said. "We all chipped in. And you're not going unchaperoned, young lady. But it's time you had a break from school and work all the time."

"You're only eighteen once," Ron said fondly.

"Yeah, Lucy got you for her eighteenth," Lois cut in. "Michelle, do us all a favor on don't get married yet."

"Nah, not yet," Michelle said, and maybe only Lois saw Bryan take a conspicuous sip of his soda.

Kristin redirected them all quickly; yeah, she knew something was up. "Are you going to tell us what you got? Is there a car key in that card?"

"No," Michelle said, and turned it around. Lois knew what was there, but she saw Kristin and Bryan both crane their heads to see, and then their jaws dropped in unison.

"The ultimate package?" Bryan said, stunned.

"Five-day passes to all three Universal parks, five nights in a resort hotel, early admission to the parks, breakfast at both of the theme restaurants," Lucy said. "Plus some other stuff. You're buying your own souvenirs, though. You've got time to save up – we're actually going sometime in March."

Loueen patted Bryan on the shoulder. "Guess what, kiddo, this's your Christmas present. Surprise."

"Really?" he squeaked, eyes wide.

"Really," Loueen told him. "Not like Michelle would go anywhere for five days without inviting you and Kristin."

"Absolutely not," Michelle said firmly.

"Oh, I am so down for this," Kristin said. "Mom, Dad, I should have enough in savings, right? This is an event. I can't miss it."

Lana chuckled. "Sweetheart, your tickets are already bought. It'll be your seventeenth birthday gift."

"Yes!" all three kids exclaimed, high-fiving across the table and already making plans.

Lois just leaned back and grinned at her sister, Loueen, and Lana. "I love it when a plan comes together."

"Yeah, now take a week off and come with me," Lucy pleaded. "No one can handle the junior reporters' league alone."

"Crap, if I wasn't on tour I'd go with you," Kala said. "Let me know what dates, I might spring for a day ticket."

"We're trying to limit the trouble they get in, not magnify it," Lana chided gently. "I can go, Lucy, if you want."

Lois knew this had already been decided; they were discussing it for the kids' benefit. Kristin just smiled at her mother. Having Lana along for the trip would cut down on a lot of typical teenage chaos, but Lois figured the three would get up to enough trouble to satisfy them. Without ending up in jail or anything.

"This is going to be the best trip ever," Michelle proclaimed, pulling out her phone. "We should do the new Pottermore quiz to make sure we get the right merch."

"Whatever, you're Ravenclaw, Bryan's Hufflepuff, and I'm Gryffindor," Kristin said, but she took out her phone, too, and the trio's silence left the adults discussing logistics.

Lois took that moment to lean on her daughter's shoulder. "So, business as usual after New Year's?" she asked. Gently, aware that Kala had plenty of reason to hate New Year's Eve. Eight years didn't seem so long, whenever that particular night rolled around. Kala had been grounded on New Year's Eve, her parents had fought and the dreaded word 'divorce' had been brought up, and then on New Year's Day she'd run away from home and been kidnapped. Kala had avoided most of the hoopla ever since.

"Well, kinda," Kala said with a shrug, and tipped her head to lean against Lois, too. "The label's supposed to have a new manager for us when we start back up. I'm not dealing with Derek's crap anymore, so that's a plus, but I hope they give us someone good. I can't do it all by myself anymore. It's too much."

Lois frankly couldn't imagine being a singer, a manager, and a superhero, plus trying to navigate a fairly new relationship at the same time. Kala had always seemed to have limitless energy … right up until the moment she fell out and slept for a full day. She slid an arm around Kala's shoulders, hugging her tight. To distract her, Lois murmured softly enough that the rest of the table wouldn't hear it, "Feel like you're ready for Christmas with the Waynes?"

Kala just groaned. "Oh, God, never. At least the food will be worth it." Still, she smiled. Lois figured she was conflicted about spending time with the whole family now that her relationship with Jay was in the open, and yet looking forward to seeing him. She'd admitted last night that she hadn't been to Gotham very often since firing her manager.

"Ha! Gryffindor!" Bryan exclaimed, having just finished the quiz. "I told you. I'm the chosen one!"

Michelle rolled her eyes at him. "You are not Harry Potter. You've got one Muggle parent, after all."

Clark picked that moment to ask, "What exactly is a Muggle? It sounds rude." Loueen rolled her eyes at that, shaking her head. Clark really should've picked that up from context by now, but Lois knew he didn't pay as much attention to fiction as the rest. Then again, he lived a pretty fantastic life.

"Someone who doesn't have magic," Richard supplied, smirking. "Which, for these kids, means someone who isn't a reporter. Kristin's the only pureblood – she has three reporter parents."

"Still makes her a Weasley, and matches the red hair," Michelle said. "Also, I'm Ravenclaw, to no one's surprise. Luckily I look good in blue, whether you go with bronze from the books or silver from the films."

For once, Kristin didn't react to the implications about which character she might be, just staring at her phone. Bryan threw his napkin at her. "Hello, Earth to Kristin. C'mon, what's wrong? Look, you don't have to be Ron, Ginny's a Weasley and still a Gryffindor."

"Dude, Ginny in the movies was just weird, don't do that to her," Michelle scolded, elbowing him. Kristin still didn't speak, and Michelle reached across, waving a hand in front of her face. "Hey, Kristin?"

The young redhead looked up then, frowning. "I am not a Slytherin!"

Lois couldn't help it. She pointed right at Lana, laughing. "She is your daughter through and through! You're the most manipulative person at the table, Red!"

"I am no such thing," Lana argued, but Lucy and Loueen both snorted at that, getting Lana's glare turned their way. Richard wisely buried himself in his own phone, not making eye contact with his wife or his ex.

"Oh, crap, she's not Ginny, she's Draco," Bryan gasped.

Michelle hit him. "No, dummy, she's the chosen one! Remember, Harry was going to be sorted into Slytherin until he told the hat he wanted to be Gryffindor? And that makes you Ron, still. The gormless one."

Kala wrapped her arm around Kristin's shoulder. "Someone's got to redeem Slytherin from the inside. Besides, they're all about ambition, cunning, and leadership, right? Sounds about right. And you look good in green."

Kristin seemed mollified, and Lois smiled at both girls. It was nice to only have to worry about normal things, like theme parks and souvenirs, for a little while. God knew Kala deserved a break.

She wasn't getting much of one, though. She'd be flying out to Kansas first, and then heading back to Gotham on Christmas Day after the family festivities were over.

At least she had a whole week with no obligations before the tour started up again.

Dick had remarked for the fourth time that it was wonderful having everyone at home – beaming at all of them, but especially Jay. And then of course he added that Kala would be there, too, soon enough, and Jay was just done with it all. He stalked off to his room, muttering about being allergic to so much togetherness.

Frankly, he just wasn't used to it. Being able to have a civil conversation with Donna was nice, being able to hang with Roy was nice, and of course being here in the Manor with Dick and Tim and Bruce and Alfred was very nice. Just, all of it at the same time, a friendly face everywhere he turned, some gentle kidding or earnest concern about his well-being in every voice, somehow that made Jay's stomach queasy. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to turn on him, for all the niceness to turn nasty.

He needed Kala. He could trust her kindness because she never held back when he was being a dick. Everyone else had family obligations or other reasons to be nice; Kala liked him for him. Not the kid he'd been, the man he was now. She'd never known him as a kid, so obviously it was who he'd become that she knew and liked. No pity from her quarter.

But, she had a decent family and home life, so he couldn't expect her to ditch them at Christmas. He was lucky to get her on Christmas Day, and Jay knew it – but he was jealous enough of her time to be glad he got to keep her 'til New Years. A whole week, that would be almost like the summer again, seeing her every day. The only difference was, he'd be seeing her every night, too. It might be a good idea to sound-proof this room…

Someone knocked on his door, and Jay's instincts hadn't softened any. His hand dropped to his knife as he listened to the knock. "I just need to brood on my own," he called out. "It's a Bat thing, you'll understand."

A much higher voice than he expected declared, "Daddy says you're bein' Auntie Social. Lemme in."

Lian, of course. They sicced the kid on him, the dirty rotten bastards. Still, Jay got up and opened the door. "It's antisocial, kiddo. I'm no one's aunt."

She just shrugged, walking into his room curiously. All the horror and metal band posters caught her eye, and she stared up at Megadeth unflinchingly. Then again, her mom was an assassin, none of this could freak her out. "Cool," Lian finally said.

"Thanks," Jay told her. And wanted to kick himself for it. Since when did he need approval from a kid?

She hopped up into the chair at his desk, looking at the textbooks on the shelf and the monster models beside them. "How come you have kid stuff?" Lian asked.

"I haven't really been in this room much since I was a kid," Jay explained. "All my stuff is the way I left it when I was fifteen."

Lian frowned a little. "How come you never came back?"

"It's complicated," Jay said, not wanting to get into all of it. "By the time I came back to Gotham, I was grown and got my own place. This is … like a time capsule, kinda."

She took another measured look around, and nodded. "You were an okay kid."

Jay laughed at that. "Nice to know you approve, squeaker."

She frowned at him then, and he saw a hint of Roy's truculence in her – but mostly Cheshire, whom he hadn't directly dealt with but whom he'd known to be wary of. "Only Daddy calls me that. And Dinah, sometimes."

"I stand corrected," Jay said, raising his hands.

Mollified, Lian swung her feet. "How come you're anti-social, then?"

"You gonna become a cop when you grow up? You've got the interrogation part down," Jay shot back.

"Eww, no. Cops just get in the way," Lian said breezily, and Jay stifled his laughter.

"Better not let your dad hear that, with him being such good pals with Officer Grayson," Jay warned.

She just rolled her eyes. "Uncle Dick is okay. The rest? Eh. So – why're you anti-social?"

Lian was giving him an intent look, and he figured she wouldn't be dissuaded, so Jay shrugged. "I've never been good with all the family stuff. Comes from running around by myself most of the time. I'm not used to this many people all up in my face."

For a moment, she looked at him solemnly, then nodded. "Me neither. Mostly it's just me an' Daddy. Mama sometimes too. Whoever Daddy's workin' with, or his girlfriends." Lian stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes at that.

"Hey now, some of your dad's girlfriends are pretty cool. You like Donna," Jay pointed out.

"Donna is the best," Lian agreed. "Dinah says she and Daddy are both 'fraid of commint … conmintment? Something."

Jay laughed at that. The kid had a damn good head on her shoulders. It couldn't be easy, being the child of a hero and a villain. "Yeah, commitment. Dumb grownup stuff, mostly."

She leaned forward, and spoke with a conspiratorial air. "Lots of grownup stuff is dumb."

Jay also leaned toward her, matching her tone. "Yeah, it is. I do as little of it as possible."

Lian's eyes lit up at that. "Then you'd rather do fun kid stuff? Like sneak downstairs and steal all the cookies while everyone's talking about their tax returns and other boring junk?"

"There's no way we could sneak down the stairwell without them spotting us," Jay said sadly. Her face fell, and he grinned, warming to this whole interacting-with-kids thing. "But … if we went out the window and across the string course to the corner, we could slip down and get in the kitchen window without anyone seeing us."

"Yeah!" Lian said excitedly. "I love doin' parkour, let's go!"

Jay foresaw no problems whatsoever with letting Lian cling to his back as he traversed the walls of Wayne Manor. He'd done it hundreds of times as a kid, and compared to his nightly runs across Gotham's rooftops, it was tame enough to be considered 'kid stuff'.

Kala had flown herself to Smallville three days before Christmas, with the rest of her family following the next two days. As usual, Richard, Lana, and Kristin took the seaplane, while Lois and Clark traveled the next day so as to appear to have taken a commercial flight. Kala just snickered, glad that she was free of job responsibilities and able to fly out first.

Elise, of course, put her to work immediately. The Kent farmhouse was over a hundred years old, and despite the whole thing having been cleaned to in-law inspection readiness for Thanksgiving, Elise was determined to make it shine. Kala found herself assigned to dusting all the high spots everyone else needed a stepladder to reach. As she hovered to polish the brass light fixture in the third-floor stairwell, she called down, "This is discrimination, just so you know."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Jason called back, re-hanging the parlor door that had started to stick recently. Elise herself was going around with a couple of rags and a bottle of lemon oil, polishing all the woodwork to a gleam.

"I wonder if she's nesting," Kala said, glancing down at her brother.

"Huh?" he asked intelligently.

"Nesting, Dopey. That thing pregnant women do when they get close to delivery? Where they go on a cleaning binge and put nine hundred things on the registry and get obsessive about buying baby clothes?" Kala rolled her eyes. "God, it's your wife who's pregnant, you should know these things."

"Look, I know about Braxton-Hicks contractions and all the potential medical side effects. I know she went up a shoe size and she's pissed. But I haven't exactly studied the psychology," Jason replied.

"Well, you can quit worrying about side effects, I think. You're pretty much in the home stretch." Kala went back to polishing.

"Yeah, tell that to her heartburn. And the frequent flyer miles on bathroom trips," Jason sighed.

Elise arrived about then, glaring at both of them. "Are you done yet? You know the family will be here tomorrow, right?"

"You should look into those psychological side effects, Lizardman," Kala said, safely hovering out of Elise's reach. "She's grumpy."

Elise flipped her the bird with both hands. "Put your super-speed to use, you snarky pain in the butt. As for you, Jason Kent…"

"I'm working, I'm working," he said, lifting the door a little so he could slide the hinge pins in.

"The third floor bathroom faucet still drips, and we're going to have people over so turning off the water isn't a solution," Elise said waspishly.

"That's next on the honey-do list, honey," Jason replied, and turned a soft smile on her.

He was so clearly in love despite the attitude that Elise couldn't help smiling back. "I love you, you big dork," she said, and he left the door hanging by one hinge to hug her.

"I love you too," Jason murmured.

Kala called from the top of the stairwell, "I love you three, but I'm not coming down until there are witnesses. I don't wanna get stabbed."

Elise flipped her off again; the babies could hear by now, and she was trying not to swear in front of them. Kala snorted at that, and Elise just said, "Yeah, I love you four. I just hope you get pregnant with twins when it's your turn."

"Nope, nuh-uh, jinx on that," Kala said quickly, as Jason laughed at her.

"It runs in your family," Elise pointed out. "I'll be sure to laugh at you when you're too fat to fly."

Kala burst out laughing, and just barely managed a controlled landing instead of an ungraceful splat. "Merry Christmas, everyone, huh, Elise?"

In Crown Point, there were decorations and lights the closer it got to Christmas, but some trades weren't exactly offering holiday specials. On a dark corner across from a twenty-four-seven convenience store, three or four women could usually be found standing around, talking desultorily. Not always the exact same women, but a careful observer would note that all of them together formed a group of just over a dozen. Their ages ranged from a hard-bitten sixteen to a carefully-made-up thirty, and the only thing they really had in common was a tendency to be under-dressed for the weather.

Well, that and the fact that all of them were exceptionally skilled at covering facial bruises or split lips with makeup.

The GCPD was aware of them, but the vice squad was focusing its efforts on the pimps and the gangs, not the girls on the street. Social services tried to reach out to them, but were often met with distrust – and the programs weren't popular enough to receive adequate oversight or even funding, despite sizable anonymous contributions from at least three masked figures in the night.

On this particular night, two hours before dawn, the trade had bled off for the night. Marcus Kyong was making his rounds, picking up the cash, making sure none of his girls had skittered off with their earnings, and distributing a scant allowance of various drugs, both prescription and street, among what he laughingly called his 'contractors'. He was handsome and smooth-talking, and had recruited most of them by dating them first. By the time they realized what he really did, and that they were no different to him than all the other former 'girlfriends', it was generally far too late. They quickly became part of his stable, addicted to the drugs he provided and convinced by his careful manipulation that not only did not they not deserve any better, they weren't capable of any more in life than this.

His current favorite was Alexa Washington, tall and dark and graceful. She strode at his side and gave the other girls a cold sneer as they stopped by each of his corners. All of them rolled their eyes behind her back; if they were so bold as to disrespect her to her face, Marcus would 'correct' them for it. Either by taking a steeper cut of their earnings, or with a sharp blow. He generally remembered to hit them in the belly or back, but sometimes lost his temper and his caution. That was how they'd all learned to cover up black eyes.

Tonight most of the girls seemed restive, making comments under their breath or stalking off loudly with angry glances at Alexa. She surveyed them all with queenly disdain, her hand tucked into Marcus' elbow.

The last stop was the group of three behind the convenience store. It wasn't the most productive location, and the girls there were a little short of their projected earnings. Marcus threatened and cajoled, and took a little more of their cut, to encourage them to be more proactive the next night. They looked at him sullenly, but none dared to challenge him.

Until the oldest in the group, a woman who called herself Destiny, looked him boldly in the eye, and said, "Well maybe if that black bitch didn't need a thousand dollars worth of weave, you wouldn't need to cut us to the bone."

"What did you say to me, you crusty old whore?" Alexa challenged, stepping forward.

"You heard me, you nappy young whore," Destiny shot back.

Marcus found himself trying to pry the two women apart, but somehow the other two got into it, too. And Alexa grabbed for his gun, screaming about shooting Destiny right in her pasty face, and in the struggle he lost control of the weapon.

Only then did he see most of his other girls, coming out of the side streets and the alley behind the store. All of them had some kind of improvised weapon, from a length of tow-chain to a board pulled off a fence. And Alexa pointed the gun at him with a cold smile. "The fuck you think you're doing?" he demanded. Fear churned his guts, but they were just women. He had spent a lifetime manipulating and intimidating women.

"Give us our fucking money, or I'll shoot," Alexa said.

"Your money?" His voice cracked, in surprise, but the women had formed a loose circle around him that began to close. Marcus caught himself glancing toward the store, a block away. It seemed impossibly far.

"Our money. We earned it, you didn't," Destiny said, and he realized these bitches had set him up.

"That's it, every one of you smartass cunts is dead," he snarled.

Alexa pointed the gun at his feet and pulled the trigger. The shot cracked off the asphalt, and he jumped. Several of them laughed. "Only reason I don't shoot you now is I don't wanna wash your blood off my money. Hand it over, Marcus, or I'll take the risk."

He glanced at the store again, just in time to see the security mesh roll down over the door. Fuck. They might call the cops, but by the time those good-for-nothing bastards rolled up, this little scene would be finished.

One way or another.

He had his own expensive habits, but Marcus figured he could afford to lose a night's work more easily than he could a few pints of blood. Maybe his life, if the bitch got a lucky shot. "This ain't gonna be the end of this," he warned, mostly in an attempt to spook them, and pulled out the roll of bills.

Destiny took it, and began dividing it up. Alexa nodded, and took a step back, fumbling with the gun until she got it open. She shook the bullets out onto the ground, wiped the gun down with the edge of the cashmere coat he'd bought her, and threw it hard into the alley. Marcus squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and turned to walk off with all the dignity left to him.

To his surprise, the women closed ranks around him. "You think you can just walk away?" Destiny asked him. "After you beat me 'til I lost my baby?"

"After you beat me with a wire hanger for not going with that guy who looked like a goddamn leper?" another woman growled.

"After you got me high and made that video? The one you threatened to show my parents?" still another woman said, her voice thick with shame.

Something in the air was changing, and for the first time in his entire life, Marcus was afraid. Of women! "Who the fuck did you think you are?!" he demanded.

"Who do you think you are?" they yelled back at him, a ragged splintering chorus, but all he heard was rage.

"Sorry, Marcus," Alexa said, her voice the only one cold and in control. "See, I said I wouldn't shoot you. I never said we wouldn't just beat you to a bloody pulp like Harley Quinn did to her controlling asshole. Only difference is, you're not going to the hospital."

"The fuck–" he bellowed, but they closed in, swinging with all the strength in their arms. Marcus never stood a chance against that desperate wrath.

As last words went, his weren't particularly inspiring.

The police did eventually arrive, in time to pick up his body and photograph the blood splatter, but there were no witnesses to the crime. At least, none who would talk to them. A detective came back the following day to check out the scene, see if any of the locals had changed their minds.

He was the one who saw the fresh tag on the wall, as close as possible to where the body had been left. Working the Bowery, he had a good knowledge of the gangs and their various tags, as well as the taggers who were in it for the art alone and their works. This was nothing he'd ever seen before.

Red and black diamonds, sprayed hastily by someone unfamiliar with the medium, because the paint had pooled and run down in places. Even so, he knew what they were trying to convey.

A harlequin pattern.