Authors' Note: We are not making a statement for or against the legalization of recreational marijuana in this chapter. Nor do either of us personally smoke. It's just a plot point. (Coauthor Anissa is still snorfling over 'hipster ganja' though.)

Also, there's some disturbing imagery in here with Jay's nightmares.

Also-also, we will not be posting a chapter this Sunday, July 12th. Saturday is coauthor Anissa's birthday, and we're taking the weekend to celebrate. See you the 19th!

Hours later, Jay sat up in bed, gasping, his heart pounding. For a moment the quiet bedroom seemed full of light and noise and horror, and he couldn't quite reconcile where he was or what had just happened. He grabbed at his face reflexively, expecting it to be covered in blood. Kala's blood.

As soon as he thought of her, he felt warm hands on his cheeks, worried hazel eyes on his own in the dim light of the room. Kala was right beside him, whole and healthy, her touch moving then, curling her fingers around his. "What is it? What's wrong, Jay, talk to me."

He drew in a deep, shaking breath, and let it out explosively. She was alive. Kala was here, she was alive, it hadn't actually happened. "Nightmare," he croaked out.

"Another one?" Kala asked, her voice gentle.

He'd never told her what the last one was about, and wouldn't. Jay trusted Kala with all of his secrets, but somehow telling her he'd dreamed about shooting her in the face? About actually killing her? He just couldn't bring himself to do that. "Different nightmare. About last night. In the dream … Joker had kryptonite." Jay shuddered again, touching her neck, her throat, miraculously unharmed. That was one similarity between the two dreams, he'd seen her eyes glaze over in them both.

It wasn't real. Even in the half-light, he could see the pain for him in her gaze, Kala leaning in to press her lips against his forehead. "He didn't. I'm okay, Jay. I'm right here, he didn't hurt me."

Without a word, he pulled her into his lap, burying his nose in her neck. For a moment, Kala just sat there and let him hold her, gently running her fingers through his hair, lips against his temple this time. Jay felt her lean away slightly after a while before feeling soft warmth surround him; she had wrapped the burgundy plush throw she'd brought around them both, settling back in with her cheek against his hair.

The smell of her perfume lingered, that sweet candied-violet scent that soothed his soul like nothing else. So much of Jay's life was harsh smells: gun oil, cordite, smoke, sweat, the garbage-y reek of filthy back alleys, the iron tang of blood. To have something delicate and sweet like this was an antidote to all the rest. It was very much a Kala scent, seemingly light and soft, but it had a way of persisting so he caught whiffs of it on his clothes days later. Stronger than it seemed, more complicated than the sweet floral it appeared to be. And who else in his life was whimsical enough to wear candied violets, of all things?

No one. Just Kala.

"You can't let him hurt you," Jay whispered, his eyes burning. "I don't care what else happens. Don't let Joker get his hands on you again. He can kill some civilian, he's killed hundreds before, and I'll put him down someday for all of them. But he can't touch you. He can't… I can't handle that."

"Jay," Kala whispered back, her tone heartbroken as she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. "Don't say that. I won't let him hurt me, Jay, but I can't let him kill someone. I'll stop him, if I have to. I won't let him get that close to me again. He can't have you, either. Don't let him win, Jay. He can't make you let him kill an innocent. We'll stop him together."

There was something stark and final underneath her worry, and he knew it. He'd known it since they first faced the Clown. His girl pulled back, catching his chin, and told him seriously, "If there weren't so many people there, I would've killed him tonight. And it was a struggle not to. The Empress wants him gone, full-stop. I want him gone, too, you have no idea how much. If I didn't know how dangerous it would be for all of us, if I didn't know it'd out my whole family and yours too … and if I hadn't promised you I'd let you have him…"

Jay heaved a sigh, touching her cheek. He wanted to scold her, but couldn't. She knew the dangers as well as he did. "About the only thing that held me back from charging in like a bull was knowing you could just crack the fucker like a glowstick if you had to."

That image broke her serious mien, startling her wide-eyed, only to make her throw her head back in that wonderful laugh. As he knew it would, and Jay laughed too, trying to hide his haunted tone. Her eyes danced then, chasing away the darkness in a way only she could. "Like a glowstick?! Of all the things you could equate him to. Jesus Christ, Jay!"

"Who knows, the bastard might actually glow," Jay chuckled. "The acid turned his skin white and his hair green, maybe it could do that too."

She looked at him, and something in his eyes made her grow solemn again. "We joke, but I mean it, Jay. You don't understand … you know how I feel about him, but she really hates him just as much as I do. She's come to understand what he's done to you now, I think. At least most of it. It was everything I had to hold her back. If he actually had hurt me, on top of that, she would've taken him out no matter what. And I knew exactly how she felt. I wanted to, also, so bad. But I promised you."

Jay scowled. "If he'd had kryptonite, the knife would've cut. You wouldn't have more than a minute. I've seen a severed carotid bleed out before, K. It's fast."

At that, Kala tilted her chin up a little stubbornly, as she always did when he doubted her. "Yes, but I'm faster. Faster than the Joker could ever dream," she said, and something changed. There was a sudden accent on those words. That hazel gaze was still just as steady, but it wasn't only Kala behind her eyes. "We promised we would leave the vermin's death to you, Jason Todd, but neither myself nor the girl are lambs to be slaughtered so easily. I would have slain him for your sake, and our own. Do not think we fail to see how it pains you, every moment that that fatherless creature continues to breathe. He must be ended."

Well hell, the Empress really was coming out a lot more often. And that wasn't the royal we, she was talking about Kala. Jay nodded to her seriously. "Not in public. We got lucky, this time. Don't let the sonofabitch get his hands on you again. He might have a clue what you are, and I'm not gonna lose you."

"Nor will I allow us to lose you. You are ours, Jason Todd, and I will always defend what is mine." Her eyes didn't spark red, but something about her gaze made it clear that the Empress was very, very serious … and not entirely sane.

Shit, neither was he. Although having to focus on her was doing wonders for him not thinking about that nightmare. Jay smirked a little. "Possessive much? You gonna brand the S-shield on my hip?"

Kala Kal-El sneered at that, though her eyes were not as cold as her assessing gaze normally could be. "You know very well I do not mean to claim you as a possession. Do not dissemble with what we both know to be true."

All right, maybe he needed to shift this conversational track a little. "You know something else that's true? We're both naked, you're sitting in my lap, and things are gonna get pretty awkward here in a minute. The thing is, I'm not scared of you like everyone else. And I can't help remembering my earnest attempt to fuck you through this mattress a couple hours ago."

He figured that either the crude language or the sexual innuendo would scare her off. She did suddenly tense up, mostly likely suddenly aware of all the icky anti-Kryptonian skin-to-skin contact going on … but to his surprise, the Empress didn't move or disappear. Instead, her expression slowly softened as she studied his face, searching for something, her brows furrowed. Right about the time Jay would've made another comment, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his this time, Jay only belatedly remembering that he had done so to her the last time.

Jay knew instantly this wasn't Kala. Kala kissed him like his mouth was hers any time she wanted, same as he did, and honestly, he was more than fine with that. She also kissed him sometimes sweet and simple, just a brief bit of affection, something uncomplicated and true. Here, tonight, the Empress kissed him like it meant the world, and like she thought he'd pull away. It surprised him yet again to realize that, maybe, it did mean the world, for her.

So Jay kissed her back, and was mindful of where his hands were, keeping them on her shoulders and her sides. In some ways, for all the ferocious rage that made her seem older and more world-weary than Kala herself, the Empress was still that sixteen-year-old girl, her mind unraveled by lies in the mould of a broken and lost world she had longed for, backed into a corner and fighting for her life. A sixteen-year-old girl who, maybe, somehow saw deep down to that broken and lost kid he used to be and sometimes still was, little as he was willing to admit it.

He couldn't exactly take liberties with her. And wasn't that a ridiculous thought, with her already in his lap and kissing him like she never wanted to stop? What did it say that the Empress would allow herself to do this, when she had always protested human needs?

She pulled back a moment to catch her breath, wide-eyed and looking a bit dazed when she shifted her weight slightly to lean against him, and in a minute or so it was gonna get real awkward for her. No matter what was going on, no matter how complicated his mixed reaction to her alter ego was, Jay always responded to a gorgeous woman kissing him like nothing else under the sun mattered. That it was this woman, well, he was a goner.

"That makes you mine, too," he told her. Jay cupped the back of her neck the way Kala liked, and deepened the kiss. The Empress made a little sound, half surprise and half pleasure, maybe the tiniest moan in the mix, but she didn't draw back until he did, needing air. She looked at him out of Kala's eyes, then, gasping softly, and he saw the instant she realized how she affected him.

For the briefest moment, Jay saw her startled and curious gaze before Kala was back, blinking at him in honest confusion. Jay couldn't help chuckling. "Well, add popping a boner to the list of ways to subdue the Empress."

And Kala, instead of freaking out as she sometimes did when the Empress had taken control, amazed him when she threw her head back and laughed. "Are you serious? Robin, what is it with you and the dick jokes, oh my God! Even with her?"

"Look, just be happy I don't get upset when a woman laughs at my dick," Jay teased.

Kala stopped, looked down, and looked back up at him with a disbelieving expression. "I have never once been anything but appreciative of that specific one, thank you very much. No, I'm laughing because you used the phrase 'pop a boner' about the Empress, of all people, for the love of God."

Jay just shrugged. "Biology happens. And the Empress is making it pretty clear that she's very protective of me. I guess she's decided I'm fun to hang out with. I introduce her to all the best people, you know."

"Yes, well, so we both have that in common." Kala was quiet a moment as she nuzzled him, probably thinking, before she murmured thoughtfully, "Who knows, if she was reaching out to you like that, maybe we're getting closer to healing the split."

Personally, Jay thought she was being too optimistic about that. The Empress was still just as different as she'd ever been, still talking about Kala like she was someone else. She and Kala shared some priorities, and some interests, but they didn't seem any closer to being one person. No, he'd just given the Empress another reason to come out. She started just being protective of Kala's own safety, now she was ready to roll out in Jay's defense, too.

At least they had a better handle on the situation, and he had ways to calm her down. Although this one wasn't going in the file.

Speaking of this … Jay caught hold of Kala's hips and pulled her closer. "Well, in the interest of both of our continued mental health, maybe we should make sure to keep the Empress asleep a little while longer."

Kala smiled, giving him that fey little smile that he knew so well, though those gorgeous eyes were a little sad. "I'd like that. Maybe you'll be able to sleep afterward. Seems like I'm falling down on my job as dreamcatcher."

Jay nudged her nose with his, abruptly enough to startle her, and spoke sternly. "Knock that off. I never expected you to chase off every bad thing that's ever happened to me. You filter out most of it; not your fault the nightmare factory decided to start pumping out some high-test bullshit lately. Now are we gonna have sex, or you wanna beat yourself up some more?"

He half intended to piss her off with that; arguing was better than K blaming herself. Instead, she stroked the back of her hand down over his cheekbone. Her smile was a little wistful then, running her thumb over his lower lip. "My Jaybird, always looking out for me."

"Same way you look out for me, Princess," Jay told her, and that brought the spark back into her eye.

Kala had him pinned before he even knew what was happening, kissing him demandingly. Her eyes had that wild, hungry light back in them when they pulled back for breath, gaze hot on his when she murmured, "Someone had better watch out for that mouth of yours."

With that, Kala nuzzled against his neck, nipping gently, and Jay was all too happy to let her take charge, and let both of them forget the shadows lurking in their minds.

…

Two days after they'd settled into the house in Denver, it was time to go meet the business guys again. At an unholy seven in the morning, too. Harley let Bud and Lou out after breakfast, then locked them into their kennels; she couldn't trust them not to wreck the place while she was gone, and they wouldn't need the extra muscle for this. Stephen and Neal didn't act like the kind of people who had the first clue of where to hire goons, and Pam was fairly relaxed about the meeting.

Then again, Pam was damn near a goddess in her own right, something Harley had whispered in her ear as they snuggled together last night. Usually Pam denied statements like that, but last night she'd just wrapped her arms around Harley and fallen asleep. Which would be a little bit worrying, if Harley hadn't been feeling so damn good.

As it turned out, waking up every morning not sore from a beating, with the endorphin rush of good sex lingering in her brain, and without having to worry about anything, was sort of shockingly nice. For years, Harley had woken up every morning trying to plan ways to not piss off Mistah J, trying to be perfect so he wouldn't have to hurt her. The last few weeks with Pam, she'd woken up every morning worrying about whether the Joker or Batman would find them, knowing that either way she'd probably end up dead. Now, she was getting a taste of security. They'd covered their tracks really well, and she was far enough away from Gotham that she began to feel safe.

Until this morning, when she came back into the rental place's little kitchen – that smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, not because of stress-baking, but because it was a shame not to put that nice shiny new oven to use – and saw Pam looking at her phone with an utterly blank expression. Harley knew that face; Pam never wanted anyone to see her upset or scared, so she just kind of froze up. The impassive mask was intimidating to anyone who didn't know her.

"Pam? What is it?" Harley asked, and all the old ingrained responses kicked in. Where was the nearest weapon, how fast could she grab the essentials and get the boys in the car, did they have time to lay a trap for whoever was coming, could they get out or were they going to have to fight their way out?

The redhead looked up, and her gaze cleared. "Harley … he's back in Arkham."

All the adrenaline whooshed out of her, and Harley leaned on the kitchen counter. "Oh God, I thought you were gonna tell me he was on his way here."

Pam shook her head. "No, not that. But he was taken at the Mistletoe Masquerade. The Bats got him, but he had a hostage who's reportedly unhurt."

Harley shivered. "The Mistletoe thing is run by the Waynes. Selina might've been there with her boy-toy Brucie. He must've been going for her."

"I'm going to check in with her on Capespotting and make sure she's all right," Pam said, scrolling through to the browser and finding the forums. Harley hung over her shoulder; they needed to leave soon, to go do whatever it was Stephen and Neal had hired Pam for, but she was worried anyway.

Pam made a new account with a temporary email address, picking RamblingRose161 for a username, and messaged the moderator of the Catwoman fan page, MeowMix92. In the subject line she just put 'Checking In', and the body of the message was simply, 'Gf and I saw the news about the Mistletoe Masquerade. You ok?'

"She can't really mistake that as being someone else," Harley sighed. "I really hope she's okay."

"Me, too. Come on, let's get ready. It might take her a while to respond." Pam kissed Harley's cheek, and they both got changed for the day.

At home, Pam tended to wear less clothing – she liked sunlight on her skin. Harley never complained, either, she looked damn good in just a blouse and panties, with those long legs on display. Harley herself was more the shorts and t-shirt type. Neither of their around-the-house outfits would work for a business meeting.

Harley thought about wearing her jester uniform for about a tenth of a second, but the image in her mind's eye turned her stomach. Nope, she was done with the whole clown aesthetic for a while, maybe forever. At the same time, it felt weird to go out as herself while wearing normal clothes. There was also a practical side: it was in the forties out there, and she needed to stay warm. Pam had the heat in here cranked up to a balmy seventy-eight degrees, but they were gonna need coats and hats outside.

So she bundled up in layers, and even pulled on gloves. Since they were dealing with civvies, she didn't expect much trouble, but Harley brought her loaded revolver and some extra rounds just in case. The bat and the mallet were both a little too ostentatious; a taser stolen from a cop a while back made a nice backup though.

Pam had dressed much the same, with no visible weaponry because she was the weapon, and was wrapping a scarf around her neck when they met in the garage. There was no small talk during the drive, which turned out to be pretty short, ending at a tall double fence surrounding a huge, low-slung building. There was an intercom at the gate, and all Pam had to say was, "This is Ivy, here to meet with Stephen," and it rolled open all slick and professional. Harley's curiosity was seriously piqued. She desperately wanted to ask what they were doing, but figured Pam would've told her if she wanted her to know. So she waited patiently – something difficult for her, but Pam was worth it.

As they pulled into a garage and parked, Neal was already there to meet them. "Good morning, ladies," he said as they opened their doors.

Harley couldn't help an amused chuckle. "Most people aren't this glad to see us."

Neal looked confused. "Well, we asked you to come here. Why wouldn't we be glad you did?"

Harley just looked at him for a moment, wondering how anyone could be that naïve. Was he really just assuming that as long as he was civil, they'd return the favor? Didn't he read up on either of them? Neither she nor Pam were known for treating people nicely. Well, kids were off limits, and they didn't usually kill civvies, but they weren't good guys. Harley herself had put five men in the hospital while she was at Belle Reve, just because she was bored.

They were prison guards, though, they didn't count as civilians.

"Harley, darling, don't scare the man," Ivy said with a trace of humor in her voice, and Harley shook herself. Right, they were playing nice.

"Sure, sweetie," Harley said, and hopped out of the van, closing her door behind her. The garage was enclosed so the wind couldn't reach them, but that kept out the sun, too, so the space was as cold as a refrigerator. She shivered, and followed Pam and Neal into the building.

The first room was all gleaming white and chrome, some kind of showroom where the products weren't actually on display, just the company name in tasteful green font. Stephen met them there, and the two men led them straight through to a hallway, and then an anteroom that brought back memories of lab class in medical school. Along one wall was a row of white lab coats and a rack of gloves, caps, masks, and even booties to cover their shoes. Everything was brand-new and the coats all had the company name on them, too.

Pam looked at it all with a cynical eye as Neal and Stephen both started gloving up. "Is all of this entirely necessary?" Pam asked.

"Our reputation is built on the purity of our product. We're working with very delicate, rare strains here – any outside contamination could set us back years in development," Stephen said with an apologetic shrug.

Sighing, Pam lifted a lab coat from the rack, and Harley followed her example. Once they were all gloved up, Neal led them into the next room, and Harley got her first hint of what was really going on here.

The entire massive room was one enormous hydroponics operation, with thousands of seedlings about a foot high. Harley recognized the leaves, and bit her lip against the exclamation of surprise she wanted to make. With superhuman self-control, she managed to just say, "Pammy?"

"Yes," Pam said, cutting her a quelling look.

Neal turned around, and beamed. She'd seen that nerdy grin before, including in the mirror. Obviously he was the lab guy, while Stephen was the front-office guy. "It's amazing, isn't it? Everything's computer-controlled, the water level, the airflow, the humidity, the macronutrient levels, the light duration, all of it. We have continuous video monitoring too. No one actually needs to walk into these rooms, except to double-check the system, until they're ready to move to the grow-outs."

Harley was all out of self-control. She didn't want to crap all over the guy's enthusiasm, though, so she looked at Pam. "Ivy, sweetheart, you know they grow pot in Gotham, too, right?"

"Not like this," Neal said quickly, with a slightly fanatical gleam in his eye. "Recreational marijuana isn't legal in your state yet, but it is here. So we don't have to hide our operation. We can comply with all state laws and build the perfect growing operation. This isn't a dozen random-bred plants in someone's basement; this is one of four isolated rooms growing almost thirty different varieties of sativa and indica strains, as well as carefully-selected hybrids. Our main business is producing seed for other breeders and growers. No one else has a facility this advanced."

Stephen cut in then. "Much of our original seedstock came from British Columbia, where cannabis has been legal for years. They really have a jump on us in terms of experience, and there are actually a lot of other facilities similar to this one, if not quite as state of the art."

"Phillips is still growing outdoors," Neal muttered, in the same tone Harley would've ascribed to someone in the medical field basing their treatment on the four humours.

"The point is, our edge on the market comes from having access to the rare, pure strains that no one else seems to have," Stephen continued. "Unfortunately, some of those strains are extremely slow-growing. In the time it takes us to get one batch of plants to flower, our competitors can get through two generations of their hybrids. We have much more specialized plants, with higher levels of THC or CBD for different needs, but we're being out-competed by high volumes of mediocre product."

Harley nodded, trying to control her expression. "Gotcha. This isn't pot. This is artisanal marijuana. Boutique reefer. You guys are the Evian of weed."

Pam smirked a little, but no one laughed – though Neal did look a little stung. "For years, people only bred for THC content, and now there's more information on the medicinal effects of CBD, too. Plus people want reliable blends of both, and there's lots of interest in the historical landrace strains. We're on the verge of losing some of the earlier genetics, and who knows how the market will change tomorrow? No one predicted the shift to CBD strains, and everyone's scrambling to make hybrids that meet today's needs. We're trying to preserve some cannabis history, and position ourselves to create the next generation of hybrids for the modern consumer's tastes. The key might lie in some of the older, more neglected strains that have been ignored in favor of new hybrids."

"We're not exactly here to judge you, gentlemen. And I assure you, I understand the value of conservation for its own sake," Pam said, giving Harley a sidelong glance. Under that look, she managed not to say 'hipster ganja' out loud, and just nodded. It was good work, but kinda downmarket for someone like Poison Ivy. Then again, she'd chosen the venue, and she turned to the men to say, "Let's get to work, shall we?"

Neal nodded, and as he walked down the long row of plants, he told them a little more about the operation. Obviously the whole thing was his pride and joy, and Harley couldn't help liking the sheer geekiness on display. "This room's seedlings are all clones of sativa strains being produced for the sale of seeds. We've got them sorted, females in this room, males in the next, with completely separate and redundant air filtration so we don't have any accidental pollination. Only when it's time to breed do we bring them together. The female plants are also examined daily for any signs of damage that might lead to hermaphroditism. Some operations use those hermaphrodites to produce feminized seed for commercial sale to smaller growers, but we're primarily breeders. We want to explore new phenotypes within the pure strains and create our own hybrids."

Pam walked down a row parallel to him, and she didn't touch a single plant … but they all stirred slightly in their pots, stems bending toward her. Stephen, walking down the outside of the last row with Harley, widened his eyes a little at the sight. "You did know who you were hiring, right?" she asked softly.

"It's a little different, seeing her in person," Stephen murmured.

"Can't argue with that," Harley replied, glancing toward Pam with a fond smile.

Neal led them through an airlock to another room at the back of the first one, where the rich scent of loam made a stark contrast to the faint chemical smell of the hydroponic setup. He had twenty young plants there, in large pots of soil, and looked hopefully at Pam. "All of these girls are purebred Black African Magic. Very rare, in the current market. Those two rows in the first room are all seedlings produced by cloning from the two adult female plants we were able to propagate. These are the results of breeding those two females, and I've got some males in the next room. If we can bring these seedlings to flowering age faster, we can start breeding our own strain and selecting for exactly the traits we want."

Pam nodded, and simply said, "Stand back. Get ready to water them, too."

He did so, nervously, watching the plants as he picked up a small hose. They were even smaller than the ones in the first room, maybe eight inches high, and they looked comically tiny in the big pots. Ivy stepped up to the first two plants, and held her hands out above them.

Harley knew what was coming, but the two men gasped when those first plants shot upward. Ivy looked up, her eyes blazing, and the rest of them began to grow, too. The pots crackled as the roots strained for room, and soon the dark leaves were higher than Pam's head. The smell of green, growing things filled the room, and Harley smiled. She might be more used to acid and cordite and gasoline, herself, but Pam always brought the scent of life.

"That is incredible," Neal whispered, looking up at the waving fronds in disbelief even as he watered the pots.

When Ivy spoke, he looked at her, and noticed the change in her eyes. For the first time, the guy looked really worried. But all she said was, "You love them, your green children. Not the profit they make for you. You love them."

"Yes, I suppose so," he said awkwardly. "It's an amazing challenge and puzzle to figure them out. How…?"

Poison Ivy smiled at him, as the nearest plants bent their leaves to stroke her upraised hands. "They told me so. Come, show me the rest. These will flower today, they must have males available."

For the next hour, Neal and Stephen led them both into a bunch of similar rooms, and Ivy worked her magic. Tiny sprouts became towering plants, and the men looked on in awe. For most of the strains, there was a room full of clones and then a separate group of seedlings, and Neal couldn't help murmuring a bit of information about each. "Hindu Kush, an indica strain, possibly the closest we have to the original variety from which everything else was developed. These days, it's so heavily hybridized the pure genetics are on the verge of being lost," he said of one group. In the next room, he pointed out, "Original Haze, the parent strain of many hybrids including Hawaiian Snow." And then Lamb's Breath, Angola Roja, true Panama Red, Malawi Gold … Harley's head began to spin with all the various names, most of which were apparently on the verge of extinction for one reason or another and almost all seemed to be imported at great expense.

Finally the tour ended in an office, with a couple of briefcases Harley assumed were full of the rest of their payment. By this time, the two men ought to know not to try and stiff them. Both Neal and Stephen seemed thrilled, and Pam was looking a little fatigued. Harley figured they were winding down, and hoped like hell Pam had gotten a good price from them. Whatever they paid, they'd certainly gotten their money's worth.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," Stephen said, and clicked open the first briefcase. Harley took out a stack of hundreds and fanned it, smiling. This was a damn good score – and even more so when the second, smaller briefcase turned out to contain diamonds. Harley had to admire Pam's savvy. By splitting the payment into two different forms and getting some of it up front, she'd made it easier for them to transfer their funds. And the total was very nice: a cool twenty million for an hour's work.

Then again, who else in the world could do what Pam had just done?

…

Jay woke up slowly from an annoying dream of trying to catch up to Kala at the airport. Why the hell scenes from the summer were replaying now, he had no idea, but for whatever reason, he was dreaming about shoving through a crowd of commuters and yelling at her to wait. The most illogical thing about it was K not hearing him. He had something he needed to tell her, and couldn't catch her in time.

Fucking bullshit. At least it beat last night's nightmare. He didn't want to see Kala's blood anymore. The images were too damn disturbing. At least chasing her through an airport was just irritating.

He sat up, raking a hand through his hair, and looked over at her. Jay stopped cold, staring in disbelief.

Kala lay on her side, holding her pillow; they'd ended up sleeping back to back last night. Usually she sprawled all over him or he wrapped around her, but maybe he'd just tossed and turned last night. Apparently someone thought she needed extra cuddles, though, because there were five fucking cats lined up down the length of her body. Plus two more on his goddamn bed.

Perched on Kala's pillow, Miss Kitty looked at him and blinked slowly. Norway was curled up on Kala's bare shoulder, fluffy tail draped down her arm. The one they rescued from the garland, Batty, was draped over Kala's ribs on top of the covers. The two tabbies, Bolt and Belle, had somehow managed to twine around each other and still have space on Kala's hip. And the other black one, Lydia, was sitting in the crook of her knee. At the foot of the bed was the black and white one who had climbed the Christmas tree, Freyja, and as soon as Jay looked directly at her, she leapt off the bed and hid under it.

"How the actual fuck did you guys get in here?" Jay asked aloud in utter disbelief.

The sound of his voice in the silent room made Kala start and she raised her head blearily before noticing the furry weights ranged down her side. "Well, good morning, girls," she said, her voice still fuzzy.

Miss Kitty yawned, and under the bed, Freyja waowed at them. Kala shifted to look up, and saw Miss Kitty over her head. Sleepy as she was, she turned a smile of affectionate surprise on Selina's favorite and held out her hand for a dainty sniff. "Oh, hi. Good morning. This is unexpected. And they're all purring, too. I guess I got the red carpet treatment this morning, huh, pretty girl?"

"You are the red carpet. K, how'd they get in here? I have security, for fuck's sake." Jay stood up, finding his boxers tangled in the sheets, and padded over to the door – which was still locked. "This is goddamn impossible."

"They managed it somehow," Kala countered, slowly sitting up, trying to disturb them as little as possible. Despite her care, the cats jumped off her as she rose and got comfortable on Jay's bed; he hoped like hell none of them had fleas. He'd had fleas before, they were a bitch to get rid of.

A more extensive check revealed a window was open. Jay didn't have bars on it; he used the windows as potential exits. He always locked the one that opened to the fire escape, and the window closest to the bed was the one Kala had burst in the one time. Usually he kept it locked, too. Jay stared at it, and a hazy memory surfaced of cracking it open last night for some fresh air. That was right after they'd gotten themselves all heated up, so it made sense – and he knew he could leave a window cracked, when he had a Kryptonian in his bed.

Jay opened it further and leaned out, trying to see how the cats had come in. He felt fur brush his arm, and Miss Kitty nonchalantly leapt down to the three-inch-wide stringcourse two feet below his window. Strolling as easily as if it were highway width, and not thirty-five fucking stories up, she went around the corner to the fire escape. That wasn't an easy transition, either, Jay had knocked down the protruding brick there with a hammer to make any adventurous burglars think twice. Besides, the fire escape itself was rigged with a hot wire at the second story, so no one would try climbing up from the ground. "Jesus fuck, K, these ballsy goddamn cats," he said, and then realized all the windows on the cats' floor should've been locked, too. "Hey, all the windows were locked, weren't they?"

"Donna and I looked, they all seemed painted shut," Kala said, coming over to him with a worried frown.

The rest of the cats were in no hurry to follow Miss Kitty, so Jay closed the window. "Let's herd them down a little bit more safely," he said.

Nodding, Kala grabbed some clean clothes from the stash of her stuff in his dresser, while Jay just threw on a shirt and jeans. The cats all perked up, watching them with interest, and when Jay went toward the door, all of them followed except for Freyja. "I guess you'd better get the Fraidy-cat," Jay said.

"Come on, girl," Kala said, crouching down to peer under the bed. There were more complaining whines, that drew all the other cats back to Kala, but when she stood up with the black and white cat in her arms, they all clustered around her feet like something out of a Disney film. Jay just shook his head, disarmed the door, and headed for the stairs. He didn't think he could get all of them into the elevator.

Halfway down the stairwell, Miss Kitty met them, perched in the stairwell window that Jay left open for air circulation. The stairwell windows all had bars and wire mesh, but Jay now saw the mesh in this one had come up in one corner. There was just enough room for a cat to squeeze through, which meant the escapees had gotten into the stairwell, out this window, along the stringcourse to the fire escape, then climbed that to his floor and followed that stringcourse around to the open window. One hell of a journey just to sleep on a Super.

"Thanks, cat. I need to fix this," Jay said, and Miss Kitty meowed at him as if answering. She hopped off and trotted down the stairs.

All of them were clustered at Kala's feet when Jay open the door into the tenth floor, the only stairwell door he'd left unlocked in case they needed to evac the cats … and his jaw dropped, staring. "What the fuck…?"

"Holy shit," Kala whispered, and set down Freyja.

Bits of rope and carpet fuzz from the cat trees were scattered everywhere. And the hallway paint had long, ragged furrows raked into it. Jay saw smudgy paw prints all the way up to his head height. And in the middle of the hallway, Miss Kitty sat down to groom her paws with a nonchalant air.

Jay took out his phone and dialed the Manor. Alfred answered, and only for his sake was Jay civil. "Hey, is Selina up? Her cats went ballistic."

"I shall see if she is available. May I place the call on hold?" Alfred asked.

"Of course," Jay said, and then seethed silently until Selina picked up. He didn't let her get two words in before he said sharply, "You're gonna owe me a complete deep-clean and repaint on this entire floor, Catwoman."

"What?" she replied. "I told them…"

"Well they didn't fuckin' listen," Jay shot back.

Kala cleared her throat, looking at him. "To be fair, Miss Kitty probably freaked out last night. That would've gotten the others stirred up too."

"To be fair, all this has to be sanded and repainted. There's claw marks almost to the ceiling, Selina." Jay couldn't help softening a little when Kala pointed that out, though. Selina had been in danger last night, and she'd left Miss Kitty locked up here. Not that he didn't suspect that cat could get out of anything. She'd somehow gotten the stairwell door open early this morning … and closed it behind her, too.

"I'm good for it, you know I am," Selina said. "I can't blame her for being upset. Cats are very sensitive."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, and Hoods are sensitive to property destruction. I swear to God, Selina, if they pissed all over the place, you're gonna pay for new floors."

Selina said hastily, "She wouldn't do that. Look, do you want me to come over there?"

"No, it's fine. We need to talk about moving them back at some point. With Joker in Arkham, you don't quite need my level of security." Jay couldn't blame her for being worried.

Selina sounded a little more relaxed. "True. Hopefully Joker stays there longer this time. Listen, Bruce is expecting you both to come over here for a debrief. Will you bring Miss Kitty? I miss my girl, and she'll settle down if she's with me."

"How are we supposed to bring her if she won't go in the carrier?" Jay asked.

"Just tell her you're coming to see me, she'll follow you," Selina said blithely.

Jay looked at Miss Kitty, who stopped grooming between her toes to look up at him. He could almost swear that was a questioning expression. "Selina, are you telling me that cat understands English?"

"Of course not!" Selina laughed. "But cats understand a lot more than we give them credit for. They can read more in your body language and tone of voice than words would ever tell. Miss Kitty is very perceptive."

Jay stared at the elegant black cat, who hiked her leg further up and began grooming the base of her tail pointedly. Kala stifled a laugh. Jay just said into the phone. "I'm calling bullshit on that. This cat is not fucking normal. Where'd you get her, Selina?"

"Miss Kitty just wandered into my life one day when I really needed her. Like most cats do," Selina told him.

"Was this before or after you became Catwoman?" he asked.

"Jay," Kala hissed warningly.

"I was always Catwoman. I just didn't always know it. See you shortly, Hood. I'll go tell Bruce you're conscious." With that, Selina hung up on him.

"Well that was cryptic as fuck," Jay commented, sticking the phone back in his pocket.

"Aren't cats naturally cryptic?" Kala asked lightly.

"Selina isn't a cat, no matter how hard she tries," Jay said, and grinned. "Hell, you think Bruce would've noticed if she turned into a leopard like something outta Cat People."

Kala startled. "You saw that one, too?"

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. "It was on TV one night. I like old horror movies – they're more campy than scary. How did you end up seeing it? I figured it'd be too schlocky for you."

"Oh no, I love to watch bad horror movies. I like them more than the good ones, usually. There's this series…" Kala trailed off, and her expression changed.

"What is it?" Jay asked, looking at her worriedly.

She gave him a sad smile. "I was about to start extolling the virtues of the Chupacabra series. I've got all of them on Blu Ray, and they're between halfway decent for a Mexican B-movie, and that means they're terrible. But Sebast was the one who watched them all with me. That was his prescription for a bad breakup: mango ice cream and monster movies."

Jay nodded, treading carefully. She and Sebast had a whole history together he mostly knew nothing about, and all kinds of little insider stuff like that. K didn't hide things from him, it just hadn't come up in conversation. He couldn't get pissy at her for having had a relationship with the guy. Especially not when breakup-consolation was definitely best-friends territory.

So he just gave her a grin, and said, "I think I've seen one of those. Isn't it kind of Jaws on land? Stupid developer wants to build a resort in the jungle when everybody knows there's something out there eating people?"

"That's Chupacabra 3D: Goatsucker's Revenge," Kala said promptly. "They had a better effects budget for that one. Funny you mention Jaws – most of the critics credit the success of the original Chupacabra film to the fact that you never see the monster. In Jaws, they spent tons of money on the animatronic sharks – named Bruce, by the way – and then they didn't work half the time, so Spielberg had to rethink how he was going to shoot it, and show the shark as little as possible. It's great for suspense. Chupacabra: Night of the Goatsucker did the same thing because their trained, costumed dog ran off three days into filming. Be glad you only saw the third one; it and the first are pretty much the best."

Jay cocked his head in surprise. "Holy shit, Roger Ebert, I didn't realize you watched the making-of and everything. Hell, I didn't even know you watched scary movies."

"I'm pretty much Goth, for all intents and purposes, Jay; it kinda comes with the territory," Kala laughed. "Just don't, please don't watch the rest of the Chupacabra movies. The sixth one came out last year and it sucks. It's not bad enough to be fun, it's just bad."

"Now I'm gonna watch it," he teased, and she mock-scowled at him. At least he'd successfully prevented her from getting maudlin over the whole Sebast situation.

Miss Kitty, sitting between them, tipped her head back and gave a tiny, bell-like mew. When they both looked at her, she opened her green eyes wide, and mewed again. Kala chuckled. "Well, she's finished her bath and wants us to get a move on, I guess. I'll sweep this up later. Let me make sure they have food and water before we go, okay? Give us just a bit, beauty, and we'll get you back to Selina, okay?" Again, that dainty mew, and Kala gave a small laugh and a smile. "Okay. Soon."

"Sure," Jay said, and as Kala went to check the automatic feeders and the water fountains, he looked down at Miss Kitty skeptically. "Listen, are you some kind of supernatural creature? Because you're weird as fuck, and Selina's not normal either."

Miss Kitty crossed her eyes and sneezed at him, then started scratching her ear. Jay wasn't buying it. Kala, who had heard him ask, snorted amusement from the nearest room.

…

Halfway across the world, the last light was bleeding from the sky, and Adem was finally off duty. He'd spent the past eight hours on surveillance of an utterly nondescript handful of buildings in a walled compound, the residence of one particular family. With a scope and a directional microphone, he might as well have been sitting beside them as the women hung out laundry to dry, and the elderly patriarch complained about everything from his dinner, to the type of laundry soap they used, to the fecklessness of today's youth. It had been a struggle not to fall asleep at his post. He would rather have spent his time watching the fennec fox that lived nearby as it hunted jirds among the scrubby plants. Nothing about this family – the old man, his wife, their two absent sons and their wives, and five children – merited any kind of notice.

Except, of course, for the fact that their home lay within a mile of the Tibesti mountain compound that Shiva wanted. Adem's immediate superior, one of Shiva's lieutenants named Tareq, suspected that they might be advance lookouts for Ra's al Ghul. Talia had not indicated there were any scouts in the area, but he was well aware she didn't tell him everything. The many perks of his position were worth putting up with a little secrecy.

He completed his shift without complaint, and returned to their camp to hand his notes over to Tareq. The older man looked through them, and tossed them aside. "They would not reveal their purpose until they sighted a stranger, anyway. Ah well, we cannot discount them."

"I doubt they would pose much threat," Adem replied. "Both sons work in the city, and the old man needs a cane and ten minutes just to reach his chair in the sun."

"Don't discount the women. If I learned nothing else from Ra's al Ghul, it was never to assume a woman was harmless. Have you met the daughter?" Tareq asked.

"No more than I met the father," Adem replied, the lie floating easily on his tongue. "They gave me orders, I did not sit down to tea with either of them."

"Hmph. Beware of her. Treacherous as an adder, that one, and swifter to strike. If she arrives in Libya, we must move quickly. I'll not get caught between Lady Shiva and the Demon's Daughter," Tareq replied.

Adem nodded, thinking that the poor fool had no idea he was already caught between them – and on the wrong side. He also thought it was amusingly hypocritical of the man to call Talia treacherous, when he was the one betraying the Demon.

Oh, it was technically true. Talia did work against her father, when she felt it necessary, but she was far more loyal than anyone participating in this insurrection. The problem was, she let her heart rule her, and Adem was under no illusions about just who that heart belonged to. Not him, certainly. He was a useful diversion to Talia – though her essentially sentimental nature meant she couldn't quite help being fond of him. As long as he never betrayed her, that fondness kept him very well cared for, and very wealthy.

Talia would stab him, if she knew he thought such things of her; she despised being seen for the romantic she was. Her father was right on that score, she had a woman's soft-heartedness, though she kept it buried beneath layers of ruthless, murderous practicality.

And Tareq would gun him down, if he had any idea where Adem's loyalties really lay.

Adem felt the air change, as the door behind him opened, and he swiftly stepped aside. Turning to face the newcomer, he stopped with one hand on the hilt of his knife, and bowed his head instead of drawing the blade. "Lady Shiva," he murmured in his most respectful tone.

She regarded him silently for a moment, and Adem kept his head down, his gaze focused on her shoes. He was accustomed to the regard of dangerous, arrogant people – and she would have to alter her stance, if she meant to strike at him, so watching her feet was as good an advance warning as he might get.

Tareq had risen too, bowing to his new leader, and Shiva said quietly, "You are dismissed," before turning her attention to her lieutenant.

Adem dipped his head a little further, not wanting to seem too presumptuous, and scurried out. Honestly, he didn't have to fake all of the trepidation; the fact that Talia refused to face her spoke volumes about how deadly Shiva could be.

As the door closed behind him, he heard Tareq reporting to Shiva. Adem only caught about half the words – but he only needed one to know he had to report back to Talia, immediately.