Authors' Note: We apologize for the delay in posting this one. Work stress, seasonal stress, and election stress just hammered us to pieces. We didn't want to post a subpar chapter; it felt right to take an extra week, get this one smoothed out, and start on the next. Things are evening out, and we intend to continue posting weekly.

You are going to see the Libya subplot playing out in the next few chapters. Cass and Steph become more important to the story going forward, and we want them both to have a proper introduction.


As Kala tried to even out her shaky breath, Lois felt a wave of compassion for her. She loved her children so damn much, always, but Kala was so much like her in so many ways that it was a special kind of pain to see her hurt. Especially like this. Lois had had her heart broken and mended and broken again far too often. And it seemed sometimes like Kala was destined to follow in her footsteps when it came to romance.

Kal-El had sat up when Kala came in, but Lois put a hand on his shoulder. "This is girl talk, hero. Go back to sleep for a while. I've got her." He was exhausted from the day he'd had, a constant series of not-quite-minor issues that had kept him running, and he'd fallen into bed hours ago and been asleep almost from the instant he hit the pillow. Lois saw his furrowed brow, and knew he would want the play-by-play later on; anything that made his daughter cry roused all of the protective paternal instincts. Like it or not, Kala would always be his baby girl, who had always gazed up at him with all her trust and belief. Still, he trusted Lois to know what she was doing, and let her slip from the bed without complaint.

Lois threw a robe over her nightgown and caught her daughter's shoulders, steering her toward the kitchen. Kala went willingly enough, still giving little hitching sobs, and Lois got them both seated at the kitchen table. "C'mere, baby," she murmured, placing her chair close to Kala's, and tugging her tall child down to lean on her shoulder.

That unleashed the floodgates Lois knew hadn't been emptied, and Kala wept brokenly, clutching her shoulders. Her mother could only press her lips to her temple and hold her tight. Oh, how it hurt to hear, even though her child, her own little look-alike was an adult now. The urge to slay all of her monsters never went away; her little girl was stubborn and reckless and rarely cried. To see her like this tore at her.

But then, Kala had her father's heart, she always had, and being forced to let go had always been hard for her, no matter how amicable the parting. She loved easily, for all of her wild temper, and most of the time, forgave the same way. And there could be no mistaking that she had truly fallen for Bruce's middle boy. Kala just held on to her mother as she had as a child, taking as much comfort as she could. Soul-deep pain in those sobs, wretched mourning, and Lois just held her and stroked her hair and rubbed her back, making soothing sounds but not trying to talk yet. Coherence would come later.

Lois herself had had nights like this over Kal-El. One New Year's Eve in particular, she'd gone to bed sobbing, feeling old and alone and miserable. She'd consoled Kala through breakups before, but this was different, this was sharper and deeper than ever before. Maybe because this time it wasn't a mutual thing, realizing they didn't quite match. Jay had seemed perfectly suited to her; as odd as it had seemed to all of them at first, the two of them had managed to overcome distance and outside interference and everything else. But now he'd broken it off, and Lois realized her poor kid had never been dumped before.

Part of Lois, the part that had thoroughly earned her momma-bear reputation, wished she could deliver the ammo she'd joked about giving Jay for Christmas. Without gift wrapping. Most of her knew, despite being pissed at him, that there were other factors in play here. Jay had issues of his own. Issues that they were all aware of.

Eventually Kala quieted to hiccups, and sat up with a wan smile. "I'm sorry I got you all snotty," she said, her lower lip still trembling. "Feels like I'm doing that a lot lately."

Her heart ached for her, but she gave her child her best knowing look, ticking her dark brow up. Enough heartache for the moment. "Kid, need I remind you that you've puked in my face on more than one occasion?" Lois said dryly. "And let's not even talk about the time you peed right around your diaper and all over my lap. After the growing years with you two, a little snot isn't a big deal."

As she intended, that earned her a laugh, Kala actually brightening a little. "You always know just the right Hallmark moment to bring up," she finally said, flashing a brief smile.

"It's a gift," Lois explained. "Okay, so let me make us some hot chocolate, and then tell me what happened."

Kala took a deep, shuddering breath, but managed to keep herself composed as Lois warmed up some milk and mixed them each a mug of sinfully rich hot chocolate, topping it with whipped cream. She had a feeling they would both need comfort calories. While she did that, Kala began slowly relaying the day's events. Lois had seen the coverage of the riot, and knew her daughter's flight was no longer a secret, but she hadn't attached any special significance to it. Now that she knew Two-Face had made a specific threat toward Kala, and that others were thinking the same way, she felt herself bristling. Let one of Bruce's rogues cross her sights, she'd put an end to that bullshit right away. Assuming Kal-El didn't do it first. Lois had always had the feeling that his no-kill rule had a few exceptions for her and the kids. Everyone else was just fortunate that it had never come to that.

Kala struggled to keep from crying again as she related the argument, and Lois could tell how utterly blindsided she'd been by Jay's sudden viciousness. She managed to just listen, setting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them, nodding and holding Kala's hand while she spoke. It was an enough to restrain herself, but she did it for Kala. Growling threats at Jay wouldn't be productive just now.

Wiping her eyes, Kala finished by telling her about hiding in the Monarch Theater, hoping Jay would come to take it all back, and realizing he wasn't going to. Letting go, letting the Empress take over, and then coming back to herself only after her dark side had hunted down Joker's men and Dick had found her.

"Dick tried to tell me that Jay didn't mean it, that he was just running scared," Kala concluded, determined even as her voice shook. "That doesn't matter. I love him, Momma, I know I love him. But … but I can't forgive that. Not right now, maybe not ever. He hurt me, he lied to me either way, and I'm too much your daughter to give second chances that easily."

Lois pressed a kiss to her forehead before catching her chin to look her in the eye. Thank God, her fussy baby had grow up strong, knowing she only had to do what she chose to do. They had done a good job, she and Kal-El. "Good girl," said, her voice low and fierce. "Even if he was just scared, he's responsible for how he treated you. Your father's made mistakes, and he owns up to them. But he tries not to make them on purpose."

Kala gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah, but I think we both know there aren't a lot of men like Dad."

The girl had a point, but she was forgetting something. Lois heaved a sigh. "To be fair, your father thought he was fixing things and keeping me safe when he took my memories. It's the worst thing he's ever done, and it took me a good six years and two kids to get over it."

"Six years sounds about right, but I'll pass on the kids," Kala said dryly, still resting her head on Lois' shoulder. "God. The more I think about it, the more I'm starting to think Dick was right. As soon as Joker started eyeing me, Jay started to get flaky. And in his self-defeating way, he decided to keep me safe by running me out of town. Idiot. Why are boys so dumb?"

"I wish I knew," Lois said, heartfelt agreement in her voice.

Kala rubbed her eyes again, determination beginning to overtake the heartbreak in her expression. "I'm done for a while. Strictly girls. At least their issues are different."

"Atta girl. Fly to Themyscira and bring us home a nice Amazon," Lois said. The joke landed well, Kala laughed a little. "Seriously though, sweetheart, take some you time. Love like this isn't easy to get over."

"I don't know. I don't know what to do from here. Right now, I don't want to care about him. I really don't. But I remember one thing, Momma. Angry as you were at Dad, even when he wasn't here, especially because he wasn't here, you never stopped loving him," Kala pointed out, proving that the journalistic eye for nuance was present even at six years old. Her expression was still so sad, so tired. "You're right, I need some me time, though. There's just so much to sort out and I don't even know where to start. Good thing I'm not afraid to be on my own. Although … can I stay here tonight?"

Lois nodded. "Of course. I don't care if you're fifty, you're always welcome here. But … is Sebast at your house?"

"I don't know," Kala said, looking downcast again. "And I don't really want to call or fly by to look. He's supposed to be back from Ponce soon, and the label wants us to meet up when the tour resumes."

"Don't worry about it tonight. C'mon, we'll put fresh sheets on your old bed and you can get some rest," Lois said, putting out her hand to help her up, determined to skirt the topic of Sebast for now. That was a whole other set of complications.

"I can try, at least," Kala said bleakly, taking her hand and standing. Before Lois could lead her away, her daughter asked softly, plaintively, "Momma?"

"Yes?" Lois replied, glancing back at her, the tone of Kala''s voice bringing back those memories of her as a little girl. For a moment, all she could see was her baby, dressed in a uniform just a bit too big for her. As scrappy and brave as she was, even back then, she could be hurt and would always run for her at her smallest. Lois hoped, even now, that she knew she always could.

Tear-stained eyes so like her own looked back at her, making Lois' heart contract painfully. "I love you. Thank you." Her voice broke again on that, and Lois just folded her daughter into her arms.

It was going to be a long night, probably sleepless and full of tears, but the truth of living with Supers was that the dawn would always come again. Always.

Cassandra Cain had no interest in dealing with the others. Just Sandra Wu-San. She managed to elude most of the guards, tracking back to the Lazarus Pit. Sooner or later, Shiva would go there, to stare at the roiling waters of death and life. It would exert a hold on her, draw her in with fascination, the way snakes supposedly hypnotized their prey.

That was false, of course, a story for children. Stephanie had told her so, and Steph was so honest with her that it hurt to see. It also hurt to leave Steph hidden in the storeroom. Cass would be back for her, soon enough, and she'd be safe until then. Safer than she would be out here, trying in her earnest well-meaning way to tip the balance between two martial artists who both outclassed her by an order of magnitude. What she didn't seem to understand was that Cass knew her interference might be the crucial difference that made it easier for her to win against her mother. Cass only feared that Steph would sacrifice herself in doing so. And she couldn't have blood on her hands. Not again.

Not Steph's.

So she stalked her mother, lying in wait on the metal structure that supported the chain hoist. Her black uniform hid her well, and she knew how to compress herself into the shadows so as to give no hint of her outline. Below her, the Lazarus Pit bubbled, its stench never quite numbing her nose. Cass thought of death, destruction, decay; she wondered how the man she'd killed so long ago at her father's urging looked now. Probably just a skeleton, but in her mind she saw a horror of sloughing skin and bloated belly and hazy flyblown eyes. Maggots squirming in his ears, his nostrils, the hollow of his throat, his navel.

And yet, Cass had opened a book or two on mythology. Her reading was slow, painstaking, something she did for a purpose, not for pleasure. Especially in English, because English had so few rules for spelling and pronunciation, and so many exceptions that it was almost more exception than rule. Maddening, to learn now, when the language centers of her brain were sluggish with maturity.

Shiva was the Hindu god of destruction, yes, but in so doing he opened the way for rebirth, for life, for enlightenment. He was highly honored, not feared the way western religions feared death. Somewhere she had read that death without life was a void, sterility, nothingness – but life without death was cancer. Creation required destruction, and the two existed in balance.

The thought of life everlasting, life renewed again and again like re-checking out the same library book so she could keep crawling through its pages, sent a chill down her spine. It was unnatural. Evil. The smell of the Lazarus Pit told its power clearly, strong whiffs of jasmine not quite blotting out the corruption. It was life and death wound together and twisted in on themselves, in defiance of the balance that should exist everywhere. Cass hated it, as she hated very little in the world.

Shiva came, as Cass knew she would. The fascination drew her. Life and death. Life beyond death. She mounted the ladder and walked across the catwalk, almost directly below her daughter, staring down. The smell didn't bother her, but then, she'd killed more than a few in her time.

Cass wondered if she thought of her victims. If she imagined their bones sending up this rich stink as the marrow decayed. Perhaps she did. There was something about Shiva, some strange yearning in the way she fought, and Cass had a suspicion of what it might be. She'd told her daughter once that the only way to become a truly great fighter was not to fear death. To welcome it, even. Only then could anyone transcend the hesitation that held most people back.

Perhaps she was a little too welcoming of death. Perhaps, in making herself the most feared martial artist in the world, Shiva had reached a point where only sparring with Death itself could quicken her pulse and make her feel alive.

Her daughter understood the feeling. Cass knew the adrenaline rush of fighting for her life against terrible odds. She'd faced it in Shiva, and in others. Her vision would sharpen, time seemed to slow, her mind cleared of everything except the battle and her foes' intentions. It was almost a meditation, a perfect flow state, and she could see why Batman feared for Shiva. He said she was addicted to that feeling, and oh, it was sweet.

But there was more in the world that was sweet than just dancing with death. There was Stephanie, for whom Cass didn't even need her understanding of body language. Everything in Steph was right there on the surface, her fierce love for the people she considered 'hers', her heartbreak at every loss, her fear of not being good enough. Cass could read her blindfolded from two rooms away, just by the sound and texture of a sigh.

Against all the drama of life and death and facing her origins, facing her mother, Cass could set two tiny things: the taste of raspberry balm on Steph's lips, and the blonde's hand in hers, seeking and giving comfort. Not an ounce of fear or awe; she was impressed by Cass' skills, but Steph more than anyone else in the world didn't treat her like some kind of freak, some preternaturally gifted savant. Steph would talk to her about clothes, while curled up next to her twining Cass' hair around her fingers.

The taste of her lips and the feel of her fingers laced through Cass' own. That was enough to tip the scales and make all of this look tawdry. Steph was real. This was a life out of a storybook, midnight chases under the desert moon and a foretold confrontation with her own past.

And yet, she couldn't walk away. Cass couldn't just close this book and start writing her own, get an apartment with Steph and live something like a normal life. They were both good with hurting, damaged people, they could become counselors or something. Cass saw it in Steph's eyes, sometimes, the promise of a sane life, one that made sense, one that was as fulfilling as their work in the refugee camps.

She couldn't reach for that dream, because even if she closed the book, the story wasn't over. This was her fight, like it or not. Shiva was her mother. And of everyone in the world, Cass might just be the only one who could defeat her. Which meant that choosing to walk away was letting Shiva do as she pleased, and Cass couldn't live with herself if she did that.

Better to risk and lose, even if it meant losing Steph – who would be furious even if Cass survived this – than to walk away and not even try to stop the evil that would spawn from this. No one dies, that was her motto in Gotham, and she'd already watched one man die today, helpless to intervene. No time, Shiva had moved too unexpectedly. But she could stop the rest of the deaths that would come with this power in Shiva's hands.

Maybe.

Cass took a deep breath, and leaped, landing on the catwalk three running steps behind her mother. Shiva didn't turn around. "I've been expecting you," she said, her voice level and calm.

And her body language was calm, too. Ready for the inevitable battle. As if she knew something Cass didn't.

Doubt blossomed like a weed in her heart, but Cass was set on her course. "Stop," she said, and they knew each other well enough that Shiva knew exactly what she meant.

"Never," Shiva replied, turning at last, and the set of her shoulders said louder than words, You cannot change me. I am as I am, as I was before you were born and will be until I die. I am death to all who oppose me, I have become the death I no longer fear. There will be no surrender, no holding back, no careful strike to bring you back. This time, it is to the death.

Cass settled into her fighting stance, knowing Shiva could read it better than speech. I am not the tool my father would have made of me. I am not the bodyguard Ra's al Ghul wanted. I am not an inferior copy of you. I am myself, Cassandra, Batgirl, and I draw the line here. No more death.

Shiva smiled, stalking toward her. "Do you even know why I came here?"

Shrugging, Cass said, "Dance with death."

"Well, yes," Shiva admitted. "But also to draw you here."

Cass froze. No, this couldn't be about her. She didn't want to believe that … but Shiva's body didn't lie. She was wholly focused on Cass now, dark eyes intent. Shiva spoke again, her voice soft. "I told you the last time, you were holding yourself back. You sacrificed so much of your ability just to speak. I wanted to face you again, when you were trained, when you were ready. When the contest would be fairly fought. And here we are."

They began to circle each other, Cass striving for that flow state she found in battle, but Shiva's voice called her out of it, planting little daggers of disquiet in her concentration. "You are the only one alive who is my equal. The only one who might be able to kill me. But you will not take a life, you cling to Batman's creed as if it will save you. Very well, we shall fight here, where death has no dominion." Shiva smiled, and lunged, faster and deadlier than any viper, with no warning in her body language.

Cass slipped out of her way by the barest of margins. This was a bad place for a fight, a narrow walkway over the fumes of corruption, but she couldn't flee. Not even knowing that Shiva had planned all of this. She set herself to fight; none of the circumstances mattered. All that mattered was ending this, stopping her mother from killing anyone else.

She struck back, her forearm meeting Shiva's with a jarring shock, and the smile on her face at the impact looked exactly like the one Cass saw in the mirror. Alike in so many ways, and yet the difference was fundamental. Her mind went quiet, and Cass let herself become one with the fight.

By the next morning, Dick Grayson was utterly done with his little brother's idiocy. Jay had royally screwed this up, and Dick went to hunt him down.

It wasn't the first time he'd stalked Jay. More than once when Jay returned to Gotham the first time, Dick had picked up his trail, trying to run him down and just make him stop long enough to find out what had happened to the boy he used to know. He hadn't had much luck, and when he did cross paths with Jay, they did more fighting than talking.

And then there was the utter disaster after Kala left at the end of summer. Dick had found Jay pathetically drunk and hungover at the same time, cuddling a uniform shirt on the concrete floor of his bunker. That had been over a kiss and no return call. This … this was probably worse. Kala's heart was shattered, and Dick fully intended to beat some sense into Jay. According to Babs' intel he had gone back to his building, and Dick went directly there as soon as the riots were under control.

Except, the bunker was empty. The apartment was empty, and Jay's paranoid series of traps was only half-set. Dick frowned, looking around – Kala's burgundy throw was still on Jay's bed. Detective instincts pinging, Dick checked the bathroom, and saw Kala's shampoo and conditioner still in the shower stall, her fancy vegan soap still on the edge of the tub. Her toothbrush still racked alongside Jay's, too.

The apartment looked different, and as Dick scrutinized it, he saw Kala's imprint everywhere. The place was clean, for one, and it smelled good. There was freaking Febreze sitting on a shelf. The fridge had more than just takeout and beer in it; there were steam-in-the-bag mixed veggies in the freezer. The dishes had been washed and put away, too. It was a bit like the Twilight Zone, honestly.

Dick set out to explore the building. With all those reminders of Kala staring him in the face, Jay wouldn't have stayed in the apartment. If he'd been up in there for more than a few minutes since the argument, her stuff would've been gone. So he'd probably left the building, though Dick would check all the empty, unused apartments just in case.

As expected, after an hour's patient search, he came up dry. Jay had a whole city to hide in, which made things a whole lot harder, but Dick was still confident he could find Jay.

And give him hell for being such a fool when he did.

He had to call for Babs' help. Jay hadn't taken anything with him that they could track, but she checked her cameras for the right time frame and saw him leaving. He knew where most of the cameras were, and stayed off them, but they had a direction to start with. And Jay wouldn't be able to stay hidden forever. Even if Dick couldn't track him down today – and he really, really wanted to – he'd show up somewhere eventually.

Basic detective work, then. Check known locations, and there was an important one on Jay's path of travel. Dick went to the building where Jay's pack of kids had been living, until Two-Face found them. It was burned down thanks to Joker, but as Dick stared at the blackened concrete, his instincts told him Jay had stood in this spot and looked at the same sight. He glanced at the ground, half expecting to see Jay's boot-prints in the gray slush.

No such luck, and Dick began to search a pattern around the general area, looking for any traces of Jay. To his surprise, he found the first clue quickly, a splintered door jamb indicating a recent break-in. Dick almost ignored it; Jay was usually far more careful than that, leaving few signs of his presence. But in the end, he decided to check it anyway. Even if it wasn't Jay, it might be someone who needed help. The cold always hit the homeless population hard, and Dick had saved a few lives in his time by getting hypothermic people to a shelter and making sure they got a warm meal inside them.

A dirty handprint on one interior door looked recent, and Dick walked up the hallway warily, smelling alcohol and old sour vomit. A lot like the smell of Jay's bunker, the last time Dick had had to drag him out of a hole, and he continued following it up. He found a door with another smudge on the knob, and tried it warily. Locked, but it was easy to pick, and there was no chain or deadbolt. For Jay, that was like anyone else leaving the door wide open. On top of leaving the apartment half-secured and all the other visible signs, it was terrifyingly careless compared to Jay's usual caution.

Dick stepped into the room, an abandoned office, and smelled body odor. And a faint metallic trace of blood. "Jay?" he called. He'd come here intending on a confrontation, but now he was about equal parts worried and angry. Jay wouldn't have done anything rash … would he?

No answer. Dick explored the unfurnished rooms leading off this one, his hands on his sticks, until he finally found Jay sprawled in the middle of the floor in a back room. He was breathing, at least. A large bottle of scotch sat beside him – not even good scotch, it was Old Smuggler. And it was nearly empty. Dick sighed, and plucked the bottle away first, going to dump it down a toilet as soon as he found one. The stuff smelled like paint thinner. He saw a second bottle of the same brand, and that one was empty. Now Dick started to be seriously concerned. That was a lot of booze all at once, and Jay had been slowing down on his drinking lately. His tolerance probably wasn't as high as it had once been.

Then he returned to Jay's side, looking down at him worriedly. Jay was still in uniform, and he smelled terrible. Like he'd been sick more than once, although Dick didn't see any spew on or near him. Maybe he'd had the presence of mind to make it to the bathroom to throw up.

Cursing him out was going to have to wait. Jay was too sick to comprehend it, right now. At least the sight of him confirmed what Dick had thought – he hadn't broken up with Kala because he didn't love her, or he got tired of her. He'd run her off and broken his own heart trying to keep her safe. "Idiot," Dick muttered, shaking his head.

He'd get answers for this, eventually. But first he needed to make sure Jay didn't get alcohol poisoning. Stepping out of the room so he wouldn't wake his brother, Dick made a call to Oracle. "I found him. But I'm gonna need some help."

"How bad is it?" she asked.

Dick looked back and sighed. "Not as bad as it could be." That was the best news any of them could expect to hear just now.

Bruce had just gotten into bed when his phone rang. He contemplated not answering it, but very few people had that number, and whoever did might be calling with the fate of the world in the balance. "Yes?" he answered gruffly.

Lois Lane's voice came through loud and clear and extremely nettled. "Your second son is just as much of an emotionally-constipated asshat as you are," she said.

Bruce grunted. "I told them both they weren't ready for this."

"Fuck that, and fuck you," Lois shot back. "Kala's had therapy, Jay still needs some."

"And she was not ready to be his therapist," Bruce replied.

"Yeah, that's right, you would think that. You slept with your shrink so she wouldn't go looking too deep into that belfry of yours," Lois retorted.

It really was taxing, having friends who knew him so well. "Did you call just to berate me?" he asked.

"No. I called to let you know Kala made it home safely despite everything. I assumed you'd care." She still sounded venomous.

"Of course I care. I also have the radar data to show she made it to Metropolis last night, and no indications that she left the city since," Bruce told her.

Lois scoffed at him. He knew how everyone else felt about his level of precaution and preparedness, and how they considered some of it to be borderline stalking. Bruce didn't mind. Knowing was caring.

"I also wanted you to know that neither Clark nor I intend to come over and balance the scales," Lois continued. "Tempting as it is to kick some sense into the boy, my husband made me promise not to shoot up Gotham. Besides, it'd upset Alfred."

"I appreciate your restraint," Bruce replied, and meant it. He didn't know precisely where Jay was at the moment, but Dick was looking for him with Barbara's help, and if Jay was as compromised as Bruce believed him to be, they'd find him soon. It would be better for Jay to deal with Dick than to face Bruce just now. He'd be able to have conversations with Dick, and not be as defensive as he would be with Bruce.

Silence ruled, and then Lois sighed. "What a mess. We all want the best for our kids, for a while there we thought we had it, and then this happens. God, Bruce, I don't know how you keep from losing your mind."

"The mission keeps me going," he told her truthfully. He'd suffered enough losses to break most men, and still managed to keep going. Some thought that meant he was callous, that he didn't care about anyone, not even his sons. Bruce allowed that opinion to continue because it kept them all safer. In truth, he grieved for Jay … but it wasn't his place to intervene. And the work didn't stop just because Jay had sabotaged his own love life.

Lois just scoffed again. "Why am I not surprised that's your answer? Go on, Bruce. I'll take care of mine, you take care of yours."

"Thank you for making sure I knew she was all right," Bruce replied, and hung up. He was more courteous to Lois than most; she had no tolerance for his usual gruff tactics, and a Kryptonian who would fly her over to finish a conversation if he did hang up on her prematurely.

On the nonstop flight from San Juan to Metropolis, Sebast leaned back in his seat and wished the earbuds he'd brought would drown out the baby crying somewhere in the back of the plane. Beside him, Mickey was sound asleep, and his parents were in the room just in front of them, Papi snoring, Mami watching the in-flight movie. It was in many ways a normal holiday.

Except, he'd turned on the television last night, unable to sleep with Metropolis on his mind. And seen rare footage of the Blur, hovering in midair with a Molotov cocktail in her hand. It still blew Sebast's mind to realize that was his girl, the one who'd shared her chemistry notes with him in school, the one who took the stage beside him and blended her voice with his, the one who snuggled up to him like he was her security blanket, actually flying and backing down an angry mob.

And who was beside her, taking off his helmet and reminding the crowd he was one of them? Mr. Jason Todd, of course. Sebast managed not to grind his teeth. He had to get over seeing the guy. Although, Red Hood wasn't often in the limelight. Having him show himself in broad daylight was definitely weird.

The newsreel showed a later, shakier clip of Kala sweeping in to huge street fight, and absolutely dominating the crap out of it. She put five men on the ground in as many seconds, it seemed, and flew off without acknowledging that she'd done anything unusual. The police shouting at the crowd to disperse were able to load up five thugs dressed in clown costumes, because the Blur had knocked them down and tied them up so fast they didn't even seem to understand what had happened to them.

This was Kala's life. This was what she'd been doing on New Year's Day, while Sebast groaned about his hangover. This was the kind of thing she faced while his biggest challenge was packing his suitcase.

He'd made some tough decisions, one of which was that he wasn't going back to their house. Kala needed those windows more than he did, and the band needed the space to practice. Let Kala live there, and he would visit. Sebast could stay with his family for now, maybe get an apartment later. Kala could buy out his share of the house. She had the rich stepmom, after all.

Jenna from the label had outlined a proposal to bring him back to the band, with all kinds of stipulations. They'd all be on the bus together, but separate accommodations in the hotels were a must. The official story was that Sebast had had a family emergency, and he wouldn't contradict that in any statement to the press or on social media. His own real accounts were locked down under his middle name, just like Kala's; their publicists handled the official on-brand accounts with regular input from the singers themselves.

He'd decided to toe the line, be a good boy, and more importantly, not screw up again. Jenna had insisted that all communication go through the label at first, but Sebast had promptly ignored that, sending a group message to Robb, Ned, and Morgan that just said, 'I fucked up. I'm sorry.' It had taken a while for the boys to respond, with Robb the first to say, 'You're an asshole, but you're our asshole.' The rest had chimed in with similar sentiments, and Sebast hoped it was enough to defrost the first meeting in a few weeks. Jenna was trying to manage that, too, and was talking about having a mediator present. She acted like she expected him and Kala to have a reality-TV level fight.

Well, after the thrown suitcase, he kinda couldn't blame her. Half of that had just been how tightly Kala was wound at the time, and knowing what Sebast knew now, he couldn't blame her.

The only one Sebast hadn't spoken to was Kala. Every time he picked up his phone, there was just too damn much to say, and he ended up not knowing how to start. It would be different, when they were face to face, when he could look into her eyes. He'd know what to say to her then. It'd start with an apology, of course, and knowing Kala she'd apologize to him too. Not that she really needed to; he understood why she'd done it, now.

All the anger and secrets and recriminations were behind them now. It was time to start rebuilding, to make sure they didn't lose the friendship that had gotten complicated and strained by the last year's events. Whether he was in love with her or not, Sebast had started out as Kala's best friend, and he intended to stay in that role.

The tour would be starting up again in a week, and Jenna wanted him to meet up with the band the day before their second show. Not the first one, she wanted the band to have a chance to shake off the holiday slump, and Sebast chafed at staying away longer than he strictly needed to.

He leaned his head back against the seat, tried to ignore the crying baby and Mikey's snoring, and let himself miss Kala. I'm coming home, mi Kala, he thought, even though he wasn't going to their house. Like it or not, Kala was home for him.