Hunter's Night

By Christy

A/N: Yes, I know this update is very late. I'm sorry. Finishing up my last semester of college, applying for grad school, and trying to get out my portfolio. Also editing my novel. Again. But I hope you enjoy.

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Dinah left earlier than I did. Dick was passed out on the couch, deeply asleep, and Cass was flipping through a picture book, her dark eyes scanning each page with quiet fascination. I watched them for a long time, rinsing out a mug in the sink, distracted. Shiva was one of the assassins on the list. Would she try to take us down? Even if her daughter were now ours? But why would she? Shiva, if anything, loved a challenge. It would undoubtedly be the greatest challenge in her career to bring down the Batman and the Amazon. And then she could get her daughter back...

I shook my head. She'd entrusted her daughter to Bruce and me. It made no sense that she would try to kill us only a short time after. I'd have to trust her. But trusting Shiva had never been easy.

Dick mumbled something in his sleep, his head turning in small but jerky movements, and his fingers twitching.

"Kid's not sleeping well," Helena intoned quietly, coming up beside me with a towel. She watched him with dark, glittering, all-too-perceptive eyes. "He's been off all day. What happened?"

I handed her the mug and leaned on the counter. "It's my fault," I admitted softly. "He and Bruce had an... argument last night. This morning, he tried to explain, and I didn't listen. I was... not exactly receptive."

"You've been off, too. More so over the past few weeks," observed Helena with a frown.

"I know." I ran a hand through my hair. "And I took it out on Dick. Dick, who lost his entire family only a few months ago." I shook my head, self-hatred welling up in my chest. "I can't believe I was so short with him."

"Hey." Helena nudged me. "Kid loves you. Apologize and listen to him. Or is it something that's more between him and Bruce?"

"I think so, in a way," I conceded. "He's... he hasn't accepted Bruce as a father figure yet. The two are having trouble bonding, I think. Trouble listening to each other. They're both very stubborn, and that's not necessarily a good thing. Dick thought he saw Bruce in a ... compromising situation with a cat-burglar last night."

"Oh?" Helena tensed, raised an eyebrow. "You weren't there?"

I shook my head. "No. But obviously I trust Bruce, so I know nothing happened. Or if it did, it wasn't by his consent or doing."

"Very trusting," Helena said shortly.

I gave her a look. "I know him better than anyone, El. I know nothing happened."

"If you say so. Obviously it got the kid upset," Helena said.

"I know. Dick's very protective of me. He was just trying to help." I studied Dick carefully. "I'll talk with him tomorrow. Bruce will, too. But it's harder for him. He's not exactly the warmest or easiest person to get along with," I said. "He doesn't exactly let people in easily."

Helena scoffed. "No, really?"

"After his parents died..." I trailed off. "I know it's been hard for him to adjust like this. He's so afraid of losing people in his life, and obviously no one can blame him. If anything, that's my greatest fear, too. But... it's harder for him. Having to be a father so suddenly. And so young. We're both young."

"Hey." Helena touched my shoulder. "You're a good mom. Considering your past, where you came from - your own family drama... both you and Bruce are doing a pretty damn good job. Of course it's going to be hard, and what family doesn't have issues? But you have to give it time." Helena grinned, shaking her head, and nudged me. "Look at me, the family guru. As if I know anything about raising kids."

I smiled at her. "You'd be a good mom, El. You make a great teacher. The kids love you."

"Yes, well... I'm not ready to settle down for a good long time," Helena drawled. "I like it how it is. I get to watch your kids for a while, enjoy them, and you get to take them home while I go out. Although, guess it hasn't really stopped you, either," she added with a grin. "Miss Wonder Woman."

I rolled my eyes. "Go ahead, make fun."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare make fun of an Amazon." Helena's phone buzzed; she checked it and frowned. "Oh, hey. Time flies when you're having fun - but I almost forgot to tell you - Q's coming over in a little bit."

"Oh?" I ignored her punch to the arm. "Coming over, is he? Isn't that cozy."

"Shut up. It's not like that. Well... maybe." Helena flashed me a devilish grin, which quickly faded. "Seriously, though. He's bringing over some case photos. Some psycho's been... skinning people." Her voice lowered. "Their faces, anyway. I told you about the first body, right?"

"You did," I said, alarmed. "I didn't know about another."

"Just turned up," Helena said, her voice still hushed. "Looks like a serial killer. You and Bruce have been so busy with those assassins -"

"No, I know. Let me know what you turn up, and I'll tell Bruce. Have Sage send us whatever files he has on the case, and we'll look into it."

Helena nodded. "Will do." She checked her phone. "He'll be here at eleven. Unless you want to bump into him and say hi, you might want to head out."

"No, we'll be out of your hair," I promised. "Let me wake up the red bird." I exited the kitchen and padded into the living room. Cass looked up and smiled, pointing to a picture of a small robin in her book, then pointed to Dick. I grinned. "Guess we have to wake the Robin up, huh?"

Cass nodded, touched Dick's shoulder, and then pressed a quick, smacking kiss to his cheek.

"Eugh," grumbled Dick, wiping his cheek, now half awake. "Gross."

Cass frowned, sitting back.

"Boys, honey," I reminded her, and touched Dick's head, brushing some stray black hair away from his eyes. "Time to head out, honey. It's getting late."

"Or early," Dick said with a yawn, stretching. He sat up, hair askew and eyes dazed. "I finished my homework, though." His eyes brightened as he rose to his feet, but he quickly scowled. "I can't go out tonight, can I?"

I sighed. "About that. You and I are going to have a talk. And so are you and your father."

Dick glared up at me; but I knew it was not directed at me. "Nothing to talk about," he muttered.

"There is," I argued gently. "Come on, we'll talk about it in the car. Time to say ciao to Auntie El."

Helena waved and handed Dick a plate of chocolate chip cookies, grinning at his enthusiastic reaction. "Homemade. Have some for the road. I'll see you tomorrow in class, buddy. Take it easy." She fist-bumped him and hugged Cass tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She saluted me loosely, arching a dark brow, and shut the door quietly behind us.

Helena Bertinelli

It was safe to say she was a little nervous. She berated herself, knowing that she shouldn't be. It wasn't a date. It wasn't. They were looking over gruesome crime photos, for the love of St. Peter.

It wasn't a date. He knew that, and she knew he knew that. Never mind that they were meeting at her apartment. That it was late at night. That he was bringing food. That she was bringing out her best bottle of wine. Helena's nose crinkled as she stared at the bottle regretfully. Hmph. Might as well save it for the family. Aunt A did enjoy a nice glass of wine. She put it back, took out her second best bottle of wine.

Someone knocked at the door softly.

Crap. She hadn't even had time to make sure she looked okay. She glanced down at her PJS, her thick, fuzzy socks, and realized she still had her glasses on. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she wasn't wearing makeup. Hardly the femme fatale that was Huntress. Oh, well. She shrugged, called "Coming!" and shuffled over to the door. But when she peered through the peephole, she saw no one. Frowning, she stepped back. She was sure she'd heard a -

"I couldn't come through the door," came Vic's voice from behind her.

Helena swore, whirling around, ready to attack. "Damn it, Vic!" She relaxed, but only slightly. "What the hell?" She stormed up to him, snatched the paper bag out of his hands, and stormed over to the table. "Sneaking into my apartment, scaring the living daylights outta me..." She pulled out boxes of Chinese food. "Huh. Didn't figure you for a Chinese food guy."

He shifted awkwardly, took off his fedora, and had the grace to look slightly abashed. "I've swept their place for food health standards. This particular restaurant uses all organic food. Adequate sanitary practices. They have no mafia affiliations at least five generations back -"

"Oh, shut up and eat," Helena groaned, practically inhaling the white rice out of its box. "Pull up a chair." She sank down, sighing happily into the warm food. "Delish. I might even be able to forgive for breaking into my apartment." She opened her eyes, squinted at him. "How'd you get in? Broken window?"

He nodded slowly, hesitantly pulled out a box of fried rice. "You should get that fixed."

"Gee, thanks, Detective," Helena retorted dryly. "I need some wine with this. You want?"

Sage swallowed, those keen eyes studying her. "I shouldn't. Technically I'm on the job."

"Wine it is, then," she said, and took out two glasses, pouring each of them a nice amount. She clinked his glass with hers and sat back down. "This is my second best wine, so enjoy."

Sage sniffed the wine, his eyes narrowed. "Second-best?" he said with a strange note to his voice. He took a sip.

Helena grinned easily. "Yep."

Sage glared at her, cleared his throat. "I see. Save your second best for someone else?"

Helena raised an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of jealousy I detect, Mr. Sage?"

He didn't respond. "We're here to talk about case files. Maybe we should've looked at those before eating."

Helena shook her head. "Never do hard work on an empty stomach. I'm a big girl, Vic. I can handle a few gruesome photos, trust me."

The way Sage was looking at her never failed to unnerve her. "I know," was all he said, before taking another sip of wine.

They ate in relative, comfortable silence and finished off half the bottle of wine. As Helena started to clear up the dishes, Sage got to his feet, held up a hand.

"I'll do it. Here." He handed her a file. "Take a look. I'll clean up."

Helena took the file, startled. "Vic, you don't have to -"

But he was already bringing the plates and silverware into the small kitchenette. He cleaned up like he did everything else: quietly, efficiently, carefully. Helena had to watch him out of the corner of her eye, still astonished that a man had actually volunteered to do the cleaning up for her. She didn't know the last time a man had volunteered to help clean anything. The last guy she'd been with had been very traditional, and had expected her to do all the work. That had lasted a split second and ended with him being punched to the floor, crying for his mother.

"What do you think?" Vic's gruff voice shook her out of her unpleasant memories.

Helena blinked, quickly opened the file. "Um. Bad."

"Very eloquent," he said dryly.

Helena sighed, shot him a look, and spread the photos out on the table, her eyes scanning carefully over each one. "Looks like the same MO as the first guy we found. Just his face, though. Wonder why it's just the face. Mark of the killer?"

"I think it may go deeper," said Vic darkly, resting both hands on the table. "I think the killer is using the victim's skins for something. Experimenting with them. The marks are too precise to be just about killing. This isn't some random killer, either. Both of these men are around the same age - late twenties, early thirties. Roughly the same build. Similar bone structure."

"He's targeting a certain body type," Helena said.

"It would look that way."

"But for what?" Helena demanded. "Skin graft? Maybe our perp is a burn victim, trying to reconstruct his face."

"That was my first thought. But with this precision... It would have to be someone who knows the human body incredibly well. He knew where exactly to cut. Either our perp did it himself, or he had someone else do it for him. Either way, there was no other evidence left at the crime scene."

Helena shook her head. "But there must be a way he's finding these guys. Some way he's targeting them, and when he knows where to strike without being caught. He's incredibly careful, whoever he is. He knows what he's doing."

"Planned, obviously," said Vic.

Helena sighed. "Any idea who would want to do this? This kind of determination is... very disturbing."

"Cold, calculated murder," said Vic. "I'll start by combing the hospital records for burn victims about this age and build."

"All right," she agreed with a nod. "And I'll let Bruce and Di in on the know. I know they have their hands full, but they have more intel available than we do."

Vic grunted, not entirely in agreement. "I can do my own research." He rose to his full height.

Helena slid the photos back into the file and shot him a small grin. "OK, Q."

Vic's eyes narrowed. "Wayne may have billions of dollars at his disposal, but that doesn't mean - "

Helena barked out a laugh and rose to her feet, stretching. "Oh, relax, Vic. You're both good detectives. Get over it. No need to be jealous," she teased. "Plenty of horrendous crimes in Gotham to go around. At least that's one thing in Gotham you can always count on," she muttered.

"Yes, well." Vic took the file and stood there for a moment somewhat awkwardly. "It's late. I should go."

Helena hesitated. "Yeah. Thanks for coming. And the food. But you broke into my house, so let's call it even."

He gave her an even look. "You invited me."

"Through the front door, you dolt." Another pause, and she picked at a stray thread on her cuff. "I know it's late... but I made a cheesecake for the girls... there's some left, if you want. And I make a mean cup of coffee, if I do say so myself."

Vic's eyes glittered with an indecipherable emotion, and his hands tightened on his hat. Immediately Helena felt stupid. Of course he wouldn't want to stay. And what the hell did she even mean, anyway? Stay for coffee. That could mean so many different things, depending on the interpreter.

"Just one cup," he said finally.

Helena hid a smirk.

Bruce Wayne

"Remind me why we have to do this again?"

Bruce shook his head at his fiancee's displeased tone, pushed on the gas a little harder as he neared Wayne Manor. "Because you have to play the terrorized fiancee, and I have to play the pretending-to-care, adoring yet carefree playboy billionaire who may or may not be cheating on her with one of the fashion models from this season."

Diana laughed. He couldn't help but suppress a small shiver; her laughter was open, honest, and richly warm. Just one of the many things he loved about her, even if he rarely admitted it. He loosened his tie, ran a hand over his hair, and tried to look a little more... lazy.

"That sounds insanely complicated," Diana said, amused. "Story of our lives, right?"

"Afraid so, Princess."

Diana sighed. "When's Dr. Elliot supposed to be here?"

"About twenty minutes. It'll give us a little time to... prepare, so to speak."

A pause. "Right." Then, "Bruce... it's only a matter of time - "

"I know." His voice turned grim as he pulled into the garage. "Sooner or later more assassins will show up. Now that Deadshot's out of the picture, they'll be even more eager to get at us. Deathstroke is our number one target right now. If anyone knows more about this Hush person, he should."

"The man's a mercenary, Bruce," Diana argued. "A failed, well - somewhat failed military experiment. What would he know about Hush? If even Maroni doesn't know anything -"

"We'll get to the bottom of it," he promised, getting out of the car and shutting the door. "Be right in."

When he entered the kitchen, the main hub of the Wayne family, he found Diana pulling on her wig and frowning at herself in one of the cabinet mirrors. Cass, Barbara, and Dick were doing homework at the breakfast table; Dick shot him a sullen glare before returning to his work. Bruce frowned. He'd have to have another talk with him. He had been harsh on the boy, he admitted. But Dick had to learn that disobedience had no place in the field, and if he had to endure sullen glances and grumbles from Dick, then so be it. But Bruce had a feeling Diana wanted them to resolve things a bit sooner.

"Here." Bruce set his briefcase on the island, turned Diana to face him, and adjusted her wig for her. Diana smiled up at him.

"Hey, you," she said softly. She brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes and leaned up to kiss him slowly. A disgusted scoff from the breakfast nook made Diana grin against his mouth, and she pulled away, smelling like a mix of vanilla and, as always, paradise. It sucked him in, forcing him to try and concentrate on the task at hand.

"All right, enough commentary from the peanut gallery," Diana said, amused.

"This doctor said he's going to try to help me?" Barbara piped up after a minute.

Bruce nodded, taking a glass out of the cabinet. "Tommy's an old friend. Rival, too, back when we were younger. But he's a good man, and a good doc, from what I've heard. He said he'll do what he can to help, if possible." He made his way over to the table and glanced over Dick's shoulder. "Good job," he said, ignoring another glare directed at him from his adopted son.

"It'd be better if you let me back in the field," Dick shot back.

Bruce fixed Dick with his most fierce stare and did not respond. Cass, to break the awkward moment, shoved her own homework book forward and pointed at it, urging Bruce to check her work, too. His face softening, Bruce peered at her math problems and nodded. "Looking good, Cass. Except for this one... this one doesn't look right, does it?" He pointed to a more difficult addition problem.

Cass frowned, shook her head after a second. She erased it and started over.

"So when Dr. Elliot comes to examine me," Diana said as Bruce returned to the island, "He's not going to find anything wrong with me. No bruises, scratches... nothing. Think he'll be suspicious? There was a lot of shattered glass that night," she said flatly.

"We'll just say I covered you well," Bruce said firmly. "No reason why you shouldn't be in perfectly good health, other than emotionally."

"Right, because being shot at is so rare for me," Diana replied, her tone wry.

"Clearly. It shouldn't take long. He's just doing it more out of courtesy for the both of us," Bruce told her. "If this works out, he could be a strong ally. We already have Leslie - it wouldn't hurt to have another doctor on our side."

Diana frowned. "You're not considering telling him about us."

"No. But as a general doctor, for Jim, or Barbara, or even for your mom. But I haven't seen Tommy really in years. It's a little early to take him into any kind of confidence." Bruce rubbed his stubbled jaw in concentration. "In the meantime, we have bigger issues that need dealing with." He met her grave eyes. "Slade Wilson seemed to know that Cheetah woman. If they are in league, it should be easier to track them down."

"I'll do some more research," Diana added with a nod. "Animal DNA experimentation... gene splicing... I'm pretty sure she wasn't born that way."

"You said she was goddess-influenced," Bruce said, his voice lowering. "Is there any way you could do some Olympian research?"

"I'll try." Her face grew troubled. "I'll be honest, Bruce," she murmured, "I haven't heard from any of the Olympians in a long time. Not even my father."

Bruce scowled. "It's not like him to be completely out of the picture. Hera and Persephone did show up when things got bad."

"I know. Which is what worries me." Diana bit her lip. "Listen, there's something..." She glanced over at the children, nodded to him, and led him out of the kitchen. "I know I've been... on edge lately," she admitted, her voice oddly quiet. "There was something that... that I didn't know. That I wasn't sure of, and I wasn't sure how to tell you." She hesitated, sucked in a breath. "Athena's been attacking me with these nightmares... She made me think that... that Ares... raped me."

Bruce felt his fingernails dig into his palms; he saw red. He tensed, scanning her quickly. "Diana -"

"He didn't," she quickly blurted out. "They were just nightmares. She was trying to trick me, drive me crazy. But Bruce... If she could make me doubt myself... doubt what I've experienced..."

She didn't get a chance to finish, nor Bruce a chance to recover, because the doorbell rang.

"Dr. Elliot to see you, Master Bruce," Alfred announced.

Bruce fought the urge to swear under his breath. Tommy Elliot's timing was far from ideal.

He and Diana needed to have at least a minute alone, in private. Away from all eyes. But it would have to wait.

"Tommy," he called out, forcing a lazy grin on his face, pressing a hand against the small of Diana's back. "Glad you could make it." He forced himself not to clench his hands into fists as he felt Diana's form trembling from her revelation. He hadn't seen her this disturbed since Ares's attack.

But even then, he hadn't seen the sheer anxiety back then that he saw haunting her eyes right now.

Thoughts?

Poor Bruce and Diana! Actually, poor Wayne family. They just can't catch a break. They will at some point, I promise. But things have to get worse before they get better.

- Christy