Steph hunched her shoulders as she heard the front door open, ducking her head and jamming her headphones over her ears. She skipped to the next song and tried to get back to her math homework, hoping she would escape notice.

"Stephanie," her father called from the doorway. He huffed, turning to his companion, and said, "Stay here a minute, Ed. STEPHANIE!"

Steph, whether by wilful ignorance or the soulful tones of Black Canary wailing in her ears, did not hear him.

"Fucking brat," Arthur spat, yanking the headphones off her ears and smacking her upside the head. "Get those damn things off your head."

Steph bit her tongue – quite literally, she bit her tongue – and refrained from telling him to fuck off.

"Steph, sweetheart, you remember your Uncle Eddie, right?" Arthur turned and gestured for the other man to come inside. Edward stepped into the entryway, closing the door behind him so gently Steph didn't hear it close. He had lank chestnut hair falling into his eyes, too long to be tidy, but he offered her an uncertain smile.

"Hello, Stephanie."

"Hi, Uncle Eddie," Steph mumbled. She did remember Uncle Eddie – Edward Nygma. He'd come to her eighth birthday party and gotten her a book of brainteasers. He and her dad were always scheming about something.

Steph noticed he had a duffle bag with him, and turned to look at her dad with a frown. It wasn't that Uncle Eddie would be unwelcome in their home, but Steph's mother hadn't been doing too well, lately. Steph wondered if her father had run this by Crystal or if he'd just made the decision himself.

She had a feeling she knew the answer.

"Arthur, honey, can you go down to the pharmacy and pick up my – oh!" Crystal stopped at the end of the hallway, looking between the three of them. "Ed, it's good to see you!"

"Likewise," Edward smiled at Crystal, wide. "How have you been?"

"I'm good," Crystal was digging around in her purse, producing a packet of cigarettes. She shook one free from the packet and held it out to Edward, but he shook his head. She placed it between her lips instead and flicked at the tip with a lighter.

"I'll have one," Arthur said. Crystal snorted, jabbing it in his direction, the lit end smoking and cherry red.

"You have your own. Can you go to the pharmacy?"

Steph hunched her shoulders, waiting for the incoming fight, but instead her dad just sighed and said, "Yeah, sure. You got any cash?"

As Crystal dug through her purse to produce some bills, Eddie set his duffel down by the door and wandered over beside Stephanie. When he saw what she was working on, he wrinkled his nose and said, "I can't say mathematics is my strong suit."

"I like it fine," Steph replied. "I gotta get this done, though."

Eddie took the dismissal and took a seat on the couch while Arthur and Crystal had a brief squabble over the money. After a few minutes, Arthur shoved a small wad of bills in his pocket and said, "I'm heading down the street. Ed, you stay here with the girls. Kick your feet up, relax. Crystal should be starting dinner soon."

Crystal rolled her eyes as Arthur closed the door behind him, throwing a tea towel just as the door pulled shut. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Eddie grabbed the tea towel and brought it into the kitchen. "Don't fret. I'll help with dinner."

"No, no, Ed, you're a guest in our home," Crystal waved him away. "Go on. It's fine."

"I insist," Eddie said firmly.

Crystal wavered for a moment, and then said, "Alright. I'll get everything out, you can chop the carrots. Steph, honey, set the table for me, please?"

Steph rolled her eyes and set her pencil down, because apparently getting her math homework done was not something that was possible in this household. She darted her way in between her mother and Uncle Eddie in the kitchen, pulling plates out of the cupboard and taking them over to the kitchen table. Their home was cramped, the kitchen, dining and living room sort of all being the one thing, but it was theirs. She started laying plates out on the table, picking up her stack of homework and shuffling the papers back into order. She'd do it in her room after dinner.

Steph collected the cutlery from the dish rack and placed it on the table, turning back to watch as Uncle Eddie and her mom joked back and forth in the kitchen. She walked over to the couch and flopped down on it, resting her arm against the armrest and her head against her hand. She'd just picked up the remote when she heard Crystal say, "So you're out of Arkham for good?"

Her ears perked up at that.

"I hope so," Uncle Eddie was saying. Steph glanced sideways, trying to get a gauge for his expression. He looked almost rueful. "It's not a nice place, Crys."

"We're happy to have you here," Crystal squeezed Eddie's arm before returning to preparing the meat. "You can stay as long as you need to get back on your feet, Ed, don't worry about that."

"I don't want to impose," Uncle Eddie replied. "I'll be out of your hair in a few days, I hope. The social worker is meant to be coming through with some housing, but-"

Both Crystal and Eddie pulled a face, each knowing all too well what Gotham social workers were like.

Steph returned her attention to the television, where the six o'clock news was starting. She leaned in to watch a segment on Batman taking down a smuggling ring, her attention split between the television and her mother and Uncle Eddie's hushed conversation in the kitchen about his time in Arkham Asylum. Steph knew, of course, that Uncle Eddie had been remanded into the Asylum's custody after his trial. She hadn't paid close attention to it, but she'd watched along with everyone else as he'd been dragged from the courthouse in shackles, spouting riddles instead of answers to the press. Her mother had tutted and changed the channel after that.

He seemed to be better now, at least.

The front door opened, and her father stepped inside, a little white and blue paper bag in his hands. Steph could see the orange bottles through the thin white paper, and she pressed her lips together, turning her attention back to the news. It wasn't something they talked about, but her mom had been taking the pills more and more lately. She told the doctor her pain was getting worse, but Steph didn't actually see her in pain, most of the time – not the kind that pills could help, anyway.

"Good, you're back," Crystal was wiping her hands on a tea towel. "Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Go wash up."

"Yes ma'am," Arthur replied. He tossed the bag in his hands to Crystal, and she caught it, clutching it to her chest for a moment. As Arthur disappeared down the hall to the bathroom, she opened it, pulling free two orange bottles with white caps, reading the labels to ensure they were the right thing. Satisfied, she put them in the cupboard above the sink, where they kept the cough syrup and off-brand Tylenol. She closed the cupboard up and fussed around the frypan, where Uncle Eddie was doing an admirable job of not burning the chicken.

Arthur returned a few minutes later, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, tossing his lighter back and forth. Steph wrinkled her nose, but knew better than to say anything. Her parents smoking inside was sort of the least of her concerns.

Uncle Eddie was waved out the kitchen by Crystal with a plate full of food. He hesitated at the table, before taking the seat facing away from the windows, to the left of the head of the table. Steph took this as her signal to get up and get her plate, joining him at the table moments later, taking the seat at the end of the table. Her mother and father joined them moments later, her dad stubbing his cigarette out on the corner of his plate and tucking what remained unsmoked back into the packet.

Crystal opened a bag of bread rolls, passing them around the table, adding an extra one onto Eddie's plate. He gave her a weak, but grateful, smile in return. Arthur, with little pretence, dug into his food immediately.

Steph pushed her mushy carrots and peas around her plate, picking at them uncertainly. At least there was mashed potato. That was her favourite.

"Mom? Do we have any gravy?" She looked up from her plate.

"Sorry, honey," Crystal said with a furrowed brow. "I couldn't get any at the store today."

"That's okay, Mom," Steph said softly, returning to her food. Mashed potatoes were good even without gravy. She'd just eat them with a little salt and butter.

There was little in the way of chitchat as they each started eating, but after a few moments of silence, Arthur said, "So, Ed. Now you're out of the nuthouse, are you looking for work?"

Crystal gave a reproachful, "Arthur!" as Eddie looked up and said, with some hesitance, "What kind of work, Art?"

"Shut up," Arthur pointed his fork at Crystal. Steph felt a burst of hatred in her chest. He turned his gaze back to Uncle Eddie. "I've got a job coming up. Big money. Big payday if we play our cards right."

"Arthur," Crystal said through gritted teeth, casting a pointed look in Stephanie's direction. Steph pretended not to be listening, but in reality she was absorbing every word. She wanted to know what her father was up to. She wanted to know what this job was.

"She's old enough, Crys," Arthur said. "She's not too bright, but maybe one day she'll follow in our footsteps, get into the business herself."

Crystal pursed her lips. That was her worst fear, truth be told, but there was little she could say to dissuade her husband's proclamations.

"I think Stephanie is plenty bright," Uncle Eddie said mildly, shovelling a forkful of chicken into his mouth. "But Crystal is right, Arthur. It's no business for a child."

Arthur snorted. "Whatever. Are you in?"

Uncle Eddie hesitated, and then looked down at his plate. "I'm trying to leave that life behind me, Arthur. I don't want to go back to Arkham."

"So we leave the riddles out of it," Arthur said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just you and me, two of the best minds in the business working out the logistics. What do you say?"

Uncle Eddie bit the inside of his cheek a moment, thinking hard, before he said, "Can I let you know? Give me a day or two to think about it."

"Don't take too long," Arthur warned. "We're moving on the information tomorrow night."

"Who is this 'we'?" Crystal asked with a frown.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about," Arthur snapped. Steph's nostrils flared.

"Mom, I'm done," she said. "Can I go finish my homework in my room?"

"Of course baby," Crystal replied, smoothing down the back of Stephanie's hair. As Steph took her plate to the kitchen, Crystal followed her. Steph watched as her mother opened the cupboard above the sink, pulled out a little orange bottle, unscrewed the cap, and shook free two pills. She swallowed them dry, replacing the bottle back on the shelf and closing the cupboard doors. Steph paused by the refrigerator, wondering if she should say something – if there was anything at all she could say – but instead she settled for pulling her mom into a brief hug before retreating to her room.

In her room, she did not do her math homework.

She hunched over her ancient sewing machine, lining up yards of purple fabric and stitching them together, piece by piece. The machine was an old Singer, her mom's from the eighties, and what it lacked in snazzy features it more than made up for in functionality. She dug through her desk drawer for the elastic she'd bought and threw it onto the fabric, looking for her pins. Hooked over her curtain rod was the black belt she'd picked up from the Army surplus, with an array of pockets and thick buckles.

She was making a costume.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she jumped, spinning around. The machine skittered and sputtered on the fabric, and she swore, grabbing at the fabric and stopping it before it tore.

"What are you making there, Steph?" Uncle Eddie asked from the doorway.

Steph glowered at him. "Halloween costume."

Eddie tilted his head to the side, considering her. After a moment of tense silence, he said, "It's April."

It was not a Halloween costume.

"I'm getting started early," Steph replied. She clutched some of the fabric in her hands, rubbing the soft material with her thumb. It was soft, but dense. She'd gone at it with a knife already, and it had stretched, but it hadn't torn. She hoped that meant it would offer her some protection.

Eddie made a face. She was pretty good at reading people, but his expression was one she couldn't place. Concern, maybe, and perhaps a little…fear? It was hard to tell.

"Get your math homework done, kid," he said. "Your Halloween costume isn't more important than your education."

Steph's shoulders dropped as she sighed. "Okay, Uncle Eddie."

He stayed standing in her doorway, and she fidgeted after a few moments, looking between the half-finished costume and the seemingly reformed criminal in her doorway. Eventually, she said, "You won't tell my dad, right?"

Eddie blinked. "No, Stephanie," he said, shaking his head. "I won't be telling your dad."

He turned to leave, and Steph turned back, looking down at the mess of purple fabric on her desk. She sighed, listening as footsteps retreated down the hall, and finished the section she was working on. She gathered everything and stuffed it into a plastic bag, tucking it under her desk, out of sight. Beside the bag was the black balaclava she had found, also at the Army surplus; she'd made reflective lenses for the eyes that appeared white on the outside but were clear to see through. It had been difficult, but they looked awesome.

She finished her math homework in silence, listening closely for any sounds. She heard her father make his way down the hall, his heavy gait equally familiar and disconcerting. There came the sound of her parents' bedroom door closing, and she paused, setting down her pencil. She got to her feet and made her way to her doorway, peering down the hall at the closed door. She cast a glance back to the bag containing her costume, and pursed her lips, slipping out of her room and down the hall. She stopped in the entryway before the kitchen, brow furrowed.

Uncle Eddie was at the sink, unscrewing the cap off an orange bottle. He tipped it and dropped a single green pill in his hand, replacing the cap and slipping the bottle of pills back into his pocket. Steph caught a glance at the label; it said NYGMA, EDWARD, and LURASIDONE, 80MG, in large black letters. She sidled up beside him as he took a glass from the dish rack and got some water from the tap, throwing back the pill with a swallow of water.

"What are those for?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Uncle Eddie jumped, and turned to face her, a frown crossing his face.

"They keep me calm," he said. "Keep my mind from getting too…too much."

"Oh," Steph said. She considered this for a moment.

"Crystal," Uncle Eddie said quietly, and then corrected himself, "Your mom. Is she taking those pills all the time?"

Steph clenched her jaw, and said, "Sometimes, but only when she's hurting."

"There are doctors," he said calmly, glancing to where Crystal was half-passed out on the couch, zoned out with the television blaring in the background. "They can help. I can help you contact them."

"She doesn't need help," Steph stuck out her chin, defiant. "She's got me."

Uncle Eddie gave her a tired smile. "That she does."

Steph's gaze dropped, and she clenched her fists, flexed her fingers, considered what to say next. Eventually, she said, "Are you going to help my dad?"

Eddie sighed. "No, Stephanie. I don't think so."

"Good," Steph said. "Because I'm going to stop him."

Uncle Eddie gave her a steady look, and shook his head, reaching out to clasp a gentle hand to her shoulder. Stephanie still flinched away from the touch, so used to such things being followed by pain, and Eddie's gaze softened.

"I want you to be careful," he said. "You're smart. You'll figure out his clues before anyone else does. But you might get hurt."

Steph squared her shoulders. "I can handle him."

"What are you two talking about?" Came a voice from the hall, and Steph jumped, turning to face her father. Eddie turned his head, a frown crossing his face.

"Nothing, Arthur," he said. "Stephanie and I were just discussing her homework."

Arthur snorted, slouching against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He looked at Stephanie, his eyes narrowing, and he jerked his head backwards.

"You should be in bed," he said.

"I was just getting a glass of water," Steph said. She grabbed a cup from the dish rack and turned on the tap, turning her back on her father and Uncle Eddie. The skin at the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably.

"So, Ed," Arthur said. Steph maintained her focus on the running tap. "Are you in for tomorrow? I could use your help on the clues."

Eddie blanched, his shoulders going stiff. "No, Arthur. I can't."

"Why not?" Arthur demanded, his voice sharp. "You gone soft?"

"No," Eddie swallowed. "I appreciate the offer, but it's not the work I'm looking for right now."

"Ah," Arthur said. "I get it. You think you're too good for it. You're too clever, right? Make your whole fucking career off riddles, but you're too good to do a couple for a heist."

"Arthur," Uncle Eddie said. Steph turned around to see the pained expression on Eddie's face.

"Get out," Arthur said, pointing to the door. "Get out, right now."

"Arthur," Crystal got up from the couch, stumbling to her feet. She made her way over to her husband, unsteady and uncertain, and gave him a gentle shove back towards their room. "Stop it."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something else, but Crystal shoved him again. They stared at each other a moment, and Arthur's gaze snapped onto Stephanie, who shrunk under the weight of his gaze. Arthur threw his hands in the air and stormed off back towards their room, slamming the door behind him. Crystal sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Don't listen to him, Ed," she said. "You're always welcome here. Take the couch for the night. I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," Uncle Eddie said roughly. He glanced sidelong to Steph, and Crystal turned to look at her, swaying on her feet.

"Steph, sweetheart, head to bed." Crystal shook her head. "Or at least stay out of your dad's way."

Steph nodded. She took a couple of uncertain steps towards the hall, and then glanced backwards.

"Goodnight, Uncle Eddie."

"Goodnight, Stephanie." He watched as Crystal retreated back to her room with Arthur, and then said quietly, "Good luck with your costume."

Steph squared her shoulders and made her way to her room, closing the door softly behind her. She wasn't supposed to, but her parents would be busy fighting – she could hear the raised voices now, the occasional thump that suggested her father was putting holes in the drywall. She pulled out the purple fabric and the sewing machine and got to work, shaping a cloak, a hood, a bodysuit. She worked until her fingers bled, until her eyelids were heavy and her mind was clouded, but sometime near dawn, it was complete.

The sun was peeking over the horizon as she peered out her bedroom window. She drew back the curtains and let the light bask on her face, inhaling slowly, looking down at the costume on her desk. It was ready. She was ready.

She opened her door to make her way down to the kitchen, and stopped, staring at her bedroom door. Pinned to it was a note.

STEPHANIE,

I'M MEASURED IN TEMPERATURE AND TIME, BUT HAVE NEITHER. WHAT AM I?

At the bottom of the page was scrawled a string of numbers in shaky, almost uncertain, handwriting.

Steph crumpled the note in her hand and tossed it towards her trash can. It bounced off the rim and landed in the mess under her desk. She sighed and shouldered her backpack, making her way down to the bus stop, deep in thought about the note, its contents, and her father.

The thoughts plagued her all through the school day, and when she'd returned home, she found that not only was Uncle Eddie not there, but her dad wasn't there either, and her mom was passed out on the couch with heavy lidded eyes and a hazy gaze. Steph pressed a kiss to her forehead, dumped her backpack by the door, and headed to her room, where her costume awaited her.

She pulled on the purple pants and top, slung the belt around her hips and pulled it tight. She shifted from foot to foot, sturdy boots on her feet, and pulled on her mask. Her cape swished as she affixed it to her neck, and then pulled the hood over her face, obscuring her features even further.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and squared her shoulders.

"I'm the Spoiler," she said aloud. It rang true to her ear.

She grabbed the crumpled note from the floor and smoothed it out, reading it one more time.

She was the Spoiler.

She knew where her father was going to be.

She was going to stop him.