He paced around her, his movements cool and controlled. His eyes were dark and emotionless, lacking their usual empathy. "We should talk," he said, his tone light and casual.

"Sure," she stammered, suddenly quite sure that she wanted to do anything but talk to him right now. Involuntarily she stepped back and away from him. When she caught herself she cursed under her breath. She didn't back away from any man.

Not even Jesse Reese.

He took a step towards her and moved in to her personal space. Usually this wasn't a problem but she was hit with the sudden need to have him very far away from her. She put a hand up to stop his approach and it smacked against his thickly muscled chest.

He bent his head down and kissed her, his lips crushing against hers. She continued the passionate embrace for several seconds, ignoring the loud bells going off in her head,

Finally he broke away from her. He chuckled. "Yeah, that's not worth it anymore either."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Look," he said casually. "You're a great girl..." he stopped halfway and laughed. "Who am I kidding? You're a fucking loon bag."

She cocked her head to the side. "Okay, I'm a little bit lost here." She took a step towards him and clutched his hand. "Are you okay? You're acting weird."

"You're telling me what weird is?" Reese snorted. "You're the epitome of it."

"Right, okay," Helena muttered. "Still being a jackass I see." She released his hand and stepped back, anger creasing her face. "You want to maybe let me in on what the hell is going on here? Because I'm lost."

"That's hardly new," he stated, his tone devoid of humor. "You're lost about a lot of things. We're one of them."

"Okay Reese, you're maybe ten seconds from me kicking your ass into that wall over there. What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm dumping you," he said simply. He sighed. "I'm moving on."

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, her face flushing hotly. She'd never been dumped before. Hell, she'd never been in the position to be dumped before. She'd had a lot of casual flings but actual relationships and well...well there was Reese.

"Moving on? Uh, since when?"

"Since last night," he said easily. He glanced down at his hands and examined his cuticles. Helena noticed that one of his fingers was spliced but she couldn't quite recall if it had been there previously. "After you left, I realized that it just wasn't any good for me anymore."

"Right," she said uneasily. "And the first time I called you? You said you missed me."

"Stop being pathetic," he drawled, sounding quite disinterested. He shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed up at her. "Just let it go."

She swallowed hard, angry with herself for being weak but pissed as hell at him. She didn't understand and no matter how she tried to force everything to make sense, none of it did. This was wrong.

Just plain bloody wrong.

"Who was the bitch with you last night?" she growled, her eyes dilating in anger. She knew that she sounded jealous and probably very young but was too ticked off to really care. No one had ever claimed that she was rational.

He shrugged. "Just someone different."

She pulled back and struck out, delivering a vicious blow to his right cheek. He staggered a few steps and collapsed back against the wall, rain mixing with blood from his now torn lip. He looked up at her, his dark eyes cold.

"You son of a bitch," she growled, her posture positively predatory. She looked like she wanted to kill him.

He seemed unconcerned.

He pushed himself up and brushed his clothes off. He gazed up at the dripping water, apparently more annoyed by the rain than by her. Finally he looked back at her. "We done here? Because I've got just about anywhere else to be."

The anger fell away from her and she stared back at him. "You searched me out just to do this?"

He shrugged. "It was about time and I knew you'd be sniffing around the crime scene."

"Okay," she said, suddenly very tired. "I get it." She stepped back and away from him. "I guess then I'll see you around..."

"Don't count on it," he said coolly.

"Right," she muttered. She looked at him again, searching his eyes for any sign of the usual warmth. When all she got in return was a cold gaze, she leaped towards the sky. She settled on the roof high above and gazed down at him.

Emotion welled up inside of her but she fought it down. She struggled against the desire to break down. It just wasn't her. She wouldn't be defeated by something so pedestrian.

No matter how much it hurt.

There were bigger concerns right now. Bigger problems to be addressed.

Harley was still out and about.

Reese would have to wait for later.

* * * The tall man stood up in the middle of the road, waving his arms wildly. He was covered in what appeared to be blood and his clothes were torn to shreds. He was screaming like a man about to die. "Help me," he hollered as the bus approached.

The driver stopped, albeit reluctantly. He glanced at his uniformed partner, his nerves on fire. This felt bad, everything about it felt off. They didn't have a choice however; the man on the road appeared to be badly injured. If his wounds were severe well then they couldn't just leave him to die.

"Mike, go check on that guy," the driver said to his companion. He fingered his service pistol anxiously.

"Sure," Sgt. Michael Benoit said as he grabbed for his rifle. He gazed back at the three shackled prisoners in the back of the transport bus. They all looked bored which was a good thing.

The doors to the bus opened and Benoit stepped out. He cautiously approached the man in the road. "Sir? Are you injured?"

It was a stupid question but yet somehow it seemed entirely relevant. Benoit had been a transport guard for a very long time and he'd seen some very strange things occur when someone wanted to get free badly enough.

The man looked up. Their eyes locked and then he collapsed. Benoit looked back at the driver of the bus. "Call for an ambulance."

"Copy that," the driver said, picking up his radio. He lifted it to his mouth and was about to speak when he heard a whistling noise. It was the last thing he thought about before a bullet pierced his skull. He fell against the steering wheel, blood seeping down over the leather of his chair.

In the middle of the road Benoit was bent over the bloody man. He dropped his hand down to check the man's pulse. He was stunned to find that the fellow had a very strong pulse. "What the..."

"Stand up," a voice said from behind him. He felt the rifle get ripped from his hands. Silently he cursed himself for not being smarter. This was New Gotham after all.

He moved to his feet, feeling a gun pressing into his lower back. He heard a crack and then his entire spine ignited into flames. He crumbled to the ground, amazed at the sudden utter lack of feeling in his body. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against the ground. Just play dead. Play dead.

Apparently it worked because the man who had been behind him stalked away, closely followed by the bloody guy from the middle of the road. He heard the dude mutter something about how sticky syrup was.

Rookie mistake really.

Damn.

The bloody guy stepped into the bus and looked at the dead driver with bemusement. "Nice," he grinned. He looked towards the back of the bus, behind the security gate. "Neo," he called out.

The smaller man who went by Neo stepped up behind him and gave him the wire cutters. Within moments the fence was down and they moved towards the three inmates. Neo pointed at the guy leaning casually against the far seat in the back.

"She took long enough," he grumbled, standing up. Chains clinked loudly on his feet and hands. He was covered from head to foot in tattoos and he was sporting a face full of hair.

Neo shrugged. "Just got out herself, Torch."

Torch sighed. "Good enough. How'd you get the route for the transport? It was supposedly hidden." He sneered the last sentence, clearly annoyed by all the precautions the cops had taken.

"Help on the inside," Neo said as he cut the shackles away. "Come on, Harley's waiting. There's lots to do."

Torch stepped out of the bus and sighed. He looked towards the shattered supposedly bulletproof windshield. "New ammo?"

"Yep," Neo grinned. "They fucking rock, no?"

"Looks like."

There was a loud squawk from a radio and then a voice rang out. "Torch honey?"

Torch reached over to Neo's belt and removed the walky-talky. He pressed the button on the side. "I'm here, Boss."

"What do you say?"

He laughed. "Thank you babe, God, thank you."

"That's my boy," she cackled. "Now, I have something I need you to do for me."

"Name it."

There was a slight pause and then she said in a low voice. "Listen carefully."

* * *

Helena slipped silently into the kitchen, still dressed in her flannel pants. She had pparently spent the night upstairs in her old bedroom though no one was quite certain when she'd come in. The rain was still coming down outside though it did like to be slowing.

Alfred glanced up at the brunette and frowned. There was a serious aura around Helena and it was cold as ice. He exchanged concerned looks with Barbara who was already sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from an oversized cup of coffee. The aroma of vanilla filled the room.

"How was your night?" Barbara asked, smiling up at the old butler as he put down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of her. She watched as Helena yanked open the refrigerator door and extracted a jar of peanut butter. She pulled down a loaf of bread and dropped herself into a chair opposite her mentor.

"Fine." Helena replied as she opened the jar and jammed a knife into it.

"Were you able to talk to Reese?"

"Yes."

Barbara frowned. It was fairly obvious that this wasn't a conversation that Helena wanted to have. That alone wasn't unusual but something about the brunette was. She was always moody but this seemed like more than that. This looked like depression.

"Helena..."

"How's Dinah doing?" Helena interrupted, her eyes locked on the two pieces of white bread in front of her. She smeared the first one with peanut butter and then licked the knife clean. She caught the glare from Alfred but ignored it. She continued focusing on the sandwich, willing to do anything not to have this conversation. It hurt too damn much.

"Better," Barbara replied softly. "She's taking a bath right now."

"When do you think she'll be able to put pressure on her ankle?" Helena asked with a resigned sigh. It occurred to her that she'd forgotten to grab jelly.

"Maybe a month."

"A month?" Helena asked, surprise in her tone. She felt a wave of guilt creep over. The kid had just been trying to help her out and like most people, had been hurt for her good intentions.

"She doesn't quite have your healing ability," Barbara reminded her. She narrowed her eyes, concern in her green eyes. It was obvious that Helena was upset about something more than just Dinah.

Helena cocked her head. With a groan she pushed the sandwich she had been making away, her appetite suddenly gone. "Damn."

"Helena, what happened with Reese?" Barbara asked, worried. She had a very strong feeling that Helena's mood was at least somehow related to her meeting with the handsome cop. Something had happened between them last night; she was sure of that. Helena was always distant, it was her nature; but this was different. This was more. There was sadness in Helena's turbulent blue eyes.

"Not hungry," Helena announced suddenly, standing up and pushing away from the table. She moved a couple steps away from it.

"Wait," Barbara insisted. "We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk," Helena replied gruffly, tossing her napkin onto the counter.

"Helena, it's important. What happened with Reese last night?"

"Don't wanna talk about it," Helena muttered, glancing around for an exit. She found herself more than a little bit annoyed by her mentors' persistence. When it had been Wade that had been involved, she'd been anything but willing to talk about things. Because it hurt. It hurt like hell.

"Helena..."

"Barbara," Helena said firmly, trying to make it clear to the redhead that she didn't want to talk about it and had no intention of doing so.

Barbara could tell that Helena was being purposely evasive. Just the same, it was crucial that she discover what had occurred between her young protégé and the typically good Detective. It could perhaps confirm or refute her suspicions.

Helena put her back to Barbara, trying to hide the waves of emotions that were ripping through her. Silently she begged the redhead not to push her, not to toss her over that edge. She was too close already. Tears had almost come on more than a few occasions, only held back by the bitter need not to cry over him. Not to be weak because of him.

"I'm gonna go work out," Helena replied. "Maybe later." She fled quickly towards the door, not caring that both Alfred and Barbara were still staring at her.

Barbara looked Alfred in silence for a few seconds.

"Perhaps a lovers' quarrel?" Alfred suggested.

"I don't think so," Barbara murmured. "I'm worried about him. He hasn't checked in to the department in two days. That's not like him."

"She doesn't appear to be in the mood to talk..."

"I can't wait for her to be in the mood, Alfred," Barbara replied dryly. "I could be waiting the rest of my natural life. I need to know now." She dropped her napkin and then turned and wheeled towards the training room.