A/N: Well, I got a lot more time to myself today, to write, do housework and bake brownies, than I thought possible, so here's the next bit. Enjoy!

Oh, and if you want to see the Static Shock pictures, email me! Macfal1219 Four: September

Chapter Four: September

Richie curled up on the couch in the Hawkins' living room, his eyes drifting closed. Everything considered, he felt pretty good. True, he'd been sort of excluded from most of the Static-Gear action lately. It had been Static action. Still, he wasn't sure if it bothered him too much. It felt really good to just sit around or help out a little and not be yelled at if he botched something.

Not that I would ever want to retire my skates, but… He sighed. Maybe soon I'll be ready to jump back into everything, but it's just so… different here. He'd been about to use the word "peaceful" but he had to laugh at himself because it was nosier here than at any of the houses he'd lived in before. But maybe peaceful is still an okay word. Nobody really means anything harsh they say and Mr. H doesn't hit his kids.

Strange how he kept coming back to that. I guess I can't forget my father no matter how much I try. I know he's out there, and that makes me nervous, but… that's not why I keep thinking about him. He's not here, and even though that means I'm free to love V, I feel like something's missing. I don't miss being hit, but… He praised me sometimes. He was proud of me sometimes, or good reasons like good grades or some community service I did for the Meeting Hall, like when I fixed all the lights at quarter of the cost of a normal electrician. And he was worried about me- came to see me in the hospital and everything- when Jimmy Osgood accidentally shot me.

Richie was forced to admit that if his father came back into his life and smiled at him and promised never to hurt him again (and let me love V; don't forget that) he would drop everything and go with him. And even if he just walked back into my life without promising anything, I would still want him to hug me. Sean Foley had never made a habit of hugging his son or his wife, but every once in a while he would do just that, and though Richie could count the number of times he'd been hugged by his father on two hands, he still loved the feeling and missed it.

I sound ungrateful for everything Mr. H, Bernadette and John gave me, but I can't lie to myself. I miss my dad. And even though I wouldn't let myself go back to him if he wasn't a changed man, it would still hurt to send him away. Curling into himself a little more, Richie sighed and pushed his glasses up so he could wipe at his eyes. He had dreamt about his parents the night before, and they had both been fine. They'd been helping him cook his own wedding feast while Virgil, Mr. H and Sharon hung around the kitchen, joking and teasing and complaining that the food smelled heavenly and they weren't allowed to sneak even one taste.

Richie had woken up sobbing. Luckily, only Backpack had heard him. Privately, Richie thought that was only because Virgil was so tired from his trip to the future- a trip that Richie didn't know anything about except 1) Batman had been old, 2) he, Richie, had been fat and 3) Virgil had gotten to see himself and judging by his expression, he'd liked what he'd seen.

I should be happy with the fact that I have a roof over my head and that I'm living with people that actually love me.

Not that Dad didn't love me, he was quick to reassure himself. It's just that he didn't know how to love me.

Richie sat up and buried his head in his hands. Fuck this. He didn't love me, and that's the end of it. No one that really loves his children could have hurt me so badly. If we'd just had differences of opinion that would have been one thing. But… He shook his head. But he abused me. Pure and simple. And I won't give in to what I wish had happened. I was physically abused and wishing that he was a better father won't erase that fact. And I'll be hanged if I'll give him the satisfaction of knowing that I miss him. And even if he can't know, I won't think that way. I won't throw away all the progress I've made. In spite of everything, I feel better now than I did a year ago, and that's the truth.

Richie sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. The gesture was useless, he knew, but he made it out of habit. And even if there was no father nearby to yell at him (or bruise him) for not having neat hair, he couldn't let go of the habit. It was one of the few connections he had to his father that would look completely natural to a casual observer.

Not that I'm trying to fool anyone. Richie made a frustrated noise and stood, turning towards the kitchen with the idea of seeing what there was to make for dinner. Sharon's cooking had sort of fallen by the wayside, but she didn't seem to care.

In light of the fact that Virg seemed genuinely upset about how fat I become in the future, I think we'll have a decorated, nut-and-raisin salad. Richie strode into the kitchen and almost bumped into Virgil, who was hurrying through, seemingly on his way to somewhere important.

"Trouble?" Richie asked, wondering why Backpack hadn't alerted him.

Virgil blinked, shook his head, then reached out and touched Richie's shoulder. "I thought… I wanted to…" He glanced around. "Were you going to start dinner?"

"Not yet," Richie answered. He drew Virgil to the kitchen table and pushed at his shoulder until the taller teen sat. "What's wrong?"

Virgil hesitated, then leaned forward, meeting Richie's gaze unflinchingly. "I wanted to tell you a few things and ask you a few questions." Then he ducked his head. Obviously the rehearsed line had sounded worse than he thought it would, at least in his own mind.

"Virg, you can always talk to me. Please tell me." Richie felt the worries about his father slip away and he was glad to let them go.

Virgil swallowed several times, looked around for a moment, then sighed. "Rich… What do you think of Nina?" He winced, but Richie just shrugged.

"She's nice. I'm glad she gave up her power, though. It was dangerous." He touched Virgil's hand where it lay on the table top. "But I'm glad you got to see your moms."

His boyfriend shifted in his chair. "She kissed you and you sort of jumped. You didn't do that when Shenice kissed you."

Richie laughed. "Well, Shenice didn't wrap her arms around me! And besides, I knew her better. Nina surprised me, that's all." He watched Virgil relax, and grinned. "You don't think I'd take up with some other crazy metahuman, do you? You're the only Bang Baby, the only person I could ever fall in love with, Virg."

Virgil tried to pass it off as if he hadn't been worried, but Richie saw him relax even further. His boyfriend sat forward again. "I love you, Richie."

The blonde blushed; he thought he might do that for the rest of his life every time Virgil said those words. "I love you too, V." He raised an eyebrow. "So, was that it?"

"No, I… I wanted to say I'm sorry Batman called just me to Gotham. That wasn't fair to me."

Richie shook his head. "He explained it when he called to see if I could rescue you."

"Just like that? He explained everything?"

"Well, maybe I drew a little of the information out of him. He was treating me with care because my father's still out there." Richie shrugged. "I asked him to quit it, and he agreed, saying I had proved myself before."

"Oh." Virgil fidgeted. "Um, about what I said when I came back… You're not fat, Rich. It's just…"

"I was in the future." Richie tried to laugh it off. "That's sort of a Foley trait, but since I won't be drinking any beer by the case full when I turn twenty-one, I think I can avoid it." He saw the skepticism on Virgil's face and said, "Not everything you saw is set in stone, V. If it was, I wouldn't have been able to drag you back because just by pulling you back, I messed with the timeline." The blink he received made Richie smile. "Do you want the scientific explanation?"

"Would I get it?"

"Yeah." Richie was grinning again. Somewhere along the line, Virgil's pleas of "Can you kick that in English?" had turned from calls for help to an expected line that was more like a tease than anything else. "Think of a stream running down from the mountains to the plains below. When I found you in the future, locked onto your body signature and pulled you back, I changed the future while I changed the present because, at least according to how that machine was supposed to work, you were supposed to stay in the time the machine dumped you in. I put a boulder in the middle of the stream and changed its course. Only a little, probably, but it's been changed. And everything we do at each moment changes the future in tiny ways because there are a lot of ways every decision we make can affect us." He waited to see if Virgil had any questions, but the other teen was nodding. "Make sense?"

"Yeah." And suddenly Virgil looked as if he'd been able to set down a twenty-foot iron statue in a safe place after carrying it for a hundred miles or so. He got up, stepped around the table, drew Richie to his feet and kissed him. "Yeah," he whispered when he pulled back a few moments later, "I get it now. Thanks, Rich."

Richie shook his head. "Will you tell me why you were so worried?"

Virgil paused, then answered, "Can I tell you some other time? I feel really stupid about it right now."

Richie laughed. "And any man who can admit that deserves to have the time to forget his embarrassment." He took a step back, but held one of Virgil's hands. "Do you want to help me make dinner? I heard somewhere that you make really good sandwiches. Between those and the salad I was going to make, we'll have a feast."

Suddenly, Virgil pulled Richie against him and gave him a fierce hug. "I'm lucky to have a genius for a boyfriend."

Beaming, Richie returned the embrace measure for measure. "I'm lucky to have you too, V. I think I'd go nuts without you there to joke me out of things." He felt the tension in Virgil's arms and shook his head. "I guess I didn't help everything. What's up?" He pulled back and gazed at Virgil.

"I…" Virgil licked his lips. "It's selfish, Rich."

"So? Everyone gets to be selfish sometimes." He was aware that he applied that truth to everyone but himself, but kept his mouth shut on that score. "What's wrong?"

Virgil couldn't resist the earnest, loving look Richie was giving him. He cracked. "I don't want to lose you when you go to college, but…" He licked his lips again. "I don't want to hold you here. You're too smart for Dakota U."

Richie blinked. "Virg," he said, grasping the other teen's shoulders in a firm, unbreakable grip, "I'm going to stay here for undergraduate studies. Why shouldn't I? And by the time I'm ready to get my Masters, maybe they'll be offering everything online." He leaned forward and kissed Virgil, making sure their eyes were locked the whole time. He drew back slightly. "And if that's not true, I believe in us too much to be worried. We'll always be aces, no matter what. We won't fall apart."

Hearing his own words, ones that he had spoken to Richie two years ago, made Virgil grin. "I love you." He hugged Richie again, feeling as Richie's body conformed to his. "We should make dinner."

"We have two hours," Richie answered, his voice muffled against Virgil's shoulder. "Nobody's home. Can we just sit on the couch for a little while?"

"You're so romantic, Rich." Virgil stepped back and offered his arm. "Come into the parlor, sir. Everything is ready for your perusal, complete with plumped cushions and your own personal massage therapist."

Richie bowed and took Virgil's arm. "Just as long as I get to return the massage, that's fine with me."

oOo

McClain Walker and Megan Joslin watched the battalion of well-dressed men exit the elevators, cross the lobby, and walk through the front doors without so much as a glance at anything around them.

Megan dropped to one knee when they were gone to check on her guide dog, Painter. His head was turned in the direction of the exiting men, but he didn't seem worried. Standing up, Megan asked softly, "Who was that?"

McClain shrugged, but remembering that Megan couldn't see her whispered, "Who knows? A bunch of religious guys, I'd bet. Some of them were wearing crosses. Maybe they're Catholic priests here for a little R n' R."

"Did they have notched collars with little white things on them?" Megan took a step, thinking she would engage one of the Catholics in a debate. Since leaving the Christian church four years ago, she sought any opportunity to talk to someone supposedly wiser than herself about what she read in the Bible.

"No. And they really don't look like Catholics, actually." McClain grasped Megan's shoulder. "Come here."

"What?"

McClain turned her older friend away from the doors and whispered, "Some of them are coming back in. I don't want them to think we're staring. I don't like them."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Who knows? They're just- One of them's coming this way." McClain turned back, wishing her mother was there to deal with the visitors to the family hotel. Better yet, I wish these business-type creepoids hadn't shown up at all. "May I help you?"

Painter got up and planted himself between Megan and the man. The seventy-five pound shepherd didn't growl, but he also refused to go back where he'd been.

"Ring room 8. Tell the occupant we're waiting."

Megan listened to the man's voice. He sounded irritated and/or nervous. Not that I'm the best judge of voices, and maybe people talk differently down here in Kentucky. I wouldn't know. I'm from New York. But this guy doesn't sound like he's from Louavul. She hid the smile that came every time she said the city's name just like McClain, who had spent four years down south.

"What's your name?"

"McClain."

"Can't you see who I'm looking at you stupid girl?"

"I'm Megan," Megan answered, "and-"

Painter lunged at the man and Megan had to drop to her knees and restrain him with both her arms.

"You should keep your guard dogs better trained."

"He's a guide dog," Megan answered absent-mindedly as she urged Painter into a sit and began to scratch behind his pointed ears. His fur was sticking up in bristles under her hand and she could feel him trembling. She continued to calm him, speaking softly and petting him, trying to turn his head away from the man, who she could still sense standing a little to her right.

"Ring the room already!" the man snapped.

"One moment please… Hello, Mr. Foley. This is the front desk. Your party is ready to leave." She hung up.

The man stalked away towards the elevators.

Painter growled again and made a half-lunge after him, but Megan drew him back into a sitting position. She said, low, "What's his problem?"

"Which one? The guy on the phone sounded like I was interrupting the most important meeting of his life and then he just hung up on me." She looked down at Painter. "Is he okay?"

"No. He's trembling." Megan rubbed Painter's chest, murmuring to him. "He didn't like whoever that was. I've only seen him do that once before."

McClain watched as the elevator opened and a tall, burly man with blond hair stalked out. He, too, was dressed in a fine suit, and he fell into step behind Painter's target. "Maybe you should just let Painter go. I doubt they're going to stay here another night anyway."

Megan shook her head, but she was grinning. "Painter's on a no-man diet. Too bad it would spoil his training." A pause as she listened to them pass (and restrained Painter, whose growl had become audible once more), then: "Why'd he want to know my name anyway? And why not yours?"

But McClain had seen something the burly blond had dropped. It was only a small card, and he was already gone, so she figured he wouldn't mind if it was missing. She picked it up and brought it back to the front of the desk where she and Megan had been standing. "The guy from room eight dropped something. It's a business card." She went completely still.

Megan stood, after making sure that Painter was going to lay down and relax. "What does it say?"

McClain laughed weakly. "No wonder he didn't want to talk to me."

"What?"

"He's a KKK member."

"They still exist?"

McClain wondered sometimes if someone had put her and Meg together because they were perfectly matched. Meg was a few years than her, but sheltered beyond belief. "Yeah, they still exist, but not as much in the South as everybody thinks. This card says 'Dakota Meeting Hall, 32 Ray Street.'

"Like North or South Dakota?"

"Probably." McClain shook her head and put the card in her pocket. "Mom'll know. She's the geography teacher, not me."

Painter blew air through his nose and Megan smiled down at him. "Yeah, Paint, I know. I think they're idiots, too."

oOo

The new facilities were actually quite nice. Definitely less crowded than the nigger-run shit pile they had all stayed at the night before. Clay kept protesting that the receptionist he'd talked to back in Dakota was white.

Sighing, the man sitting on the bench turned his mind away from last night's cramped accommodations to the splendor before him. Fountains decorated the courtyard, and a small park filled with flowers and more fountains was only half a mile away. Birds sang as the sun rose, and of course the music of the water was welcoming.

Ah, the music of purification. And why shouldn't the birds add their music? They know how lucky they are to be God's creatures. Closing his eyes, Sean enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun on his face. I could feel really comfortable here, and I'm sure Richie will like it, too. He sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him. It's so perfect here. And you can't really see the fences well; it's almost like being free. Surely Richie will forget that he's a prisoner and become liberated in Christ by staying here and learning from all the great teachers. And even if their methods seem harsh at first, they are for the best, and Richie will come to realize that as they help him to grow in the Holy Spirit and walk the straight and narrow path.

He opened his eyes and glanced around once more as a light breeze brought the smell of the nearby flower-boxes to him. It's strange, but I never thought Kentucky would be like this. So… civilized. I knew how many of our group lived here, but I thought they would be constantly under attack by all the idiot police and the niggers. And yet I find a thriving, humming existence. It's so beautiful here, and we're so well established here… Richie will have no difficulty recovering here. And with so many positive influences and good examples to follow, he will become like those around him: strong in the name of God and wise about the ways of the world. My son will never again be taken in by anyone working for Satan.

As the soft music of the birds and the fountains called to him, Sean closed his eyes again and thought of how innocent and beautiful his young son had been.

When he was three, he would always climb into my lap and show me the pictures he'd drawn during school that day. I would hold him and read to him from the Bible, then he'd usually go play with his toys and go to bed. Sorrow tugged at Sean's heart. Why do our children have to grow up in a dangerous world? Why couldn't we have lived in peace? But he knew the answer to that: because Eve had sinned and her husband had followed the temptation she offered. Not for the first time, Sean wished he had been the one in the Garden of Eden. He would have put a stop to Eve's foolishness.

Shaking his head, knowing he couldn't change Man's sinful nature, Sean turned his mind back to Richie. When he was five, I bought him a bicycle. There weren't any training wheels, not for Sean Foley's son. He didn't need them. Richie fell off again and again for hours, so I finally took him inside to talk to him. He wouldn't listen, but I made him listen. And the next day, Richie rode that bike all by himself without falling once. He felt his heart swell with pride. My Richie could always do anything he set his mind to. It was just getting him to set his mind to things. He was so scatter-brained as a kid. Probably got that from his mother. I'm just glad I could always bring him back down to Earth. And he never minded that I had to be hard on him.

Sean's hands tightened into fists. That's not true. He went on trial against me.

He didn't want to, a voice said in his mind, a voice that he seemed to be hearing a lot lately. They made him. The lawyers and the stupid superheroes and mostly that nigger that's raping him right now.

Sean sat up straight, his hands shaking. Right now?

At this very moment. Richie's crying for you and wondering why he didn't listen to you. He's in pain, but he won't die of it. He'll jump into your arms the minute you come to rescue him.

I should go now.

Not quite yet. Patience, Sean. Patience. I have been patient, and have always brought about the best results. Isn't that so?

Yes, Lord. I'm just worried about my son.

I won't let him die, Sean. I swear it on all that is good and beautiful in this world. Trust me.

I do, Lord.

Opening his eyes, Sean watched the sunlight play on the water of the nearest fountain. "I'll be patient. I can do that much for the One who has taken such good care of me." Rising to his feet, he turned towards his room, planning to shower before the morning meeting. Maybe they would even be able to give him a date when he could rescue his dear Richie.

oOo

And here I am again. Hotstreak looked between Madeline, the schoolgirl with the telekinetic powers, and Ebon. At least it's a little more fun this time. He knew Ebon was still licking his wounds. That was the only reason the bad-ass was allowing a girl six years his junior to tell him what to do. It won't last. The minute we break out of here and Ebon gets a taste of freedom, all his arrogance will come back.

Hotstreak still wondered why he had gotten in trouble. He'd been bored, he decided, and wanted to see Static and Gear. So he stood in the middle of a large park and started using his biological flame throwers to toast trees, bushes, the grass right behind people. He felt an urge to avoid burning anyone, and because he was used to following his impulses, he didn't question this one.

I tried talking Talon into destroying things right along with me, but she refused. She said she liked flying too much to be trapped in a cell. And I didn't need her around to attract Static's and Gear's attention. He grinned. I've never needed help getting attention.

Madeline blasted a hole in the wall and the three metahumans jumped out the window. Hotstreak saw Talon swoop in (so she followed me! I knew she cared!) and collide with Gear.

Static's cry was predictable, but it still made Hotstreak feel a little uneasy. Talon knew Static's weakness, but she wasn't working for Ebon. Why did she attack at all? She could have just faded into the shadows and avoided being involved! I mean, Hotstreak thought, if I'd had that option, that's what I would have done. Taking down Static, showing him who's boss, has to occur one-on-one, or else it's not fair-

And what the hell is she doing?

Talon, hovering a few feet off the ground, dropped Gear right next to Ebon, who glanced at him, but then turned his eyes back on Static.

Hotstreak wasn't sure how he'd managed to circle around the fight, but he found himself behind Static. He could feel the air charging around him, and he knew Static would fry Talon. That dumb chick is going to get herself killed! Hotstreak began to sneak up on Static, flame in hand. He wasn't going to burn the hero, just startle him into turning away from Talon. Then maybe I can get Talon's attention and-

He gaped as Talon picked Gear up under the armpits and dragged him even closer to Ebon. All right, bird-brain, do you have even a finch's brain in that orange skull of yours? Cuz I know you sure don't have a parrot's brain in there!

Something fast and purple slammed into Hotstreak from his right and he went sprawling, the wind knocked out of him. Groaning, he lay completely still until he could figure out what was going on. A girl superhero was standing above him and- Oh no. Not that Shebang girl. She had effectively kicked his ass once; why was she here again?

Dimly, he heard Static ask, "Shebang?"

Talon, sounding confused, "She-who?"

Then, and Hotstreak had never been so happy to hear his voice, Gear answered, "She's an old friend."

Talon squawked and Hotstreak sat up a little to look. Talon was nursing a few injured feathers on her leg and Gear was standing with Shebang and Static.

That was when Madeline, who'd been apparently sitting on her duff the whole time, started throwing cars at the superhero trio. Five minutes later, Ebon, who was coming back more slowly than Hotstreak could have ever hoped, called a retreat. The four of them, Talon carrying Ebon and Madeline carrying Hotstreak, flew over the city and the superheroes didn't follow. Hotstreak stared down at the buildings below him and thought, If I could fly, instead of being carried, this would be really cool. True, he could fly by pushing himself up with jets of flame, but it was a lot more trouble than it was worth most of the time.

Madeline, following Talon, deposited Hotstreak on a barren, trash-littered bit of filthy ground. While she stalked off to either confront Ebon, make a new plan or paint her nails, Hotstreak caught Talon's eye and jerked his head towards a tall stack of garbage. Talon hesitated, then followed him.

The minute they were alone, Hotstreak rounded on her. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Why'd you go after Gear? And even if you had to attack him, why'd you take him to Ebon? What were you expecting to happen?" He advanced on her, eyes changing from blue to fire-white. "Did you want Ebon to take him again? Don't you remember what happened last time? Everybody got trashed because Static called in the Justice League!"

Talon's feathers rustled, but she wouldn't look at him. "I saw a chance. I took it. Get off my back."

Hotstreak stared at her. "A chance? A chance to do what?"

"To stay in the gang!" Talon said, looking at him at last. Hotstreak had to admit that her gaze was a little intimidating. "Look, unlike you, I don't want to be out on my own. I like having a family, screwed up as ours is. I like having a sister and a few stupid brothers. I can't keep away from Ebon and Kangor and Aquamaria. And if that means I have to attack a superhero, I will." She planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "What are you going to do about it? Are you going to fight all of us?"

She knew he wouldn't, and Hotstreak hated her for knowing it. "I thought you didn't want Ebon to rape anyone."

She laughed. "He's still shell-shocked. He wouldn't have done anything, even if I'd striped Gear and thrown him in front of him. You know what I think? I think Ebon was almost convinced that Gear was going to give in to him, surrender."

"How can you know something like that?" Hotstreak asked. "You haven't been around Ebon!"

"No, but I slipped back in and talked to Aquamaria, one of the few who wasn't captured because she wasn't there that day. She'd talked to Ebon after he'd captured Gear but before he raped him, and she said Ebon was almost walking on air. He was so sure that he had Gear completely in his power and-"

"Are you trying to tell me Ebon's heartbroken?" Hotstreak snorted and the fire in his eyes faded. "That he thought he had a whore for life?"

Talon spread her wings. "Girls aren't the only ones who can get hurt by a bad relationship." She took off.

Hotstreak didn't bother to call her back. There was no need. She feels sorry for Ebon! And I thought I'd heard everything! Shaking his head at the confusion of the world, Hotstreak stalked around the scrap pile to join the others. For a little while, at least, I'll pretend to be part of this' family.'

He sighed as he listened to Ebon and Madeline argue. And if that means having to put Gear in danger, okay. I can do that. Sadness washed through him but he didn't' let it show. Who am I kidding anyway, thinking that Virgil and Richie would ever love me? They'll never even trust me. So he would pretend excitement in Madeline's plan, and maybe he'd regain his old lust for life's games. And if I don't… Well, I never thought I would be very happy. It's just harder now because…

Because I thought I was going to have something that I could really call mine.

oOo

Gear watched the police load Talon, Madeline and Ebon into the armored car. Men clad in protective suits and holding electrical-pulse prods stood ready, both inside and outside the car to do what they must to keep the Bang Babies under control. They needn't have bothered. Talon was securely held by the tires Shebang had tricked her into falling into, and one of Gear's own inventions kept her from loosing her destructive scream. Ebon was unconscious and Madeline was dazed and confused. Just the way she was the last time Static defeated her.

Gear didn't smile. Two guards were leading a shivering Hotstreak towards the waiting vehicle. Both of them looked more than a little nervous, even though Hotstreak was encased in solid ice. Not that I blame them. And remembering how willing Hotstreak had been to roast him, Gear added, And the truce is now off. Whatever was keeping him just this side of annoying and out of the land of dangerous beasts is gone now. He met Hotstreak's eyes as the metahuman was herded past. And I'm not scared if you tell Ebon who I am, he sent. But if he hurts Virg because of you, I'll see to it that you're frozen within an inch of your life.

Hotstreak looked away.

Good. You're afraid of me. But Richie felt immediately guilty at the thought and had to turn away from Hotstreak to hide the confusion and sadness in his expression. Lord, what's happening to me?

There was no answer.

Richie fought against instant panic. He said I wouldn't always hear an answer like that time when I was trapped by Ebon, so I shouldn't expect one. But then Richie realized that he hadn't really talked to God since then. Once I wasn't in any danger, I dropped Him like a stone around my neck. Shame flooded Richie's mind. I've been so busy working with Nightwing and the others against my anger, so busy getting settled with the Hawkins', so busy trying to forget my father and ignore what my mother said to me…

But you can regain what you've lost, Richie, Backpack said in his mind. Your faith has weakened, but what are you supposed to do when that happens?

Richie grinned. You've been reading the Bible!

I found it on-line and accessed it. I am still filled with many questions, but I remember what you're supposed to do when your faith isn't as strong as it once was.

I need to read the Word of God and pray. Richie was nodding. It's a crucial part of the anger-management process and I skipped it.

You have been through much lately, Richie. Please do not be too hard on yourself.

I'll try, BP. Richie reached up and touched his friend's arm. I love you, BP. And thank you.

You are welcome, Richie. I am only glad to make you happy.

Richie sensed something in Backpack's words, something his invention wasn't telling him. This isn't the time, he sent, but something's bothering you. Will you tell me later?

Backpack hesitated. I am afraid it will hurt you, he said at last.

Don't be. As you help me, let me help you. Please?

Richie's trust flowed down the link and Backpack couldn't do anything but given into the unspoken message that Richie loved, had faith in and depended on him. Yes, we will talk when we are alone.

oOo

Ebon couldn't move. The most terrible thing about being in prison wasn't the lousy food, the screaming of the other jailed Bang Babies or even the sense of failure and missed opportunities. Being in prison meant being in a coat that was specially designed to prevent him from phasing through the walls. To keep him in jail.

In a way, that had been the worst part of being captured by the Leach: he, Ebon, leader of the Meta Breed, had been kept in one place. No one should be able to hold him. Even when he hadn't had any super-human powers, he'd believed that and it had always served him well. Ebon had always refused to be beaten down by circumstances. He would rise to them, meet them head on, and conquer them.

But being held in a cell was like being knocked all the way back to square one. And even though he would never be defeated, Ebon hated having to start over. He swore to make those who pushed him down pay with their lives.

His list of meditated, soon-to-be-murders was growing. Just recently he'd added Madeline Spalding to that list, just under Static. And there was no one above Static. His parents had once held that place of honor, but Ebon had contracted their deaths last year. No one had grieved except Adam, and he was too busy being pursued by music companies to really grieve. So Shannon and Tyrell Evans were dead, leaving the priority place on his list temporarily empty. Then Static had pissed him off one too many times and had been bumped up from third place to the top.

Skip Madeline, Ebon thought as he stared blindly at the stone wall in front of him, his arms locked to his sides by the infernal "coat" he wore. Put her down at number twenty or so. The first nineteen places are all for Static. He cost me not only Dakota, which I can always win back, but he cost me Gear. He cost me a chance to break Gear and make him mine. He took Gear from me and there's no way I'll be able to get him back now because since Static has defied death once, Gear will be reluctant to give up hope again. The only way I could break Gear would be to kill Static right in front of him.

So Gear was out of his reach until Static was dead and Ebon knew, deep down, that he probably wouldn't ever be able to take Gear as he had. Gear wouldn't break so easily a second time, Static corpse or no Static corpse. That son of a bitch flyboy is probably filling my Gear's head with all sorts of encouragement and passion and desire. Gear won't break again, even if Static is dead. I've lost him.

And yet, Ebon had never taken defeat easily. There still might be a chance to have Gear to himself… But it'll be a long time in coming, and I'll have to plan a lot better this time. And when I do, it'll have to be a solo mission. I'm not leaving anything to chance this time. I'll be ready, I'll know the plan, I'll kill Static and I'll take Gear for myself. And if it takes a year, I'll convince Gear to give himself over to me again, to forget that Static ever existed.

And, he had to admit, I'll find a way to make him forget that I raped him. Ebon cursed himself, knowing he'd destroyed all his work for a few minutes of pleasure. If I hadn't raped him, maybe I could have talked him into coming back to me. But now… He sighed and began to kick his feet idly. Well, whatever I try this second time has to work. Because I won't lose patience and blow everything again. Next time, I'll be ready for Gear, ready to wait him out, to gentle him out of his grief and his fear of me, to convince him that he's everything to me and that I'm sorry about what I did and that I want to love him.

Scowling, he added, needing to still the sudden pain in his chest, I'll convince him that I'm not lying, in other words.

Turning his mind from Gear, not wanting to torture himself anymore, Ebon thought of the one person he could drown himself in without guilt or concern. Richie Foley still lives. And I'll bet half of Dakota that he'd surrender to me at once. I could find him- once I get out of here- take him, break him, then keep him around until I'm ready to take down Gear. Then I'll kill Foley, convince Gear I haven't longed for anyone besides him, and make him mine.

He knew raping Richie Foley wouldn't give him the satisfaction he'd once dreamed of; nothing would, after his brush with Gear. But Ebon was a big believer in seeking comfort, even momentary comfort, wherever he could find it. And if that meant pretending that physical pleasure could take the place of true happiness for just a little while, so be it. Just because it didn't take care of his long-term needs didn't mean its temporary benefits should be ignored.

oOo

The room was completely sealed off. Only one vent led into the concrete cell, and the bands on his wrists kept Slipstream from using the small stream of air to his advantage. Grumbling to himself, he plucked at the bright orange fabric of his prison uniform. It was like being encased in a piece of fruit, or dressed in a clown costume. He hated looking like an orange, and wondered if the guards had specifically picked this color to make him look bigger, fatter, uglier.

I'm not ugly. I'm just big for my age.

That was what his mother always said in his defense, and he'd clung to her words while he was growing up.

But now, sitting alone in his cell, trapped so that all he thought of was his next meal, where there was nothing to distract him except dreams of food, Slipstream, Heavy C, Adedamola Wesley the third knew her words for what they were: placations of fear and sorrow.

I am fat. Too fat to be a real challenge to anyone. He remembered Static asking what he was doing besides cornering the market on spandex. That had hurt, more than he ever wanted to admit.

So, you have two choices, said a voice in his head. Adedamola, who his mother had always called Adee, was shocked to realize that the voice in his head was that of his father. The man had been in and out of his life when he was growing up, but he had been there long enough to see his son grow from a healthy size to the breadth and poundage of a baby killer whale. You can either eat yourself into oblivion or do something about it.

Adee stood, resolved to do something about it. And when I'm strong, when I'm skinny, I'm going after Static and I'm going to show him who I really am. And maybe he'll actually be attracted to me. Adee began to jog in place.

And when he got tired after two minutes, he resolved to make it to five, then increase that length of time by two minutes each day. He'd been challenged before by man things, no the least of which was to keep his self-confidence when everyone started picked on him because of his size. He would make it through this.

oOo

Richie knew the visit had to come. He couldn't just leave her alone without any contact from her family. But it was so hard to even think of approaching his mother, let alone actually get up the nerve to get on the bus, head down to the hospital and visit her. At least he now had school to worry about- not that it had become a worry since his powers showed up- and to use as an excuse not to see her.

And of course there's BP to worry about. Richie sat cross-legged on the couch in the gas station and watched Backpack disengage himself from the computer across the room. The new link's almost done. Soon we'll be able to hear each other thousands of miles away without any discomfort. Despite his worries about his friend, Richie longed for that ability. True, they hadn't been separated since Ebon had captured him, but the need was still a very real presence in both their minds. Time hadn't lessened it; they just didn't talk about it to other people. And next, we'll build a link from my mind to V's. Then all of us will be connected and we'll be safe in that connection.

He resisted the urge to sigh. Except, of course, for the fact that BP and Virg still don't' completely trust each other.

It never ceased to amaze Richie that Backpack and Virgil were trying to hide their continued lack of trust from him. Trying and failing, trying again and failing even more quickly. They've had another argument this week, and neither of them will say a word about it. Richie knew it was something he was going to have to confront but it was like the issue with his mother: he kept avoiding it.

Somebody my lack of confrontation skills is going to get me into trouble. He smiled a little. But not now. Right now, I have something bigger to worry about. I think I hurt BP, and I need to know what I did so I can apologize.

It had felt so natural to fight alongside Virgil again with Backpack guarding him, guiding him, helping him. They hadn't done that in far too long. Yes, I know we went to the past together, but even then we spent most of our time apart. It's been over a month since we've had a chance to really and truly work together. Working with Virgil again had calmed him, made him feel like the superhero he was, but the moment he'd linked with Backpack, both of them ready for battle, he'd felt the robot's discomfort. Only when they were completely in sync could he connect with Backpack so deeply, he realized now. More than that, I built that into the original link between us to protect myself from him. Richie sometimes wondered what else he had done that he wouldn't completely remember or understand until months later. In a way, it was like sleepwalking all the time. Disquieting, but it usually didn't affect him, so he had learned to ignore it unless he needed something. It must just be part of the gas's effects. And I'll cope with this eventuality as I've coped with everything else: by loving and being loved by my friends and family and by God. There really isn't anything else I can do. The mind can't be controlled in its entirety, as much as I'd like to believe that. I'll have to rely on my heart and my spirit.

His mind turned to Virgil for a moment- Virgil, back on the couch at home- but Richie wasn't worried about his boyfriend. Even though things were still so new to them, Richie knew instinctively that they didn't have to worry half so much about their relationship as the world wanted them to. And when he said the world, what he really meant was all the movies and media and books and friends' stories that pointed to love, especially love between teenagers, being a short-lived, insubstantial thing. Richie believed that he and Virgil had something special that no one could shake and no circumstances could break. He remembered a line from The Princess Bride, a movie he'd watched with Sharon only a few days ago: Westley, the hero of the story, had said to his fiancée, Buttercup (what a name! Richie had thought, amused): "I will always come for you." Buttercup had asked, "But how can you be sure?" And her handsome Westley had answered, "This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?" So, like Westley and Buttercup, Richie chose to believe that he and Virgil could never be parted.

It was strange, but since the battle with Madeline and the Bang Babies she'd convinced to help her, Richie's faith in many things: love, friendship, God, had bloomed to what it had been when he was just emerging, unscathed, from the trial against his father.

Richie shook himself mentally and smiled as Backpack made his way towards the couch. Patting the cushion behind him, Richie offered a silent invitation. When Backpack had settled himself close to him, Richie turned to face his friend and asked plainly, not wanting any riddles between them and not wanting Backpack to think that he had no idea of what was coming, "How did I hurt you?"

Taking Richie's cue to speak, Backpack said, "Richie, it is foolish. And it happened so long ago…"

"But it still hurts, so it's not too late to talk about it. Please tell me, BP." He sent his love and trust through the mental link and waited.

"Richie… I didn't mean to disappoint you when Shebang snuck into the gas station. She was a friend, or so I thought, and so I didn't see her as a threat. Only after realizing that she didn't know your secret identity did I realize I should have warned you that she was there. And by then it was too late."

The robot was still holding back a piece of information, but he seemingly expected Richie to know it, so Richie closed his eyes and thought back to that day. It had been full of so many confusing things: Shenice's confusion, her threat to tell their secret identities to the whole world, his shock that she wouldn't let he and Virgil help her. Richie began to play over the day's conversation, starting from when he and Virgil had entered the station.

I ordered root beers for us, we sat down, took our masks off, Virg and I heard some gasp, Shenice popped up, BP's alarm went off and I… I… "I said something like 'Sure, now your alarm goes off.' " Richie looked at his friend. "Is that it? It is; I can see that." He reached out and touched Backpack's arm. "BP, I'm sorry. I said that carelessly. I hurt you without thinking. I'm sorry."

Backpack's surprise bloomed in Richie's mind. "You forgive me that easily? You can forgive everything I have done in just a moment?"

"All you did was get hurt by a thoughtless rebuke I made," Richie answered. He urged Backpack onto his lap and laid his hands on either side of his invention, gazing into his sensor-eye. "Of course it hurt you. How couldn't it have? And as for me immediately apologizing, that's only because I value our friendship, our partnership, our love for each other so deeply that I couldn't do anything else. I'm so sorry I hurt you, BP. I swear I'll guard my tongue better in the future." He added, his eyes filled with need, "Please tell me when I hurt you. Humans don't always figure things out right away. Please, BP; I never want to lose you as a friend or do anything to jeopardize what we have."

As the presence in his mind eased, as Backpack relaxed and enjoyed their renewed connection, Richie realized, This is going to happen. The three of us are going to have little misunderstandings like this. And as much as I don't want them, they're completely natural and need to be dealt with as soon as possible. His faith reasserted itself. If we do that and swear to do nothing else, we'll always be together.

He grinned. And if this is an after-school special moment, so be it. I'm just glad this rock is out of our way. I won't be looking for the next one, but I'll be ready when it comes. Because I love Backpack and Virgil too much to let anything get between me and them.

I guess that means I'll have to talk to them about their issues with each other… But I'm not ready to take that one head-on. I'll try a different approach first; I'll love them both and teach patience and tolerance and maybe they'll come to trust each other. He smiled. And of course I'll pray about it. I can't leave God out of our family now.

oOo

Okay, so we've had our fist bad day, Virgil thought as he and Richie walked home from school. It's to be expected. People like us aren't accepted usually. And if a couple made up of a man and a woman of two different races get teased, what should a gay couple made up of the same expect?

Except the kids at school had done a lot more than tease the two of them; one boy threw a book at Virgil, another tripped Richie on his way through the lunchroom. And then there was the article in the school newspaper. I can't even believe the teachers let that be submitted, let alone published! Virgil fumed as he kept his head high and didn't look away from anyone that passed them on the street. I mean, who do they think they are? How could any teacher condone that sort of shit?

Richie laughed suddenly and Virgil stared at him, so shocked that he stopped walking. After a moment, Richie turned towards him. He was still laughing, though more softly now. His eyes danced. And he reached out and took Virgil's hand in his.

Virgil darted a glance around, wondering if anyone was watching and disapproving. And if they were, Virgil was ready to take them on.

"Relax, V." Richie was grinning. He drew Virgil closer and started walking again, keeping his boyfriend's hand tightly in his. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, "On a scale of one to ten, one being our ability to capture a jaywalker and ten the two of us saving the Earth from destruction, where do you think one little article in a high school newspaper falls?"

But if he meant for Virgil to smile and relax, it didn't happen. Instead, his boyfriend glared straight ahead and his hand in Richie's was tense and holding too tightly. But Richie wouldn't give up.

"If you're Frieda, it's a nine-point-five and you've decided to write an editorial about it and form a picket lien in front of the principal's office. If you're Daisy, it means you're hovering around Virgil Hawkins and Richie Foley, the semi-disguised subjects of the article, trying to protect them from every mean look. If you're BP, you've suggested that you hack into the school computer and send them all a nasty virus. If you're Shenice, it means you've already asked if Gear and Static can march into Dakota Union High and declare themselves in love so it will look cool." He could see he was getting to Virgil, so he added, "And if you're Gear, you've analyzed the article and already written a counter-article to refute it and poke fun at those who are making all the accusations." He laughed again. "So, if you're Virgil, are you just going to let it get under your skin, or are you going to add something to this long list of suggestions about what sorts of constructive or amusing things can be done?"

At last, Virgil unbent enough to smile and his hand relaxed in Richie's own. "I'm sorry, Rich; it just ticked me off." He let out a breath. "Did you write the article already?"

"I did, and submitted it as a Letter to the Editor. But if it isn't accepted, I'll print out copies and post them all over school as well as stick them in students' accounts on the school website." He squeezed Virgil's hand. "Did you actually read the whole article, or just see the badly-drawn cartoon on the front and read the first quote?"

Virgil stopped walking again. "I wanted to ask you about that. Why'd you give the paper a quote?"

Richie shook his head. "I didn't. The anonymous reporter- and who can blame him or her for being anonymous?- overheard me tell Frieda I wanted to move to Germany so I could marry you."

"And where'd that comment come from, anyway?" Virgil asked as they resume their walk. He was feeling a little easier about the whole thing, but not much because someone had written the article and if they caused anybody- like Richie's father, for instance- to hurt Richie, well, then they were going to wish they'd never learned to write.

The blonde's eyes were sparkling and he snorted. "She was asking me if I would have the bride's maids and you would have the best men. Then she asked if she could be a bride's maid and I told her she could if only she'd come to Germany with us. Then she asked why she'd have to follow us to Germany, and I told her."

Virgil considered that, then asked, "Okay, I get it. But here's another thing: how did Backpack find out so fast? Or were you just guessing what he would suggest?"

"He knows. The connection we've been working on works finally. He can reach me from any distance, or that's how it should be. At least he can reach me from ten blocks away; we know that much now. We'll have to give it a test tonight on patrol, but…" He grinned at Virgil's shocked expression. "I wanted to make sure it would work before I told anyone."

"And it doesn't… I mean, you don't have any…" Virgil was blushing.

"No visions. No slimy-sexual feelings." He saw Virgil's eyes widen and Richie blushed a little himself, though his eyes were still shining. "That's the way I think of the feeling. Somehow, putting a name to it gave me a tiny bit more control over it. Not much, but at the time, anything was better than nothing."

Virgil nodded and put his arm around Richie's shoulders. "I'm glad, Rich." And he did look glad, at least for the moment. "I know it means a lot to you to be able to talk to him."

"If it's okay with you, I want to work on the link between you and me, too," Richie said softly. He was studying the sidewalk in front of his feet. "I want to have that connection to you, too. Like when J'onn connected us. We could choose what thoughts we sent and could keep others from being sent, but… well, I want to be able to reach to you if… something happened."

The arm around his shoulders tightened and Virgil asked, "What are you afraid of Richie?"

"Nothing specific, but so many things have happened… I mean, Virg, we're only sixteen and look at everything that's happened to us. Face it, bro; we aren't your normal high school students."

Virgil nodded. "Yeah, I know." He drew Richie closer. "If you think the connection's safe, go ahead and make it. I want to be able to get a hold of you if I need to, and this thing sounds like it could help."

Richie relaxed and grinned. "I love you, Virg."

"I love you, too, Rich."

Moonjava: Thank you for the review and thank you for looking at the pictures. I love them so much and I want everybody to know about them.

MsManga: I apologize for the length. I just thought that everybody would rather see something, even if it was short, rather than nothing. Plus, I thought it was going to take my three or four more days to write this chapter. We never find out who Virgil had a kid with, just that he has a son… So… Who's to say it couldn't be Richie's baby? (i.e. the tend of "Telling Tales") Oh, and I hope you enjoyed the HS… 