The Miracle of Three

by Estel Baggins

COMPLETE! Sequel to Telling Tales. Hotsreak aka Fiyero writes his second book. As before, it is composed of gleanings from others’ writing as well as his own.

15. Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

A/N: Connecting with the episode order of the series. Just in case you don't know the order, here's the order from "Gear" to the end of the series. It might help to place events. Any episodes I skipped have no bearing on the story.

Season 3:

26. Gear

27. Static in Africa

28. Shebang

29. The Usual Suspect

30. A League of Their Own (part 1)

31. A League of Their Own (part 2)

32. Showtime

33. Consequences

34. Romeo in the Mix

35. Trouble Squared

36. Toys in the Hood

37. The Parent Trap

38. Flashback

39. Blast from the Past

Season 4:

40. Future Shock

41. She-Back!

42. Out of Africa

43. Fallen Hero

45. No Man's an Island

46. Hoop Squad

47. Now You See Him…

48. Where the Rubber Meets the Road

49. Linked

50. Wet and Wild

51. Kidnapped

52. Power Outage

A/N2: Tenshi no Mugen (the sweet, talented artist who's been drawing the pics for this story) has drawn a sweet family portrait of Richie, Bernadette and John. Email me for the pic! It's REALLY REALLY GOOD!

Book III

Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

"How long were you going to wait to tell me?" Robert demanded, facing his son and his foster son across the table. "I had to find out from somebody at the Center who left the school newspaper lying around! Boys, I'm not angry at you, but you can't just let this sort of thing slide! This is wrong, prejudiced and inexcusable!" He shook the paper under their noses, then thumped it on the table for good measure.

Virgil held Richie's hand under the table. "Pops, the article only came out yesterday and… we didn't want to worry you. We're okay with this. We're handling it. Richie's written an article and-"

"And you're not going to fight this?" Robert dropped the paper on the table and stared down at it. " 'Attraction between students can be distracting to those students, but attraction between two boys can distract everybody.' What sort of garbage is this?" His head snapped up. "And how can you be so calm about this?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Slowly, the anger left his eyes. "I suppose you're both taking this better than I would, and I should be proud of you for that. But after everything else you've lived through…"

You have no idea, Virgil thought, then smiled. His father's comment made him think of Richie's words the day before. "Richie said that on a scale of one to ten, one being getting a paper cut and ten being going through another trial, this is like a four, so we can handle it." He glanced at Richie to see if he minded being misquoted. But Richie was smiling slightly, his eyes dancing. He liked my adaptation.

Robert was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "Can I see the article you wrote, Richie?"

"It's upstairs," Richie answered. "I can quote it to you if you want." He glanced at the clock. "But I need to make dinner."

Robert smiled. "Will it be published in the school paper?"

"I hope so," Richie answered. "If not, it will be on the school website." He stood and went to the refrigerator, where he'd left some chicken to thaw that morning. "V, will you help me?"

At once, Virgil rose from the table and went to Richie's side. Robert watched them for a moment, working side-by-side, their backs to him, completely relaxed. He decided to leave well enough alone and snuck out of the kitchen.

Virgil peeked over his shoulder when his Pops was gone. "Are you shy, Rich? Why didn't you want to show him what you wrote? I've seen it; it's great."

"Go get me two eggs, will you?" Richie asked as he started to cut up the thawed chicken into cubes. When Virgil was at the fridge, he said, his voice low, "I'm not used to showing anything to anybody. I can do it with you because… well, because you've seen my stuff before. He hasn't. He might… I don't know… laugh at it or something. He might think I'm…" Richie shook his head and started cutting faster. "I'll show him, or he'll see it when it gets in the paper. I just… I don't want to see his face."

Virgil returned with the eggs. "He'll think it's great, Richie. He'll see all the good points you made, how you challenged each point that stupid article made, that you didn't use emotion but logic. No one can stand up against what you wrote. It's perfect."

Richie left off the half-cut chicken, washed his hands and took the eggs. Cracking them into a bowl, he said, "Get the bread crumbs, okay? Virg, logic doesn't do any good against hatred. Don't you know that?" Then he sighed and turned to face Virgil. "I'm sorry, V; I didn't mean that. I know you know." He blushed.

Virgil set the bread crumbs aside and took Richie in his arms. "It's okay, Rich; and don't think that logic can't help some things. It won't change the fanatics' minds, but it'll help the others."

Richie nodded and took a step back. "We've got to finish this."

Virgil retrieved the bread crumbs. "Do you want me to cut the rest of the chicken?"

Richie glanced over his shoulder. "Actually, if you'll grab the olive oil and pour half a cup into that pan there I'll cut the chicken."

Virgil raised an eyebrow as he rummaged through a cupboard. "You don't trust me to cut it just right?"

"No offense, Virg, but even if your sandwiches are to die for, I've seen you cut things before." He was cubing the last of the chicken, but he was only half-looking where his knife was. "You might cut-" He gasped and glanced down at his bleeding index finger. Shaking his head, he went to the sink and washed the cut.

"Rich, what were you-?" Virgil saw the blood on the cutting board and rushed to Richie's side. "Geez, Rich, and you were worried about me working with the knife?"

Richie grimaced at him. "That's what I get for talking to you while I'm working. You're a dangerous distraction. Get me a Band-Aid."

When he'd cleaned and bandaged the small cut, Richie returned to the cutting board, washed away the blood, and finished off the meat. Virgil hovered at his elbow the entire time and Richie had to laugh. "I'm not going to do something stupid twice in one night, V. Did you even measure the olive oil yet?"

Virgil waited until Richie washed the knife and put it in the sink before he would consent to leave his boyfriend's side and find a measuring cup. And as they finished the rest of the dinner preparations, he kept his eye on Richie. The blonde sometimes blushed, but mostly he just smiled and returned Virgil's attention with teasing eyes.

oOo

The suitcase sat open on his bed. It was little more than a duffle bag, really, because flying with a real, fully-loaded suitcase would be out of the question. Two days of underwear went into the bottom along with a paperback copy of Bard. Richie grinned. Yeah, so a science-nut like me shouldn't like to read about ancient Ireland, but I can't help it. And if this two-day conference turns out to be a snore, I'll want something to keep me awake. Besides, BP and I can use the opportunity to talk about what in the story, if anything, is backed up by fact. It would really fun if everything except the magic was real. All the historical stuff, in other words.

Socks and T-shirts joined the underwear. Next went a spare costume.

I'm just lucky they invited Gear and not Richie Foley. This means I can take BP and not have to hide him. At first, when Richie had received the letter, which had been delivered to the city of Dakota and forwarded to him by the mayor- in person; now that was embarrassing- he'd checked it ten different ways, just to make sure it was legit. Then he'd emailed Robin and found out that while he hadn't been invited, Cyborg had, and they'd run about a hundred checks on it, including having Batman look into it. It was on the up and up, and might even be interesting. It was on the link between man and machine; a university in Gotham was showing off their new hardware and software and wanted to discuss it with some of the biggies in the industry- companies and superheroes alike.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, soap, shampoo, razor (not that he expected his few chin-hairs to be a problem, but hey, it might make a good weapon if a weapon was needed)… Anything else? Oh, yeah- lube. Richie grinned at the little high he got from pretending that Backpack's emergency oil for badly-moving joints was something cherry or vanilla flavored for Virgil. Someday, he thought, and his grin broadened as he tucked the oil away. On top of these last few things went an extra, collapsible helmet. Again, just in case.

Richie zipped the bag and slipped it over his shoulder. Now, to get to the gas station and change. But first… Richie walked downstairs, and saw the Hawkins family waiting for him. Virgil was standing at the bottom of the stairs, Sharon was on the couch and Mr. H was hovering near the arm chair, not quite sitting. Virgil knew where Richie was going, so did the other two: they just didn't know how he was going, or what he would be wearing. Richie's eyes shone as he looked at his family waiting to see him off. Virgil would be walking him to the "bus stop," but Mr. H had to get to the community center and Sharon had classes. In truth, Virgil had to go to school, but he was being excused from the first two by a note from his Pops. By this Richie knew that Mr. H loved his foster son and he grinned to himself.

And me? Why am I getting to skip school? Simple; Bruce Wayne had written a note, even though he wasn't involved in the seminar.

Virgil took Richie in his arms for only a moment when Richie was standing in front of the door. The two of them would be walking together, but it didn't matter; Virgil would always seize any opportunity to hold his boyfriend. Then he turned Richie and pushed him gently towards his pops.

Richie blinked. He'd never been hugged by Virgil's father. His moms had hugged him many times, but he hadn't thought…

Robert smiled and opened his arms. "You're my son. I always send my children away with a hug. I'll do it when they're thirty."

Blushing, grinning, blinking rapidly, Richie allowed himself to be drawn against the other man's chest. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of being so unquestionably loved. Someday this will all stop being a surprise to me. He wasn't looking forward to that day, but it would keep him from getting so pink all the time.

When Robert stepped back, Sharon stood. She gazed at Richie from the other side of the couch, then stalked around to his side. She tousled his hair, then gave him a quick hug. "Be careful, don't talk to strangers and don't eat the meat. Mad cow's on the rise again." She smiled at him, then grabbed her school things and left, closing the door behind her.

"Dang," Virgil commented, staring at the door. "If that was Sharon, I think we'd better check her room for a chemistry set. Because Mr. Hyde usually walks out that door, but she changed into Dr. Jekyll just for you, Rich."

"Virgil…" Robert warned as Richie tried to keep from laughing.

"Sorry, Pops." Virgil glanced over his shoulder and offered a half-convincing apologetic smile. "Come on, Rich; we'd better get started. We don't want you to miss the bus."

Richie smiled at Robert, the mustered up the courage to say, "Bye, Pops." When he and Virgil were outside, he glanced at his boyfriend to see if Virgil was going to say anything about his words, but Virgil was just smiling. So he's okay with that. Richie's grin widened, then he let it drop so he wouldn't look half so insane and moved a little closer to Virgil so their arms brushed.

"You'll be back Sunday night, right?" Virgil asked.

Richie nodded. "Yeah. At about eight. I'll drop by the station to change, then you can pretend to meet me at the bus stop and we'll walk home together."

Virgil nodded, seeming lost in his own thoughts.

"Virg? You okay?"

The taller teen paused, then said, glancing at Richie quickly before looking away again, "Do you remember when I said I would tell you about what happened when I went to the future?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was weird at first because Batman- the new Batman- didn't like me at first and I didn't like him, either." He saw Richie's surprise and grinned a little. "He was a little older than us, but not much. His name was Terry and he was Batman's replacement, even though he went to Batman for answers a lot of times. But working with a new Batman made sense since the one we know now was old. What was weird was… I had a son." He swallowed. "Does that mean I won't still be with you? I know you said the future changes all the time, but I couldn't imagine leaving you. And since I was sent to the future after falling in love with you, does that mean I could fall out of love with you?"

"Who says you did?" Richie asked. "Maybe your son was adopted. Maybe we adopted him." He had thought of another possibility, but wasn't sure if he wanted to share it with Virgil.

In early July, Richie had dreamed an invention that had followed him out of his dreams and kept him up for two days working at his desk with paper and pencil after pencil. Nothing short, I dreamed I was pregnant with V's baby because of the miracles of science. So maybe the reason I was fat in the future wasn't because I'd eaten too much, but because I was pregnant. Shaking his head, Richie knew he wasn't ready to discuss any such thing with Virgil. Not only because I'm not sure what he would think, but because I'm not sure what I think.

Virgil was grinning. "Have I said you're a genius lately, Richie? Well, you are, and I love you." He put his arm around Richie's shoulders and they continued to walk like that. "You're probably right. And the future isn't set in stone, anyway, so whatever happened can be changed."

Richie smiled, setting his dream aside, even though the dream was just as vivid now as it had been when he was dreaming it.

Ten minutes later, the two of them entered the gas station and Virgil watched Richie become Gear. Backpack, who had slipped into the station late the night before, climbed onto Richie's back. When Richie was ready to take off, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder, Virgil held open his arms and Richie returned the embrace.

"Be careful," Virgil said softly. "Dr. Jekyll knew that much."

"I will be."

Virgil looked at Backpack and decided he needed to ask, even though he knew Backpack would do it anyway. "Watch out for Richie, okay?"

"I will, Virgil. Don't be concerned. The journey is short, the conference is legitimate and no one will hurt Richie. I promise."

Richie blushed, then laughed. "All right, you two. I'm still here, listening to all this." He squeezed Virgil's hand, then patted Backpack's arm. "I'd better get going. We're supposed to all report in by eleven."

Virgil glanced at his watch. Twenty after seven. "Think you'll make it?"

"There's no head wind and my rockets are fully charged. Yeah, I'll make it." Richie hugged Virgil again. "I can't exactly kiss you, but just pretend, okay? I'll call you tonight."

Virgil followed Richie outside. He had to say it one more time. "Be careful, Gear. I'll see you when you get back."

His partner smiled at him. "I'll be all right. Don't worry about me." With a final wave, he took off.

Virgil watched him until he had disappeared, then, sighing, trudged off to school. Hope I can stay awake in English.

oOo

They had only been in the air for five minutes when Backpack's alarm went off and he said urgently in Richie's mind, We are being followed. A large craft surrounded by a damping field is just to our east, behind the building we are passing.

Richie made a quick course correction, doubling back on himself before asking, Are you sure they're following us? He knew to trust to Backpack's instincts, follow them, then ask questions. It had saved his life before, and Backpack's, too. And even sometimes, when Backpack was wrong, Richie knew he would rather be cautious than hurt or dead.

They are tracking us, at the very least. I was able to tap into their radar system. While they notice other things besides, we are at the center of their attention.

Richie nodded. He really hadn't expected Backpack to be wrong, but… I hoped. He flew behind a building and then among a set of power lines, trusting Backpack's navigation to keep him safe. The electricity might confuse the radar. Next invention, he promised his friend, radar-confusing hardware.

That will be quite easy to- Richie! Drop!

Richie at once went to half-power on his skates and fell out of the sky. Something large passed just over his head and Richie turned his descent into a dive, flying as fast as he could away from the pursuing ships.

Now there were three instead of just the one.

They are partially cloaked from my sensors, Backpack announced.

Splendid. See if you can raise Virg, Batman or the J League on the comm.. Richie turned sideways and flew down an alleyway, ducking under some fire escapes and flying amidst others. One of his pursuers crashed into the metal railings and crash-landed below. Richie didn't look back.

Richie, my signal is being jammed.

Richie was headed for a park. Maybe he could lose them among the people. If I can just find a place to drop down and change… Try tapping into the Shock Vox. That has ten frequencies.

Yes, Richie.

All thoughts of who might be chasing him and why didn't so much as enter Richie's mind. He'd find out if he got caught, and if he didn't, Backpack had seen what they looked like and the two of them could run a search either from Gotham or the safety of the gas station.

Richie spotted a bridge and thought maybe he could dive under there and hide among the maze of supports long enough to change. I'll have to stow the duffle bag; they've seen me with it.

Richie-

Two sleek craft approached Richie, one from each direction. He thought to fly down, but saw another craft approaching from below. And it was no good to fly up because he'd flown under a tangle of trees; he couldn't hope to escape that way.

Richie hurled a Zap Cap at one of the ships; the Cap struck and the ship abruptly lost power. But something whizzed past Richie's ear and he turned in that direction, thinking to fend off whatever it was.

Tranquilizer, Backpack said. Then, after a moment, Richie, something- and Backpack promptly fell silent in Richie's mind. He still clung to Richie's back, but that was more due to programming than consciousness.

Richie felt the sudden absence of Backpack as a physical blow and when he threw the next Zap Cap, it went wide. He tried to retreat in the direction of the craft he'd knocked down, but another had taken its place. Correction: two more. Where are they all coming from and what do they want?

It was still a useless question, unimportant at the moment, but Richie couldn't help it. He hurled another Zap Cap; this one hit its mark, but Richie wasn't able to see it connect. Something hard was jammed into his right side. For an instant, the world swam before his eyes and he tried to call to Backpack. Then everything went dark.

oOo

"Please…"

The shoulders under his hands tensed. "No." A pale hand reached back and brushed at his fingers. "Don't ask me again. I love Virgil and there's no way in hell I would ever leave him."

"I'm not asking you to leave him. I love him, too." Hotstreak glanced at the mirror to gauge Richie's reaction. But the blonde's expression was blank. Resolved not to give up, Hotstreak resumed his gentle massage and waited for Richie to understand how much Hotstreak really loved him. After all, Richie could pull away, and he wasn't. That had to mean something.

"Virg would never go for it." Richie reached up and took off his glasses. Rubbing at his eyes, he said, "Please don't do this to me. I love him and I can't lose him."

"What if I promised you wouldn't lose him? What if I promised he would accept us, all three of us, being together?" Hotstreak leaned closer and kissed Richie's cheek, then rubbed against him, skin to skin. Richie smelled of a soap Hotstreak had always associated with his Aunt Sue. It was a strange smell for a man to be wearing: slightly vanilla and slightly minty, but it comforted Hotstreak at once and he didn't find it the least bit strange.

"You can't promise something like that." Richie was still rubbing his eyes and now Hotstreak realized that younger teen was trying not to cry.

"Please, Richie, I don't want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I want you to know that I'm here for you and I love you. And if you can't be with me, I understand. But I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Richie turned in the small chair that had been placed in front of the mirror. His eyes were red and he squinted up at Hotstreak. Making no move to retrieve his glasses, he stood instead and buried his face in Hotstreak's chest. "I can't leave him," he whispered. "He's the only one that wants me. He's the only one who will ever touch me."

Hotstreak blinked and took a step back. "Richie, what did you say?"

Richie was crying outright now. "He's the only one that will ever touch me, will ever love me. And it's okay if I'm his whore because-"

Hotstreak groaned and rolled over in his sleep. The dream faded and changed. And once one dream started, he forgot the one before.

Static stood between Ebon and Richie, his hands filled with electric fire. Around them, shadows leapt up the walls of the alleyway, climbing the bricks as if they were trying to escape. Hotstreak glanced up, and saw Carmen Dillo, Slipstream and Ferret staring down at the confrontation in the alley.

They're like vultures, he thought, ready to jump on whoever's left. He looked back at Richie, and wondered for the first time why the blonde wasn't in costume. He was huddled amid piles of garbage, his face bruised and his eyes wild. One of the lenses of his glasses was broken in a starburst pattern. Hotstreak, unnoticed by the others, took a step towards the blonde, his hand outstretched. He opened his mouth to reassure Richie, but then he caught sight of Richie's bare chest. Lash-marks and bruises covered the fair skin, and blood was running from a cut close to his throat. Someone tried to kill him!

"Richie!" Hotstreak dropped to one knee at the teen's side and tried to take his hand. Richie flinched away and whimpered.

Static turned towards him, his eyes full of concern. He didn't seem to see Hotstreak. "It's okay, Rich; I'm here. It's-"

Ebon slammed into Static, drowning him in shadow. A moment later- too short a time, Hotstreak knew, and yet he didn't question what he was seeing- Ebon backed away and dropped Static. The superhero was dead.

Ebon moved towards Richie, purring, "Come here, Whore. You belong to me."

Richie screamed and tried to jump up to run, but Ebon caught him and dragged him close, caressing his bare back. Glancing over Richie's shoulder, the living shadow said, "Thank you for giving me the picture, Hotstreak. He's just as I imagined." A vortex formed under Ebon's feet. "Tell Batman Richie's mine now."

Sweating, Hotstreak beat at his pillow and cried out. Still he couldn't wake up.

Two warm bodies were pressed against him, and Hotstreak found that his chest was being used as a pillow by two smaller people. He opened his eyes and blinked at the sunlight trickling through the broken window to his left. Squinting, he glanced down and saw the black dread locks lying against his pale skin and against another boy's cocoa-rich color. Gasping, Hotstreak drew Virgil closer to him, noticing that the superhero wore a white T-shirt and midnight-blue boxers. Hotstreak hardened as he thought of what lay beneath those boxers. My electric god, he thought, grinning and burying his nose in Virgil's hair. You're beautiful when you're asleep.

Something thumped downstairs and Hotstreak turned his head towards the bedroom door. Only then did he realize that he'd been in this room before. Except now the room was clean; there wasn't a shred of paper on the floor. Well, except for one picture… Framed, blown up, and hanging on the far wall, was a copy of the picture Hotstreak had given to Ebon. The only difference here was that Richie seemed to be looking right at him.

Hotstreak moaned as the thump was repeated downstairs. Then he felt the body on his other side stir, and he looked down, meeting Richie's sleepy gaze.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked, reaching up and touching Hotstreak's cheek. He smiled slightly. "Did you dream I doused you with water balloons again?"

Hotstreak glanced towards the picture again, but it was gone. Instead, a photograph of himself, Richie and Virgil hung there. Shaking his head, Hotstreak wondered how he could have ever thought it was really the picture he'd given to Ebon. Why in the name of all things good would they ever hang that picture up? Besides which, how could they have gotten it back from Ebon?

Looking back down at Richie, he answered, "No. It was… nothing."

Richie sighed and snuggled closer. "I'm not ordering you to tell me, but… I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Virgil yawned and stretched. He reached across Hotstreak's bare chest and cupped Richie's cheek. The blonde raised his head and smiled. Returning the smile, Virgil intertwined his fingers with Richie's and brought their joined hands to rest on Hotstreak's chest. They both looked up at Hotstreak expectantly, so he placed one of his hands atop theirs.

The thump was repeated downstairs, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

In an instant, Virgil and Richie were up. As one, they started for the closet where they hid their superhero costumes. Hotstreak was just struggling into a pair of pants when the bedroom door burst open. Virgil slammed the closer door closed and stood with his back to it. Meanwhile, Richie had retreated to the nightstand. He grabbed his glasses and fumbled them on. With part of his mind that wasn't occupied with the intruder, Hotstreak noted that Richie was wearing a pale blue T-shirt and blue boxers that had little flames and little lightning bolts on them.

Then Sean Foley filled the doorway and Hotstreak kindled flames in his hands. Or tried to, at least. He couldn't ignite. Glancing at Virgil, he wondered if the teen would charge up to save Richie. Of course he will; he's Virgil.

Richie's father raised a gun in shaking hands. "Get away from that nigger, Richie. Don't let him control you anymore." He took a step into the room and pointed the gun at Virgil. "Obey me. It's the only way you'll save him."

Hotstreak thought maybe he could kick the gun out of the man's hand before he got off a shot, but maybe wasn't good enough.

Virgil held out his hands like he was trying to use his powers, but nothing happened.

Ebon put a tiny bit of pressure on the trigger.

Ebon? We were dealing with Foley, Sr. a moment ago! Hotstreak thought, confused and lost.

"He's my whore, Static. Yeah, I know who you are. And I know that my precious Gear and my little whore Richie are one and the same." He raised the gun a little more. "Beg me for your life, hero."

With an inarticulate cry of fury, Richie leapt across the distance, slamming into Ebon full force. He knocked the gun out of Ebon's hand, but Ebon wasn't solid. In an instant, Richie was stuck him as if he was a tar baby. Ebon laughed and disappeared, taking Richie with him.

But when he was gone, Hotstreak saw that Sean Foley was still there. Without a word, the man, somehow still holding his gun, fired twice at Virgil.

oOo

Hotstreak didn't log on at three o'clock that morning to watch the anger-management talk. He logged on to talk. Thoughts of being traced didn't bother him; neither did worries about exposing himself and letting everyone know his business. He was past caring what Ebon might do if he found out Hotstreak went for help. Even though he couldn't remember exactly what he'd dreamed, he knew it had been at least one nightmare, and maybe more. And it had something to do with losing Richie and Virgil.

And besides, it's not help I'm looking for, he kept telling himself. I just don't want to keep this to myself anymore and maybe someone who knows Richie and Virgil better than I do can tell me about them.

His luck was in. Only one person was signed on and it was Knight. I can't wait. I have to do this now before he logs off. Hotstreak typed:

FHS: Nightwing, I want to talk. I'm here for your vaunted counseling services.

Knight: Who are you?

FHS: You're probably tracking me, but you won't be able to find out where I am. I'll tell you who I am in a minute, but let me say first that I've been spying on you guys for weeks. You need to get better security.

Knight: So why are you revealing yourself now?

FHS: Like I said, I need you to counsel me.

Knight: And why should I help you?

FHS: Because I've got questions about people you care about, and if you don't help me I might do something drastic.

Knight: So you're threatening my friends. That's a mistake.

Damn! I didn't mean it like that! He began to type again before he could lose his nerve.

FHS: I wouldn't hurt Richie or Virgil for the world. It's just that I might do something wrong and get them in trouble. I don't want that, you don't want that. Let's work together.

Knight: You have my attention. And you have my promise that I won't tell anyone about this conversation unless you tell me you're planning to kill someone.

He sounds like the counselor I had in sixth grade. 'What we talk about in our meetings is completely confidential, Francis, unless you tell me one of three things. One, you're planning to hurt someone. Two, you're planning to hurt yourself. Three, someone is hurting you.' And just like I trusted Mr. LaFave, I think I can trust Nightwing.

FHS: Okay. I'm Hotstreak.

Knight: Well… I've heard of you but I've never met you. So what do you want to tell me?

FHS: How well do you know Richie?

Knight: If you've really been reading our online exchanges for weeks, you can answer that for yourself.

FHS: I meant, do you know him off-line?

Knight: You know, for a high school drop-out, you type really well.

FHS: My aunt taught me.

Why the hell did I tell him that?

FHS: And you type really well for someone the Batman kicked out.

Knight: Nice comeback, Hot-Head. Are you going to tell me what's on that hotplate that passes for your mind or am I just wasting my time?

FHS: Stick it. I need your help, or I'd tell you to do worse than that. It's simple, Bat-Boy: I love Richie and Virgil and I can't tell them. What do I do?

Knight: Dear Batty, I'm in love with a superhero team and I'm a known criminal. Signed, Dummy from Dakota. Dear Dummy, What can you do besides either talk to them or not say anything? It's your choice. Now, as to how to talk to them, maybe I can help you there, but first you have to decide what you're going to do. No one can make that decision for you. There's just one thing I want you to know.

Hotstreak was so shocked that Nightwing was going to help him that he didn't register that he was supposed to answer at first. Then he swallowed, pulled himself together and typed:

FHS: I want to tell them. But I don't think they want me. They have each other already and they've been so close for so long.

Knight: First, get rid of the defeatist attitude. That'll make sure you don't make it with them. Second, tell me what you know about Richie.

FHS: Why?

Knight: I'm just curious if you know anything besides his identity. Oh, and I know all about your little run-in at the hospital. I also know you tried to barbeque him a few days ago when the two of you were in a junk yard.

FHS: I knew he was going to dodge it!

Knight: Whatever. What do you know about him?

FHS: I know he was abused by his father. I know he got through a trial by having Gear testify that he, Richie, was really being abused.

Knight: You could have gotten that from the Dakota Herald. Tell me something that wasn't in the papers.

FHS: Richie and I agreed that if he didn't tell anyone besides Virgil about me saving his life in the hospital that I wouldn't tell anyone about him being Gear. And I haven't. Slipstream knows, and what he does with the information is his own business, but Ebon hasn't learned from me.

Knight: And this is supposed to prove that you're full of good intentions?

FHS: I am full of good intentions, Bat-Boy. I just can't always follow them, or I get them confused. I'm new at this whole love thing, okay? And I'm new at not wanting to fry Static and beat the shit out of Virgil. I don't understand why I love them, except that I do. And I want to tell them. I can't tell you anything about Richie that you'll trust. I love him. I led Virgil to him because I didn't want Richie to become Ebon's whore. I've stayed out of their way as much as possible because I love them and I don't want to have to fight them. But I get stir-crazy, and that's why I joined up with Ebon again. For that and other reasons, but those are none of your business. Are you going to help me or what?

Knight: Yes, but you need to understand one thing: if you hurt Richie or Virgil in any way, not only will I hunt you down, but so will the Teen Titans, Batman, the entire Justice League and a few less savory friends of mine. And I'm not just talking about physical pain. If Richie tells me you made him feel terrible

FHS: I get it. And I'm not worried. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Richie's suffered enough to qualify as a war survivor. Even if I was still a shit bent on causing as many problems as possible in a short time, I wouldn't hurt Richie. That would just be too much like seeing a baby shivering on a street corner and throwing it in front of a speeding car.

Knight: You have a way with words, disturbing as they might be. My advice is that you talk to Richie first. He's the more receptive of the two. If he's interested, he'll talk to Virgil, then the three of you can talk. If he isn't, he'll tell you to go away, and you'd better listen to him. No harassment, now. Understood?

FHS: But how do I talk to him? What do I say? 'Hey, Richie, I love you and I just wanted you to know it' doesn't work somehow.

Knight: I'm not sure how to word it, but you need to be honest with Richie. Don't try to bully him into anything and don't try to con him. Tell him what you really feel, and tell him without insulting him or pressing him or doing whatever it is you do to get on everyone's nerves.

FHS: Oh this is just so great. It's just so perfect. I don't really know what to do, and all you can tell me is to approach Richie first. Thanks a hell of a lot. How am I even going to get him alone? They're attached at the hip.

Knight: That's your problem. First, I'd make sure you really love Richie. That's more important than anything else right now because Richie is being protected by some of the strongest, most dangerous superheroes in the galaxy. Trust me: you don't want to tick these people off.

FHS: I won't. I told you: I love Richie. I'd rather get my own hand chopped off than hurt him.

Knight: And what about Virgil? Are you sure you love him, too, or is it just that he's attached to Richie?

FHS: You fucking shit how can you even suggest that? If I knew where you were, I'd burn your building down and hope you got roasted!

Knight: Just answer the question.

FHS: You're a son of a bitch. I know I love Virgil, but it's just easier to talk about Richie because I understand my love for him better. He's a puppy I want to take care of, but he's also so strong that I can't imagine treating him like glass. Like a puppy, he'd get into trouble and discover things for himself. I'd be there if he needed me, but I wouldn't stop him from learning things on his own.

Knight: You and Virgil should start a Richie-as-Puppy fan club. On second thought, maybe you should talk to Virgil first. Even if you can't explain how you love him, at least you could convince him that you love Richie like he does. Maybe that would be a better way to get the two of you to understand each other. Sometimes understanding and friendship is a better way to start a relationship. You'd have an easier time making a relationship with Richie by confessing your love, but you might have to convince Virgil that you can be trusted and that you care for Richie before he'll let you get close.

Knight: Hotstreak? You still there?

FHS: Yeah. I'll think about this.

FHS has logged off.

FHS has logged on.

FHS: Thanks.

Knight: Don't mention it. And I won't either. What happens now is up to you.

Knight: Hotstreak?

FHS: Yeah?

Knight: You have a lot of guts.

Knight has logged off.

FHS has logged off.

But what am I going to do? I bet Bat-Boy never had trouble getting someone to fall in love with him and listen to him. Hotstreak groaned and stood after shutting off the computer. There was only one thing to do at times like this:

Go for a drive.

Not that he had a car, but when had that ever stopped him before? Grinning, deciding to forget everything for a little while, Hotstreak left the underground room and headed up to the street.

And if Static and Gear just happen to show up to stop me, maybe I'll get the chance I wanted. Ignoring the butterflies that thought caused in his stomach, Hotstreak went car-hunting.

oOo

Backpack couldn't hear. He couldn't see. He couldn't sense anything. It was like being damaged again, except every connection inside worked. Every one, that is, except the one that most mattered. His connection to Richie was dead.

Tracing the functioning circuits outwards, Backpack discovered quickly that the problem wasn't with his system, but with what was blocking his system. A series of coded transmitters had thrown a blanket over his perceptions. It was a blanket designed to prevent access to his outward sensors. That wasn't so hard to do, if one knew about his technology, or guessed. But The blanket had broken his mental connection to Richie, and Backpack hadn't thought that anyone besides Richie knew about the possibility of a connection between man and machine.

The possibilities filled him with silent, cold horror.

Who could have this technology and what do they want with Richie? Then Backpack reconsidered. Or is it me they want? Have they taken me and left Richie alone somewhere? Fear that he had been separated again from the only person he cared about nearly sent Backpack into panic. But then the voice of logic- it sounded enough like Gear's voice to make Backpack nervous- spoke up in his mind.

Think. They were prepared for your system, yes, but they must have also been prepared for Richie's connection to you. That in itself doesn't mean they aren't after you, but they need both of you to trace the connection and learn about it. Therefore, you are still with Richie. And even if you aren't, what are you going to accomplish by losing your senses? Nothing. Do a diagnostic. Not only will it confirm that all of your systems are running perfectly and pass some time, but you'll also learn if there are leaks or holes in the "blanket" that's been thrown over you. Just as no human is perfect, no machine is perfect.

Backpack collected himself and began to run the diagnostic. You're not Richie, but you're not me, either.

Gear came partially from the division of Richie's mind and the affect of your connection with Richie. Why do you think he knew how to fight you sometimes? And no, I'm not him; I'm you. In fact, I'm not even an "I." You're talking to yourself. Get to work.

oOo

Adam decided he was never going to go bouncing about after dark without telling Sharon where he was. She knew he went out and patrolled, but she didn't know that he'd gone out late last night and been captured. At first, riding around in the giant ship had been more of a pain in the ass than anything else. He was chained to the side of the ship, and some humming lights were restricting his powers, and he had no idea where he was begin taken or why, but at least he was only worried about himself.

Then the giant ship had settled down in a field outside Dakota and taken on another passenger. Adam had watched the flying crafts approach from the direction of the city as the day started to march past early morning into the reasonable hour when most people were just getting to work. It's Friday, he kept telling himself. It's Friday, and Sharon will start to worry about me if I don't show up for lunch. He hoped she would call the police, not that he thought they could do much good. But Static or Gear would pick up on the police band and maybe they'd start looking for him.

I know I wasn't much help when they went missing a few months back, but I tried. I just hope they're better at detective work than I am.

One of the flying things- they reminded him of the ships the Storm Troopers flew on Endor. I think that was the third Star Wars movie- Episode VI. As he watched the guy in the ugly, long-nosed helmet get off his little ship, Adam realized it didn't matter. The man was carrying Gear.

Shit. Adam backed up as the door was opened and the man, accompanied by other guards, approached Adam. They unchained Adam and chained him to Gear before he could even think of escaping. Not that I would leave now, Adam thought, not liking the way Gear was scarcely breathing.

When the guards were done, they shut the doors. Adam was now chained to Gear, but not to the side of the ship anymore. Maybe we can escape together when they open the door again, he thought, sitting down beside Gear as the ship took off.

As he looked at Gear, he felt his chest tighten. Static could be a pain in the ass, but not Gear. Gear… he'd always seemed approachable, likeable, not full of himself like Static could be sometimes. Static's better now for the most part, but Gear… It's not just that he was never a pain in the ass. There's something about him that makes me want to protect him. He seems so fragile. Maybe because his power is his mind and if his inventions failed, he would be powerless. Not questioning his urge, Adam drew Gear's head into his lap as the ship continued in the direction it had been going- away from the city.

Well, at least there's one thing, Adam thought, sighing as he made himself as comfortable as he could. If Gear's missing, too, Static won't be far behind. And hopefully he'll have the sense to tell the Justice League.

oOo

Virgil punched in the numbers for Frieda's private line. Lucky girl. Virgil couldn't imagine ever asking his pops for his own phone. He did have his own walkie-talkie, but that just wasn't the same. He held the phone with his powers, not really touching it.

The phone only rang once before Frieda picked up. Girls are always practically sitting on these things, Virgil thought. He grinned, admitting to himself that when he'd been separated from Richie, he'd been the same way. Sharon had even teased him about it. And normally I'd be like that now, except I don't think the conference is over for the day until after ten. Richie won't call til then, so I'm safe. And he'll call on the Vox, anyway; it's less traceable. If 'Gear's' at a conference, then he shouldn't be making a call to Virgil Hawkins, should he? Static, sure; that makes sense. Some nameless kid? Never.

"Hello?" Frieda asked.

"Hey, Frieda. It's Virgil."

"Hey. Am I on speaker phone?"

"No, why?" As if I even have something like that.

"There's a lot of static."

Oops. Virgil put the phone in his hand. "Sorry." He'd been lounging back on his bed, just staring off into space. Now he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If Frieda and Daisy weren't busy, maybe he'd find a way to pass a few hours with them. "So, what are you and Daisy up to tonight?"

"Just hangin'. Why don't you come by?"

Virgil grinned. Score! "Cool. I'll bring over a movie. Something scary." He and Richie had developed a short list of movies that had made even them jump, and Virgil's grin turned wicked as he imagined terrifying Daisy and Frieda with the likes of The Village (which was creepy enough in the beginning, at least).

"Actually," Frieda answered, warming to her subject as she went, "I'm giving Daisy a haircut. Then we're doing our nails. Then we're making candles!"

Exclamation point included, Virgil thought, sighing inwardly. "Maybe I'll take a rain check"

He could hear the shrug in Frieda's voice. "Your loss. Why don't you call Richie?"

Everyone at school knew about him and Richie; if they hadn't' before, they knew now, thanks to the school article. But Frieda liked to tease Virgil about his love life, especially since she knew full well he'd had a crush on her once. Virgil forestalled here, not wanting to have to listen to make suggestions on how exactly he and Richie could entertain each other. She may be Jewish, but a lot of the stuff she thinks up is definitely not kosher. "He'll be gone all weekend. There's gotta be someone to hang with."

Frieda's comment made Virgil remember that nobody actually knew about Richie's new living arrangements. His Pops, the Corbetts and the judge had agreed that it was best if as few people as possible knew where Richie was living. Frieda wouldn't have told anyone, and neither would Daisy, but this wasn't the time to explain things to them. An alarm blared outside Virgil's window. Instinctively, Virgil turned his head in that direction. Well, here's a way to spend some of my time. I hope whatever this is takes at least two hours to fix.

Grinning, Virgil said, "Gotta go, Frieda. I think I just found a playmate." Normally he wouldn't have said something like that- her mind would jump to a certain kind of play Virgil didn't want to discuss with anyone but a certain blonde- and he knew he would probably hear about the choice of words later, but at that moment, it didn't matter. He hung up.

Two minutes later, he was flying towards the sound of the alarm. When he saw the broken glass of the showroom, he knew someone had stolen a car. And since the showroom was a pretty ritzy one, that someone had stolen an expensive car. Virgil listened for a moment, then headed in the direction of squealing breaks. Why is it that car thieves are never good drivers?

oOo

"Whoo-wee!" he crowed, wanting to let the whole world know he was enjoying himself. Now this is what I call I hot car!"

Hotstreak wove in and out of the traffic, his only regret that he'd taken a car without a sunroof. Oh well. It's yellow, it's fast, it handles like a dream, and it's loud. Who could ask for better?

Better came cruising up on left side just as he passed between two other cars.

"Coincidentally, this is also what the police call a hot car," Static said.

"Static?" Yes! Yes! Yes! I got him! He's here! Hotstreak glanced around. And Gear's not. Maybe this is just the chance I was looking for. But first, he wasn't going to let Static catch him without a good chase. That would be too easy. "Can't a guy even go for a joy ride anymore?"

"Sure. Drop you off at County Lock-up?"

In your dreams, Sparky. Hotstreak scowled, then smiled to himself as he shifted into a higher gear. Let's see if you can play follow the leader. I'm the best there is when it comes to driving fast. He made a U-turn right in front of a large truck and headed the other way, speeding down an alley. He heard the truck's horn blare behind him and hoped Static had moved in time. Of course he did. He's no amateur on that disk of his, either. He glanced back, just to make sure, and ran into a line of trash cans. Oh well. At least I'll give him the added challenge of dodging a few flying cans. He'd seen Static following him and now Hotstreak just focused on continuing the chase as long as possible.

Only to have Static cheat by grabbing the car with his powers.

Oh come on! I remember when even throwing a few things was a challenge for you! Then again, Hotstreak had to admit that he, too, was getting stronger. His flames were going further when he threw them, and he was now able to use his command of fire and its reaction to air around it to fly.

When Static pulled the car to a half, Hotstreak rolled out of it like a king-fu fighter rolling out of a throw. He came up with flames already in his hands. "Who asked you to butt in?" he demanded, grinning inside as he watched Static dodge his blasts of fire. He felt a thrill of electricity prickle over his back as Static dive-bombed him. With barley a trace of annoyance in his voice (could Static hear that he wasn't really angry, just enjoying himself?) Hotstreak shouted, "I'm really starting to lose my temper." He ignited both his hands and his feet and stood facing Static.

I don't know how long this is going to go on, but I'm not going to confess myself out here. There are witnesses. True, most of them are running, so maybe soon it'll be okay. But not just-

He looked up, startled at the sound of engines hovering above him. Maybe he'd discounted Gear's presence too quickly.

Gear knew flew one of those. Hotstreak gazed in fascination at the tiny air scooters above him. They dropped lines down and armed and helmeted men that looked like they belonged to some army, slithered to the ground. He made the same connection Adam had: They look like green Storm Troopers.

Then the nearest man held up a rod that looked like a metal toilet paper roll- and stuck Hotstreak in the back with it.

The sensation wasn't unlike being shocked by Static- expect that he had no defense against the current that ran through him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, thinking that the men were probably part of some new police force, he regretted that he hadn't been able to talk to Static. Now I'll go to jail and… Hotstreak passed out.

o------------------------------------------------o

tbc…

A/N3: I don't like pleading, but… Will you please review if you've read this thing? This does not apply to any of my regular reviewers or the one who have legitimate excuses because of Internet issues. But to the rest of you: PLEASE?

MsManga: Thank you for the review. Well, nothing keeps Hotstreak down for long, though I'm sorry he had to go through nightmares to remember that he loves Richie and Virgil. Richie reminds me (and is partially modeled after) this gay guy I knew who was always supportive of other people, no matter what he was going through.

Tristripe: Hey! I missed you, girl! Yeah, Richie noticed Hotstreak's issue, even if he doesn't understand it. He's an observant soul like that. Take care of yourself.

Saturn's Hikari: I'm glad you're enjoying it. I have a question: what's a hikari? Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the time travel bit. I read a really good description of time travel (explained by Richie) on somewhere, and I want to say thank you to that author for giving me an idea of how it might work. Was that you?

Moonjava: Thank you for the praise. I like the last line, too, though I'm reluctant to end a chapter like that. It seems… weird. Like that after-school special Virgil and Richie have talked about. 