Disclaimers and Useless/Useful Stuff to Know:
Don't own any of these characters. Never will. Wish I did. Major spoilers for "Countdown to Infinite Crisis". Good idea to read the comic first. Also, spoilers for the Question six-issue miniseries.

Warning: The Pool is Contaminated

by Alba Aulbath

"Phew. Fully furnished." Ted let out a low whistle.

Inside of the house was complete; essential furniture and decor were in place to suggest that they'd been at least living there for awhile - even if this was there first time setting foot inside. There was even a vase full of flowers set on the dining table.

The rooms were wide and bigger than any of them were really used to, especially considering how expensive it all was - which wasn't very surprising. Boy billionare Bruce Wayne paid for it all, and then some.

Ted paused in the kitchen, snagging piece of paper that was taped to the refridgerator.

All three of you-
Upstairs are the bedrooms. The middle one has been set up for Ted, the left for Vic, and right for Michael. No personal items have been retrieved yet, but we've set up the rooms to the best of our abilities.

One might appreciate all of the effort that was placed through this transaction. One might have been eternally grateful.

However, in spite of all the work that Batman and Oracle had put through in setting up the home for them, Ted could still taste something bitter in his mouth. Would they bother to go and try to pick through their personal items, whatever was left of them? Ted's home was already burned to the ground, and Booster's apartment had exploded already. Did Vic even have anything personal left?

It felt incredibly offensive, somehow. In spite of all the efforts placed into getting them somewhere safe, he was insulted.

So it was much to his surprise that lightning sparked around his hands and caused the slip of paper to catch on fire.

"Ohm'GodOW!" Ted dropped the burning paper, then grumbled as he stomped his foot over it.

Flight. Superstrength. Lightning.

The scarab had given him everything, on top of being granted life again. He never felt more irritated.

"So you have that, too," the Question remarked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "All three necessary powers."

"Yeah, I'm real flattered." Ted sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Need to learn to control it."

Ted raised a brow. "Okay, look. The first guy who had these powers? He's pretty damned dead. Any other magical fellah, I really don't want to talk to."

"And you shouldn't," the Question agreed darkly. "Lightning chi isn't my forte. But. I can... help." He turned around. "When you're ready to be helped."

"What? So I can learn the oh-so-wonderful art of feng shui, too?"

"Whatever is necessary. Primarily meditation would be your requirement. Powers are often inflicted by emotion. Meditation and going Inside will help. ...But later." Question turned and walked away, presumably to continue exploring the insides of the house.

"Sounds like a real great time," Ted grumbled.

In regards to the Question, it really wasn't that he wasn't grateful to him; for all that he'd done, Blue Beetle felt like he truly owed him, even if he was a frustrating nutjob. However, Ted wasn't looking forward to learning his powers. He wanted to forget about them.

There were different parts as to why he didn't like them. Magic always bothered him. It was strange, and it could do almost anything - even harm Superman. It wasn't normal, and Ted was used to being pretty average - brilliance aside - during his entire life. Maybe wearing tights and riding around in a giant Bug wasn't really typical of the American males, but still. Even if Ted had, regrettably, been depicted as a prankster and not someone to take seriously, his intelligence had been recognized at least even a little by the rest of the superheroing community.

Now that he had powers, did his brilliant mind matter? No one turned to Superman to solve cases. No, that was usually Batman's job, because his was just human and his talents were recognized. No one decided they wanted Wonder Woman to find and disarm a bomb that'd go of in thirty minutes and find the culprit. Not usually. No; those powered heroes were known for their powers. Not for any other skills.

Was Ted going to simply be known as 'the guy who shoots lightning from his hands' now? It grated his nerves. He didn't like it. He loved to flaunt his intelligence and his normal acrobatic skills, not seeing if he could wrestle Lobo in the air and win.

There was a sigh. Ted did have to admit, though; even if he wanted to suppress and forget he had powers, he would have to learn to control them first. And currently, the only teacher available was the Question.

Ted decided that he was going to be blowing up Philadelphia under his guidance.

"I could use that lunch now," he muttered, going for the bag Alfred had given him.

It had been two hours into their arrival in the house. Booster had settled in quickly and decided sleep was in order, and had claimed the sofa. Neither Ted nor the Question objected. Himself, Ted had attempted to find something to keep his mind off of matters, and had decided to spend his time with the shelves of books in the living room.

The Question had gone off to gazing quietly out the window, a frown on his face that was so used to be expressionless.

He watched, watched and could See him approaching.

Him. Him.

He stepped out, concentrating, to confront him.

"You didn't move on," the Question noted.

"It's not yet my time. Not yet."

"Stubborn."

"Yes." He eyed at the Question. "Aren't we both? Men who walk between two worlds."

"We're different. Very different. And besides... you're only in one world now. What do you want from me?"

"Look at me," he laughed. "Look at me. I have no body now. You disposed of it after my death. You, you have such talents in these two worlds. I want that. I'll take it."

"You can try."

"I will do it."

The Question's hands clenched.

"Stay away from here, Psychopomp," the faceless man warned.

"I want nothing to do with them. They'll be safe from me - unless you make this difficult."

"Don't threaten."

"You can't damn me. You can't comdemn me. I'm already comdemned - just not the way you'd like me to be."

The Question leapt wildly at him.

They battled. The Human Enigma threw out his foot, striking his opponent with strength and determination. He blocked and returned the blow. Question tore his fingers into his spirit, chi, very being.

But he laughed and he reached out, grabbing onto the Question's head. "Try not to think too deeply."

Step, step, step-

The Question panicked and drew back.

He held his head, scowling, looking out the window.

"What is it?" Ted asked, frowning.

Watching, Seeing, Psychopomp had already left.

"Nothing," the Question murmured. "Nothing." He turned away from the window quietly, tilting his head to watch Ted.

It would be a requirement, now. Someone had to learn. Ted had to learn.

"Put the book down. Outside. Now." Question gestured to the backyard. "Important."

"Question, we just got here a couple of hours ago. I'm bushed, Booster's exhausted, and while I'm sure you hardly ever take a nap you've gotta be tired, too. I don't really feel like learning magic right now."

The Human Enigma nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"So you understand?"

"Yes. Now get up."

"Look." Ted took in a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't really want anything to do with these powers, sooo-"

"No choice." Question turned his head to look at him. "I only know one form of practice that some call magic. Might help. Otherwise, you're stuck."

"Maybe I wanna be stuck."

"And accidentally break something when you're emotional," he commented drily. "Enhanced strength. Flight. Lightning. Need to control them, Ted."

Ted wanted to be stubborn, and while he definitely was not in the mood for this, the Question was hardly backing down. Though, he did seem... distracted with something. Ever since he was looking out the window so intensely. It brought curiosity along; what had he been looking at?

Standing up reluctantly, Ted followed the Question to the backdoor, but he still decided to play up a conversation. Something had still had him wondering.

"Why've you been sticking around and helping us out? I mean, even from the start... You could have probably left and been better off on your own."

Question hesitated, turning his head aside. "Wanted to. Needed to make people see the truth. No one else could have. ...And."

"And?"

"You don't remember."

Now this was exactly what they had been talking about a day or so ago, and the brunet was still confused. "Remember what?" Ted peered at him.

The detective had that same tone of disappointment in regards to the subject. "Don't remember at all," he murmured, then shrugged. "...Doesn't matter."

"Hey, with the rare expression in your tone of voice, sounds important enough. What is it?"

"Something that happened, sometime ago. It..." The Question's brows narrowed. "If you don't remember, then nothing to say."

Ted rubbed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Uh-huh," he muttered.

When they were outside in the backyard, Ted fully observed it. It was a wide lawn, mowed before their arrival to a point of strange perfection. There was another garden in the back with colorful flowers blossoming in the faint chill of the air, somehow peace-inducing. The Question walked towards the garden quietly, gazing down into it before he sat into the grass, legs folded.

Ted chose to stand behind him.

"Sitting down will help," the Question suggested.

"I'm pretty comfortable standing, thanks."

"Hm." Question nodded, indifferent. "Retreat Inside. What makes you... you. Not your powers, not even your intelligence. Just your essence."

"Okay. What's the definition of 'Ted Kord?'"

"Who do you think you are?"

Ted considered. He'd been asking himself that one since he returned to life. What made him... him?

He knew what didn't. And he knew some things that did.

Not powers or brilliance or wits. Not anything but himself. Technically... he had done it before. He had Seen, on accident, before. And he'd been his own essence, when he was dead.

What was that feeling then? He felt... centered.

Opening his eyes, things were not normal. He'd Seen that before when he was dead. There were brilliant colors, familiar, chi, energy. It was strange. Different.

Turning, he looked and Saw the Question.

Who was faceless.

"You didn't put on your mask when I wasn't looking, did you?" Ted wondered.

"So you can See that truth," the Question mused.

"Explain?"

The Question stood up, folding his arms. "If you were to look at Batman even if he was in normal clothing, you would still See who he is. Batman. It's his soul, his essence, his being. Just... as I am without a face. What people see, with their normal eyes, their simple eyes... that is my mask."

"It doesn't make you any less of your name, though," Ted told him. "But you call yourself the Question because that's who you are?"

"No. I call myself that because I don't know who I am," he murmured.

Blinking a little, Ted winced and lost the Sight, finding himself with a headache. "Oh, good..."

"Not used to it," the Question commented quietly. "But you will be... soon, I hope." Turning, he walked back into the house, hands in his pockets.

It left Ted wondering. When had the Question lost all sense of who he was?

He didn't think on it very long; the headache was pestering him. Grumbling, Ted retreated inside.

For early September, the air was a big rigid, much more than any of them would have liked. It was close to eight o' clock, and though Ted was sure that the Question would never admit to it, it appeared as though the detective was weary himself. There was something on the Human Enigma's mind, though he wasn't willing to express it. Not that it shocked Ted any, but it didn't keep him from being curious.

And maybe, just maybe, he felt as though he should help the Question, with whatever was bothering him. After all, Hub City's vigilante had been willing to help Ted; why not the same in return?

Still, the Question seemed well prepared to avoid both Ted and Booster Gold. It irritated Blue Beetle to no end.

They all had eaten whatever Alfred made for them separately, all on their own and at different times.

The good man had included cheesecake for Ted.

It was eight o' five when the Question had started towards the front door, wearing his coat and fedora, but no sunglasses. Ted had tucked himself away into his bedroom, but Booster had already slept most of the day away to notice the Human Enigma starting for the door.

"Where ya goin'?" Booster made no hesitation to ask.

The Question paused, hand on the doorknob. "Out. Away. To somewhere..." He turned his head.

It somehow hadn't occured to Booster until that moment that the Question looked so tired. Too old to be, what, thirty-five at best?

"Do you even know where you're gonna go?" Booster tilted his head.

"I go where Philadelphia takes me," the Question told him.

"And now for the 'why'?"

Question frowned faintly. "There's someone who stays. There's someone who goes. Though all temporary... what will the middleman do?"

"Let's try to translate that from 'Questionese' to the universal language of 'Make-sense-for-Booster'," the other man suggested.

Sighed, perhaps a little annoyed, the Question attempted to elaborate. "Ted stays because he needs and wants to. I want and need to step out. What will you do?"

Booster Gold considered, glancing upstairs. It seemed better, to him, that he shouldn't bother Beetle. Things were rough for all of them, but there was a silent agreement between him and the Question: Ted had the worst of everything.

And if Ted needed to be by himself for a little while, it should be fine.

"Wouldn't be bad to go fer a walk," Booster told him.

It was always difficult for Booster Gold to talk to the Question. They both had connections to Ted - though what precisely the Question had with Beetle he still wasn't sure about - but it didn't seem enough for either of them to really make efforts to talk to one another. Maybe it didn't matter, but Booster couldn't pester Ted. He couldn't bother him after all he'd been through, and Booster had no idea who else he could turn to about everything.

It left him with the Question, but talking was so difficult when the Human Enigma liked to be confusing.

The silence was even worse.

Wherever they went, Booster wasn't sure. He'd just been following the Question, trying to think of what to talk about.

They eventually left the suburbian area to a staircase made of cement, built on the side of a broad and challenging hill that led to, what Booster assumed was, a park. While they climbed the stairs, Booster made his attempt.

"What should we do while we're here in Philadelphia, anyway?"

The Question shrugged. "Live."

"Wow, that is so elaborate, I don't know what to say."

A pause, and then the Question sighed. "Not sure. Do what we can. For ourselves. For Ted. Yes?"

"Yeah."

Another round of awkward silence, and it was the Question's turn to speak when he stopped in the middle of their stairway climb. "You want something." It was not, ironically, a question.

"Well..." Booster shrugged, biting his lip. "I dunno..."

"About Ted?" The Question turned to him. "Hard to talk to him when helping him. Helping him, but not helping yourself. Hard to balance the two. For the self, for others. Not... 'want', then. A need. Need. You need something." He thought on it, as if it as a troubling riddle.

"I can't talk to him. I mean... Ted's got enough problems, right?" Booster sighed. "I mean, you know. Being dead. Feeling like he can't talk to the JLA. The damned JLA, he can't even talk to, Question. He's pissed at them - so am I. And now we're stuck here, because we're supposed to be kept safe, right? Right. And..."

"Don't talk about Ted's problems. Yours is...?"

"Me?" Booster shook his head. "...I'm just pissed. I can't believe NO ONE listened to him. Nobody! And 'cuz of that, Ted... ...and I still have a hard time thinking that he actually died. What if I lost him forever, you know...? Maybe I would have lost it and things woulda turned out worse - sure. That's possible, but... I don't think I could have actually lived with it..."

"And...?"

"And..." Booster sighed, lowered his head, as in some way he could hide himself. "And... damn it, you know, would have anyone cared that I lost him? Batman, or Superman, or... no, probably not. There'd be 'bigger' things to worry about. That bothers me, too. Nobody would care. It'd just be another 'oh, that's too bad' moment. The feeling would be gone from them after an hour at most. Batman? Probably only a minute, if that. Nobody would have cared about what happened to Ted... or how I'd feel. I don't think they care right now, shoving us away like this. No one."

There was another moment of silence, and it was this time that Booster appreciated it. There was something odd about how his heart felt like it twisted. It wasn't as if it could be logically done by any organ unless it was some kind of illness; it was always the feeling made from an emotion. He felt horrible; he felt betrayed and forgotten by the JLA. By a lot of people. People he assumed as friends.

Assuming fucked a lot of things up.

Booster never had much time before to actually feel the grief that his best friend had died. Though now Ted was alive and he couldn't be more grateful to whatever was the cause of it - the scarab, fate, whatever - it still had an impact. He never had a moment to properly digest it. Anger, mostly, had taken place. Nothing else.

The Question finally told him, "Follow me. Philadelphia calls for two now."

Booster Gold lifted his head, uncertain, but followed the darker man up to the top of the stairs.

Once they finished their climb, it seemed as though the land had split into two different parts. To the left, he could see the black metal gates to a cemetary that suggested they had no business there - or at least he hoped. There was enough death in his life at the moment.

To their right, it was a tiny park. Benches. Flowers, mostly, preparing to wilt for the upcoming autumn. Leaves of the trees were already prepared to turn their colors.

"Look at both," the Question told him. "What could have been. Life or death." He turned to look at the cemetary. "Both in life, are life and death. The start, and the finish. How would you be prepared to accept either?"

"Okay, the Questionese thing again-"

"Think about his death," the Question told him bluntly. "Ted's death. Or maybe Sue. Michelle. Tora. Skeets, if you want. Any of them. That anger. That frustration. That betrayl. And most of all. That. Grief. Accept it, or don't accept it, Michael."

"I..." Booster hesitated, turning his head aside. "But he's alive, why-?"

"Because it happened. There's never a pause to accept it in this world much. 'Oh yes, Superman has died again, how quaint.' 'Oh, the JLA are dead, what else is new?'" The Question narrowed his eyes. "Death. Not so simple. Not so light. Dark. But... part of life. Don't ignore it. Accept, but don't dwell. Or ignore."

It wasn't something he wanted to dwell on - but had he been ignoring it?

"You've been dreaming about it," the Question commented quietly. "You don't sleep well. I watched."

Stupid jerk was...

But it as true. Stupid subconscious.

Booster bit his lip and turned around, looking down the steps with uncertainty. He didn't like to think about it. Honestly, he was an optimist in spite of it all, but-

Ted had died. But Ted was alive.

Death and life - had he ever had a moment to think on it? Maybe not.

Maybe the passing of everyone was catching up to him after all.

Booster lost the strength in his legs to continued to stand; he left his knees scrape against the cement and he struggled with himself. Grief, yes, that was part a little mourning, a little mourning was okay wasn't it? But it didn't mean he had to-

It'd been too late when he started to feel himself choke up.

Kneeling down in front of him, the Question told him quietly, "An expression is not a crime, but celebration."

Booster would have liked to have told him that he was being confusing again, but he said nothing. Reaching out - maybe in some desperation - he grabbed onto the front of the Question's jacket, burying his face against the detective's coat. In some way, maybe to hide himself.

It wasn't an awkward silence, as Booster couldn't keep his cries, however small, quiet. But it was a moment where the Question looked down, having a sense of deja vu, unsure of what he should be doing.

"Dumb jerk," Booster could barely manage out. "You're supposed to be comforting me..."

"Ah...?" The Question still sounded unsure.

Maybe even, heaven forbid, confused.

But when he felt one uncertain arm place itself around his shoulders, Booster figured it ought to do.

The former blonde didn't feel at all ashamed for holding on, and he was fortunate enough that the Question didn't feel like pulling away. At least, not yet.

He felt the Human Enigma tense up suddenly.

"We should go," the Question told him quietly, voice almost trembling.

Booster looked up, confused.

"Better... if we're back at the house," he told him. It didn't seem as though being forced to comfort Booster was bothering him; his eyes were locked on elsewhere, narrowed.

If Booster Gold didn't know any better, he'd have to say that the Question was worried about something. Lifting his head and looking over his shoulder, though, Booster saw nothing.

The Question took his wrist, taking him back to his feet. "Home, now," he told him quietly. "...You. Do you feel better?"

"Huh? ...Yeah, sure. Just... kind of abrupt."

"Sorry," the Question murmured.

Booster could tell he was genuine in the apology.

Still, it seemed that the Question wasn't too crazy to keep from being something like... maybe a friend. Booster wasn't sure yet, but it was heck of a lot more comforting.

He followed the detective home.

"He'd want you to celebrate life."

The Question had arrived home with Booster; the former, however, had waited until the man from the future was settled and distracted by something before turning and swiftly finding his fedora to leave.

He had business to take care of, without Blue and Gold's help. He couldn't possibly risk their lives.

Step, step, step, and was approaching.

Step. Step. Step.

The Question left behind his mask, not willing to risk any sightings by Checkmate. He was smarter than that.

But he had someone to take care of.

Psychopomp was only a being of chi now, much like Ted had been until recently. Unlike Ted in the fact that he was still strong and capable as nothing but a spirit. Taking other bodies. Taking, temporarily, after shoving out their soul. The Question was figuring out how.

And why.

"I See you," he murmured.

Looking. Seeing. The truth, where he was, where Psychopomp was down in the dark, filth of an alleyway.

The Question approached, and so did common men. Common scum, crawling out of their dumpsters, knives and lead pipes and chains in their hands, thinking they could attack him, kill him, mug him, maim him.

It was almost amusing. It was sad, mostly.

Leaping and laughing, so confident, they began the battle.

Moving swiftly, the Question slammed his foot against the neck of one of them, snapping it effeciently. Reaching into his pocket, he curled gloved fingers around the broken watch he kept with him. Turning and avoiding a swing of a pipe, he pulled out the wire of the watch, throwing it around the thug's neck, tightening, strangling him, using him as a shield to the knives and bullets meant for the Question.

Dropping the dead man, the Human Enigma pulled out the fork, stabbing it into a throat. Throwing him to the ground, the Question slammed the heel of his shoe against the handle of the fork, making it go in deeper. Ending the life. Snuffing it own.

Bleed it out.

The Question felt a knife pointed threateningly against his neck; he did not hesitate. Taking out the twisted paperclips, he peered up at the man with the knife.

He stabbed the binded little paperclips into his eye, throwing him off.

"Give me what I deserve, Question."

Step, step, step, and was approaching-

"Hey there." Vic Sage was startled to see someone else. Nobody else cared. What brought him, of all people?

"Do you mind?" Vic shook his head.

A smile. A smile, for him. Nobody smiled at Vic Sage.

"Thanks, I-"

"Get out of my head!" the Question snarled.

He felt a blow to the back of his head, causing him to be disorientated. The Question's wrist was grabbed, and an elbow slammed into his sternum, pinning him against the grease-slicked brick wall.

Seeing, the Question narrowed his eyes. "Psychopomp."

"Hello again. You keep your mind very well locked. It's that one thing that's keeping me out, that one thing you think about so much..."

"You. You want to possess my body by forcing me out." The Question eyed at him. "It won't work."

"No. No, not normally. I'll have to devour your soul to do that."

Psychopomp smiled.

The Question reached into his shoe, a toothpick held between two fingers. Bringing it around, he stabbed it into the man's jugular vein.

It didn't kill him immediately, which allowed Psychopomp to leave the body, letting it go limp.

Turning, the Question could See him still remaining, reaching out, grabbing onto the Human Enigma's head-

"Look, you don't have to blame yourself. I know he's gone. I know that. But... you shouldn't think of his funeral as death. It's more like a celebration of life. Right? Maybe not his... but maybe yours? He'd want you to-"

There was a scream of pain, and the Question was positive it was his own. Tearing away, he threw his chi out, striking out at Psychopomp before he turned away.

"You cannot run from me."

The Question tried anyway.

"You know how strong you are. And how, how I can use that to my advantage."

The Question stopped running, finding himself leaning against a lamppost, holding his head.

"I simply need to break through what's left of you now."

The Question could hear him talking, feel him reaching and clawing and scratching-

"A little thing like a memory can't fight me off for long. You and yours alone isn't enough."

The Question could only run. Run and fight, run and fight, fight or flight-

"I'm close, and getting closer."

He felt compassion before. He felt concern before. Things a faceless man thought he had lost.

Now he felt fear.

It was coming close to eleven o' clock at night the moment when Booster Gold heard the front door open and immediately slam shut. Glancing away from the television screen, he saw the Question leaning against the door, holding his face, breathing heavily.

"Question...?" Booster asked hesitantly.

"Here. Here, coming here, have to..." The Question stepped away, his walk in a stumble. "Away, get..."

"H-hey!" Leaping to his feet, Booster went to the Question's side, catching him before he fell to the floor. "What the hell happened?"

The Human Enigma mumbled, "Tearing, creeping - can't let him... have to end it now..."

"TED!" Booster shouted for the inventor, taking the Question towards the sofa. "Jeez, you're sweating up a storm..." Idly, he checked for a fever; much to his surprise, there wasn't one.

The Question turned his head away. "I See him, I See - he's... have to perish, have to..."

"Who? Please, please try to make sense!"

Reaching up, grabbing onto Booster's shoulders, the Question stared at him intently, body trembling. "Kill me. End me. Now."

There was unspeakable terror in Booster's eyes, wondering and hoping he heard him wrong.

"What's going on now?" Ted grumbled as he came down the stairs. When he came to a stop at the edge of the living room, he frowned. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Booster glanced from Ted to the raving Question, uncertain of what to do.

The Question turned his head, looking at the inventor. "Have to die, have to now. Have to do it or he'll take me. Please, please-"

"What's he talking about!" Ted turned to Booster, who could only shake his head desperately.

"I said I don't know! He's crazier than usual-"

There was a sharp scream from the detective, retracting his hands and curling his fingers into his hair. "Stay away! Not yours-!" There was a sudden stiffness his body, yet he trembled, shortly before his arms went limp and his eyes shut closed.

"Oh God, is he-!" Booster hesitated.

Ted moved in quickly, fingers to the side of the Question's neck. "He's alive, but... I have no idea what happened."

Silence gnawed at them before Booster suggested shakingly, "What if it was something neither of us could normally see...?"

"Excuse me?" Ted peered at him.

"I mean. You know. That... flung choo Question does..."

"Feng shui," the brunet corrected.

"Whatever!" Booster threw up his hands. "What if it was something to do with that!"

Ted frowned. "How likely is that-"

"I don't know! But we couldn't see it. What if it was some dead guy who was pissed with him? I mean, the Question's killed people before..."

Opening his mouth, Ted quickly shut it. Maybe. Maybe it was. "Even if..."

"Look. Look, he was teaching you some of that stuff, right? Can you do anything?"

"I..." Ted hesitated. "Maybe. Look, Booster, we don't even know if that was what it was..."

"We don't know anything! That's my point! This was something he knew, so what else is there?"

"Maybe it..." Ted trailed off, then narrowed his eyes at Booster. It was that look that Booster was good at.

That look.

"I don't wanna do this," Ted told him. Booster didn't waver the look. "I don't. I like being a very normal guy. Maybe a guy who was dead, but I like the normal part. Even if I shoot lightning with my hands and could lift a truck without a problem and fly - I like being normal. I hate this magic gimmick. I don't like it one bit and I don't want to do it."

"So... will you try that frank sway?"

"Feng shui," Ted corrected again. "And yeah, okay..."

The brunet sat himself down by the sofa, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Frankly, he only had one lesson for the day. How could he possibly be capable of doing anything to help the Question?

Still, after everything the Human Enigma had done for both of them, Ted couldn't possibly back down.

The first step was retreating Inside, pulling back into what the Question had called his essence. Made sense enough.

That feeling of being centered, letting the worries be dropped. The anger he carried, the frustration, concern-

Center.

Upon opening his eyes, he could See-

A man was standing over the Question, his hands digging into the faceless man's head. Ted Saw that the Question was in agony, twisting and unable to even scream.

"Holy shit, who the hell-?" Ted was taken aback. So it was someone who was dead. But why... and who was he?

"What is it?" Booster tried to turn his head and see the man, too.

"Someone's... hell, I don't know what he's doing to Question," Ted admitted. "Something to his chi."

Booster frowned. "So...? What should we do?"

"I..." Ted sighed. "Look, I hardly even know what I'm doing with all of this."

"That's more than me, and we gotta do something for him! That's all that matters!"

That was definitely something Ted agreed with.

The inventor frowned. "The Question can go Inside for meditation. But he can go out, too. Out of his body... I guess... maybe, I could do that..."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I have no idea," Ted said, clueless. "But it's worth a shot, right?" He watched Booster, and could tell that he was concerned, biting his lip. Not that Ted could blame him for being worried; the Question, who had come through for both of them, was probably in a lot of trouble with neither of them really knowing how they could help. Ted was going to attempt something without too much of a clue of how he was doing it, against an unknown opponent. If anything, the worst thing was going to be leaving Booster by his lonesome. Still, Ted had to try to promise... "I'm not gonna disappear anytime soon, I promise. And the Question's too stupidly lucky to get killed now."

"Yeah, that part's true," Booster agreed. "You promise to be okay?"

"Definitely."

"Good. Okay..." Booster stepped back, sitting in a chair uneasily. "Um... go for it."

Ted rolled his eyes a little. "Love the support."

"I'm not gonna go out of my way for pompoms and a rhyme for you. Go and save Question's ass."

It'd been a first for awhile, but Ted couldn't help but smile a little.

He went back Inside.

He was still clueless. How was he supposed to force himself out?

Frowning, Ted thought about it. How he felt when he was dead... it was something like that, he supposed. He'd been able to follow Question anywhere then. Not a whole lot, but he could step through anywhere, See things he could.

Center, center.

Ted could See the Question in writhing pain, helpless.

He never remembered the faceless man being helpless before. Even close to death on so many occasions, never did he see him like this.

He reached out, out from his body, out to him.

"You want to stop me?" the man seemed amused, digging his fingers, somehow seeping his being into the Question's living body.

"Who the hell are YOU?" Ted peered at him.

"I've gotten used to Psychopomp."

Ted rolled his eyes. "That's, like... one of the most ridiculous names I've heard since 'Ocean Master'."

"Charming. What do you intend to do, little bug?" Psychopomp had a twisted, amused smile on his face, and there was definitely something empty about him that bothered Ted.

It was then that the Question suddenly moved, reaching out for Ted's wrist. "Unsafe," he hissed at him.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Ted snapped at him.

The Question hesitated, then scowled. "...Help me..." he pleaded quietly.

Pulling on Ted's arm suddenly, the inventor suddenly found himself pulled into the Human Enigma's very chi, feeling, hearing, Seeing-

"He'd want you to celebrate life."

Ted raised a brow. That voice had been-

The brunet found himself on a snowy path, and he was quite positive it wasn't real... even though it felt like reality. The sky was pitch black. Endless. A pit.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find towering formations of question marks strewn about.

Turning, he saw that the Question was lying on the ground in front of him.

"Hey! HEY! Question!" Ted hurried to his side, kneeling down. "Question...?"

"Not strong... not as strong as I thought I was..." The Question sat up slowly, looking at him. He had no face, as Ted was more used to. "This is... me. My mind. Inside. My Inside."

"And what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Question turned his head, pointing. There was a stone staircase, leading up somewhere into the endless sky. "Have to get to the center... my last blockade. See it... if you remember, maybe..."

"Maybe? Remember? ...As usual, you have me confused." Ted shrugged. "So... I go up there, and then...?"

"...If you remember, get to the center, I... have to fight..." The Question turned his head to the side.

Ted frowned a little, then nodded. "Hey. It's my turn to help, right?" Turning, he looked up the steps with a shrug before taking off.

Notes:

ARGH. SO LONG.

And somehow, the last scene feels... lame. Is it just me?