Zatanna
Shadowcrest

It did feel good to be home. Her bed, the smell of her things, her books; the familiarity was comforting. The fact that Shadowcrest went out of its way to make her feel better didn't hurt. A meditation circle was set up when she walked through the door, candles burning and the smoke of incense filling the air. She spent the weekend relaxing and trying to clear her mind; meditating twice a day and eating healthy.

Monday was judgment day; the first meeting she would normally attend at the Watchtower was at 7:00 pm. Between not wanting to see Bruce and not wanting to hear about the display Dick had put on, she had resolved not to go...that is, until she received at text on Monday morning advising that the meeting had been moved to 7:30. It was the first she had heard from anyone in the League since she had talked to Barb.

Maybe they want to tell me to my face that I'm off the team.

She finally decided the best option was to go, but not show up until the last moment. The more attention she could avoid, the better. They could vote and she could leave...easy as that. Rip it off like a bandage.

At 7:25, she hopped in the tube.

RECOGNIZE: ZATANNA ZATARA

Two steps from the Zeta tube, she was suddenly hit by a blur and felt like she was being shot across the room.

"Zee! You're back!" Wally's voice broke through her shock as he screeched them to a halt just before they crashed through a cabinet. He had her in a bear hug and started spinning her around.

"Wally...stop...I'm gonna puke," she pleaded.

He stopped the spinning, but kept her in the hug. "You're back!"

"We established that, you dork. What are you doing here?" Wally was usually back on Earth working with the Titans. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him at the Watchtower.

"Helping Barry with some stuff. How was Vegas?" He loosened his grip on her a little so she could breathe.

"Exhausting. Went by in a flash, kid," she mussed his red hair to emphasize her bad joke.

"Hilarious as always, Zee. You missed by birthday," he pouted.

"I know. I'll make it up to you. Just name it."

"Oh, yeah?" He wagged his eyebrows and she punched him in the chest. He was a couple of years younger than her and probably the most flirtatious person she had ever met. It led to more than a few dust ups when she was dating Dick, but it never bothered her; he was harmless and she loved being around him.

"Within reason. Dinner wherever you want and then we'll hang out after and find some trouble to get into, okay?"

"I can live with that. As long as I get a kiss, too. I at least deserve that."

"Fine," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"That was weak, Zee. So weak." He pretended to be hurt by her lack of enthusiasm.

"Meeting's starting." She heard a familiar, gruff voice bark out from the hallway to their left. Bruce turned his eyes away from her as she looked his way.

Was he watching us?

"See you, Wally. Time to play grown up."

"Okay, I'll call you about dinner. Prepare to shell out some cash," he yelled as he entered the Zeta tube.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the meeting room and slipped into a chair in the back corner. She usually sat near Diana, but didn't want to be that close to the front...or Bruce. The updates took the better part of an hour. She hadn't known what had happened with Maroni and was surprised to hear that they had made little headway on tracking him down. The crates were out there in the world with their mysterious contents and no starting point on how to find them. It felt like they were trying to figure out the plot to an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

"Barbara is on patrol, but she said the cars were stripped down to their frames and the detectives found nothing that might help identify the gunmen," Tim said. "Same with what was left of the plane."

"The only thing we can say with any amount of certainty is that Maroni doesn't have the kind of network needed to pull this off," Kate added.

"He could just as easily have been killed in that ambush, so I think whoever orchestrated it was less concerned with saving him and more concerned with making sure he didn't talk." Bruce's brow was furrowed and his jaw was set, clearly upset that he was being stymied.

"Can we determine if he's still in Mexico? If I get close enough, I might be able to find him. Unless they're hiding him in a lead-lined crate, too." Superman seemed just as frustrated.

"We aren't sure. We're not even sure if he's still alive. One of the cops didn't survive his injuries, and there's no way to know how bad Maroni's were when they pulled him out."

Zatanna could tell that he was taking the cop's death personally. She still wanted to scream at him for leaving her behind, but he was probably punishing himself enough. They moved on to other minor disasters around the globe and discussed mundane issues related to Watchtower maintenance. As the meeting was drawing to a close, she felt the walls start to close in around her.

"Any other issues that need to be discussed?" Diana asked.

Waiting for Bruce to speak up, Zatanna tried to shrink into the chair as far as possible. No one spoke.

"Okay, meeting adjourned."

She stayed frozen in her chair while everyone else got up and started to chat. Nothing had happened. It was like she wasn't there at all. Or maybe like she had never left. Diana's voice brought her back to reality and she released the breath she had been holding for over a minute.

"Welcome back, Sister," she said as she embraced her. "I've missed you. Why didn't you sit up front by me?"

"I was the last one in and didn't want to draw attention," she half-lied.

"Late for your first meeting back? Shame on you." Diana smiled and grabbed her arm as they walked to the Zeta tube.

"Almost late, thank you very much. Also known as right on time." She was starting to relax a little now that she had survived and was with her friend.

"Well, you had better be ready, because I plan on calling you to come on my next mission. Traveling has been taking forever without you here," she said, giving her another quick hug and transporting home.

Against her better judgment, Zee cast a quick glance back to the hallway. Bruce was talking to Clark, but caught her gaze just long enough for her stomach to twist into a knot. She jumped into the tube and zapped home.

Next time, just leave.

Shadowcrest
Tuesday

"Sniatruc egnahc ot elprup." Nope. That isn't doing it.
"Sniatruc egnahc ot neerg." Gross. No.
"Sniatruc egnahc ot dlog." Very 1978, Zee.
"Sniatruc egnahc ot kcalb." There. Foolproof.

She officially had far too much time on her hands.

"Htiw etihw srewolf." Better. She would probably change them again the next day.

Her phone dinged somewhere in the redecorating mess she had created.

"Enohp ot em." It flew out from under the couch that she had moved six times and into her hand.

BW 8:05 – You're late

Her heart stopped. Every Tuesday, 8 pm. She had never imagined that this was still going to be a thing after Vegas. She stared at the phone for a solid two minutes (making her 7 minutes late), before she decided to go and get it over with. Avoiding him forever was impossible and she was sick of worrying about it.

At least we'll be in protective gear.

"Tuokrow sehtolc". She stepped into the Zeta tube and, with a buzz, was at the Watchtower.

"Hey, welcome back." Kate turned to look at her from her place at the monitors. "We need to catch up."

"Yeah, let's do lunch this week." And please do not talk about Dick or Bruce or Vegas.

Her head was spinning and she worried she was going to crash into a wall before she made it to the gym. She paused a second at the door before gathering enough courage to walk in. He was on the punching bag, already dripping in sweat. She dropped her jacket and watched him, not sure what to say.

"Get on yours and get to work." He said between quick breaths.

Okay...not weird at all, let's just pretend everything's normal.

After 15 minutes he stopped and waved her to the center of the mat.

"No gear?" Her voice was quieter than she wanted it to be.

"Not tonight. Muay Thai."

"You want to kickbox with no gear." A massive head injury was one way to get her off the team.

"Just stances to start. It takes a long time to learn," his voice sounded perfectly normal, but he still hadn't looked her in the eye. It didn't escape her notice that he was planning on taking a long time teaching her a new type of combat. He stood next to her and held his hands up. She did her best to mimic his poses as he worked his way through the massive index stored in his head. The hour went by quickly, but there was no extra chatter. He described the stances and their purpose, and she mimicked. Over and over. It was like they had started back at the beginning of her training. When they had finished, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"Zatanna?" His voice was lower now and when she turned around, he looked her in the eye for the first time. She didn't like what it did to her heart rate. "Next week, same time?" It was the first time he had actually asked.

"Yeah. I'll be here." She turned quickly and left.

Bruce
Watchtower

She came.

He was sure she wouldn't, and when she walked into the gym, he had almost lost his rhythm on the bag. Not a word since Vegas. He was at least expecting some sort of angry text message about Maroni, but it had been radio silence from both sides. It wasn't the healthiest way to deal with things, but neither was Muay Thai. At least that was something he was comfortable with. She picked the stances up quickly, but had barely spoken. He was used to her making silly jokes that he tried not to laugh at; he missed it. The whole situation made him feel like an awkward teenager, but at least tonight seemed like a step in the right direction. Dick was another story. He hadn't called or come back; clearly he wasn't convinced by Bruce's lie about Vegas. It was something that needed to be fixed, but Bruce had no idea where to start; the truth sure wouldn't help.

"Hey, come take a look at something," Kate said when he returned to the monitoring room. "Tim found this when he searched Maroni's apartment." She handed him a printout of a satellite image of downtown Gotham. It had a series of numbers written at the bottom: 32-13-05.

"A combination?"

"That's what I'm thinking. Probably a storage unit, but there have to be hundreds in downtown Gotham," she replied.

"It's worth looking into. Tell me what you find," he said as he handed the printout back to her.

"Wait, what? You want me to go to every storage unit in downtown Gotham and see if I can open them?"

"Just the ones with combination locks. Take someone with you, if you want. Wally's quick."

"And he talks a lot. Pretty much non-stop," she complained. "Damn it, Bruce, fine. But you owe me."

He grinned at her as he headed to the shower. Turning the faucet on, he kept the water lukewarm. Between the workout and being close to Zatanna, his skin felt overheated. His mind kept going back to the penthouse; the feel of her hands, the taste of her soft skin, the way she would moan and shudder under his touch...the way it felt to be inside her.

Fuck.

He slammed the water to cold and tried to get a grip; "Bruce Wayne" didn't get hung up on women.

Zatanna
Caroline's Diner

"You should have seen the look on his face when he hit him, Zee," Barbara was recounting the tale of Bruce and Dick, which Zee had wanted to avoid.

"Can we change the subject? Please?"

"Come on, you have to be at least a little bit flattered to have two men fighting over you," Kate was just as bad.

"Some fight. Sounds like a couple of cheap shots and a quick retreat. Besides, they're not fighting over me. Dick is way off base." The lie was still intact and she intended to keep it that way.

"Well, I would be flattered. I don't even have one guy fighting over me," Barb complained.

"You would if you'd ever go out. All you do is patrol and monitor and study," she seized on the opportunity to change the subject.

"I go out! I'm out right now, aren't I?" She protested.

"We don't count," Kate replied. "I'm gay and Zee's got two men fighting over her." Ugh. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"Don't ask me that!"

"You don't even remember, do you? Zee, we need to fix this," she got up and moved to sit down next to Barb. "Dating site. Operation 'Find Barbara a Penis' is underway."

"No way! You suck, Kate."

"So do you. In fact, I'll put that on your profile," Kate took a quick picture of Barb's shocked face and let out a wicked laugh. "Perfect cover photo."

The rest of the lunch involved a lot of laughs at the expense of the unsuspecting local men on dating sites. A few had already messaged her wanting to meet; even her shocked face was adorable. Mercifully, the conversation never returned to the Watchtower antics. Once they had laughed until their bodies ached, they bid each other farewell. Zatanna felt like she was floating as she walked to the theater. She had spent so long worrying that she had lost her friends that having them back as if nothing had happened made her feel rejuvenated. Dealing with Bruce and Dick was still a lingering concern, but she was sure it would all blow over. Bruce would go back to being grumpy and aloof and Dick would go back to acting like she didn't exist.

Since when did sex have to be so damn complicated?

"My dear, we didn't expect you back so soon!" Mrs. Brooks greeted her at the theater entrance with a warm hug. "Don't you ever rest?"

"I'm not here to rehearse this time. I left some notes behind before I went to Vegas and came by to grab them. How have things been?"

"Slow. The Monarch Theater is the go-to spot nowadays. We're trying to make some updates to modernize, so watch your step for construction mess."

"You know, I haven't performed in Gotham in ages. Let me know when the remodel is finished and I'll do some shows to celebrate the reopening." Zatanna preferred the smaller theater, anyway.

"Really? You would do that? Thank you so much! It's just the boost we'll need to get some butts in the fancy new seats." Mrs. Brooks hugged her again and left to make the arrangements with her husband.

It was a good thing that she had been warned about the construction, because it was like navigating an obstacle course. From what she could tell, the remodel was going to be beautiful...with modern designs and brighter colors. It might even take care of that musty smell. She finally made her way backstage and headed to the dressing room.

"Shit!" The voice from the table in the back exclaimed. She had come bursting through the door without thinking anyone would be inside.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't know anyone was back here." She was just as startled herself.

The man stood and came closer, extending his hand in greeting.

"No apologies needed. I'm Deon Scott. You're Zatanna Zatara, right?" He had a nice smile and warm brown eyes. She took his hand and smiled back.

"Yes, that's right. Are you a performer here?"

"Architect. I'm the one responsible for the mess you had to climb through to get back here." They were still holding hands.

"It's no trouble. I'm not even supposed to be here," she finally pulled her hand back as she spoke. "I left a few things the last time."

"Oh, yeah. I think I found them. Over here." He walked to the vanity and opened a drawer to pull out her notes. Handing them to her, he smiled again. It was a really great smile. He looked like he was in his mid 20s; tall and slender with mahogany skin.

"Thanks. I'm nothing if not forgetful. How long is this little project of yours going to take?"

"Three more months, maybe four. I've gotten it up to the 1990s, so we still have a few decades to go."

She laughed and nodded, "it was long overdue."

"Here, let me help you get back out. I don't want you breaking your neck trying to find your way through all of this," he offered as he held the door open for her. They weaved their way back out, and he opened the front door for her.

Ah, chivalry isn't dead, after all.

"Thanks," she said, stepping back out into the bright light of the afternoon. "I can't wait to see the finished product."

"Come by anytime and check in. I could use a performer's input," he smiled again and waved goodbye as she headed home. It was nice being around normal people sometimes. They smiled more and weren't constantly looking over their shoulders for danger. Maybe stopping by to give some input wasn't a bad idea; the dressing rooms could sure use an upgrade. She decided to drop in again in a few weeks to see how things were going. Maybe they would have the performance schedule for the reopening performances ready by then, too.

"Hey, Asshole. Wanna come in?" The black cat cast her a hateful glance and went back to sleep on the sidewalk outside of Shadowcrest's gates. "Fine, sleep the ground. I'll sit on the nice, comfy couch and drink all the milk myself." Another hateful glance and he was up and stretching, following her inside. She went to the kitchen and filled his bowl before placing it on the ground and scratching just above his tail.

"That's what I thought." Some pets were easier to name than others. He'd been an asshole when he sneaked into the house the first time. He'd been an asshole when he took over her bed that night, hissing and spitting at her when she tried to shoo him. He'd been an asshole every morning when he would scream at her to wake up and feed him. Asshole. It fit and he answered it as if she were calling him Fluffy or Muffin. She felt like she didn't have much choice but to care for him. If the house let him in, then he was supposed to be there.

"You're definitely no Muffin," she mumbled as she went to the den to relax. She texted Tony her plan to play at the Diamond Theater, and he reluctantly agreed. He knew she wouldn't be getting paid Vegas money for this one. She didn't care. They were her friends and she was going to help in any way she could. Life was getting back to normal. She wasn't even dreading her next trip to the Watchtower.

Sal Maroni
Guadala-fucking-jara

The heat in the shack was stifling and it made the pounding in his head even worse. He didn't know how long he had been there or how long it would be before they finally killed him. There wasn't any point in keeping him alive other than to torture him. He'd squealed everything he could squeal - sang like a damn canary and they were still keeping him there. Once a day they would spray hot water from a hose in his face for five minutes and drop a stale sandwich onto the dirt floor.

Long way from Vegas, Sal.

Heavy footsteps were drawing close and he knew he was in for more questioning and torture. And he knew it was all pointless. Whatever they were keeping him alive for was likely to have very little to actually do with him. They were just having fun at this point.

"How did Batman know you were in Vegas?" The voice asked. Again. For what felt like the thousandth time.

"I sent him a telegram telling him where I was going." Fuck them.

"Funny."

A sharp pain to the left hand and Maroni knew he was bleeding. He wasn't sure what had hit him. So many things had hit him and cut him that he had to look like he'd been through a wood chipper by now.

"Does he know who I am?"

"I don't even know who you are, so how could I tell him?" Same questions. Again.

More pain...burning this time. The black-gloved hand was holding the red hot poker to his leg as he screamed. He could smell his skin melting.

"Just kill me, man. I've told you everything. Just fucking kill me," he begged again for the hundredth time.

"Not yet, Sal. Not yet. You are still of some use to me," the voice said, fading away again.

The Buyer
Guadalajara

Torturing Maroni was getting stale, but he needed to make sure Batman knew exactly how long he was held when he finally found his body. The Bat was annoyingly moral and wouldn't like that he had lost his target only for him to be tortured and mutilated for weeks on end.

"If your goal is to kill him, why are you wasting time tormenting him with Maroni?" His new ally was a willing participant, but did not yet see the big picture.

"It is not just about killing the Bat. It is about luring the whole Justice League to the table. The more passionate their leader is, the more likely they are to come running. Full force and straight to the slaughter."

"I will trust your judgment, then."

"As you should. You have already proved yourself a worthy asset. The plan is in place and the trap has been baited, thanks to you," he lit a cigar and offered one to his ally, who declined. Maroni was still whimpering in the shack, so he walked back toward his car, annoyed by the pathetic sound.

"I'll let you know when Batman has the bait. Please do not call unless necessary," the ally requested.

"Of course, my friend. Have a safe trip home," he replied. He was ready to get inside. Mexico was so hot this time of year.