Zatanna
San Francisco

Two more weeks of Hell. She had canceled her doctor's appointment, knowing that she would get a lecture about her weight and stress. John had called, but she only half listened as he rambled on about finding the right texts and supplies. Her mind was scrambled to the point that she could barely even focus on basic functions. Eat...sleep...meditate. She did them all, but not enough. Most of her time was spent pacing around the house and talking with the voice in her head. Realizing her sanity was slipping away further, she tried to sit down and write out her will and wishes for her baby, but she could only get a few words written at a time before she had to get up and pace again.

Needs a home.

She only knew a few magi who would be willing to take in a child and she couldn't risk calling them in her condition to get their approval. No one else would know how to manage a child learning his powers.

Needs a family.

The Hidden Ones would try to find him...try to isolate him on the island like they did her mother and wanted to do to her.

Can't have him. Needs a home.

The phone sounded an alert and she tried to focus on the screen, but the words weren't making sense. She set it down and resumed her pacing, hoping it wasn't important. After another hour, the doorbell rang and someone started pounding. Fumbling with the locks, she finally opened the door to see John standing with his arms full of various books and religious icons. She threw her arms around him and started sobbing again.

"Long. Gone too long." Her body was shaking as he dropped his things on the floor. He pushed her back and studied her face with a scowl.

"I told you to bloody call if things got worse, Zee," he scolded, pulling her down the hall to the study. "Sit down and don't move. We need to get ready and start before you're too far gone. If you're not already." She nodded and sat down on the floor, rocking back and forth, holding her knees to her chest. "You can sit in a chair, you know."

"Fine here."

He set about getting things arranged in the room as she hummed a song she couldn't remember the words to.

"Alright there?" John asked as he worked, casting a wary glance her way.

"I need you to promise."

"What?"

"You'll get my baby safe if I'm not me after."

"I'm...what?" He furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of her rambling.

"If I can't be mom. Find him a home. He needs a home."

"He'll have one with you. We're gonna get you through this just fine." His voice didn't sound very confident.

"Promise, John," she said, trying to glare at him through the tears in her eyes.

"Promise. He'll have a home." He threw his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up. "Are you ready?"

No.

"Yes." She stood and walked to the circle of runes he had created. It wasn't a pattern she was familiar with, but exorcisms were definitely outside of her wheelhouse of expertise. "What now?"

"You won't like this, but I need to bind you and...gag you."

Her heart was already racing, but somehow managed to pick up even more speed. There weren't a lot of things in life that scared her, but being completely incapacitated...especially after her experience in the warehouse...was a terrifying thought.

"Have to?"

"Yeah, have to. You'll kill me before I get two words out if I don't. It's just me, love, you're safe."

Despite her reluctance, she knew it was necessary, so she nodded and laid down in the circle. John slowly started to bind her hands and feet.

"Can you still cast your protection spell for the baby like this?"

"Yes. Kept it simple."

"Okay. I did some studying to make this as precise as I can, so we should be giving him as much protection as possible." When he was finished securing her, he brushed her hair back from her face and nodded. "Go ahead."

"Tcetorp ym nos morf mrah." Running it through in her head, she felt confident that she had gotten it correct. It was a spell she had been practicing since Constantine had left. "Ready."

Please be okay, little boy.

John lifted her head and wrapped the gag around, taking away her ability to defend herself. She could feel the tears running down her face when he finished and walked outside of the circle.

"Brace yourself, love. It's about to get rough." He raised his hands in front of him and a glow started to appear. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanic potestas, omnis infernalis adversarii, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu."

A flash of light engulfed her before she blacked out.

Batman
Batcave

Two weeks and no more victims. It was hard to feel at ease, but after weeks on end of the same pattern, any break was a welcome change. With a little room to breathe, Batman had taken the opportunity to catch up on getting the crime families back under control. The city was safer, but the killer was still on the loose.

"Hey, boss," Kate said when he returned from patrol.

"Hey. Figured you'd be monitoring from the Watchtower." He went and stood next to her at the monitors.

"I was, but Victor wanted to use the computer for software upgrades. I decided coming back here would be easier than arguing with him for screen time." Casting a glance at her, he nodded. They thought they were being clever, but he could tell the family was taking shifts in the Cave to keep an eye on him. "Why don't you go sleep?"

"You're in my chair."

"Sleep in a bed. That's what people do," she said, not looking at him and not surrendering his sleeping spot.

"I have some work to do first. Did Tim submit his report yet?"

"Yes. Just the usual stuff. Nothing on the killer. Go sleep."

"Kate?" She finally looked over at him. "Why are you still here?"

"Running some tests on..."

"Nope. Try again."

With a huff, she pushed back from the desk and stood. "The killer's taking a break, maybe you should, too."

"So he can feel comfortable again? No way."

"You're impossible, you know that, right?"

"I might have heard that before," he said. "Find the killer for me and I'll be all better, Kate."

"Oh, is that all? Well, why didn't you say something sooner? I'll get right on it." Rolling her eyes, she walked toward the exit. "Sleep, please?"

"Won't even set my alarm. Promise," he said with a tight grin and crossing his heart.

"Alfred will tell me if you don't sleep."

Once she left, Alfred quickly followed with breakfast. He scrolled through Tim's report ande ate, glad to see that things were calming down across Gotham. If they could just find the killer, he felt like he could finally try to appeal to Zatanna to return again. Shutting things down, he let his head drop back in the chair. Bed still wasn't an option, but he decided not to lie to Kate and left his alarm off; he couldn't sleep more than a few hours at a time lately, anyway. Just as he was about to doze off, he heard a noise behind him.

"Do you think he's really done or he is just playing us for fools?" Selina's voice brought him back around. He stayed facing the computers, rubbing his eyes and wishing he had been able to fully fall asleep.

"I don't think he's done. Maybe he's feeling the squeeze from our hunting. Maybe he's trying to lull us to sleep. Hell, he might be on vacation in the Bahamas."

"Lucky him," she said, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I could use some time away, myself."

"Selina..."

"You're so tense, Bruce," she said, running her hands across his chest and back up to his shoulders to massage them. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the feeling, but his muscles weren't able to relax. "Do you ever rest anymore?"

"I was trying to," he said quietly.

"I can help." Her lips were suddenly on his neck, kissing gently upward to his ear. Her mouth was soft, breath warm. "Let me help. I know she left you."

His mind lurched back to life with the words and he took her hands and stood slowly. "Stop."

A flash of pain crossed her face and she took a step back, letting her hands fall to her side. "Don't you still care about me Bruce?"

"Of course I do. You know I do."

"Do you still have feelings for me?"

He sighed and leaned back against the desk. "Yes."

Walking forward, she put her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. "Then let me help you."

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "You'll always mean so much to me, Selina, but I can't. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you."

Her body tensed and she pulled away from him. "You're doing a damn good job of it, anyway. I know we didn't leave things on good terms, but..."

"I love her, Selina." Bandaid...rip it off. Tears were running down her face as she looked at the floor. "I could still use your help on this case, if you're willing. As a friend and ally."

"Don't do that," she snapped. "Don't pander to me to try to make this better." She turned and walked toward the elevator.

"I'm not. You put me on the last victim. If you hear anything..."

"I'll call the damn police."

Zatanna
Not too sure

Any second now.

The darkness was impenetrable and she'd never heard so much silence before in her life. She waited, expecting the pain and screaming to start as Constantine ripped the demon from her mind. And she waited.

Still waiting.

The silence and darkness stretched on, and she began to worry that something had gone wrong with the process. Trying to focus, she let her mind reach out and sense what was around her. She wasn't in her house anymore. As far as she could tell, she wasn't anywhere.

"Thgil."

A glowing orb appeared in her hand and lit the area around her. She was in a large room with antique furniture. The room was familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she recognized it from.

"Rethgirb." Light spread to the rest of the room, fully illuminating the area. Looking around, Zatanna felt a wave of horror when she realized she was standing in Baron Winter's house.

"Hello, daughter." Her father smiled at her from his chair at the table...the table where he died.

"No. No, I can't relive this. I can't!" She ran to the door and tried to open it, but the handle didn't turn.

"Zatanna, calm down. It's okay," his voice was calm and quiet behind her, but she refused to turn and look, sure that she would find him in flames again.

"Let me out. Tel em tuo!" She beat on the door as she screamed, but her voice just echoed in the quiet room. Hands were suddenly on her shoulders and she turned to see her father smiling down at her. Not in flames. Not dying.

"See? I told you, it's okay," he said softly, leading her back toward the table. Terror was still choking her, but she knew there was no way out.

This is my Hell.

"Please, I can't do this again."

"You won't. This isn't some sort of torture chamber, Zebra," he said, using the nickname she hadn't heard since she was a child. "I'm just here to keep you company while you wait."

"Wait for what?" The screaming? The pain?

"For Constantine to finish. You know, I always thought I was doing a pretty okay job in raising you, but I never realized how right I was until now."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Daddy."

He smiled again and sat back down at the table. She sat next to him, nervously looking around the room.

"You spent the last two weeks throwing up so many mental barriers that you trapped yourself in a corner. I never considered mind wards as an option for keeping demons at bay."

"I'm not really following." It had nothing to do with her warped mind this time. She felt clear-headed for the first time in weeks.

"You're hiding in this memory. The most repressed memory you have. You never come here except in your darkest nightmares."

Looking around the room, she realized the repression of the memory was likely why it took her a few moments to recognize where she was. Even in her dreams, the scene was usually restricted to the burning visage of her father.

"I wasn't trying to forget, Daddy. I just..."

"Oh, sweetheart, I know that. You think of me often – of happier times. That's what I want you to remember. Not this place...that night."

She sighed and looked down at his hands holding hers. "You're not really here, are you?"

"In a way. I'm your memory of me and that's as real as anything, I suppose. Memories are all we have when it comes down to it." She could feel him studying her as she sat and stared across the empty table. "You still blame yourself for my death."

"If I hadn't insisted on coming here, you'd still be alive. Or if you had just let me burn, like I was supposed to."

"Do you think any father would let their child take on a beast alone or burn alive if they had the power to stop it?"

"I shouldn't have even been here."

"Did you think you were doing the right thing?" She nodded again, not looking him in the eyes. "Because that's what I taught you to do. You can't keep torturing yourself over my death. You can't let it rule your life."

"Dad, all I ever did was cause you trouble."

"All you ever did was bring me joy, child. Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"I love you too," she whispered. "I wish you could meet your grandson. You'd actually know how to raise him."

"Hardly. I raised a headstrong half-magi girl. You'll be raising a quarter magi, quarter Batman little boy. I'm too old for that kind of nonsense," he laughed.

"He needs a father figure."

"That's very true. Have you considered...I don't know...the father?" Knew I got that sarcastic tone from somewhere.

She shook her head and stood to pace around the room. "He doesn't want to be a part of this."

"Did he say that?"

"He didn't say anything."

"You know what I did when your mother told me she was pregnant? I stared at the wall for two hours. I was in the middle of a world tour. We had just gotten married. I had no idea how I was supposed to raise a child in the middle of all of that and I was terrified."

"Two hours. Not three weeks."

"True, not three weeks," he said. "But I didn't live quite the same life that Bruce does. He puts me to shame on theatrics and I'm a stage magician!"

"You also weren't still in love with your ex," she mumbled, still pacing around the room, wondering how long the calm respite would last.

"Is that something you know or something you fear?"

"He's working with her."

"And you're lying in a room at the complete mercy of John Constantine."

Her pacing suddenly stopped and she looked back at her father, who had a very smug look on his face. "Shut up, you're not even real."

He laughed – a sound that she hadn't heard in so long that it caused her heart to ache. "I'm not, which means all of this is coming from your own head. How's that for psychology?"

"I always hated psychology and you always made me study it. Putting people into neat little mental piles as if any two are actually the same."

"You didn't really read much of it, did you?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Skimmed it and went back to the magic stuff. I never claimed to be a good student." As she finished her sentence, the walls began to shake and a rumble passed through the quiet room. She braced herself against the table as a wave of terror ran through her. Over the sound, she could hear Constantine still chanting; his voice sounded miles away. "I'm scared, Daddy," she said as the sounds faded into the distance again.

"Life's scary. That's why I trained you as hard as I did."

"Not to knock your parenting skills, but this isn't exactly what I was trained for. I'm terrified I won't wake up or if I do I won't be sane. I'm terrified of raising a child."

He finally stood and leaned next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and hugging her. She breathed in the familiar smell of his cologne – same as it was when she was a child. "Welcome to adulthood. No parent is ever ready to raise a child. They do their best and hope and pray a lot."

"I haven't prayed since I was a little girl," she chuckled.

"Never too late to start back. He's more forgiving than little Italian girls with attitudes."

She gave him a glare and sighed. "Funny as ever, Dad."

Laughing again, he let go of her shoulders and stepped away from the table. "I have to go soon, sweetheart. He's almost finished up."

"Wait, just like that? No screaming or writhing in pain or head spinning around?" She had a hard time believing that she was going to get off the hook without a fair amount of torture, and had assumed the whole conversation was a lead in to the main show.

"Well, I can't speak to what your body's been doing, and ignorance is probably bliss there, but yeah...just like that." Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her arms. "Take care of yourself, Zebra. And take care of my grandson. He couldn't have asked for a better mother."

When he stepped away again, the room started to fade. She could hear John, this time speaking her name. Trying to shake away the memory of her father, she focused on the voice, hoping she could move towards it. After what felt like an hour of mental searching, the voice finally started to grow louder. At the same time, she started to feel pain in her arms and legs. She was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. It felt like her muscles were on fire.

"Zee. Come on, love, wake up. Zatanna?"

She cracked her eyes open just enough to see Constantine's face hovering over hers. He sighed with relief and plopped down on the floor next to her. Her bindings were already gone and her gag was removed.

"Is it over?" She asked warily.

"Yup. Sorry it took so long. Leave it to you to find the nastiest fucker in all of Hell to give quarter to. Did you hear the shit he called me on his way out the house? Mean bastard."

"How long was it?"

"Two and a half days, give or take. Oh, speaking of..." He reached over and grabbed a plate with a sandwich on it and opened a half gallon of milk. "Peanut butter and jelly. Cooked it myself."

"Thanks," she said, taking a bite of the sandwich and drinking the milk from the carton. Looking at her wrists, she could see the deep bruises where she had been fighting against her restraints. Clearly, the war for her body was more vicious than the war for her mind. What felt like a couple of hours to her had been over two days. Placing her hand on her stomach, she closed her eyes and concentrated. After several seconds, she smiled when she felt the tiny heartbeat.

"Baby's alright?" Constantine asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"He's fine. Thank you, John. I can't thank you enough for this."

He smirked at her and stood, searching his pockets and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "It was my mess to fix. You'd have never been in Hell to start with if it weren't for me." Picking up his coat, he headed toward the door. "Get some rest. I need some myself. You flying me back to London tomorrow?"

She nodded and stood, leaning on a nearby bookshelf for support. "Late afternoon? I imagine you'll be sleeping in pretty late."

"Maybe make it the day after. My head is bloody pounding."

"Okay, the hotel room's yours until you check out." She walked over to him and put her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, John. Let me know if there's anything you need."

"Could name the kid after me," he said as she stepped away.

"Limey Bastard, it is," she said with a smile. He laughed and stepped outside, promptly lighting a cigarette as she closed the door behind him.

Zatanna headed toward the bedroom, muscles burning during the climb up the stairs. Per usual, Asshole flung himself at her face as soon as she opened the door.

"You're seriously going to hurt me one day, cat," she said, catching him just shy of crashing into her. She showered, ready to rid herself of the sticky sweat covering her body that hinted at the nightmare she had unwittingly endured. When she finished and laid down, the cat was immediately on her stomach, chattering away at his new best friend...likely telling the harrowing tale of being locked in a bedroom by the evil Zatanna for two whole days. The horror. When he fell asleep purring and the room became quiet, she smiled and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she felt at ease...at peace. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this way, but guessed it was before her father had died. Even though the conversation had essentially been with her own memories of him, it helped clear her head of some of the guilt that had been crushing her. She knew she had to move past it if she was ever going to be a good mother to Limey Bastard. Okay, so that name definitely wasn't going to stick, but she hadn't decided on another one yet. Laying there and dozing off, she finally felt it, creeping up in the pit of her stomach: excitement.