"Come with me," he ordered gruffly, yanking Bart by his collar, away from the cafeteria.
"Woah buddy!" he screeched. "Buddy bud hey c'mon Supes slow down bro!"
He wrestled out of Connor's grip - well he was let out of it - and turned to look up at his kidnapper. Superboy was staring at him; Impulse walked with him towards their unknown destination.
Superboy didn't tell him anything, but he knew by the corridors they were taking where they were going. A few corners away from the rooms he glanced at the other.
"Mission parameters?" he asked, taking his goggle sout of his back pocket.
"What?" Connor replied, looking at him incredulously. "We're not going on a mission. Well we are, but not the usual kind." He started walking again, more slowly this time. "We're visiting Jaime."
"So why didn't ya just say so?" he asked, his words tripping over one another. He made to turn around, his sneaker screeching against the floor. "Want me to go get the others?"
Connor yanked him back by yhe shoulders, Bart yelped. He knew Connor wasn't going to hurt him but he was still caught off guard. Still holding the speedster, Connor turned heel and made his way towards the zeta-beams.
"They're gonna wanna know why we're looking into those thefts," Artemis pointed out, jabbing her chopsticks in Nightwing's direction.
Shrugging, he replied, "Yeah."
She waited for him to continue, to say he had figured out a lie, that he had a plan, something. But he just kept eating from his own white box, managing to not get any grease from the food anywhere but in his mouth.
"Nightwing," she said exasperatedly, making a monumental effort to not clench her teeth and growl. "We have to figure something out."
Shrugging, he replied with a smirk, "Yeah."
She made to stand up, but before she could fully lift her ass from the chair he threw his hands up. "I already figured something out!"
Sitting back down, she looked at him wearily. "You better not be saying that to avoid getting your ass whooped."
He gave her a wounded look. "Me? Never!" Smirking, he pushed himself onto the hind legs of his chair. "It's simple," he told her.
"Would you get on with it Poirot," she huffed. "What is it?"
"Nothing," He replied. "We tell them nothing."
After a beat or two she wasn't sure whether to get up and beat him to a pulp, or give him a cookie. "A lie could cover our collective ass," she began.
"Or it could backfire spectacularly," he finished her thought. "So not lying outright," he admitted.
"Just by omission."
He nodded, silently finishing his now cold meal. He looked up, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses. If Artemis could fidget, he was certain it would look something like this. Or maybe the part about lying had bristled her, rubbed her the wrong way.
She felt his gaze on her quick. Her eyes found his, boring into them. There was a glimmer of something - he couldn't put his finger on it - in her eyes. It really didn't suit the fiery woman he'd grown to be friends with. It... Distabilized him somewhat.
"We're talking about a teammate, our friend, Night- Dick." She implored.
He deflated, loosing all his bravado. "I know Artemis, and I really care for Jaime," he started. It was true, after all he and Cassie had been the ones to recruit him, JAime felt like a younger brother to Nightwing. "But there's really not much we can do without alerting either him or someone else. Lying to any of our teammates is the last thing we need right now; we need to stay close-knit at a time like this," he explained.
"I understand, but-"
He cut her off, shaking his head slowly. "I'm sorry Artemis, there can't be buts; we can't tell anyone."
She jumped out of her chair, sending it flying backwards, and slammed her hans on the table. Her face formed a snarl. "You say we have to be close-knit but we can't even tell each other the truth! For all we know Jaime didn't do anything; he's just as likely to help us find who did! But by lying to him and the team we burn those bridges, Nightwing!"
Panting, her face relaxed as she deflated; her anger replaced by weariness. She remained standing, leaning on the table, hands amidst her fallen lunch.
"You don't want to lose another teammate," Nightwing supplied quietly.
"I don't want to lose anyone anymore," she replied, her face stonewall, her voice a thick whisper.
It was late, it was dark out and he should have been home right now. By all accounts he should have been home. But something had caught his eye; he'd been cursing himself silently as he kept going farther from his house. Maybe that was why he was following the man - keeping in mind Nightwing and Robin's lessons about stealth even though he was chair- bound - because he didn't want to see that look in their eyes. Jaime had grown to hate that look, the "poor baby I can't imagine what you're going through" look. No, they couldn't imagine and he wished they'd stop trying because every attempt was more and more hamfisted and it was starting to rake on his mind that was still working through everything and he couldn't understand why they couldn't see that?
Jaime sighed internally, taking the opportunity in the lull of the man's walkabout to breathe. He was sure he hadn't been spotted; or the man didn't consider him to be a threat. After all, what could a paraplegic teenager do on his own besides scream and call for help?
But you are not on your own, you never are, the scarab chimed in through his thoughts.
Not now, Jaime groaned. I know that, I have an A.I. Stuck to my spine; been there for years now...
You refuse to acknowledge the fact that you have-, it started to say, sounding somehow more matter-of-factly than usual.
"I don't refuse anything!" Jaime interrupted, huffing in a low voice out of reflex.
Cursing himself and that damned piece of alien hardware internally, Jaime looked in the direction of the man. Where the man had been; because now the man was right in front of Jaime. He looked annoyed - not angry, which Jaime found odd - but didn't chew him out or attack him.
"Ya lost kid?" He asked gruffly, his grip on the suitcase he was holding tightening as he loooked around.
Scannings revealed the contents were less than legal; keeping a poker face of an embarrassed teenager, Jaime shook his head, then shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to bother you-"
Something flashed in the man's eyes. It wasn't the dangerous glint he'd expected, but something that irked him infinitely more. "'S fine kid," he interrupted. "Where ya headed?"
What? Jaime hadn't seen that coming. Why would he help him; Jaime was just a normal... Oh, he realized, irritation growing dangerously. The man not only ignored him as a threat; he was pitying Jaime. He neither wanted nor needed that kind of attention, but he didn't lash out.
"Uh, I live in the..." He trailed off in fake contemplation, using his right hand to make lines in an imaginary map. The man waited patiently; Jaime almost felt sorry.
Low-intensity canon, the scarab suggested. Immediately, Jaime's left hand which was hidden by his hoodie pocket, was covered by the weapon.
He started to turn his head, pointing in a direction off somewhere, attracting the man's attention to there; he'd never see the blast coming. One shot and the man was knocked off his feet, the suitcase sent flying; the two hit the pavement in consecutive thuds.
Jaime disposed of the suitcase and left.
She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the entire conversation. Actually she had just wanted to know who was in the room. She'd been looking for Artemis - who was still going to pay for leaving her with all those darn reports to write - and as soon as she had heard her voice, Cassie had been satisfied. Until she understood what had been said.
Tell who nothing? What did she mean lying, to cover what? She decided that ignoring what she heard and leaving immediately might be the best option. Lying wasn't something she enjoyed, but obviously Nightwing and Artemis had meant for this to be private and they would tell her if she really had to know. She turned to float away silently when she heard it.
We're talking about a teammate, our friend Night- Dick. Cassie didn't think she'd ever heard Artemis, of all people, implore someone. Especially not like that; angry and desperate.
She hadn't meant to eavesdrop the entire conversation, but that's exactly what she did.
"That's where he lives right?" Connor demanded, pointing towards the general direction of Jaime's neighbourhood.
Eyebrows knitting in thought, Bart rushed over there and back, quickly nodding. "Sorry had to go check thinking was too slow," he joked, his words tumbling one over the other in their speed.
He nodded, marching in the direction Bart had run off to. His pace wasn't as confident and it was slower; nothing anybody normal would've noticed - except Bart wasn't normal and often a micron would make the difference between life and death. His eyes darted over Connor, silently searching for a reason to the jitteriness.
"Nervous? I know I am what if Jaime doesn't wanna see us or he isn't even there I don't wanna talk to his family I can't make small talk and they wouldn't-"
"Yes, I'm nervous."
"Heh heh yeah I guess that'd make sense considering none of us have spoken with him in," Bart stopped talking, making mental calculations for barely a second. "Two months three weeks four days twenty hours fifteen minutes and twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen-"
Connor put his hand to Bart's mouth. "I get it."
The two kept walking in uneasy silence; put off by Connor's attitude, Bart was trying to keep quiet. They came out of the scrapyard that hid the zeta tubes. Every step brining them closer to Jaime's house made Connor more nervous - seriously, what if he didn't want to see him again - and Bart more anxious.
The two were so focused on walking to their destination they almost missed the body lying in the alleyway. They rushed to the man, who didn't look like he belonged between a dumpster and a graffitied brick wall. As Superboy checked the man for a pulse, he examined the body.
"Hey, he's got a pulse," he called to his friend. "He was shot, but not by bullets; his shirt's singed."
"Something else was destroyed here too," Impulse replied. He knelt down on the dirty pavement, his fingers prodding the carbonized remains of what looked like to be a box with hinges. "Dunno what he was carrying but it looked important."
Superboy had taken to examining the man. He was dressed pretty classy for someone in this part of town; it was too close to the industrial district for anyone's boss to have an office there. He quickly checked the man's pockets for I.D. He hadn't expected to find a gun in the man's trousers.
"Whoever he is, he was expecting company," he said, checking the magazine and chamber of the gun. "Or maybe not; the gun's fully loaded."
Impulse rushed over. "So what now? I mean I should bring him to the hospital but we don't even know anything about him or what or who attacked him and when and why and I really want to know how too."
Finally finding the man's wallet, Superboy took out the man's driving licence and put it in the man's breast pocket. He stuffed the man's wallet back in the same pocket he found it.
"Take him to the hospital, but come back here afterwards. Try to not let anyone see your face too much, I don't want to have to explain to Nightwing again."
Nodding, Impulse picked up the man and ran off in a blur, leaving Connor to wait and think.
The local zeta-beam transporter has been activated, the scarab warned him. Jaime stopped in his tracks, alone on the sidewalk.
"Sending or receiving?" Jaime knew the answer already, but if he was lucky - he wasn't - whoever activated them was just passing through and were already on their way, leaving.
B04 Superboy and B23 Impulse have arrived in El Paso, Texas.
Great, Jaime bemoaned his situation. I can't believe something's actually happening here of all places. It seemed bad luck would just follow him eternally, it didn't matter how fast he ran from his past life; the other shoe would always drop.
My sensors have not noticed any changes, nor have I been able to pick up any situation recquiring the help of heroes over emergency broadcasting stations. It would seem this is a friendly visit, the scarab replied, and if Jaime would have known it less well, he wouldn't have picked up on the smugness.
Friendly visit, his chair-bound ass. He knew there had to be something more; if they had wanted a friendly visit theyd have come sooner. No communications for over two months-
Two months, three weeks, four days, twenty hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen-
Okay, okay! I get it! His point still stood. No communications whatsoever - barely even a text from either party - in that span of stime, and out of the blue a "friendly" visit? Something was up. If not on his end, then theirs; maybe they were embarking on an undercover mission, or they'd be "away" for a while.
"Can you tell me where they are?"
Obviously.
He sighed in exasperation. "Will you?"
Hacking into their cellular phones... They are at the site where we took down the criminal earlier.
Well! he thought. This was going to be a barrel full of monkeys. He quickly took out his own "cellular phone" - seriously hadn't the scarab learned any slang? - and selected Connor's number in his favourites. He rapidly thumbed a message: Hey, scarab told me u jsut landed here. Send.
Now all he had to do was reach home, or somewhere he ought to be at this time. The library closed in a bit less than an hour and was just down the street. That's where he'd head, he decided. A bit of reading would clear his head. He turned his phone on silent as he approached the door and pressed the handicapped button.
He had barely wheeled himself to a random shelf in historical fiction section that his phone vibrated on his lap. Even though the sound was off, it felt unbearably loud against the utter silence of the library. He opened the message, it read: Bart and I are here.
As if Connor had hesitated, another message appeared in the queue: We wanted to talk. Where are you?
It took Jaime a surprising amount of will to reply. Library. Send.
From where they had been standing, and their presumed destination - his house - he knew he had some time to to think. Bart was with Connor, but Jaime had an inkling he wouldn't rush ahead. He couldn't help but wonder if their reason to visit was just as dark as he had initially thought. It didn't seem like Bart, but Connor would do something like that. Maybe they needed his - the scarab's - help with hacking? He knew that the "Bat Family" would sometimes combine their skill to collectively break through an enemie's cyber-defences. If that was the case, he didn't know what he would do.
He was saved from havign to come up with an answer immediately when his phone vibrated. Here. He looked around; they were standing near the door outside. Sighing, he made his way towards them. Every inch closer he got, the more he felt like his wheels where rolling uselessly through sand. He hadn't felt this nervous since he first met them on the team. He finally made it to the door, which Connor was nice enough to hold open, and was nearly pounced on by Bart.
"Hey hermano long time no see it's been way too longI'vebeengettingboredwithoutyoutocausetroublenoonebringschickenwheeziesexceptforNightwingandhealwaysgetsthewrongflavourIstilllikethemthoughbutIthinkhedoesittogetmygoat," he finally paused for a milisecond. "People still say that right 'get my goat'?"
"... What?" He deadpanned. "Bart I barely understood the first half of what you said, slow down!" He didn'T sound as angry as he would've liked. Or at all.
Bart turned to Connor, smiling and motionning wildly towards Jaime. "See what I told you?! He still understands what I'm saying mroe than anyone else on the team!"
"Except Artemis," Connor replied.
"Yeah... Well," Bart's speech slowed down to a human level. "She's had plenty of time to learn."
"I gu-" Connor was interrupted by Jaime.
"So! Why are you guys here, now?" He looked at them. "Like at this time of night? Why not come on a Saturday, or I dunno, just after school?"
Bart sighed, awkwardly raking a hand through his hair. "Dealing with tiem zones is difficult with my attention span. I'm just not too great with time if it's more than a mintue or two." He gave Jaime a smile. "You know that!"
Which is exactly why Jaime managed to beat him in certain video games. Ha, take that super reflexes! He looked at Connor who simply shrugged minutely as if he offered the same excuse as the speedster.
"Any reason for being here?" Did you guys need help?
Connor replied, getting behind Jaime's chair to push him as they walked. "We... missed you." You can help by coming back.
"Yeah, we did," Bart added. "You wouldn't happen to have chicken wheezies, would you?" His stomach growled. Luckily for the speedster, Jaime had some of the tasty snack back home. He always kept a bag in his room, because José would always steal them to give them to a dog he passed on his way to and from work. Jaime swore that dog would die of clogged arteries one day.
He really wanted to say "no" and have their entire conversation here or in the park, where he wouldn't be able to properly see their faces in the dark, but good manners hammered into his head by his mother since early childhood took control and invited them to his place. Besides, it would save Jaime the hassle of having to explain why he was out so late by himself.
"I have some back home," he finally told them.
"OH YEAH! MY MAN!" Bart cried out, putting his hand out for a high five, then a low five, and then somewhere in the middle. Jaime returned it reluctantly. No man ought to be that excited for a snack.
"Connor and Bart left not too long ago," she told him idly checking the backlogs. "Do you think they knew?"
He shook his head minutely. "I don't think so."
It was one of the many - not that he'd amit it - times Dick had no idea what to do. This wasn't a supervillain organization he could set a mole in; and attempt to do that... Jaime would recognize them. Everyone on the team knew each other. Bu they needed info.
"It'd be suspicious to call them back without an emergency," Artemis commented, possibly to herself but still tearing Dick from his thoughts. "Plus we don't actually know why they're there." She made a sound somewhere between a moan and a frustrated sigh. "I hate this."
Don't we all, he wanted to reply. "We need eyes on him," he instead said. "But we can't send a mole."
"And having someone tail him 24/7 would make both him and whoever would be assigned suspicious," she supplied. She'd never expected that - helping - co-managing the team would be this trying. She suppressed a shudder at imagining a single person doing it.
As she thought, Dick poured over the known facts. It was mostly habit; and not a relaxing one either, it would usually frustrate the Bats to not find the answer despite looking so hard and intently for it. He kept looking over the "victims", the methods, the beneficiaries - who had no link between them except for the fact that one or more of their family members were part of some form of low-income help program - and the suspects. Dick knew that there were many profficient crackers and programmers out there; Nightwing knew the unlikelyhood of any of them being the culprit. "This is so fucked."
They both wished for a simple answer, but as always, it wasn't an option. Simplest thing would be to ask him; but the last thing Dick wanted now was to tarnish he and Jaime's friendship even more. He had told the team he wanted no more involvement, and if it turned out he hadn't commited the thefts; he'd be involved. It was the truest example of the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" principle.
"Well- what DO we know?" Tigress asked. "We know money's been stolen-"
"And sent to multiple accounts with no connection except for the economical status of the beneficiaries," Nightwing interrupted.
Oh, Tigress thought. That, she hadn't known; Fuck. "We know only a handful of people and or things could have done it."
"Right."
"And the only suspect we can..." She paused, looking for the right word for her thoughts. "inspect, is our friend who happens to be an ex-teammate and one of the most powerful or dangerous beings on the planet."
"But he's a teddy bear," Dick finished, purposely adding a touch of well-needed humour to the statement. "Look," Nightwing continued. "We tried twisting the facts to fit the theory-"
"Meaning we don't want to believe Jaime did any of this," Tigress cut through.
Nodding, he resumed. "But we really need to twist the theory."
"Okay, Holmes, go arrest one of your best friends," Tigress replied venomously.
"I'm not saying that; if he did do it, we have to consider why and if anyone else was involved." Dick paused. "Maybe if someone else is pulling the strings, and Jaime felt he had no choice..."
"So again, we need eyes on him. I feel like we've talked about this before; you know, like, two minutes ago?"
"Satire aside you're right," Nightwing conceaded. "And if we can't keep surveillance..." A sudden thought occured to him. "Then we'll need compliance!"
There was a beat or two of silence. "Did you really just say that?" Artemis groaned. It was just like Dick to make a rhyming scheme while discussing mission parameters. "So what? We just tell him?"
"No, but close. I think there's one person perfect for the job!" He told her, his trademark smirk back on his face.
"How do you get up the stairs?" Connor asked, taking off his shoes once inside.
Jaime looked at him like he asked if the sky was blue. "I climb?"
"Wait like just climb? How I thought your legs-"
"They don't. I use my arms," Jaime cadually interrupted him.
Connor made a face, but didn't say anything. He knew there were no rooms on the ground floor, only the kitchen, living room and a half-bathroom. He honestly would prefer to carry Jaime - it'd be faster, for one - but he doubted his friend would appreciate that.
"You guys can go first," Jaime told them. "I have to check if my lil' sister packed a lunch for tomorrow."
Jaime had barely finished his first sentence that Bart had run up and down the stairs, flickering for an instant before clearig up again, with a bag of chicken wheezies in his hands. "Oh how's your hermanita?"
"Hyperactive as usual," Jaime answered, wheeling himself to the kitchen. "She wants to take martial arts classes now."
"Ooh cool does she know what kind? What made her wanna do that?"
"We went to see a charity march between Wildcat and a few local fighters." Jaime quickly checked the fridge for Milagro's lunchbox, finding it full with a nice lunch. He closed the fridge. "Ever since then, she's been wanting to start martial arts."
Connor hummed a thoughtful noise. "And you don't mind?"
"I- of course I do," he answered, in a low voice. "But... I just can't tell her no, she needs something to make her own. I have my guitar, she doesn't have anything yet."
No one felt the need to push the "issue" any further. Jaime offered them beverages; Bart took a can of soda, Connor just a glass of water. After they fot installed, an awkward silence took place.
Finally, Connor spoke up. "How's the civilian life?" He bet it felt weird to suddenly have all that time to do his projects, and not have to worry about criminal organizations every few hours.
"It's..." He hesitated, looking for the right word.
Boring, the scarab supplied.
"Relaxed." Not entirely false; his stress levels compared to what they used to be were nothing, but bow he had other things to worry about.
"That's... Good I guess," Bart said, playing with his empty can. "It's been 'relaxed' at the base without you."
Jaime hummed. "I imagine you wanted to catch up? What's good; is Cassie still hopeless in spanish?"
For the first time in a while, Connor smiled. "Not as much, she has the basics down by now. Her accent is horrible though."
"Yep, sounds like her. How's school? And, uh, not going to school?" The last part was for Bart.
"Actually I'm thinking of getting a diploma and then going to college when I'm old enough!" He could pass all the test - as a home schooled student - and then go to a real school where science extended to more than "the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell".
"Really? That's good; I had figured you as someone who would never willingly set foot in a school. Guess you'd want a life outside the hero business at some point."
Bart nodded, tossing his can in the waste basket. "Yeah but that's not why I wanna go I wanna do sciency stuff!"
"And Connor?" He asked his other guest.
"College is... Just as annoying as high school. Everybody procrastinates and almost no one understands. Those who do are usually pompous pricks."
"Not at all like you," Jaime joked. "What are you studying in?"
"For now I'm in a general bachelor's program."
The conversation continued at a lazy pace, each of the three relaxing as it continued. They didn't talk about current events much, understanding that for one it would concern less lethal stuff than for the others, but it was inevitable that the conversation head there eventually. Bart had mentioned it first; he simply had to tell Jaime how he completely nailed Copperhead with this new kick - a variation on a butterfly kick - and sent him sprawling into a tree. From then on, it became a competition: who had the most impressive moves? Connor nearly won with his many feats of freakish strength, his best accomplishment being helping Robin take down Batman and Superman; but in the end Bart took the lead from Jaime - who was winning with him fighting Black Beetle singlehandedly - by closing the last of the Reach's weapon with Flash.
They left soon after, making Jaime promise to stay in touch - "more than one text a month this time!" Connor had joked - and leaving him to his thoughts.
"That's about the lamest thing you could've said," she told him. "Jaime might never even see her, and she won't be tailing him either way so what's the point?"
"Well, it'll build trust. And I'm sure he'll talk to her plenty; he hasn't avoided her every chance he got. She's our best option," Nightwing told her. "That's the point."
It sounded sane, too sane to work. There was still the problem of dealing with any cover story; but she was their - and Jaime's - best bet to have him be innocent. She knew he was, there was no way Jaime of all people could steal; the kid apologized for weeks after accidentally taking Connor's deodorant. She'd fought alongside him, and whether someone was violent or not, fists talked. Jaime would never hit someone while they were down, not would he steal hundreds of thousands - maybe more at this point - even if it was to play Robin Hood.
"Do I call her, or do you?" She finally conceded.
"It's not urgent; I'll just send her a message."
A small holographic screen appeared, on which he started typing: Tigress and I might have a plan for the thefts, meet us at HQ tomorrow. He sent it, a minute amount of stress leaving the room; yet at the same time tension rose. What were they supposed to do now, but wait? Unless on a stake-out - and even then - waiting was neither of their strong suits.
"I'm going to blow off some steam," Artemis announced, her voice showing her wariness of the situation. Shit like this was why she'd left in the first place.
The door closed behind her with a soft thud, not the usual thundering clap she'd produce. Was the gym really the best place to go? No, but Artemis, despite her mental fatigue, needed to take her mind off things. She needed to move (and some distant part of her mind cursed Wally for reinforcing this bad habit of hers). It seemed like she'd only taken a few steps, yet she was already at her destination. Usually the gym would be buzzing with the clatter of demanding fighting; but school and movie nights had made it seem empty tonight.
Admittedly, she hadn't expected Cassandra to be there, pounding halfheartedly on the heavy bag. She didn't look tired, so Artemis surmised she was either very distracted - especially since that was how the girl worked through her problems - or keeping her energy for some other exercise. Whatever the case, Artemis didn't feel like sharing much tonight.
"Weren't you supposed to be on monitor duty?" she demanded.
Cass must've jumped three feet in the air. "Oh! Hey, Artemis... I, uh"
"Was just leaving?"
For a second, the other girl like she was about to agree, but caught herself. "No, actually... I wanted to talk to you about something."
A beat of silence. Cass fidgeted a bit - only a bit - and started nudging the heavy bag.
"Well?" Artemis demanded. What was this about? Couldn't she just spit it out like she always did? Seriously, did she think Artemis would decapitate her?
"Earlier I..." How to say this, she wondered. She didn't want to make it seem like she was purposefully eavesdropping. Her hand hit the heavybag absentmindedly.
If Artemis would be in a better mood, she'd have the patience, but right now..? "Stop. You're making my headache worse. Just- Tell me what's wrong."
Okay, here goes, she tried to psyche herself up. "Artemis," she started, rather awkwardly. "Earlier after you left me with double monitor duty-"
"That's what this is about?"
"Uh," she had to pause; she hadn't thought Artemis would interrupt her. "...Yeah."
"Fine!" She growled, but they both knew she deserved whatever punishment she was going to give herself. "I'll take your next two turns on monitor duty. Happy?"
"Yeah, yeah!" She put on a smile. No, no, this isn't how it was supposed to go you dunce! she berated herself before flying towards the door. "I'll catch you later!"
Artemis was glad. For two reasons actually: first, and foremost, she had the gym to herself; second, Cass hadn't just accepted Artemis leaving her out there. People were usually so easy to step all over. It was refreshing to see someone speak their mind around her.
She marched to the center of the gym, briefly eyeing the bows and arrows haning off the rack on the wall before unsheathing her sword and running through a set of obstacle courses.
Relaxed? the scarab asked when they'd been alone for barely a minute.
What? I couldn't say boring! Jaime replied, throwing hsi hands up in annoyance.
Why not?
Because... Because! Sometimes, you just gotta lie. Had he really just told the scarab that? Yes. Was he proud of that? No, and a toddler could see through Jaime's poor attempt at ending thsi conversation.
Like lying to your family about being Blue Beetle?
...Yeah. He was floored that the scarab made the link. Maybe he understood more about humans than Jaime gave him credit for.
"Come on, let's get to bed," he told the scarab, heading for his lumpy haven
He wrapped himself in a cocoon of sheets and clothes - being too lazy to pull them off the bed - they provied extra warmth, he reasoned with himself. He tossed and turned a bit, having to readjust his legs manually before settling in. He flipped his pillow over. Then flipped it again. He moved it a bit to the left. A bit to the right. Pushed it off to the side, but he couldn't find a comfortable spot. Which was odd, because even though he'D caught up on some hours of sleep, he should still be out like a light. But unrest roiled deep in the crypt of his mind, deep enough that he couldn't put his finger on it, but present enough to keep his mind troubled and awake.
Lying... is bad.The scarab finally broke the silence.
"Yes..." he whispered in the darkness, not really agreeing, but not disagreeing either. Just stating he heard and understood.
But lying to our family... is good. It was a statement, but it was a question.
"No..."
Then... lying to our friends is... bad too.
"Yes..."
But you lied... to all of them. Was that bad too?
"No..."
No?
Silence. "No..."
Why?
"... Because... It helped them..."
Helped them?
"... They didn't..." he struggled to find the right words. "... get hurt..."
You were protecting them.
"... Yes..."
... You are a hero.
"... N-No..t anymore..."
You care..?
Did he really? He left the team... To care for his family. "... Too much..."
You... persevere
"... For my family..."
You... We would go to the depths of hell for them.
"... Yeah..."
"I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." Christopher Reeve.
"I'm not... Strong..."
You are strong enough.
"I'm weak."
You are strong enough to save people.
"...Was..."
You want to be strong..?
"It... doesn't matter anymore..." And as he drifted off to sleep, the scarab replied one last time.
"Nothing on earth can elp the man with the wrong mental attitude." Thomas Jefferson.
His sleep wasn't dreamless as it usually was. Nor was it tumultuous with occasional nightmares. It simply... was. Jaime dreamt, but everything felt like it was truly there. He was simply going about his day. Again. And again. And. Again. It was unbelievably dull. He would 'wake' and go about his daily routine of going to school, working, coming home and doing homework, then having a normal supper before going to bed. Every. Single. Day. Weren't dreams supposed to be lively, meaningful?
When he woke up the next morning, his body felt like lead. It was as if his body and mind had been in a coma, and he'd just woken up.
She marched through the corridor, a tad faster than her normal walking pace, looking at her phone. Her attention was almost fully on her text conversation as she entered the room. It was the same room in which they always met; her "counselling room", with the two comfortable green armchairs in the middle. It was otherwise scarfely furnished.
"I got your message," Canary announced, walking into the room, typing something on her phone, whispering something in spanish before continuing to type slowly. She closed her phone and turned her attention to the two young adults who had summoned her. "You said you had a plan?"
"Nice to see you too," Nightwing replied. "Tigress and I-"
"Just Nightwing," Tigress interrupted.
"Figured since we need eyes on Jaime, and we obviously can't plant a more or tail him," he paused,
"Because he'd find out," Canary supplied.
"So our best bet is to hide in plain sight. Get someone he trusts on the inside; that way he won't be as suspicious." He let that sentence hang in the air. It felt weird to have to do an undercover op on Jaime... Again. Hopefully this time they'd all be on the same side.
"Where do I come in?" Canary snapped him out of his thoughts. She had an inkling of what the plan would be already though.
Artemis looked at Dick. "Yeah," Nightwing cleared his throat. "You'll infiltrate Jaime's school as something inconspicuous, like a counsellor, and get close to him."
She nodded, thinking it over. Jaime and her had already met since his resignation multiple times. She had wanted to get closer to him too, this would provide the perfect excuse. Before she'd agree though, she wanted to be fully prepared.
"What's the cover story?"
Tigress spoke up. "The Queen Foundation offer programs to send counsellors to school who can't afford one; I'm sure Green Arrow wouldn't mind if we organised something."
The kids have this all worked out, Canary thought to herself, remembering the days where Batman and her would pour over mission details to assign roles and objectives. They grew up so fast.
"And is there a cover for Jaime?" It didn't matter if she couldn't convince Jaime she wasn't spying on him, after all.
Dick and Artemis shared a glance. "We're worried about him."
"Hiding a lie in a truth; I see." The best lies was partially true. Jaime'd probably be aggravated, but he shouldn't suspect anything. "Perfect," she told them, taking out her phone. She wrote a quick message to Green Arrow, informing him of the cover story, not that she'd really need his permission.
"Was there anything else?" she asked, putting her phone away.
The spent the manority of the morning discussing the rest of the parameters; when she would integrate herself in the school, how often she should see him, among other things. They shared any other knowledge they might have on the other suspects - which was at this point almost nonexistent - and what teams to assign to what location. Overall, it was a productive morning.
They all left, feeling a bit more like themselves.
The teacher's mindless drivel droned on his mind, digging him a ditch of detestable dejection. Waking up this morning had left him drained and despite his usual ability to pay attention no matter what, he was unable to sit and listen. Staying put in a plastic chair in a stuffy room in a third rate highschool during a beautiful sunny day was driving him up the wall or down the rabbit hole as it was. Being as bored as he was he couldn't even occupy his mind with reading or scribbling or even the ever-constant connection to any kind of wifi thanks to the bug implanted in his spine. He had counted the ceiling tiles - seventy two - at least three times as well as the number of chairs - thirty four with twenty eight occupies - and the number of times the teacher would open a parentheses (which he did every two minutes). But throughout the course of mental torture that this class was one question droned on and on in his mind, hammering away at the last remaining shreds of sanity he had within him and bringing him closer and closer to his safe haven of madness each time it was asked.
Why was he so bored? He couldn't fathom why. Same subject and teacher as always. He liked literature. Mr J was funny. So why was Jaime feeling so antsy? It was like time slowed down. Is this how Bart feels all the time? he asked himself mentally.
Jaime, studious as he was, had never been really bored at school. Even during his "initiation" to the soccer team, he hadn't felt this... Anxious. He felt like he was anticipating something, waiting for something - anything - to happen. But what? Certainly not the release of a game, movie or book; none were coming out for at least a couple of months. There wasn't a special day marked on his calendar anytime soon. Supper tonight was not his favourite. Whatever reason his mind supplied he shot down; they all felt too boring, normal.
"Reyes!" His teacher called. "Feelin' okay boy? You don't look too good."
"Fine, Mr J, just tired I guess."
"Hmph," he didn't look like e believed him, but he returned to his lesson nonetheless.
You are bored, the scarab oh-so-helpfully told him.
What did we say about interrupting class time?
He didn't get a reply, but Jaime knew if the scarab had eyes, they'd be narrowed at him right now.
Ugh, he couldn't believe he still had three periods of this. Despite his best efforts, his imagination and time-wasting strategies - all from Kid Flash and Nightwing's books - Jaime barely made it to the end of the period. Then he nearly missed the assignment.
"Jaime," Mr J waved at him. "I want to talk to you about your assignment."
"Uh, sure, Mr J. I know it was supposed to be hand-written, but-"
"That's not what I want to talk about! I wanted to confratulate you for your amazing work, kid!" He slapped a hand on Jaime's shoulder proudly. "How'd you do it?"
Uh... "I just... Poured my thoughts on the paper, I guess?"
"HAH!" His teacher barked a few laughs. "Well, whatever you did, keep doing it! I'm thinking of giving more assignments like this, or maybe a few bonus exercises... Anyway, there's this contest," he said, handing Jaime a pamphlet. "I really think you should enter it."
"But-"
"Think it over. Now get to class! You're going to be late!"
That had been the most exciting part of his day. The rest had just been background noise to his unending suffering. Lunch had been his usual talk-and-dash with Tye and their other friends; they were on call for "special assignments". Math and gym - hah! As if I still get to do gym - trudged along like a tortoise going uphill while drunk.
Finally school came to an end for the day and he could leave. On a whim he decided to pass by Milagro's school and accompany her home. That was the highlight of his day.
The next day he woke up, and everything started over again: he listened to the teachers' drivel - except for Mr Brown, he was cool - and sat in his chair - like he always did - and tried not to explode just for the sake of something happening. He gave some thought to the contest. He accompanied his little sister home from school. Lather, rinse and painfully repeat.
Today - only wednesday if his mental calendar was still accurate - he wasn't looking forward to. It was a combination of his ex-favourite classes, an amalgation of math, bio and gym. He didn't quite care for the other periods as they weren't music or english. Maybe today he'd stick around after school and play a bit?
It was when he'd gotten to gym that one of the students - Amanda, he thinks - told him the principal wanted to see him. He left when the intercom called for him. It seemed like today was going to be exciting.
It took him only a minute or two to get to the principal's office, it being almost right next to the gym. He wheeled himself through the dirty corridor - dirty because people just dropped papers and wrappers anywhere like animals - and gave the secretariat's door a mighty push before wheeling himself in. Everything looked ordinary; standard plastic-wooden desk and chair, regular file cabinet, usual boring secretary wearing what seemed to be the industry's standard blouse and skirt, typing away at a low-end computer.
They exchanged a few words, formalities and the reason for his visit, and he entered the office. The first thing that struck him was that one of the regular two chairs that would sit in front of the desk was missing; the second thing that struck him was Canary wearing a formal outfit, nevermind that she was sitting in the office like she'd been called in too.
"Ca- Ms Lance," he stuttered, catching himself at the last second.
She raised and eyebrow, smiling. "Mr Reyes," she joked.
The principal looked on, puzzled. "Have you two met before?" He asked hesitantly.
"I've counselled him a few times at a support group," she supplied.
"Ah, very well," he harrumphed. The principal, a stuffy man who talked like he belonged to a politcal debate, went on to explain Jaime why he had been called. "Our school has been chosen by the Queen Foundation for Healthy Minds to be supplied a counsellor, as we've had to terminate ours for reasons we won't go into details. It had come to my attention that you were scheduled to see Mrs Dona due to your... Unfortunate accident."
It took a moment before Jaime realized he was supposed to answer. He'd been too busy mentally laughing at Mrs Dona, who was known for being... Alternative in her methods. "Uh, yeah that's right." Unfortunate accident" he cursed mentally, I'll give you an unfortunate accident.
The man cleared his throat. "Very well. Unless Ms Lance decides otherwise, we will keep your scheduled visits. And do try to come this time," he turned to Dinah. "Is there anything you wished to add?"
"Just that I look forward to helping you again Mr Reyes."
Okay, he admitted to himself, that had been the most exciting part of his day. It occupied his mind until the next morning, at the very least. He kept wondering if maybe she was here on a mission - an undercover op perhaps - and if there was somethig sinister going on at his school. He briefly chastised himself; whatever it was he should've seen it.
Jaime found himself fascinated and intrigued despite his wishes to never be involved with the superhero again. A small part of him admitted he felt relieved that Canary was here, for a multitude of reasons: he finally had a familiar face with him, he could open up to her - being his councellor and all - and he felt like he had backup. He thought it silly, but couldn't shake the familiar feeling of having someone at his back during a mission. Was that what this was to him now; a mission?
If it gets you to tomorrow who cares? He asked himself, dismissing his initial inquiry.
Intent and results are both just as important, the Scarab reminded him. It had been something they had argued about for ages until, after being controlled by the Reach, Jaime had convinced him. Ironic how it was now the scarab who came back with this.
"Maybe," he conceded. "But at this point they're mostly the same."
Just because you canact and think this way, doesn't mean you should.
Jaime dismissed the scarab for now; hating how all of a sudden the AI in his spine grew a conscience. Having a Jiminy Cricket would have been useful when he was actually making morally difficult decisions, not just trying to live his life.
After meeting with Canary, Jaime was allowed to leave early - which was a relief because he hadn't completed his homework for the next class - and he didn't need to be told twice. He left school briskly, intent on getting home and maybe taking a nap for an hour or three.
The trip home was a blur, completed mechanically and efficiently as he wanted to just let the day end. He put the plank flat on the stairs and entered his home. Only, the door was unlocked. Weird, he thought, I'm supposed to be the first one here usually. He steeled himself for a burglar as he quietly finished turning and pushing the door.
He heard no noises that would indicated someone prancing around his house looking for valuables - and every second floorboad creaked when anything walked on it, so he'd hear them - which meant either the burglar was not moving - had they seen Jaime come in? - or they were already gone. He looked into the living room, to find that there indeed was someone who wasn't moving, and wasn't supposed to be home yet. José was sleeping on the couch, the television on mute and a snack or two on the coffee table.
He approached his step-father and hit his foot. José snorted as he was suddenly awoken, his eyes opening to blearily look in Jaime's direction.
"You're early," he rasped, his voice tired.
"So are you," Jaime deadpanned. "Why aren't you at work?" Weeks ago, Jaime might have reconsidered asking this man such a question. Funny how things changed.
José chuckled. "Haven't been to work in a long time," he said, putting the television's volume on a low setting so there'd be background noise.
Jaime's eyes widened in worry. What the hell?! "What! Why not?! We need the money!"
José lifted his hand in a "stop being so loud" motion. He sighed before answering, "No we don't. Your mother makes enough money for the both of us. Must've gotten a raise at work or something." The last part was muttered, as if a last minute explanation.
"Finally, the weekend," he groaned as he stretched, feeling that pull in his muscles. It had been a... charged week to say the least. Jaime found some satisfaction that for the first time in years this didn't involve supervillains.
He'd caught up with Connor and Bart - or they'd caught up with him - and therefore the team; and now he had a superhero posing as his school councellor, possibly investigating something. Speaking of investigations...
"I thought you worked on Saturdays," he asked, wheeling himself to the fridge.
"Not anymore," she replied, taking a gulp of coffee.
... What? "Uh, okay then. Should I- do I have to go look for work?"
"Hm? No, no, mijo. I'm taking satutdays off now." She started to get up. "Let me make you something. How was your week? We've barely talked lately, it's no good to ignore your parents you know. After all we do and you won't even talk to your poor old mother."
It took Jaime a moment to process everything his mother said. "Hey! We talk almost every day Mama!"
"Sé, sé," she teased. She was at the oven, preparing Jaime's breakfast. He was already salivating thinking about it; he was getting tired of carboard-flavoured cereal. "But tell me! Anything interesting happen to my mijo?"
He harrumphed good-naturedly, answering, "Well my english teacher thinks I should participate in this writing contest, but I don-"
"Oh, yes you will!"
"I'll make sure to tell Mr j," he deadpanned. "Other than that, nothing much happened. School got a new councellor; it's someone you've met before."
"Oh really?" She asked, stepping away from the oven, genuine interest in her features.
Jaime chuckled. "Not sure if you'll remember her, you two only talked once." He paused, reliving that night, "Remeber when me and Milagro-"
"Milagro and I."
"Milagro and I went to the fight?" It had been a while ago, but Jaime doubted even his mother would forget.
"Yes?"
"The people who were with us when we came back; the blonde woman and the big guy?" He made motions with his hands as if it would help his mother visualize them.
It took a few moments, but she did eventually remember - how could she forget, such a nice woman to have been helping her son - and her face lit up with recognition. "Ah, sí! I remember now, Diana!"
"Dinah," he corrected her.
"Dinah," she said, commiting the name to memory; she'd have to make her something as thanks. "She's your new councellor? Well, not so new now," she joked.
He had the presence of mind to chuckle - just because he had played hero didn't mean he had no self-preservation instincts - before replying. "Sí, she's my councellor again. I'm kinda happy; I don't feel weird talking to her about my problems."
His mother smiled, turning back to Jaime's breakfast. She was glad, finally her som had someone to talk to, share his problems with. Finally.
The two kept the conversation going easily, changing topics often to keep things light. But throughout the exchange something kept bothering Jaime. Why was Black Canary at his school? He couldn't shake the feelingg it had something to do with Bart and Connor's visit. A lot of strange things were happening all at once; add to that his mother taking Saturdays off because she was taking them off now. Something smelled fishy; and the part of Jaime that had been reading too many Nancy Drew books flared up his old need for action.
"Did you know José doesn't work anymore?" He tried to ask casually, but failed spectacularly.
"Yes," his mother answered normally, indulging his want to not make things awkward.
"Said you were making more money," Jaime told her, taking a sip of orange juice.
She hummed, a small smile on her lips as she read the paper. "I must be," she told him. "Our accounts are balanced. Now eat before it gets cold!" She scolded him playfully.
Jaime complied, eating his breakfast, but all the while wondering when this had happened. Wouldn't his mother have told them she'd gotten a raise? Or maybe - if this were some parallel Earth - she'd taken on illegal actions? But that didn't add up; his mother didn't work more than usual; yes, there was the occasional day where she'd stay late, but Jaime surmised it wouldn't be enough to pull enough to cover all their expanses.
Definitely something fishy going on, he told himself. And whatever it is, I'm going to find out.
A/N: I first want to apologize with the utter lack of updates; I don't really have an excuse except for my forgetfulness (I had to post this at 0100am without a thorough beta or I'd forget, again; I wasn't being malicious lmao) and a drop of general interest in fanfiction. But, as the end of the schoolyear draws near, I will have more time to do my own thing, which includes writing! ^^ So don't worry, this story should pick up by the end of april/may.
Please leave a review; tell me what you liked or what can be improved, if you have an inkling where the story is going or ideas!