Ellen sat still for a long time, trying to process her father's words. Miguel was dead? That couldn't-how was that possible? She'd just seen him yesterday after Bolton had threatened him-had Bolton killed him? "What happened?" she finally asked. Her father looked like he didn't know how to respond. Her father always had something to say, the fact that he didn't now was just further proof that he wasn't lying. "What happened to Miguel?"

Her father looked down at his hands, which were folded in front of him on the table, and sighed. "Ellen, I'm not sure you need to hear-"

Ellen slammed her own palms down on the table, startling her father. "Fuck that!" she shouted. Her father's face darkened and he raised up a finger as if to scold her when she cut him off. "I saw a man die last night, Pops! I beat up three guys and almost fell off a goddamn bridge to save Marisol! I deserve to know what happened to Miguel!" Her father's face took on a stricken expression for a moment, before resuming a calculating look. "Please, Dad," Ellen pleaded. "He wasn't just my best friend's brother. He was my friend too."

Her father sighed again, then removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "My willful little girl," he muttered. He put his glasses back on and looked back at her. "Miguel turned himself into GCPD last night. He confessed to murdering a patient at Arkham Asylum."

Ellen gasped, then shook her head. "No," she said. "He wouldn't do that! Miguel cared about patients, he liked looking after people, he'd never hurt any-" Then she remembered what Marisol had said. She'd been kidnapped by Bolton and his goons to make Miguel do something. Miguel had told her himself that he'd fix it. The argument between Miguel and his parents, everything all made sense now. "Bolton told him to do it, didn't he? That's why he kidnapped Marisol. Bolton killed the patient, and he wanted Miguel to take the fall for it!"

Her father looked like he was about to say something, then he shook his head. "That's what Miguel believed, yes. He just about told Dr. Young as much when she spoke to him at GCPD, but she wasn't able to keep him from being taken to Gotham County."

"That's where he died?" Ellen asked. "Gotham County?" He'd died in jail, for something he didn't do, while that piece of shit Bolton was still out there. "What about Bolton?" she asked. She felt she should be crying, but instead, all she felt was a wave of red-hot anger. "He's not gonna get away with this! Marisol's back with her parents, she can tell the cops what he did to her!"

"Yes, she can," Ellen's father said. "Hopefully."

Ellen nodded, then froze. Marisol...after everything that happened to her last night, she'd just lost her big brother. She must be devastated. "I wanna go see her."

Her father frowned. "Ellen, she and her family might not be up for-"

"Please, Dad?" Ellen begged. "She needs me! Please?"

Her father took a deep breath. "All right. Go take a shower and get changed. I have a few calls I need to make."

It had seemed like a hundred years since Ellen had climbed the up the stairs that led to the Sanchez family apartment, even though it had been less than a day. Just twenty hours ago, Ellen hadn't been a costumed vigilante, Miguel had still been alive. Her father followed her on the way up, and she was glad for it. Every step she took, she could feel her composure unravel just a bit more. She'd try to stay strong for Marisol, but she was afraid that once she saw her best friend, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from crying. Finally, she came to the Sanchez family door. She took a breath, then knocked on the door. In a moment, the door opened, and Ellen saw Mrs. Sanchez.

Ellen had known Mrs. Sanchez since she was five years old. She'd been older than her own mother of course, but she'd always been a vibrant, young-looking woman. Now, she stood in front of Ellen with red-rimmed eyes, looking as if she had aged fifty years. "Ellen!" she choked out, and she stepped forward, enveloping her in a hug.

Ellen threw her arms around the older woman and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from coming. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sanchez," she said. "I'm so sorry about Miguel."

Mrs. Sanchez took a step back, then leaned down to kiss Ellen's forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart. And thank you for helping Marisol."

"Can I see her?"

Mrs. Sanchez's face fell. "I'm sorry, but no. She's not feeling well now."

Ellen nodded and bit down on her lower lip. "Will you tell her I came by?"

"Of course, angel. Do you want to come in?"

"Mia," Mr. Sanchez's voice called out. He stepped up to the front door and Ellen was struck by how run down he looked. If Mrs. Sanchez had looked like she'd aged fifty years, Mr. Sanchez looked like he'd aged a hundred. "Marisol is asking for you."

Mrs. Sanchez nodded and went back into the apartment. Ellen took a step to follow her in when Mr. Sanchez held his arm out. Ellen looked up at him, confused. "Mr. Sanchez?"

Mr. Sanchez looked down at her with a look she'd never seen from him before. His dark eyes were boring into her as if he'd caught her in the act of something. He took a deep breath. "Thank you," he said as if it was painful for him to say, "For what you did for Marisol. But don't come back here again."

Ellen took a step back. Mr. Sanchez's words were more painful than the slap she'd received from that thug last night. "What-why? What did I do?" She took a step forward. "Mr. Sanchez, what did I do?"

Mr. Sanchez came out of the apartment fully, shutting the door behind him as he stepped out into the hall. Behind her, Ellen could hear her father taking a step forward as well. She peeked out of the corner of her eye and saw that his eyes were narrowed as he considered Mr. Sanchez.

"We lost Miguel," Mr. Sanchez said. "We almost lost Marisol. We're not going to risk anything else happening to her because of you."

"Because of me?" Ellen repeated. "Because of me!? I haven't done anything! I-"

"It's not what you've done," Mr. Sanchez said. "It's what you are." His gaze moved from Ellen to behind her. Ellen turned and realized that he was staring right at her father. "We can't have that around Marisol. Not anymore.

The last parts of Ellen's composure began to break down completely now. "I'm still me," she said, her words shaky. "Mr. Sanchez, please, you've known me for ten years, I'm still me!"

"I'm sorry, Ellen," Mr. Sanchez said, shaking his head. "But this is goodbye. Don't come by again. And don't call Marisol again."

Ellen couldn't stop the sobs now. She reached up to rub her eyes. "Please don't do this," she pleaded. "She's my best friend, please!"

"You insufferable coward."

Ellen and Mr. Sanchez turned to see Ellen's father, fury emanating from his body as he walked past Ellen up to Mr. Sanchez, his fists clenching at his sides. Without warning, he grabbed the older man by his shirt and threw him up against the wall. "Dad!" Ellen shouted.

"You ingrate!" her father screamed into Mr. Sanchez's face, either not hearing her or not listening. "If it wasn't for my daughter, your daughter would be dead! My daughter almost died last night while you cowered at home! How dare you try to claim that she's the one endangering your daughter!? You did that when you prevented your son from going to the police! If you hadn't, if you hadn't been such a gutless coward, maybe he'd still be alive!"

Mr. Sanchez's frightened face turned purple with rage and he snarled, attempting to surge forward and attack her father, but her father merely moved his hands to his throat. Ellen realized that he was about to strangle him. She ran forward then and tugged on his coat. "Dad!" she cried out again. "Stop! Please!"

Her father dropped his hands and took a few steps back, then looked down at Ellen as if he'd woken up from a dream. "Ellen..." Mr. Sanchez moved quickly, opening the door to his apartment and slamming the door behind him. Ellen heard the door lock and her heart shattered.

She'd known the Sanchez family for ten years. She'd thought she was almost part of that family, but now she was on the other side of a locked door, unable to see her best friend ever again. The sobs came now and her legs felt wobbly. "What did I do?" she asked. "What did I do? Why does he hate me now?" She felt herself almost collapse and her father was there, holding her in a tight hug. Ellen buried her face into his shirt, the way she had when her mother had held her when she was little. "What did I do, Dad?" Her father rubbed her back awkwardly but said nothing. He had no words for her.

Stephanie hissed a bit as she leaned back against the leather sofa in Bruce's living room. According to Dr. Thompkins, the bullet had just grazed her thigh, missing any important arteries, but moving her leg still hurt. "Two weeks of no patrol," she grumbled. "Great."

"It could have been worse, you know," Tim said in the spot next to her left. He handed her a glass of water that he'd fetched for her. She took it with an indulgent smile. Tim had been hovering about her since they'd arrived at the manor a half hour ago. Cassandra had too, sitting in the spot on her right. She was just less obvious about it. "Dr. Thompkins said you need to make sure you don't aggravate your injury."

"I know, I know," she said. "You know how I feel about being benched though. I hate being bored."

Tim let out a short laugh. "Don't I just know it!"

Stephanie laughed a bit, then turned to Cassandra. "Nigma really almost picked a fight with Jason when you guys found Enigma? Seriously?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Not almost. If I hadn't stepped in, he would have."

Tim let out a low whistle. "Wow."

"He cried too when we found her. He really does love his daughter."

Stephanie took a sip of her drink, considering both Cass's words and what Ellie had told her last night. She put her drink down on the table in front of the couch. "Yeah, well I hope he tells her at least. She needs to hear it from him."

"He will," Cass said.

Stephanie shook her head. "What a night. At least Enigma and her friend are safe. Did Bruce ever get around to finding out what exactly was going on?"

"Yes," Bruce answered himself, entering the room at last. He sat down in the Ottoman chair that was on the other side of the coffee table, directly across from the couch Stephanie, Tim and Cassandra were crowded on. "The girl who was abducted, Marisol Sanchez, had a brother, Miguel Sanchez, who worked as an orderly at Arkham Asylum. He turned himself into GCPD last night and confessed to murdering Victor Goodman."

"King Tut?" Tim asked. "I thought he committed suicide!"

"That was the official story," Bruce said. "But Miguel claimed that he murdered Goodman."

"Why?" Stephanie asked. "If it was a suicide-" then she put the pieces together. "Goodman really was murdered, but not by Miguel. Bolton must have done it, and Miguel knew. Bolton kidnapped his sister to blackmail him into taking the fall for Goodman's murder!" Stephanie cracked her knuckles. "So, when do we go drag Bolton's butt to GCPD?"

"We don't," Bruce said.

Stephanie looked stunned. "We don't? Why the Hell not!? At the very least, we've got him on kidnapping-"

"You said that Marisol Sanchez 'had' a brother," Cass said. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Bruce's facial expression didn't change, but he nodded. "Yes. He was found hanging in his cell at Gotham County. The GCPD coroner has declared it as a suicide."

A long silence came over the small group. "Someone must have gotten to him," Tim said at last. "Maybe not Bolton, but someone connected to Arkham. They're trying to keep whatever's going on at the Asylum quiet."

"Which means that the rest of the Sanchez family is in danger too," Cass added.

"And Enigma," Stephanie said. "Those creeps with Bolton were trying to take her too. We have to protect her-"

"I just had a very long, very difficult conversation with Edward Nigma about this," Bruce said. Stephanie realized for the first time just how irritated Bruce was. She was glad she hadn't been around to hear that phone call. "He was very insistent that we stay away from his daughter. He doesn't want her involved any further in whatever Strange is doing at Arkham."

Stephanie scowled. "Is he serious!?"

"He's just trying to protect her," Cass defended. "He's her father."

"I get that Cass, but Enigma could help put Bolton away!"

"She violated the Costume Ordinance though," Tim pointed out. "If she came forward, they'd throw her in Juvie. And since Bolton knows that she's Nigma's daughter, Strange must know now too. We can't risk her real name getting out there."

"I agree," Bruce said. "Which is why none of you are going to approach her." His steel blue eyes drifted to Stephanie in particular and she immediately was on guard. "I know that you formed some kind of bond with her," he said almost gently. "But this is for the best. The Sanchez family need to be the ones to come forward and tell Gordon what happened."

Stephanie was relieved that Bruce didn't seem angry with her, but she still didn't agree with this. "Even if they do and Bolton does go down, this isn't the last we've seen of Enigma. She put a costume on once. Twice now, actually. She'll do it again. She's like us, Bruce, whether Nigma wants to admit it or not."

Bruce said nothing, which meant that he agreed with her.

"What about Jason?" Tim asked darkly.

Bruce's expression darkened as well. "I'll be speaking with Jason about this. In the meantime, get some rest. All of you." He gave Stephanie a nod. "Especially you, Stephanie. You did a good job."

Bruce's praise was still something she'd never thought she'd get used to, but Stephanie couldn't complain too much. "Thanks, Boss." Her smile faded though as she thought of Ellie. One way or another, they'd meet again. She was sure of it.

Monday, 9:30 am

While Bolton had recounted everything that had happened, Strange said nothing. He'd just kept his gaze locked onto Bolton's own, his mouth drawn in a straight line. Bolton almost stumbled over a few words, he was that unnerved by Strange's demeanor. "...So Blake had the Sanchez kid, and Red Hood I guess took off with Nigma's brat," he finished, not noticing or caring about the flash of irritation that crossed Strange's face at the mention of Nigma's brat. "I don't know for sure what happened after that. I came straight here."

"I see," Strange's deep voice rumbled. "Luckily for you, I do. Blake is dead."

Bolton looked slack-jawed at Strange. "Red Hood?"

"No. He ran his car off the West Side Bridge. The GCPD were alerted yesterday when the bride's maintenance crew reported an unauthorized raising of the bridge. They found evidence that a car had gone over the side and conducted a search. They found Blake's truck and his body earlier this morning."

Bolton looked down at his feet. Damn. Blake and he had gone way back. Wait, but if Blake was dead-"What about the Sanchez girl?"

"Her body was not recovered, which means either it drifted away, or she's still very much alive." The thunderous expression on Strange's face told Bolton exactly which option the good doctor thought was more likely.

Bolton gulped. "I can still fix this. Let me go over to the house, I can wipe them all out-"

"My man in GCPD has already taken care of that. Unlike you, he knows the value of discretion." Strange sat up from his desk, and Bolton realized not for the first time how physically imposing he was. "Do you have any idea just how much your misadventure could have cost us!?"

Bolton grit his teeth and clenched his fists. "Hey, don't dump this on me! You're the one who didn't know about Nigma's kid! This would have gone off without a hitch if that little bastard hadn't gotten involved!"

Strange's only response was a cold laugh. "Do you mean to tell me," he said mockingly, "That all it took to derail you was a little upstart in a homemade costume? That does not inspire me with confidence in your future endeavors."

Bolton sneered. "Just give me two days. I'll find that little brat and make her sorry she was ever born!"

"You will do no such thing," Strange said firmly. "I told you once not to pursue the girl. You didn't listen, and now four of your cohorts are dead, two of them at the hands of Red Hood, who seems to have taken an interest in the child. Are you willing to go up against him a second time?"

Bolton nervously licked his lip at the thought. "So you're just going to ignore her?"

"For the time being. Miguel Sanchez's unfortunate demise had bought us time to clean this mess up." Well, at least Miguel was dead. That fact brought a smile to Bolton's face. Then Strange gestured towards him. "Come. I wish to show you something." Strange walked out from behind his desk towards his bookshelf. He pulled a book out and the shelf opened, startling Bolton somewhat. Behind the shelf was a hidden door, locked by an electronic keypad. Bolton watched as Strange entered a key sequence and the door opened. "Follow me." Bolton did as Strange requested, cringing a bit as the door shut behind him. He followed Strange down a narrow hallway until they came to another door, locked by another keypad. Strange entered a key code and the door opened. Bolton realized that it was a doctor's examination room. "This is where I conduct certain experiments of mine," Strange said. Bolton's attention was drawn immediately to the center of the room.

There, strapped to a doctor's chair, was Burns. Bolton rushed over to him. He was unresponsive, his mouth opening and closing in silent gasps, his eyes open, glassy, and vacant. His body looked battered beyond what had happened to him in the Narrows and Bolton's nose curdled at the smell coming off of him. He turned back to Strange with a glare. "What the Hell did you do to him!?"

Strange just chuckled. "Burns is my newest volunteer for a certain...device that I will be implementing in the near future, courtesy of our dear friend Jervis Tetch." His smile turned into a glare at Bolton. "The Mayor still insists that you have some use to him, so you may consider this a warning. One more slip up Bolton, and you will be sharing Burns' fate. Is that clear?"

Bolton looked from Strange to Burns, and back to Strange. He nodded. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Bolton clenched his fists. "Yes, Sir."

"Very good. You may leave."

Monday, 12:30 PM

It was Monday afternoon instead of Friday morning, but given the circumstances, Edward didn't think Penelope would mind too much if he stopped by. And if he could be honest with himself, he needed to see her more than anyone else right now.

She was sitting at her desk, frustrated, and unless he was mistaken, genuinely upset about the fate of Miguel Sanchez. "Someone got to him. I'm sure of it. Ward or someone must have had people on the inside to shut Miguel up! I should have seen that coming! I didn't even stop to think about it!"

"If that's true," Edward said. "Then Miguel's fate was sealed the moment he decided to go along with Bolton's demands. There's no point blaming yourself for it."

Penelope sighed. "You're right. It's just...Miguel Sanchez was going to go public with how Strange allows the staff to mistreat the patients. He gave us enough to call Strange into question at least, but the word of a dead man who was the self-confessed murderer of Victor Goodman isn't enough. We're going to need to use what he gave us strategically." She looked up at Edward and her face softened just a bit. "How is Ellen holding up?"

Edward sighed and took off his hat long enough to run a hand through his hair. "Not well. I stayed with her yesterday and today until her grandmother came home." He flinched a bit when he recalled that meeting. "Rachel's going to be keeping her home from the school for the next few days until she feels better."

Penelope frowned a bit. "She's taking Miguel's death that hard?"

Edward shook his head. "It's not just Miguel." He sighed. "When I spoke to the Sanchez parents, they wouldn't cooperate with me until..."

"You told them you were Ellen's father," Penelope finished. "And they didn't take it well?"

"Mrs. Sanchez seemed to be alright with it. Mr. Sanchez though told Ellen to her face that he thought it would be too dangerous for his daughter to associate with her. Ellen was devastated. She spent the rest of yesterday crying." Edward shut his eyes when he recalled that. "I'm the cleverest man in Gotham, one of the cleverest in the whole world," he said softly. "And when my daughter asked me why he was treating her like a pariah for something she has no control over, I couldn't think of a single thing to say to her."

Penelope sighed herself. "Mr. Sanchez just lost his son. He almost lost his daughter. In his grief, he might be lashing out at Ellen as a scapegoat. If you give it time, he might come around."

"And in the meantime, Ellen can be separated from her best friend of ten years because her mother had the bad sense to sleep with a Rogue sixteen years ago," Edward groused, getting up from his chair and walking towards the window that overlooked the street. Edward looked out and let out another sigh. "Rachel blames me for what happened you know. She blames me every time Ellen does something she doesn't approve of course, but this time," his shoulders sagged a bit. "This time, she's absolutely right."

"Edward," he heard Penelope say. "You're not the one who forced Ellen to put on a costume and run after her friend. You've made it quite clear to me at least that you don't want her to go down that road."

"I don't," Edward agreed. "I never did. I never wanted Ellen to follow in my footsteps, or to have any inkling of what's going on between us and Strange." He leaned his forearm against the window and touched his forehead to the glass. "I really thought that I'd be able to manage it too. That if nothing else, I could keep all the ugliness of my life away from her." He shook his head. "I never should have done it."

"Done what?" Penelope asked.

Edward sighed. "Last year, when I found out for certain she was my daughter, I decided that all I was going to do was write her grandmother a check every month. I'm no father. Ellen was better off without me trying to pretend that I was. When she came to my office, and I told her as much, she gave me this look..." He'd remember that look for the rest of his life. That pleading expression, the unshed tears. "It was like I was looking into my own face when I was a child. I decided that I couldn't do to her what my parents did to me. I decided then that I was going to try to be in her life."

"And you regret that now?"

Edward slowly nodded. "I came into her life and look what happened. She almost got killed trying to be a costumed type, because she thought if I could do it, she could too. She's estranged from her best friend, the exact same person she risked her life to save, because of my association with her. If it ever gets out publically that I'm her father, she'll have a target on her back for the rest of her life. Maybe it's for the best if I walk away."

"Would that be for the best for Ellen, or would it be the best for you?" Edward turned at the almost angry tone in Penelope's voice. She had gotten out of her chair at some point while he'd been looking out the window and was just in front of him, glaring up at him. "Do you really think that if Bolton, or Strange, or if anyone else you've angered found out about her tomorrow, that they would stop and care about how involved you are in her life before they targeted her? Did the fact that we were fighting at the time stop Victor Goodman from abducting me to get to you? If you're in her life, at the very least, you can protect her. You're not going to be able to completely shield her from the fallout that comes with being your daughter, but you can guide her through it. There are questions that are going to come up in her life that only you can answer. She was the one who sought you out, Edward. Even knowing who you were, she came looking for you. Maybe you're right, and she doesn't need the Riddler, or even Edward Nigma, Private Investigator in her life. But she needs her father, now more than ever." She hesitated for a moment, then reached up to cup his face. "You decided to be in her life because you know first hand what parental rejection can do to a child. You made the choice to be a better man than your own father was. Live up to it."

Edward stared into her eyes for a long time, taking her words in. Then his jaw set in determination. He walked past her, towards her door. "Where are you going?" he heard her ask.

He grabbed his coat from her coat rack and pulled it on. "I'm going to fix this," he said, not looking back.

An hour later, he was standing outside the Sanchez door, pounding on it. "Open up! We need to talk!"

The door opened, and Mrs. Sanchez appeared, shocked. "Mr. Nigma! What are you-"

Edward pushed past her and entered the apartment. Mr. Sanchez was in the living room, dragging a suitcase behind him. On the couch was Ellen's friend, Marisol, that was her name. She jumped up when she saw him. "Are you planning to go on vacation, Mr. Sanchez?" he asked.

Mr. Sanchez turned pale. "We got a call from someone today," he said. "They told us if we knew what was good for us, we'd get out of town!"

Strange no doubt was attempting to tie up loose ends. "You know if you do that," he said. "That you're giving up the chance to send Bolton to jail for what he did to your daughter?"

Marisol teared up then, and Mrs. Sanchez ran to her, holding her in her arms. "We can't put her through that," she said. She looked up at Edward with pleading eyes. "Please, we can't lose her like we lost her brother. We have to protect our baby girl."

Edward looked at her for a long time. After everything that had happened with Ellen, after his own conversations with Batman, with Penelope, he thought now that he understood her. "I can get you out," he said at last. "I can get you out of Gotham. I can make it so that no one will be able to find you."

Mrs. Sanchez cried then. Mr. Sanchez looked up at him with amazement in his eyes. "You would do that for us?"

"For you? No," Edward said. "I'm doing this for your daughter. For my daughter. And I'll only do it on one condition."

Mrs. Sanchez looked distressed. "We can't afford to-"

"I don't want money," Edward said shortly. "This is what I want."

Monday, 8:30 PM

Ellen woke up to the sound of raised voices coming from her living room. She slowly sat up in her bed, rubbing her puffy, red eyes. She peered at the clock by her bedside. It was just past 8:30. She'd spent the whole day in her room, alternating between tossing and turning and crying. She'd never bothered changing out of her pajamas. Gramma had tried to bring her food, but her stomach hurt too much to have anything more than a few sips of water. She frowned a bit as she heard Gramma's voice now. "...Haven't you done enough!? What are you doing here!?" Who was she talking to?

Then she heard another voice. "My daughter is in distress. Where should I be?" Ellen blinked. Dad? What was he doing here?

"This is all your fault!" she heard Gramma shout again.

"I'm aware of that," Dad said, and he sounded serious. "Let me be perfectly frank: I don't know what passed between me and Diane, and whatever it was, I wish I could take it back, but I can't. You are perfectly free to hold that as well as all of my other sins against me. We can see each other as little as you want and when Ellen turns 18, we'll never have to deal with each other again. In the meantime, however, I am not going to let your ill feelings stop me from being Ellen's father. Now, I'll ask you again, may I see her?"

Ellen opened the door to her room before Gramma could tell Dad to fuck off and padded down the hallway. Both adults looked at her as she walked into the living room, their faces mirroring each other in concern. "Ellie, baby," Gramma said, walking over to her and smoothing back her red hair. "We didn't wake you, did we?"

Ellen shook her head. "No, Gramma." She looked past Gramma to look at her father, who was still hanging back by the front door. "Hey, Dad."

Her father came forward then, ignoring Gramma's glare and gently touching her shoulder. "Hi, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?" Ellen found herself asking. Not that she wasn't glad to see him, but he usually didn't push his luck whenever Gramma chased him out like she'd done earlier that day.

"I wanted to see if you were up to going for a ride."

Gramma frowned. "It's after 8:30 at night. Where on Earth would you be taking her?"

"Just for a car ride," Dad said smoothly. "We won't be gone more than an hour. If you're up to it, Ellen."

Ellen nodded. "Let me get changed."

"Ellen-" Gramma started. At the pleading look Ellen shot her, she relented with a sigh. "Alright. But for one hour. If you aren't back by 10:00, I'm coming after you."

Ellen gave her a hug. "Thanks, Gramma."

Ellen and her father passed the car trip in silence. Ellen had guessed that Dad would want to use the time to talk with her about everything that had happened, but instead, he kept his eyes on the road. Ellen watched out the window as they left the Lower West Side, crossed into Park Row, the East End, the Industrial District...she frowned. Where were they going? Finally, they arrived at the East End Docks. Her father pulled the car over and put it in park. "What are we doing here?" she asked him.

"You'll see," he answered. "Follow me."

Was this a riddle of his? Ellen unbuckled her seat belt and followed her father out of his car and down the wooden planks that made up the old docks. At the far end of the boardwalk they were walking down, Ellen saw three people standing in front of a boat. In the darkness, she couldn't quite make out their faces. Then one of the figures called out her name and rushed towards her. Ellen realized with a jolt who it was. "Marisol!" She ran down the dock, meeting her friend halfway and opening her arms. Marisol returned her embrace and the girls both began to cry.

"I'm sorry," Marisol gasped. "I didn't know what Papa said, I never-"

"It's okay," Ellen said. "It's okay." She looked in front of her to see Mrs. Sanchez looking at the pair with tears in her eyes. Mr. Sanchez couldn't look her in the eyes, instead staring down at his feet. "I'm so sorry about Miguel," Ellen said.

Marisol stifled a sob, then hugged her tighter. "It's not your fault," she said.

Ellen took a step back to fully take in their surroundings. Why were they here at the docks? Did Dad bring them here? She turned around to look at her father. "What's going on? Why are we here?"

Her father exchanged a long look with Mrs. Sanchez before he spoke. "Ellen," he said. "The people who work with Bolton sent Marisol and her family a threat. They aren't safe in Gotham right now."

Ellen dropped her arms. Now she understood. Dad had brought her here to say goodbye. "Where are you going?" she asked Marisol in a small voice.

"Puerto Rico," Marisol answered. "We'll be staying near my Aunt and Uncle."

Ellen bit her lower lip. "How long?"

"I don't know," Marisol answered. "I don't know if we'll ever come back."

So even after everything she'd done to keep Marisol safe, Ellen was about to lose her anyway. "So I'll never even get to talk to you again?"

"Not quite," her father said. He walked up and gave each girl a slip of paper. "These are email addresses that you can use to communicate with each other. I've made it so these emails can't be traced. Once you're settled in Puerto Rico, I can get a secure phone number set up so you two can talk to each other."

Ellen's eyes welled up again. "Thanks, Dad."

Her father gave her a quick smile, then nodded towards the boat. "It's time."

Ellen hugged Marisol again, as tightly as she could. It might be the last time. "I'll try to get to Puerto Rico someday. I promise."

Marisol let out a shaky laugh. "Two art majors against the world, right?"

Ellen smiled through her tears. "Right."

"Marisol," Mr. Sanchez called out.

Marisol reluctantly pulled away. "Bye, Ellie."

Ellen gave her a tiny wave. "Bye."

Marisol wiped her eyes, then followed her parents onto the boat. Within minutes, the boat pulled away from the dock, out into the Gotham Bay, towards the Atlantic. Ellen stood for a long time watching the lights on the boat twinkle on the horizon, the lights blurring through her tears until they disappeared into the inky darkness of the night. At some point, her father had joined her, standing at her side.

"You helped them get out," Ellen said when she'd lost sight of the boat. "Why?"

"Because she's your friend," her father said. "And I should have listened to you at the beginning of all this. I'm sorry."

Ellen could count on one hand how many times she'd ever heard her father apologize. "Thank you. " She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry too. For running off, for what I said about Scare-about Jonathan."

Her father took a quick breath, then draped an arm around her, pulling her close to him. "I know."

Ellen snuggled up to her father, taking comfort in his presence, but still having questions. "Why?" she asked. "Why do Marisol and her family have to leave Gotham? Who is Bolton anyway? Why is he such a big deal?"

Ellen felt her father stiffen. "Ellen, when I first met you, I told you there were parts of my life that you couldn't be involved in-"

"Dad," Ellen said, keeping her tone as measured as she could. "I am involved. Please?"

Her father let out a sigh. "Alright." He told her a story, a story of having the Mayor as a client, of a conspiracy, of an Arkham doctor named Strange. Ellen listened with rapt attention, every odd thing she'd noticed about her father, every question she had about just why he met with Doc Young explained. When he finished, her tears had dried. Her sadness at saying goodbye to Marisol turned to anger at the men who had killed her brother and driven her and her parents into hiding. "And here we are," her father said.

Ellen clenched her fists. "They aren't getting away with this," she seethed. "Bolton, Sharp, Strange, all of them! They're gonna pay for this!"

"That is my intention, yes," her father quipped.

Ellen looked up at him. "Let me help! I helped stop that Bolton creep once-"

"Absolutely not," her father said firmly.

"Oh come on Pops!"

Her father shook his head again. "Ellen," he said gently. "Do you know why me, your grandmother, and your mother were so secretive with you?"

Ellen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Because telling anyone that you're my Dad is dangerous. I get that, Old Man."

"It's not just about keeping you safe from physical danger, although that is the chief reason." Her father sighed. "Ellen," he said again. Do you remember how Mr. Sanchez reacted towards you when he found out you were my daughter? He's not the only person who would react that way. There are people in this world, stupid, ignorant, fearful people, who once they found out you were my daughter, would only ever see you as my daughter. They would judge you for that without any attempt to see you for who you are. Any good that you did as Enigma would be overshadowed by the fact that I'm your father. That's not the life I want for you, or the life your grandmother or mother wanted for you."

Ellen sighed deeply herself, considering her father's words. "I get that," she said. "But I can't just sit back and do nothing. That's not who I am."

"We can revisit this conversation when you're 18. In the meantime, please, do as I say. Please. I don't think I can survive another scare like that."

Ellen huffed. "Alright." She would. For now. She then hugged him. "For what it's worth," she said. "There's a lot worse things I could be then your daughter. Even if you are a jerky old man."

Her father laughed at that. "Well, there's also worst things I could be then your father, you willful little brat."

Ellen giggled a bit. "I love you, Dad."

Her father hugged her a bit tighter. "I love you too, Ellen." Ellen smiled. Despite everything, at least she knew now beyond a shadow of a doubt that her Dad did indeed love her. "Now, let's get you back home before your Grandmother comes after us."

Three days later

Thursday evening, Ellen came out of her apartment building, lugging a trash bag to the dumpster in the buildings rear parking lot. The only non-school related trip she'd be making outside for the next six weeks, as per Dad and Gramma's edicts. She huffed as she opened the dumpster lid and threw the bag inside. It wasn't so bad at least. She'd received her first email from Marisol that day, telling her that they'd made it to Puerto Rico, that her parents had gotten new jobs. Knowing she was alive and safe made some of the pain go away. Her costume was still hidden away in her closet. Despite her father's wishes, Ellen couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. Bolton was still out there, still walking free. One way or another, Ellen wanted to be the one to take him down.

"Hey."

Ellen startled when she heard the voice and turned around. Standing less than five feet away from her was Red Hood. She jumped back. "What the fuck!?"

Red Hood raised his hands up. "Easy, Kiddo. I don't bite, remember?"

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"Followed your Old Man here couple days ago."

Ellen narrowed her eyes. Despite his help, she didn't trust him. "So what do you want? You trying to get back at my Dad for something?"

Red Hood chuckled a bit. "If I have a problem with Eddie which I don't, I'll settle with him directly. Came to see you, actually."

Ellen relaxed, somewhat. "Why?"

"I like you."

"Gross."

"Not like that, Kiddo!" Red Hood shook his head. "Man. No, you're scrappy. You don't give up easily and you see things through to the end." His voice became a bit lower. "You remind me of someone I used to know."

"What's your point?"

"Blunt. As far as the costumed things go, you're okay. I could make you good."

Ellen blinked. "Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"You want to get back at Bolton for what he did?"

Ellen bit her lip. "Yeah."

"Thought so. I could teach you how to take him down."

The Red Hood wanted to teach her how to be a superhero? "Holy shit. Really?"

"Really."

"My Dad doesn't want me to get involved. He says its too dangerous."

"It is," Red Hood agreed. "But Bolton knows you exist. Sooner or later, he's going to try to come after you again. And your Dad might not be there to protect you. I can teach you how to protect yourself and other people from him." He came closer to her and held out his hand. "What do you say, Enigma? You in?"

Ellen looked at his hand. She thought of what she'd seen him do, how he'd saved her, helped her save Marisol. She thought of Marisol, and how her life got ruined by Bolton. She thought of Bolton, and how she wanted nothing more than to take him out for good. She shook his hand. "I'm in."