Tim was lying in bed, buried in an autobiography of the Blue Beetle ("Seriously, We're Not Gay: My Friendship With Booster Gold") when Jack opened the door and knocked on it, in that order.

"Tim? Timmy?"

Tim's eyes kept tracking from left to right, left to right…

"Look," Jack said as he closed the door behind him. "I know you think I'm butting in where I'm not wanted and issuing edicts on things I don't understand. And that might be true, to some extent. But you've also got to accept that I'm the adult and I know what's best for you. You think I never wanted to bust some heads when I was young and the world was going tits up?"

Left to right, left to right…

Jack sat down beside Tim and put an arm around him. "Tim, do you trust my judgment on this? I know it's hard. But let me tell you something, when I was your age… I thought all adults were dumbasses too."

Tim drew an index card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Jack.

Trying to bond with me by using light profanity as a flattery to my maturity won't work.

"So, that's it. You're going to give me the silence treatment? You can't keep quiet forever."

Tim handed him another card.

I've been trained to resist interrogation.

"Interrogation!? Tim, I am your father."

I am a captive. The fact that this captivity is sanctioned by society does not make the metaphorical bars any less real.

"You know, there's no possible way you can predict every single thing I say and have a response for it."

It's easier if you make yes or no statements.

"Everybody was kung-fu fighting!"

Those cats were fast as lightning.

The kitchen of the Clocktower was sufficient to feed a platoon, with a meat locker full of spare ribs, walk-in freezer, dishwashers, sinks, stoves, and generally everything the staff of a four-star hotel might need to feed their patrons. Right now, Dinah Lance was only focused on one food item.

"Don't tell her I said this…" Dinah said as she scraped some peanut butter onto a bowl of vanilla ice cream. "But Barbara pigs out on ice cream when she has nasty break-ups too."

She handed the bowl to Steph, who devoured it like she hadn't eaten anything in days. "I think this is it. I don't know if we're going to get back together this time."

"Oh, honey… it can't be all that bad."

"I punched him."

"Oh."

"In the face."

"You, uh… want some sprinkles on that ice cream?"

"No."

Dinah, leaning against the stainless steel refrigerator across from Steph, started eating out of the carton. Steph, sitting atop a counter, morosely picked at her melting ice cream.

"Then we started kissing. There was tongue."

Dinah dropped her spoon. "How… much… tongue?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Tonguealicious." Steph looked up. "Hey, how come you get to eat out of the carton?"

"Because I'm an adult, thus I get to drive, drink, and have really nice boobs," Dinah said as she fetched a clean spoon, then realized there wasn't enough left in the pint to justify the expenditure. "Look, all that really matters is do you love him."

"I think so… I don't know, it's a tough question!" Steph jumped down from the counter, abandoning her ice cream bowl to Dinah's tender mercies. She paced like a caged tiger as Dinah began eating her leftovers. "One minute he can be charming and witty and just… everything you want from a guy, the next he's just this asshole and I don't know what I ever saw in him. To say nothing of the sexual attraction, which doesn't make things any easier! I don't know, have you ever been in love with a total jerk that you can't help but be in love with?"

Dinah shot Steph a hard glance. "Maybe once or twice."

Steph turned around in her pacing and saw that Dinah was eating her ice cream. "Hey! I wasn't done with that!"

"This stuff goes straight to your hips," Dinah said with her mouth full. "You'll thank me later."

Pouting, Steph turned her mind back to Tim and resumed pacing. "He just… I try to reach out for him and I don't know if he'll be there for me. That's the bottom line. I never know what I'm going to get, the man or the mask. Back when he was Robin, I hated myself for wanting to make him choose… and now I resent him for choosing the man and still not choosing me."

Setting down the ice cream down, Dinah grabbed Steph's shoulders, stopping her long walk. "Steph. You know I think of you like a… well, not a daughter. A younger sister. Not much younger, of course, but still… my point is, I want you to listen to my advice. From everything you've told me, there are things you hate about him. So, do you love him more than you hate those things? And, more importantly, do you love him in spite of those things… or because of them?"

Steph pondered this for a long moment. "I guess… I kinda want to hit him and have sex with him at the same time. Is there any way to combine those two things?"

"You'd better ask Catwoman."

"Okay, this is new." Nightwing pulled at the bars on Tim's windows, testing their strength. "Shoddy workmanship. Now, I could recommend some awesome security companies."

"Thanks, but no." Tim got up from his bed and walked to the window, holding a hand up to the block out the purple of the setting sun. To him, it looked like eggplant. "Still dusk. You're out awfully early."

"Figured I'd get here before doing my rounds. Here." He passed a bag of fast food through the bars. "Don't know if they're feeding you in that little cupboard under the stairs, Harry Potter…"

Tim took the Happy Meal and began sorting through it. "'Man cannot live on bread alone.' Unless that bread is a sesame seed bun with spicy chicken between it."

"By the way," Dick said quickly. "I kept the toy. Hope you don't mind."

"Honestly, just because they're having a Transformers promotion campaign…"

"Hey, no one says anything about Babs' plushies!"

"Those are kinda cool… in an cute sort of way. Yours are just embarrassing."

Nightwing, standing on the windowsill, hung onto the bars with his hands as he leaned back. "This is the part where, if I were rescuing you, I'd leave you behind. Transformers are awesome, man. Nowadays you kids have crap like Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh, no wonder you're all shooting up schools and giving each other blowjobs. And speaking of mouth-to-genital contact…"

Tim looked up at Nightwing and dead-panned "Uhh, look, Dick, I like you a lot, just not in that way."

"You and Steph, retard. How're things going?"

Eating his fries, Tim sat back down on his bed. "I take one step forward, one step back."

"How does that work?"

"She punched me and I kinda deserved it."

Rubbing his jaw in sympathy, Dick said "Yeah, we always do. Then what happened?"

"Then she kissed me. A lot. I think we got to third base."

Dick nearly slipped off the windowsill. "She gave you head?"

"What? No. I guess it just felt like third base."

"That's a special feeling."

"Could I ask you for a favor?"

"Anything."

"Well, I already have a bo staff, so… can I borrow a condom?"

After a moment, Dick managed to pull himself back up onto the ledge. "Does that imply you're going to give it back?"

"No, I just… need it."

Dick reached into a hidden pouch on his uniform and pulled out a latex condom. "Whatever you do, do not keep this right next to your Batarangs. Embarrassing as all hell when you throw one of these things at Deathstroke... and it sends the wrong signal too." Tim reached for it and Dick pulled it out of his reach. "Why do you need it?"

"In case things… develop."

Nightwing leaned against the bars casually. "You know, things used to develop with me and Batgirl on cases."

"Dick, can I have one or not?"

"Sometimes things developed in the Batmobile."

"…"

Dick glanced at Tim.

"Please… please tell me you washed it afterwards."

"Bruce has fifty million dollars worth of forensic equipment, never figured out what the smell was."

"I always wondered why he got rid of that Batmobile with the face on it."

"Besides the fact that it looked retarded?" Dick slid a condom between the bars. Tim shoved it in his pocket. "Okay, I get the condom, but you said you already had a bo staff? What's that for?"

"Same thing as the condom. Protection."

10. House Call

Barbara had just taken her glasses off to rub her sinuses as was her custom when the computer screen grew blurry in front of her when strong fingers slowly wrapped around her shoulders, massaging the tension away kicking and screaming.

"Dinah, you have until the count of five billion to stop doing that."

Drawing down to shoulder level, Dinah's face joined Barbara's reflection in the computer monitor. "Long day?"

"So long it proved that time is indeed relative." Barbara leaned back in her chair, relaxing into Dinah's soothing hands. "So, how's Steph?"

"Being pulled in eighteen different directions at once. Boy trouble, superhero trouble… thank God she hasn't asked me if I ever feel not-so-fresh."

"Where is she now?"

"Sleeping on the couch. Felt asleep on my shoulder. Cutest little thing. Had to tuck her in. Should I call her mother, tell her Steph's spending the night?"

"I'll do it. Voice scrambler works best for me."

"Admit it, you get a kick out of sounding like a fifteen-year-old girl."

Barbara let loose with a girlish "Teehee," then turned to look at Dinah. "Maybe we should get one of our own."

"Huh?"

"You know, a sidekick. Like someone from Young Justice. Youthful apprentice to help out, pass on our guidance too…"

Dinah shook her head. "A little blonde teenager running around the Clocktower? I don't think so."

"It was just a thought. But I guess I've got my hands full with you anyway…"

There was a ring at the door. Barbara checked the security cam to see Ollie, in full costume, was outside.

"Green Arrow's knocking at our door," Dinah said wryly.

"Is he stalking you? Because I can go all alpha female on his ass. "

There was another ring. "I'd better go see what he wants…"

Barbara craned her head back, reached out, and clapped Dinah's face. "Ignore him."

The doorbell rang yet again. "He'll wake Steph. What kind of superheroes would we be if we can't let one little girl get a good night's sleep?"

Barbara smiled. "Bleeding heart liberal."

"Civil rights-violating hawk."

"I'm going to bed."

"Join you in a moment."

As Barbara locked up her systems, Dinah walked out of the gear room, through the living room where Steph was sprawled out in front of TV. The light from the muted TV washed over her and Dinah, in passing, pulled up the blanket she had given Steph over the girl's eyes, shielding her from being woken by any bright television lights. The doorbell rang again on her way there.

"I'm a-comin', I'm a-comin'."

She opened the door and Ollie, beneath his mask and beard, offered her his cheesiest smile. "Hey pretty bird."

"Don't call me that."

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Only so I can throw you back out. C'mon."

Dinah and Ollie stepped inside. Ollie looked around the Clocktower, impressed at the obviously high-tech set-up.

"What do you want, Ollie?" Dinah asked, hands crocked at her hips.

"You." Nervously, Ollie began to fiddle with one of his arrows. It was actually kind of…

Dinah shook it off. "There's nothing between us. I've found someone else."

Ollie continued tinkering with the arrow, turning it over in his hands like it was a Rubik's Cube, refusing to meet Dinah's eyes. "I know, I know, but can't you remember the good times? I mean, surely you could give me another chance."

"Read my lips. I don't trust you. I don't love you. I'm not even sure I like you. You cheated on me, Ollie, you betrayed my trust and I can't forgive that."

Ollie ran his thumb over the arrowhead compulsively. "I cheated on you? What are you talking about?"

Dinah sighed and rolled her eyes. He probably thought, in his own skewed way, that this was romantic. "Yes, you cheated on me. We broke up. End of story."

"Dinah, you're a bright, intelligent, charming, beautiful young woman. I'd have to be crazy to cheat on you."

With that, he jammed the arrow into her stomach.

Dinah looked at Ollie, making a series of disbelieving gasps somewhere deep in her throat as Ollie twisted the arrowhead. The blood didn't geyser out like something in a cheap slasher movie, it just kinda slowly trickled out like ketchup finally reaching the end of the bottle, like the old song went, anticipation, anticipation, is makin' me late, is keepin' me waitin'.

Ollie cupped her chin in his hands. Dinah noticed that they were callused all of a sudden, it didn't feel like when Ollie had touched her, it felt like how a piece of meat must feel when a butcher was deciding how to cut it up. They made eye contact and his eyes were pitch-black, like a porcelain doll's.

"Shhh," Ollie said, and somewhere between that and the last thing he'd said he'd lost his soul, at least his voice sounded that way, it sounded like some poor, rabid thing curled up to die in the cold. "Shhh. You're going into shock. The pain will be gone soon. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'm not here for you."

Dinah fell to her knees and felt something warm and sticky on her knees and realized it was her blood, she was kneeling in a puddle of her own blood and it was spreading and Ollie was standing over her.

"If you're not planning on any profound last words, you mind explaining the fishnets to me?" Ollie asked.

Dinah crumpled forward and went to sleep and Barbara was waiting for her in bed and

Arkham stood over Steph, the only light coming from the TV, the screen reduced to snow by the being's presence. He walked around to the side of the couch, the static from the TV hitting his body and casting a long shadow over Steph.

"Hello, pretty bird."

11. Home Invasion

Jack Drake didn't mean to open the door. He had meant for the chain to hold just enough for him to get a good look through the slip of an opening. He would've used the spyhole, but it was late and he didn't want to put in his contacts all over again and…

Arkham smiled as he smashed the door in, knocking it off one of its hinges and shoving Jack down onto his back.

"Hello. Can I speak to the superhero of the house?"

Jack got to his feet, intent on defeating this intruder. He hadn't thrown a punch since the unfortunate incident with Bruce Wayne, but he was feeling even madder now, which he hadn't thought possible. His fist swung out like a battering ram…

And crashed against one upturned finger, where the punch terminated as surely as if it had run into a brick wall.

"I don't know you," Arkham said, dark eyes seeming to express a hideous glimmer of a smile. "You are, for all intents and purposes, exceedingly well-adjusted. I suspect this will save you a fortune on prescription drugs and alcoholic beverages in the future. If you live that long."

The last thing Jack heard was "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm not here for you."

Tim had woken up to many things in his brief life. Death traps, prisons, starships… but nothing terrified him as much as the man balanced on the foot of his bed, looming over him and seeming to fill the entire room with his malevolence.

"You can get dressed, if you want to. I won't peek."

Tim rolled out of bed and grabbed his bo staff from under his bed. Flicking it out to full length, he held Arkham at arm's length and hoped the second time was the charm.

"Still waving sticks around, I see. Foolish boy. I'm trying to give you a gift."

His knuckles were wrapped so tightly around the staff that they turned white. "What gift?"

"Your heritage. The heritage of all humanity."

And suddenly Arkham was right next to him and Tim felt himself being lifted into the air, unable to breathe, the thing's clammy hand around his neck…

"Me."

Then the screaming started.

In the blink of an eye Tim saw and seeing was his undoing and he closed his eyes to shut the things out but they weren't outside they were inside and it was a movie playing inside his head, projected onto the insides of his eyelids and he couldn't look away he couldn't look away he couldn't look away he couldn't look away.

And sometime in between eternities Tm realized he was the one that was screaming.

The Birdarang has a de-cel line attached to it. It looped around Arkham's neck like a noose and Arkham had just enough time to turn his head to see Nightwing standing on the other side of the barred windows before Dick kicked off the windowsill, yanking Arkham along for the ride. Arkham's body hit the window, the three iron bars cutting his body into three pieces with a slurping sound like a boot stepping into wet sound. Nightwing watched with grim satisfaction as the creature hit the ground and splattered like a vacuum bag exploding, scattered to the winds.

He turned his attention back to the window. Inside, Tim was on his side, barely visible from Dick's vantage point. Nightwing looked to the bars on the window and decided on the simplest solution. The bars may have been iron, but the windowsill wasn't. He stomped on it until it broke, plaster and wood crumbling away.

Slipping under the bars, Nightwing saw that Tim had rolled onto his back, eyes rolled back in his head, front teeth biting down on his lower lip so hard that blood was trickling down his chin, body shaking uncontrollably. Kneeling down, Nightwing grabbed Tim by the shoulders and held him as still as possible, trying to snap him out of whatever it was Arkham had done to him.

"Wake up, Tim!" he screamed as he slapped Tim. "Wake up!

"Wake up!"