Every Cop's a Criminal

"He's obviously an imposter," Peter assured his daughter.

"An imposter?"

"Of course. Remember when the head of prisons, Patrick Portman, dressed up as…me? No doubt this is just one of the Cape's adoring fans." Peter didn't quite manage to keep the sneer off his face. He understood that Portman was grateful that the Cape had saved his life, but it still baffled him that the man had decided to wear that costume to the masquerade.

Or maybe you're just hurt that no one dressed up as Chess.

"I don't know, Vince. An imposter with Max's cape? That looks a lot more authentic than the outfit Portman wore on the train and that doesn't look anything like Portman. Not to mention the fact that whoever that is is talking with Dana. Aside from the carnival, who knows who you are? If I didn't know any better, I'd…" Orwell trailed off.

"You'd what?"

"Ask you what you were up to." She pushed a few buttons. If that was the Cape on the screen, he'd be wearing his headset…

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, just as Orwell put Vince on speaker.

"Vince, what are you doing?"

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"But Fleming does know that my husband was innocent?" Dana pressed.

"Yes, he does, but it isn't that simple…" Vince trailed off as he heard the words coming over his headset.

"Vince, what are you doing?"

"How is it not simple? He owns up to the fact that ARK made a mistake, which cost my husband his-"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Faraday. I have to go. Goodnight." He leapt off the rooftop and onto another one and another and another, before finally stopping to answer his partner.

"Were you watching me? You bugged my family's building? I can't believe this! Orwell doesn't always have to watch everything, you know. A man should be entitled to a little privacy-"

"Oh my god! Vince. That is you, isn't it?"

"Of course it's me! Who else would I…?" Vince punched the nearest wall. How could he have given himself away?

"Do you want to explain to me how it is that I'm looking at you right now?"

"Uh, you have more cameras here?"

"That's not the point. I meant that Vince Faraday is right here at the hideout."

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Orwell picked up her taser and aimed it at the man standing by her.

"And you have about five seconds to explain what's going on before I taser you."

"Jamie, don't do this," Peter implored her.

"Shit," Vince swore. "Orwell, I can explain."

"I'm listening."

"I haven't exactly been myself today," he chuckled nervously.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you have me on camera now?"

"Yes." Orwell moved so that she could keep an eye on the screen while still keeping the taser aimed at 'Vince.'

"Watch closely."

"NO! DON'T DO IT!" Damn it, Faraday! But it was too late. Staring directly into the camera he'd just spotted, Vince very deliberately pulled back his hood.

"I don't understand," Orwell said. The vigilante's hair wasn't Vince's, but she knew it from somewhere.

"You keep that mask on, you ignorant-"

"Just shut up! We might as well tell her," Vince said, dropping the last of the rasp from Fleming's voice.

Orwell's insides went cold. She knew that voice. She licked her lips.

"Tell me what?"

"Oh come on, Orwell! Didn't you wonder why Peter Fleming was suddenly going to announce Chess' real identity?"

Hadn't she said earlier that the press conference made no sense to her?

"Didn't you find it the least bit odd that the Cape didn't use his signature weapon once during today's rescue?"

Well, yes, she had been wondering. Aside from a couple of smoke bombs, the Cape hadn't used any of his favorite tricks against Scales. It was almost as if he had forgotten how to use the cape. Matter of fact…

"Wouldn't the real Cape have done everything possible to make sure that Fleming stayed at the press conference and cleared his name, instead of whisk him away at gun point?

"We've switched places."

"Who is 'we'?" Orwell asked, though the pieces had just clicked into place.

"Well, I really hate to put it this way, but technically Vince Faraday is Chess." Orwell's mouth opened and closed as she stared at the man wearing Vince's face.

"Dad?"

"Yes, sweetheart; it's me. Would you mind putting the taser down?"

Orwell blinked. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Her father was capable of a lot of things, but changing bodies wasn't one of them…

Oh god! He knew everything now: not just that she was Orwell (though now she knew how he had known her name), but also Vince's identity and the location of his hideout. She'd even mentioned Max and the Carnival of Crime! Maybe this was just a nightmare? Although, she hadn't had a nightmare this bad since… …before the Lich's toxin had left her system.

"Jamie, please." Orwell looked down and realized she was still pointing her taser at her father. She bit her lip. Her instincts told her that if she put down the weapon, she'd be unprotected, vulnerable. The last thing she wanted was to show vulnerability to him.

But then she'd been vulnerable this morning, when she had first walked into the hideout. Not only had she not had a weapon at the ready, but she hadn't realized who she was facing. He, on the other hand, had recognized her immediately…and he hadn't attacked her. He hadn't argued with her when she sent him…to save Vince, apparently. Instead, he had done as she'd asked. It was almost as if he had declared a truce, crazy as that seemed. (She winced at that thought. Why did insanity have to run in her family?) Finally, she set the taser down.

"Now that that's out of the way, why the hell didn't you tell me that Chess was your father?"

"Faraday, you have no business talking to my daughter that way!"

"Stuff it, Fleming! I wasn't talking to you!"

"No, you got us into this mess talking to your wife earlier. Now you've blown our cover. I can't believe you're wearing your headset, let alone the fact that you answered Jamie. You knew I was going to be here with her. What happened to you tracking down Scales?"

"You know what? I don't work for you anymore. You can't give me orders!"

"WHAT ORDERS?" Peter took a deep breath. He would not let Faraday make him lose his cool. "You volunteered to track him down, remember?"

"I didn't say when I would, though."

Anything Peter was going to say next was cut off by the sound of a shrill whistle. Taking his eyes off the screen, he found that it was his daughter who had whistled to get their attention.

"Enough! Vince, you get your butt back here pronto! You both have a lot of explaining to do."

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"Explain. Now." Orwell crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at them expectantly. Vince had removed his mask, revealing Peter's face and, frankly, giving Orwell the creeps. He was the first to speak.

"It's his fault."

"Oh, that's real mature, Faraday."

"You're the one that pissed off a magician!"

"I didn't piss off any-"

"Hang on. Vince, did you say a magician?"

"That was stupid. She'd sooner believe that wormholes and higher dimensions were involved," Peter said. He had thought his ballerina had strange tastes, devouring sci-fi novels like they were going out of season. As a scientist, he had tried to raise her to be down to earth, to instill in her from an early age that magic and other supernatural nonsense didn't exist in the real world… So it turned out he was wrong. Guess he couldn't be right about everything.

"Just tell me what happened."

"There was a magician at the fund-raiser last night," Peter shrugged. "I was going to ask for your assistance in locating her. I told her what I thought about magic and next thing I know, I wake up here." Orwell raised an eyebrow.

"That's a little bizarre, don't you think? Whoever she is, she couldn't have known Vince is still alive, let alone that he's your archenemy."

"Isn't 'archenemy' a little melodramatic?"

"Trust me, Fleming, it's completely appropriate," Vince put in.

"I'm just trying to figure out how this happened to the two of you. Dad, is there anything else you remember?"

"He was drinking. I woke up with his hangover. By the way, Peter, I've added that to the list of things I will never forgive you for."

"Be still my heart," Peter drawled. Addressing Jamie, he added, "I don't know. I did start drinking after my encounter with her." Orwell's interest piqued at that. Something must have upset him.

"Think back. What was said? What was going on?" Peter stared off into space. He recalled precisely what had put him into a bad mood.

"She was asking me if there was anything I would wish for, seeing as how I've already achieved money and power." He looked into his daughter's eyes. "There's only one thing I could think of: that I would do anything to know where you were." For a long moment, no one spoke. The hint of a blush staining her cheeks, Orwell turned to the computer and started typing.

"Looks like you got your wish," Vince finally said. His partner coughed.

"Dad, you said you met her at last night's fund-raiser?"

"That's correct. How long do you think it will take…?"

"Is this her?" Orwell asked. She had pulled up footage from the fund-raiser's security cameras and had frozen it on a shot of a brunette in fish-net stockings talking to her father. Peter blinked. He knew she was good, but he was still impressed by her computer skills.

"Yes, that's her. Now we need to find out who-"

"Got it," Orwell interrupted him, pulling up a new screen. "Zatanna Zatara: believed to be a part-time member of the Justice League of America."

"The Justice League? What would have brought a member of the League to Palm City?" Vince asked, confused. Wasn't the city off their radar?

Let's think. Who could possibly be important enough to warrant a visit from the J.L.A.?

Chess' words made Peter swear, drawing the attention of Vince and Jamie.

"It's obvious, isn't it? She's here because of Chess, because of me."

"Perfect. Orwell, can you find out where she's staying so she can change us back?"

"Now wait a second," Peter said. "If we go to her and explain that she made us switch bodies, she'll learn that you're still alive."

"And I can explain to her that you're Chess, so that would be your problem, not mine," Vince replied.

"Dad," Orwell piped up before Peter could start fuming, "you're not honestly telling me that you'd sooner stay stuck in Vince's body forever than admit that you lied about Vince? Dad?"

"…I'm thinking…"

"Ugh! You're hopeless. Well, you'll have plenty of time to think while I track down Zatanna's location. Meanwhile, what are we going to do about Scales?"

"Don't worry. I'll find him and put him back in his cage," Vince promised.

"Is that a good idea?" Orwell asked. "I mean, as long as you're in his body, you're Scales' target."

"Thanks for reminding me," as if I could forget. "I'm not going to be chasing him as Peter Fleming. I'm going after him as the Cape, who, in case you've forgotten, isn't one of Scales' favorite people to begin with."

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"Mr. Raoul, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dr. Magnarelli asked.

Scales' unofficial personal physician hadn't expected another house call (which, in this case, meant Scales coming to his home) from his most infamous patient after he was indicted on charges of first degree murder. Their arrangement provided Raoul with a level of privacy he wouldn't have received at a hospital. In return, Scales kept his mouth shut about certain indiscretions that might have jeopardized the doctor's medical license.

"Evening, doc. 'S my elbow; I think some blighter broke it." Magnarelli sighed.

"Well, let's take a look, then."

Author's Note: This chapter beta'd by IronAmerica. Special thanks to IA for giving me the idea for Magnarelli.

Well? Disappointed the guys didn't find a way to wriggle out of Vince's goof-up? Think Orwell found out Zatanna's identity too quickly? Dying to know what will happen when they finally catch up with her? You know the drill.

Thank you, Orwell and IronAmerica, for reviewing!