"Here's your healthy baby girl," Wally said as he knelt down beside Max, holding out a tiny baby, wrapped in a blanket.

Max weakly sat up, her body still shaking and aching, and gingerly took her baby into her arms. Though she was grateful for Wally, happy she didn't have to do it all alone, she wished more than anything that Dick was there. She kissed her baby's tiny head and sighed, content.

"My little Ava."

"It's a beautiful name," murmured Wally.

Max glanced up at him, eyes soft. "You've had practise in this, haven't you?"

"I've helped a couple times before here with the villagers. Anyway, what happens next?"

"You take care of Ava. Make sure no one knows of her father; if anyone finds out they'll know her heritage. For her safety no one can ever know what she is. In time, she'll come for Ava. That I can't stop," said Max quietly.

Confusion flashed on his face. "Who would find out? We-"

"You're going home, Wally."

Chapter 5 Fortuitous

"This is your stress reliever?" Bart asked sceptically as I emptied another clip of bullets into the paper target, purposefully being a tad slack for the aim.

I set the pistol down. "Growing up I tried a lot of things to relax. Drugs, alcohol, fast cars, sex – pretty much anything dangerous and addictive I did it. It made me feel…I guess it helped with everything. Of course, it wasn't healthy but here I can shoot and relax. People have massages or long walks…I have this and it helps."

He nodded. I think he was trying to understand, to get me. It was cute. Since my talk with Tate I realised I already had a way into the League. It just had to be done perfectly, not slip ups, no personal attachments. Looking at Bart I realised it'd be too easy. I almost felt bad. Almost. Bart was just collateral damage in the greater plan. A necessary pawn. With the League in my hands I had a greater chance of getting my team out, of saving them. Though I said I'd leave Tate to his investigation I couldn't completely trust he wouldn't screw up, that he'd do fine if I just let him handle the search, I couldn't just leave him to it. If I find out my team had died, or that any of them had died, because I'd willingly just let another person take over, that I'd put up no fight or not even tried to find them personally, I'd never forgive myself. And I didn't plan on becoming a guilt-ridden useless agent yet.

"No judgement. I run – probably just as healthy. Normal people go for a run around the block whereas I go for a run to Spain or Antarctica," he said casually.

I peered at him, one brow raised faintly. "Spain? Antarctica?"

"Churros and snow."

Shrugging, I filed it away. Tiny things like that would be helpful in the future, providing I played it carefully. Quickly but carefully. No unnecessary slip ups. If I was to save my team I had to do it right and to not lose my cool just because Bart had a pretty face. I'd been suckered and shredded by that face before. Not again.

"Plans for today?" He asked as we walked out of the shooting range and onto the main street.

"Practises from three for work tonight but I'd be careful if I was you. You wouldn't want to give the wrong impression," I said, walking just a fraction ahead of him.

As expected I heard his breath shift. "The wrong impression?"

"A guy really only asks questions like that when he's trying to get to know a girl more, to date her," I said and turned around. "And I wouldn't want you to think the wrong thing about me. I don't date. I don't do serious. I won't be pinned down by anything – or anyone."

Not for the first time I left him speechless.

After the range we went down to the park where a local market was underway, sprawled out across the grass. Flocks of people descended on the white stalls, dressed warmly for the icy breeze that swept through. Though I wore jeans and a shirt I quickly wished for a jacket. I walked slightly ahead of Bart, determined not to look cold, to give him any reason to be that damn gentleman I remembered. If I was being honest with myself the whole meeting with him, the walks and chats, were apart of a long plan. Yet I had to remind myself to keep everything detached. Slips led to mistakes and so much was at risk.

I glanced at my watch. Six hours until I made contact with Tate. Would he have anything? What if he had a location? I hadn't made enough leeway with Bart to commence the next phase.

"Got a meeting?" Bart asked, striding up beside me effortlessly.

Shaking my head I slapped on a practised smile. "Nothing major. Just seeing an old friend."

"The same one from the university?"

The corner of my lips tugged. Jealousy, good. "Yeah. Oh, I got a job."

"Where?"

"The Olympia. Good pay, decent hours. I reckon I'll-"

"Quit."

I stopped suddenly and arched a brow. "Um, why?"

Bart stared at him. I saw a myriad of emotions play out in his eyes. Five years ago those eyes had been closed off, a kind of secret wonder and puzzle to me I'd been unable to solve. Staring at him now was like staring at open book, the words clear before me. It was bizarre and something I would've thought about more were it not for the next words that came out of his mouth.

"You do know who owns that club, right?" Anger laced his words, stirring my own fury – I quickly reigned it in and reminded myself this was good.

"No, I don't because I didn't have a long winded job interview with him and chat out my terms," I said, deadpan.

Surprise flashed in those brilliant eyes of his, clearly not expecting me to admit to the truth. To know the truth. How ditzy had I seemed as a kid for him to think I was like that now? Despite all I'd said and shown how I carried myself? I was a far cry from the desperate and confused kid who cried because no one understood her.

"You're willing to work with a criminal," he stated. "You're okay with it?"

I strode off to a nearby store and ordered a hot coffee. As I waited I didn't answer him. When the coffee was finally handed over I turned to Bart, to that expectant look in his eyes.

"Not all of us have the luxury of being picky. I applied for a bunch of clubs but he was the only one to say yes. Now, some of us don't have a glitzy education-"

"That was-"

"My choice and I don't regret it. The best decision I'd made. My point is I need the work and it's not for long. Besides, it's not as if I'm some sordid criminal working with gangs so you can wipe that look off your face," I said, taking a deep sip.

He blinked. "What look?"

Seeing we were drawing a few curious looks I stalked off to a small clearing away from the stalls. The eyes followed us, lingering but soon other things drew their attention. We were forgotten. I cast Bart a dry look, trying to edge it with a flicker of fury.

"Like I'm one of them," I said with a drawl. "You're judging me like I'm some gang member when all I did was get a job."

"I wasn't judging-"

"Yes, you were. Bart, not all of us have talents where we can save the world or perfect lives. I've made a life for myself. I'm sorry you can't approve of it. That it's not your idea of what I should be but I gave up trying to be that person. You know why? You want to know why I stopped trying to be that person that Wally wanted? Because it made me feel crazy, like I was a stranger and everything was wrong with me. I hated it. I hated me. Do you know what it's like to live with that feeling? With that loathing?" I let out a jagged breath. Somehow the game had become real and truths began to spill out. "I made a choice long ago to stop living a lie, to be who I was. I want to say I'm sorry again but I can't. I'm not saying sorry anymore. It's your problem now you can't deal with who I am."

I poured the coffee out. The hot liquid steaming briefly on the icy grass as I spun on my heel and strode off.

"You think my life is perfect?" He asked, his voice so soft I almost missed it – missed the bittersweet tone that saturated his words.

I turned around. "It's a hell of a lot rosier than mine. In your mind anyway."

"I'm not going to say I had it as bad as you but that doesn't mean my life isn't in pieces right now. I was dating a girl for five years. I met her just after you vanished. I loved her. She was my best friend, my rock, my life. With her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. So I did the natural thing and asked her to marry me. Only, she said no and left without any decent explanation. I haven't seen her since. Now I'm stuck with a ring I can't figure out why I'm keeping and everyone I know is walking on egg shells around me. I thought I had everything figured out but now I don't know."

For the first time since meeting him again I was actually stunned silent.

Ellia stared at her bedroom wall, at each wall really, and frowned at the symbols covering it. She'd started drawing them a week ago. It was all gibberish, really. It was ancient Kaleran, the old written tongue they'd used briefly whilst she was growing up. That had been years ago. Decades. Staring at it now was like staring at a dictionary in another language, no translation. Just a bunch of meaningless symbols.

Turning away she strode into the kitchen – and almost screamed as Batman emerged from the shadows of her balcony. She stepped back, scowling with fury, annoyed because she had stated explicitely to the League she was to be left alone outside work. That meant no unscheduled visits, no invasions of her privacy. She considered shutting her bedroom door but there was no way he would be able to see it from where he stood. Folding her arms, she drummed her fingers against her bicep. "You have ten seconds to explain before I blast you out."

"That wouldn't be wise," he advised calmly.

Ellia's skin crackled with energy, bursts of light scattering across her skin. Her own eyes glowed intensely, flickering with barely contained power. He couldn't have caught her at a more dangerous time, when she barely had a leash on her own power. "I don't care. What the hell do you want?"

"I have a question. Just one."

"Fine," gritted out Ellia.

He retrieved a thumb drive from his belt and set it on the coffee table. "Can you have a look at this?"

Her gaze narrowed icily. "You couldn't leave this until I was back at the Tower?"

"No."

The ice in her veins melted as curiosity flickered, drawing out that old side of her she'd taken care to keep buried. Cocking her head to the side she eyed the drive for a moment, then cast Batman a questioning look, wondering what game he was playing. Clearly something he didn't want the League to know about.

"Fine. I'll look at it. Now can you go? And try not to break a hip on your way out. You're not as spry as you used to be, despite what you may think," she added with a cool voice.

Batman spun on his heel and vanished out of her apartment. She strode across and locked all the balcony doors, the front door and she grabbed the drive. For a moment she eyed it curiously. What was on the drive that would make Batman go to her, not the League, and go behind his team mates? She ought to feel insulted in some capacity but she really couldn't care like that, not when she was wondering about what game she'd been drawn into. Was it about the team of spies Batman had been following? If so, why? They weren't world conquering criminals. Sure, they robbed and broke every law they could but they weren't like Brainiac or Savage or any other nutcase. They were a force in the world. Simply there. They didn't answer to anyone. They were ghosts.

She went into her bedroom and plugged the drive into her computer. Immediately she felt the call of the system and she slipped into it as easily she did a shower, the energy washing over her.

The files sprung up before, like holograms, and stretched out with a myriad of pictures. Each one contained a girl, her whole form out of focus, like she ran at a different frequency to the rest of the world. Ellia reached out and touched the closest file. A bolt of energy zapped through her, sending her staggering back. She reeled for a moment, stunned; then, with a renewed focus, strode back and surged her own energy at the picture, forcing it to clear. It fought her, lashing out with stinging bolts, before it yielded. The photo cleared.

In the closest picture the girl's face stared back at her, hard and defiant. Ellia's face drained of blood. She knew that face.

The steady hammering against the front door dragged me from bed, cursing and snarling, crackling with energy. Through the gloomy shadows I strode to the front door, ignoring the switches, ready to shred whoever the hell woke me up. I yanked the door open, one hand poised to hurl energy when I saw who it was – and the blood staining their shirt. He staggered past me, leaving me stunned for a moment. I quickly shut the door and wiped all the footage of the building, then sent a message to one of my cleaners. By morning any blood he left getting to me would be gone.

"What the hell happened, Tate?" I asked, trailing after him.

He slumped onto one of the chairs by the dining table with a curse. "I was shot, obviously."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed the fact that you're bleeding all over my floor. You're paying for the cleaners, I hope you know," I said coolly.

Tate's eyes flashed to me. "I was followed. Someone grabbed me but I got free. Got shot leaving. Had a friend teleport me here. You kn0w-"

"I don't but I don't want to know," I said and knelt before him, lifting his shirt, ignoring his protests. "It looks clean through but I'll call my guy, get you patched up. Then we're having a lovely chat about etiquette when it comes to visiting friends."

His brows lifted. "We're friends?"

"Don't get gushy on me, Tate. I don't like you," I said, dismissively. "Now, give me a moment."

I slipped into my bedroom and made a quick call. When I returned Tate had removed his shirt completely and had a handtowel pressed against his wound, trying to staunch the slow flow of blood. A scold burned my lips at how he was using one of my good handtowels. Pushing the thought aside I took the seat near him and stared at him.

"Care to explain how you knew where I lived?"

"I didn't. I have my talents, you have yours."

I didn't press it. Tomorrow I'd arrange for a new apartment, then I'd look into his gift later. See if I could use it. The immediate problem, however, was ensuring that Tate didn't bleed out on my floor before he had a chance to talk properly. The smart bastard was being purposefully vague until he was not standing on death's door, blackmailing me into saving him. Were it not for the unique set of circumstances I probably would've just let him bleed out.

"Mei's going to kick my ass," he chuckled.

Blinking, confused, I frowned. "What?"

With a small dry smile he gestured to his wound, to the blood seeping through his other hand. "I promised not to get shot again."

"She specifically told you not to get shot? What, is being stabbed okay?" I replied archly.

"I got shot eight years ago and almost died on the kitchen floor. She saved my life. That was how we met, you see. Told me I could marry her if I promised to never get shot again," he explained quietly.

"I'll never understand that. It seems like a stupid thing to promise," I said simply.

Tate glanced up, his gaze measuring. For the first time since we had met face to face he seemed to look at me differently. Like some prearranged idea of me had been broken down. There was a light to his eyes, illuminating a new side to him – the human side. This was a surprise. He was the first agent I'd seen show it; the rest didn't have it or, if they did, they kept it so deeply buried it was never seen. Before that look he was an agent to me; now, I glimpsed the husband and lover that was there, the human. It was unnerving.

"I love my wife and for her, I went to the greatest lengths to keep that promise. What about you? Surely you have at least loved someone?"

I thought about all the people I'd been infatuated with as a teen, in those gloriously messy years of violent outburst and wild power. There had been people I'd drawn to; destructive souls, the closest thing I had something familiar. Bart's face lit up, brief and brilliant, but that was a child's love; feint, smothered by reality. Aside from that there had been no attachments, no one to warrant interest or to risk anything for. No one to die for.

"No. I don't get attached," I said simply, just as a resounding knock came from the front door. I flashed to the front door and opened it, admitting a tiny older woman wearing speckled blue glasses and a business suit. "Mrs Jane."

Mrs Jane glanced up with her sharp, intelligent dark eyes, measuring me for a moment – likely beginning an assessment of my health. She pressed her thin lips into a sour line, irritation stirring in those eyes of hers, an accusation on her lips. Tate's haggard cough broke her focus. She blinked several times and sighed; with a brief, waspish look, she strode past me, travel bag in hand, and set it on the dining table. I lingered by the hallway, watching as she forced open her bag and began rooting around for items. Tate glanced at me, then at her, flashing a warm smile. She ignored him completely.

I withdrew into my bedroom, shedding my clothes and slipping into the shower. By the time I finally emerged out of the bathroom and changed into a fresh pair of clothes there was a knock at my bedroom door. I quickly wrapped up my hair in a towel and opened the door. Mrs Jane stood there.

"Your friend is resting in the spare room. By tomorrow he'll be fine," she stated calmly, watching me with hawk-like eyes. "Sit on the bed, Ava."

"Why?" I asked warily.

"Sit, Ava," she commanded again and pushed me to the bed, shutting the door behind her.

Amused, I sat down and watched as she sat down beside me. She took my hand and watched me, as if waiting for some sort of reaction. For an almost uncomfortable amount of time she simply stared at me. What she was waiting for me I had no idea. Only that I didn't seem to be responding the way she wanted, since her brow furrowed deeply, deepening the crow's feet that had knitted more furiously in the past few years. She withdrew her hand.

"You didn't feel anything?" She asked quietly.

My blood cooled. "You tried to shock me?" After a pause, I flexed my hands and set them by my side. "How much?"

"A lightning bolts worth. It should've killed you or you should've felt it," she replied grimly. "You just absorbed it." Her eyes flickered to mine. "Have you been feeling any different? Any noticeable changes?"

"No but I haven't exactly been pushing it on the energy front. There hasn't been a need," I said. "This isn't a problem. I mean, more power isn't exactly bad. Right now it's just what I need."

But the look on her face told a different story.