Hi fellow fanfictioners, so school has been sooooo much fun. I'm completely exhausted but feel really bad about the length of this story soooo... UPDATE!

Bruce-Batman bolded

Tony- IronMan Italics

Grey-Sarge Italics and Underlined

Harriet- Magic Underlined

John- Watson Bold and Italicized

"What's your favorite color?"

Oh Lord, that's what he's starting with?!

Was a tad anticlimactic.

He is pulling your guard down.

I think about it, my favorite color, and realize that every color I can think of has been bastardized by Bruce's' memories of The Rogues and their color schemes. I mean just in that group you get an almost rainbow; and then you add all the wanna-be Rogues and vwala you have yourself a palette of colors. Not exactly conducive to finding a favorite color.

Black is not a color Bruce.

Slowly I say, "I don't have one." The boys' glow stops suddenly and I nearly plow him over, height difference or not.

"But… everyone has a favorite color!"

"Well black isn't a color now is it?! Otherwise I would!"

The grey glow sparks light blue, confused his voice asks, "Black's not a color?"

"No, neither is white or grey."

"Hm, your turn." and the blob keeps walking it's quick pace down the street.

"Truth or Dare?" I ask in accordance to these new-found rules.

Rules, ppf. Who uses those?

The average population, Stark.

Well they're boring.

"Truth." his voice whispers by my ear.

So, he has no concept of personal space either.

I flap around and push his shoulders a few inches away from me.

"Where are we going?"

The blob seems to point it's arm forward and to the left slightly. His voice, amused seems to mock me, "You can't see the park?"

I shake my head hoping Moriarty won't try to finagle an answer out of me, or mock me. I'm not sure which would be worse. I have enough of Gruff-Hands yelling at me; telling me that I'm a useless waste of life that Mother would have hated. That one hurt. Bruce wanted me to break his shins while Harriet set him on fire; John had to talk them, and me, out of it.

A quick breeze brushes pushes past my face. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol follows it. I sigh, "You just waved your hand in front of me didn't you?"

A sheepish, "Maybe."

We stop and he asks, "Do I need to hold your hand?" If anyone else had asked that I probably would have punched them, including Harry, but I needed him if I was going to have a chance at life. (A real life this time, no superheroing, no army. It is going to be fantastic.) And his voice held no concern nor even a little teasing, which I was expecting from him, that was a welcome surprise.

"It… would be appreciated, yes."

He took hold off my fingers in a light hold. James' fingers were warm and long, not at all the cold brutal fingers John remembers.

It's summer, it would be difficult for his hands to become cold.

That was a… you know what never mind!

I smile at the area where the blobs' face would be. I know I had no chance of hitting eye contact and so was probably creeping the young boy out. Although Harry said it was unnerving how when I looked at anything; it was as if I was actually seeing it.

A few sparks of yellow happiness flicker across the grey.

Maybe he isn't a sociopath?

His emotions don't last as long as other people's do. Don't get your hopes up.

He pulled me forward lightly. "It's your turn." I remind him. He sighs and his grey begins to radiate waves of light blue.

Is that the plotting color?

"Truth or Dare?" a monotone voice asks.

"Truth." I respond, wanting to play it safe for one more go-round.

"Why do you hide it?"

"Hide what?" I cheekily ask; vainly hoping the boy will leave off. Of course it's Moriarty, if he's anything like Sherlock then he's going to be obscenely stubborn. He just huffs and tightens the grip of his finger around my wrist. Not enough to bruise, but enough to show that he wasn't happy or going to play our game until I answered.

Playing it safe just failed.

If it goes down hill just push him in front of a car.

That… is disturbing.

I sigh unhappily, "I don't want people to treat me differently. That's all."

The dark blue confusion causes his vice grip to loosen back to the loose handing holding of before. "Why-"

I interject quickly, "Nope! It's my turn! Truth or Dare?"

"Dare." he growls, clearly still peeved with my impudence at not answering his question.

"I dare you…, the next time you see someone, to do a somersault, pop up and scream 'Ta-Dah I'm Fabulous!'"

He sighs, "Fine."

He stops suddenly and pushes down on my shoulders. I yelp when I collapse under the unexpected weight. I land heavily on a splintery wooden plank.

Bench, he wanted you to sit.

"You could just ask, you know."

"Oh."

We sit in silence listening to the small amount of car traffic. His slow breathing is peaceful and not even Tony had anything to say. That's a rare and much valued thing.

Ow.

Oh come oh you know you like to talk.

Silence is boring.

"Truth or Dare?" asks a soft voice.

"Dare."

No need to give him a reason to dislike me for unevenness.

No, he will dislike you because you sidestepped a question he wanted answered.

Bruce's' guess is correct. J-Moriarty's grey sparks black, but he doesn't react physically. Not even shifting on the bench.

He has quite a handle on control for a five year old.

It's weird how he can just contain it. Maybe that's why he's so messed up as an adult.

"Dare you to… sing the ABC's... backwards."

This unsurprisingly was one of Tony's/my many talents when drunk, or more often later in life with a concussion, he, being the genius that we are, can act completely sober. And to prove this Rodey forced us to record us/him singing it. (Apparently this is a test they, the police, use to guess if you're too drunk to drive or whatever.)

JARVIS drives!... drove. I didn't need too!

"Zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba."

After I sing the horrible off key song I belatedly realize that most children my age can't count to ten let alone sing the ABC's.

Bugger.

Maybe he won't notice?

"How the bloody hell did you do that?!" his childish voice squeaks in my ear. I bat him away from my face, but he pulls me to his side. My short frame is tucked into armpit, I think. And it is entirely to warm to be here.

And a smidge awkward.

"Um, just a good memory I suppose." my voice comes out more as a question than a statement.

"Oh we'll be bestest of friends you and me!" comes the excitable boy squished into me.

Well step one accomplished. Now what?

"Shit" is the only thing I can think, "Well I hope we don't die this time."

15 minutes later

"Well if you'd been listening to the traffic two streets away, where's the nearest taxi?"

"Um," and I point slightly to the right of our spot on the bench, "that way. It's stopped on the corner a block from here."

A small bulb of yellow bubbles up from the grey blobs chest at my answer. "And how'd you know that?"

"Taxis are almost always in the worst condition, whether or not the car is decrepit, and this one is, so I listen for the loudest car. Normally it stutters when stopping or starting which helps considerably in narrowing down the numbers. Then we are in London, it's just a safe guess that since around 60% of the vehicles are taxis or buses, it'll be a taxi."

"So you just took a guess?!" cames the shocked question.

I nod and more bubbles float around James chest. The already tight grip that he's had me in for the last fifteen minutes somehow gets tighter.

Jab his side.

She can't her arms are pinned down.

You know, yesterday if someone was this touchy, she would have nailed 'em.

Someone's got a cru-ush!

Stop taunting her! She needs to get out more!

Footsteps come up from behind me before a force hits the back of my head. Red over takes my mind.

"So bitty freak found a bitty blond to play with?" the voice is young and snide, but I can't turn to look at the boy to see what his colors are because James has me too tightly crushed to his ribs.

How does a little kid have this much muscle?

"Why don't you let her go freak? She probably don't wanna be near you, freak."

I squirm pushing against Moriarty; it really is an uncomfortable position to be squised into, he's rather skinny.

Dark blue spreads through him as he lets me go. I turn to the boy behind us, he's a light red color but not any injuries except for his right knee and palms.

Probably fell.

I smile at the face blob when I stand next to him, a pleased yellow passes through him.

"What's your name?" I ask

"Carl, Carl Powers." comes the smug reply.

And then I kick his… crotch. He bends over gasping, so I take the opportunity to elbow his face.

"Don't call him a freak."

I turn back to James with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, but I had to lie to get close enough to hit him. I don't like the name freak."

a long pause and the Blue slowly fades to Grey. "That was bloody spectacular! How'd you learn to do that?!"

I hold a finger to my lips and whisper, "Secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

And that is how I became best-friends with the Future Consulting Criminal.

Please review! My muses have all fallen into comas. :(