I'm restringing my crossbow when I get the call from the League that Artemis has been found. I knew who had her—knew what he did to young women—and I knew—wheelchair or no—I would destroy him. "You found her?"

"Not exactly." It's Batman. I'd recognize that dry voice anywhere. "Her father did."

"Lawrence?" There is very little that can surprise me, but this does. "Has she been … harmed?"

"No. He got there in time. Paula." I cannot remember the last time he called me by my given name. "Paula, he's been hurt."

"Hurt?" My Lawrence? "How badly?"

"You should get here soon. Kid Flash said he'd pick you up. We'll have another chair waiting for you at the hospital."

"Thank you, Batman."

There's a knock at the door. "Mrs. Crock?" The voice is young—so terribly young. I forget how young he is—how young they all are.

"I'm coming, Kid Flash." I almost say Wally but I don't. There's no telling who might be listening. I've met the boy a few times—I knew there was something between them when Artemis could not stop telling me how irritating he was.

He smiles at me when I open the door. "Artemis is fine. There are still some drugs in her system—she'll probably be out for a few more hours—but's she fine. I was so afraid—" He starts to shake.

I lay my hand on his shoulder. "As you said, she's fine. I would like to see her now. And her father."

"Yeah. Right. Sportsmaster." He bends down to pick me up. "Batman told you we have a chair waiting for you?"

"Yes. Are you sure you can carry me that far? I'm heavier than I look." Not that it's fat, mind you. I may have been away from The Life for years, but I have maintained my training as much as possible. Sometimes I even go into dangerous neighborhoods just for the fun of taking down a few muggers.

"That's okay, Mrs. Crock. I'm stronger than I look." He gives me a reckless, cocky grin, and I can see why my daughter loves him so.

The boy picks me up, and we're at the hospital in what seems like a blink of an eye.

Batman is waiting for me with a wheelchair that looks almost identical to my own.

"Paula."

"Batman." There's a curious kind of respect between us. I had fought him more than once in my younger days—not by choice, mind you. Lawrence might enjoy that kind of challenge, but I was always happier when he was not around. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you on the way to his room."

That's a bad sign.

Batman doesn't offer to push my wheelchair—he knows that I wouldn't like that. He tells me about the phone call that Lawrence made to the Justice League. He tells me about the chaos that Lawrence had left in his wake. He tells me of the wounds he had taken … he tells me of the man who had attempted to ravage my daughter and nearly killed my husband.

"This Dungeon Master. Where is he?"

"No, Paula." There was something almost like kindness in his voice. "Artemis can't afford to have you be put away—not now."

I say nothing more on the subject. I've not been away from The Life so long that I can't find out where they are hiding that man. When the time comes, he will learn what it means to harm my family.

Doctor Mid-Nite and Mister Terrific are in Lawrence's room when I arrive. They are speaking in low, hushed tones. "Mrs. Crock."

"Will he live?"

I'm surprised at how hard it is for me to say these words. I was calmer when I asked the doctors if I would ever walk again. To lose him … I can't bear the thought of it. I can't!

"The next few hours are critical." Mid-Nite is the one who tells me this. "If he were any other man, he'd have been dead already. Your husband is a very stubborn man, Mrs. Crock."

I laugh. "You have no idea, Doctor."

"We'll be outside if you need us, Mrs. Crock. Let us know when you're ready to see Artemis."

"Thank you, Doctor." Artemis has her boy. I know that he went to her side as soon as he left me. I will go to my daughter—but I will not go until I know if I go to her as a wife … or a widow.

The room is quiet except for the medical equipment that is keeping my husband alive.

I roll to my husband's side and take his hand.

It's a big hand. Callused and scarred. My own hands look almost tiny next to it. He's always had such strong hands …

"Lawrence …"

He has so many scars. There had been a time when I had known the story behind each one. I had known every battle he'd fought.

He has so many more scars now.

It kills me that I do not know the story behind so many of them.

Lawrence and I had been a legendary team. Sportsmaster and the Huntress. We had fought our way across three continents and battled—sometimes even beaten—scores of super heroes. We had moved as one—in bed, and on the battlefield.

It was only natural that we marry.

I did not love him then.

Does that surprise you?

Lawrence was madly, passionately in love with me. He was reckless and would stop at nothing to marry me. In the end, I had no choice.

I had to either marry him, or kill him.

And I found that I did not wish to kill him.

` Our partnership was profitable … and exciting. Lawrence was the only man I had ever met who could keep up with me. He was … adequate.

I almost did not tell him when I was pregnant with Jade.

I knew that Lawrence would wish to keep the child, and I was not entirely certain that I wanted to be a mother. A husband was one thing—something that I could discard when—if —it became necessary, but a child was quite another thing altogether.

But in the end, I could not do it. I could not terminate my pregnancy. I could not deny my husband a child. I could not deny my child her life.

Jade was always more my child than Lawrence's.

Even as an infant, she would think before she acted. She would cry, throw a tantrum, and then watch us react. Sometimes I would even see her smile as she drove her father to distraction.

In that, she succeeded quite well.

Lawrence wanted us to go straight when Jade was born. He did not want her to know The Life. For her sake, he tried to change.

The fool.

A tiger can never be anything but a tiger.

Lawrence was meant to live on the razor's edge. To fight impossible battles. To bleed and fight and take what he wanted.

I knew he would fail before he began, but I also knew that I could not stop him from trying.

And that might have been when I realized I had started to love him.

I had always lived for myself. Every girl for herself, so to speak. My mother had taught me that lesson as a child, and I had never forgotten it.

But Lawrence … Lawrence taught me to think about someone else.

Even more so than my children.

And when he hit Jade, I was furious—furious at Lawrence, and even angrier at Jade because I knew she had been testing her father, baiting him.

The bruise on Jade's face faded far sooner than the scar on Lawrence's soul ever did.

He never forgave himself, never trusted himself with her—with Artemis—ever again.

More than ten years later, and we all still feel the reverberations from that blow …

It was shortly after that, I lost my legs.

Well lost is a bit of a misnomer.

I sacrificed them.

Lawrence and I were on a heist, fighting as though we did not have two daughters waiting for us to get home. Fighting as though we were still carefree and free.

I did not care.

I forgot I was a mother. I forgot I was a wife. I was the Huntress—wild, untamed, and free.

And then a policeman aimed a sniper rifle.

Not at me—at Lawrence.

I did not have to shout a warning. I did not have to shove him out of the way. I could have stood by and let Lawrence pay the price.

I could have, but I didn't.

I loved my freedom, I loved The Life, but I loved Lawrence more.

And a life without him—The Life without him—was simply not worth living.

So I took the shot—the shot that would have killed him, crippled me.

And I regret nothing.

He is Lawrence Crock. The Sportsmaster. A world renowned criminal. His own daughters think of him as nothing more than a common thug.

But he is my world.

And I love him.

And I always will.