We still don't own them, and hope they're still enjoying the little adventure we borrowed them for.

-X- -X- -X- -X- -X-

The mood around Rabe Memorial Hospital's emergency waiting room had grown more cheerful, Mouse thought. She was honest enough to admit that her feeling had more to do with the arrival of an orthopedic specialist from Gotham than with any objective change in the room itself. Sure, the howling stab victim had been wheeled off to surgery and a group of frat boys now teased each other boisterously in one corner of the waiting room while their friend was treated for excess intoxication. But, those changes in irritation were minimal and surface only.

Mouse's growing joy came from a deeper place. Giz might still be in surgery, but the specialist, Doctor Orton, had spoken with her before the operation began. He'd explained what happened in medical detail that Mouse couldn't follow, but one phrase remained in her mind and gave her hope. He'd said, "We can fix all that."

She hadn't heard any of the details concerning how he'd perform this miracle. His words echoed in her mind, "We can fix all that." She'd gladly given permission for the surgery, and now could only sit, her closed laptop resting on her thighs under hands clasped almost as if in prayer. Now, finally, knowing that Giz would be okay, she could close her eyes and relax. There was nothing to do but wait. However long it took.

"Mouse, is it?"

The voice was male, businesslike but not abrupt, and Mouse's eyes flew open to see a trim, well-dressed, white-haired man with a patch over his right eye. The details registered and her mind supplied the name. "Deathstroke."

"May I join you?" He didn't wait for an answer, of course, simply sat in the plastic chair next to her. An orderly pushing a gurney passed by, then a couple of nurses heading for a break. No one glanced at her or the man beside her. Where else but Bludhaven could the world's deadliest mercenary chatting with the world's third best hacker simply be business as usual?

"How is Giz?" The question surprised Mouse, and it must've shown on her face, because he smiled. "Unlike your former client, I don't waste valuable resources in a fit of pique."

"He'll be okay, eventually," Mouse said. "But it's going to be a long surgery and a long recovery."

"If there's anything you need to help his recovery, do let me know."

Every alarm Mouse knew she had, and a few new ones, blared in her mind. People like Deathstroke, the Terminator, didn't make such offers out of the kindness of their hearts. "What do you want in exchange?"

Approval glinted in his single good eye, and he reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat to withdraw a folded sheet of paper. "Everything you gave Desmond about this."

Mouse wasn't too surprised when the paper revealed a screenshot image of the vial -- that damned vial -- in the woman's hand.

"I'll expect a discount from your usual fee," Deathstroke continued, "since you've already done the work and are only giving me a copy."

"Mr. Desmond --" Mouse began, then stopped. Did she owe Desmond a single courtesy after what he did to Giz? More importantly, if Deathstroke were going after Blockbuster, did she want to get caught between the two? Desmond was a dirty nuke. Deathstroke was an exquisitely placed shaped charge.

"--has no more interest in this object." Deathstroke finished her sentence smoothly. "I promise, he won't bother you about this."

From anyone else, the promise would've been laughable, meaningless. Strangely, though, Mouse believed him. Still -- "Your promise is your price."

"Pardon?"

"You said you want a discount. This is as cheap as it gets. Your promise is your price. If Desmond, or anyone connected with him, ever comes after me and Giz for what I'm giving you about the vial, you handle the problem at no charge."

"You have my word, provided that you don't show anyone else this information and you have no further involvement with the vial."

Mouse controlled the urge to laugh. The last thing she wanted was to get near Desmond or his vial again. "I'll show you what I have right now and then transmit a copy to whatever address you give me. Then I'm going to destroy it. We're getting out of this business."

"Then we have an understanding."

"There isn't much." She reached into a pocket and offered him her ear buds. Moments later, she'd opened her laptop and played the clip she'd snatched from Oracle's database.

She hadn't expected him to react to what he saw, but satisfaction flickered across his face as he returned her ear buds. "I have no need of a copy, thank you. I do have need of one other thing."

Mouse paused as she was about to delete the archived copy of the video clip. "I said we're getting out of this business."

"Then consider my payment for this as seed money for your retirement." Deathstroke smiled at her. Mouse supposed that smile would've been charming if she hadn't known he could kill her where she sat without any of the patients or staff being the wiser.

"What do you need?" Was she kidding herself? Would she ever be able to quit the business?

"Everything you can find on this." He withdrew his PDA and adjusted it, then held it out for her, adding, "You can scroll through the images."

Mouse took the PDA and swallowed when she saw the image of an arrow, apparently silver, laid beside a meter stick. Other photos were close-ups of the point and the nock, even of the shaft itself, which surprised her until she saw the designs etched into it.

"How soon do you need it?" she asked.

"Today."

Of course. It was always "today," never "when you feel you have everything," or even, "next week is fine, no hurry." Mouse concealed a sigh. At least the search would keep her occupied while Giz was in surgery. And, seeing that arrow made her wonder if this wasn't exactly what she and Oracle were looking for together. It really wouldn't hurt for Deathstroke to pay her for collecting information she already needed, would it?

"Okay. This one thing. But, we're done after today," she said. "You can bring me coffee, extra sugar, no cream. And I'll expect to see half the standard fee in the Cayman Islands account before I start work."

-X-

Donna tried to stay out of Dick's way as he surveyed her apartment for clues. He'd told her he was finished in the bedroom, so she was allowed to tidy up in there, but she hadn't begun that task yet. Instead, she lingered in the doorway, remembering another time when she'd had to call him for the same reason. Then, the damage had been extensive -- shattered statuary and dishes, torn sheets. This was merely toppled books, rifled drawers.

"What does it say that the burglars didn't break anything?"

"Any number of things," Dick answered, his voice echoing from the bathroom. "Maybe that they like your taste in antiques. But I'm leaning toward thinking that they knew what they were looking for and searched specifically for that."

"Presumably the vial." She had changed to a pair of black trousers and a shirt. After today, she thought she might throw out all her skirts. She slipped her hand into the front trouser pocket and squeezed the vial. She hadn't yet told Dick about her conversation with Kyle. He'd arrived in his all-business mode and set right to work. She didn't want the discussion of 'I was wrong' to happen while his mind was elsewhere.

"Presumably." Dick came out of the bathroom and frowned at the overturned items. "This kind of toss isn't Deathstroke's normal style, but everything else is clean and thorough."

"Could he be trying to throw us off?" she asked.

Dick moved in that slightly stiff, too-precise gait that usually meant he was tired, or aching, or was avoiding some topic of conversation. Donna wondered which explanation applied now.

Dick glanced up when she spoke. "Could be, if he came here before I met him in the mine. Which means he probably visited my apartment, too. But he doesn't have the vial, and never will have it, since you gave it to Kyle."

"About that … " she paused. Why was this hard? She'd come to terms with Kyle's rejection over lunch. The more he'd talked, in fact, the more convinced she'd become that she'd read the gods' hints wrong. Kyle wasn't their choice. She had yet to figure out who was. "I still have it."

There was the briefest hesitation, and the purposefully neutral tone he'd been using with her cracked when he said, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure I am." And with that, the rest of the story spilled out. She told Dick why she'd believed Kyle was the right choice, and explained the moment when she realized he didn't, and wouldn't ever, love her. Finally, she finished with, "He didn't want to spend eternity with me. Maybe no one does."

"Hey." Dick crossed the room and took her in his arms, holding her as he had so often before -- when her marriage had ended, at her son's funeral -- and she sank into his strength. "That's a big leap, from 'Kyle doesn't want eternity' to 'no one does.' Not like you."

She felt stronger here, leaning against his chest. "He was an easy answer. Everything just got more difficult when he said no."

"Easy answers aren't usually the right ones." He'd rested his head against hers, and she could feel the movement of his jaw when he spoke. "I'm just glad you realized it before you made a forever mistake."

"Maybe that's why I'm feeling low. I didn't save myself. Kyle was smart enough to know we weren't right together. But, the choice has to be mine and I'm not sure I know myself well enough to make it. I've not had great luck with relationships, in case you haven't noticed."

"That makes two of us." He sounded rueful. "Want to talk about it?"

"Yeah. I guess. I'll start." She looked up at him and read relief on his face. "When I came from Themyscira the only thing I wanted to do was prove myself as good as the boys, if not superior. I had no idea how fascinating you guys would turn out to be."

Dick chuckled. "What, you were expecting a bunch of guys you could knock over with a feather?"

"With my fist. And for the most part, I can." She lightly tapped his arm. "But, my stomach never fluttered before I looked in a guy's eyes. I never felt that shaky, hard to stand up feeling before I came here."

"It's potent," he agreed. "Makes you forget good sense."

"Sometimes." She rested her head back on his chest, listened to the beat of his heart. "But, it also teaches you that there's this whole new way to succeed or fail. I remember how envious I was of Kory. She didn't even understand a comic routine, but she got how the thing between men and women worked in a way I don't think I ever understood."

"She got part of how it worked. Not all of it."

"She did better than I did. After all, I picked Terry and she--" Her voice trailed off as she remembered where they'd been only a few hours ago. Naked. In his bed. Finishing her sentence with "she picked you" suddenly seemed unwise.

His hand came up to cup her chin. He lifted her face so that he could look in her eyes. She'd seen that intensity before, but never seen it directed toward her. And then he bent his head toward hers.

He had the perfect mouth for kissing. Donna couldn't resist it. She doubted many women could. And when their lips did meet she felt as if she were newly alive. Her fingers were more sensitive to the texture of his shirt and to the muscles beneath. She smelled the soap he'd used in his shower. She heard a low sound, a moan, and belatedly realized it was her own.

"Donna." Her name was a caress, and he played his lips over hers, teasing, before deepening the kiss once again. The hand at her chin traced her jaw to her earlobe, then cupped her head, holding her in place, possessive.

She wanted to let go, perhaps more than she ever had wanted to in the past. She wasn't concerned with showing him a playful girl or an in-charge woman. She wasn't worried about where they would go or what they would become. In that moment, she wanted only the next moment, and the one after that. This. Here. Now. Eternity be damned to Hades. And that was the danger.

A chill splash of fear made her push away from him. "We know how bad an idea this is."

He didn't let his hand fall away from her head. "We know how good an idea it is. Or can you tell me you don't wonder? That you won't look at me every day and wonder? Because I know I look at you, and I already wonder."

His words made her tremble, but the look he gave her made her squeeze her thighs together and gasp for breath. "It's hard not to wonder."

"I don't want to wonder. I want to know." Now he did let go of her head, but only to trace her cheek, her nose, her lips. "I want to know what it's like to be with you."

She wanted to suck the thumb that brushed her lips, but resisted, not to discourage but to make him chase just a little more. There was something irresistible about the desire in his eyes, something she'd never seen in any man's gaze before. There was the slightest quiver in his touch, as if he could barely contain himself, and she wanted to test that, too. It wasn't kind of her, but she couldn't help herself. "Tell me. Tell me what you want to be with me."

He'd been standing still, but now his whole being seemed to pause, unguarded. The walls he'd erected earlier crumbled, and Donna sensed she could move as close to him as she chose in this moment. His only movement was the thumb lightly brushing her lower lip, his gaze locked on hers. "A friend, a companion, a lover. Whatever you'll let me be."

"A lover. I like that word." She leaned up. She kissed his mouth. He allowed the kiss to be light, waiting for her choice. "I don't want to wonder."

He released the breath she hadn't realized he'd held, and a smile she'd never seen before spread across his face. Then he cupped her face in both hands and kissed her again. This time, it was as though he wanted to melt her, when before she'd melted of her own accord.

Her knees went weak. She clutched him. And instantly worried she'd crush his ribs. "We have to make sure I don't hurt you. I don't want to ever hurt you." She meant that more than just physically. She wanted this time together to be good. She never wanted him to regret it.

"What would make you comfortable?" That was Dick, more concerned for her than for himself. Though how he managed to sound so reasonable when he was nibbling at her earlobe was just one more mystery about him.

"I--" Gods, his teeth felt interesting "--lost control before. I couldn't think. I just wanted to feel you on top of me, pressing me down. Maybe I shouldn't be allowed to touch you." She couldn't hold back the thought, or the words, but then, with him, she'd never had to.

"Well, that's right out," he said. "Because I want to feel you undress me."

He made her laugh, and she loved him for it. The laughter chased away her fear.

"Is that so?" Before he could answer she fisted her hands in the back of his shirt and tore it open, straight up the back. "Like that?"

"God, yes." There was laughter in his eyes. "But I do need the jeans if I'm to leave here with any dignity."

"I'll buy you new ones." The thought of stripping him completely that way was heady, uncontrolled, a new Donna. "But, when we get to the place I lose my mind, I want you to hold my hands. Don't let me hurt you."

He shrugged out of the remains of his T-shirt. "I didn't know you were into bondage, but okay."

"I don't know if I am. I think I'm becoming someone new." Someone who could keep a man, but that thought terrified her too much to pursue it. "I want to find her with you."

"Good thing I'm a detective." And then he grinned wickedly, and before she realized his intent, ripped her shirt open down the front.

"We'll have to discuss it." She loved that they could laugh and be erotic at the same time. "But not now. Right now, I want to do something else with your mouth."

-X-

Dick knew Donna only wanted him today. But, he wouldn't complain. If he was good enough today, she'd want him tomorrow, and enough tomorrows added up to forever.

To judge by her soft moans and cries as he explored her body, he was well on his way to good enough. She wasn't touching him back, much, because she was still afraid of hurting him, but he savored every touch and caress she offered him. He'd remember them long after today.

She'd still hesitated to touch his still-bruised shoulder, but as they found their way to the bed he'd encouraged her to play and explore. "Only until I lose my mind," she'd reminded him. He laughed and told her that it was good she had so much faith in him, that she'd lose her mind before he lost his.

He played his tongue down her neck and over the swell of her shoulder. Their clothing had long ago found its way to the floor, but he was in no hurry to move down her body. He'd always found the less overt parts of a woman sexy -- her shoulders, her wrists, and the points of her hips, the backs of her knees where the skin was exceptionally soft and a kiss was guaranteed to produce a giggle. With Donna he wanted to take longer than normal. He'd been in a hurry the last time and he'd forgotten to memorize her. He hadn't known then that he might need to.

Now, while he hoped for more, he knew to savor, to etch every moment into his memory.

She shivered when he trailed his tongue down her sternum, the closest he'd come to her breasts. A moan followed when he scraped his teeth over the indentation of her waist and down to her hip bone. Her hands tangled in his hair and he turned his head to lick the inside of her wrist.

"I want you." It was an echo of what she'd said before, and he smiled as he turned his attention back to her lower body, moving down her thigh to her knee.

"I want you," he whispered back. He couldn't say he loved her, not now, but he could try to show her by how he touched her.

Fingers first, massaging her calf, then her thigh. He kissed the inside of her knee and enjoyed how her body arched toward him. It was a silent request as potent as her verbal one. A kiss to her inner thigh allowed him to feel the pulse under her skin.

"Yes," she encouraged. He told her, "In time."

She made a noise that might've been a scream of frustration and he nipped at her in response. Then down again, tickling her knees and stroking her calves. She had the most amazing legs -- firm and muscular, but all female and soft at the same time. He trailed one finger up the sole of her foot.

Her toes flexed. He wanted to learn all those small responses, but that might take more time than she'd give him. She caught his hair in one hand. Briefly, he felt her fingernails against his scalp. But, she released him all too quickly. "Please, Dick, hold me down. I'm afraid."

He moved up her body, pressed his against hers. "Don't be afraid, Donna. I'm not."

He kissed her and shifted position so that he nudged against her opening. He'd put the condom on before he'd begun his exploration of her body, just to be prepared for whenever she might lose her mind, and now he teased her there while he twined his fingers with hers and pressed her hands down into the pillow on either side of her head.

She kept her eyes open, he noticed, staring at him directly as if she too were committing this to memory. Her fingers flexed around his and she pushed her body up against his, insistent and eager. He loved that.

And then he was inside her, the moment of entry lost in the haze of sensation that was Donna. Her scent of sea and grass, her taste of honey, her skin like velvet -- how could he not lose himself in her?

When her legs embraced him, he moved against her, slowly, savoring each thrust as if it might be the last. His gaze locked with hers, and he heard her moan, more a purr. Yes. This moment was the one he wanted to last forever, the one he would remember.

She moved against him, harder than any other woman he remembered. Her roughness encouraged him, forced him to growl and thrust. Her body squeezed him, so tight, so good. His thoughts narrowed to the sweet, wet embrace of her body, the rub of her skin, the sharp, eager cries in his ears.

Faster, harder, because she liked it that way. Still he had to hold back, had to make sure she enjoyed it, so there would be a tomorrow and a tomorrow, and enough tomorrows to build a forever. His shoulders bunched with the strain, and he bent to bite at her collarbone.

"Dick, please," she begged. He shifted forward a little so he could pleasure her better, and he felt her first shudder, then the next. Her hands flexed in his. Her nails bit. He didn't mind. Her body was clutching his, and he was close, so close. The pressure made his scalp tighten, his skin tingle. He clenched his teeth. Holding, holding, holding, until she broke against him in a shivering, arching release.

His own release was only a thrust away, and he caught her mouth with his as his body tensed. For several seconds, he was frozen with pleasure, the sensations flooding through him beneath rigid muscles. He heard ragged breaths, realized they were his own, and released one hand to pull her closer and bury his face against her. "Donna."

He was still tingling as she stroked his back with her free hand. Yet, his mind had already moved forward. Would she tell him her curiosity was satisfied? Would she look at him with the same gaze he'd seen before, the gaze that said "I'm leaving" without words? If she did would he be stoic and simply nod, pretend this was all he'd wanted? Or would he embarrass himself by begging? In those first moments after climax he wasn't at all sure. He lay in her arms quiet and waiting for her breathing to calm and her heartbeat to steady.

"Dick?"

"What is it?" He turned to look at her face to face. Maybe he hoped that would make rejection harder for her. Or, maybe he just wanted to see her every second he could.

"I'm going to let you take the vial to Deathstroke."

Half a dozen replies occurred to him in as many seconds. None of them were appropriate for the trust she'd just given him.

"I won't let you down," he said finally.