He's afraid.
Not of the dark. He's spent days in darkness. Days in caverns. Days in tunnels scarcely larger than his body. He even had to dig himself out a coffin death trap once from six foot underground.
No, the dark has no terror for him now.
It's what's he's waiting for. Why he's sitting alone, hating himself. Hating himself for failing—for breaking the promise he had made to his wife when she lay dying in his arms.
He failed Paula. Failed his girls.
They creep through the window like pros. That was one of the first things that tipped him off—that the window opened as smooth as silk when he was doing some spring cleaning. From there it was checking their stuff—finding the false bottom … their gear …
I'm sorry, Paula.
They don't hear him.
They're good. They're damn good, but they're just kids.
He waits till Artemis is through the window … slower than her sister, less sure … before he turns on the light. "Bang. You're both dead."
Jade is wearing a dark green outfit, and the cat's mask that her mother had given her for last birthday. The mask hides her face and her voice doesn't give any more away. "Hello, Daddy Dearest."
Artemis is carrying her bow. She's also wearing a dark green outfit, but she's wearing a cut down version of his own mask. "Daddy?"
"Yes, baby girl. Thought you were going to be a tiger."
Artemis takes her mask off and looks at him. "Jade had dibs on that. I call myself Sport."
"Not Sportsmaster?" He almost smiles. Almost.
"Not yet. I haven't earned it."
"You're not going to. You're done."
"No." Jade took off her mask. "No we're not."
"This is what I wanted for you. This isn't what your mother wanted for you."
"Don't we get a say in how our lives are to be lived, Daddy Dearest?"
"No. No you don't. Don't you know where this path leads? The Life may seem fun, but it leads just one way … and that's six foot under. I won't have that for you. I won't."
"Daddy …" Artemis sets her bow down and grabs his hands. "We're not trying to get into The Life. We're trying to help people."
He blinks. "What did you say?"
Jade sits down in a chair across from him, lounging with the irritating manner that only a teenage girl possesses. "That's right, Daddy. We're on the side of the angels." Her lips quirk in a smile. "More or less."
"Did The Bat put you up to this?" He hadn't been happy when Batman had started putting kids on the streets, but he'd held his tongue, but gratitude only went so far. If The Bat thought he'd put his girls on the line then (chair or no) he'd kick that caped behind of his all the way to Gotham and back …
"No, Daddy. We decided this. We want this. We need it." Artemis looked at him earnestly. "If we show the League how good you're raising us, then we don't have to worry about them putting you away when I'm older …"
And that was his youngest …
"It doesn't work that way, baby girl." He touches her cheek. "You can't buy forgiveness … not for yourself … not for someone else."
"It's not just for that."
His oldest. Of course he knew that was not her reason. "Oh?"
"Do you really think the League can protect us from the Shadows forever? Sure, The Bat is using your Intel to take down a cell here or there, but you know that Ra's will never give up. The more the League succeeds, the more determined he's going to be to take revenge. And even if they would, do you seriously think we'd let them?" Jade glares at him, and he finds himself smiling.
It's the first time he's seen the old Jade back since he lost his legs.
"We're Crocks, Daddy Dearest. We are your children—and hers. Do you seriously think we'll let someone else control our destinies the rest of our lives? No one can do that—not the League. Not the Shadows. Not The Bat—not even you."
"You have two choices, Daddy," Artemis whispered, trying her best to sound tough like her big sister. "You can try to rein us in—and you know that won't work. Or …"
"Or?" He knows what she's going to say, but he wants her to say it.
"You can train us again. You can help us become what we're meant to be, Daddy," and this time it's Jade who speaks … Jade who surprises him. "I know what Mom wanted. I know what you want. You want us to be safe. We both know that. And we both love you for that … but that's not who we are."
"We don't belong to that world, Dad," Artemis' eyes are large and filled with tears. "I know it'd make things so much easier for us all if we were—but we'll never be able to lead normal lives. We were meant for this." She holds up her mask in one hand, her bow in the other. "We were meant to do the things that ordinary people can't or won't do. Help us, Daddy.
"Help us be who we're meant to be."
And Lawrence Crock looks at his girls—his precious, beautiful girls—and he feels another stab of guilt. If they weren't his children—if his blood didn't run through their veins—then they could have all the things he wanted for them. They could have the nice safe careers, the nice safe lives … they could turn their back on the night, and grow up and grow old never having to face all the terrible things, all the terrible people, that he knows are part of his world.
But they are his. His children and Paula's. And he cannot change that …
I'm sorry, Paula.
And he makes the only decision he can.