A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And again to AQ :D Right - I'd like to point out that this is chapter 5, and that the first two chapters were all Terry, so yes, it's Sarah again, but have patience - Nick's coming.

Chapter Five—System Shock

Sarah sat up fully, putting a hand to her head as a rush of dizziness swarmed her vision briefly. It passed quickly though. She got up, and limped over to where her father was, over by the mini-fridge, pipetting a few drops of Terry's blood into a petri dish. He handed it to her silently, and she put a lid on it and placed it on the top shelf.

"I'll log it in the system later," she said. "It'll be good to have his bloodtype and DNA on file for future reference." Sarah attempted a wry smile. "Just in case we have a visitor from the League and they do something that needs them a blood transfusion."

The joke fell flat when both of her parents glared at her, Diana having just joined them. "Not funny, child," Diana snapped. "Don't think you're not in trouble just because you're injured."

"You know the rules, Sarah," Bruce added. "Terry may have been out, but neither he nor I had any clue you were even in the city until you managed to get that distress call out to us." He gave her a significant glare. "You were extremely lucky, but I want to know why you did it."

Sarah tightened her lips. She'd been pissed, that was why. Her brush with death hadn't erased what she had seen and heard back at the Metro Tower. Still, Sarah also knew that the excuse of wanting to beat a Kryptonian witch's face to a pulp for moving in on something that had been exclusively hers for her entire life wasn't going to fly.

Fortunately, she was saved from answering by her brother shoving past their mother to get to her. She was a little gratified he looked shaken. Oh goodie, Sarah thought sourly. I suppose I should be happy that me nearly getting killed was enough to drag him away from sniffing around Krypto Girl's skirt.

She refused to let her anger toward him soften because her twin was looking almost as pale as she was. She didn't deny herself the little surge of vindictive pleasure she felt at his obvious worry, or the fact that he flew down rather than bothering with the stairs. "Sarah? Thank the gods you're alright! What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"Some scumbag got lucky," she answered shortly.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

Bruce sent a sideways glare at his daughter, which she deflected with a smile. He relented, and handed her a cotton-wool ball to press against the slightly bleeding pin-prink in the crook of her elbow.

"...is that it?" Nick asked dubiously. "You're 'fine'?"

"Yup."

She bent and got the sample of Terry's blood back out of the fridge. She walked over to the lab area, preparing to analyse his DNA with it. Or pretend to, at any rate. She just did not feel like facing her twin right now. "Okay, you're obviously not fine," Nick said cautiously, moving toward her.

Behind the twins, Diana gestured toward Bruce with her head, up the stairs. Quietly, the couple snuck upstairs, leaving their children to thrash it out. She didn't know what her son had done to annoy his sister, but she'd rarely seen Sarah that pissed off. Usually it was when Michaela Kent was somehow involved. Come to think of it...

"I do hope Nicholas hasn't done anything foolish," she said to Bruce once they'd made it to the kitchen.

"What makes you think he's done something?" he asked, moving over to the cupboards and pulling out some ingredients to begin dinner. Or breakfast, given that the sun was peeking just over the treetops outside. "Get the mince out of the fridge would you, Princess?"

"Just thinking about how angry Sarah seemed," she said as she opened the fridge. "Are you making what I think you're making?"

"Yes."

Diana got eggs out too. He was making meatballs – Sarah's favourite. Apparently his anger at her disobeying the rules by going out alone had faded in the face of his relief. Diana could understand that. Over the years she'd gone through this scenario many times; first with her husband coming back from Gotham injured and then with her children, and it never got easier or less dreadful when it did happen. And the relief never felt less glorious.

Bruce passed her the herbs, and she set about forming the meatballs while he prepared the sauce. Both of them had an ear out for shouting coming from downstairs, but so far there was nothing. So far.

Nick folded his arms and glared. "Why didn't you tell me you were going patrolling?"

"It's nothing I can't handle," she said shortly. "Dad used to do it all the time, and Terry was out too."

"Yeah, but... I could have come with you," Nick pointed out.

"Well, I thought Smallville might be more your scene," she snarled. "That's where all the Kryptonians hang out, right?"

Not giving him a chance to reply, she got up and pushed past him, putting Terry's blood sample back before heading up the stairs. Nick put a hand to his forehead. "Tell me this is not about Michaela," he groaned.

"Oh, it's not about Michaela, Nick."

That made him stop. What? Everybody else in the world called him Nick, but coming from Sarah it just...sounded wrong. Seeing that she hadn't stopped stomping up the stairs, he lifted into the air and landed in front of his sister. "Since when have you called me Nick?"

"Since she started calling you Nicky," she spat, shoving him out of the way. And off the edge of the stairs. He wasn't sure if she'd remembered he could fly.

He hovered in the air for a moment, cursing himself inwardly, and then went after her.

Sarah was able to get upstairs to her bedroom relatively quickly, though her stomach was aching by the time she did so. Still, her seething anger was enough to make the pain bearable enough that she didn't have to go back down to the Cave for painkillers. Getting a shower was out, so she settled for grabbing a few washcloths and cleaning herself up as best she could. Checking her bandages one final time, she then changed into a t-shirt and shorts, intending to just collapse in her bed.

That is, until the intercom by her door went off. Raising an eyebrow, she walked over to it and opened the channel. "Yeah?"

"Sarah, come eat something," her mother said.

"Mom, I'm not really hungry."

"You were just stabbed, young lady. You need to keep your strength up. Get down here. We have meatballs."

She perked up a bit. "Oh. Okay." Not even bothering with her slippers or robe, Sarah padded barefoot out of her room and back toward the stairs. As she came back down to the first floor, her nose picked up the familiar scent of meatballs. Her stomach immediately began to growl.

Sarah grinned and kept moving toward the kitchen, ignoring the continued ache in her abdomen. Coming to a halt in the kitchen doorway, she leaned to the side and crossed her arms. "You do realize that it's seven-thirty in the morning and you're offering me meatballs?" she asked wryly. "Alfred would be having fits."

Daddy was setting plates and utensils on the table while Mom was at the stove, keeping watch over the simmering sauce. Dad snorted knowingly, but Mom said, "Well, you probably would have ignored me if we'd cooked anything else. Meatballs are the one food that would get you down here."

Sarah rolled her eyes, but didn't deny the charge. "I'm getting predictable," she grumbled, then moved forward into the kitchen.

As Diana began spooning the concoction onto a plate, she asked, "Where's your brother?"

Sarah speared the first meatball with her fork before it had hit the plate. She stabbed it with her fork, using perhaps a modicum more force than was necessary, but then she was imagining it was Michaela's head. "Kansas probably," she replied sourly.

Dad sat opposite her with a frown. "Kansas?"

"Oh yeah – he and Superbitch are an item now," she said in falsely-light tone. "Pass the parmesan."

Diana's shoulders slumped slightly; she knew it had to have something to do with Michaela. "How long has that been going on?" she asked.

Sarah snorted. "With Nick, who knows? A month, two? It could have been going on for less than a day and he would have been able to charm his way into her panties. Of course I wouldn't put it past her to let every guy into her panties," she added in a mutter, "who –"

"Sarah!" Her mother's sharp reprimand cut through her insult.

"Sorry." Sarah returned to her food, figuring she'd made her point. "Officially, they've been together two weeks."

"So why did it take you till now to get so pissed off you decided to try and kill yourself?" Dad asked. "And for that matter, why have you suddenly begun calling him 'Nick'?"

"Well apparently 'Nicky' is now Michaela's pet name for him," she spat, lip curling.

There was a silence from both her parents. Sarah looked down at her plate. She didn't really feel like meatballs anymore. She did feel like going to punch Michaela in the face, but unless she took the Kryptonite ring out of the vault – something she knew not to do unless there was an emergency of 'Superman's gone batshit crazy again' proportions – that would really hurt. She pushed her food around, feeling increasingly like she was six years old again.

Suddenly Nick appeared in the doorway, looking decidedly out of breath. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you! Would you not run off when I'm trying to–"

"Thanks for dinner, Mom, I think I'm going to eat it upstairs." She kissed her mother on the cheek, then picked up her plate, stopping to repeat the gesture for her dad. "Night, Daddy."

Nose firmly in the air, she marched straight past her brother without looking at him, and without acknowledging the fact that she'd probably need more painkillers before she went to bed, as her wound was burning quite badly now. "Sarah! Would you just talk to me?" Nick implored, following her. "Look, I'm sorry about–"

Sarah reached her room, put her plate down on her desk and glared at him. "I'm tired. Get out."

"No, not until you let me apol–"

"It doesn't matter, Nick!" she snapped. "It's none of my business who you let call you what. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, but it clearly does matter," he argued, "since you're really upset–"

She held up a finger. "Oh, angry. Never confuse angry with upset."

"Why are you so angry, it's just a nickname–"

"No, Nick, it's not about the fucking moniker, she can call you 'sack of shit' for all I care! Whatever makes you happy and gives you the strength to stand her company for more than thirty seconds," Sarah said, her voice increasing in volume with each sentence. "Just tell me one thing. Of all the vapid, shallow, dimwitted, air-headed, brainless bimbos you've dated, why does she get to be the one who calls you Nicky? You've never let anyone else call you that. Not Mom, not Dad, not Dick or Tim, or even Alfred when we were kids! And all of a sudden Miss Girl Scout appears and–"

"Maybe Michaela's different to the others!" he protested. A blatant lie, they both knew, but when under attack his automatic reaction had always been to fight fire with fire.

"Good!" Sarah yelled. "Then move to Smallville and have a dozen kids and listen to her dulcet tones calling you 'Nicky' all day every day, because–"

"Argh! Ok, Sarah, I get it, I'm sorry!" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he repeated in a softer tone. "I know it's our thing, and I should have realised it would hurt you if I let Michaela use it too. Truthfully... I didn't really notice."

"How can you not notice?" she asked sadly.

"I don't know. I just didn't. I won't let her or anyone else call it me again, I swear. I'm sorry, Sarah."

Finally she nodded. "Apology accepted."

He hugged her gently, remembering her injury. "Oh, but do me one favour?"

"What?"

"Never call me 'Nick' again. Coming from you it just sounds weird."

She laughed. 'Deal."

He let go of her, then dived immediately for one of her meatballs. Sarah slapped his hand away. "Get your own!"

"Haven't you ever heard of sharing?" he teased.

"Not when it comes to meatballs I haven't! Get your own, Mom and Dad made loads!"

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going!"

Alone now, Sarah tucked into her dinner/breakfast with gusto, slurping down the spaghetti and scoffing the meatballs whole. She would never have eaten Alfred's meatballs like this, of course, but as much as she loved her parents, these weren't Alfred's meatballs. There was only one person alive in the whole world who knew that recipe, and she was in this room. She'd let secrets of national security out before she'd leak that recipe, and woe betide anyone who tried to steal it. However, these meatballs were wonderful just the same, even if wonderful wasn't perfection.

Leaving the pasta bowl on her nightstand, she blacked out the window and crawled into bed. Exhaustion wasn't slow to follow her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

…and was woken up what felt like five minutes later (apparently six hours according to her alarm clock) by her cell blaring. Deciding to ignore it, she waited until it went to voice mail and closed her eyes again. She was too warm and too comfortable to wake up now.

A few minutes later, she heard the house phone ring, and it was followed by her mother's soft knock on the door. "Sarah, are you awake? Kyra's on the phone–she sounds worried."

Sarah extended an arm out of the duvet, not bothering to even uncover her head; Diana chuckled and pressed it into her hand. "Hey Ky," she yawned.

"Finally! Are you okay? Mike said you'd been injured and that Nick just ran off without saying how bad you were-"

"'Mike' is it now? Looks like you don't waste time."

"Be serious, Sarah! I was worried here!"

Over the phone line, she heard another voice; male, deep. Stomach-twistingly familiar. "Is that her? Is she alright? Lemme talk to her!"

"That's what I was asking, Rex, you can have the phone after I'm done, just hold on a minute, would you? Jeez!" Kyra spoke again. "So? Details, Sarah!"

"I'm fine. Just a small stab wound. It'll heal pretty quickly, and I'm not in much pain or anything."

"You got stabbed? How did you let that happen?"

"I didn't let it happen," Sarah bristled. "I might've let my temper get the best of me. But I'm fine, I promise."

"Yeah well you better stay fine. I'm coming over tomorrow with chocolate and chick flicks. Fastest way to heal."

Sarah grinned. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Okay, Rex, she's all yours!"

Sarah found herself very glad that over a phone line she couldn't be caught blushing. When Rex's voice came over the line, she had to throw back the duvet, now too warm. "Sarah? How you feeling?"

"I'm alright, honestly. It hurt at the time, I'll admit that."

"Nothing vital got hit?"

"Nope. Just a lot of blood. Got messy, and I needed a transfusion. Terry stepped in."

"Batboy? Remind me to thank him next time he's on the Watchtower."

"Why should you have to thank him?" she asked, knowing that she was grinning stupidly right about now. "Oh, and I wouldn't call him that to his face."

"Oh I don't know – maybe you're right. Saving the life of one of my best friends isn't exactly anything special," Rex replied dryly, and she could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

She laughed. "Alright, you can thank him. You coming with Kyra tomorrow?"

"You mean for the chick-flick marathon? Gee, tempting as that sounds, Sarah…"

"…you'll see me in the Metro or Watchtower?"

"Pretty much. Take care, Sarah. Try not to get stabbed again."

She rolled her eyes. "Noted. Bye, Rex."

"Bye."

Putting the phone down, she stretched languidly and glanced at the clock. It really was time she got up. She had things to do. Most pressingly track down Kingsleigh all over again thanks to Supergirl. And, of course, put Terry's DNA into the computer.

After changing her bandages with some supplies she kept in her room, Sarah dressed and grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen on her way down to the Cave, then booted up the computer and initiated the search programme she'd written to track Kingsleigh down the first time. It should still work; it was based on tracking the faint radioactive pulses that any League technology gave off. Obviously every League member had a com-link and transporter – some also had mother-boxes now – and obviously they were all known to Reaper and her family. All the computer had to do was to track down a piece of technology that didn't have a corresponding Leaguer attached to it.

While it was busy doing that, she moved over to the lab area and got Terry's blood out of the fridge. She'd analysed so many blood-samples over the years that she worked automatically, not really paying any attention to what she was doing. She looked up when the computer beeped, signaling that it had found an anomaly. Two, in fact. One was in the deepest Amazon rainforest, the other was in Dubai. She'd bet her ridiculous trust-fund Kingsleigh was in the latter location.

"Gotcha, you bastard," she muttered, grinning evilly.

The grin vanished when the computer programme working on her second task also beeped. She frowned as she looked at the screen. "DNA match found?" she read. "What in Tartarus…?" Had Terry's parents been criminals at some point or something? Didn't seem likely – at least not what she knew of Mary McGinnis. Maybe Warren had had a record in his younger days?

She sat down and clicked on the result, bringing up a new window. Her jaw dropped. "Great Hera! That's impossible!"

A/N: Review please!