I'M SO SORRY! I SAID GCSES, BUT I DIDN'T REALISE THEY'D BE THIS BAD! If you want to kill me, just say in a review... (hint hint wink wink nudge nudge). Thanks for all the support, and disclaimer see chapter one...

"No!" Anwen screamed, jumping out of the vent. Her head was fuzzy. Her memories had started trickling in like a dripping tap as soon as she had seen the heroes, and now the dam had burst. She leapt forward, putting pressure on Sarah's stomach wound.

"Sarah, Sarah, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," she sobbed, as Cleos bloody hand came to rest on her cheek.

"Anwen. It was my own choice to make. Just, just promise me one thing. Promise me you'll always remember," and slowly and gently, after Anwens panicked nod, the life left Sarah's dark brown eyes.

Anwen frowned, wobbling as she climbed to her feet. Tear tracks carved their way through the red handprint on her left cheek.

"Father," she frowned, "you'll pay for that."

He laughed. "And what are you going to do?"

Anwen frowned, glaring at him from below lowered lids. "Oh, you know, just the usual. Maiming. Seriously injuring. Paralyzing. Putting you in a coma," she shrugged.

"No killing?" Her father cocked an eyebrow, a smirk resting on his lips.

"Isn't it your lucky day?" She growled, lunging forwards. She clung around his neck, her short nails scrabbling for a hold. Jonathan grunted, swinging her in a circle, throwing her into the wall.

"I don't want to hurt you, Anwen," he whispered.

"You lied!" She scrambled to her feet, glancing at the Bat family standing in the corner of the room with Sarah.

Sarah's corpse.

"You killed her!" Anwen pointed to her dead friend, "the same way you inadvertently killed Mum, the same way you killed the old me, the same way you killed my real father."

"I am your real father," he hissed, stalking forwards.

"No. You have never been, and you never will. Who was there to teach me to swim? To ride a bike? To stand by my mother as she raised me? Who are you, Stranger?"

Nightwing stepped forward, close range taser at the ready, yet was thrown away like a rag doll when Lawson spun around.

"Stay out of this, boy," he spat, kicking Nightwing in the ribs.

"See, Lawson? You kill and hurt my friends, you smile at my pain. Is Lawson even your real name?" Anwen sighed, helping Nightwing to his feet.

"Three."

"What?" Anwen asked, taken aback.

"Two."

"Lawson," she threatened, hand going to the knife in her belt. She didn't want to hurt him, but if worst came to worst...

"One," he grinned a malicious grin, bringing back yet more memories of her time with the original Robin in Jokers cell.

"Check on your little kiddie friends now. Up in orbit, aren't they? High chance of falling heroes then. Better check the weather!" Slamming his fist into a brick in the wall beside him, the small section of the wall slid to the side. He leaped in, Anwen following quickly behind. The door shut in her face.

"What? Nightwing, radio the Watchtower," Anwen ordered, pressing the brick repeatedly.

"Nothing. Nothing but static," Robin shook his head, having already tried.

"Static isn't good enough!" Anwen screamed, punching the wall. It didn't even dent, but the blood spilling from her knuckles showed how hard she had hit.

"Anwen," Nightwing whispered, gathering her into a hug as she sobbed.

"No," she pushed away after a minute and her tears had stopped. "We," she gestured to herself and Nightwing, "are not together." Batgirl and Robin scuttled from the room like a pair of scared cockroaches, taking what used to be Sarah with them. They quickly radioed all contactable heroes to meet them at the Hall of Justice.

"We could be," Nightwing removed his mask, his eyes shining with the ghosts of what they used to be.

Ghosts, Anwen reminded herself, that's all they were.

"We aren't," she shook her head. "We broke up."

"We were stressed at the time, with the Reach. And we were getting on fine in China."

"That was then."

Nightwing sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You know what Anwen? I don't care what your reaction is to this."

And that was when he leant in and kissed her.

She couldn't help it. Combined with the fact he was kissing her, she still had feelings for him, and he was the Dick Grayson, Gothams most eligible young bachelor, she realised she was kissing him back.

"Why are we doing this?" She breathed, resting her forehead against his.

"You know why," he whispered, before kissing her again.

It may have been her imagination, but did he whisper the sentence? He couldn't of, could he? He couldn't have said the three words that meant the world to her, only said to her by friends and family?

"I love you."