A/N: Here's the next one. Took a little longer than I thought. It was running a little long on me. And the fact that I've written this chapter a couple times now probably doesn't help. (Darn computer.) I hope you guys like this one! It's 2:30 in the morning and now I'm going to drag myself to bed. With any luck chapter 15 will be early! (A lot going on in that one, you'll get the gist I'm sure.)


Jason. Only a handful of good moments even exist between us. Such small things, things a then fourteen-year-old boy didn't know how to treasure. Or for that matter, a four year old would know to miss. There was no love lost between the pair of us. At times I'm sure we loved to hate one another. Almost as if that was a game in itself.

But I'm going to tell you a secret, a secret I'm sure Jason thought he had kept to himself. Despite all the animosity, the terrible words we said to each other or even the agonizing silences, Jason always looked out for me. Of course, looking back on it now, it seems as plain as day. But guilt often speaks volumes when nothing is being said at all.

My first December at Wayne Manor was the coldest I've ever known. I remember feeling excited as I stood there shivering at my window, watching the snow as it sparkled in the breaking light. To my four year old self, it was a winter wonderland made of big fat snow snowflakes and gleaming ice. Through the leafless trees I could see the glint of the ice on the pond, and just like that I was with my mother again.

I could feel her hands on mine; I could feel the cold nipping at my nose. If I closed my eyes at just the right moment, I could still feel that ticklish feeling of glee fluttering around in my stomach when she would spin me in circles.

The memories were all it took to get me rifling through my closet for my ice skates. I crept from my room, finding my way in dusky light, trying with all my might to keep from making a sound. I crouched on the staircase, watching the shadows flicker across the light that spilled from the kitchen. Alfred. I tiptoed down the stairs, shoes in one hand, and the ice skates over my shoulder. The second my feet touched the floor I made a dash for the door. I stood there with the knob in my hands, so sure that Alfred would catch me when I didn't hear the sound of dishes clinking anymore. But just as soon as the activity stopped, the soft clamor began again. The knob twisted soundlessly beneath my gloves. The instant the door was open wide enough I slid out into the icy world, with none the wiser.

I was clear. Pushing my feet into my boots, I all but plowed my way into the fresh drifts of snow, twisting and twirling as if I were nothing more than a snow flake myself drifting down to this frozen world. When I was far enough away from the house, I plopped down right there, feeling my body sink in the icy fluff. Above me there was nothing but clouds and the swirls of flakes that floated through the air. I was so fixated on the little specks, that when I felt someone nudge me with the toe of their boot, I jumped.

"Seriously, Pipsqueak?" Jason's jeans were damp up to his knees. Even in this twilight, I could tell that his hands and ears were red and raggedy. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

I flopped back down in the snow. "What's it look like?" I asked snippily, bringing my arms up and down to my sides, feeling the snow compact beneath me. Jason just tilted his head at me, watching me as I peeled myself off the ground to inspect my handiwork.

"Needs horns."

"Nuh-uh! Make your own!" I told him, shoving him away when he bent down to doodle in the snow. For a long moment he just stood there and stared at me.

"Like this." I said, flopping down into a fresh canvas of snow. The boy sighed, and turned away, I was certain he'd march himself right back to the house, leaving me in peace, but he just stood there, staring at the snow covered ground. When he finally slumped down, I couldn't help it, I think I grinned at the sky.

"This is stupid. You know that, right?"

"So…you're doing something stupid, what else is new?" The second the words left me in little wispy clouds, I was hit in the face with a clump of mushy snow. Instinct told me to retaliate, even if my hands could only hold a quarter of what he threw at me. Needless to say, when the snow hit his coat, it sounded like nothing more than rain on a canvas.

"Weak." He called, tossing more snow in my direction. I don't know how long we carried on like throwing miscellaneous snowballs as the sound of our coats sliding across the snow filled the silence.

I was dusting myself off, trying to ignore the feeling of snow melting underneath my jacket. Jason was just standing there, staring at the ground, the fresh snowfall powdering hair. I could see the scorn rolling across his face as he eyed the shape his body left behind. He immediately stomped across it.

"I can't make angels." He said, the bitterness dripping from his voice like poison. He started stalking his way back toward the manor, and I, I could only stand there, watching him grow smaller the further he wandered away, unsure of what to make of his display. When I couldn't see him anymore, I forced myself into the trees, leaving our imprints there in the slush as I tried to shake it off.

The second I slid onto the ice, Jason was forgotten. The wind was nibbling on my ears, as I glided across the surface. Unlike the places I was used to, the ice wasn't smooth as glass. It was bumpy and ridged beneath my blades. But I continued anyway, shakily catching myself when I thought I was going to hit the ice face first.

I could imagine her with me. It was as if I was chasing her ghost around that pond, tricking myself into seeing her when a ray of clouded light would slip through the barren branches. The air was enough to make my throat ache, if I slowed down I'm sure I would have noticed how numb my face and hands were feeling. I should have stopped long ago, but the bliss…I couldn't let it go. I didn't want to. I hadn't let myself be happy in those last few months, and now it was just overwhelming. But as my delight grew, so did my over confidence. All it took was a simple stumble to remind me what my recklessness wrought.

I don't remember what it felt like when I hit the ice. I do remember the prick of panic I felt when I heard the ice begin to crack. "No." I slowly wobbled to my feet, unsure of how to move, now that the smooth surface was splintering beneath me. I remember trying to edge my way toward the shore, but then the ice gave away completely. I don't even think I had time to scream.

My breath seemed to leave me instantly when I fell into the water's icy grasp. It was if I was being stabbed over and over. No matter how I struggled to reach the light that pierced through ice, the water just got darker and darker. My skate was tangled in the debris on the pond floor, and no matter how I pulled I couldn't yank it free. My lungs burned, begging me to take a breath. As the last bubble burst from me, a gray sort of light broke into the darkness.

I don't remember Jason cutting the laces of my boot, I just remember him pushing me toward the surface. He shoved me back through the opening, letting my lungs take a deep ragged breath. Before I knew it, he was lifting me out of the water before climbing out himself. All I could do was sit there and cough as I spat up water.

"You little idiot!" He snapped at me, biting on his lips to keep his teeth from chattering.

Jason forced me to my feet and started pushing me toward the house. I was still stumbling in the snow when I heard a clatter from inside. Alfred came flying out the door. "Good Heavens!" He cried, snatching me up. Jason wasn't behind me; he was nowhere to be seen.

"What were you doing out there?!"

"J-just s-s-skating." I stammered, trying to control my shivering. I was shaking so hard it made my muscles ache. Alfred threw yet another blanket on top of me.

"Stick another blanket on her and you're going to suffocate the squirt."

I eyed Jason as he moseyed into the living room and threw himself on the couch. His clothes were dry; his hair was damp and smelling of soap. Alfred only scoffed at him. "I'm going to fetch some warm water bottles. Don't move from this spot." He instructed, pointing his bony finger at the floor. The second he left the room, I reared my head up at the boy, feeling the heat of fire lick the side of my face.

"You-"

He just pressed his finger to his lips. The universal sign for one to keep their trap shut. He saved my life and it was our secret to keep. Whether he was doing it to save me or himself, I never knew. I didn't have the chance to ask.

"What's going on in here?"

I kept my eyes forward, watching my clothes drip as they hung by the fire. "Hell if I know, ask Alfred." He's been burying her in blankets." I heard Jason grumble. I didn't have to hear my father's footsteps to know he was walking toward me.

"Delilah…"

"I s-s-s-saw t-the pound was f-frozen." I sputtered, watching the red and yellow hues of the flames melt together, sending sparks up into the air.

"Apparently, Miss Wayne decided to go ice skating." Alfred added, toting a couple of warm water bottles. "At 6 in the morning." He made short work of putting them in the blankets with me.

"I f-fell and it broke." I managed, trying not to jerk my head away when my father reached over and grabbed my chin so I would have no choice but to look at him.

"It's a miracle she was able to get herself out." Alfred said, tossing another log on the fire for good measure.

"I g-grabbed the ice when…" I bit down, as my teeth clacked together, trying to make sure I didn't try to look in Jason's direction. My first lie and it was felt no less guilty.

"Why? Why did you sneak out like that? Why didn't you wait?" He let my chin go and all I could do was stare at my hands, stare at the white scars that wrapped around my fingers. "I-I-" I just my head. "Mama used t-to I-" I just sat there and shook, I couldn't even string a few sentences together, I finally just gave up and shrugged.

"Stupid, Stupid Kid. You could have drowned! Tell me, tell me you understand that."

I just sat there blinking at him, not realizing I was tearing up and until he pressed my head into his chest. "Don't ever leave this house without letting one of us know." I could feel the words humming from his chest before I heard them with my ears. All I could do was sit there and nod, watching Jason through the blur of my tears. I kept his secret, I owed him that. Hell, I owed him my life. I still do.


"God of all mystery, whose ways are beyond understanding,

lead us, who grieve at this untimely death,

to a new and deeper faith in your love…"

Delilah kept her head bowed, trying to keep her eyes on the fallen leaves at her feet. The trees had shed them quickly this year, leaving a carpet of red, orange and yellow foliage scattered among the headstones.

"…which brought your only Son Jesus

through death into resurrection life.

We make our prayer in Jesus' name.

Amen."

"Amen." The girl whispered, letting her eyes fall on small black casket. Even now, in this flock of black attire and tears, it felt so surreal. He was only eight. Had she not been sandwiched between her father and Dick, she might have sunk to the soggy earth. I'm dreaming, I have to be…

Delilah closed her eyes, listening to the wind hiss through the bare branches over their heads leaving a mournful sound howling at her ears. Only when she felt a soft tug on the hem of her coat did the girl open her eyes, forcing herself to look down at Sissy Collins.

The girl eased herself down to kneel, hesitating for the space of a breath when the little thing threw her thin arms around Del's neck. I'm sorry. But the words were trivial and bitter. All she could do was hold the tiny body close to her as she pulled herself up from her knees, well aware that Mr. Collins was watching her every move.

With the little thing's wet cheeks pressed into her neck, the teen was begging for the right words to come to her, but perhaps there was nothing one could say. She simply took the edges of the girl's scarf and dabbed the tears off her face. But when the child turned and did the same to Del, the teen was sure she couldn't breathe. "Thank you for that." She whispered, giving her one more squeeze as the girl's father approached to collect her. It was almost as if the man was coming to snatch his child from the jaws of wolves.

Mr. Collins couldn't even look Del in the eye; he simply scooped up his daughter, and thanked them for coming. All the girl could do was stare at the man's back as he stalked his way across the graveyard, back into the arms of his family. He never gave the Wayne's a second glance.

"He blames me…doesn't he?" She whispered, when her father turned her in the other direction, pulling her eyes away from the sight of the tiny coffin as it was lowered into the earth.

"He's just grieving; it's a lot to process. Children aren't meant to die before their parents."

You know all about that, don't you, Dad? Del bit the words back, only giving her father a glance. Snagging his hand, she gave the chilly thing a squeeze, saying nothing as he squeezed back. When the boys started for the car, she paused.

"I'm…I'm going to walk home. I need to clear my head."

All Bruce could do was nod to her. "Don't make me come looking for you." He said ducking in the car after Damian worked himself in with his crutches.

"Do you want me to-"

The girl shook her head. "I'll be okay, Dick, but thank you." He seemed to hesitate, but he nodded and slid into the passenger seat. Only when she couldn't see the taillights anymore did she turn to the emptying graveyard.

For a while the girl simply sat there by her mother's marker, watching dirt being thrown over Max Collins' casket a shovel full at a time. She couldn't look away, no matter how hard she tried. "You didn't have to stay, Tim." She said quietly, listening to the grass rustle behind her, she only looked away to glance at the yellow tulip that had fallen by her foot.

"Ouch."

That voice…

For a long moment, the girl only stared up at him, blinking her big blue eyes. His hair was dark, like Tim's but everything else was all wrong. His eyes were blue, and he was definitely too tall. Delilah pulled herself to her feet, rising slowly as she tucked the stray hairs that whipped across her face behind her ear.

"Jason…" She took a step back, not wanting to be trapped between him and her mother's headstone. He should have looked like a young man in his late twenties, just like Dick, but what she saw before her looked like a young man who was barley twenty at all.

"Hey, Pipsqueak."

"What are you- Did you-" She choked on the words, trying to keep her emotions in check when he showed her his empty palms.

"No." He said quickly, snatching her by the arm when she tried to storm off in the other direction. Del twisted, hitting his chest to keep from falling. "I didn't do this. I swear." The words came out of his mouth like a confession. "I don't kill kids." When he felt her arms slide around him, he was utterly still, not quite sure what to do with the show of affection until he just gave up and let his arms collapse around her, trying not to get lost in the warmth of her breath as it puffed against his shirt.

"But you do kill…" She said evenly, pulling away from him. She could only watch him as he reached into his coat to retrieve his guns, only they weren't there. They were in her hands.

"Cute." He grumbled. "Couldn't just hug a guy, could you?"

When he reached to grab them from her, he twisted the guns in her hands. It gave the girl enough of an opportunity to squeeze the release latches and rip off the slides, effectively dismantling them. Delilah wasted no time and hurled the metal pieces.

"That's just mean." Jason told her, wincing when he heard one splash into a water feature that was somewhere behind him. Del on the other hand was marching away from him, squeezing her fists so hard she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

"Get away from me." She warned, listening to his footsteps as he jogged after her.

"Wait! I need you to hear me out." The second his fingers dug into her shoulder, Del spun on her heel. He was too close to effectively duck her swing.

"Right…like you gave Sam a chance?!" She cried, watching him rub his cheek. "You beat her!"

"That wasn't me; I only took her from her room…" Jason paused, watching the color fade from Delilah's face. "Wait, this isn't coming out right-"

"My best friend was stolen from her home in the middle of the night and beaten within an inch of her life. She's lost the use of her kidneys." Delilah snapped. "So what if you didn't do it. That doesn't mean shit to me." The girl paused, letting her hands slap to her sides. "You let it happen, Jason."

"I didn't have a choice."

"BULLSHIT! There's always a choice!" She shouted, "Like right now. I'm making the choice to leave before I bash your fucking ribs in." Before she could utter another word, Del whipped herself in the other direction, determined to walk away.

"You sound like him."

"Good!" She called out without even looking back. She had her eyes locked on the cemetery gate when she heard his hurried footsteps behind her once more. She immediately stepped out of her heels, paying no mind when the damp ground caused the bottoms of her feet to feel numb. The second she could feel his shadow she twisted toward him with a roundhouse kick. He caught her foot with a smack, and swept her leg out from under her.

"Don't. You'll trigger it." He said, letting her go the second her body hit the ground. But she was already rolling over and back up on her feet. It was already too late to stop. He went at her.


Tim had his icy hands jammed into the pockets of his coat as he trailed around the wispy bare trees that lined the back of cemetery. He had tried; God knows he had tried to stay for the entirety of Max's funeral. He just…couldn't. It wasn't like Timothy Drake had never felt the reverberations of death before.

His own mother had been taken from this world way before her time. But never had he seen it in such gory detail. Closing his eyes, he could still see the fear shining in the boy's eyes; he could still hear the blood gurgling in his throat. Jesus Christ. And someone was making this happen? The thought had him clenching his fingers into a fist.

"BULLSHIT! There's always a choice!"

The echoing shout had the teen's head popping up. He knew that voice, the thought was all but dragging him down the hill. When he spotted Delilah and some unknown assailant trading blows, he found himself jumping over the head stones trying to get to the bottom of the hill.

He moves like an assassin. The thought was a damning one indeed. After all, Del only had a handful of practices with the little Demon Spawn under her belt. It wasn't enough to mirror him or match him. He wasn't a ten year old boy that was closer to her height. Jason was a six foot man who most definitely outweighed her. And the fact she was doing this barefoot and in slacks…that didn't make things any easier. At least she was a bit more agile than him. But it was the only card she had to play.

It was taking everything she had just to block his blows. "No wonder Damian shish-kabobed your ass." Del hissed ducking under his foot when he kicked out at her. It certainly would have been easier, but having a weapon in her hands would be all too tempting.

Her hands caught his other foot as he spun around again, this time the girl hit the dirt, knocking his leg out from under him. When Jason hit the ground with a thud, the girl pulled herself from her crouch, watching him leap back to his feet.

"What? No snarky comments? No banter? That's not like you." She breathed, sliding her stance back. But Jason never replied. Looking at him, Del saw nothing. Like the night on the rooftop, his eyes were dead. His face was blank. You'll trigger it. Is this what he meant?

When he came at her she veered back, aware that he had drove her in a direction she didn't want to go. He was corralling her against the fence. Fuck. She was trying not to think about the rocks jabbing her feet, as she dodge his next swing. "There's always a choice. Make the choice!" She cried, taking a step back to put some space between them, but now there were bars at her back. "Come on, Jason! Whatever this is, you're letting it control you! "

Del grabbed the bars behind her, ignoring how her skin stuck to the cold metal. She was preparing to pull her legs up so she could knock him back when he was all but taken out from the side. Del pulled herself from the fence, paying no mind when she felt her sticking flesh rip from her fingers. Tim had knocked him flat.

Jason wasted no time to get up. He swung and kicked, all the while Tim was evading him, filling the cemetery with the sound of their contact. "JASON!" He flinched, but it was enough for Tim to launch off of the top of a headstone and roundhouse the man, causing his head to snap back into a tree. When Jason's body slid to the ground, Delilah was running, feeling the pine needles and burs of the over grown brush cling to her.

"Delilah, wait!" Tim snapped, hopping off of the tombstone when the girl crouched by the man's side.

But Del didn't even shoot him a glance; she simply ran her fingers over Jason's skull. Nothing there. "He knocked you out cold." She told him as she checked his vitals with the tips of her fingers. When he twitched she jumped to her feet. "There's always a choice, Jason. It just won't always be the one you want to make."

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, working his way out of the over grown bush. The second he saw Delilah's hands he grabbed them, not noticing the wave of surprise that washed across her face.

"That's gotta smart." He said to her as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief.

"They still make those? I thought they stopped doing that in our grandparent's heyday."

"Smart ass." He retorted, but when he went to press it around her hand she yanked it away.

"I don't want to ruin it." She told him, letting her hand fall to her side, but he was having none of it, he simply reached over and snatched her hand again.

"Blood washes out." He said, feeling her hand jerk when he wrapped it.

"Thank you." She murmured, bending down to retrieve her shoes when he let her hand fall.

"So who's the guy?"

Delilah's eyes snapped back to where Jason's body should have been laying, but the space was empty. "Jason Todd." She said quietly, trying not to flinch when his eyes widened. Apparently Dick had told a few tales about Jason.

"Didn't he – Isn't he supposed to be-"

"Dead?" The word felt strange as it fell out of her mouth. "That's what we thought too. We thought wrong." Without another word she crept through the cemetery gate, Tim close behind her.

It was easy to fall in a comfortable silence with Tim. She'd given up insisting that she could walk herself home, instead she listened to his soft footfalls beside her as they crossed the large valley that separated the cemetery from Wayne Manor.

"The scars on your hands…where did they come from?" The question surprised her; it almost drove her to self-consciously stare at her hands. She forced herself to stare up at the brooding sky instead. "The night my mom died…there was a lot of glass. I ended up cutting up my hands and my feet."

Tim stared down at the grass as if he were carefully picking his words. "Sam said Batman saved your life…"

"The same night. He busted right through our living room window and took out the gunmen. He called my mom by name. I guess it never dawned on me until I was older what that meant. I just remember him putting his hands on mine…and I begged and begged for him to save her." Delilah stopped and shook her head. "Knowing that it was my own father all this time… and that I asked that of him. It kills me a little." The girl put her hand in front of her mouth. "I'm sorry, that's probably more detail than you'd ever want to know, it's just…when people ask, there's a lot I can't normally say."

But the dark haired boy only nodded. "Don't worry about it." When they shifted back into silence again, Del was sure she had caused it. But then he opened his mouth.

"He saved my dad." Tim said quietly, letting the sound of their feet moving through the grass fill the silence between his words. "My parents were in Haiti when they were taken hostage by a holy man. Batman was able to save my dad…but my mom, she didn't make it." He said, watching Wayne Manor grow with every step they took. "She was poisoned too…" he added, his voice almost a whisper. "It was in the water they drank."

What a thing to have in common.

"I really do want to help." Tim said as they paused on the edge of the Wayne property line.

"I know. I know you do." She couldn't even look at him; she just listened to his footsteps as he turned away.

"I wish we could have saved him…"

"Me too…" But her whisper seemed to be swallowed by the wind.


"What happened to you?"

Delilah paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching her father pace back and forth in the glow of the bat-computer. At Dick's words he paused.

"Minor dispute with some brush…" she muttered, brushing at the pine needles that were still clinging to her pants. At least in this light they couldn't see the mud blending into the fabric. But the girl's eyes immediately went to the screen. Damian had his elbows resting by the keyboard, with his hands fisted in front of his mouth. A pose she had often seen her father strike. She immediately crossed the space, trying to ignore the feel of her father's stare on her back.

"It's the same…" Damian said, not even letting his eyes break from the monitor. "Found some fingerprints on the carton they came in, running a check on those now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I ran the second test." Her father told her. The girl tried not to flinch when he filled the space beside her and picked up her wrapped hand. "We're also running a comparison test with some of the same agents that Poison Ivy has been known to use, she's been back in town for some time." His scrutinizing eyes moved from her to her hand. "What's this?"

"No…it's not her." She said softly, yanking her hand from him as she turned away, leaving them to watch her when she moved to the cold storage unit where her father kept samples. "2,1,1,4,5. Two, one, fourteen, five. B-A-N-E. The code to Mom's safe."

"He's still in Santa Prisca; he hasn't been in Gotham in years…" Dick interjected, floating closer to the computer himself.

"When was the last time he was here?" Del asked, letting her father practically snatch the vile from her.

"Almost seventeen years."

"Bird." Del felt her heart drop to her feet as the name fell from her father's mouth. Could it really be?

"Would he really? I mean…"

"You two want to share with the class?" At Dick's words, even Damian was twisting in his chair to look at them.

"Bird is Paige's half-brother." Bruce said evenly, glancing over his shoulder at his daughter. The girl had her eyes on the screen, her fingers to her lips as if she were trying to process the very thought that it could be her own family that was out for her blood. Once he had an analysis running the man immediately climbed the platform and headed for his suit.

Feeling someone touch her hand the girl jumped, Dick was turning her hand this way and that in the light of the computer. When his dark eyes fell on the embroidery he pursed his lips. "So..uh, what's this?" He asked raising his brow ever so slightly. The girl immediately put an elbow into his ribs.

"Not what you think, and if you don't pay attention, Bats is going to leave without you."

Dick immediately turned on his heel. Sure enough, Batman was already in the car.

"Can't you just say, 'Get in the car.'?" He asked, quickly abandoning her at the computer. But as he started in that direction he turned and pointed at her. She knew the language. This conversation isn't finished. With her hands on her hips, the girl watched the car speed off, knowing full well just who he'd be looking for.

"I see I'm not the only one who'd like to be rid of you." Damian stated as he turned his chair toward her.

"And yet I keep sticking around, I'm annoying like that." Del grumbled, plopping down by at table, aware that the boy was watching her over his hands.

"If he asked you for it, would you give it to him?"

Del touched the glass case that housed the unassuming stone. "Part of me says yes." She said twisting toward him. "The other part just wants to beat him into a bloody pulp…if he never gave it to her..."

Analysis Complete. At the sound of the computer, both Wayne children were turning toward the screen. Print Match. Damian was leaning into the chair when he heard his sister's stool slam into the table.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

"You know him?" He asked staring up at the man's picture. He looked rather pathetic really.

Del didn't even reply, she stormed over to the computer and ripped the head set off of Damian's head, ignoring him when he spun around at her.

"Talk."

"I don't know how, but the prints are a match for Nick St. James." With that the girl tossed the headset back at her brother, who seemed to be studying her. "Bastard killed my mother." She spat before turning and flying up the stairs.

"She has some rage in her after all…"


Seeing Arkham was nerve racking enough during the day, but here in the darkness, it was a completely different animal. The heat from the bay turned to fog as it mingled with the October air, leaving a dense cloud looming over the lone island. The brush had begun to take hold of the statues at the gate, eerie guardians that held out their lamp light, while the earth continued to swallow them whole.

The girl was in the midst of scaling over the gate when something jolted her. The sound of a tazer was not unfamiliar to her. Not unlike the dread that pricked her when she felt her body lock up. She hit the ground in a shaking heap. Her fingers had barley reach for her small oxygen mouth piece when she heard the sound of boots scuffing against the gravel. If it was Batman or Dick, they wouldn't have used a Taser. Not if one of them knew it was her.

"Sorry about that, Pipsqueak."

She could barely make out his red mask through the haze before the barrel of a rifle came down on her head. Everything went black.

Her whole body ached, her head felt as though it was going to split open. But for a moment the girl just lay still, eyes closed. She could still smell the brine of the bay, but now there was a smell of mold and mildew. Somewhere above her, metal creaked. She could feel the light touch of the wind on her face and the cold hard surface of concrete at her back. Opening her eyes she could see patches of sky bleeding through roof. Old ruins from Arkham's early days?

"It doesn't take much does it?"

It hurt to move her head, but there sitting at his leisure on the floor, was Jason.

"You could have killed me with that." She croaked, forcing herself to sit up. Her hand flew to her head. "You're such an ass-hat."

"It was the only way I could get you to come with me." He said climbing to his feet while Del let her eyes focus. Old medical equipment. It didn't give her the warm and fuzzies.

"Where are we?" She groaned, watching him work his way to an old surgical table.

"The old hospital wing on the back of the property."

When he heard her struggle to her feet he whipped back around. "If you're going to try and yell for Bats and Boy-Wonder, forget it. They left long ago." He told her, watching her stumble as she made it to her feet.

I'm in over my head…

"They weren't happy either." He said, trying to gain her to look at him, but her eyes were busy, watching his flashlight glint off of the surgical tools on the table before him.

"Nick St. James…he escaped." She said groggily.

"Not quite. Someone came and collected him."

That made the girl pause. "Did you let him out?!" She cried, her own voice felt raw from the cold.

"No." He said, turning toward her with a scalpel. Del quickly stumbled back, tripping into a pile of old wheelchairs.

"Jason." The name came out like a warning; she reached into her harness only to discover that the harness was gone. Fuck. There wasn't a Sam to report to. No one knew where she was. She no longer had her locator since her phone was still in the evidence locker at the GCPD. I've screwed up. I've screwed up royally.

She was in the midst of trying to flee backwards when he snatched her. She swung, but still feeling disoriented, he just stepped back, catching her when she almost spilled to the floor. She felt the cold metal of cuffs as he slapped them on her wrists. With one swift move, he knocked her on her rump, causing a cloud of dust to rise up in her fall. When he stepped closer, she scrambled to push herself back. When she felt her body hit the wall, she could only look up at him wide eyed. He put your hands in front of you…think. There's a way out of this. She was pulling her feet as far underneath her as she could to spring back up. If she could get her arms over his head with the cuffs, she could head-butt him.

With her eyes on Jason's hands she watched him work himself out of his leather jacket and sling it to the floor. When he pulled pieces of his suit off and then slipped out of his t-shirt, the girl froze. He pressed her against the wall, trapping her body between his arms.

"I need you to help me." He told her, his breath leaving him in a small wisp. "You owe me."

"Wh-what?"

Jason shoved himself from the wall; grabbing the links of her cuffs he dragged her toward the old surgical table. Setting down the scalpel, he grabbed her hand, yanking her glove away to free her fingers.

The muscle in Jason's back rippled when he pressed her hand just above his shoulder blades. "Fuck, your hands are cold." He hissed, pressing the pads of her fingers into his flesh. There was something there. "Feel that?"

The second he let go of her hand, she ran her thumb over the edge of the square object. "What is it?"

"The main chip that makes me does whatever they want." He growled. "They couldn't figure out how to control me, so they figured they'd wire me up like a damn computer so they could override my thought process."

"They didn't think you'd ever be able to think for yourself again…"

She felt him stiffen under her palm. "No. I need you to get it out." He said, snagging a bottle of whiskey off the metal table.

"Wait- I've never. I don't-"

"You owe me, Del. I need to make my own choices, not the ones they want me to make." He said, as he opened the bottle. Delilah only watched as he poured the liquid over the instrument, creating a puddle at their feet.

"What will you do when they notice?"

"Oh, I can play along." He sneered, fishing a lighter out of his pocket to finish sanitizing the scalpel. The handle was still wet when he handed it to her and sat on the stool in front of her. "It's not deep. They've programmed me from being able to cut it out myself, or I would have."

"No antiseptic?" she asked, watching him take a swig from the whiskey bottle.

But Jason was shaking his head as he worked his belt out of jeans. "No. So be quick about it. Don't be a chicken-shit." He told her, handing her a set of tweezers from his pocket as he put the belt between his teeth.

Del watched his flesh rise into Goosebumps, probably from her own cold breath. Putting his flashlight into her mouth, she held the tweezers in one hand, as she began to cut with the other. Don't you dare jerk. She told herself, spying the rivulets of blood that had started to roll down his back. Oh, Jesus. Despite feeling the bile creep up her throat, the girl kept her hands steady. In the low light of the flashlight she could see the black edge of the large chip. It was almost the size of a credit card. Working her tweezers into the now gaping incision, she worked the thing from his flesh, trying to ignore his groans when it pulled free.

She let the scalpel drop to the ground and quickly rescued the flashlight from her mouth. "I just have to close it up." She told him, reaching around him for the sewing kit that she had spotted in front of him. She quickly doused the needle with some of the whisky before putting it to the lighter. At least she wasn't a stranger to giving a stitch.

The second she cut the thread, she grabbed a piece of sheet off the table, pouring what was left of the whisky, she rubbed his back, aware of the smell of blood and alcohol mixing together.

"There. We're even now." She said, snaking her hand around him to his pocket. She had just gotten her fingers around the key to her handcuffs when his hand clamped down on her.

"No, we're not…" he said hoarsely, rising from the stool. "I still owe you…" He took the key from her, turned and unlocked the cuffs.

"N-no you don't. You never did."

"Yes, I do. Don't fucking argue with me." He snapped, "Trust me, I wish I didn't." She could only watch him as he bent down to grab his shirt and jacket.

Del found her harness and was slipping it back on, everything else was in its place. "Why, why do you still owe me?" But as the girl turned around she found nothing but an empty room. Sighing she snapped up her mask and mouth piece that was laying on the ground, turning slowly when she heard the sound of a cape ruffling in the air.

Del grimaced as Damian landed on the floor, using his hand to steady himself. Obviously his break hadn't healed all the way, but the cast was gone.

"Following me now?" She asked, working her mask over her head, watching him stalk over to the bloody mess that covered the ground. The boy picked up the large black component. "What have you done?!" he snapped, shooting from his crouch.

"They were controlling him!"

"For everyone else's safety, you idiot! I told you the Jason you knew is dead!"

"Stop it! Did you ever think that maybe the league is in the wrong?!" Delilah retorted.

"You'll see. You have no idea what you've unleashed."