AN:Okay, so it ran long. the "showdown" isn't in this one folks but it's coming. (part 2. chopping in half again.) This chapter and the next will be setting up for some major events later and in the sequel. -Yes there's a sequel!- Jason had his moment so to speak, I guess Tim wanted his own. Well, sort of. :D


I don't know if it was my newly trimmed lungs making it so hard to breathe or if it was fear itself. I wanted to tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that I had to face the monster of my nightmares once again. But as the salted mist of the bay clung to my face all I could hear was Dad's voice in my head. The right choices rarely feel like good ones. No, this was my choice. I had to know, I had to know if Sam was right, if that inkling that was all but creeping through my bones was true. What had Nick St. James planned for me…if Dad never came?

"You think he's involved in the Nine Circles, don't you?"

At the sound of his voice cutting over the cries of gluttonous birds, I couldn't help but peel my eyes away from the white caps of the water to look at the boy beside me. "It's something Sam brought up." I said softly, listening to the horn of the ferry blare into the fog as it drifted closer and closer to Arkham Island's rocky shores. "When I found him and Sissy…" Even now I can still see the look of terror on that little girl's tear soaked face. It was enough to make my words thicken. "…he was taking her somewhere, Damian. I need to know where." I managed, letting the seagulls overtake our silence.

"I can see why they would risk taking Anabel." The boy said suddenly, drawing my gaze from the looming shadows just ahead. He was so still, so sure. Looking at him then it was hard to tell if he was really a ten year old kid or a mini adult trapped in a body that was way too small. "Blonde hair, blue eyes. Young—impressionable, easy to manipulate and therefore easy to control. A trainable commodity."

As his voice left him in soft curling wisps, I found myself gripping my coat closer to my suddenly chilled flesh. He's right. God, as much as it made my stomach churn, the kid was right. "It's disgusting." I growled trying to ignore how the shudder makes my flesh feel like it's raw from the inside out. But as I stole a glance at Arkham's looming shape, I could see Damian stealing a sidelong glance at me. "Don't you start too…" I said, forcing his green eyes to dart away as if he wasn't watching my palms press against my new sutures.

"Don't flatter yourself." He sneered, twisting about to lean his back against the paint chipped rails. I want to corner him, but I can feel my lungs aching, begging me not say much more. "It is disgusting." He adds tilting his head up to the heavy gray clouds that hung over our heads. "And those who partake in it don't deserve the air they breathe." For all the venom spewing from his lips, I couldn't help but see the flicker of passion in him. Finally, there was something that bothered him! You do have a scope of right and wrong, don't you? Warped? Maybe. But it was there. "What I don't understand…" he started, letting his hooded head tilt toward me. "…is why bother with a college student? She's older, athletic, much harder to control than a child. And she was the only one who was branded that night."

Now it was my turn to lean on the rail. I couldn't even feel the flecks of paint under my scared palms. "What do we know about her?" I asked, forcing myself to breathe as the docks began to take shape before us. There was no going back now.

I couldn't tell if Damian was wrinkling his round nose at the musty odor of half rotten wood and fish or if he was just shooting me dirty looks. "Sasha Bowman, Twenty-three. She's attending Gotham University on a dance scholarship. No family to speak of, her parents died when she was seventeen and was a ward of the state until she was eighteen. She lives on campus. And she doesn't seem to have any associates outside of the dance troupe." At that the boy shrugged his shoulders. "Completely unremarkable."

And lonely. "No family? None what so ever?"

"Did I stutter? I said she has none. Don't tell me you're as dumb as Grayson."

"I think that's it. Who would look for her? Think about it, Damian, if Sissy didn't have her aunt, she'd be a ward of the state just like Sasha was. If she went missing…who would look for her?" They prey on those who slip through the cracks. It was enough to make me want to bend over the side and toss my cookies into the bay.

"I would." Feeling the ferry bump into the weather worn ports, I could only stare Damian and that hard scowl on his face as I braced myself for the reverberations of the impact. "I'd find them…and I'd crush them all." The words don't bother me even though I know they should. Maybe I agreed with him more than I cared to admit. "If you didn't have Father, who would've looked for you?" I could feel a multitude of names building up behind my lips. If the Devereux family knew I was missing they'd look for me wouldn't they? But even as I tried to bat away the creeping thoughts I only had one answer.

"I don't know."


I don't know what pulled me forward—what was leading me through the dank narrow halls of Arkham. I only obeyed, listening to the sound of the large silver charms on my boots clank together as if they were announcing my coming with every step I took into the madness. The bat and bird are always with me. And though I can't hear his steps over the calling of the inmates or the sound of my boots thudding along the metal catwalk, I know there's a bird beside me…a deadly little bird.

"A guard will be posted just outside, Miss Wayne." And you're a bat. Standing there waiting for that heavy bolted door before us to open, I could only feel that ache in my chest. Was it just my injuries? Or was it a fire? I couldn't tell anymore. I watched the guard's face grow slack in my silence as he slips from the door, revealing to me the monster inside. This moment-this moment had plagued my every thought for weeks now. I always assumed I'd hesitate when it arrived, but my legs only wrenched me forward, closer to the man who had altered my life forever.

"Hello, Nick." I manage, forcing the man to lift his gaze to me with that unblinking glass eye. Standing here at this table he seems so much smaller than the giant my memory had forged, and I know he's no small man. He's almost as tall as Dick and he's twice as thick. Even though I can see Damian pressing his shadow against the wall, I can't stop the shiver that rolls up my spine as the door slams shut behind us, swallowing the noise, say for the soft flick of well-worn playing cards.

"Damn, you sure know how to take a lick don't you?" He says, peering up at me with that shit-eating grin that's almost the same color of his dirty blonde hair. "I would've loved to see that." He adds, letting the blood red playing cards still on the table. Even in this grungy light I can still see every shadow crease of his face. It may be covered with stubble and new scars but he's still the same, the sharp angles of his high cheeks, the sloping crooked nose, and the gray blue eye. Okay, so maybe he wasn't exactly how I remembered. His jaw looked weak now. His smile was gapped with the broken edges of teeth. I can't help but wonder if he really did have to suck food from a straw. The thought alone made me smile and he had no idea why. It pleased me, God that pleased me to no end.

"Tch. Looks like you can't see much of anything." Damian scoffed from behind me. I could only glance at the boy, watching him press the sole of his boot against the wall with the rest of his body.

"Who's the brat?" St. James hissed, kicking a metal chair toward me with his foot as he sank back in his own seat.

"None of your business." Kicking the same chair back under the table I watched as the man's fingers fished into the pocket of his shirt for a half crushed pack of cigarettes. Don't let him know you're uncomfortable. It took some work but I managed to sit on the corner of my half of the metal table.

"I could almost say I'm proud of you," Damian jested with a jut of his chin. "But you missed an eye. You should've taken them both." As I tucked my legs in front of me, I could see that single eye glaring at us.

"I should've. But then he wouldn't be able to see what I've brought." That got him to glance at me as he swiped a match across his sleeve. I let him watch my fingers as I reached into my jacket for the photos and scraps of paper I'd stuffed in the inside pocket.

"So, did you bring me pictures today?"

"Maybe." The second his chains scraped along the table, I yanked my hands back, aware that Damian had peeled himself from the wall. "Oh, no you don't. I have questions."

Smoke rings. God, I hate the smell of cigarettes. There's something about the stale burnt bitterness that rubs me wrong. But Nick only continued to inhale and blow out tendrils of smoke like a dragon. He's no dragon of course; the man was just a monster. A monster who plucked out his own glass eye and set it on the table—like that was going to unsettle me. "Are you toying with me, Little Girl?" I was too engrossed in the cavernous hole in his ugly mug to really hear the words.

"Are you a betting man, Nick?" That seemed to make the man smile some more. All I really wanted to do is bash his face into the table until he had nothing left in his mouth. But I stayed still, watching his thick fingers pick up the deck of cards before him.

"I am." He said, filling the room with the sound of cards bridging over each other. "How 'bout a wager? I win, I see a picture. You win, I answer a question." Think like the enemy.

"Alright." I said evenly, slamming my hand on his before he could deal out the cards. It took everything I had not yank my hand away. I didn't want to touch the same hands that had killed my mother. "How stupid do you think I am? I'm not drawing from your deck. He deals."

The man simpered like a child who'd gotten caught red handed before slinging the cards across the table toward Damian. All I could focus on was breathing. I couldn't even zero in on the sound of shuffling cards. "You look a hell of a lot like your mother." Everything in my lungs came out in a whoosh. For a second I thought Damian had gone still, but the cards kept coming. He's trying to get to you. He wants to shake you. Make you screw up. Don't fall for it. I could only pick up my cards. A pair of aces, eight, six and two. At best I only had a pair. I could only look over my cards to see St. James lick his thin lips.

"Two." I murmur, letting the lower cards slip to the table. Damian's wasn't tense, but oh, I could feel the kid's eyes on me. Mom had taught me how to play and Alfred had sharpened my skills. I could only sigh as I set the new cards I was dealt in my hand as the man glanced at me over his cards.

"Moment of truth, Girly. What'cha got?"

I let my pair of aces flop down to the table with my new pair of eights, Nick smiled as his cards rested on the table. "Dead man's hand. Sorry, but it looks like your dead this time. Straight to the queen. Now, about that picture-"

"Hold it." Sliding my last eight over, I let him see my fifth and final card. A third eight. A full house. Of course it was mixed suits but it was enough to deflate his ego.

"Well that was a dirty trick. Didn't your daddy ever teach you to play nice?"

"Nope." With that I pulled the small scrap of paper I had hidden in my pocket. The second I let the folded thing hit the table, the man snapped it up, not seeming to mind his expression as he smirked at the sketch of the nine circles brand. At least I didn't have to ask him if it was familiar, he gave that away for free.

"If Batman hadn't shown up…what would you have done with me?" The sound of his chuckle was an eerie thing; I could feel it pulling the hair on the back of my neck to attention.

"And just how do you know about this?"

"I'm asking the questions. What were you planning to do with me? Killing kids really isn't your style. I guess their screams are a little too high pitched for you."

"They sound like pigs." He said with a sigh, letting the paper float back across the table. "But they fetch a fair price to the right people. You would have cost a pretty penny, maybe not as much as a blonde. But you were cute enough. It's the eyes. If I'd known that you're a Wayne—" The man stopped to slap his knee. "Oh, Honey, I could have made a killing." I could feel my nails digging into my palms as the room filled with his burst of laughter. "Oh, come on! That was funny."

"What kind of people?"

"Uh-uh. You want another question, you'll have to win another hand." I didn't. Watching that man grin as if he were about to claim a prize I could feel my stomach twist. It's alright. You planned ahead. Beside me Damian's impatience was building in the form of sighing breathes and sharp little glares. I could hear his fingers drumming against his thigh. If I didn't move this along the kid just might explode.

"Patience." I hissed, more for the boy's ears than St. James who was reaching out to me with his grubby paws. Letting my body sag into the chair I pulled a small photo free from the depths of my pocket. No sooner did the photo touch the metal surface of the table did the man snatch it up like a stray dog eager for scraps. Oh, but that winding smile slipped into a set of pursed lips.

"Well that was anti-climactic." He muttered, tilting his head as he analyzed the photo a moment more. "How'd you end up with something like this?" The second he flung it back at me, I couldn't help but glance down, feeling my breath hitch as I stared at that burned spot of flesh on that poor dead thing's body. Jesus, that poor girl.

"We were the ones who found the body. She was buried under a snowbank." My teeth dug into my tongue as the words slipped out me. You'd think I was there just to chat.

"Defective merchandise" He mumbled, peeling the cancer stick from his lips to dump the ash on the table. "Or...they got what they wanted." As the smoke cleared I could see his thin lips twisting into a smile before he swept up the next set of cards. "Cat got your tongue?" He asked, shoving a pair of cards at Damian. "Or is the Princess of Gotham realizing she's no different than the little whores on the corner? That she could've been one of those little whores?"

With my cheek held captive in my cheek I discarded another pair of cards watching the cherry of his cigarette fade and glow with every drag. I heard Damian's boots scuff across the floor first. I don't know how my free hand was able to reach up and grab him around the arm in time. "Watch your tongue or lose it."

"Damian."

"We're wasting time!" He snapped, his voice covering over the sound of Nick's cards as he splayed them out on the table.

"Not quite." I said evenly, trumping his three of a kind with my straight. "What kind of people?" I asked again, watching the man smash the stub of his smoke.

"All kinds. Desperate couples. Pedophiles. Pimps and madams… take your pick. Nine Circles caters to any and all who can pay. A demand comes in and they feed it. Simple as that. They even kept me happy for a little while…and then instead of buying I ended up selling." The reflection of the girl in the metal table seemed paler than before. Oh, he liked that. "This is fun." He said slinging his cards across the table before leaning into his chair. I could only watch him as he pulled open that pack once more. "Oh? This offends you?" He asked pulling a fresh cigarette out.

"Everything about you offends me." I muttered, watching the shadows darken the creases of his face as I plucked up my cards. God they were looking grim.

"Now you're just turning into a bitch."

"I may be a bitch." The words were tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them, even as my hands smacked into the table throwing my bad hand out for him to see I couldn't stop. "But you're still the spineless prick of a man who murdered my mother without cause."

With pain buzzing through my knuckles I could feel his laugh scraping up my spine as he set his cards down. My pair didn't stand a chance. "Trust me when I say…" He started, the links of his chains scraping against the table as he leaned forward, assaulting me with a whiff of that sour breath of his. "…It wasn't without cause. And if Bats hadn't shown up I would've made a hell of a lot more money. The job was just your mother. But when I saw you, I knew the folks at Nine Circles would want you. Hell, they even had someone paying in advance for you. Think about that, Princess." In…advance?

Tossing the picture at him, it took me a moment to swallow the bitterness that was creeping up my throat. But the second Nick turned that photo over, revealing my mother's lively face to the yellowed light, his gray colored eye seemed to grow darker. Suddenly, cupping the small photo in his palm he eased back in his chair, letting his cigarette settle in the ashtray. "She was one of the better ones. A spitfire." He said, letting a smile creep across his face as he lifted his gaze to me. "Never had one fight me quite like that before. Now that was some real fun." Before my chair even hit the floor the man's fingers peeled the photo apart, scattering my mother's face along the floor with the ashes and grit of our shoes.

I couldn't even reach across the table fast enough. Damian beat me to him with a leap. St. James's tumbled to the floor in a clatter of metal. He could try to scramble to his feet all he wanted but the boy had him. "I told you to mind your tongue." He hissed, fisting his hands into the man's hair and in the collar of his jump suit before slamming his head into the edge of the table. Assaulted by the sudden rusted smell of blood I realized that the metal surface was red. I couldn't tell where the man's nose or mouth began. "Now you'll lose it."

Navigating around the blood spatter and the shards of teeth on the floor, I attempted to pull Damian away as he brought St. James' head up once more. "Enough. That's enough!" I snapped, forcing myself between the boy and the man who was now crumbled to the floor. "Oh? Did you think I was the bad cop in this scenario?" I crooned, lifting his head up by his hair. "Guess again."

"Miss Wayne?"

"A name. I want to know who conducts business for the Nine Circles." With the sound of the officer's boots tapping along the catwalk just outside I knew we didn't have much time. His echoing chuckle wasn't the response I was hoping for.

"Stupid Bitch. You don't have a clue….you don't know how far it goes. It's international."

"Gotham. Give me a name or I'll let him have at you again." I could see his eye trying to follow the boy as he squatted down to yank a leg out of the chair that St. James had spilled from. Twisting his head back toward me, I could feel his bloodied spit rolling down my cheek.

"The Collector."

"And where do I find him?"

"Figure it out yourself, you cunt." Pulling myself from my crouch, I couldn't help myself. His head somehow found its way to the table again. "You can't stop it. There's no way. Not even all of your daddy's money can help you. Gotham's just going to eat you alive."

"We'll see about that won't we?" I said, snatching his glass eye off the table. I could see him watching the thing as I let it fall to the floor. There was something about the glass eye cracking under my boot that made it all worthwhile. "Underestimating me never seems to work in your favor." I added, making sure to ground the glass into the rough concrete floor just as the door sprung open.

"What the-"

"His chair came apart and he hit his head on the table." I said evenly. "He'll need medical attention." I said slipping by the wide eyed officer as he bent down to pick up the chair leg. With Damian strolling at my side once more I worked my way back through the narrow walkways, listening to the bat and bird on my boot zippers clink together.

"I did you a favor." I almost wasn't sure what to make of Damian's sudden words. I could only watch him scan the corridors below us as we moved through the compound.

"How?"

"I knew the minute I started on him, you'd stop me from killing him." The boy said simply, locking his hands behind his back as if we were going on a stroll. But when his dark green eyes fell on me I could feel my steps staggering. "I wouldn't have stopped you. I did you a favor."

What do you say to that? I could only stare up at the pendulum lights above our heads as we passed through the small pools of soiled light. Strange I was here for answers and all I had were more questions—and a name.

"Oh look who it is!" I couldn't hear my steps anymore over the sound of leg irons dragging across the floor. It's him. Forcing myself to twist around I could see the group of heavy armored officers leading the clown to an open cell ahead of us. "Back for more fun are you?"

I couldn't get my tongue to work; I only pressed myself against the wall with our own little entourage as the clown was herded closer. "I know what it is you want." I don't even know where the words came from. But for all the chaos around us, I know that Joker herd them. I could only watch him pause and pull away from the prodding that tried to keep him moving. My legs were moving bringing me closer and closer. Stranger still I had the guards move out of my way with just wag of my scared fingers. Why didn't this dawn on me sooner? Its death he wanted. Batman was the only man who could see the genius behind his chaos. He was the only one who could keep up with the clown. If Joker could die at the hand of Batman it would be like his ultimate swansong. Dad won't kill him. Dad won't ever kill him. And it's not that he doesn't want to. Life is his punishment.

I should've been afraid but standing there in his towering shadow I felt nothing, even as the man lowered his head to my beckoning hand. As I cupped my hand around his ear I could feel the tension rising around me. "I'm going to see to it that you live for a very…very long time. You crashed the wrong party." With my whisper still rolling in his ears I stepped back, ignoring his calls as they echoed after me.

"What did you…"

"Only that I'd make certain he'd live for as long as possible."

"What?! That-"

"For some people life is torture."


Someone even paid for you in advance. Del wasn't sure if it was the soft rocking the train that was make her stomach turn or if it was nothing more than the memories of the wee hours. Who? Some desperate couple? A creepy ass pedophile? Someone paid for her in advance, but they never got their product. Realizing she wasn't reading anymore she simply hugged the soft leather journal to her chest. She couldn't hear his pencil scratching over his sketchpad anymore. Then again the bag she was leaning into was pressed into Tim's side.

"Not learning anything?"

At his words, the girl found herself lifting her mother's journal up. She'd put off reading it for so long. "Nothing about…venom one." She said gently letting her fingers flit through the soft ink filled pages. "She started writing this after she moved back to Gotham." It was strange reading about a chapter of her mother's life that the woman rarely spoke of. With a mother who was dying of cancer, it fell to her to find to search through Gotham for any sign of her brother and gypsy souled father. She found big brother Ben…but she also found Batman. "Venom one happened before she came here." Del said wrapping her arms around the book once more, not minding how it made her ache. She only turned her attention to the shadows that were flickering across the sun filled car. In the bright light of the window behind her, the girl made shapes with her fingers, long eared rabbits being a personal favorite.

"What are you? Five?" It was enough to get her to tilt her head up at him with a silly little grin on her face. But no sooner did her eyes return to the sun filled wall, did his shadow lean in and kiss the rabbit on its head. She thought her fingers might've gone numb with the feel of his lips on her skin. "All the money in the world and you amuse yourself with shadow puppets."

"I guess that means I'm normal person, doesn't it? I don't know what Gotham Noir would do with that."

"Princess of Gotham plays with shadow puppets. Oh, yeah, that'd sell like hot cakes I'm sure." With a smirk the girl reached up and gave him a shove back winning a wide smile in return. His smile was a rare thing. Sure she'd seen him smirk and give halfhearted twists of the lip. But to really see something break across his face and reach up into his eyes? There was something warm about that shy occurrence.

"I wish it had been you that I kissed." Had the words really come out her? Weren't they just a thought? But as his shadow came back to lean over her, Del could feel the butterflies scrambling around in her insides. She had. God why didn't her filter ever work?!

"I do too." He murmured, forcing her eyes to close when his sighing breath touched her cheek. "Lucky Bastard. You ever figure out—"

"Jason."

Even through her bag she could feel Timothy Drake going still. "How the hell do you confuse him for me?"

"Same mask. I even called him Tim and he never corrected me."

"You sure it was him?"

I want to kiss you and I don't know why… "Yeah, I'm sure."

"What an ass. Bruce would blow a blood vessel."

"Understatement." Del said with a sigh, stealing a chance to look up at the dark haired boy. The smile was gone.

"Why…"

"Why does Jason do anything? Jason just does what Jason wants." She mumbled, wincing as she attempted to shrug her shoulders. Why indeed. I want to know why… Feeling Tim's cool fingers on her face, the thought all but fizzled as his palm cupped her chin only to tilt her head as he leaned in, forcing her next inhale to be nothing but his warm breath.

"He may have kissed you first, but I put my lips to you the longest." He whispered, tickling her face with the soft air of his words. Surely her heart would come up in her throat now. She couldn't even hear the clack of the tracks over the hum in her ears.

"CPR doesn't count." The words all but fumbled out of her mouth as they dissolved into a breathy laughs, with her fingers inching their way up his face she could feel his chuckle bubbling out of him.

"I'll admit I'd prefer it if the person I'm kissing actually kisses me back."

"I'd kiss you back now." She whispered, thankful the car they'd chosen was filled with nothing more than sunlight and their own warm bodies. But no sooner had his head dipped in did the squeal of metal wheels on rails call out to them. He was close enough she could feel his lips pulling into a smile against her own.

"There's something wrong with our timing." He uttered, pulling away before the train car began to tug and shudder to a stop. Even with Delilah's teasing laughter, the spell had been broken with the sound of the garbled intercom as it poured into the train car. Reality was waiting just outside those automatic doors.

"Your trajectory is off by the way." Delilah managed as she worked herself up from the seat. She could see Tim's dark green eyes darting down to the sketch pad.

"Is not—oh wait…"

"Just what are you working on?" At that the boy just looked at her and smirked before he peeled himself up.

"You'll see." He jested, shoving the plans right back into his messenger bag before she could pry any further. "Daily Planet, right?"

"Yup."

"Think Bruce knows where we are by now?"

"Probably."

"Trouble?"

"Definitely. So we better hurry."


The pit was busy, bustling with journalists, crazy ringtones and the clack of keyboards. No sooner had she opened the door, she could've appreciated the spell of coffee and day old doughnuts. "I'm sorry, you'll just have to cut it down, unless you want to make a jump to page six."

"Aw, Perry, come on! This deserves the full front page!"

"Lois…"

But as Delilah drifted closer with Tim in her wake, the woman's lips curled into a smile, watching the girl as she pressed a finger to her lips behind Perry White's back. Lois sighed, folding her arms over her round belly. "You know what? Never mind."

The tips of Perry's ears started to turn red. "Never mind? What the hell do you mean never mind? After all the crap you gave me? Oh! Where the hell is Clark! I can't put up with your shenanigans today."

"Shove it all on page six."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. Our front page story just walked in."

"Behind me right?"

"Breathe, Mr. White." Delilah said over the man's shoulder, making him whirl around on his heel.

"Jesus Christ, it's Delilah Wayne." The man sputtered, stepping back so he could sling an arm around the girl. "How the hell are you—when did you—you were shot!"

"I nearly drowned too." She offered shrugging with her arms out as the newsroom lolled at her words. "I bounce back fast."

"Or you fake it." Lois murmured, trying to wedge herself out of her chair.

"Like a boss. Don't even get up. " The teen chided, stealing the empty chair from Clark's desk. "Shouldn't you be on maternity leave or something?"

"Not you too! You should be in a hospital bed or… something."

"Yeah…that wasn't gonna happen."

"So are you going to give me—I mean us the first exclusive interview?" Lois asked as the girl sank carefully into the chair.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a trade." The woman's dark blue eyes widened with interest. But before the girl could elaborate she only frown as her phone began to shake violently from the inner sanctum of her pocket.

"That's your father. He wants to know where you are." Clark. Lifting her eyes from the small LCD screen she could see Clark slipping from around the cubicle, sliding his thick framed glasses back in place. "He called me not even a minute ago asking if I've seen you today."

"Oh…fun." Del muttered, grimacing as she swiped the screen. "Yes, Dad?"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Pulling the phone from her ear, she was sure that everyone on staff could hear his words booming from the phone. You already know. But the words didn't dare cross her lips. "Daily Planet. Call you back in five. Swear." She hurriedly hung up, knowing full well she cut him off mid-sentence. The second he tried to call her back, she turned the phone down completely and let it slide right back into her pocket before lifting a bright face for the Kents.

"So how much trouble are we going to be in again?" Tim asked as he leaned over the top of her chair.

"I'll be grounded until I'm thirty." Del muttered before glancing up at Perry. "Could you possibly grab me a print out of the numbers? He might make it twenty-five years instead if I do something I'm supposed to." The man simpered and shook his head.

"Alright, Sweetheart, alright." With that he left the kids with the Kents. "Get back to work, show's over!"

"Sorry, Tim."

But the boy shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen? Military school? Please. Been there done that." Delilah could see Lois watching them a bit too carefully.

"If this kid ends up anything like them…we're in trouble." But no sooner had the words come from her, did Lois flop back in her chair. "So what did you have in mind? I think you're down to four minutes and twenty seconds." The woman said, watching Delilah as she automatically went sifting through her bag.

"I'll trade you an interview if you guys can swap some information and maybe an itty bitty favor."

"She said itty bitty, I'm scared now."

"Have either of you seen this in Metropolis?" The girl asked, handing them a fresh sketch of the nine circles brand. "We stumbled on a little girl's body that had this. I…"

"I haven't seen it personally, but I've heard about something like this." Lois said carefully, laying her free hand across her belly as if she were protecting it from unseen harm. "I have a few connections in the PD…and he—"

"We'll do some digging in this area and let you know what we find." Clark put in. "What's the favor?"

"A little girl—a friend of mine. When she was abducted, they started to brand her with that. GCPD says it something they've seen in the Nine Circles trafficking ring. She and her aunt just moved here to get away from it, and I…I think it's here too. I was just wanted to see if you could keep an eye on her."

"Got an address?" 'Atta boy, Boy Scout.

"A bat asking for help? Did Hell freeze over?" Lois whispered, forcing the teen to crack a sliver of smile.

"Dad and I aren't completely alike." Delilah murmured, as she stole a pen off of Lois' desk to scribble down the new address. "Just tell her you know who sent ya."

"Oh, so she knows…"

"She knows enough." Del said gently, pressing her hand on her chest. She wasn't completely sure what connections the child had made beyond Damian and herself.

"Sure, I'll keep an eye on her for you."

"Thank you."

"You've got about ninety seconds."

"How is the old man?"

"Driving us crazy until his skull heals. I think he's driving himself crazy. He's never fun when he has this much down time." Now Clark smirked, giving the girl a steady arm as she worked herself out of the chair.

"You shouldn't be up and moving around either." He commented watching her swipe up her bag from Tim's hand. But he just shook his head as the girl straightened herself out as if the pain wasn't bothering her.

"Fake it like a boss." Lois crooned, summoning a laugh out of the girl despite how much it pained her to breathe.

"You need to go on maternity leave or you're going to end up having that baby right here in the newsroom. You'll have to go through Dad to set up the interview…he'll agree to it as long as it's you. May have to skype or something."

"See? I told you."

"Oh, be quiet, Smallville."


Del could only smirk to herself as she worked her way to Perry's office. But the second she heard Clark call Tim back, she felt her lips fall. She couldn't be bothered with it, time was almost up. Picking up the phone, she bit back the dread, feeling her lungs fill to capacity. It didn't even have time to ring.

"I want you back here now! I'll send the jet."

"Don't. That's a huge waste of money." Del groaned.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Del could only smile at Perry as he slid her paperwork.

"I'm gathering some papers from Perry. Said hello to the Kents and gave them first dibs on my first interview."

"It's for Anabel, isn't it?" Of course he'd know what she was up to.

"Yes. I-" Do I tell him? Yes. Don't be stupid. Brazen good, stupid bad. "I got some information from St. James this morning." She said slowly. Not sure what to make of the silence on the other end of the phone. "I-I don't know if I can even wrap my head around it."

"You went to Arkham?" He sounded so calm, so rational. Now she was afraid.

"Yes, Sir."

"Get your ass-"

"Gotta go, Dad. I'll be home ASAP. Promise."

"Dead girl walking?"

With shaking hands, Del squeezed the power button on her phone until the device went completely black. "You could say that." She uttered, shuffling the new paperwork into her bag under Perry White's careful gaze. "Thank you, Perry."

But the man said nothing as he slipped the sketch from her fisted fingers. "Where did you…"

"You know it?"

Perry wiped his mouth with his hand. "I uh..." The man quickly turned around and opened his office door wide. "Why don't you come in a second." Unsure of what to make of the man's sudden weariness, Del slid into his cramped office, not minding the smell of cold coffee and warm ink. Newspapers were absolutely everywhere.

Raking a hand through his grayed temples, Perry hastily removed a stack of yellowed papers from one of the chairs by his desk. "Please sit." He murmured, lifting his head as Tim's shadow darkned the doorway, but the boy simply closed the door behind him as the man worked his way around his desk.

"One of my first stories was about an unsolved murder." He said quickly as he all but flopped into his chair. "Young college student." He said, pausing to take a gulp of his coffee, by the creases in his face Del was sure it was cold. "She had that on her arm. That was almost twenty years ago." He added as he leaned in on his desk. "How did you-"

"The body that we stumbled on...she had it." Delilah said slowly, watching something wet shimmer in the man's dark eyes. "Perry?"

"I chased those bastards for years." He said suddenly. "I had a little sister." Had. The single word made Del's stomach jolt. "They took her right out of her bed. Left their little brand behind, but there wasn't a single print."

"Were you-Perry, I'm sorry I don't know how to ask but, were you two on your own?"

The creases in the man's face went slack as his head lolled against the back of his highback chair. "How'd you…"

"I almost became one of them." The words didn't even feel real. "I have to make it stop. I-" The squeak of his chair covered her words.

Perry wasn't the touchy sort of guy, so when the man reached across his desk and took up her thin fingers into his paw like hands, Del didn't know what to think. "I'd tell you not to dig. Me. A journalist to my core. But it wouldn't stop you would it?"

"No."

Mr. White crumbled down to his elbows, hanging his head with a sigh. "Alright." With that the man straighten himself up and turned to the wall of filing cabinets. "I take it this is what you wanted to talk to the Kents about?" He asked, not even looking up as his thick fingers flicked through the folders.

"A little. Clark said he'd dig around here for me."

Perry only nodded his slowly graying head as he yanking a bulging folder from the drawer. "This is everything I had on it. Dated, and I don't know if-"

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. These aren't good people, Delilah." But as the man glanced at the girl sitting there across from his desk, he knew she'd seen that first hand. "Just…"

"Be careful?"

"Yeah. Does your father know what you're up to?" He asked as the color started to slip from his cheeks. The thought of the Gotham heiress poking around in the seedy underworld wasn't that appealing. (Especially when the girl's father owned the paper. )

"We'll talk about it." She said simply, trying to offer the man a weak smirk.

"Well that doesn't make me feel any better." He said watching the girl's face pinch as she worked herself up from the worn chair. "Go home would you?" He said, as the boy behind her wrenched the door open. "Oh, and Del…" The girl paused, watching him scramble to jot down something on a bright blue sticky note. "If you get a wild hair this is the man you need to talk to. Just tell him I gave you the number. You know you can call me if you need to."

"John Turpin."

"He's a good cop, a little full of himself, but he's an old bugger like me. Now go home before your father calls the national guard to retrieve you."

"I'm going, I'm going."

"Hey kid. Sorry I didn't catch your name."

Feeling Tim pause behind her Del couldn't help but stop to roll her eyes.

"Keep her out of trouble would ya, Tim?"

"Out of trouble? All she does is get me in trouble right along with her!"

"Shut if, Timothy. You like it."

"You got me there."


How far does the rabbit hole go? Mom. Venom. St. James. Mr. Collins. Nine Circles.

"You're awfully quiet." The sound of Tim's voice brought her back to the street, back to the feel of the winter sun warming her back as they weaved through the traffic on the sidewalk, dodging the looming shadows of the art deco buildings.

"I just…I can't make the connections." Del murmured, titling her head up to stare at the glittering mounds of glass. So many rounded edges. It'd be hard to anchor a line or use a grappling gun around here. Street lamps galore—it'd be too bright. No wonder Dad hates it here. He does his best work in the dark…

"You wanted to ask him about your mother, didn't you? St. James I mean." How did he always manage to do that? How did he always know where her mind was lingering?

"I had a choice. Either I ask about my mother and fill my own personal needs. Or I ask about Nine Circles and find a way to stop it." She said firmly, letting her gaze fall back to the boy. "It's all connected and I don't…I just can't see it yet. The rabbit hole just keeps going. I don't know if I'll ever find the end."

Timothy Drake simply paused there on the street, forcing her own moving feet to stagger to a stop as he held out his hand to her. "It doesn't matter how deep it gets. You won't be going through it alone. I won't let you."

His hand felt so sure around hers. These hands had bruised her chest in a rush to save her life. These hands were caucused and hard like her own and somehow her hand was swallowed in its grip. Without a word she let him lead her through the streets as if he'd always known them. As if they were as familiar to him as the streets of Gotham.

"Has Damian found anything on the Collector?" Damian. She half expected him to tell her to do her own damn work and yet he seemed just as perplexed by the puzzle that was unfolding before them.

"Nothing so far. But I-" The feel of someone's arm snaking around her neck stole the words right off her tongue. Without even hesitating, Del broke away from Tim's hand, locked the offending arm in place, stepped back and heaved the crushing weight over her shoulder the best that she could until a man's body hit the pavement before her.

"Mr. Devereux are you all right?!"

The air felt as though it was scrapping its way down her throat. Even as pressed her hands into her chest, forcing the tears of reaction to sting her eyes, she could barely recognize the toppled suit before her.

"Yeah…yeah. I'm fine. Damn, Little Bit." That voice. I know…

"Un-uncle Beau?" The words came out in choking gasps that vaguely tasted like blood. Before she could even string her thoughts together she could feel Tim's hand on her elbow.

"Deep breath. You over did it a little."

"Tim? What the hell are you doing here?" I know that voice too. And by the creases in his face, so did Tim. "You better start telling me what the hell you're doing hundreds of miles away from home." But he didn't even glance in Jack Drake's direction, his dark green eyes stayed on her as if her gasping breathes were too loud for him to hear anything else.

Half aware that Beau Devereux was peeling his scraped body off the pavement Del let her fingers fumble to her pockets, feeling the panic rise when her seeking fingers couldn't find the inhaler. It's okay. You'll breathe soon. It's okay. Finally finding the little object the girl could've closed her eyes, but no sooner had she pulled her shaking hands free did the inhaler slip from her fingers. It never hit the pavement.

"It's cool, I've got'cha." Why did his soft whisper feel so nice on her cheek? With his hands keeping hers still she finally managed to bring the thing to her mouth. "Did you forget you're not wearing the bat-suit? He murmured to her pulling the smallest of smiles from the corner of her mouth as the inhaler went to work. The second she lowered her trembling hands he let her go.

"Jesus…Uncle Beau." She managed, stealing a moment to force the air into her lungs. "I'm sorry…"

But the skin around the man's hazel eyes only crinkled as he wiped the scrape on his cheek with the sleeve of his suit. "You all right? What the hell are you doing out of bed?" He cried, squashing the girl in the grip of his arms. "You sure pack a wallop, you know that?"

"Uncle?" At the sound of Jack Drake's inquiring, Beau Devereux let the girl go.

"Oh, where the hell are my manners? Jack, this is my great-niece, Delilah. Little Bit this is—"

"Hello again…Mr. Drake." Delilah uttered sheepishly, watching her uncle's eyes grow larger.

"Oh, you've met?"

"Yeah, that thing with her is my son, Timothy—who isn't in Gotham like he should be." Jack said, watching how the boy just crossed his lanky arms over his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Del said with a swallow. At least her voice was coming back bit by bit.

"Business. What are you doing here? Does your father know where you are?"

"Yes. No. Sort of."

"Sort of?" Jack's brow shot up. "Uh, uh. We'll remedy that right now."

"Dad."

"Quiet, You." Jack snapped as he fished his phone from his pocket. For a moment Del found her eyes glued to Jack Drake's phone, feeling the dread begin to prickle at her skin when she heard her father's voice answer over the hum of the city.

"I'm really stretched for time, Jack."

"You're not missing a teenager are you?"

A pause. "As a matter of fact I am."

"Well I spotted her and that boy of mine just as I was stepping out from lunch. Consider her found."

"If I prepared a jet for your flight home, would you mind keeping tabs on her until I can come collect her myself? I'm out of range at the moment, and there's quite a bit she and I will need to discuss."

Jack tilted his head toward the girl. "Oh, she can hear you, Bruce. But sure."

"Good. I'll make the arrangements for you."

Had it not been for her uncle's hands cupping her cheeks, the girl was sure she could've slid to the ground. "You, Darling, are in deep trouble now." He told her, letting a bright smile dawn across his face. No wonder you were Mama's favorite. "Ah. I have something for you." He said suddenly, dragging her attention away from Jack's low muttering and the sound of Tim's shoe's scuffing on the sidewalk. "I meant to give it to you when we stopped by the hospital this morning, but you already escaped." He said lifting the flap of his soft leather messenger bag.

"We?"

"Gigi went straight there." He said slowly. "Sat there with your father in the waiting room until he finally told her to take her old ass home."

"Gigi?"

"Yep. There's only one Dragon Lady." He said, lifting a disc free. "I don't know how much of this you'll remember…" He said gently, cupping her cold hands around the flat thing. "But I thought you'd like it." With a pat on her hand he twisted his way back toward Jack Drake. "I leave you with you with the warden." He said lightly as the men traded a nod. "Jack, I'll contact you the moment I get any word."

Watching the men shake hands, Del could feel her cheek becoming trapped in her jaws. Just what did Jack Drake and Beau Devereux have to discuss? Somehow that didn't settle well.

"Well, kids, it looks like you're stuck with me." Jack stated, settling himself between the two as if he were separating them on purpose. "Isn't this gonna be fun?"


AN: I swear Jason and Tim are both in the next chapter, the set up was taking longer than I thought.