When the tears that followed that betrayed statement had tapered off, Charity glanced at her watch. "...She'll be awake soon," she sniffled. "She'll be awake, and she'll set off the New Madrid sphere."

Tim weighed his chances. On the one hand the girl was, as she had said, technically complicit in the whole scheme, and could turn on him with a vengeance at what he wanted to suggest. At the same time, though, she seemed to honestly feel and regret what her mother was doing. If Dick would just stir – he cast a fresh glance towards the other man, but again saw no signs of wakefulness – he might be able to tell him whether or not the wetness on Charity's cheeks had been caused by crocodile tears. I don't have your people sense, damn it, he groaned as he returned his attention to the young woman across from him. Help me!

"...You could still stop her," he risked.

She laughed helplessly. "No I can't. I don't know how. She's never let me run the machinery, never. I only know what I've told you because she told me that much. She said...she said she wanted me to appreciate my father's genius, and her own, as well, so that when this was all over I could tell...I could tell the world..." A few seconds passed as she buried her face in her hands again. "The only person who can stop her now is herself, and she never will. This is her life's work, don't you see?"

The fact that Charity didn't know how to run the controls despite her detailed knowledge of the science behind the system wasn't good, but Tim persevered. "We can figure it out," he urged. "I'm pretty good with computers, and once we can get to the screens you'll probably feel things start clicking in your head, things she's mentioned in passing. We can do this, if we work together." We have to, he gulped. We have to, or a lot more innocent people are going to die.

"I've already tried," she protested. "Not with the computer, obviously – I think messing with that is the one thing that would actually get my own mother to...to k-kill me – but through her. Didn't you hear us arguing earlier? I've been trying to get her to stop ever since I realized that she wasn't giving out warnings, but she won't. And if I force it...if I force it she'll hate me forever. She'll never forgive me."

He took a deep breath, trying to hold onto his quickly waning patience. "I know that's an unpleasant thought, Charity, but one person hating you can't be worth more than millions of lives."

She stared at him, her sodden expression giving him a sense of the battle being waged in her heart. "...She's my mom," she whispered. "I...I don't have anyone else."

"Yeah," he nodded sadly. "It sounds like she made sure of that by keeping you isolated all of these years."

The girl's head turned aside as if she'd been slapped again. "It wasn't like that. She just...she just wanted to keep me safe, and close to her."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she straightened and held up her hand for quiet before he could get a word out. "...What?" he asked when a moment had passed.

"She's awake. I hear her moving around out there." Dabbing her face dry, Charity tried to compose herself for her mother's arrival.

Tim didn't bother to pretend he was sleeping as footsteps drew near outside, but instead stretched as best as he could and began wiggling his fingers behind his back again. If Charity wasn't going to help him take down her mother then so be it, but her reticence couldn't be allowed to hold him back any longer. He had what information he was going to be able to get from their captors, and now it was time to prepare for action. Wake up, Dick, he pleaded silently as Tracy Collins entered the room. Even if Charity won't shoot us in defense of her mother,I'm going to need your help to take crazy down...

"Is everything all right back here?" the older woman inquired.

"Yes, mother."

Seeing that Tim's eyes were open, Tracy's narrowed. "You haven't told him anything, have you?"

"...No. We talked about other things."

"Damn it, Charity, I told you-"

"I just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't you, mother!"

"They're outsiders! They can't possibly understand people like us!"

"What, other humans?" Tim broke in coldly.

Charity looked over at that, but Tracy ignored him. "You must be tired," she ruled dismissively. "Your eyes are red as if you are, and that would explain your fractiousness. Let me set off New Madrid, and then you can get some sleep."

"Mother!" Charity called her back just before she exited. Her face had become hard again, just like right before she'd started sharing her story, and Tim had to stop himself from drawing an eager breath. He didn't know what the last straw had been for the girl – the childish way her mother was treating her, perhaps, or the way Tracy had spoken of setting off a major earthquake as if she was just going to take out the garbage – but he could see that she had come to a decision of some sort.

"Yes?" the older woman replied without looking back.

"...Thank you."

"Of course, sweetheart." And then she was gone, the jaunty tune she'd begun to hum lingering in the air behind her.

"I hate that stupid song," Charity snarled when they were alone and Tracy's noise had receded. "She hums it every time..."

"What was it?" Tim asked. It had been familiar, but he hadn't been able to place it exactly. Humming mass murderers, while not a new experience for him, were still relatively rare; he was curious as to what one other than the Joker might think was an appropriate preface to a crime against humanity.

"'Shake, Rattle, and Roll,'" the girl answered. "She loves Elvis."

Ugh. How cliché, he grimaced. "She knows that setting off New Madrid is probably going to leave Graceland a pile of rubble, right?"

"Oh, she knows. But she's never liked Graceland. She says that they should liquidate the place and give all the proceeds to charity."

"...Oookay then." He shook his head. "Listen, Charity-"

"Do you really think we can do it, Tim?" she cut him off. "Do...do you really think that we could stop her if we...well...if we work together?"

"I think we have to at least try. Don't you?"

She ducked her head. "...Daddy wouldn't have wanted this," she murmured. "Daddy would have hated what she's become. Daddy would never have killed innocent people like she has. But..."

"But what?"

"But daddy wouldn't have wanted her to die, either. I won't kill her," she warned, looking up. "I just won't. And if you do, or your...what is he, anyway, your brother?"

"Yeah."

"I thought so. You look enough alike. But if either of you kill her, I'll never forgive you. She's doing terrible things, I know, but...she's still my mom."

"We won't kill her, Charity," he swore. It was the first thing he'd been able promise her with certainty, and she must have picked up on it because she smiled.

"Then we'd better hurry. There's a twenty minute timer once she sets everything going, and that won't take long."

"You'll help us?" He felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards as the attraction he'd felt the moment he saw her flooded his veins once more. If she came over to their side there was a chance that they could get to know each other better when this was all behind them, he thought wildly. There were a lot of places in the world that she'd never seen; maybe they could go to some of them together. That was assuming that they stopped the earthquakes and survived Tracy's wrath, he allowed as she untethered him from the hook overhead and began to work on his bindings, but a guy could hope.

"...Is that a sufficient yes?" she asked when he was free. Trying to rub some feeling back into his arms, he stood up. They were mere inches apart, and while he would normally be a stuttering idiot at this proximity to a pretty girl he found that it didn't really bother him when it was Charity he was close to. Maybe it was because he'd seen her cry so much in the last eight hours; maybe it was because her forced isolation had made her as socially awkward as he was; maybe it was just the way her lip quivered as she, too, realized what little space separated them. It didn't matter – he liked it, regardless of the reason.

"I'll take it," he agreed. Would it be weird to lean in and kiss her when they were about to embark on a mission to save the world? It would be a waste of time, yes, but how much time was an opportunity like this one worth? He ran through every action movie he'd ever seen, calculating percentages. If he was remembering correctly the hero usually did kiss the love interest, but not until later. Still, he wanted to, and seeing as how one or both of them might very well die before the end of the day...

What would Dick do? rang in his head suddenly. If she was Barbara and I was him, what would happen? He knew the answer; his brother would take full advantage of the situation even though Barbara would surely give him a good-natured smack him for his impertinence. And Charity's not Barbara, he mused. She's not Barbara at all, and I'd just bet she's never been kissed...

It was dangerous, and foolhardy, and he would have to watch the doorway over Charity's shoulder lest Tracy come back in and catch them, but he leaned in anyway. The shotgun that was still cradled in the girl's arms tried to act as a barrier, but he ignored its cool metal touch and pulled her nearer. Thanks for keeping your eyes closed, Dick, he thought as their lips met. I really, really appreciate it...

Author's Note: For those of you who aren't familiar with the tune that Tracy was humming, I've posted it on my blog. See you Monday!