Somehow he was both sweating and shivering at the same time, but that couldn't possibly be right. His hands were so numb that he thought for a moment they'd been amputated, and every bone south of his left hip had been replaced by a rod of aching agony. Topping everything off was a steady, throbbing headache and the gross cold-but-clammy feeling that had roused him to begin with. ...What the heck happened...?

Confused, Dick swam the last little ways towards consciousness and peeked out at the world. The low light revealed rock walls, a dusty floor, and there, standing beside a small pile of tangled cord, two people sharing a rather private moment. Oh yeah, he thought as the events of the last several days came rushing back to him. Death and destruction. I remember now. The pair broke apart with an audible parting of lips, and he shut his eyes again hastily. ...Way to go, Timmy, he smirked to himself. It's about time you got the girl. Even if she is the villain's daughter.

A familiar groan told him that he'd been caught. "Diiick..."

"Sorry, little brother," he apologized, his voice coming out hoarse. "I swear I didn't mean to look at that exact moment. I just didn't know what was going on."

"Well, at least you were awake for everything," Tim sighed as he stepped away from the girl and came closer. "I was starting to get worried. Plus, we don't really have time to rehash everything Charity just went over."

"Wait," Charity frowned. "...You were faking being asleep? What...?"

There was a note of distrust in her tone, but Dick didn't have to lie in order to soothe it. "No. I, uh...I actually wasn't faking it. Sorry, Tim," he directed at his gaping sibling. "The last thing I remember, her mom was still in here."

"How did you sleep through all of that?! Oh..." The younger man's hand came into contact with the bare skin between Dick's bandaged calf and his sock, and his expression creased with concern. "Jesus, you're burning up!"

"Am I? That would explain this cold sweat I'm sitting in." A beat passed as they exchanged a significant look. "At least it held off until now. We'd really have been screwed if you'd had to drag me the last few miles."

"What's wrong?" Charity asked, finally stepping near.

"He's got a fever," Tim reported, his mouth tightening into a passable imitation of a Batman grimace.

Dick felt a cool, feminine palm land on his forehead. "Nice to meet you, too," he joked weakly.

"...Useless," the girl muttered, pulling away. "What are we supposed to do now? We can't carry him very sneakily."

"Hey, hey, hey," he squirmed, trying to straighten up against the wall. "I'm not useless just because I have a fever, okay? I can still help." Tim reached up and released the rope holding his wrists between his shoulder blades. "Ooh, ow...tingles," he winced as blood flooded back into his senseless fingers. "Anyway...you're on our side now, right?"

"'Our side'?" Her eyebrows shot up. "If you were asleep the entire time, how are you even aware we have a side?"

Clever girl. No wonder he likes you. "How could we not have a side?" he shrugged back as his hands were made completely free. "I mean...we are trying to escape from here, right? If so, I have to assume that that wasn't a farewell kiss I just got an accidental eyeful of."

Charity was visibly irritated, but her hackles dropped slightly as she accepted his explanation. "Escape...is that the first thing you think of, is running away and saving your own skin? What, are you that concerned about raising a fuss over not being the only people back here this week? We have to stop my mother first, before she kills anyone else. Escape..." She seemed to deflate a little. "...Escape is secondary."

"Look," Tim sighed as he worked on the ropes binding his brother's ankles, "Charity, let up on Dick, okay? First of all, he wasn't awake for the story, so he doesn't know what your mother's been up to. Second, you don't know him. I know you already kind of don't like him, but trust me, you should." Finished with his task, he regained his feet and turned to face her. "I promise, he's not the kind of person you think he is."

She blinked at Tim for a long second, her features contorted. "...If he's going to help us, then I will take your word for it," she ruled slowly.

"Well, that settles that," Dick pitched in. "Help me up, Timmy." He couldn't entirely hold back a low moan as he rose and his head began to spin. "Oooh, crap," he reached for his temple with his free hand. "Not good..."

Tim was tucked in tight against him almost instantly, supporting him as he swayed. "...Charity, can you get his stick?"

"I can, but we have to be quiet. If she hears us-"

"She won't," Dick forced out. Sort yourself out, Grayson. This is the final push, and you can't let Timmy do it on his own. Gritting his teeth against the nausea that seeing everything double was causing, he went on. "I can be quiet, even with a limp. What's the plan?"

She considered him for a moment. "...Tim?"

"I trust him with my life. You can, too."

"I don't suppose I have much of a choice," she gave in, then moved to fetch the makeshift crutch from the corner it had been propped up in. "Here."

"Excellent." Taking it, he repeated his question. "The plan?"

"...She'll be at the terminal," Charity explained. "Once she starts the timer she always waits until the quake occurs, just in case there are problems. I'll confront her there. You two should hang back while I talk to her. If...if she won't listen again, then maybe seeing that we have superior numbers will get her to back down."

"Are you sure you want to go up alone?" Tim asked, his voice heavy. "She's not likely to change her mind, you said it yourself."

"I know, but…I think I have to. I just...I just want to give her one more chance to stop on her own, okay?" she begged. "I know she won't but…I have to try. It's...it's important."

Dick and Tim shared another glance, but neither objected. "You know her better than we do," Dick agreed, trying to work himself back into her good graces now that the need for guile had almost past. "If that's what you think is best, then let's do it."

Charity stayed at the entrance to the side cavern while the men crept out and took up positions in the shadows nearby. Dick stopped as soon as he could safely do so, trying to ignore the urge to scream that had assaulted him with every step. Gotta do this, he coached himself through each sickening lurch. Batman's waiting. If we can just get this lady out of the way we can disable to force field and let him in... A vision of himself lying in his safe, warm, comfortable bed at home, Alfred leaning over him with a cup of tea while Bruce hovered impatiently nearby, filled his mind. Mm...that. I want that.

Only Charity's determined footsteps were enough to break through the daydream. She stalked past him, headed straight for her mother with the shotgun still in her arms. They should have taken the weapon away, he realized belatedly. Catching Tim's eye, he signed as much to him. But Tim shook his head and replied that the girl wouldn't use it, and that it would have looked strange for her to leave it behind. '...I hope you're right,' he sent back. 'A murderess wouldn't look so great on your arm at the Christmas Ball.'

'Tell me about it...'

A one-word address rang through the cave, putting an end to their conversation. "Mother."

"...Charity, what are you doing? I told you to keep watch on the outsiders for just a few more minutes. I'm almost done here; go back until I come for you."

"Mother, stop this."

"Stop...oh, child, how many times do we have to go over this?" An exasperated harrumph sounded. "This is for your own good!"

"What about everyone else's good? What about all the people who have died in your earthquakes?"

"Their loss is unfortunate, but in the long run-" She gasped. "Don't point that at me!"

"'The long run'? None of them get to have a long run now, mother! Don't you understand that?!"

A tense beat passed. "...You've been talking to them, haven't you?" an accusation swelled. "I know you've felt unsettled about the project lately, but open rebellion...this is unexpected. I knew I should have killed them before you ever laid eyes on them."

"You wouldn't have. You wouldn't have killed them at close range, and in cold blood," Charity rebutted. "You clearly prefer to do your murdering in bulk and from a great distance."

"Charity, I will say this one time, and one time only. I love you, and I understand that your head's been turned by one or the other of them – I was young once too, you know, and they're both quite attractive, so I understand – but you need to stand down. Think about everything we've worked for, honey. Think about the years we've spent preparing. Think about what your father died for!"

"Daddy would loathe what you've become!"

Leaning against the stalagmite that was shielding him from view, Dick winced. He didn't have to know the story that the girl had shared with Tim in order to pick up on the ireful pain in her outburst. To lose one parent and then watch the other turn into a serial killer...he could certainly feel for the young woman embroiled in the stand-off. At the same time he couldn't help but wonder if his brother had fallen for someone whose personal issues might be insurmountable when all was said and done.

There was no time for him to dwell on that question, however, because the high, clear click of a gun safety being turned off had just reached his ears. Shit, he straightened, clawing at his crutch. Timmy! he hissed mentally as his brother slipped out of his safe spot and began to make his way towards the women. No!

"...I thought you might threaten to kill me if I turned on you," Charity's wondering voice washed over him. "What do you think daddy would say if he saw us now, pointing guns at each other?"

"He would agree with me that you need to listen to your elders," the older woman growled. "Put the gun down. You can sit tied up with your lover-boy until you see reason."

"No. You put the gun down."

"Why should I surrender myself to the idiotic morals of a knows-it-all-but-has-seen-nothing teenager? I raised you to be smarter than that."

"Because you're outnumbered," Tim announced himself. "And because you know what you're doing is wrong." He paused. "...Don't point that gun at her, Tracy. You have no right."

Dick didn't need to be able to see to know that their opponent would obey his little brother's imperative by turning the weapon on him. "Shit, Timmy," he muttered, glancing around. There was no way he could get to him in time to push him out of the way if she fired, he knew. I would give anything for a Batarang right about now, he griped as he groped up a baseball-sized chunk of rock from the floor and weighed it in one hand. But I can make this work if I have to...

"You little bitch," was sneered as he hobbled out from his own hideaway. "You untied him. You not only turned on me, you formed a coalition. I am so disappointed, Charity. So very disappointed."

He could see the tears pouring down the younger woman's cheeks, and felt a twinge of sympathy. You really got the short end of the stick in the mom department, he mused as he hefted the stone he'd chosen. Maybe you and Dami can swap stories when this is over... Squinting until his eyes were nearly shut, he managed to get the world down to only one copy and zeroed in on the fingers currently brandishing a pistol. Here goes everything I've got...

Unable to maintain his balance, he fell to the floor as soon as the projectile had left his hand. A second later there was a nasty crunch, followed by a high scream of pain. "You bastards!" Charity's mother shrieked. "You greedy, hormonal, child-stealing bastards! Why won't you let me make world a better place?!"

Raising his head, Dick saw her start towards the gun that had flown from her grasp when her wrist broke. "Charity!" Tim exclaimed in horror as the girl swung the shotgun after her. "Don't!"

There was a deafening report as the larger weapon went off. A fine rain of dust covered them all, clouding his already sketchy vision ever further. Oh, Charity, I hope you didn't just do what I think you did... When the air had cleared slightly, he let out a long, relieved breath; against the opposite wall lay the pistol, its metal twisted into uselessness where the slug had struck it. ...Thank god you've got a better sense for people than you think you do, Timmy. If the girl had killed her own mother, he didn't know what they would have done.

But she hadn't, and it seemed that their adversary would have to give up now. After all, she wasn't a hardened criminal like the Joker, and there was no question that her position was untenable. Injured, unarmed, and outnumbered, there was no good way for her to keep fighting, surely.

As he dragged himself to his feet again, though, the older woman swept up a long, jagged sliver of rock and stumbled upright. "You bastard!" she wailed. Her face was full of righteous parental rage as she raised her rough knife above her head. "She was my daughter!"

And then, before anyone could react, she gave a piercing cry and threw herself onto Tim, slashing madly.