She had dreamed of him again. It had been so realistic that she didn't want to wake up. In the dream, she heard his voice . . . While one kind of pain still continued; another was lifted. She still hurt, but it was different now. One had been in her heart, but the one remaining was in her side, and it was nagging at her; pulling her from unconsciousness. What . . .?

Then it came to her . . . The elderly couple; the mugging; the knife; the violence. She remembered seeing the love the two people had had for one another and being envious of it. She had become desperate to save it despite her recent apathy for life. Love and life had gotten too complicated anymore, and she was just too tired to deal.

The couple hadn't deserved what was happening to them. Their love had survived all those years only to be cut short now? Standing by had been beyond her at that moment. Saving that was important enough to her that she had been willing to die for it. Besides . . . living hurt, Elle had discovered. So much so that the darkness had seemed soothing in comparison. The cold of the grave would ease the constant burning behind her eyes and release the pressure of the vise that had for three weeks threatened to crush her chest.

Now, she only hurt. Her face hurt. Her arm hurt. Her side hurt. But her chest didn't; not anymore . . . It was a fading residual ache rather than the sharp ripping pain she had been experiencing in her heart; the kind of pain that had made it a struggle just to breathe. The vise was gone and its absence made Elle feel like crying.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slithered back into her hairline. She sucked in a shuddering breath and rolled over onto her side. The movement pulled at the stitches in her side. A small whimper escaped her lips. Suddenly a hand slid over her forehead, gently pushing her hair back. She sighed; the tension in her body easing, and she pressed her face into the warm palm.

"Hey there, beautiful," said the voice from her dream. "I missed you. Open your eyes and let me see those gorgeous browns."

Afraid that if she did she would find herself alone again, Elle frowned. Her heart started racing and fresh tears slid down her cheek; one dribbled over the tip of her nose.

"Oh no, baby, don't cry! I'm here, and I promise I'm never going to leave you again!"

Elle opened her eyes, and gasped. "You are here! You're really here? I-I thought I dreamed you."

"No dream, baby. I'm really here," Dick crooned. He kneeled beside the bed; his face so close that his nose brushed hers. "I was so stupid."

He was really here! So, that explained the difference. Elle slowly began to realize the power that this man held over her, and despite the very real love that continued to burn in her heart for him, that he could so easily destroy her peace of mind frightened her. Dear God, thoughts of suicide had even begun to tease her just over the past twenty-four hours! She had arrived at the stage where she would have been willing to do anything to end the pain and sorrow that had come on the heels of his abandonment.

This so wasn't healthy! Everything that Brian, Morris, Shannon, and Jasmine had been telling her was right; and Elle really did need to get over Dick Grayson! Shannon had wanted her to go out with a friend of her brother's as a method of coping; using the man as her rebound guy. Not only had that felt wrong to do this person, but Elle honestly had no desire to replace the hole in her heart with someone else.

After all, she thought miserably as her eyes roamed greedily over Dick's beloved face, who could ever compare? If she couldn't have this man, she didn't want any man.

"It won't work, Bella."

Elle flinched in surprise by her father's voice, although she shouldn't have been shocked by the man's presence. She remembered giving his number to the paramedic as her emergency contact. Her eyes reluctantly moved away from Dick to the man sitting in the chair in the corner beyond Dick's shoulder.

She frowned. He looked terrible! Much worse than he had three weeks ago when he had barged into Wayne Manor and starting spouting inappropriate bullshit and making demands of her. The hate portion of their odd love/hate relationship was becoming more evident today. She hated to see her father sick . . . Elle knew he had been seeing an army of physicians. She also knew he hadn't been telling her the whole truth. It was part of the man's inability to believe she was even partly capable of handling the truth and life in general. She was curious to hear what sort of lies he had prepared for her questions about his health and appearance because there were always lies.

"What won't work, Poppa," she asked.

How dare he presume to know what was going on in her mind? If he had any clue about how she felt, he wouldn't have kept her confined and smothered and helpless for all these years. He would have wished her luck and stood back in order to allow her to live her life the way she wanted to live it.

"Pushing him away," Cedric told her. "It's too late for that."

"You don't know what he's doing to me, Poppa," Elle eased herself up on her elbow.

Dick raised the head of the bed so she could see the room without straining. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for that, Elle. I didn't understand that I was hurting you by staying away," he told her as he picked up a bandaged hand.

Elle pulled her hand away; grimacing at the effort it took when her entire being craved nothing more than to climb into his arms and never let go.

"So, you admit that you were avoiding me?"

"It hurt me, too, Elle," Dick admitted. "It was making me sick staying away from you, and that scared me."

The look she gave him was skeptical. "And yet you wouldn't even take my calls. Am I so terrible that you would prefer to be sick rather than pick up the damned phone?"

"Something happened that day you sent me the video," Dick sighed. He sat back down in the chair he had pulled next to her bed. "I was still at work when I opened and listened to it."

Guilt flickered across her face, and she caught her breath. "Did I interrupt something? Did someone get hurt? It was nearly time for you to get off of work; I thought it would be safe enough to send it. I only meant to cheer you up!"

Dick leaned forward and took her hand again. She didn't pull away this time. "No! No, it wasn't anything like that. I was already back at the station wrapping up some paperwork. But the station was a madhouse that day. We were filled to capacity with angry, violent people and their weeping, wailing victims; all of the cops present were stressed and angry and ready to commit a little police brutality at the least provocation . . . In short, it was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode."

Elle grimaced. "And I sent you that video at the worst time and distracted you . . ."

As the memories of that day flashed through Dick's mind again, he started to see it in a different light. Suddenly, all the potential danger that such a mood-altering ability was capable of was replaced by what had actually happened; a miracle . . . A blessing. That day could have ended so badly, and the reality of just such a danger had only just begun to enter his mind when he had opened Elle's video.

"You saved us, I think," he told her. His eyes were on the far wall as he thought about the incident from this new perspective. "It was loud in there so I turned up the volume. Anyway the noise started to die down shortly after that, and by the end of the song the entire precinct was calm. Everyone's mood had improved. Even the threats of violence had mellowed to an almost pleasant complacency. My co-workers were smiling . . . You're video totally defused the situation."

Elle was staring at him, confused. "Oh . . . I don't think I understand."

"I was the one who didn't understand, Elle," Dick clarified. "I was thinking if you could do this; make people feel things that was a lie, then was what I felt for you a lie also? I'm ashamed to admit that the possibility scared me. All I knew for sure was that there was something about your voice . . ."

"You thought I was manipulating you; that I was somehow forcing you to love me?" Elle didn't know how to take that. That sharp pain in her heart was back, however. She pulled her hand out of his, slowly this time, as she considered what this meant for them. "That's why you wouldn't come to see me and why you refused to take my calls."

"Yes," Dick admitted softly. "At least until I had some answers I thought it would be best if I avoided you for a time."

"So," Elle sighed, staring at her hands in her lap; her dry, normal-appearing hands. "I was right after all. I am a freak . . . A monster," she hissed. Tears escaped to run down her face and she clenched her traitorous hands. Even her voice couldn't be trusted anymore! "And you never even loved me at all."

"No! Elle, that's not what I meant," Dick exclaimed.

"Do you also label your mother a monster, Bella," Cedric's voice was sharp.

"No, Poppa!" Elle had forgotten her father was in the room. "But Mama didn't bewitch people with her voice."

"Ah, but she did, Bella. And as lovely as your voice is, Esmeralda's was far more so. Bewitch is exactly what she could do, and it was part of the reason she stopped singing in public. Her voice, as is yours, had been both a blessing and a curse. Her fans had been quite persistent and sometimes refused take no for an answer." Cedric shook his head sadly. "It made her very sad when she finally came to the conclusion that singing was just too dangerous a profession to pursue."

"I-I didn't know," Elle said. How little she knew about who and what she was. Why hadn't her father told her this before?

"You're grandmother as well. She won't even sing for family. There is a reason for that," he told her.

"Your grandmother is still alive?" Dick asked. He remembered Cedric saying something about that last night. "Does she has similar . . . talents?"

"I can only assume," Elle muttered. "She has never deigned to sing for me, not even after Mama was killed and I would beg her to. I don't even know if she swims or not. I've never seen her in water."

"I did . . . once," Cedric mused. "It was after I married your mother, but before you were born. But I understood that she would swim every day. She was amazing! But she felt uncomfortable with people seeing her hands. The webbing was far more pronounced on your grandmother and didn't completely go away when she was out of the water; merely receded a bit. Both you and your mother's webbing would disappear as your hands would dry."

Elle sat up more and glared at her father. "You should have told me!"

"I wanted you to have a normal childhood, Bella. It is all any parent could want for their child." Cedric exclaimed.

"You kept me practically a prisoner all my life, Poppa! Bodyguards, private tutors, private schools, never allowing me to have a say in any decision . . . How is that normal? And I am a woman grown now. What excuse do you have for continuing your silence during these last six years?"

"Fear."

"What?" Elle stared at him.

"Fear, Bella; that you would react in just this way," Cedric told her. "That I would lose you completely."

"And by extension, Mama," Elle grumbled. Bitterness turned her mouth down.

"I love your mother, Bella, as if she had never died; as if she had never left me here all alone. I will always love my Esmeralda. And yes, you do remind me of her, especially now that you are older, but you are not your mother. No one knows this better than I do," Cedric said, sadly. "But I love you as well. It is because of that love and the promise I made to Esmeralda on the day you were born, that should anything happen to her, I would remain with you instead of following her into death as I preferred."

Elle blinked. "You wanted to die with her?" As much as she had hoped to escape her father's overprotective grip, the idea that she might have easily lost him as she had her mother was distressing. Despite everything, Elle still loved him.

"It is the nature of the bond, Bella. It is why you must forgive Richard. The bond you have to him has eased into completion and is permanent."

"Wait, what bond? I have heard you talk about a bond with Mama and about my grandparents." Elle looked back and forth between the two most important, if also the most aggravating, men in her life. Dick was blushing and seemed suddenly fascinated by the roses sitting on the bedside table. "I thought you were talking about marriage."

"I suppose it is similar to marriage, but goes much farther and deeper than that, Bella. It is a connection between two people's souls; a binding of souls if you will. I spoke with that Atlantian fellow earlier and what he knew was almost identical to what I have learned from your mother and grandmother as well as from my own experience." Cedric said.

"Atlantian?" She looked at Dick to see is he knew what her father was talking about.

"I contacted an Atlantian to ask questions. He came with me when I discovered you were in trouble," Dick explained.

"And how was that, Richard? How did you know Bella was in trouble?"

"Jasmine called you, didn't she?" Elle glanced over at him.

Dick nodded. "Jasmine called me, but that was after I realized you were hurt and in trouble . . . I, um, I felt it."

Elle blinked. "What?"

"I felt your pain and your fear," Dick clarified.

"Something that only one's bonded mate can do," Cedric said.

Elle shook her head. "No, because that day I called you when you were so sick, the day after our first date, I had no idea. Well, I did as soon as I heard you croaking, but there wasn't any inkling that anything was wrong before I called."

"I have no doubt that the bond was created at some point during Richard's visits to the club, but it wasn't likely that it would have progressed to such a degree so early in the relationship. Now, it has. You will need to be in proximity to one another now," Cedric told them.

The couple glanced nervously at one another. "You mean that we should move in together?" Elle felt a little dizzy. This was going way too fast.

"That would be preferable, but not necessary. The bond doesn't mean you must live in one another's pockets or even that you cannot go on trips without the other for a time. You two have gone three weeks without seeing or hearing each other, and without explanation, that turned into something uncomfortable for the two of you, did it not?" Cedric was already nodding; sure of their answer.

"With a phone call or using skype, you can be a world away from one another as long as you are both reassured of your continuing relationship and can see and hear one another regularly. It was the complete separation and the uncertainty that made the three weeks unbearable. But with this in mind, you should limit the separation to around six weeks or less unless you wish to feel terrible repercussions. That has been my experience, at least." Cedric looked at Dick. "Twelve weeks, however, will likely kill her and her death would be so devestating as to make you long to join her."

"What?!" They yelled the question simultaneously.

"I said that twelve weeks apart, even with phone calls, would kill Elle. It could kill you," he said to Dick. "But you aren't Siren, so if you can last long enough without committing suicide, you will probably make it . . . Although the urge to follow her might never go away completely. I never pushed the envelope with your mother, though. She was so ill by eleven weeks that I was terrified I would lose her before I could get to her. But I will tell you this; to this day I still want nothing more than to join my sweet Esmeralda."

The room was silent for a long time as the couple digested that alarming declaration. They glanced at each other, but made no other move either toward or away. What the hell had they gotten themselves into?

The silence was broken when the door opened and Bruce and a blond man entered her room. Elle's curiosity was satisfied quickly once Dick's father realized she was finally awake.

"You are looking better, Elle," Bruce said. "How are you feeling?"

Elle's eyes flicked to her father and back as she answered. "Um, not that bad all considering. Thank you for asking."

"Elle, this is Arthur Curry," Bruce introduced the blond man. "He is half Atlantian, and he might be able to answer some of your questions. Arthur, this is Arabella Hamilton." Bruce was careful to not reveal too much about Arthur yet.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hamilton," Arthur greeted her.

"Call me Elle, please. Everyone does," she smiled shyly at him. "Well, everyone except for family and strangers, anyway. Have you ever been to Atlantis? Do you know Aquaman?"

Arthur's gaze went to Bruce and then settled on the young, blunt woman. "Yes, and yes."

Despite the overwhelming revelations of the past half hour, Elle grew excited. A real live Atlantian! Well, okay . . . He was half-Atlantian, but it was still so cool! A small smile appeared on her face; the first in forever.

"I was just attempting to explain to them about the bond," Cedric interrupted. "So, it is good you arrived when you did."

Arthur looked over at the elder man. He understood that Arabella's father was only ten years older than Bruce, but the man looked twice that. He could actually smell the sickness on him.

"It is likely that you know more about the bonding of Sirens than I do, Cedric, but I will do what I can to help," Arthur said.

"Sirens . . . That's the second time that has been mentioned. What is a Siren? I thought I was part mermaid or something like that." Elle glanced around the room. From the expressions she noted, it appeared that she was the only one still in the dark about who and what she was. The notion irritated her.

"Part-Atlantian," Arthur clarified. "But just like the surface world, the kingdom of Atlantis has several races. Sirens are but one of these."

"So, then you aren't a Siren," she asked.

Arthur seemed to stare at her for a long moment before answering. "No, I am not. In fact, you are the first Siren I have ever met." At her confusion, Arthur continued. "I'm afraid that your race is a dying breed. What I know of them is what I have learned in books as a part of my Atlantian education."

Elle frowned, and was silent. When she had learned that a man from Atlantis had come with Dick, she had hoped to meet someone like her; someone who could answer all her questions. Disappointment flooded her.

Arthur glanced at Bruce. "This is amazing. Her blood is diluted enough that her voice doesn't overwhelm, although I can easily recognize her emotions by the corresponding feelings that her voice sparks within me. She is irritated and angry and disappointed, I believe." Arthur looked back at a startled Elle. "Because of the news I have brought you?"

Elle gaped at him.

Arthur blinked slowly. "And . . . fear?"

"H-how did you do that?" She demanded to know. "Are you reading my mind or something?"

Arthur seemed to realize that the young woman was indeed everything that Dick believed her to be; innocent and naive and almost completely unaware of who and what she was. Without the dangers normally inherent to those of her race, she was rather endearing. He sought to ease her mind.

He smiled at her. "No, my dear. You are projecting."

Her frown returned. "Projecting? Projecting what exactly?"

"Your emotions. Sirens are beings with magical voices," he began, hoping to make this easy on her. He didn't want to frighten her more with images like those he had given to Dick and Bruce while on the Watchtower. "A full Siren can bespell others with their singing and sometimes with just their speech alone. Yours doesn't appear to be that strong, however. You don't bewitch people; merely project your feelings through your voice. I would wager that it becomes more pronounced when you sing," he said. "Do people weep at your songs or maybe become happier when you sing for them?"

Elle nodded, but it was an almost imperceptable movement. What Dick had said about her voice making people feel lies . . . It was all true? A part of her had refused to believe it, but now . . . Had she made Dick love her, after all? Was this all nothing but a lie to him? And what had her father said about the bond between them . . . That it was now permanent and Dick had no choice but to remain with her forever!

Oh my God! What had she done?

She looked at the man she knew she loved with all of her heart and soul panicked and horrified. Did he even love her? Was he trapped unwillingly in a relationship he had never actually wanted for himself? Was he even now being forced to live a lie because of her own inability to control her own voice and her infatuation?

Dick shoved Arthur out of the way and grabbed her hand. "What is it, Elle? What's wrong?"

Her free hand flew to her mouth, and tears once more pricked the back of her eyes. It was true! He was feeling her emotions! Oh God, what had she done?

"Poppa," she cried. "Th-the bond! Is there any way we can undo it?"

Dick gaped at her. "What? Why would you want to do that?"

Incredibly, this was what he had originally wanted; to not be forced into something he had no control over. But to hear Elle ask for the same thing stung! He quelled the urge to rub his heart.

Cedric shook his head, helplessly. "Not that I know of. As far as I can tell you have completed the emotional and physical bonding. It is done."

"There is a third bond," Arthur injected. "A spiritual bond."

He smiled a little apologetically at Dick. "I contacted Mera while we were in the waiting room and asked her to look up what she could on Sirens. She had only just returned my call."

Cedric was fascinated. "I was only aware of two bonds."

Arthur shook his head now, and shrugged. "There are apparently three. The emotional, which we all agree has taken place; the physical, which seems to have been accomplished with the act of giving blood; and then the spiritual, which usually happens once the relationship is . . . um, well, consummated."

"I thought that sex was the physical bond," Cedric said, oblivious to the embarrassment and discomfort of the couple in the room.

"Sex can be the catalyst for both the physical and spiritual bonding, unless something like sharing blood happens first," Arthur explained. He glanced curiously back at Dick and Elle, and paused. "Uh, hm . . . I'm guessing by your expressions that you two haven't bonded, ahem, spiritually yet?"

Dick turned his back on the room in general and ran a hand through his hair. Elle buried her face in her hands. The absolute ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on him. Never had so many people that were not his bed partner been so interested in his sex life! But what really was ironic was the fact that he currently had no sex life to speak of . . . The urge to laugh came on him so abruptly that he snorted.

Elle peeked at him through her fingers, aghast, which only made it worse. Dick burst out laughing. He waved a hand helplessly in the air as he struggled to get himself back under control.

"S-sorry," he gasped. "Just give me . . . a minute."

"I don't see that this is a laughing matter, Dick," Elle hissed at him.

If he could breathe maybe he could explain, but all of his air was being used at the moment. He was leaning on the bed when Elle kicked his hand out from under him in a fit of understandable pique. That he ended up sitting on his ass on the floor a second later did nothing to stifle his laughter. He rested his head on his hands and wheezed for several minutes more before managing to calm down and catch his breath.

He sat there amused until Elle squashed any humor left in him.

"So, how do we reverse it."

The determination in her voice had him scrambling to his feet. He had only just accepted this, and now she wanted to end it? A tiny sliver of fear shot through his heart. He suddenly didn't want it reversed. Had Elle fallen out of love with him? What happened to bonded mates if one of them didn't love the other? And if she was no longer projecting love onto him, then why did he still feel it?

"What are you doing?" He demanded to know of her.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she told him angrily. "Do you think I want to be bound to a man whose love for me is just some reflection of my own emotions? I don't want you if you don't truly want me!"

"How do you know what I want unless you ask me," Dick snapped.

"And how do you know what you want if you're under some kind of Siren love spell," she snapped back.

"You didn't do it on purpose, Elle! I understand you couldn't help it. How could you when you didn't know you were doing it at the time?"

Elle paused, surprise on her face. Dick suddenly realized what he had just said. He just admitted that he thought he loved her because of what she had inadvertantly done to him. But that wasn't what he had meant at all! Shit!

"Wait! I didn't mean it like that, Elle," Dick scrambled to correct this misperception.

Her gaping mouth snapped shut, and she looked at her father and Arthur furiously. "I want this undone, and I want it undone now! Fix this!"

"No!" Dick yelled at the two men. He glared at Elle. "I don't want it undone. Did you ever think of that? Maybe I'm happy to be bound to you."

She looked up into his face. His determination was reflected there in hers. But where his expression held a trace of fear; Elle's remained angry.

"It isn't fair, Dick! We both deserve better than this! I deserve a man who truly loves me; not a victim of my own infatuation and a couple of love songs! You deserve to fall in love naturally; knowing that whatever you feel in your heart is real. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I love you, Dick. I adore you, but I have to know that you really love and adore me, too."

She looked past him. "This is your fault, Poppa. You should have told me sooner. You should have warned me! Now, you fix this!"

"I-I don't know how." Cedric words eased the fear in Dick's chest somewhat.

"Figure it out!"

Elle's demand sliced a piece of Dick soul. He felt panic rising. He didn't want them to figure it out. However this started, he knew . . . He knew that what was in his heart was his own because his head was telling him that it was true also; that logically, he knew that Elle was his perfect mate.

Arthur sighed. "There is no cure for this that I am aware of. Everything we had found indicates that there is no going back. To attempt to do this would kill you, Elle, and very likely Dick, too. I'm sorry."

Dick watched as a tear spilled down Elle's bruised face. The purples of yesterday had already faded to greens and yellows and would probably be gone by morning. His heart ached with both her pain and his own.

she sniffled and scrubbed angrily at the tear; ignoring the pain such rough treatment would cause.

"That is unacceptable," she whispered, and rolled to her side facing away from the occupants in the room.

Here's a twist . . . So, what do you think of the story so far?