A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Sorry this chapter is late - we moved house this week, and the internet didn't get set up till today. Thanks to DaisyJane for the beta!

I'm at the mercy of unwanted emotions,

Where nothing matters beneath my thoughts,

Beneath my thoughts is where it happens,

Super heavy elements,

Embrace me,

Super heavy elements,

Replace me,

Was it a positive experiment,

To be indefinitely decadent.

Happy Now—Take that

Chapter Eight

Eventually, Kal went to bed, though he didn't sleep for another few hours. It did seem, on the surface, to be an impossible situation. But the more he thought about it, the more clear-cut their choice became. He had been right—the Justice League was there to save lives. That was their whole purpose, from beginning to end. They put their own existence on the line in order to protect civilians, to trade themselves if necessary. If one hero had to die to safeguard fifteen hundred people, then so be it.

Until Kal remembered who that hero was going to be. There was no possible cause good enough for Alexa to kill herself—except maybe this one. He didn't consider for a second it was self-preservation fueling her objections; Alexa was much braver than that and he had seen her put her own life in jeopardy without a second thought time and again. Her concern came from knowing the world as a whole (more specifically their world) might be put at risk. Was it really that simple though? No Wayne money, no League? He didn't want to believe it, but it did seem true. Which only left them with allowing the ship to sink and far, far too many innocent people to die.

He looked at Alexa through their bedroom walls and the interconnecting bathroom. She was kneeling, her eyes closed and mouth moving in rapid prayer. He caught Athena's name more than once. Goddess of wisdom. So she didn't know what to do either. He debated getting up to discuss it some more with her, but at the same time he didn't want to interrupt her. It looked like a very private moment. It had been a long time since Kal had prayed, or even since he could call himself a religious man. It hadn't been a sudden absence of God in his life, no angry feeling of betrayal. Maybe he was just too jaded for that kind of hope anymore. Maybe faith was for the young, or the close too death. Kal was old, and about as far from dying as he had ever been. He left Alexa to her prayer, and fell asleep a couple of hours before dawn with her mutterings still going on. Perhaps sleep was needed, to help clear his head and find a solution, since it was unnecessary otherwise.

He woke again when the noises changed, or more specifically, when he heard the splash of water. Knowing where he was, that was obviously cause for alarm, and he woke with a start. The sound was coming from the bathroom though, and that, along with the smells of lavender and jasmine, calmed him completely. There was a chink of golden light where the door was slightly open, where Alexa had forgotten to close it. She would notice him closing the door, no doubt, but equally she couldn't continue bathing with it still open. He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Looking was not an option. He wouldn't do her the dishonour. Even if she was wet and naked and only feet away, he wouldn't. He wouldn't. Not a chance. Not even the fraction of a …

At what point he changed his mind, Kal wasn't really sure. But at some point in watching her bathe, Alexa was suddenly worth more than fifteen hundred lives. If only for the fact that he would never see that mesmerising action again if that happened. The sponge went down into the water, up to her shoulder, warm water squeezed down the length of her back, stroked slowly over her shoulders and arms. His hands tingled to take over the action. When he felt the rest of his body responding to that desire, the spell was broken.

He turned and fled outside, no other word for it. It took a good ten minutes to master himself. And then the regret, the shame and the guilt set in. Oh God, the guilt. It wasn't guilt over Alexa—she knew what she was doing, and there was nothing wrong with it. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. No, the guilt was over the other woman. The other woman he wanted. The other woman he had always wanted. The other woman who was long-dead.

Footsteps approached; Williams. He was surprised to find his employer up so early, no doubt. "Are you alright, sir?"

He nodded. "Thank you, Williams. Just thinking about my wife."

"She's a beautiful lady, sir."

"Yes." Yes, she was.

God, he missed her. He missed her breathing and her voice and the way her violet eyes would crinkle at the corners when she laughed. Hadn't he promised to love her forever? And how could he claim to love her and seriously consider sleeping with another woman? It wasn't fair to either of them. Alexa deserved someone completely devoted to her—and he never would be. She'd always have to share his heart. And that was fair on no one.

She'd known he was watching her by the prickle. Normally, it was cold one, crawling down her spine when an enemy had their eyes on her. The instinct had saved her life more than once. Now, though, the prickle was warm, and then hot—and going the opposite way. And it wasn't of trepidation, but arousal. Goddess, it had been so long since she'd experienced true passion. She had needs, like everyone else, and normally she took care of them in the same way—she had a few fuck buddies floating around the country, depending on what city she was in at the time. But being with someone like him…the idea made her want to turn around and invite him into the bath with her there and then. The few times before she'd encountered anything similar to the crazy heat which existed between them, the sex had never failed to be amazing. But with Kal … it wasn't so much heat as a forest fire.

And Alexa was very ready to get scorched.

It didn't surprise her Kal wasn't. Aside from the factors of her parents, her age...she wasn't sure he'd ever experienced—or knew what to do with—electricity like this. She knew he'd been married once, too, so perhaps that still preyed on his mind. Especially with what her father wrote about Kal's marriage...he clearly understood love. But crazy lust...still, she did what she could to ensure he was never less than smoldering. Once, he'd been made awkward by her flirting—now he freely flirted back. When they sparred she was almost completely sure that the moniker 'Man of Steel' no longer applied to just his impervious skin.

But apparently he wasn't ready to give in just yet. Well, that was fine—Alexa always had been a good hunter.

"Ma'am, are you finished?" Ethel asked, after knocking softly on the door.

Alexa finished belting her robe shut. "Yes," she called, pulling out a towel and rubbing it over her hair.

"Which dress would you like to wear? I'll lay it out for you."

"The blue," Alexa said, picking out a colour at random.

"Linen or damask, ma'am?"

"Is it cold outside?"

"It is a little … brisk."

"Then the damask."

Alexa pulled on her undergarments, then let Ethel help her on with a corset, though thankfully she didn't pull it too tightly. Alexa still found herself praising those feminists who had thrown off constrictive clothing like this as she was laced up thoroughly. Ethel fixed her hair and she went out to the sitting room where Kal was waiting. They were served breakfast, neither of them mentioning anything about him watching her bathe, or her practically inviting him to do so. The idea and experience had brought her pleasure, but now was not the time to be discussing it. She hadn't forgotten their argument the night before, and she knew they still needed to reach a consensus, arrive at a plan of action.

When they were alone, she broached the subject. "I think we should look for other reasons for us to be here."

"I agree."

"Yes, but –" she stopped. "You do?"

"Yes. If you're right then saving the ship ends the Justice League and your life. I'm not prepared to let either of those things happen, and I don't believe whatever sent us here is either. Therefore there must be something else going on here that's hidden. We need to find it."

She nodded. "That's what I thought."

"Then do you have any idea what we're looking for?"

"No. At the moment, anything suspicious. Any passenger disappearances, engine malfunctions, crew acting strangely … anything out of the ordinary."

"Alright. And how are we supposed to do that while fitting in with the idle rich?"

"At night, primarily. If we can get away at any point during the day and have a little hunt around, then so much the better."

"Alright, I'll keep an eye out. And an ear," he said.

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Kal."

"There's no need to thank me."

"Yes, there is."

She left it there, and they spent the rest of the morning marshaling a plan. They would talk to and investigate as best they could the first class passengers, and see if they could get hold of blueprints of the ship. That was quickly taken care of; a walk around the deck had led them to the second mate, Mr Lightoller. While Alexa was charming the socks off him (though not quite literally), Kal vanished for ten seconds to ransack—carefully—the captain's quarters looking for some blueprints. When he reappeared, there was a very slight cylindrical bulge in his jacket. Then they had lunch, and managed to find a spare half-hour to look through the ship and find any areas anyone could hide anything. There was mainly the cargo hold, and some of the levels below steerage class—E deck.

Over the next few days (and nights), the two of them searched up and down the ship diligently. They looked for any technology out of place, any kind of contraband and found nothing. Admittedly, it was a big ship, but between the two of them they would have found rat trying to be surreptitious. And they had found all the rats.

What else they had found was absolutely nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary. It frustrated Alexa no end; if this were Gotham, she would have an entire network of informers, willing to tell her anything, but now if she wanted to find anything out then she had to use old-fashioned techniques, and try to charm secrets from lips. So far she had uncovered three cases of corruption, two of illegal business dealings and that one of the largest fashion houses in Paris was about to go under. But nothing that was unusual or backed up her hypothesis that they weren't here to stop the iceberg. Kal must have noticed their lack of success, she knew he must have, but he didn't say anything. In fact he seemed determined not to. She knew he left most of the night each night, and searched up and down the ship. Alexa didn't sleep while he was out of the state rooms, and just paced, trying to think of anything and everything else.

By the night of the fifteenth, she was convinced within herself that they were here to stop the Titanic hitting the iceberg. And she was also sure that Kal wouldn't let her. So now, the question became: How did she knock out a six foot four Kryptonian with nothing but some sleeping pills Amelia Chiltern apparently took, manufactured in 1912? Alexa was sure that it would work—but she would need about seventeen hundred of them. Which she didn't have. And which she couldn't possible force-feed Kal.

She let out a groan of frustration and started pacing again. If she only had her equipment! Following Bruce's word of caution when Superman had reappeared, Alexa had developed a compound that actually would work, with just a pinch of it dissolved in some kind of drink. Quite a clever little paralytic, if one she'd hoped never to use. And now she needed to, and she had no access to it. She went into the bathroom, and randomly opened the cupboards, pulling out anything and everything she could get her hands on and then disregarding them all almost instantly. Until her fingers paused. Because there was a little round pill box that she was sure had not been in there yesterday, or even that morning. It had a small bat, embossed in silver, on the lid. She opened the lid with a shaking hand. Inside was a quantity of faintly pink powder. She sniffed; there was an aroma of violets, very faint. The paralytic.

She closed her eyes and looked up. "Thank you," she whispered.

She slipped the pill box into her pocket. Now she had her method, she just needed the opportunity to use it. Tomorrow. It would have to be tomorrow. At the last moment. She smiled a little ruefully. At least she wouldn't need to worry about him forgiving her. And she now knew it had been the gods who had sent them here. No one else could have transported the drug back two hundred years to her precise location. It gave her a little hope for herself too. The gods loved champions who laid down their lives for people. If she wasn't completely wiped from existence, then she might end up in the Elysian Fields, and there were worse places for one's soul to spend eternity. She might even be allowed to view humanity, to look on her parents and friends. Watch someone else be a comfort for Kal. And she could bear that easily—just as long as there was someone to comfort him.

Finding she was blinking back tears, and not fully understanding them, Alexa left the bathroom, her mind working on the details of her plan. She was interrupted, though by Kal coming in, looking incredibly relieved about something.

"One of the passengers in third class has been murdered. Which is obviously a terrible, terrible thing," he added quickly.

"Any suspects?" asked Alexa, leaping to her feet.

"No, the Master-at-Arms has only just found the body. Apparently it was dumped in the cargo hold—there's a theory that they couldn't throw it overboard."

"Alright, I need to see the body. Let me change into the least-ridiculous of my clothes."

When she had changed, into an outfit designed for riding, they moved through the ship as surreptitiously as possible. Too many questions would be asked of two first class passengers sneaking about at three in the morning, so they kept to the darkness and shadows. Not an easy task when the ship was so brilliantly lit—but then Alexa wasn't Batwoman for nothing. Before long (and with only a few lightbulbs being blown out by Kal), they reached E deck. It was very quiet down here, below the water line, and cold, damp.

"We'll have to break the lock," Kal said, his hand already on the handle to do just that.

"Wait. Old tricks are the best tricks." She pulled a hairpin from her head and inserted it into the lock, maneuvering it carefully until there was a soft click from the lock. She grinned up at Kal. "I was made for a life of crime."

"Apparently so."

The body was male, aged around forty, eyes wide and staring when Alexa pulled the sheet back. She felt no squeamishness; she was no pathologist, but she often had to play the initial part of one in her line of work. "Cause of death, multiple stab wounds to the thorax and abdomen. They look to have been made by the same knife … defensive wounds," she said to Kal when he picked up the man's arm to look at the cuts and scratches on it. "He was trying fend off his attacker. Not that it did him much good." She took the arm from Kal, feeling the resistance when she tried to bend the elbow, though the fingers were pliant. "Rigor mortis isn't yet fully established … I'd say he died between six and eight hours ago, at a guess."

"His personal items are over here."

She moved over to Kal and shifted through the little pile of belongings. There was a small notebook, a wallet and a change purse—each with nothing in them—a chain and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. She picked up the chain. "Keys?"

"More likely a pocket watch," Kal said.

"So why leave the chain?" she mused. "Is there any evidence of him wearing any jewelry?"

"Tan line on the pinkie of his right hand."

She raised an eyebrow. "'Pinkie'? Haven't heard anyone call it that before …"

"Yeah, well, it was all the rage about fifty years before you were born," he smirked. "He's also wearing a crucifix."

"Cheap or expensive?"

"Expensive."

"Interesting. But all this money and his watch are gone—well, at least that tells us something about his killer."

"Random, crazed robber?"

She shook her head. "More likely a superstitious man who took what he saw as his due." She opened the notebook, flicking through the pages. "10s 5d on Sudan Sahara … 9 pounds 12s on MacCurren to win … He's a gambler. Look—he writes the odds and the bets he's placed here, and then records his winnings or his losses: meticulous, but compulsive."

"That explains that missing valuables," Kal remarked. "Whoever he owed money to took it. And if he resisted then he would have precipitated a struggle and he died that way."

"Exactly." She eyed him. "You look disappointed."

"No, it's just … do you really think this is what we're here for? If he was dead with no probable cause then yes, but this is obvious."

"So because the death is ordinary, it's beneath our notice?"

"You're twisting my words."

"No I'm not. That is essentially what you mean, isn't it? You think we're here for something extraordinary, and this is the opposite of that. But you're missing the flip side: it might not matter what's happened here, it might matter who it happened to. We don't know who this man is and we don't know if this is his destiny, to die here. If it isn't then Fate could have been disturbed, and that's what we're here to correct."

"Alright. So who are we looking for?"

"Possibly a book-maker, or the banker of a fight. The organiser. The reverence for the crucifix suggests Christian, Catholic. We might be looking for Italian, or Irish."

Kal looked sceptical. "Looking for an Irishman aboard the Titanic. Well, that shouldn't take long."

"Are you Superman or aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded sarcastically.

She sighed. "Sorry, Kal. But that is the most likely profile, and we don't have time to interrogate people the old-fashioned way. If you have a better idea, then please, tell me."

He nodded. "I'll look through the hull. What am I looking for?"

"There might still be some kind of betting going on—the last wager our victim made was yesterday. So bare-knuckle boxing, maybe, anywhere they could use for that. I'll look for people with bruises on their faces, bandages on their hands."

"And how are you going to do that, dressed for polo?"

"I was hoping this terribly gallant gentleman I know might oblige me."

Kal's eyes sparkled. "He might."

He vanished for a second, then reappeared, holding a bundle of clothes a lot less luxurious than the ones she was currently wearing. Much more appropriate. She took them from him with a smile. "Thanks."

"I'll go and scan the ship. Rendezvous?"

"Dawn, in our rooms. Good luck."

"You too."

A/N: Review please!