I wanted to have this chapter out last week, but I unfortunately forgot to take my computer charger with me when I visited my parents' house, and it's difficult to edit a chapter when all my editing software is on my computer, which had no charge. On a more positive not, that let me get a head start on the next chapter in this story, so I can start rebuilding my backlog of buffer chapters. For those of you who don't know, I prefer to have a buffer of 3-5 chapters between where I am writing and where I am publishing. It helps me put the feedback you give me into a broader context, so I know if I can actually implement it or not. It also means that if I get sick or have writer's block for a while, I still have something I can publish to keep you lot fed. For various reasons, relating mostly to me being lazy, I burned through my buffer over the last few months. I'm working on rebuilding it, but in the meantime, chapters may come out a little slower.

Like always, please send whatever support you can to the Ukrainian people. As Ned Stark would say, winter is coming, and while I have never been through a Ukrainian winter without power or shelter, I don't think it's something anyone should have to go through if we can help them avoid it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Chapter 13

May 2, 04:22

The Batcave

Harry didn't remember much of the flight back to the Batcave. He slipped in and out of consciousness, but even at his most lucid, everything was distant and fuzzy. He was aware of voices and a general sense of activity, then the roar of engines, then cool, damp air and more voices. At some point, he thought he might have been in a lot of pain, but it was hard to tell. Someone shone a light into his eyes at one point, which seemed rude, but he passed out again before he could complain.

He didn't know how long he drifted in the dark, but when reality once again intruded on his sleep, it did so with the force of a hand grenade. Light, sound, and everything else all came back in a rush. He shot upright with an almighty gasp. The only thing that kept him from launching himself off the examination table was a pair of strong hands on his shoulders. To add to his confusion, steam poured from his mouth, his nose, even his pores. It took him a moment to recognize the effects of a purging draught.

"Wha- what's-"

"Easy, lad." He recognized that voice. Alfred. It was Alfred. "Not too fast. I daresay, that was quite a shock to your system. Take a moment. You're in the Batcave. You were unconscious for almost four hours. It's okay. You're safe."

Before he could ask any questions, Sirius' face came into view. He looked worried. He also looked translucent and wispy, like a more solid ghost. The number of questions he wanted to ask doubled.

"Listen to Alfred, Harry, or I swear to God I'll hex you to speak Finnish for a month." Like the rest of him, his voice was strange. It sounded flat and hollow, as if coming from a cheap speaker. "You nearly killed yourself being stubborn earlier. Lie down."

Phantasmal or not, Harry knew better than to argue with Sirius when he sounded like that. He let the hands on his shoulders pull him back down onto the table. When he let his head fall back, he saw Bruce, still in armor but sans cowl, standing over the table. Dick, for reasons known only to himself, had somehow perched upside down on a stalactite above them. He, too, was still wearing his uniform, though he'd taken his mask off to reveal a concerned expression.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "Joker…"

"Back in Arkham," Bruce answered. "Along with his new… partner."

"That's one word for her," Robin snorted. "Get this. That crazy chick? Harley Quinn? Apparently, her real name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. She was the Joker's psychiatrist at Arkham. Some hotshot prodigy they brought in a six months ago. I guess he was the one doing the head shrinking, though. Turns out, she fell in love with him and broke him out in secret. She manipulated or threatened the guards into going along with it and covering it up. That girl is totally not whelmed. Not even a little. I mean-"

Bruce cleared his throat to cut him off mid-rant. "Robin and I were able to disarm the bombs before they blew. The GCPD and the Coast Guard are working together to remove the Joker Venom and bring the ship into port safely. It's over."

Harry sighed in relief and let his head sag back against the pillow. Sirius' ghostly face moved into his field of view and he frowned. "Why are you a projection? Did you hurt your back again?"

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes. "Because I'm busy with things. Because my body isn't on this plane right now. Because I thought, wrongly, that you'd manage your first night of patrol without facing a grade-A heavyweight like Joker. Because you came a whisker's width from boiling your brain out of your skull and Alfred had the good idea to call me for help. Any of those good enough reasons for you, or do you want to keep mouthing off?"

"I want to keep mouthing off," he shot back. Dick nearly fell off his perch, laughing. Sirius waved his hand and a miniature thundercloud formed over Harry's head. It rumbled and zapped him with a tiny lightning bolt with a sting like a hornet.

"This isn't funny, Harry," he snapped. "You could have died. You might have, if Alfred hadn't gotten ahold of me so I could tell him how to treat you. Dammit! I knew this was a mistake. If your parents knew I'd let you put yourself in so much danger, they'd-"

Harry scoffed. "Would you leave off?! I'm fine."

"Fine? Fine?!" Sirius' face turned beet red even through the projection. "Your brain was bleeding in four different spots. You-"

Clap!

"Enough!" Bruce thundered. "Black, I let you in here on the promise you wouldn't cause a fuss. Tonight's events were unfortunate, but Harry was not responsible for what happened. His actions were reckless, but he was in an extreme situation and he made the best of it. In doing so, he likely saved thousands of lives. If you want to be angry at someone, blame me. It was my failure that Joker escaped without anyone knowing. I should have monitored Arkham more closely."

Harry felt his ego swell a little at Bruce's words, only for it to deflate when that icy glare turned on him. "As for you, your godfather is right to be concerned. You left yourself critically injured and vulnerable. If Robin and I had been even a few seconds slower, Joker would have killed you. Tomorrow, you will tell me exactly what happened, and we will go over your mistakes in detail, and devise a training plan to ensure you don't repeat them. Am I understood?"

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Bruce wanted to turn this whole thing into a teaching moment. The man never missed an opportunity to inflict self-improvement upon others. His mulishness must not have been as well hidden as he'd thought, though, because Bruce loomed closer and sharpened his glare.

"Is that understood?" He repeated.

"… yes," Harry sighed. It wasn't like there was another possible answer. Besides, he could admit, if only to himself, he'd been a little reckless in how he'd handled escaping his chains. And in throwing spells around during the fight. Then there was how he'd stumbled into an obvious trap and gotten himself kidnapped. And also-

'Okay, maybe Bruce has a point,' he thought. In his head, he could see Hermione's exasperated expression and Ron's rueful grin. If they were there, Hermione would have already launched into a fact-laden lecture on his reckless habits, while Ron would have chimed with a helpful "she's right, mate" whenever she remembered to breathe. The thought of his old friends reminded him of someone else. Someone he hadn't noticed yet.

"Where's Artemis? Is she alright?"

… For a long moment, everyone just stared at him blankly. Finally, Dick was the first to speak.

"Who's Artemis?" At first, Harry thought he was joking, but there was genuine confusion in his eyes. He looked around and saw the same confusion reflected in Bruce, Alfred, and Sirius.

"What are you on about? Artemis. The girl who helped me out on the boat. Long, blonde hair in a ponytail, athletic build, maybe 5'4", tan skin, and grey eyes." The light of recognition conspicuously failed to dawn in any of their eyes. He felt a spike of worry in his gut. If she wasn't here, then what had happened to her? He tried to remember when he'd last seen her during the fight, but the events were a jumbled blur. He wasn't sure what had happened or in what order. He looked around again, desperate to see any comprehension on their faces, but there was nothing. His voice rose nearly to a yell. "You couldn't have missed her. She had a bow and arrows, for Merlin's sake!"

"The only people we found on that ship aside from you were the Joker and his gang," Bruce said. "There was no one who matched that description. But the GCPD recovered several arrows from the scene. I'd assumed you had conjured them in the fight."

"No, those were hers. She even-" he broke off as his brain finally disgorged its memories of the mad fight against Joker's goons. The worry in his stomach bloomed into full on panic. "Oh shit. I lost track of her when Joker tackled me, but the last time I saw her, she was fighting Harley Quinn. I don't think she was winning. If she wasn't on the ship…"

"She must have ended up in the water," Dick finished. His words were a ratchet on the tension in the air. Gotham Harbor wasn't as lethally frigid now as it had been in the winter, but even at the height of summer you could still get hypothermia from a dozen minutes' of exposure. The cold water, strong currents, and plentiful sharks made it dangerous for swimmers in the best of circumstances. Getting tossed in without proper gear after losing a fight was not the best of circumstances.

Bruce sprang into action immediately, but Harry wasn't listening. He thought he heard something about the Coast Guard and maybe a search pattern, but mostly what he heard was the sickening crack Artemis' arm had made when Harley broke it and her scream of shock and pain. She'd saved his life at least twice on that boat. Probably more. He still couldn't remember a lot of the fine details, but he remembered enough to know he'd barely contributed. All he'd done was stumble about, insist they put themselves in even greater danger rather than escape immediately, and cast a few spells.

'Wait. That's it! I cast a spell on her. I cast a spell on her.'

An idea crystallized in his mind and he felt out his magic. It responded to his call, but not as sharply as he might have preferred. His control felt serviceable, but not back to his full level. Nevertheless, it would have to do.

'My wand. I need my wand to make this work.' He could feel it close- there it was. On his study table, next to his coat and utility belt. 'Great. Now I just need to get to the Tower without Sirius having a stroke. Easy.'

He levered himself upright and then onto his feet without issue. When he summoned his wand to his hand, his head throbbed once, but that was all. From Sirius' expression when he saw him, though, he might as well have started bleeding from the eyes. Despite having no more substance than a scrap of mist, he managed to stomp over and thrust a finger at his chest.

"Harry, so help me, if you don't get back on that table right-"

That was as far as he got before Harry tried to Disapparate. Tried. As fast as he was with it, Sirius was even faster. He felt the barrier slam into place, blocking his attempts to get to the Tower.

"Let me go?" He insisted.

Sirius' eyes went wide. "Let you- absolutely not! You are not-"

"Yes, I am," he interrupted again, knocking the finger away from his chest. He barely noticed that he'd somehow made physical contact with the immaterial projection, but Sirius recoiled in shock.

"How did you-"

Again, Harry spoke over him. "She saved my life, Sirius. More than once. She could be stranded in the water. I know she needs medical attention. I can help find her, and I'm going to. There isn't time for a debate. This is happening. Now, let me go!"

Sirius shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you're in no fit state to-"

"DAMMIT, SIRIUS!" He roared. Magic surged inside him, answering the call of his anger. Almost faster than he could think, he lashed out with it and slashed right through the delicate skein of enchantments holding Sirius' projection together. It was impulsive and stupid and he was definitely going to pay for it later, but right now, he just didn't have time. His godfather barely had time to look surprised before his form burst into a million motes of golden light and faded away.

He turned to look at the other three people in the cave, all of whom had stopped what they were doing to stare at the two of them. Bruce was inscrutable and Dick looked more amused than anything else, but Alfred was frowning at him in clear disapproval. He winced at that. No doubt he had several days of bitter tea, lukewarm toast, and stale snacks to look forward to. Alfred was rarely open in his criticism, but somehow he always got the point across, anyway.

"Sorry, but- well…"

"You think you can find her." It wasn't a question. He sighed in relief at that. There was no time to answer questions.

Harry nodded. "I cast a spell on her while we were sneaking around the boat. A basic Veil, but I should be able to track it. Just give me one moment. I have to get something from the Tower, first."

He didn't wait for a response before he Disapparated. As he'd expected, with Sirius' projection gone, the hasty ward he'd erected had fallen. The familiar sensation of squeezing through a too-small rubber tube while spinning like a top took hold. After a timeless moment of suffocating discomfort, he reappeared in a familiar forest clearing. The Tower loomed in front of him with its typical monolithic intensity.

As soon as he landed, a wave of dizziness and nausea nearly cost him his balance, and he had to lean against a tree until it passed. Fortunately, it was nowhere near as bad as it had been on the ship when he'd tried casting through a haze of drugs and pain. As soon as he was confident he wouldn't make a meal of the leaf litter with his next step, he pushed off the tree and dashed into the Tower. It opened to his touch, just like always, and he made a beeline for the library.

There were literally thousands of different ways to track something magically, and they all depended on what you were looking for and what you had available to trace it. For people, the best methods used a bit of hair, some blood, maybe a nail clipping. Barring that, you could track someone with a photograph, a blood relation, a strong emotional connection, even a name in a pinch. The less you had, the harder it was, and all the methods required different spells. The method he was planning to use was one of the most complicated and finicky of them all. He'd only read about it once, back when Sirius was teaching him the basics of tracking spells, and he wasn't about to attempt it for the first time without a guide. Not when Artemis' life could be in danger.

It took him an uncomfortably long time to find the right book, though he supposed a few minutes wasn't much compared to what it could have been if it had been buried deeper in the library's shadowed recesses. He and Sirius had lost more than a few days navigating their way to some distant corner of the stacks. Luckily, the slim blue tome of Findyng the Fyckle Vol. 6 was merely tucked a hundred yards or so from the door.

Five minutes later saw him back in the Batcave with the book open to the relevant page. Arcane formulae and cramped text covered the yellowed paper. He traced the description with one finger over and over. It wouldn't do to make any mistakes. Bruce and Dick stood off to one side, giving him space. It wasn't the most complex spell he'd ever attempted, let alone read about, but it wasn't a walk in the park, either. Eventually, though, he had to concede he'd gotten as much from the page as he could without making an attempt.

"I think I'm ready," he said. "I'll need a map."

Bruce pulled up a map of Gotham on the Batcomputer. He nodded. That would do.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, and reached for his magic. Instantly, it filled him. Everything became more vivid, more real. That rush of energy through his veins would never grow old. He took hold of the power and molded it into the shape of the concealment spell he'd used on the ship. It was difficult to shape a spell like that without actually casting, like molding overly wet clay with an attitude problem. Twice it slipped from his control and collapsed, forcing him to start over. On the third try, though, he managed it. With the hollow shape of the spell stable in his mind, he let it expand outward. It grew and grew beyond his body, beyond the cave, beyond the manor grounds. It pulsed outward, not unlike a sonar burst, and all he had to do was listen for the echo.

"Inveni Incantato. Pare Revertum. Inveni Incantato. Pare Revertum. Inveni Incantato. Pare Revertum."

With every repetition of the incantation, his net grew wider and wider. The spell he'd cast on Artemis would have left traces, like a mystical fingerprint. Normally, in an area as flush with evil and darkness as Gotham, those traces would have gotten lost under the general interference that hung over the city like thick fog. Sure enough, when his spell met the fetid belch of Gotham's psychic miasma, it threatened to unravel. It wasn't active magical interference, but it didn't need to be. Any large concentration of strong emotions had a magical effect, and Gotham had been a cesspool of crime and despair for the better part of four centuries, now. The sudden feedback was like fifty people screaming in his ears while someone coated his skin in hot tar.

For a moment, the spell wavered on the edge of collapse. He gripped his wand with both hands and poured more and more power into the spell matrix until even Gotham's toxic atmosphere couldn't chew through it. The headache which had steadily been building behind his eyes ratcheted from a dull ache to a spike of hot steel drilling into his frontal lobe. The room spun around him, and he felt himself begin to fall. Before he could topple over, though, Dick raced over and let him lean on his shoulder.

"If you pass out, I'm gonna shave your head," he whispered. "Stay whelmed and kick this thing's ass."

Harry snorted and shot the younger boy a grin. Dick grinned back, and with that crooked grin came a wave of strength. His shaking limbs steadied. The pain in his head receded, and a fresh surge of magical power welled up from deep within him. It was as if the bottom had dropped out from the well of power within him. For a moment, he had an impression of a massive ocean of arcane power; more than he'd ever thought he could wield. Then, with a mental heave, Harry seized a handful of that power and forced his spell to expand across the whole of the city.

Instantly, the echoes of dozens of spells bounced back to him. All of them were his. Gotham didn't have much in the way of a magical community, and those few spells from local practitioners didn't resonate with his tracking spell like his own magic did. The last seven months had seen him cast plenty of spells in Gotham, though, and a few had been powerful enough to leave traces for all that time. Most were faint, almost imperceptible whispers. A monitoring spell here, from his surveillance training. A few wisps of a shield there, from when Bruce had ordered Robin to chase him across the Financial District with an airsoft gun. Some, most notably the spell he'd used to light Joker's ship on fire earlier that night, rang like gongs. Weak or strong, though, they were all discordant. All of them clashed harshly against the shape of his tracking spell. All of them but one.

The remnants of the veil spell slotted perfectly into the hollow framework he'd created, resonating like a crystal bell. With a relieved gasp, he let the tracking spell collapse back into him and channeled it into the map. A glowing red dot appeared, but not in the water. Rather, it was in-

"Gotham Heights?" Bruce didn't sound surprised, but then he never did. Nevertheless, the question in his voice was clear.

Harry sagged against Dick, who helped him slump into a chair. That final burst of effort had left him feeling like a freshly wrung towel. It took him a few seconds to get his breath back enough to speak.

"That's where I felt the spell. She must have made it back to shore somehow."

Dick moved to the computer and pulled up the address. "174 Sprang Boulevard. It's a mid-rise apartment complex." He pulled up the list of residents and winced. "There's got to be at least 500 names here. It could take a while to sort through them. I'll get-"

"No." Bruce, cowl on once more, cut him off and closed down the computer. Harry and Dick both looked at him in surprise when he went a step further and locked the system completely. "I'm going there now. Both of you will stay here. Harry, get some rest and some food. Dick, do your homework."

Dick shook his head. "B, what's going on? I can help."

"No," Batman reiterated as he got into the Batmobile. "Consider the case closed. If I need assistance, I'll contact you. Unless that happens, stay here. That's an order, and don't try to slip by Alfred. I already let him know you're both to stay here."

Before either of them could argue further, he was gone in a roar of engine noise. Dick swore in Romani and (covertly) flipped the bird at the rapidly departing car. Harry watched, nonplussed but too tired to do much about it.

"That was… weird, right?" He asked once Dick had finished befouling the air.

The boy snorted. "Yeah. He hasn't shut me out like that in a while, and never over something so stupid." He walked over to the computer and tried a few keys. Nothing happened. He tried a few more. Nothing continued to happen. "Gah, sonuva- he really locked me out of the system. I can't even turn it on. Who is this chick?"

Harry looked down the tunnel where the lights of the Batmobile had vanished into the gloom and frowned. "I don't know. But I plan to find out."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

May 2, 05:31

Gotham City

Artemis moaned softly as her back slid down the door of her room. The nasty, threadbare carpet wasn't much of a cushion. In fact, between her soaked clothes, bruises, and aching muscles, she'd have sat in a pile of used needles at this point. Her legs refused to support her for another second.

Successive waves of pain washed over her body. There was a pounding in her head that spoke of either a concussion or a skull fracture, and she was just so excited to find out which. She had a black eye, a split lip, her nose was bleeding, there were bruises all down her back and legs, and at least one of her ribs felt broken. None of those held a candle to the tube of fucking lava that was her right arm, however. That crazy clown bitch had broken her wrist with a fucking plank. What sort of bullshit was that? To cap it all off, someone had also punched her in the tit, which was just rude.

Oh, and she'd also lost her bow, all her arrows, and her quiver. Plus, her armor was soaked through and probably ruined. Not that it had been very good, or anything she actually wanted to be seen in, but it had been hers, and there weren't a lot of things on that list. A lot fewer, now.

The worst thing by far, though, was the cold. She was freezing. It hadn't been an especially chilly night, but it hadn't been warm, either, and the wind had picked up. That, added to her prolonged dip in Gotham Bay's ever frigid waters, equaled a thoroughly frozen Artemis. Even her bones felt chilled. Numbness had long since crept over her extremities. She wished it would hurry up and creep over the rest of her. The violent shivers that wracked her body were murder with busted ribs.

"Fuck." She slumped to one side, strength completely gone, but her head clunked against the door frame, which did not help things in any way shape or form. She curled up instinctively to cradle her throbbing cranium, which only made her ribs clamor for their share of the fun.

"Fuuuuuck. Motherfucker."

She wasn't sure how long she lay there. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten back home. That clown bitch (and oh, but was going to shove an arrow up that woman's cunt the next time she saw her) had broken her arm and kicked her ass. Then the damn Bats had shown up in some fancy-ass plane, she'd wound up in the fucking water, and climbing back aboard hadn't been an option. So, because fuck her life with a rusty tent stake, she'd swam back to shore. With a broken arm. At night. Not even Crusher had ever made her do something that crazy. As for how she'd gotten halfway across the city and into her apartment without some creep trying his luck, she hadn't a clue. Odds were, the only reason no one had snatched her was she'd looked as much like a shambling corpse as she felt.

'Figures. My first night as a "hero" and I'm already doing crazy, stupid shit. I guess Marauder's not the only one.' She chewed on her lip at the thought of the mad, kidnapped wizard she'd gotten herself in such trouble to save. 'God, I hope he made it out of there okay. He had to, right? I mean, Batman was there, so everything's fine. It's gotta be. 100% okay. I mean, it's Batman.'

She knew if she just turned on the radio, or the TV, or just pulled out her phone and checked the news, the very first report would probably be about the Joker's capture. The effort involved in literally any of that was just too much, though. Better to just lie on the carpet and drift. She didn't dare fall asleep; not with an unexamined head wound and hypothermia, but she was so very, very tired. It couldn't hurt to just lie on the floor with her eyes closed for a few minutes. Maybe an hour. Or a month. Just until things didn't hurt so badly.

"Artemis Crock?"

Her eyes snapped open. That voice had come from inside her room. Someone was in the room with her. She looked up, already regretting the loss of her bow, and her eyes landed on a towering figure of black shadows standing in the middle of her room. Two white eyes like burning coals glowed from a glowering face. Twin ears rose like devil horns from its head. Across its chest was blazoned the emblem that had come to mean fear and pain for every criminal in Gotham. The Batman was in her house. The Batman was right in front of her.

"Yeeeeekk!" She shrieked, and in a moment of pure, terrified instinct, tried to scramble away from the monster that had just appeared before her. In her haste, she once again clipped the door frame with her head. Hard. Pain took a sledgehammer to her world, and her vision dissolved into sparkles of light. Things turned fuzzy for a while after that.

She wasn't entirely sure of everything that happened next, but by the time she could focus on anything other than her skull trying to turn itself inside-out, she was sitting at her kitchen table with a splint on her arm and an ice pack taped to the side of her head. Batman, the fuck-mothering Batman himself, was standing across the table from her. She was in dry clothes, which was a little freaky, because there was no way she'd gotten out of her wet stuff without help, but the feeling of being warm was just too good to be upset. If Batman had seen her naked, then Batman had seen her naked. Worse things had happened in her life. Hell, worse things had happened to her so far that day. Besides, the alternative had probably been freezing to death in her own bedroom, and that would have just been humiliating.

There was also tea and chicken noodle soup. Tea and soup had happened. She hadn't made them, and the only other person there was Batman, but the thought of the Dark Knight standing over a stove making her soup was just too much, so for the moment she just thought of them as things that had happened. Like Christmas presents or the sunrise.

"What's… going on?" She asked hesitantly. Being in the same room as Batman had been a nightmare of hers for years now. Even if he hadn't yet hog-tied her and thrown her out a window, she wasn't ruling it out.

"You have a mild concussion," he said, as if that explained anything at all. Were all hero types so bad at explanations? "Also a broken radius, a fractured zygomatic, extensive deep bruising, two fractured ribs, and a bad case of exhaustion and hypothermia. You were only semi-conscious when I arrived. Eat."

She ate. If she was going to go to Blackgate, she wasn't about to go on an empty stomach. At least, she hoped it would be Blackgate. He wouldn't send her to Arkham, right? Right? Only the freaks ended up in Arkham. But then, he'd found her in a costume, and costumes wound up in Arkham, too.

'Oh shit,' she thought as the enormity of what was happening crashed down on her head. 'The Batman is in my apartment. He knows who I am. Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck…'

This had been her nightmare for six years now. Worse even than Crusher deciding she was too much trouble and leaving her to rot. Her heart rate tripled. Suddenly, her fingers were shaking too much to hold the spoon. It slipped and vanished into the bowl of soup with a splash. Batman's eyes narrowed, and she had to wrap her ankles around the legs of the chair to keep from shrinking back.

"What's-"

"Don't send me to Arkham!" She blurted. Blood rushed to her face, but she couldn't stem the tide of words from her mouth. "Send me to Blackgate. Hell, send me to Belle Reve. Just not Arkham. Please. Anywhere but Arkham."

There was a pause before he responded. "What are you talking about?"

Her jaw dropped. "You're here to arrest me, right? I mean, you know who my parents are. Wait, do you know who my parents are?" She clapped her hands over her mouth. Oh, do. What if he hadn't known and now she'd just told him? She was so going to Arkham.

"You are Artemis Crock, younger daughter of Lawrence Crock, AKA Sportsmaster, and Paula Nguyen Crock, AKA Huntress." Well, there went any hope he didn't already know everything about her family. "Your sister is Jade Nguyen, whom I suspect is a member of the League of Assassins."

"Hey, my mom didn't do anything!" She yelled. Anger briefly overcame her fear. Whatever happened to her, no way was she letting her mom take the fall. "She doesn't even know about me going out. She's out of the life. She's in a wheelchair, for fuck's sake. Take me in if you want, but leave her the hell alone."

He sighed, and suddenly he didn't look quite so terrifying. In fact, he looked almost… sympathetic. "I am not here to arrest you, Artemis. I'm here to thank you."

Her brain shut off. All the worry and anger and fear didn't vanish, but it suddenly lost its anchor in reality. Her emotions flapped loose in the wind as she tried to process what he'd just said with a semi-functional brain. She stared at him for a long, silent handful of seconds. "… what?"

"I said, I'm not here to arrest you, Artemis." She braced herself for him to sound annoyed, to add the "but", only it never came. His voice was calm and patient, though still scary as all hell.

"I… oh." She winced and felt her blush deepen. "Um, sorry for yelling at you, I guess."

He just stared at her, unblinking. At least, she didn't think he was blinking. Who knew what was going on under that mask. Maybe he was taking a nap.

'Okay, get it together, girl,' she told herself. There was still too much she didn't understand for her to go all loopy.

"Since you're here, I'm guessing Marauder is okay. Like, not dead or anything?"

"Marauder is fine. In better shape than you, as a matter of fact." She glared at him, but might as well have glared at the table. It would have had more of an effect. Despite her glare, her next question came out more hesitant than she would have liked.

"And… does he know about me, too? About my family?" She didn't know why she cared, but she did. Maybe it was because they'd fought together. Maybe because he'd trusted her. He hadn't even hesitated. He'd just put his lie in her hands as if they were lifelong friends. Either way, she didn't want to face the betrayal he'd no doubt feel at discovering her sordid background. Just because Batman wasn't flipping out automatically didn't mean others wouldn't. Life had taught her plenty of hard lessons, and one was to not take anything for granted.

Batman shook his head. "No. He and Robin just know you're a new vigilante. This doesn't involve them."

She sighed in relief. For a few glorious, terrifying minutes back on the boat, she'd gotten a glimpse of what it might be like to have friends as a hero. To banter with someone who trusted her. To be a part of that world without her family's legacy tied around her neck like an albatross. Losing that would have been too much to handle on top of all the other crap from the last few hours. "Well, I'm glad he's alive, at least."

"That's what I wanted to thank you for. Without your help, he says he would have died. You saved his life and helped save thousands of others from Joker's attack."

That took a second to sink in. A smile slowly spread over her face, regardless of the bruises and swelling. She probably looked like an absolute cretin, grinning like an idiot while half her face was purple and her head was wrapped in bandages, but she didn't care. Her first day as a vigilante and she'd actually made a difference. Marauder had even spoken up for her. The Batman had thanked her. Somehow, getting her ass kicked and winding up in the ocean suddenly seemed a worthwhile trade-off for the warm, happy feeling spreading through her chest. Then Batman had to go and ruin it with his stupid talking.

"Why did you do it?" His voice hadn't changed from that creepy monotone, but there was an edge to it on the question. Not dangerous, but commanding. Different from the way Crusher would always demand things, but no less forceful.

She eyed him warily again. "Do what?"

"What you did tonight. Saving Marauder. Why risk going up against the Joker?"

Abruptly, she realized what he was really asking. Righteous indignation kindled in her breast. "What? You're worried I'm a plant? That I'm trying to gain Marauder's trust so I can get to you? Or so my dad can get to you?"

"The thought occurred to me." He didn't even bat an eye at the accusation, which, for some reason, actually made her feel better. Sure, he'd basically said he didn't trust her and thought she was scum, but at least he was upfront about it.

"Yeah, well, screw you. I didn't even know Joker was the one who took him, and it wouldn't have mattered if I did. I went after him because he looked like he was in trouble. Not everyone's so fucked up they can't do things just because they're the right thing to do." She paused for a breath. Apparently, he'd gotten under her skin more than she'd thought. Her fists were clenched and her head throbbed from raising her voice. "You know, you've got a funny way of thanking people. Usually it doesn't come with an interrogation."

"Hnn. Say I believe you. Why go against your father? Why go into the life at all? I know your mother's gone straight. Sportsmaster is on the other side of the world. You could have a normal life if you worked for it. Why put on a mask and hunt criminals?"

She opened her mouth to snap that it wasn't his business, then thought better of it. Whatever he wanted her to think with the soup and the tea and the talking, she wasn't about to forget just who it was standing in front of her. She couldn't afford to forget. Not with her family. Her blood. Maybe he was giving her a chance. Maybe. But she couldn't believe she'd get more than one.

"You know who my dad is. What he does." He nodded, though it hadn't been a question. "My mom kicked him out when she got out of prison, but before that, I lived here with him. He… trained me. And my sister. Wanted us to go into the 'family business.'"

She clenched her fists as old memories resurfaced. It wasn't easy with her head all tenderized, but she fought them down and took a shaky breath. "I hate my dad. Hate him. He's a monster, and an asshole, and I swore years ago I'd never be like him. I won't let him win like that."

Batman nodded. She waited for him to call her a liar, to say Crusher had already corrupted her just like he had her sister. But he didn't. He just nodded and let her continue.

"When she got home from prison, Mom told him she was going straight. Said she wanted me to live a normal life. Not get involved with- well, you know. Everything. And he-"

She broke off as bitter anger strangled her words. The memory still made her want to put her fist through a wall. Or Crusher's face. Every time she thought about it, she got so angry she felt sick. Hot tears stung her eyes and flowed down her cheeks, but she wiped them away with her good hand. No way was Batman going to see her cry. Not over her good-for-nothing dad.

"What did he do?" His voice was softer now. Almost gentle. Before she knew it, she'd already started answering him.

"He laughed at her. The bastard laughed in her face. He said prison had made her soft, and there was no room for weaklings in our family. He said I'd never be anything but what he made me." Her teeth ground together. "Shows what he knows. Worthless sack of shit. Anyway, that was two months ago. He took all his stuff when mom kicked him out, and it took until now for me to get some halfway-decent gear. Shit, but that's gonna take forever to replace."

The dark figure leaned forward a hair, and she just about swallowed her tongue. "So you intend to carry on with your activities, then?"

All the softness was gone from his voice. The edge was back, and sharper than before. Harder. It was a knife pressed against her throat. She gulped, and then winced. Her throat was raw from swallowing seawater, and the tea hadn't soothed it yet. Of all the ways she'd imagined a confrontation with the Bat, she'd never pictured herself a half-dead mess of bruises and exhaustion. At least, not until after he was through with her. Still, if Crusher had taught her anything of value, it was how to push through adversity and still fight.

"Yeah, I do. And fuck you if you think you can stop me. You or anyone else. I swore I'd do this, and if I have to sneak around to do it, so be it. If you have a problem with that, then throw me in Blackgate right now, because-"

She forced herself to stop rambling and looked Batman in the eye. Somehow, meeting those blank white lenses took more courage than facing down a dozen armed thugs had, but she managed it anyway. She tried to look defiant. If he wanted to condemn her, fine, but no one got to judge her.

Batman looked back at her, a mountain staring down an alley cat that was apparently too stupid to recognize a hopeless fight when it saw one. Whatever was going on behind that scowling mask, though, not a hint of it leaked through. Artemis bit her lip and tapped her feet against the chair legs to distract herself from her rising apprehension. The silence, the not knowing, was worse than any amount of cold condemnation. Why wouldn't he just say something?

"Does your mother know about this?"

'Aaaaarrgh! Why couldn't he have said something else?' She moaned to herself. Her first instinct was to lie. Fortunately, her second, third, and fourth instincts, along with her senses of honor and self-preservation, all told her lying to the Batman would be a terrible idea. A really, really terrible idea.

"No," she admitted. "She's not even in town right now. She's at some Wayne Foundation job training thing for the disabled in Trenton." Something occurred to her and her eyes went wide. "You're not gonna tell her about this, are you?"

"No," he said, and relief made her lightheaded. Then he put a black, unmarked phone on the table and pushed it towards her. "You are."

She eyed the phone like she would an angry viper before switching her glare to him. "Why? If you think she can talk me out of this-"

"If I meant to stop you, I wouldn't need to enlist your mother," he said, and her jaw snapped shut at the cold-steel certainty in his words. It wasn't a threat; just a statement of fact. If Batman wanted to take her down, then she was going down. She couldn't deny it, even to herself. He was the Batman. Founding member and leader of the Justice League. She was a beat up teenager who'd just failed at eating chicken noodle soup. Still, there was something about what he'd said that niggled at her brain. Something she'd missed amongst all the cold sweat and shaking.

"Wait. You said 'if' you wanted to stop me." Her frown morphed into a tiny, triumphant grin. "Does that mean you're cool with me being a vigilante?"

His eyes narrowed. "Do not put words in my mouth. I do not allow unsanctioned vigilantes in my city. Any further activities on your part will come after a lengthy discussion, and only with my approval. I am grateful to you for saving Marauder's life. But that is not the same thing as trust. Not yet. Now, call your mother."

Her smile died as he spoke. It wasn't quite a ban, but it was a long way from approval. Still, something in her refused to let the matter drop. "I told you, I don't need your permission. It's my life and none of your business."

"Crimefighting is very much my business, especially in Gotham," he growled. She bristled and was ready to let loose with another scathing remark when he did something that took her completely off guard. He moved around to her side of the table and placed a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. She flinched, ready for a restraint or even a blow, but it never came. Instead, he gave her shoulder a gentle, even comforting squeeze and spoke in a soft, almost normal voice.

"You're injured. Focus on healing. When you're back in combat shape, we will discuss your options."

She gaped at him, too confused to come up with an appropriate response. No one had offered her this sort of comfort since before her mom had gone to prison. She was not emotionally prepared to accept that Batman was the first adult to give her a pat on the shoulder in over six years. So, in the interest of ignoring the confusing problem until it went away, she focused on his actual words.

"What do you mean 'discuss my options'? Don't try to pawn me off with some bullshit promises!"

His eyes narrowed again, but the hand on her shoulder didn't tighten. "It means we will discuss your options. You'll do this the right way, or not at all, and that is final. Am I understood?"

A dozen angry retorts popped into her mind, but she bit them off. There was a warning in his tone that she'd pushed things as far as they could be pushed for tonight. Considering she wasn't headed to jail and had at least a possible path forward without having to look over her shoulder, she bit the bullet and nodded.

"Fine. Understood. Are we done?"

"No. Pick up the phone and call your mother."

She eyed the phone again and whimpered. "Can't I go to jail instead?"

"Now, Artemis."

She sighed and picked up the phone. This was going to be about as much fun as getting her teeth pulled out through her nose.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

There it is. Harry and Sirius are butting heads (again), and Batman once again fails to not go into dad-mode the moment he sees a hurt kid with parental trauma. Seriously, if Paula was dead, you'd be getting a female Robin a lot sooner than Stephanie.

Artemis is a difficult character to write. To be fair, none of the Team members are easy to write, because the showrunners made them complex, multi-faceted characters with conflicting loyalties and motivations. That said, writing the meeting between Batman and Artemis was particularly tough, because there isn't anything for me to go off of in the show. At first, I tried writing her as she is with the Team; sarcastic, abrasive, and contrary. It didn't work, though. Artemis' first meeting with the Bat is that of a scared teenager meeting the literal bogeyman as well as being a hopeful hero meeting one of her idols. It felt more genuine to me for her vulnerabilities to make a showing, especially with a concussion.

Writing the scene from her perspective also gave its own challenges. Batman may come off as a little uneven in that scene, but it's for a reason. Remember, he's conducting an interrogation. A (mostly) friendly interrogation, but still an interrogation. I didn't give you his internal thought processes, but they are there.

Please, let me know how I did. Leave a review with any criticism, witticism, or other-tism you feel like sharing. Thank you and see you next time.