Chapter fiftyyyyyyyyy!!!

***
With a sigh, J'onn's firm posture slackened and he slumped in the chair. Interested piqued by his teammate's unusual mood, Vic spun the chair around to face the Martian.

Eyebrow raised and hands on his hip, Cyborg nudged, "What's going onnn?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come on, I've never heard you sigh like that. I want to know what's up."

J'onn straightened himself and said, "Oh I'm not upset," he met Vic's eyes in earnest, "not at all."

Seating himself on the meeting table just behind, Vic folded his arms, smiling in spite of himself at J'onn's sincerity, "Cool cool, you're just not exactly the kind of person who does a lot of sighing." He sleuthily attempted to solicit an answer.

The Martian weighed some pros and cons; Victor was not as likely to gossip as perhaps Hal or Barry, and he was a good friend to J'onn; he was extremely friendly with the Titans and whilst Vic may not leak to true teammates, he always did so to the Teen Titans. Then everyone would know. And J'onn would not know how to handle that. More to the point, Diana may not be okay with him speaking to Victor about it.

Then again, she hadn't had any qualms with being public with Clark.

Realising that he may have been staring in to nothingness for rather a few too many seconds, J'onn looked up at Victor. He did have kind eyes, Victor. An understanding young man. Had he asked the opinion of the young empath-witch, he would likely hear the same from her.

The tension in J'onn's chest was weighing him down, and Vic was always nice to talk to.

"Diana and I went on a date." He blurted, before reasonable, methodical thoughts could stop him.

Cyborg's mouth formed words but no sounds came out. Until, that is, he managed to ask, "Uh- Wha..?- Seeiously? For real?" He looked around as if expecting to see someone to share the shock with. "I can really see that. I can actually see it. Diana and J'onn..." he grinned. "Written in the stars!"

Deadpan, the Martian said, "You're being cynical."

"No no!" Vic shook his hands, getting off of the table. "It's great. I mean, we really should have seen this coming- you were lokey obvious...still..." he smirked, "How'd it goooo?"

Sighing once more, J'onn started, "I feel somewhat guilty to be sharing this without Diana's permission, but..."

Meanwhile

"J'onn was thoughtful and kind and interesting- just like usual- but with a little something extra," Diana explained.

"Like what? Marital aids and a camera?" Artemis guffawed.

Resisting the urge to punch her, Diana simply glared.

"No. Of course not." She relaxed her intense stare and drifted about the living room, straightening a few magazines here and there, some pillows in the corner. "Perhaps romantic. Which is strange to see on J'onn, he was very attentive also- more than before."

"Attentive to what?" Artemis wriggled her eyebrows, taking a chunk out of her sandwich.

In eschewed the signature WonderWoman glare (unfortunately, unlike Batman, it was not actually trademarked).

"No Artemis." She sat on the sofa and tapped the remote control absently on its arm. "When we were talking and when we sat down to eat, he asked me more about how I felt, what I thought about something- those sorts of things."

Artemis pulled her extensive ponytail over her shoulder and glanced at Diana sceptically, "So he had a conversation with you? That is generally how they work."

It was at that moment that Diana realised Artemis possibly wasn't the best person to rant about her romantic interests to: certainly, she'd softened since leaving Themyscira, but comparing her when she'd first left to Artemis now...the red-head was far behind in embracing affection. The most she'd get from Artemis was a sisters-in-arms, clap-on-the-back sort of hug.

She had a long way to go yet.
***

John Constantine disregarded a cigarette to the dusty pathway, which served as a road in this rural community in the French south. "Right," he puffed the last cloud of cigarette smoke in to the evening air, "let's get this over with shall we?"

Snapping back on to control (Aphrodite had previously been nattering away to Zatanna, an unwilling object, about her sexual conquests during La Revolution- we'll one of them...), Ricardo folded his arms. He glared in to the assembled crowd of robes individuals, "Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way, because we've busted about three cults in the last few days and I'm willing to make it a fourth."

Oooh that was very sexily done my dear. Aphrodite was compelled to comment.

The do-gooder-magic-squad stood impressively, gearing themselves up for a fight (this cult division was probably bigger than the last two combined).

"Quoi?"

The man at the forefront of the legion of occultists, face previously swathed in shadow, chucked back his hood and stared at the group in incredulity. He looked around, met with equal looks of confusion from the others.

Tapping the occultist besides him on the shoulder, he asked, "Qu'est qu'il a dit c'est anglais?"

The woman too removed her hood and shrugged, "Bah chais pas, je parle pas l'anglais."

Constantine stated wide-eyed.

"Fuck." He whispered. "I failed GCSE French."

The robed frontman turned to ask the rest of his cult-mates, "Quelqu'un parle l'anglais?"

Shrugs. Shaken heads. Some 'Mais non's. And finally!

"Oui- un petit peu." From an older woman in the back. The others, in their swishing carmen robes, parted like the Red Sea for her.

The opposing side unitedly peeked up at her carefully sounded, "What it is that you... looki- non- want...for?"

Ah yes. The human factor that made this all the more difficult. Not a nameless faceless bunch of heretic nobodies, but an actual group of people: people with grey streaks in their hair with age, and accents, and fumbling errors.

"Uhm we..." Zatanna was abashed to say it. "...we want to stop you from calling-" she raised her hand to her ear and made the universal phone-call gesture- "gods here." She pointed to the ground.

A moment later, the woman had processed the rough translation, fier building behind her eyes. With a vigour that made Constantine step back, the woman spun to her fellows and bellowed, "Ils veulent que nous arrêtons notre travail!"

She spun back around and thwacked Constantine right across the face. The legion of occultists swarmed forwards.

So much for feeling guilty.

***
In the Great Dining Hall of Wayne Manor, desert had been finished, and (with hot cocoa, tea, and coffee resting between the hands of all of Bruce's invitees, they'd lapsed in to quiet, easy conversation). Alfred had joined them, seated on one end of the rectangular table- smaller than the vast banqueting piece- opposite Bruce.

Having taken a delicate sip from his cup, the butler set it down in his saucer and responded to the musings of one Billy Batson, "No young sir, I assure you there are no secret areas of the Manor unknown to me."

Eager to see whether this would lead to another segment of 'The Life of Alfred Pennyworth: Butler Supreme', Billy propped his chin on his hands and asked, "Have any of them ever tried escaping?" jerking his head towards the general mass of scariness that sat a few seats away.

Alfred's moustache twitched with a smile, "Oh certainly, it has been the favourite pastime of all the young Masters- attempting to thwart my watchful eye is somewhat a rite of passage." He raised a bristly eyebrow at  Damian, who was listening in on their conversation. "-which doesn't exactly explain the frequency of it occurring. Why ever they would wish to leave is entirely a mystery-" Alfred caught Dick's guilty eye- "particularly when they insist upon returning to steal boxes of cereal."

The tips of Dick's ears warmed and he tucked his neck in to his collar, turning towards Raven's conversation with Clark.

The demon held a shaker of salt and pepper in either hand respectively and a spoon lay in front of her on the table. In the midst of an analogy o convey the different forms of human-deity bonds, Damian interjected. His seat at the table had been shuffled around (primarily due to Titus having scampered in a few minutes earlier, in search of his missing Pennyworth, creating a fair dose of havoc as he attempted to reach the napping feline sprawled over Selena and Damian's laps). 

Reaching across the wooden surface, Damian added to Raven's explanation, "This is like Anubis and I." his girlfriend removed the lid of the salt shaker. He poured a pinch of pepper on to the spoon, then placed the piece of cutlery over the top of the open salt container.

Clark tilted his head, the pieces of the picture not having fully formed for him to understand.

"They are close- joined." Raven lifted the teaspoon up and placed it back down to demonstrate. "But do not cross over one another. The pepper doesn't mix with the salt."

Anubis spoke in union with Raven, Our consciences are indeed separate, but-

"We are together." Damian finished. "Like two speakers who share an auditorium." He pointed out the way the spoon sat upon the salt shaker. "The spoon depends on the container for stability- the auditorium is within my mind. Without the container, the spoon would not be able to rest on the top (the space in my mind, unused by the conscience or subconscience). Without me, Anubis would return to the spirit world."

Ah the Duat. Guiding dead souls. Presiding over the wandering deceased. Good times. Anubis sighed. I wonder if I am missed...

Damian was struck by Anubis' longing and sat down, welcoming Pennyworth in to his arms and hugging the cat to his chest.  His changing emotions were no secret to Raven. The empath reached out her foot to touch his shoe, silently communicating, 'Are you okay?'.

He contemplated nodding, then shook his head.

I'm sorry that you are stuck with me Anubis.

You're not so terrible, actually, you are quite lovely Damian- sometimes...most of the time.

Taking a gulp of his hot chocolate, Damian frowned, But if there is a way I will find it- somehow.

Damian, Damian, Anubis's voice was edged with soft laughter, I have spent thousands of years in the duat shepherding souls, only on occasion leaving our spirit realm. I would accept ... however long humans live for with you over a return to the duat a thousand times. Your lives are fleeting, I would not wish to dismiss the opportunity to see that for myself.

Perhaps I shall find myself in the duat when I die. Damian grinned in to his mug.

Perhaps. Anubis laughed. Or maybe the Greek's would have gotten hold of you- give my greetings to Hades then won't you?

Damian mentally snorted his assent, draining the last drops of his cocoa. Behind him, Titus bounded in circles around Cassandra and Conner- the dog grown more playful as he'd accustomed himself to the Superboy. Walking over, Kori too knelt besides them, allowing Titus to scamper around her, rubbing his head and cooing words in Tamaranean which neither Conner nor Cassandra (particularly not Titus) could make head or tail of.

Kori moved her hair off of the ground (dusted by the fiery tips of her ponytail) and on to her lap, turning as she did so. Looking across the table, so many seated contentedly around it, Koriand'r found herself thinking of the two that had been missing from the Tower dining room.

"Raven, Damian," she called to them, rising, "do you think you will return to the Tower soon? You have both been sorely missed."

They stared at each other, simply wondering.

"Soon." Raven finally answered. "Soon.."

A.N:

So...life innit? Bit mad. But strange. How's life been treating you all my darlings? Well I hope :)

I don't really know what to say; just thank you!! Xx

-Bats :3