I feel nothing.

Emptiness.

It's like a vacuum draws every ounce of feeling out and casts it into the aether the moment Mai finishes the sentence. No reaction draws on my face. Just blank. Just nothing.

I know Dick's hands are on me. That Mai is still talking, mouth still moving, eyes filled with wariness. There are tears there. That's more than me.

The seconds of immunity from sound drag on, until it returns in a rush when Sandy appears at the door. The blood roar in my ears is like coming back to Earth.

I turn to the left, not to hide anything, but to get a semblance of some sort of movement. I'm still alive in here.

And she's not.

Whatever they were expecting me to say is not what they get, because the shock settles in the moments it takes to answer.

"Do the kids know?"

Within twelve hours our fairy tail book had turned a page into horror. I thought I could protect them from death. I'm not even mad. I'm not anything. Not right now.

Not the happy wife dancing in the arms of her husband. Not the lusting woman tearing her man's clothes off in his childhood bedroom. Not the proud older sister watching her siblings come out of their shells.

I am nothing.

"They're not awake yet," Sandy says softly.

Dick's hand is squeezing mine. Five minutes ago we were stepping out of the shower, ready to spend the morning teasing Mai and Jason.

"Where is Heather?"

"On the phone with a contact at Sunset Police Department. She's trying to find out what they know and what's being investigated," Mai's voice is unnaturally soft. I hate it.

My head snaps to her, "What do we know?"

"Cleo-" Dick starts, but I ignore him.

"Mai."

I state her name once. A single warning.

Instead of gulping nervously or attempting to withhold, she shuts her eyes and speaks.

"So far it  has been ruled as a suicide."

My instant thought is no.

"Never. She would never abandon them." Even emotive words hold no feeling. I'm speaking like I'm reading from a manual. Someone else's mother. Not mine.

"I agree," Mai says, almost like a whisper. Sandy keeps her eyes down, but nods from behind her.

Someone has killed my mother. Pushed her from the roof of the building- our building. And I'm going to kill them.

"We'll be down in a minute."

I turn away, letting go of Dick's hand. He only follows me though. As I reach for the shoes in my overnight bag I hear the door click shut.

Immediately he sidles up, slips one arm around my waist and pets my head with his other hand. He clutches me to his chest. I let it happen with my eyes wide open, staring at our reflection in the floor length mirror. I don't hold him back but I know that doesn't surprise him.

"I'm so sorry."

When he says it, the dullest twinge of pain flickers in my chest, sparking up into my brain. I inhale sharply and push him back, turning away from the younger version of my mother I see in myself and recoiling from feeling.

I shake my head at him, "Not now."

Even I don't know what I mean by that, but he does. He nods with a sad smile, then holds my leather jacket out to me. I slip it on and finish pulling on my boots. I blink and breathe slowly until the spark dies out.

When we leave we shut the door softly in an effort to keep the kids in a mothered world for a little longer. I try not to think about it. About Logan crying for her in the night. Jeremy and Klover becoming more and more isolated from anyone that isn't each other. 

Ignatier. Ignatier is a whole other beast. As we descend the stairs I think about telling Dick right there. That Ignatier has powers which react to her emotions.

I think about Gordon and Hallow hearing that it may have been a murder. They as Shade and Reflection will swear vengeance and find themselves on a path darker than mine, their lives forever stained.

Fantasia and mom were closer than any of us. Best friends because Fantasia doesn't know how to socially interact with other people. A mommy's girl through and through. Who will she have now?

The boys. Demitri, even with no goals, was always mom's golden boy. He could do no wrong. If it were not for mom's unending acceptance of Ethan, our father may not be as open to his son's relationship as he is. 

She always had their back.

And me...Well I...

I can't think about that.

We reach the bottom of the stairs, which meet the front doors. One of them is open and Mai and Sandy are leaning in the threshhold, Heather's voice drifting in from the outside. It's a sunny day.

To the left is the den, to the right is the dining room. Dick and I wander into the latter. Damian and Tim sit in silence with their breakfast in front of them. Tim looks up at me with pity in his tired eyes. Damian doesn't turn his head, but his shoulders hunch like he's uncomfortable upon sensing us.

"Cleo," Tim begins, putting his phone down, "I'm so sorry. There's...there's nothing worse. We know."

Of course they do. Dick's mom is dead. Bruce's mom is dead. I remember hearing before I met any of them that Janet Drake had died, her son adopted by the Waynes.

"Thank you, Tim," is all I can say.

I hear Dick ask me if I'm hungry, but I don't answer. When Damian finally looks up at me I turn around, not wanting to see more pity where it has never belonged. 

Heather. Go to Heather. She'll have something to tell me. She'll be able to help me make sense of all this. Her logic was often the answer to my own impulses during our tours.

Just as I start to move, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as Amethyst, Cyan and Citrine coil tightly on me.

"Danger," I whisper, staring out at the ground floor landing. Bruce and Jason suddenly appear in front of the den, out of the hallway that I've guessed is the entrance to their base.

They look normal until they see me, the wary expression on my face. It stops them in their tracks. Sandy and Mai are oblivious to the danger at the top of the stairs behind them.

"Cleo?" The threat calls out. Her voice cracks. It's so unlike her. "Cleo, is it true?"

Mai and Sandy turn around and I move on instinct, the fight to keep it a secret driving me as I dash behind Sandy and knock her out with a hit to the back of the head.

"What are you doing?" Mai yells, catching her. It forces her to the floor and I'm left with no choice but to hit Mai as well, as hard as I can without using any power. Her eyes slide shut as her head bounces off the wall.

I whip around and face Ignatier on the second floor landing. She looks a sight. Her pajamas, an over-sized pink sweater and blue pants, flap around her. Her skin starts to glow red, the same colour blaring in her eyes and her hair looks static, sticking up and out.

"What is this?" I hear Tim ask. I only realise then that they're all around me. Ignatier's eyes turn on him fiercely. I reach over, shove his shoulder. Dick effectively pulls him behind us.

Seeing him there clinches it. The veil is lifted. No more secrets.

"It's true," I say solemnly. 

A range of emotions cross her face. Things I've never wanted any of them to feel. Grief, pain, anger, sadness, vengeance.

Behind her, Klover and Jeremy appear, concealed only by the banister. I can see their faces are red and shiny. They must have awoken while Sandy wasn't watching them and found the news out on their phones.

Still, the twins nod at me. I understand the message.

"How?" Ignatier becomes more and more hysterical by the second.

"That won't-"

"How?" Her power glows so hot that the heat can be felt down here. Her clothes begin to singe and the floor is smoking beneath her feet.

"If you don't calm down, you're going to hurt people," I tell her slowly. "Like last time."

"Who cares?" She cries. It's a reminder that she's only sixteen, that she has always been softer on the inside than the others. Mom used to say it's because she's in-between two sets of twins. They have each other. 

Who does she have?

The serpents slip down my arms, sensing the oncoming surge. It's their way of saying 'she's about to snap'.

"You clearly don't," she states, the glow suddenly gathering up into her chest, "Our mom is dead ...and you can't even shed a tear!"

Everything happens at the same time. The massive explosion of power I have seen only once before begins like a ring of fire expanding from her body. Jeremy tackles her from behind, using his flight speed to crash into her with such an impact they leave a hole in the stairs where they fall.

It momentarily diffuses the original attack. I use it to counter. With Cyan on my left arm I change Jeremy's center of gravity, tossing him into the air. Klover jumps off the top of the staircase to catch him.

With Amethyst on my right arm, I activate her individual power and absorb the energy just as Ignatier starts to push herself up. It's what we had to do last time. Her chihuahua, Muffin, was hit by a car and died instantly. If I hadn't been there she would have decimated the entire beach. 

The bright red power flows into my arm. It burns, but I couldn't care less. I keep it coming until she groans and her head thumps into the floor.

 I fall back then, feel Heather kneeling behind me with her hand on my shoulder. No one says anything. Klover and Jeremy are turned into each other, hiding their faces.

Without much care as to the inelegance of the reveal, I look up at Bruce.

"Do you have inhibitor collars?"

Everyone breathes deep. That is, the Waynes. I can't see Dick behind me while I'm looking at Bruce and Jason. The former regards me with hard eyes, but they're not exactly angry.

Jason sighs, "I'll get a pyrokinesis one." He turns around and heads back down the hallway they came out of. 

Bruce steps closer, "Put her back in bed. Alfred will be home soon. He'll check her over." Though he doesn't ask a question, I nod. I know Alfred used to be a surgeon. Before he leaves he adds, "I had a hunch. But it never mattered."

I watch him walk away in silence. So I suppose he approves of me knowing? Or he's being soft on me because of recent events?

Did this all just really happen in one minute? Is the Bat not even bothered?

"Let me," Heather catches my attention next. She steps around Ignatier carefully and gives her a once over. I can't bear to watch her get lifted up with a gentleness I couldn't even muster before saving face with the Waynes.

"First left door on the third landing," Tim tells her. She nods, looks at me with a sympathetic smile, then heads up the stairs.

Finally, I look over my shoulder at Dick. The concern in his eyes hasn't changed, but he still looks surprised. We should talk about it, about everything. That I know he has been lying to me this entire time; that the probable agony of keeping secrets was unnecessary; that it doesn't matter, because I love him. 

Instead, I look away from him and onto the twins. Klover and Jeremy are crying off to the side. I step over Tim and Damian as they prop Mai and Sandy against the wall. Heather will come up with some lie for Sandy and an explanation for Mai.

But none of that matters right now. As soon as I'm within range Klover throws herself at me, pressing her face into my collar in silent sobs. I pet her hair with one hand and bring Jeremy into the embrace as well.

Still, it doesn't feel right. I feel stuck, like this is the wrong place for me to be.

None of them say anything and I know we've been left alone. In the silence, a lone thought comes to mind as I hold my grieving siblings close.

"You must be so taxed with twins, Brittany, especially with no nanny."

"Not at all. I have Alan. Not to mention two of my own hands, Cathy."  

My mother knew how to shut down nosy rich women. Probably cause she was one as well, but she never liked the image of being a careless mother. It seemed to come with the territory of having money and a million children.

That comment made by some nobody wasn't even about Klover and Jeremy. It was about Gordon and Hallow. I was six or seven and it was one of my first parties. I was proud of her.

I look at my hands on their heads and my mind wanders to dad. I have never seen him despair over death, only my own mental instability. I should probably call Ethan later to check on him. On all of them.

It's a strange picture. My father, crying.

The thought of it lights the same terrifying, unfamiliar spark in my brain that the hug from Dick did and I bite my tongue until it bleeds. When the water rises to my eyes anyway I start to release the kids. To push them away and with it the prospect of anything but composure and anger showing in me.

To follow my true instinct of hunting, killing, vengeance.

Luckily, the sound of Jason reappearing only to head upstairs is enough to draw them from the hug themselves. I turn around as if to look at him, but really it's to hide my face until my eyes drain.

I breathe slowly a few times before looking back at them.

"Have you called dad?"

"Are we going home?"

Their questions overlap, which never happens.

"No, and yes. We'll have to..." For the funeral, "...so we can all be together."

"When?"

I don't know.

I can't say that, either.

"Soon."

"When?" Klover repeats, firmer.

"Hey," I kneel down in front of them, grab their hands and look up at their faces. I open my mouth to say something. Big sister words, things they need to hear. But nothing decent comes to mind. I want to tell them I'll catch the bastard who did it, but that implies murder, which will only further disturb them and perhaps even inspire them to attempt the same vengeance. I could tell them it's all going to be okay, but knowing that it's not, I can't voice it. I could tell them tomorrow but if it's not they'll hate me.

"We'll have the jet ready to fly as soon as Ignatier is okay to travel. Until then, you two could think about calling one of your siblings or even your dad? That way they'll know you're okay. You can ask any questions you might have. They'll know more than Cleo."

And there he is. Making sense of the world.

The twins sniff, wipe their eyes and nod. Both of them squeeze my hands at the same time and apologise before they step around me and head up the stairs together.

Not a moment later, he reaches down for my arm. Before he can grab it I stand up myself. It doesn't stop him from coming and when he starts to wrap his arms around me again, I push him away.

"No."

Hurt flashes in his eyes as quickly as it goes.

"Cleo-"

"Please. I-" I swallow, in the seconds of silence choosing the next logical option, "I have to be Amethyst now."

I walk past him and out the door without so much as looking at him.

He follows me out urgently, "Cleo Logan is still asleep."

I have two options when I stop. Two, as I stare at Jason's motorbike, knowing exactly how to start it. Knowing exactly how far away the closest ARGUS base is and how long it will take me to get there.

I take a step.

"Cleo." 

I could pretend I had forgotten about Logan. Pretend that it had slipped my mind in grief and that I'll be happy to pop upstairs and tell him our mother is currently being scraped up off the sidewalk.

Or I can tell the truth. That I can't bear to see his crying little face. I don't want to say out loud that she's dead because it makes it too real. I might not be able to fight that spark of humanness a third time.

Then the other side of the truth. That despite knocking out Ignatier, holding my crying brother and sister and knowing Logan will want nothing more than to have me there, one thing has remained on my mind heavier than anything.

Hunting down the person who did this and killing them. 

"Hey," I feel his hand on the back of my arm. The burst of rage brought on by the thought has me elbowing him this time, sending him back on his ass. 

I turn around to yell at him, but the face staring back at me strikes like lightning. Pain, betrayal, yes, but most of all I see disappointment.

In my head I can picture her with those exact emotions written in her eyes. She would be ashamed of me for leaving Logan to strangers and distraught siblings.

Amethyst, Citrine and Cyan stop throbbing the instant I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I see her smile in my mind,"Look at you, still protecting everyone." 

I had promised them that I would find out who did it, that day in the restaurant. Who has dragged their names through the mud and disgraced us. I promised I would make them pay.

But about twenty years ago I made an entirely different promise to my mother. She came home with this ugly, wrinkly little baby in her arms and told me his name was Demitri. There were no words to it, and perhaps she didn't even know, but it was a promise I continued to make for the next decade or so each time she bought a bundle (or two) home.

The oath of the eldest sister to love and protect her siblings for the rest of her life.

Suddenly and deservedly embarrassed, I hold my hand out to Dick. Relief fills his eyes and he lets me help him up. He goes to speak but I shake my head and cover his mouth with my hand. At first he looks confused, but with an earnest look from me he simply nods and accepts.

Another deep breath and I turn, dread filling my stomach as I walk back into my worst nightmare.

I'd take a war over this any day.

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