"I think it goes without saying that if you're told to Stop, you stop. Give Way isn't telling you to stop, it's telling you to give way to travelling vehicles. If the car on the other side has stopped like the sign's told 'em to, then the Give Way car has nothing to give way to and can go. Right?"

Barbara clicks and points at Duke with a nod, "Exactly what I thought."

"I disagree," Jason announces over the frying of the pan. 

"Disagree with what?" Dick emerges from his and Cleo's room, pulling a shirt down over his head. 

"If you're at an intersection and one side has a stop sign and the other has a give way, which one of you can turn first?" Jason tells him.

Dick ponders this for a moment as he heads over to sit at the table with Duke and Barbara.

"The person at the Give Way goes first," he decides.

"Exactly!" Duke argues.

"No-" Jason starts, but Damian interrupts from the sofa.

"It is irrelevant. Surely such a stupid circumstance would not slip through the city council." He continues to act like he isn't lounging with Cookie and Luscious, who sit by him in front of the off TV.

"Well I came across one on my investigation. So someone definitely screwed up," Duke responds.

The ring of the elevator bell draws everyone's attention to the entrance. Dick hears the faint sound of car keys being put into the bowl by the front door. Cleo. He smiles.

Before he can call her name, she steps into view. His heart drops the moment he sees her and the room does a collective gasp.

Blood. Cleo is covered in blood. It's all over her grey blouse, all over the cream blazer hanging on her arm, some on her pants. Dick's blood runs cold and he instantly starts to imagine the worst.

"Are you hurt?" Barbara asks urgently, seeming to be the only one able to talk.

Cleo shakes her head without looking at them and says plainly, "It's not mine." It doesn't make the vision any less shocking. If anything it's scarier.

A second later he's rushing towards her.

"Cleo, what-"

She raises her hand to stop and silence him. He freezes, swallows hard when she gives him an irritated, tired glare. Something bad has clearly happened, beyond what can be easily assumed. Not just a fight but something with an emotional weight. She turns left into their bedroom and shuts the door softly behind her. 

All of them- Barbara, Duke, Damian, even Jason -stare at where she was in disbelief. Without considering the consequences for too long, Dick follows her.

The lights are off in the bedroom but not the bathroom. When she hears him approaching she tries to shut the door, but he inserts himself between it and the frame just in time. She glares at him through the curtain of her hair as she dumps her blazer in the bin.

"I don't want you here," she says lowly, stopping to glare at him to emphasise. Dick gives her a worried look and remains in his spot.

He watches silently as she turns back to the mirror and peels her blouse off. The blood has dried, but patches that had soaked through still stick to her skin and stain her singlet. Her shoulders drop at the sight, as do her eyes. 

She shuts them, "Leave," she demands quietly. A curtain of hair shields her face from him but their wall-wide mirror shows her attempt at hiding her exhaustion with a blank mask.

"No," he says softly, leaning against the counter, "What happened? If that's not your blood then whose is it?"

She ditches the blouse on the ground and turns to him, "It doesn't matter! Please get out," She tries in a more aggressive tone. Violet eyes are set on him with barely concealed rage. Dick thinks her mask nearly cracks. 

He'd be hurt by her reluctance to confide if he wasn't so worried about her. She reaches for the cloth by the basin and turns the tap on. Dick takes a subtle step closer. He can't help but notice the way her shoulders are hunched forward, introverted. Her hands are even shaking, something she tries hard to hide by pressing them into the counter.

Neither of them say anything while the water streams out. Dick doesn't know what he's more worried about- the circumstances behind how she got covered in blood, or that fact that she looks so traumatised by it.

She wets the cloth in the hot water when it starts to steam. She wrings it out and Dick winces, thinking that it probably burns.

"Here, let me," he says, closing the distance and getting a hold of both her hands. 

"Get out!" She shouts, pushing him away. He stumbles back a few feet, stunned. She steps back from him and dumps the cloth back in the water.

It's worse than he thought, but he decides pretty quickly he's not giving up on trying to help her. If she really wanted to go through whatever this was alone, she would have put him through the door already. 

So he moves towards her.

"Cleo, let me help you," he implores.

He reaches for her again and she fights him, slapping his wrist away before shoving his stomach with both hands. If he didn't have his training he'd be against the door. Instead his stance prevents him from falling and instead has him leaning in closer.

Aware she could quite literally crush every bone in his body, he puts his hands on her shoulders to try and still her. She knocks one of his arms away with a move he doesn't even see before she pushes him again, this time on the chest. His position becomes a liability and he stumbles.

It's then, in a quick turn of her head as she tries to conceal it, that he sees her tears. It stops him in his tracks because never in his life had he imagined a person so tough falling apart like this right before his eyes.

Bruised but determined, he comes towards her again and this time goes all in. Her head is turned away but she still senses him coming and puts her hands up to knock him back a third time. He lets her shove him but before she can apply any force he gets his hands between hers and pushes them out.

Defences down, he steps right into her space and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

She fights, and fights and fights and fights. He takes a few half-hearted thumps to the chest, side and stomach. She squirms and shouts and curses him out. He doesn't let go, just says her name quietly a few times.

In a matter of seconds her attacks become weaker and weaker, her form shaking rather than wriggling. It goes downhill like that for a while, then stops all together. He clutches tighter when she finally drops, pressing her head into his chest and clutching his shirt.

It's agony. She doesn't make any noise except for a few gasps as she suffers silently. It brings tears to his own eyes. He moves one arm down to her waist to support her, the other going to her head and stroking her hair.

He doesn't feel the need to say anything. The truth of whatever demons she's battling internally can wait. In careful movements, he slides them down the wall to the floor and holds her there as she cries.

Outside, in silence, Jason puts the supper he had made in containers. Barbara had announced they should leave. Dick had been gone for five minutes and if it wasn't something of importance he would have told them to leave or go on without him.

"You're not packing all of it?" Babs asks innocently. Jason gives her a subtle glare as he puts a container in the fridge. He doesn't mention that neither Dick, nor Cleo can cook, though she probably already knows that.

An amused Duke watches Damian search through the kitchen cupboards, where he eventually finds cat food. He fills Luscious and Cookie's bowls and pets them before they leave.

As the four pass the bedroom, they can't help but wonder what is occurring beyond the door.

One thing is for certain though.

Barbara looks up at Jason and snorts, "He's in love."

◊

◊

"I'm, hm, concerned." 

Gordon and Hallow watch their mother as she frets over whatever she is looking at on her laptop. They stand at the living-room door, watching the normally flighty woman muttering to herself with a hardened face.

"Hey mom?" Gordon calls out.

When she hears her son's voice, Brittany lights up and turns away from the screen with a smile.

"Yes sweet?" She asks, then sees their luggage behind them. "Oh, are you going now? Where's Demitri?" 

"He's at the airport already. The car's waiting, so..."

Smiling, Brittany stands up and opens her arms. As they have since they were children, Gordon and Hallow hug her together. The familiar feeling of their mother's manicure petting their heads is comforting.

"Thank you for doing as I asked, dears," she says, kissing both of them. "I think your father just needs his space right now." They draw back and nod simultaneously. "Are you sure you don't want to join the kids at Disney World? Or visit Cleo in Gotham?"

The twins look at each other and grin, "Vegas with Demitri sounds a lot more fun mom."

"No gambling," Brittany scolds immediately, "And no drinking!"

"We won't," they chime together, but their fingers are crossed behind their backs. Brittany smiles at them warmly before hugging them again.

Their eyes fall on the laptop behind her. A series of documents are open with words they can't see, but it worries them.

"What are you doing? You hate work," Gordon says.

Brittany laughs and steps back from them.

"It's not work, or not the company at least; it's your trust funds and inheritance. It's important to look over these things you know," she says smartly.

Gordon and Hallow smile at her, but when she turns around they share grave looks.

She is definitely up to something.

◊

◊

It isn't the cold of being alone that wakes me up. Instead it's a tightening around my waist. At first I subconsciously think that it's Dick until I realise he's not next to me. He must have gone Nightwinging after I had fallen asleep. 

As much a I don't want to admit it, I'm glad he didn't listen, or rather that he could hear what I was really saying. That I needed help.

I groan as I sit up, head aching. I rub my side painfully as it continues to hurt.

The second explanation is Amethyst. Usually if I'm asleep she lets me know when something is wrong by tightening around my arm, but I can't sense anything dangerous close by. I reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

"Stupid snake, what-"

I freeze, because Amethyst is not on my waist but still on my arm, asleep.

"You're not..."

The burning sensation is still twisting around me.

It's something else and I can take a rather logical guess at what it is. I throw the covers off and race to the bathroom, muttering curses to myself. I smack the light on and yank up my shirt. 

My insides twist when I see it.

"What the fuck."

A second serpent, Eric's Cyan to be exact, has somehow made its way onto me. The snake shifts awkwardly around my abdomen and his head dips at my waist as he tries to hide.  I shiver uncomfortably.

"Cyan," I whisper, bewildered. "How did you..."

I think back to when I pulled Eric's arm away during his assault. Cyan had moved up his sleeve but I didn't think he had moved to the other arm and transferred to me. I wouldn't have even thought it was possible, especially since the technology took months to apply and was absolute agony.

A million things race through my head.

Why did he move to me? How will this effect Amethyst? Why didn't I notice until now? What does this mean for my power? Did he leave a print behind on Eric? Will Eric be okay without him?

I'm lost on what to do. The squad expert on our tech, Dalton, was shot in the head a long time ago. The only other person with a certifiable knowledge is Amanda Waller.

I'd rather die than ask that bitch for help.

The squad might know what to do though.

Walking awkwardly with my arms spread to avoid touching Cyan, I enter the wardrobe and retrieve my communicator from behind some ugly Gucci slippers. 

"Amethyst to rainbow. Non-lethal, highly important and...fucking crazy. Requesting full audience." It's the early hours of the morning so everyone should be home. The communicator beeps loudly enough to wake us.

"Emerald, present." Heather.

"Burgandy, present." Max.

"Bronze, present." Cameron.

"Magenta, present." Christa.

"Amber, present." Lief.

I wait a moment, no Melissa this time, and then, "Max, no Jane?"

"Sorry boss, she's on a shift. What's happening?"

What am I supposed to start with? With Eric's condition and outburst? With his revelation about Edgar Woods? With Cyan transferring to me?

"No bullshit, I'm just going to say it," I strain, "Cyan ended up in hospital and they called me and he seemed okay while on the drugs before they wore off and he went back into his state and claimed that Edgar "Grotesque" Woods is back and looking for the fuel again and he's working with my family and then Cyan tried to kill himself and for some reason and somehow, the Cyan Serpent transferred to me."

I take a deep breath at the end of that little ramble and anxiously await a response.

Just like last time, when I told everyone about Eric attacking me, they lose their minds.

I manager to decipher about three things from the scramble of words that I cop from the five. 'How is that possible?', 'How is he back?' and 'Is Eric okay?'.

"I don't have any answers for you!" I shout over the top of them. "I want to know if you have any for me."

"About which part? Is it Cyan-"

"That should not be a concern right now. He's in a hospital where he can get help. If...If Grotesque is really back then we're all screwed," Cameron interrupts Lief.

"Help? Do you think he was getting 'help' when he tried to kill himself there?"

"I agree with Amber, we should extract Cyan."

"Great idea Emerald! We'll just break into a hospital and take a mentally disturbed man out of the one place he might actually get help," Christa interrupts Heather.

"You know hospital grade doesn't work for us!"

"Actually," Max interrupts, "Without Cyan on him he'll probably be able to get better. As for you boss, feeling any different?"

Everyone shuts up after Max's question. I find myself wandering back to the bathroom. 

"It didn't hurt," I start with. "I mean, it's burning now, but it's not like before." I lift my top again and watch him move in the mirror. 

"If I had known that they could just leave..." Max trails off. I know what he wants to say. That if he could, he'd get rid of Burgundy without a second thought. 

I glance up at myself in the mirror and catch sight of yet another change.

"Holy shit," I whisper, answered by a collection of Whats?. I lean over the basin and pull my cheek down, unable to believe, well, my eyes. "My left fucking eye changed colour!"

Instead of my improved purple following Amethyst's application, my left eye has turned Cyan- a light blue-green colour, brighter and more vibrant than Dick and Tim's.

"How the fuck am I going to explain that!?"

"It's called heterochromia." 

"Great Emerald, I'm sure that helps." 

"Boss, you know I wear contacts to hide my eyes. Not all of us got a natural eye colour, remember? I use really good ones if you want the link?" Christa suggests.

I pull my shirt down and turn away from the mirror.

"Yeah, thanks," I say, trying not to dissociate into my thoughts, "I'm supposed to go back to Sunset for a visit in a few weeks. I'll do an investigation of the company in person. As for Eric... if they decide to put him in the new Arkham Asylum I might be able to keep him out." 

"Cash?" 

"Connection."

I'm sure if I asked and explained, Bruce, whose foundation funded the new facility, will be open to preventing Eric from going there.

"It goes without saying that everyone needs to stay on high alert, alright? Keep your communicator with you at all times. Keep an eye out."

"You got it."

"I'm keeping my gun around too."

"And don't forget," I glance back at the mirror, "He knows who we are."

◊