Tim glares into the too-bright screen of the Batcomputer, no intention of dimming it in his mind. There is something wrong here, in the files from Perich Inc. he is investigating. Something that has his mind occupied.

After Amanda Waller had thrown them a bone and given them the information they needed to prosecute Logica Holdings and it's CEO, Brandon Logica, Tim expected to see these files in a different light.

Instead, they look just as they had before; clean. Even the files with information on Beautica and Steelest, the two Perich companies that Logica owned a part of, are neatly prepared.

Which, in itself is strange, seeing as Alan Perich should be in a world of hell right now. Far too frazzled to have his company in order. Tim has a feeling he can thank his children for that, especially Cleo, who he can now see has been moving stock from Perich to Wayne to protect it from being exported.

"We know from our investigation into Alan Perich that he approved transactions from the Perich Inc. accounts that match what the Relaysian army is receiving. Since he can't do a normal transaction because of the alerts on illegal activity, he's doing it by transferring the ownership of companies and therefore accounts with money in them to rebels. What I can't find is the companies he's transferring!"

"Beautica and Steelest though, they're two of them?"

"No," Batman answers Nightwing's question before Red Robin can, "Beautica and Steelest were sending actual factory items to Relaysia, rather than something electronic. Metals and machinery from Steelest and cosmetic items from Beautica."

"I understand the steel and machinery, but why cosmetics? Do rebels need makeup now?" Barbara voices what they're all thinking, though Tim seems to be lost deep in his computer, still hunting for files she couldn't find either.

The intense silence of the Batcave is interrupted by the familiar text tone of Dick's phone. He takes one glance at his screen and smiles instantly.

Without seeming to realise all eyes are on him, he turns around and heads for the showers, "I'm going home in a bit. I'll see if Cleo knows anything extra, okay?"

"Dick-"

"Let him go," Barbara cuts Bruce off. She gets a glare but to her it's not nearly as scary as it should be, "He was clearly thinking about her all night. All distracted and off with the fairies."

"What makes you so sure it's her?" Bruce asks.

Tim, despite being deep in his investigation, snorts with a sassiness brought forward by his frustration, "'Best detective in the world' ladies and gentlemen."

◊

◊

"Fresh."

I roll my eyes.

"Clean."

"I get it."

Piercing black eyes appear over the roof of the car, "I'm talking to myself. You remain silent."

"Yes boss."

Mai's stare sharpens before she leans back down into the car. The dealership we're in is a big put-on, shiny and sleek with cars littering the lobby. We're here so she can get a new car seeing as I 'destroyed all worth' in her old one, which is now mine.

"Just pick one and let's go," I complain.

"Silent."

I don't bother arguing and take a seat on the bench across the room.

A few days ago, when Dick decided to wet the bed with his showered body, Jason, Tim and Mai had walked in on us. It was mortifying and hilarious. Luckily I was covered. When we had both showered and dressed, Dick left to find Jason and Tim who had gone home. It left me with Mai who screamed at me for an hour about my treatment of her car.

So here we are getting her a new one.

My phone starts ringing when the dealer comes over to talk to Mai. The number isn't familiar, but I answer anyway.

"Cleo speaking."

"Hello, this is Officer Elter of the GCPD," a guy responds. My stomach drops,"You're the emergency contact for a man found unconscious in the subway. Sergeant Eric Kelly." Oh, fuck. "May I ask who I am speaking to?"

There isn't a single cell in my body that doesn't want to help Eric. I've been waiting to hear from him again, but I didn't think it'd be like this. I know there will be trouble.

"This is his commanding officer, Major Perich. In which precinct are you?"

There's a beat of silence and then,"I'm sorry...Perich as in Cleo Perich?"

"Do your job. Precinct?" Thirsty bitch.

"Right...Right- sorry. I'm from the 45th, but he's not at the station, he's at Gotham Royal. He was severely dehydrated and had sustained several injuries. You can find him in the recovery ward on the third floor."

"I'll be there."

When the call ends I stand up and look for Mai. Her back is too me and she's hunched over the reception signing documents. That means she's picked her car. That also means that if I abandon her because I don't want her analysing Eric and the potential dangers of associating with him, she'll be fine.

I mockingly wave goodbye to her back before I leave.

◊

◊

On the way through the hospital I keep my eyes low, trying not to gain attention. No one seems to notice me anyway with their eyes glued to phones or clipboards, people looking down or tired. It's good because it gives me a chance to try and settle my nerves over this ordeal. 

All I want to do is help Eric, I just hope he's willing to accept. I can't help but reignite my mental investigation into what he has been up to. I don't think it has anything to do with what's happening here with the company so what could it be?

I take the stairs rather than the elevator. When I reach the third floor there is an officer standing beside the main desk.

"Officer Elter?"

He nods when he sees me, tucks his thumbs into his uniform belt and straightens up. A little boy trying to act like a man.

"Where is he?" I state bluntly.

"Room 415," he says. I step around him and head down the hallway with 400-424 on it. "The doctors put him under anaesthesia to stitch up and clean some wounds he had. It appears he has been attempting to do it himself which is why they got infected. Does he have medical training?"

"Only the basics." Eric was a weapons specialist, close combat. As a result Jane had to patch him up often.

Another officer, an older one, is standing outside of room 415. He nods at me and reaches for the door handle. I stare at Eric through the blinds, lying awake, bandages on his face and head. He used to care so much about his face.

"He's cuffed?" I question, noticing the precaution.

"He was very hostile towards the doctors, but the meds they've got him on now are keeping him calm," Elter says, "Would you like me to sit in with you? Just in case."

I turn around and give him the coldest look I can.

"She's a Marine, Elter," his partner says. His eyes turn to me, "Take all the time you need, Major."

I nod back at him and he opens the door. I don't know what I'm expecting- for him to scream and tell me to get out? For a stony silence? The door shuts behind me and his eyes remain on the roof.

"Hey boss." 

It's quiet, but I nearly jump. I'm frozen mid-step towards the bed.

"You're awake," I croak. Stupid thing to say.

"I woke up about ten minutes ago."

He sounds remarkably calm, not at all what I expected. Instead of the crazed shell he was when he came to the apartment he seems more like himself. I assume it's the medication.

"Would have expected you to get those cuffs off and jump out the window by now," I say, trying to keep my voice level. Even as I sit by the bed, I'm still on guard.

"I was going to," he says, staring up at the ceiling, "but I haven't been on anything this soft in a few months."

The statement is a sad one. I think about my big pretty apartment and my California king. Even if I did offer everyone help, and some accepted, I can't help but feel the guilt.

He was the typical pretty boy. A jokester. A wannabe hero. But he was always one of the first to put his life on the line. Eric holds the record for being captured the most thanks to his reckless bravery. He suffered many different types of torture- physical, psychological, visual and worse. Who was once a cheerful boy competing with Jack for my attention is now a shell of the person he used to be.

"I'm sorry about...shooting at you," he says, finally looking over at me, "Did I hit you? Or that pretty boy?" His eyes glint with a bit of mischief at the end.

I snort, "You wish. Still a reckless shot." His face breaks into a familiar grin.

"No one could mark like Christa. She could shoot my morning stubble off a guy's face from miles away."

We both laugh at the memory. It reminds me of my engagement party, when I was reunited with the team and spent most of it hiding in a room with them.

"How is everyone?"

"Let's see... Heather still lives in Sunset and still has multiple lovers. She's living with her sister and rebuilding her relationship with her parents. Max and Jane finally got over their will-they-won't-they and moved to Metropolis. They want to have a baby soon but right now they're setting up their careers. She's got a residency at Metropolis General and he's gone back to bartending at some high-end club. Cameron moved to Chicago. The program found him a job working on terminal vehicles at the O'hare international airport. Lief moved back to his little home town, to his parents' farm, not to mention his high school sweet heart. Christa moved to San Francisco to do some LGBT+ youth work. As for Melissa, I don't know."

He smiles as he listens, "Everyone's free." The choice of words is strange. Free, not happy.

His hand, the one on the arm with his own Cyan Serpent, begins to roll in strange little circles. Cyan looks like he is sliding backward. I don't think he even realises he's doing it. 

"You're free, right?" He asks quietly, seeming to regress into himself. "That's all I ever wanted. For everyone to be free."

In a matter of seconds, like a flipped switch, his demeanour completely shifts. His eyes appear to glaze over as he stares off into the distance. His mouth slackens, then his body goes completely still, except for the slow scratching.

"Are you?" I ask. It's a dangerous question but something tells me it's the only thing that will get a reaction. 

His face begins to take on a serious expression. I glance over at the machine connected to his veins. Hospital grade. Our bodies burn through hospital grade medicine a lot faster than the average human.

"Eric-"

His head suddenly flicks to the side, like he can hear something from the left. 

"Fuel," he whispers.

A feeling of complete and utter dread overcomes me at the single word.

"Fuel?" I repeat, insides twisting. "What? The Dark Life Fossil Fuel?" AKA the very thing that started the war we fought.

Though there were a few small missions we went on, the big ones all pertained to the same enemy; Edgar Woods, an American criminal meta-human who Waller and ARGUS were after for years before they found him in Relaysia, using the poor folk there to build himself an army.

His main goal was mining the plains there for fuel. A special type made from the eroded fossils unique to Relaysia. The codename for it was Dark Life. We never got to the bottom of his intentions for it, assuming that he just wanted to sell it off to the highest bidder, as it was highly volatile and very useful for weapons and travel.

It was Woods' main enforcer, Torment, yet another extradited American that...well, killed Jack.

Eric's attention is on me. Sullen eyes are desperate and he won't stop rolling his wrist. 

"Cleo- He's back." My heart drops. My hands start shaking. I don't know which 'he' he means. Could it be Torment, who tortured all of us multiple times? Or Edgar Woods, who scurried back into the shadows when we shattered his operation? "I remember now- I was tracking him. He was in Ivy Town."

"What the hell?" I snap, standing up, "Why wouldn't you alert us? Did you seriously track him on your own?"

He looks anguished, like he might cry.

"I though-...I thought you were working with him." His next movement is so sudden I don't have time to be offended. He tugs his Cyan arm up and rips the cuffs away from the bed. He grabs my arm so hard that it hurts. I nearly hit him before he says, "I tracked his communications all the way to Sunset City, right to your family's company."

The beeping on the machine behind me starts to increase. I lean down and take his face into my hands to keep the frantic little movements he's doing at bay.

"I think Batman knows," he whispers fiercely like the crusader can hear him, "He was in Relaysia with his team, asking Waller all about you last week. My ARGUS insider told me. I-It's like before Cleo. He's mining again only this time much faster because of all the stuff he's getting from your dad. I've got it all in my notes."

"Notes?" I echo, "Eric, where are your notes? Are you keeping them in Cyan?"

In a moment that I imagine will chill me forever, he goes completely still and his pupils constrict, leaving pale green eyes staring in disbelief at nothing. Cyan's movement catches my attention as he coils as far up Eric's arm as he can. Amethyst curls around mine tightly, like she senses something. 

Less than a second later Eric rips the other cuff off, flips it around and uses the broken jagged edge to deeply stab his other wrist and begin sawing it open. I watch in horror as blood spurts out onto me, him, the floor and the bed.

"Stop!" I shout, grabbing the attacking arm and pulling it back. I put my other hand over the wound and cringe at the warmth of it. My top and jacket stained red, the sheets are soaking through, the cops are running in and shouting for the doctor.

He looks up at me with pleading eyes as we struggle.

"I don't want to face him again boss," he cries. 

The room floods with people. All I can do is stand there with blood all over me, staring at my Weapons Specialist bawling like a frightened child.

It fills me with sadness...and rage.