REMINDER: These are not comments, these are demands! If you want me to focus on this book ahead of the others tell me WHY and what you LIKED and DIDN'T. 

Who? 

That's the first thing on my mind. Who is shooting at us and how are we going to get out of it? There is no way I can use my powers with Grayson right here. We may just be literally dead in the water.

Bullets sink into the pool and we both grip the ladder to stay underneath. As soon as one hits the floor I grab onto the ladder with one arm and reach across for it.

Dick pulls me back towards the wall as I inspect the slug. 

Elite grade. 

It's him.

When the spray stops, I hold my hand up to Dick to tell him to stay. He shakes his head but I ignore him and emerge.

"Eric!" I shout, looking around the deck. It's eerily quiet. The glass doors are shattered and I can't see him. He has either concealed himself behind the sofa or pressed his back up against the wall around the corner. "Kelly, put the gun down."

I knew he'd find me again sooner or later. I should have been more prepared- I mean he grew up here. It was only a matter of time before he found his way here trying to kill me again.

"We don't get to be happy."

His voice is broken, distressed, coming from all directions as I climb out of the pool.

"I thought that for a long time too, Eric." The closest gun is the one hiding in the sofa from Mai. If he's using guns it means a serious disuse of his powers. They must have faded.

"Y-You're betraying him."

I freeze as his tone rises, "I'm not-"

"You killed him and you've already replaced him!"

"I did not kill him!"

I dodge roll on the path with the least amount of glass into the apartment. It means I temporarily come into his range but once I'm behind the sofa, I rip away the bottom cover and pull out whatever firearm I hastily threw in there behind Mai's back.

I draw on him and it becomes a standoff. He, backed up against the wall beside the glass doors and me, half-on the sofa with the gun resting atop of the backing.

Eric was a handsome young man when he first joined my team. An unhealthy thirst for danger lead him to be the right kind of candidate for the job. Waller certainly took advantage of it. He was fun-loving, always put the kids first in village situations and would be the first to crack a joke in a dire situation.

Now, a shell of that person stands before me. He looks homeless because he is, clothes full of holes and covered in muck. His bullet proof vest fraying and sagging, like he hasn't taken it off and then lost weight beneath it.

"Eric," I begin slowly, unsure of what else to say but, "I loved him, I swear." The automatic in his hand is quaking as emerald eyes, once sparkling and full of life, stare wild and afraid at me. "I tried everything to stop it but I couldn't. I'm haunted by it every single day."

Dick starts to get out of the pool.

"No one could ever replace him."

In the distance, sirens can be heard. They could be for some other typical Gotham emergency, but I'm sure the neighbours called the cops the moment they heard the gunshots. Also, it's likely he shot or at least injured the guard to get in here.

He swallows hard, still regarding me with psychotic suspicion. 

"Someone has to pay," he whispers, lips quivering. I see his gun start to lower just a bit. I want to tell Dick to stop sneaking up behind him. The situation won't diffuse if he plays a part in it.

"They did."

Dick stops upon those words, frozen on the other side of the wall. He's likely to be watching me but if I let my gaze wander that way Eric will know, turn and shoot him.

"But you're still here," he responds, body moving in an unconfined fidget, like his internal dilemma is effecting him physically. "You're here and you- You married him of all people." Dick draws back, probably confused.

"Kelly don't-"

"Jack died because of the likes of him. That whole thing happened because of your new husband, Perich. When he-"

My shot is fired for the sake of keeping him quiet, rather than to hurt him. It feels far too comfortable and familiar; the smell, the jolt in my hands, the deafening bang. So like home that I am taken aback as Eric howls, bullet burying itself in his arm.

He raises his gun and fires but I'm already rolling backwards off of the sofa. 

Without a moment in between I get a hand on the leg of the coffee table and swing it around as I stand, dragging it up off the floor and throwing it towards him.

Eric dodges the airborne furniture which crashes against the wall. He moves outside towards the pool as I leap over the sofa. When he turns to face me, he instead catches sight of Dick.

I see the moment Eric remembers the day we met Nightwing. I don't know how he figured it out, if he heard Rip tell me that I would know who Nightwing was by his pin or guessed that I would be in an arranged marriage for reasons beyond business.

But that very instant where they meet eyes and Eric is taken back to the war, he is overcome dread, drops his gun, turns around and sprints for the balcony edge.

"Eric, no!" I shout, already sprinting after him but not quite making it before he hoists himself up and tosses himself over the barrier.

I almost end up over the side as well, but I stop at the last second to see him falling to what could be his death. But in the most dramatic, Gotham-esque move I've seen yet, he pulls a string on his bag and an Elite grade parachute flourishes out, carrying him with the wind far away.

◊

◊

"You have an abnormal amount of guns, Mrs Grayson," a detective says to me as he emerges from the bedroom. There are several cops in our apartment, taking photos of the glass, collecting shells and taking our statements.

"I do, but I don't see what that has to do with the situation, or why you have to go into our bedroom in the first place," I respond.

The guy smiles at me like I'm a child. He's fat, sweaty, reminds me of Chief Wiggum from the Simpsons. 

"Do you have permits for the guns?"

"And you need permits, why? We're the ones who got shot at," Dick snaps from beside me. We're both leaning on the bench, still dripping wet. I have a pool tunic on and there are a few cuts on my legs from when I rolled over the glass.

"Should I make a call to Commissioner Gordon about the misconduct of his detectives, Detective Lank?" Detective Wank is more like it. 

Bruce Wayne's appearance catches everyone's attention. He is flanked by Damian, who takes in the scene with suspicious eyes.

Detective Wank flakes at the sight of the two powers, flattening his hair down with a weak apology. Bruce watches him scuttle away to talk to the cops before turning to us.

"Are you two okay? What happened? We came as soon as we got your text."

Dick nods, "We're fine. Cleo's cut but-"

"It's nothing," I glare, petting Cookie in my arms and avoiding their stares. "It was just... A mistake made by a very broken man. He blames everyone on my-...On our squad for the death of our second in command." My focus moves to Dick, "I don't want to press charges."

He nods immediately and I mask my surprise that he understands. 

"Your mother," Mai emerges from the office with my phone in her hand. She holds it out to me but I bat her arm away.

"Absolutely not."

"She's worried about you," Mai implores, trying to get me to take it.

"Tell her I'm so wrought by trauma I can't speak," I respond. I scoop up Luscious with my free arm and turn away from them all. I don't need to deal with them right now, Cleo Grayson's family- I need to deal wth Major Perich's. I kick the bedroom door shut behind me.

The cats settle on the bed when I place them down. Dick hides things under the bed, so I hide my stuff in the wardrobe. I have box shelves that hang down from the rack, with high heels concealing certain paraphernalia.

Behind an ugly pair of Gucci slippers is a communicator. What looks like a little earpiece is actually a way for me to contact my team.

I place it in my ear, head back to the bed, sit down, hold the button and speak, "Amethyst to rainbow. Non-lethal, highly important. Requesting full audience." My words will be put into text and sent to everyone's phone in code. They'll know.

Within the minute, the communicator beeps several times.

"Emerald, present." Heather.

"Burgandy, present." Max.

"Bronze, present." Cameron.

"Magenta, present." Christa.

"Graphite, present." Jane.

"Amber, present." Lief.

I move to speak, to tell them everything, because that's everyone I expected to respond. All the members who attended my wedding. The ones I hear from regularly.

"Citrine, present."

Melissa? 

I want to say her name because I can't believe she's actually responding. After her sister, Shona Danforth AKA Indigo died in our very last battle, she cut all of us off. Rarely does she take part in any sort of reunion.

"Okay," I begin carefully, "At approximately 20:00 this evening I was attacked by Cyan in my home. He had multiple firearms used to assault myself and my...husband. Upon a PTSD attack he parachuted from my balcony. My injuries are minor caused by shattered glass during a roll. I'm alerting you all to a possible continuation of his rage. If he is apprehended by authorities I will attempt to reconcile with him as I have in the past. I...shot him in the arm to avoid him revealing certain things to my husband."

 A beat of silence, followed by all of them speaking over the top of each other. I roll my eyes and take the earpiece out. The purpose of the communicators is to keep things as informative is possible instead of involving emotion. Business only.

"Hey- Hey! Shut up for a second!" I exclaim when I put it back in my ear.

"Do you want me to come and see you?"

"Did he look sick?"

"Was it my parachute? I thought I lost that Parachute in Parpaban!"

"Hey Melissa, are you really here or what?"

"If he's shot maybe he'll go to a practitioner or a vet."

"Is your husband still hot?"

"Fuck's sake, none of you have boundaries. No, Heather, I've barely been here two weeks. You don't need to come. Yes, Christa, he looked like absolute shit. I have no idea about the parachute, Lief, but there are more important things at hand. Cameron leave her alone. Max good thinking, though Eric doesn't ask for help from anyone. And Jane not that it's important but yes, my husband is still hot."

There mix responses are garble again, so I take the piece out with a heavy sigh.

"Thanks."

My attention snaps behind me to where Dick is leaning on the shut door.

"Rude," I frown back, putting the earpiece in again, "Look I just called to warn you assholes, okay? Am-...Cleo out." I press the button and cut them all off. "Really? I shut the door for a reason," I say to Dick as I stand up.

He shrugs, "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

I snort and stop a few yards from him, "If I'm okay? I spent years around bullets. You're the civilian here." He's doing a pretty poor job of at pretending he doesn't stop guns every night.

"Grew up in Gotham," he shrugs, "But I wasn't talking about the guns. I was talking about... Well, I mean, he was your friend and he brought up Jack." He voice softens at the end, like saying Onyx's name too loud is going to upset me.

It's nice, his concern. He's got this half-smile on his face, afraid to seem happy but not wanting to look sad.

"I'm fine," I tell him, giving him the same look, "I just want everyone to leave so that we can go to bed."

The silence that hangs in the air after that sentence is instantly filled with regret as I realise what I had just said.

Exhausted, I start to correct myself, "I mean-"

"I know what you mean," he grins. "They were just packing up. I locked the balcony, Bruce is going to make sure the entire place is Fort Knox. I'll go and tell them to hurry up. You just, take a shower. You smell like chlorine. I can't sleep with that."

I can't fight down the laugh that comes from that. I know that exactly why he said it. He gives me a bigger smile as he opens the door.

"I'll be back in a sec."

When the door clicks shut behind him and I head to the bathroom, I realise with an uncertain satisfaction that my hands stopped shaking the moment I heard his voice.

What is happening to me?