Reminder:

Venus Meadow = Skylar Salvore
Ginger Meadow = Danielle Salvore
Caelan Meadow = Menolly Salvore
Sim Lusches = Simon Salvore
Caeden and Drew Salvore were not renamed before their death

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"What are you doing here, Simon?" I ask, still on guard, even though the smile he gives me is real.

He looks at the sky, "It's just Sim now. It has been a long time since anyone has called me Simon. It's okay though Skylar, you can keep calling me that."

I don't know if it's the dull look I give him, or a glare from the Bat, but Simon sharpens up and answers my question.

"I wanted to see you," he admits with a little shrug, "I'm sorry things happened this way but it could not be helped. I wanted to know if you had changed. I'm glad to see you are not the cold-blooded killer you used to be."

"Cold-blooded killer? " I repeat, "Like you? You abandoned the family because you thought you were ready and papa knew you weren't."

It's almost like the words stun him. He doesn't seem to be able to accept that I am calling him out on this. On leaving us, me, Ginger, the family.

"I abandoned the family because our beloved papa was keeping secrets from us." His slow, methodical steps halt a yard from me. I feel Batman and Robin turn the awareness up to full throttle. Simon gives me a pained smile, "Keeping secrets from you."

The feeling of someone I have missed, almost mourned for years, finally standing in front of me is overwhelming.

"I came back because I missed you. Is that so hard to believe?" He asks. I use every ounce of my power to read him and despite what Batman is probably thinking, he's not lying.

My own instincts are flattened by the urge to reach out and touch him. There is a scar on his cheek, placed over the high bone there. I raise my hand hesitantly. He glances at it and does nothing, like silent permission.

Slowly, I bring my fingers to his face. Before I can even consider all of the possibilities, like a trap or betrayal, my nails are brushing his jaw.

"Simon? Simon, where are you going?"

His skin is soft. 

It contrasts to the rough image of the last time I saw him. He had snuck into the grand penthouse room Ginger and I were sharing. He kissed Ginger's sleeping forehead, crept his way over to me and did the same before turning his back.

I asked him where he was going and he said nothing as he walked out the door.

The vision flips the switch. He goes from gazing at me like the long lost siblings we are, to ultimate fear as my expression warps into anger.

My hand moves to his chin and I squeeze the sides of his mouth with one hand.

"Fourteen years," I snap through grinding teeth, pressing harder, "Fourteen years of pain and bullshit and you weren't there." 

"I know that!" He says defensively as my hold forces him to yield. I see shadows around us, at the ready to take me on. He raises his hands in surrender, "I know that, and I'm sorry, Skylar, I truly am. But I'm here now." 

In an attack I allow, he knocks my hand away and straightens up, but he doesn't back away. If he expects tears to be in my eyes, they're not. I'm not sad, I'm angry. I must look wild with my face pulled back into a sneer and my eyes screaming fury.

"You have no idea," I whisper fiercely as my shoulders twitch in agitation, lungs desperately trying to gain the air rage depraved them of. 

He has no idea. No idea about the amount of times I wished he was there to protect us. No idea how many times Danielle woke up in the middle of the night to sit and stare at the door, waiting for him. No idea how many times Menolly asked about him. No idea what tragedies occurred when he was not there for comfort or support.

"I'm here for you," he whispers, eyebrows knitting together as he lowers slightly to my level. His concern is genuine but I still jerk back the hand he reaches for.

"Why now?" I snap, rolling my shoulders back to regain some composure.

It looks like there is a story behind his next expression. He seems to be weighing up his options. Truth, or lie. Surely he hasn't forgotten that I see through both?

"I-"

"You need some legal shit done? Gonna use me for that now? Or is it money, or dad, or-"

"I just wanted to see you!" He snaps, bewildered expression overtaking his face like he can't believe I'm reacting this way, "You don't think I missed you? I want to see all of you! I haven't even met Menolly. I haven't seen Dani, I can't even find Caeden or Drew and I doubt they'd even want to see me. I came to you first because I thought you'd understand. We just...We need to catch up and..." He starts to trail off.

I know why.

It's the devastated look on my face.

"Skylar?" He draws back, confused, "What's wrong?"

Suddenly the rage is dissipating. It joins the plans to bring him to his knees and the prospect of turning my back on him in the whirlwind spinning out of my mind.

No. Oh, no way. Those words did not come out of his mouth. I'm dizzy is all. It's the adrenaline and the emotion and the hormones. That's all. He didn't just say that. He didn't just talk about them like they're still here.

"What did you just say?" I whisper, losing all of the bravado in favour of despair. My heart aches for having to relay the news, because I thought I was done with it.

Simon looks even more confused now and just as afraid as me.

"I said you understand," he responds in a wary tone.

"Not that," I swallow the lump in my throat, fidgeting on the spot. Oh God, please don't make me do this. "You said... You said Caeden and Drew."

My father likes to hide things to keep us looking strong. Anyone outside the exclusive club of the Salvores is oblivious to the fact that Anton Salvore's notorious children, Simon, Caeden, Danielle, Skylar, Drew and Menolly are alive and murdering.

They don't know two of us are not, one of us is in another gang, one of us is a cop, one of us is edging their way out and one of us is an attorney for the right reasons.

He even managed to keep it a secret from the prying eyes of my brother.

"Simon, they're-" I choke off when I feel a heat in my eyes that differs from the previous. I takes a deep breath and look up at the sky to keep those tears in, "Simon," I drop my head forward and stare him straight in the eyes, "Caeden and Drew are dead."

Caeden and Drew are dead. 

There is a delayed reaction, because at first he stares at me like I'm lying. As if I'd joke about something like that. When he seems to understand he starts pacing backwards, devastation in the lightest form taking over him. I want to reach out and hold him, then punch him.

"Wh..." He trails off, before grunting like it physically ails him. It seems to, when he grips his shirt and bends over to rest a hand on his knee. He drops his head to stare down at the dock wood and lets out a rough "How?". 

"Caeden was eighteen," My voice is hollow, painless, "Three years after you left a lieutenant from the Schöser gang shot him in the head. That lieutenant was my first kill. Drew died six years later on his sixteenth birthday. Got into the limo with his friends and it blew up. It was the Triads that time, not the Germans."

"That long?" He exclaims, voice sounding completely drenched in grief, "They've been gone that long and I didn't even-"

"You didn't bother to check on us!" My roar frightens him. Something snaps in me like weak plastic at this revelation. It's all over in less than a second because it comes pouring out like one of my assessments. There is not knowledge or learning to this though. Just pain. 

My own harshness scares me as I spit the words like venom, "There's a difference between spying and asking yourself, Simon!" I back away on my own accord because I really could hit him right now. "They're dead. Lilah died too. And Brooklyn, Petro, Asta, Yevgeny, but you didn't bother to check. You should have been there when dad tried to force us into marriages. You should've been there when we were down to handguns and pressed against the wall! You should have been there when we had to scrape our little brother's remains off the sidewalk!" I clench my fists tightly when my voice cracks at the end, dissolving into a weak little, "You should have been there."

I can feel that my palms are hot like fire. If I open my hand my gloves might be melted plastic, just like the singed Red Hood shirt. Rage brings out past and long lost powers, especially when I am in such an emotional state.

"You are welcome to try and weasel your way back into our lives," I tell him, desperately wiping tears off of my face as I back up towards Batman and Robin, "but don't think for a second, that it will be easy."

I leave my long lost brother kneeling on the docs like that. I turn on my heel and ignore both of the looming shadows my child's uncle and grandfather cast. I only hear the click of my heels against the cold concrete as I retreat to my car liked a coward.

Suppressing sobs through gritted teeth, I fumble with my carkeys when I reach the door. I give up eventually when salty water blurs my vision in the already dark street, then bash my forehead into the car roof. 

Stop crying. Stop crying. I don't cry. I'm not a cryer. They're gone and there is nothing you can do. It's not your fault he didn't know. 

Stop crying.

Get a grip. Good. Get a grip. Better. Get a grip.

Three deep breaths and I manage to reel in a little more sanity than before. I swallow hard and straighten up, focusing on my keys again. As I unlock the car and yank the door open, I glance up at the top window of the Dixon West transit building.

I sneer at where Jason might be, hating him in that moment more than ever, before I slip into my car and race away from everything.

◊◊»«◊◊

"She looks so sad," Yazmin pouts, watching the orange sports car speed down the Gotham night road. Makena hums from beside her, voice barely heard above the obnoxious munching of chips in her hand.

"It's that idiot up there," Mona states, jerking her chin up at the floor Jason Todd is concealed in.

"Calm down," Leeri yawns from above them where she is strewn across the next rooftop. "If we so much as lay a finger on him, we're dead."

"Yeah but Mona already punched him in Dubai."

"The Empress won't mind...or find out," Mona defends, folding her arms and looking away from her three companions.

The girls stand among the dirty tiles and dried-blood-splattered concrete, clad in their red outfits signifying their membership to the Warriors of Red.

"We're dead anyway," Leeri throws in, "If Lady Moon and the other council members find out that we've been in Gotham, breaking Lady Salvore's wishes, we're dead."

"And," continues Yazmin, "If the Empress herself finds out, she might kill us."

"On top of that, we're in Gotham. You can basically die at any moment," Makena agrees.

"I'm glad you're all so positive. Really. It makes standing out here in the cold in this hideous city so much more tolerable," Mona states, folding her toned arms and jutting her hip to the side. 

Leeri appears to shrug before she rises up with a yawn, "We better follow her, Makena."

"Right," the black-haired girl agrees, climbing up onto the roof to follow the other off into the night. 

Mona and Yazmin stay where they are, waiting for the Red Hood to leave. After all, it is their job to protect him.

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I'm sorry.