6

"I'm sorry." The words tasted like ash in her mouth. "But I can't help you. I left that behind. I want- I'm trying to be a better person. To raise my daughter better."

The boy who'd done the impossible, who had healed her, sat across from her at her kitchen table. He'd pulled his goggles up, revealing a pair of the brightest yellow eyes she'd ever seen.

And what he'd asked for in return for the miracle he'd given her?

An introduction to the criminal underworld.

"It's fine." He was looking at the wall behind her, gaze rather blank. She could tell he wasn't entirely focused on her, hadn't been since she'd already refused his request minutes before and kept justifying herself. "I wasn't actually expecting it, if I'm being honest."

He was drumming chipped fingernails on the faux-wood of the tapbletop.

Tap-tap-tap-tap

Tap-tap-tap-tap

Over and over again. Initially she'd thought it some subtle means of stressing her, to try and make her anxious.

Some of the clients who'd hired Lawrence and her in the past had liked to play such power games.

But he hadn't made demands. Hadn't suggested some form of alternate payment. After a few minutes of him staring into space and tapping, she realized it was likely just a subconscious habit.

Similar to how she used to pace when she got bored.

"I... I don't suppose there's anything else I can offer?" She didn't know what she could offer, what he would want. But if she could keep her daughter, this daughter safe...

"I don't suppose you know of a way for a minor with no I.D. to get to Los Angeles, do you?" To be fair, she actually could think of a few ways.

Unfortunately, none of them were legal or simple.

She shook her head no.

"Didn't think so." He stood up, bones creaking and popping as he stretched. "Nothin' for it then."

"W-wait!" He stopped at the doorway of the kitchen, turning to look at her. With the light behind him, she realized why his eyes were bright.

They were literally glowing.

"Isn't, isn't this the part where you-" She waved a hand at her hips, motioning towards her legs. "Where you take away what-"

"Yeah, no." He interrupted her. "I'm not in the business of hurting people because I didn't get my way. Some things don't pan out, that's okay. I'm not going to throw a tantrum over it."

He just turned around, waved at her once over his shoulder and walked out of sight. A moment later and she could hear the door of her apartment close.

For a while, she just sat there. Her hands rubbing up and down the tops of her thighs. She could feel them again!

They were weak, and they hurt. A bone-deep ache of sore, exhausted muscles that hadn't moved in so, so long.

But she could feel that they hurt! She could feel her hands moving over them! The texture of her cotton pajama pants had never felt so comforting.

Eventually she wheeled her way down the hall, stopping in front of her daughter's room.

"Artemis? Are you still awake?" She had questions, so many questions.

"...Yeah?"

"We need to talk. In the morning, we need to talk." Paula could feel her emotions swinging between elation and confusion.

"Alright mom." Her girl just sounds done. Done with today. Done dealing with wizards or, or whatever Alchemist was.

Rolling away to her own room, Paula had to agree. She was done with today, too.

She hoisted herself onto her bed and got comfortable. Looking down at her pale, thin legs she stared at her feet.

How long had it been since she'd moved them? She couldn't remember. Couldn't even remember how it felt to move them.

Moment after moment passed as she tried to get even the smallest twitch.

She wasn't actually sure it was real when she finally saw movement. Just her toes trying to flex.

But they curled. Not all the way, not even close. And even that small motion took so much effort.

But it was something. Something she never thought she'd have back.

Her feet were sore. Her legs were sore. But she still fell asleep with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face so wide it hurt.

-----

Nearly a week after the Artemis incident, Leslie once again found himself climbing up the stairs of a mostly abandoned building.

The economy just had not treated Gotham well. At all.

Independence day would be tomorrow. He was planning enjoy watching fireworks from atop the new apartment complex he was squatting in. There was actually a surprising number that still had their basic utilities turned on.

He pushed open the door and stepped through. Batman and Robin were nowhere to be seen yet, but he didn't really have that much to do.

Leslie rotated the little coffee cup carrier he'd gotten, then pulled out the cup with the white lid. He was not a fan of coffee, and opted for cocoa instead.

"You've been busy." Leslie did not jump when the voice unexpectedly came up behind him. He did, however, flinch.

"It's mostly been boredom." The mage turned around, Batman and Robin both behind him. He hadn't heard them get up on the roof, and that part at least did not surprise him.

"Most people don't accrue twenty-thousand dollars out of boredom." Batman took the container of cups and pulled one free, then handed the carrier back to Robin.

"Believe it or not, that's actually a side-benefit. My main goal is to get a better handle on material recompositioning." Leslie offered a half-shrug. "Figured this had a handful of knock-on benefits for the environment and Jeff's recycling business."

Batman held the cup up to his mouth, probably trying to smell if Leslie had added anything. Robin was less cautious, directly drinking it instead.

"And after the solar panels, it's closer to seventeen-thousand."

"...What do you need with five-hundred broken solar panels, anyway?" Robin finally spoke up, asking the question Batman was likely too proud to ask himself. "Where did you even put them all? We didn't even know the recycling centers here were holding on to them after that cold snap Freeze caused last summer."

"I figure I'm going to destroy a few learning to fix them. Then if I can get a few working, I'll be trying to figure out a way to convert electricity into magic. Then, if I can make that work, I'll need to figure out some kind of battery." Leslie took a sip of his cocoa, staring off into the city. "It's probably going to be some kind of crystal. It's always some kind of crystal."

It was rather telling that Leslie didn't ask how they knew about what he'd been up to. He had rather high expectations of their paranoia, after all.

"...I called you here to discuss a contract similar to what you offered the Justice League, Alchemist." Batman finally tried the coffee. Black and bitter, just like his childhood. "I'm attempting to create a secondary team, meant for the younger members. Someplace the Justice League can train our successors and help them develop the camaraderie that has allowed us to challenge threats that were beyond any of us individually."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that the other members think it's a good idea in theory, but are all arguing over the details and nothing is actually getting done, yeah?" Batman and Robin both were mutely staring over the city, listening to the ambient noises. "I'm guessing you're planning to ask me to contribute somehow?"

For a long moment, nobody said anything.

"Suppose I'll lay out my wants, and we'll work out the details. One-hundred and four grand a year, after tax. Ten percent raise on that salary every year starting from the third onward. Full insurance. Hopefully won't need it, but magic and teeth don't always mix well. Minimum of forty-eight consecutive hours of downtime per week. Don't care if it's back to back and I'm working the next ten days solid. In case of emergency you can call me, but it pauses the clock until I'm back on break. Good so far?" Batman nodded, but Robin just looked confused. "Last two things. One a requirement, other's a request if you can swing it. I need legal identification. From scratch. I can pass the G.E.D. and all that fun stuff if it helps. I just need to be able to legally open a bank account and buy property."

"Why from scratch?" Robin asked, stifling a yawn. "Can't you just get an I.D. for yourself?"

"You mean as Leslie?" Robin stilled, realizing he'd just broken some of the unspoken etiquette in the hero world. "That's where the request comes in."

Leslie sipped at his cocoa for a long moment as he contemplated how to say what he wanted to get across.

"He's... Not actually in here." He tapped at his chest. "And I need help. Probably a lot of help, honestly, to find him and give his body back. I'd rather not die again, so I've been researching how to make a body without dark magic or evil rituals, and that's been promising... But moving souls around is complicated and difficult and I -might- be able to do it, but getting good enough to do it reliably would require experimenting and I'm -not- comfortable with what that entails."

Robin was looking at him in disbelief. Batman, however, was glaring. He'd also moved in such a way that his cape was now closed like a cloak, so he was likely holding something on his utility belt.

"Don't look at me like that. I know you've met Boston Brand." Batman shifted. Some, but definitely not all, of the tension relaxed at the comparison. "My best bet is asking Death if she'd be willing to help. Barring that, there's the devil. He's retired, but..."

Leslie shrugged, trying to give off the impression of 'What can you do?'.

Now both of the caped crusaders were looking at him like he'd said something insane.

"What, seriously? She's probably one of the nicest beings you're likely to meet."

"Aww, you're just saying the sweetest things." Came a feminine voice from behind Leslie. The accent was impossible to place, he could swear he heard southern twang mixed in with New York rudeness and valley girl vapidness.

A pair of pale, impossibly pale arms wrapped around his neck in a loose hug and the person behind him set their chin on top of his head.

"Huh. Hey Didi!" Even if she wasn't willing to help him, this was still a win in his book. She was one of the Endless he'd always wanted to meet... Outside of her official function, at any rate.

"A little birdie came to me, they said @**&@%$#% had something he wanted to ask." He could hear it when she said his name, he knew what every letter and sound was supposed to be... But it came out corrupted, not like screeching metal or nails on a chalkboard, but like a glitching audio file.

"Well, it's more like I've got two things I need to ask." He reached into his inventory, unconcerned if Batman and Robin saw him pull a pair of cups, still hot and fresh from the cafe, out of nothingness. "But this first question is really, really important."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Coffee, or Cocoa?"