Fic: You're Not Alone

[katzedecimal]

This comm needs more cowbell fic.

Other Ones 1: Boomtown
Other Ones 2: Up to Speed
Other Ones 3: Dear Diary

Title: You're Not Alone
Author: Katzedecimal
Rating: T
Characters: Pipster, Captain Boomerang, Question
Summary: The gang compare notes


It was a dark and stormy night. The door opened and the sodden figure stumbled in, slamming it behind him and leaning against it as though to keep the world out. "Tell me again why this is supposed to be so much better than robbing banks with rubber chickens?"

Hartley laughed sympathetically and put down his book, digging himself out of the blankets on the chesterfield. He grabbed a towel and tossed it around James's neck then hugged him, "You look like a drowned rat in a suit. And you're cold!"

"Mmm and you're toasty warm," James said, burying his nose near Hartley's ear. He held onto Hartley for several minutes, relief flooding him. It had been a very trying week.

Hartley pulled back and smiled the smile that made it all worth while. "C'mon, get out of that soggy monkey suit and come eat. I saved you some, it's in the oven."

"Thanks babe," James sighed. He went to change and came back rubbing his head with the towel, "Is it Killer KD? Or your special charbroiled beeners and weans?"

Hartley favoured him with a bad look, "I'm not that incompetant, James."

"Hart, you're the only person I know who has managed to screw up the preparation of something so simple as a can of sardines."

Hartley gave up, "It's take-out. I know I can't cook."

"Gotta give you props for trying," James teased as Hartley dished up the take-out for him, "Maybe one day your version of Orange Death won't actually live up to its name."

Hartley set the plates on the table and sat across from him, "So how's Keystone?"

"Same old same-old," James sighed, "Had a rash of Darwin Award-winning copper thieves."

"Always nice to see poetic justice cleaning up the gene pool."

"You used to be such a nice guy."

"Don't know where you got that idea," Hartley grinned, "So what's got you versussing the chicken tricks?"

James, chewing on a mouthful, didn't answer but thunked his briefcase onto the table and opened it. He dug through the papers and print-outs and handed one to Hartley. Hartley read it and his smile dropped away into a frown, "Ohhhhh dear."

James held up a couple of pen sticks, "And there's a lot more."

"I think you should show this to Owen."

"I was about to ask your opinion on that - thank you."

"No problem," Hartley shrugged, "S'what I'm here for."

James gazed at him with eyes that showed just how true that was. "Yeah," he said softly, "I could always count on you to know the right thing to do."

Hartley was silent for a moment, then got up and held out his hand, "Come on." He guided James to the chesterfield and lay back into the nest of blankets. He pulled James down with him, pulling his head onto his chest and tucking the blankets around them. "What are you thinking?"

"Who says I'm thinking anything?"

Hartley chuckled, "I know you too well, love. I know that look."

James smirked and looked up with a slightly challenging expression, "Well if you know me so well, you tell me what I'm thinking."

Hartley contemplated him for a few minutes, ruffling his fingers through the blond hair. "You're thinking about rubber chickens."

"It's a fair cop."

"You're thinking that if they're getting away with it, why can't you."

James stared at him then smirked, "It's uncanny how you do that."

"Is there anyone higher up to report her to?"

"That's the thing, they already know about her," James smacked the sofa in frustration, "She's been run in a few times and they give her a smack on the wrist and put her back in action." He sighed, "I'll let you look at the info, see if you see what I'm seeing or if it's my imagination."

"You think she's taking the fall for someone else?"

"You sure you're not a latent telepath, Hart?"

"I just know how to read you, Sunshine," Hartley chuckled. He laid his cheek against the top of James's head, "This is sounding a lot like the Illuminatus! Trilogy."

"I ain't fucking no apples," James grinned. "Some of the stuff I've uncovered... Yeah, you're right," he said thoughtfully.

Hartley nuzzled his hair, "We can play 'spot the fnords' in the morning, Sunshine. You just got home; it's your down time now."

"Yeah." James lay back down, listening to Hartley's heartbeat, the drumming of the rain and the crackle of the woodstove. He still felt... well, 'weak,' feeling needy like this. Needing Hartley's strength, needing his morals and guidance, his friendship... needing a cuddle. That's Papa talking. Still.

Nearly ten days since he'd gone back to Keystone and gone to the Bureau, looking for information on what Boomer had done to get himself chucked to the wolves like that. Hartley was able to hack dummy IP addresses for their IMs but even so, they'd kept contact infrequent to minimise the risk of being backtracked. By the end of the week, he'd found what he was looking for, the nightmares were getting more frequent and he knew he needed to come home. He needed and relied on Hartley as much as Hartley needed and relied on him.

"I can't keep doing this," he whispered against Hartley's chest, "It sucks the life out of me... the life you worked so hard to give back to me." He pressed his face against the firm muscle, "You gave me back my life and gave me back all the joy and fun that I'd lost while I worked there and I can't let that happen again."

"Do whatever you feel is right, James," Hartley said softly. He kissed the top of James's head, still petting his hair, "I'll back you up all the way."

"Arguing every step of it."

"Of course. That's why you love me."

James looked up and smiled, "Yeah...it is." He snuggled down again, feeling vastly relieved by Hartley's reassurances. "Times like this, I just don't care that you're not a girl," he sighed. Then he blinked. "...That didn't come out right, did it."

"No, it sure didn't," Hartley laughed and kissed him, "But you wouldn't be the man I love if you didn't jam your foot in your mouth once in a while."

"That only happens when there isn't something of yours already in it," James retorted. Hartley laughed again and hugged him, snuggling further into the blankets and tangling their legs together happily.

He hadn't cut his hair since James had found him. It had grown out a fair bit and now hung in somewhat shaggy long strands that fell fetchingly across his face, as though inviting to be brushed back with light fingers. With the happiness and love shining from his eyes, James could see in his face the copper-haired boy he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. He could admit that now; he'd known from the beginning, deep down, that Hartley was the one. "Are you happy, Hart?" he asked softly.

Hartley was quiet for so long that James looked up again. His face was thoughtful, giving the question serious consideration. "I can't think of a time when I've been happier," he said at last.

James knew he shouldn't ask but he had to know, "Even...?"

A mist of remembrance drifted over Hartley's eyes but he shrugged and nodded, "Even then."

James smiled and leaned up to kiss him. There was a picture of Hartley's previous partner on the bookshelf; when he'd come back into Hartley's life, James had stood before it, silently promising the other man that he would take care of Hartley and try to make him as happy as he had been then. He could have sworn the image of the dark-haired man had smiled a little wider. "C'mon," he whispered, "It's nearly midnight and I've missed you something fierce. Let's go to bed."

* * * *

"Morning, Owen."

"Morning, Aunt Tricksy! ...oh, sorry, Uncle Hart..."

"...you could've waited until I'd finished drinking..."

"'Aunt Tricksy?!?'"

*click!* "I'm so glad you got home safe, Aunt Tricksy!"

"...kleenex, please..."

"Hey Hart, you okay? I got first-aid!!"

"...i hate you both..."

"He's just so glad you're home, Aunt Tricksy."

"Alright, that does it, c'mere you..."

"Hey..! WAAAAAAUGH!!!!!"

"That'll learn ya, ya punk."

"Ow. Now my brain hurts."

"Can't be, you don't have one."

"Do too!"

"Not if you're calling me 'Aunt Tricksy.'"

"Ow... you got one hell of a noogie, man. You okay, Uncle Hart?"

Hartley sat up and wiped his eyes, "As if I don't get enough of it from him... You two are trying to kill me."

Owen grinned apologetically, "Sorry, I didn't see your coffee."

"You're trying to kill me and steal my man, aren't you."

"Yup!" Owen grinned, "Why'd he want an old has-been like you when he could have someone young and fresh like me? Ah-haha!!" *click!*

"You click that stupid little camera one more time and I'm giving it to the rats!"

"Sorry, Uncle James. Your expression was just too classic."

"What's with the Candid Camera act lately, anyways?"

Owen shrugged and sipped his coffee, "I dunno. You guys are so much fun and I really love you both. I guess I just want some happy stuff to look back on when things are bad."

"Okay, I'll let you get away with that," James conceded.

Hartley nodded, "Good idea, as we're about to ruin your day."

"Uh oh.. what's wrong?"

James dug in his briefcase for the sheaf of papers, "Remember I told you that the thing with your dad was under orders from higher up?" He tossed the papers to Owen, "I found out who gave the orders."

Owen scanned through them and the colour drained from his face. "...flying fuck..." Silence answered him. He looked up, "My boss?"

"Lookin' like it. Her and/or her cronies."

The phone rang and Hartley got up to answer it. Owen stared at the papers again, "And then she recruited me to the Squad..."

"Still haven't uncovered why she chucked you to the wolves like that," James said. He turned suddenly to look in Hartley's direction. He frowned then turned back to Owen, "But while I was looking I found a lot of other stuff."

"This... this is..."

"I know," James said softly, "Piper figured you should know."

"Well, you were right about ruining my day," Owen sighed.

"Just don't go off half-cocked," James cautioned and grinned, "It's much better to wait and think and plan things out and then go off fully-cocked. Get out of my coffee, you mangey little contaminant!"

"Geez, where'd all the rats come from?"

"Road trip, guys," Hartley said. He was already in his jumpsuit and was buckling on his belt.

"Yeah I thought that was your trouble beacon I heard." James drained his coffee and got up, "She say what's happening?"

"Not a word."

"Bad sign."

"Can I ask what's going on?"

Hartley switched his glasses for the slightly heavier not-quite-goggles pair he wore when he was the Pied Piper. "A friend of ours is in a spot of trouble. You can come with us if you want."

"Yeah, sure. Lemme go get dressed," Owen nodded. When he came back, Piper had slung the concert flute and the heavily-modified 'tin whistle'-style pipe across his back and was adjusting them between his shoulder blades. Trickster had just put on his mask and was flexing his feet in his new Mark 8 split-soled airwalkers. Owen tucked his boomerangs into their slots in his jacket, "Where are we headed? Back to the Twin Cities?"

Piper flung his cowl up over himself, catching Trickster in the face. "Oh, sorry, babe.. Nope, Gotham."

"Gotham?" Owen blinked, "From here? We're kitting up now? You charter a private plane or something?"

"Nope," Piper smiled. Trickster was already outside, gunning the engine of Piper's bike.

"You're riding the bike to Gotham? Okay, what am I missing?"

Piper smiled again, "You don't know all of my secrets, Owen." He walked out and mounted the bike behind Trickster, "Race ya?"

Owen jogged beside them as they pulled out onto the road, "So is it a super-bike or something?"

"Nope, perfectly ordinary Harley-Davidson," Trickster was grinning widely, "You know he put me into the Trickster of a parallel world, right? Ever wondered how he got there in the first place?" He laughed and gunned the engine, then tore off down the road.

There was a sharp curve ahead and a gap in the safety rail along the edge. Owen blinked, "Uh guys, that's a sheer drop into the gorge!"

"Oh my god, you're right!" Trickster laughed. Piper brought a small fife to his lips and Trickster hit the accelerator. The sun was growing brighter and starting to dazzle Owen's eyes... then he remembered that the sun was behind him. The bike shot over the edge of the cliff, taking Owen's heart with it. It seemed to hang for a moment, then the brilliant light before it opened its throat and spoke with a voice that shook the mountain.

Owen stared long after the golden aperture had swallowed the pair and closed. Then he turned towards Gotham and began to run.

* * * *

He'd arrived just as the boom tube had discharged its passengers with another thunderous utterance. His own breathless exclamation, coupled with the previous statement about the cliff, had gotten him introduced to the Question as Captain Obvious. Now they were sitting in a greasy-spoon cafe by the harbour, listening as Piper described the events of the run while Trickster provided visual aids using table items and a customised Mini-mate. Mini-mate Piper was currently trekking across the table with a limp french-fry draped over his shoulder. Trickster had drawn stripes on it with a blue felt pen.

"I managed to whistle up a burro to carry Trickster... a burro, Tricks, not a burrito, give Boomer back his lunch... but eventually I had to.. let him go..."

"Ew and he tasted terrible too, all over-cooked and greasy."

"Aw, dude! - that's just gross. Better hope that stuff isn't toxic."

"So what happened next?" Question asked.

"I got boom-tubed to Apokalips and tormented by this DeSaad creep," out of the corner of his eye, Piper noticed Trickster rolling a cherry tomato off of his plate, "And he kept trying to get me to play my flute. Said my power came from this 'anti-life equation.' But he also said that he was the one behind everything that had happened to us, including Trickster's death. So I played." Trickster splatted the tomato with his water glass. "...It wasn't remotely funny at the time, I assure you."

"How'd you get back?" Boomer asked, wiping tears and tomato juice off his face.

Trickster balanced the Piper Mini-mate on the end of a spoon while Piper tried to ignore him, "Flute. I was certain I was going to die up there, so I was.... playing a swan song for myself and hit the right combination of notes again to open another boom tube. So I ran for it-" Trickster slammed his fist onto the bowl of the spoon. "Aaaand that guy's Caesar salad must be Gotham City because that's where I ended up."

"Sorry, dude!" Trickster called, "Can I have my Mini-mate back? Thanks!" He flipped the man a fiver and asked the waitress to bring him another salad.

"Oh... you guys. Don't ever stop laughing," Question said when she could speak again, "You guys have such a way of telling stories."

"Figure it's fair trade," Piper said, arching an eyebrow.

She nodded and handed him a couple of USB sticks, "Yeah, I got problems. I've been recruited, like it or not, y'know? And I don't."

"And you can't talk about it," Trickster said. Piper nodded and set a small pyramid onto the table. He pressed it and it began to glow an eery green.

"It's 'the future of global law enforcement,' or so I'm told."

"Who's idea of law?" Trickster said shrewdly. Piper tucked one of the USB sticks into his belt buckle then stared off into the middle distance, fingers twitching occasionally.

"That was the first question I asked," Question nodded, "It led to a lot of others and precious few answers. I was hoping you might know something."

"I do not like what I'm seeing here," Piper said. Boomer and Question both frowned, puzzled. Piper swapped out the stick for another one. After another few minutes he shook his head, "I'm seeing a pattern. This looks like an agenda."

"That's what I thought, but how are you..." Question trailed off as realisation dawned.

Trickster was grinning, "Took me ages to figure it out, how he accomplished those on-the-fly hacks of his. What's a sound guy need fairly heavy goggles for? 'Course, they've gotten lighter as he's refined the system."

"Dude!" Boomer breathed, "You're wearing a computer?!"

Piper pulled off his glasses and handed them to Boomer, grinning, "Your focal length will be different from mine so it might not be clear."

Boomer put them on and gasped as his field of vision suddenly filled with text and graphics. "They're a monitor? How...?"

"Used to use the glasses themselves as a screen but the technology's improved enough that I set them up to project onto my retinas."

"Okay that definitely beats Oracle," Question said, "What do you do for input?"

Piper wiggled his fingers, "Ever seen the old Fingerworks touch keyboards? I took similar technology and built it into my gloves."

Question sat back, "Hardcore and hardwired. I'm impressed."

"Well, wireless... That was a blessing, the old hardware was a real bitch if I got into a fight."

"Hang on, scroll that back a bit," Boomer said suddenly, "Same names."

"I saw that too," Piper said. He pulled off his gloves and handed them to Boomer.

Question leaned forward, "What names?"

"King Faraday. Rick Flag. Amanda Waller. Checkmate."

"That little gizmo means I'm okay to talk, right?" Question asked, "Know anything about an organisation called S.H.A.D.E?"

"Hmmm... Heard of it," Trickster said, "Past that, not much."

"That's who I got tapped by."

"Denver's been in the news a lot lately," Boomer said suddenly, "There's a lot of Denver mentions here too."

"We've been wondering about that," Piper said, "It's attracting attention lately and we're not sure why."

Boomer took the glasses off and looked at the others, "Checkmate's got a facility there."

Question arched an eyebrow, the movement barely visible under her mask, "How do you know that?"

"I'm on the Suicide Squad. The Wall's my boss."

"And we just found out that she was behind Project Zombie," Trickster said thoughtfully.

Piper nodded, "And then she recruited his son. She was behind the 'Salvation' thing, too, that they were trying to chuck us off to."

"We didn't know about that," Boomer said defensively, "We were offered the choice to work on the Squad for time-served or not. We didn't know that 'not' meant being shipped offworld to a kill-planet!"

Piper touched his hand lightly, "We know. We don't blame you."

"And after that, you started questioning your assignments a little more?" Trickster guessed. Boomer nodded. "Got a little too clever for the Wall's comfort; that'd be why she chucked you. Captain Boomerang was useful to her but as a stooge, and Digger knew it."

"That 'Salvation' thing was sick," Question said heatedly, "I hold that's directly responsible for the whole thing with Libra -- they would all have laughed in his face and showed him the door if they hadn't had that to galvanise them."

"No argument there," Trickster said, "Waller's methods aren't solving anything, they're just making things worse. She's surfing at the front of the wave and urging it along."

"And they call us super-villains," Piper sighed.

They sat in silence for several minutes. "You know, I think you're right about that," Question said finally, "Can anything be done?"

Trickster sighed and shook his head, "They already know about her - the U.S. government and the U.N. Whenever she's discovered, she gets a slap on the wrist then put back in action. She's too convenient of an excuse. They can look the other way and if she gets caught out, they can shrug and say independant operator, personal agenda, nothing to do with us."

Question pressed her hand to her forehead, "God, sounds like the reasons I quit the force."

"I'm about to quit the Bureau."

Question and Boomer both blinked, "You are?"

"Well what the hell's the point?" Trickster said, exasperated, "What's the point of bringing in penny-pinchers like the Rogues when the real villains aren't just getting away, they're being endorsed and given funding!"

Question nodded, "Where's the point at which 'black ops' becomes simply 'black?'"

"She used to keep capes on the Squad, to remind her of that," Boomer said thoughtfully, "They all quit, got too disgusted. There are still a few capes in Checkmate but there haven't been any capes on the Suicide Squad for a long time."

"That says a lot right there," Question nodded.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Piper sighed, flipping his hair out of his face.

"Except for you. You're incorruptable," Trickster smiled.

"Yeah, I've wondered about that, Wise Brother -- how'd someone like you get to be a Rogue?"

"Paying off my parents," Piper replied, "They poured a lot of money into trying to turn me into a clone of my father, basically. Couple that with some teenage angst and some really cool powers..." He shrugged. "I used my ill-gotten gains to pay back every 'Rathaway dollar' they'd spent on me," he said sarcastically, "They never gave any of it back though. That would've meant exposing the dreaded Rathaway Secret."

"That their son, despite being a quasi-super-villain, was a far better person than they were," Trickster grinned. Piper shot him a grateful look. "I met his dad once, he's not kidding. After fifteen minutes I was ready to cave the guy's head in with a rubber chicken."

"Are you serious? You never told me that."

"Well, he didn't know who I was or that we were friends."

"What made you go straight, for a given value of the word?" Question grinned.

"I'm the only straight one at the table again, aren't I."

"'Fraid so, babe."

"You're straight?"

"He's only gay for me 'cause I'm just that good-looking."

"What? ... yeah, I got nothin'. It's true."

"Uh huh!" Boomer nodded.

"You too?"

"I'm young! - I'm whatever it takes to get laid."

Laughter rippled around the table. Piper smiled, taking his gloves and glasses back, "To answer your question, Flash died at about the time I'd finished paying off my parents, and I'd figured out that I was being steered down a road I wasn't sure I wanted to go down. It seemed the right time to give it up and get out."

Question nodded and looked at Trickster, "What about you?"

"Ah, I was just in it for the kicks," he grinned, "Purely the challenges. The capes were so damned predictable sometimes, it was just a lot of fun, playing the screwball and doing loony things like robbing banks with rubber chickens. Half the time I didn't even keep the money."

"What about you?" Boomer asked suddenly, "What brought you into this?"

"Police corruption," Question replied, "Too many investigations getting swept under the carpet, too many pay-offs." She shook her head, "It's even affecting the capes. Used to be the vigilantes got into it to speed things up. They were there to help the cops, get the blockages out of the machine. Now..." she stared disgruntled at her hands on the table, "Seems more of them are into it to beat people up 'legitimately.'" She mimed quotes.

"Like your ex?" Trickster guessed.

Question grinned, "Fuck you. Yes."

"Finally got tired of her, huh?"

"I'm a detective, Trickster. It's my job to ask questions."

"Is that why you're called the Question?" Boomer quipped, grinning.

Question turned back to Trickster and Piper, "Wow, he's good!"

"None better," Piper smirked.

"That is an awesome power of stating the obvious!"

"Thanks, I get it from my dad."

Trickster and Piper fell about laughing at that. "Can't really argue with that," Piper said, wiping his eyes.

She nodded and looked at Boomer, "So you're following your father's footsteps, huh?"

Boomer looked down, "Yes and no. I wanted revenge over what the feds did to my Dad... but I guess I more wanted revenge at life for taking him away so fast. But... it was Dad's wrong decision that did him in. It's been pretty hard to accept that."

"I'm impressed. A lot of guys never do," she said, "Where are you going from here?"

Boomer looked up, "I'm thinking Denver. It's got no one there to look after it, right? I can keep an eye on Checkmate there, and I'm on the Squad so I can keep an eye on the Wall and her bag o' douches."

Piper gave him a concerned look, "Are you sure you want to do that, after she chucked you to the wolves like that?"

"I'll just have to make myself indispensible so she can't chuck me," he replied.

Question leaned forward, "You know, it seems to me there's an opportunity here. With me in S.H.A.D.E. and Boomerang in the Squad, we can acquire a lot of information. We may not be able to do much with it right now, but eventually this is all going to hit the fan. When it does, somebody needs to know how it got to that point."

Trickster pushed his hands through his hair and sighed, "You're right. This means I can't quit. I've got access to the feds' databases; we'll need all that information."

"At least you're part-time now and not stuck behind the desk all the time," Piper reminded him, "And you've got the veto power. No more douche-work."

"No, now they give it to somebody else, but it's still being done."

"Of course. And they'll be keeping an eye on you because they know that you know." Question tipped her head, thoughtful, "Someone may come recruiting, same as they did me."

Trickster nodded, "I know, that's why the feds were so eager to get me in the first place and nearly bend over backwards to keep me. Look at it this way, it means you're having an effect."

"Enough of one that they figure they'd better keep you where they can see you," Piper added.

Boomer smirked, "Better inside pissing out than outside pissing in, sort of thing."

Question laughed and slapped his back, "You'll do. Keep in touch. I think we'd all better keep in touch. Any way we can do that safely?"

"Leave that to me," Piper nodded.

Trickster rubbed his chin, "S.H.A.D.E, huh. I'll see what I can dig up on 'em."

"I'll feed you whatever I can. Thanks, Sailor."

Boomer arched an eyebrow, "'Sailor?'"

"Ever seen his Sailor Moon schtick?"

Boomer blinked at the sudden visual and clawed his eyes, "Oh GOD."

"People don't do that in Gotham. The only people having fun are the bad guys."

"Keep telling me that, Quest," Trickster said quietly, "'Cause you're right, and it's real easy to lose your sense of humour in that place."

Piper smirked, "Federal Bureau of Douchification." He squeezed Trickster's hand briefly.

Question reached out and covered their hands with her own, "I cut back a fifth a week after I met you guys. We need you to remind us why we're doing all of this in the first place."

Boomer nodded and reached out to join his hand with theirs. They looked at their four hands, united, and looked at each other. Then all four broke up laughing. "The first person who says 'Titans Together' or something similarly stupid gets smacked with a boomerang, I'm just sayin'."

Trickster grinned slyly, "Rally 'round the..."

Piper scowled, "Shut up, shut up! It was a joke, it wasn't meant to be taken seriously!"

"No, you're right, what we need are individual transformations that turn us briefly and distractingly nude..."

"Oh GOD..."

"Maaa-jikku Trikksu!"

"Put the fork down!"

Question wiped futilely at her eyes, "Oh you guys... I don't know how you do it."

Trickster shrugged. "I dunno, it became pretty clear after I hooked up with Piper," he said, gazing fondly at his partner, "Solitude divided by friendship, plus laughter plus self-worth plus praise, times respect times understanding times faith equals solidarity, where love equals compassion, life equals joy, ups equal downs, fears equal hopes and sex equals sacrament."

The silence spread out around them. "I so needed to hear that," Question whispered, "Yeah. Thanks. I think I can do this."

Boomer nodded as well. They got up and flipped some bills onto the table, then noticed that everyone in the cafe had the same small, happy smile. "I think a lot of people did," he said, a little awed.

They walked out towards Piper's bike. Question pushed her hands through her hair with a relieved sigh, "Thanks for coming all this way. It's... One day I'm running around Gotham asking the hard questions and the next I'm sucked into something huge that doesn't feel right."

"I know exactly how you feel," Boomer said earnestly.

Question nodded. "I called you because... I needed someone to know what was going on in case I.. disappeared." Piper just nodded.

"No, I'm glad you called," Trickster said, "This does sound serious. You're right, the more we know about it, the better off we'll be."

"What about you, Sailor?" she asked as Piper turned to disarm the security on his cycle, "You said you were close to quitting... Are you going to be okay?"

Trickster nodded, "I should be." He snatched suddenly at Piper's cloak, pulling him close and squeezing his ass, "I got the best incentive right here!"

"Trickster!!" Piper blushed, indignant yet pleased. Boomer and Question doubled over howling.

"Oh god, that was perfect!" Question laughed.

"That collar thing is ace! The little heart and the exclamation point!" Boomer agreed, wiping his eyes.

"Where are you bound now?" Question asked.

Boomer considered for a few moments then looked up at his adopted uncles, "I think I'm going to take a quick swing past Denver, if that's okay? I'd like to take a look at the place."

They nodded. "We'll use the time to stop in at Keystone," Trickster said. He glanced at Piper, who nodded. "Meet you back at the love shack," he grinned.

Question waved then turned and disappeared down the street. A few minutes later, the pier was empty and the voice of thunder spoke in the clear Gotham sky.