Fic: Family Ties, Part 6 (DCU)
OMG I forgot on Friday, didn't I?! My bad. :( I almost forgot today too!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A quick lesson in Gaelic by someone who doesn't know the language but knows people who do...sorta. Remember, the Saxons took all the good consonants and made the Welsh and Scottish fight over the leftovers. Anything they didn't want got tossed to the Irish, who went "what the hell...let's eff up their heads a bit then".
Dia Duit (pronounced roughly dj-eye-ah gwich but it's not a hard 'tch' more like the 'sch')-essentially 'hello', 'good day', or similar greeting. Dia is also a form of the word 'god'...not sure how that fits in. I always heard it as 'hello' or 'greetings'.
Conas ata tu? (pronounced koh-nas at tu)-essentially "how are you?"-why the second 'a' in ata is silent is for the same reason the 'd' in duit is a gw sound...because it makes everyone go "huh?"
Gabh mo leithsceal (pronounced "gaw maw lek-shale")-"Excuse me?"-I actually Googled on this one so it's probably wrong somewhere, somehow.
An bhfuil Gaeilge agat? (pronounced "on wil gwayl-ih-ga ah-gut" or "ohn weel gwayl-eh-gah ah-goot" depending on the area I think or how you hear it )-"Do you speak Irish?" And yes that's a "w" sound for the bhf...see? I told you the Irish took the left overs and effed with everyone's heads. It's revenge for centuries of invasions. I think they're entitled.
"mac" (pronounced the way we do in front of a last name like MacDonald "mak")-'son'-this is actually just Gaelic everywhere. Fitz is more formal and usually associated with a non-legitimate line thanks to the Normans and later English rulers...FitzHerbert, FitzWilliam, etc. However, this is not always the case. Like "mac", it merely means 'son of'. Legitimacy is notwithstanding.
"Black Canary, may I speak with you a moment?" Dinah turned in surprise to find Red Arrow confronting her. He wore his full suit, complete with mask and quiver, projecting a professional mien, instead of their normal cozy relationship. She was on instant alert. Roy in business mode was unpredictable.
"Yes, Red Arrow, a moment, if you please," she replied, turning back to Dr. Mid-Nite, who was looking politely curious. "I'll pass the word on to Zatanna for you, Pieter. Hopefully she can find something to help with that."
Mid-Nite smiled amiably at her response, nodded deferentially to Roy and sauntered out the door. Dinah took a deep breath and assumed the professional air that Roy was obviously wanting from her. "What can I do for you, Red Arrow?"
"Permission to take a leave of absence from the JLA."
Canary blinked once at the bluntness of the request. "Duration?"
"Undetermined." Overly professional, Dinah thought quickly, he's hiding something.
"May I ask why?"
"No."
Dinah frowned at him as a thought occurred to her. "Roy, I hope you aren't planning to do what I think you're planning on doing."
Roy's jaw tightened. "And you think I'm going to do...?" He let the sentence trail off.
"Find her?" suggested Canary, knowing that Roy would have no trouble figure out what 'her' Dinah was referring too. "Talk to her. I don't know," Dinah shrugged helplessly, "save her?"
"Yes, yes, if she'll let me." Roy turned around to leave. "If not, lie to her face long enough to find out what they are specifically planning to do."
Roy was a maverick, sometimes a loner, and oftentimes a pain in everyone's ass as he went to Hell in his own fashion. Not often, though, did Roy completely make Dinah speechless. Irritated, amused, confused or just plain pissed off...but stunned speechless....rarely.
"Are you mad?" she finally managed to say.
Roy turned to her, his eyes behind the domino mask's lenses burning with a strange green fire. "All of you may have doubts, but I don't. That woman is my mother. She fucked my father, carried me for nine months and birthed me." Dinah winced at the crude language. "I deserve to at least meet her outside prison walls just once."
"But as Red Arrow?" Dinah gestured helplessly. "Honey, no. It'll make you a bigger target to her organization."
Roy gave Dinah a scornful look. "I'm not stupid, Dinah. Of course I'm not going dressed as Red Arrow. I'm formally requesting to be off the JLA roster until I sort this out. For once, I'm being professional and stepping away from something I'm too close to. What I do on my own time is my own business." He gave her a sly look. "And if I find out anything useful, of course, I'll be sure to tip the good guys."
Dinah opened her mouth to continue to protest when she snapped it closed at another thought that popped into her head. "You aren't here for that. You wouldn't ask my permission for this, you'd just go and suffer the consequences later." Roy gave her a polite, inquiring look, confirming her suspicions. "You're curious as to my reaction about her." Roy's face went stony but the brief shift in weight as he forced himself not to take a wary step back from her possible ire cemented it. "You think I'll be jealous or resentful of her. You want to see what I think without having to ask me."
There was a tense moment of suspense before Roy grimaced. "Yes."
Dinah blinked back the sting of tears as she approached the young man she held in her arms as he screamed out the pain of withdrawal, showed her his baby daughter with a mixture of pride and shame on his face, and teased her out of her own black moods and dark funks with his devil may care grins and laughing green eyes. She cupped his close-shaven, chiseled jaw a moment before punching him lightly in the abdomen. "You idiot. I love you, but you hang around Ollie too much."
Roy eyed her warily, slightly bent from her punch. She smirked at him. He wasn't going to ask, but he didn't need too.
"Of course I'm not jealous. I knew you had a mother, where she was in the world was irrelevant to me, still is in some ways." Dinah drew herself up proudly. "I'm the woman who loves you like a mother. I'm the one your daughter considers her grandmother."
"She calls you Auntie," Roy interrupted.
Dinah shot him a 'shush, I'm making a point here' look. "I'm the one you come running to whenever you get in over your head."
"I do not!"
"Well, I should be," sniffed Dinah in a motherly fashion. "I do all the stuff that counts. What did she do?"
"Screamed in pain for up to 12 hours birthing me?" Roy suggested, flashing her a cheeky grin and dodging her playful swat.
"Brat. And I get to call you a brat. Even Oliver doesn't do that."
"No," Roy conceded, "you are the only one who gets away with calling me 'boyo'."
Dinah gave him a fond look and patted his cheek. "That's because you're my boyo, boyo. Begone with you. I expect that if you get in over your head-"
"I'll call Nightwing like I always do." Roy finished for her hurriedly. He ducked, dodged and beat a hasty retreat from her flying fist and fish-net clad left leg. As the door slid shut behind him, he heard her reluctant chuckle.
"Who ya gonna call?" Roy chanted in a similar fashion to The Ghostbusters theme, "Black Canary!"
* * *
"You let him do what?" exploded Ollie, slamming his palms down onto the kitchen table with such force that the oak platform actually shuddered in protest. Dinah said nothing, but slid a glance at Hal, who was equally appalled.
"He was going to anyway. Better he asked first rather than begged for forgiveness later," she defended.
"That woman will eat him for breakfast!" Ollie shouted, the vein in his forehead throbbing.
Dinah had enough. "Oddly enough, he's an adult and can make his own decisions. Shocking, huh?"
Ollie opened his mouth, let it hang like that a moment and then snapped it closed. "Explains why Lian landed in the middle of our bed this morning at 6:30, demanding cereal and cartoons."
Dinah gave Oliver an innocent look. She had early morning monitor duty but clued Mia in to Lian's imminent arrival. Mia winked at Dinah, who winked back. Ollie caught the exchange and turned to Hal. "It's a conspiracy, I tell you, a conspiracy."
"Grassy knoll, Ollie," soothed Mia insincerely, "grassy knoll." Ollie shot her a disgruntled look. "So did he have a plan, or is this the usual Arrow family fly by the seat of the pants and hope everyone comes out relatively intact sort of plan?" the young woman asked, pouring cranberry juice into a glass and handing to Dinah.
Dinah sipped the red juice. "I'd say the latter but something about the look on his face makes me think he's actually got a plan." Dinah paused. "I think that's more alarming, actually."
"My daddy has brilliant plans," Lian informed everyone in the kitchen as she sauntered in to snatch a doughnut from the box that Hal brought over earlier.
"Name one," countered Ollie morosely.
"He got me," Lian announced on her way out.
"I don't think that was planned," noted Hal with amusement at Ollie's nonplussed expression. "Fairly certain it wasn't in fact."
"She wasn't referring to her birth," Dinah said with a slow smile. "She was referring to her daddy taking her away from Cheshire and that *was* planned."
Hal now was nonplussed himself. "Lian's rather mature for her age, isn't she?" he finally commented.
Mia snickered, handing a napkin wrapped doughnut to Ollie. "Connor says she has an old soul."
Hal glanced thoughtfully at the silhouette of the pig-tailed little girl hugging a pink monkey stuffed toy raptly watching cartoons in the den room just off the kitchen. "Yes, yes I can see where he could say she's an old soul. Fits her very well indeed."
"I'm wagering this plan of Roy's was her idea," Mia continued, now handing Dinah and Hal doughnuts each. She settled in front of her giant glass of milk and tapped the side pensively. "Lian's smart as a cookie about stuff like this and she can read Roy's moods and such pretty well."
Ollie quickly took up Mia's train of thought. "Yes, she does and she knows better than anyone that Roy will brood on something that bothers him unless he finds a way to either satisfy his curiousity or actively tries to make the problem a non-issue. Look at how he made the Outsiders."
"The Outsiders?"
Dinah sighed. "Yes, it was right after Donna was killed by the Superman Clone. Nightwing refused to be involved in anything or with anyone. The Titans disbanded as a traumatized mess. No one, not even Batman, could get Nightwing to come out of Bludhaven without the judicious use of blackmail or a crowbar. Roy had nothing to do, no one to be involved with and couldn't figure out how to bring Nightwing out of his funk."
"So he created the Outsiders?" asked Hal incredulously.
"Yep," nodded Ollie. "Apparently he told Nightwing that maybe the Titans were a mistake. Maybe the JLA's lack of familial feelings were the way to go. He put together the team and dangled being in charge of people Nightwing didn't think he could give more than the average damn about in front of his face. Nightwing's a born leader, he couldn't resist the lure. Roy knew it and used it against him. Solid strategy and it worked like a charm."
"Nightwing fell for it, hook, line and reluctant sinker," chuckle Dinah and drained the rest of her juice. "By the time he realized just how clever Roy was, he was in for the long haul, just like Roy anticipated. Nightwing's like Batman, he hates being manipulated."
"But unlike the Bat," Ollie interjected, "Nightwing knows when people do it for his own good and doesn't hold it against them for the next four lifetimes. He might even show his gratitude, a trait Bruce could learn from his protege."
Hal shook his head. "So now Roy's concocted another plan to save someone, this time a woman he thinks is his mother-"
"Knows," corrected Dinah softly.
"What?" Mia asked a bit sharper than she should have, but no one rebuked her.
"He knows she is his mother," Dinah repeated, trading a knowing looks with Ollie. "It was in his eyes. He knows she is. If he can save her, he's fine with that. If not, he's determined to bring her, and her organization, down. I've seen that look in his eyes many times before."
"When?" asked Hal in confusion.
Ollie sighed and got up to put his juice glass into the dish washer. "Everytime he sees or talks about Cheshire."
* * *
"Dia Duit." Aiofe froze for half a heartbeat at the unfamiliar voice and spun, her foot lashing out reflexively, defensively. It was blocked with equal skill and she fell back in shock at who spoke. "Conas ata tu?"
The young man's green eyes were the color of grass and his red hair was shorn short, but even with the military style she could tell it had an unruly edge to it not unlike her own. Her brain stuttered to a halt. He looked like Liam, even down to the way he stood with his feet shoulder width apart and his head tilted down like he was getting ready to charge like a belligerent bull. But his eyes...she was staring into her own eyes.
"Gabh mo leithsceal?" she stammered.
He smiled and her heart almost stopped. It was a heart-wrenching smile, guaranteed to make some woman's heart go pitter-patter a mite faster. "An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?" he teased.
She frowned. "Of course I speak Irish, ye arrogant whelp!" Then she started laughing. "You sound like a Munster-man."
He shrugged. "Probably because the guy who taught me was from Munster." He grinned. "Actually Colin was from County Clare and a good man. He used to teach me all the naughty words first and get in trouble with his wife."
Aiofe returned the smile; she couldn't help it. "You're like yer father, ye know," she murmured, sobering quickly.
He cocked his head consideringly to one side. "Not sure if that's a compliment or not, as I'm sure you have a very low opinion of him and what he did."
"On the contrary, he did a brave thing," Aiofe countered, "stupid but brave."
"Not blowing up children on school buses or the innocent shopper going in for some bread and milk is braver?" The young man strolled around, looking in a cabinet here or a shelf there of her cheap, rented apartment in Metropolis. It was a rathole that even the rats seemed to disdain but she wasn't supposed to live in luxury while on the job. "Palatial."
"Ye were expectin' the Metropolis Hilton?" she snapped. "Get out there, ye nosy git."
He slanted her a sly look probably very much like her own since she'd never seen that look on his father's face. "Or you'll do what exactly? If you were going to kill me, Aiofe, you would have done it by now." The words were a challenge, a taunt, and she knew it. She also knew it wasn't a bluff. He was testing her.
'He doesn't know!' she realized suddenly. 'At least not for certain, but he suspects.'
"Were ye wantin' something?" she asked briskly, going back to the stove where she started to put water on to boil for tea.
"Just checking out my adversary. I always like to know my opponent's weaknesses." He gave a low, scornful laugh that made her turn her head to look at him in surprise. "Wasn't expecting something quite so pathetic, to be honest, but when you've spent your entire life in the pursuit of something so pointless you lose sight of everything else, I guess you can't have garnered much to show for it."
She bristled at his words but didn't rise to the bait. Aiofe turned to face the young man as he prowled her one bedroom flat. It was the bedroom, bath, with living room and kitchen combined. It wasn't big, it was one step above a hellhole but it was better than some places she lived. For a brief moment she felt shame that her son would see her living like this.
"You consider us at odds with the other?" she asked, masking her shame with her usual cloak of irascibility. She turned off the water and made two cups of tea. He eyed her in askance as he took it, shaking his head at her offer of cream and sugar.
"I consider anyone who wants to blow up innocent people at odds with me," he replied, sipping his tea, grimacing at the bite. He put a cube of sugar in the tea and stirred. "Not a big fan of Lap Seng tea."
Aiofe shrugged. "I got used to drinking it in India."
"Mmm," was all the red head responded. "Are you my mother?"
Aiofe paused in her own sip of tea, their eyes meeting. "Depends," she said casually, setting her cup down, no longer in the mood for it. "Is your father William Harper of Ireland?"
"Yes."
"Was he member of-"
"Yes." His jaw hardened. "Stop playing games. I know I look like him, you know who I am if the security footage from the Hall of Justice gift shop was any indication. Are you my mother? I want to know for certain."
She looked away and swallowed. She was better at fighting than dissembling and she didn't think she could lie convincingly to this shrewd young man anyway. "Yes," she whispered.
Aiofe looked up and saw green eyes so like her own flash with pain and anguish. "Why?" he asked hoarsely. "Why?"
"Why what, boyo?" she asked softly.
His eyes kindled green fire. "Only one woman gets to call me 'boyo' and it isn't you," he spat. She flinched and then jerked her chin up defiantly. "That woman may not be my biological mother but by God she was more of a mother to me than you would ever be!"
"I never got the chance, William!" she shouted back, suddenly as enraged as him. "He stole you from me, in the night, like a thief."
"He didn't want to be a murderer!" he ground out. "Maybe you have no problem with murder but apparently he did."
She snorted. "You know nothing of him or me! Do not judge what you do not understand, mac."
"They call me Roy, not William." Roy eyed her skeptically, guzzled the rest of his steaming tea in one brisk move and set the cup in the sink next to her. "Good talking to you, very enlightening." He towered over her and she glared at him as he stared down at her pensively. "You make one move toward innocent civilians for whatever last ditch effort of stupidity Saorfaidh sibh Éire is planning and I will shoot you. I may not kill you but I will make it hurt for a very..long..time." He pugnaciously went nose to nose with her. He smelled of cologne and she could see the day's growth of peach fuzz on his chin and cheeks though he no doubt shaved just this morning. He also smelled of something else, something a mother never forgot the scent of...a child.
Her eyes widened and his narrowed as he realized she discovered something about him. Aiofe swallowed and looked away, shaken to the core. Could that child smell be a child of his own? Was she a grandmother? She desperately wanted to ask him but pride and fear of rebuff held her back.
"Are we clear?" he snapped.
She glared back up at him. "Most certainly, mac, but remember this. As dedicated to your cause as you are, I am to mine. If it puts us at odds, then it does."
An admiring grin flashed across his face a moment then he sobered. "I could take you in now, I suppose. You've got enough of a file that Interpol would be happy to have you now. We Americans call that a 'citizen's arrest'."
"It's a shame, then, that you aren't an American, isn't it?" Aiofe countered. "Yer an Irishman, born in Antrim, baptized in the church following the traditions of our homeland."
Roy stiffened. "I have an American citizenship, no matter where I was born. I was raised among the Navajo of Arizona and am proud to say I am Diné first, bela'gonna second no matter my blood heritage. No matter your words or deeds, you will *never* take that away from me." He stalked to the door and hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. "You are my biological mother, so I give this one warning. Whatever you are scheming, stop it. I won't beg and I won't ask again. I will consider you the same threat level as the mother of my child, a terrorist, a mass murderer and a pyschotic fruitloop better off in a deep hole than walking among innocent people." Roy gave her a hard look. "Don't ask for, as you will not receive, any quarter."
"I won't ask, mac," Aiofe responded, chin hiked defiantly, her own green eyes flashing dangerously. He slammed out the door, causing the grimy mutt next door to start barking manically. She threw her tea mug against the cheap plaster walls and sank to the floor to stare blankly at the shattered remains. Her son was alive, she had a grandchild and she never felt more alone than in this very moment.
* * *
'That could have gone better,' Roy thought grimly. As soon as he left his mother's ratty building, he darted into an alley next door and scaled the building to the roof. From there he jogged and leaped roof to roof, scaled down another, casually unlocked his SUV and climbed in. Hands shaking with a dearth of emotion, Roy started the vehicle and drove away, keeping a close eye for any tails or other suspicious automobiles.
"She called me 'mac'," he whispered to himself.
"What?" came the tinny voice over his hidden commlink in his jacket.
"I said she called me 'mac'," Roy repeated louder. He almost forgot that Oliver and Nightwing had been following the exchange per his request.
"What does that mean?" asked Oliver almost peevishly.
"Son."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"I call you that and you try to throw a punch at me," groused Ollie finally in a bid to lighten the mood. "You think labor pains gives her the same right?"
Roy and Nightwing laughed. "But only the labor pains, old man," Roy rejoined. "I'm gonna go off comm for a bit, hit up some contacts you two have no business knowing about. Look for me back on comm in two hours. If I don't come back on, send a search party and start at my loving maternal unit's place."
"You think she's going to stay there?" asked Nightwing skeptically.
"Oh yeah. She'll stay there, unless something changes," Roy stated with soft certainty. "Where else is she gonna go that I can't find her?"
"Your playbook," Nightwing said after another uncomfortable silence. "We play it your way."
Roy flicked off the commlink and almost threw it in the vehicle ashtray, but he left it in his jacket. It would serve his dam right to have the entire Justice League and Titans busting through her door when he didn't check in but he wouldn't do it. Despite the eye opener of what exactly Saorfaidh sibh Éire was up against if they should meet the JLA and Titans and other costumed heroes face to face, he had a feeling that his mother knew her fellows were way out of their depth but was at a loss as to how to get them, and herself, out of it with face saved.
He snorted derisively, both at his thoughts and the tail he picked up as he passed a branch office of The Daily Planet. "A bit obvious, aren't we, boys?" he murmured outloud. He made a casual right, then a left, then another right, winding his way around Centennial park and heading toward Suicide Slums and the dockyards there. Undoubtedly whatever these fanatics were up to, the goods were being stored at some dockside warehouse. Or had been. Either way, him heading in that direction to snoop was probably raising their blood pressure a bit. Apparently there was no need to call in a few favors after all.
Roy parked his rental SUV in a parking garage two blocks from one of Steel Industries' plants, billowing smoke and residue from the heavy factory into the blue skies of Metropolis. Roy watched the black cloud float lazily and dissipate. John Irons had been working on a way to process his steelwork manufacturing with less air pollution in mind, but confessed that sometimes it was difficult to do.
The red head smiled to himself. John Irons, better known to most of the world as Steel, would be very interested to know that terrorists intent on blowing up the Hall of Justice were housing their equipment not far from his facilities.
Roy checked his weapons. Automatic pistol in underarm holster, check. Knives concealed in various spots about his person, check. Cache of shiriken, check. Smoke and flash pellets manufactured for use by Batman and personally handed to him by Batman, check. Photo of Lian in his inside jacket pocket, check. Lian went everywhere with him, in person or in photo. She was the reason he continued to do this after all and the reason he always fought so hard to come home.
His vehicle tail transformed into two men and a woman. The men were muscled but not tall. One had more freckles than Roy ever saw on a human being and cherry auburn hair that could not be natural. The other was dark-haired and dark eyed with a hard face and unsmiling countenance that would have impressed Batman. The woman was even smaller, but nimble and alert. Her nondescript blue eyes and even mousier brown hair lent her an air of being a nobody but her body language screamed that she was somebody.
Roy decided it was time to put on a show. Giving a quick glance around, he darted quickly in between two buildings. The opening wasn't wide enough to be an alley but neither was the beat-up liquor store and the rather out of place palm readers parlor connected. He sidled beyond them onto a street more hole than pavement and made it across before a semi truck loaded with large pipes trundled by. He paused long enough for his followers to get a glimpse of him before he clambered up a fire escape and onto the roof of a run down tenement building. Staying close the edge where they could get tantalizing glimpses of him, he raced across and jumped to the adjoining housing unit. He was sliding down a water drain pipe when the three came barreling around the building, screeching to a halt to find him grinning at them as he landed neat as you please.
"Lose someone?" he asked before tossing them a "can't catch me" look and pounded across a busier but no less holey street toward the docks. Roy vaulted over a chain link fence that had seen better days and rounded the corner of an aluminum building only slightly newer than the fence. He heard their footsteps following him and decided it was time to lose the tail but give them enough to worry about that they would lead him where he needed to go.
Roy darted around a few more buildings and then found himself on the docks' hard wood planks. With the ease of a man trained by a genuine circus acrobat and a native of Atlantis, Roy flipped himself beneath the dock, holding on by his finger tips long enough to not fall into the brackish water as he slipped onto the dock support beams as silently as possible. It wasn't easy and for a moment he didn't think it worked. Footsteps drummed a tatto on the planks above and the sound of a boat being unloaded by longshoreman nearby covered any noise he may have made.
He made his way to the other side of that arm of the dock, all but crawling from beam to beam and almost slipping once. He heaved himself up using a triangular support beam until he could peek over the edge to find his 'companions'. They were far enough away that he couldn't make out what they were saying but they were sufficiently agitated.
They strode away before dock security got suspicious and Roy followed them with his eyes until they got far enough away that he could climb up. Roy carefully went where they did, tailing them with a lot more stealth than they had him. Soon they led him to a large warehouse in an unused portion of the docks with a faded Waynetech logo on it.
Batman was going to be displeased.
He watched them enter, the office door closing behind them. He turned on his commlink and whispered jauntily, "Paging Nightwing, paging Nightwing, the Big Bad Bat is going to have a conniption fit on where our lovely terrorists are hiding their goods and themselves."
"Are you at the docks in Suicide Slums?" Nightwing's tinny voice over the line was curious.
"Yep! And not only that but it's the old warehouses with a large corporate logo declaring it the domain of Waynetech," Roy reported with relish.
"You're right. He's gonna be miffed." Nightwing didn't seem concerned by his mentor's reaction. "But it will give us the perfect excuse to get in there."
"Better hurry," Roy told him. "They know I'm in the vicinity and -" The screech of tires and the flutter of capes on the breeze alerted Roy that he wasn't alone.
He looked up and into the chiseled jaw and blue eyes of Superman, the original Man of Steel. Beside him was the steel-plated body of Suicide Slum's largest employer and personal savior, Steel. Behind them in the distance were three cars with flashing lights and two vans of officers from the Special Crimes Unit of the Metropolis Police Department.
Roy's grin got bigger. This was gonna be good.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A quick lesson in Gaelic by someone who doesn't know the language but knows people who do...sorta. Remember, the Saxons took all the good consonants and made the Welsh and Scottish fight over the leftovers. Anything they didn't want got tossed to the Irish, who went "what the hell...let's eff up their heads a bit then".
Dia Duit (pronounced roughly dj-eye-ah gwich but it's not a hard 'tch' more like the 'sch')-essentially 'hello', 'good day', or similar greeting. Dia is also a form of the word 'god'...not sure how that fits in. I always heard it as 'hello' or 'greetings'.
Conas ata tu? (pronounced koh-nas at tu)-essentially "how are you?"-why the second 'a' in ata is silent is for the same reason the 'd' in duit is a gw sound...because it makes everyone go "huh?"
Gabh mo leithsceal (pronounced "gaw maw lek-shale")-"Excuse me?"-I actually Googled on this one so it's probably wrong somewhere, somehow.
An bhfuil Gaeilge agat? (pronounced "on wil gwayl-ih-ga ah-gut" or "ohn weel gwayl-eh-gah ah-goot" depending on the area I think or how you hear it )-"Do you speak Irish?" And yes that's a "w" sound for the bhf...see? I told you the Irish took the left overs and effed with everyone's heads. It's revenge for centuries of invasions. I think they're entitled.
"mac" (pronounced the way we do in front of a last name like MacDonald "mak")-'son'-this is actually just Gaelic everywhere. Fitz is more formal and usually associated with a non-legitimate line thanks to the Normans and later English rulers...FitzHerbert, FitzWilliam, etc. However, this is not always the case. Like "mac", it merely means 'son of'. Legitimacy is notwithstanding.
"Black Canary, may I speak with you a moment?" Dinah turned in surprise to find Red Arrow confronting her. He wore his full suit, complete with mask and quiver, projecting a professional mien, instead of their normal cozy relationship. She was on instant alert. Roy in business mode was unpredictable.
"Yes, Red Arrow, a moment, if you please," she replied, turning back to Dr. Mid-Nite, who was looking politely curious. "I'll pass the word on to Zatanna for you, Pieter. Hopefully she can find something to help with that."
Mid-Nite smiled amiably at her response, nodded deferentially to Roy and sauntered out the door. Dinah took a deep breath and assumed the professional air that Roy was obviously wanting from her. "What can I do for you, Red Arrow?"
"Permission to take a leave of absence from the JLA."
Canary blinked once at the bluntness of the request. "Duration?"
"Undetermined." Overly professional, Dinah thought quickly, he's hiding something.
"May I ask why?"
"No."
Dinah frowned at him as a thought occurred to her. "Roy, I hope you aren't planning to do what I think you're planning on doing."
Roy's jaw tightened. "And you think I'm going to do...?" He let the sentence trail off.
"Find her?" suggested Canary, knowing that Roy would have no trouble figure out what 'her' Dinah was referring too. "Talk to her. I don't know," Dinah shrugged helplessly, "save her?"
"Yes, yes, if she'll let me." Roy turned around to leave. "If not, lie to her face long enough to find out what they are specifically planning to do."
Roy was a maverick, sometimes a loner, and oftentimes a pain in everyone's ass as he went to Hell in his own fashion. Not often, though, did Roy completely make Dinah speechless. Irritated, amused, confused or just plain pissed off...but stunned speechless....rarely.
"Are you mad?" she finally managed to say.
Roy turned to her, his eyes behind the domino mask's lenses burning with a strange green fire. "All of you may have doubts, but I don't. That woman is my mother. She fucked my father, carried me for nine months and birthed me." Dinah winced at the crude language. "I deserve to at least meet her outside prison walls just once."
"But as Red Arrow?" Dinah gestured helplessly. "Honey, no. It'll make you a bigger target to her organization."
Roy gave Dinah a scornful look. "I'm not stupid, Dinah. Of course I'm not going dressed as Red Arrow. I'm formally requesting to be off the JLA roster until I sort this out. For once, I'm being professional and stepping away from something I'm too close to. What I do on my own time is my own business." He gave her a sly look. "And if I find out anything useful, of course, I'll be sure to tip the good guys."
Dinah opened her mouth to continue to protest when she snapped it closed at another thought that popped into her head. "You aren't here for that. You wouldn't ask my permission for this, you'd just go and suffer the consequences later." Roy gave her a polite, inquiring look, confirming her suspicions. "You're curious as to my reaction about her." Roy's face went stony but the brief shift in weight as he forced himself not to take a wary step back from her possible ire cemented it. "You think I'll be jealous or resentful of her. You want to see what I think without having to ask me."
There was a tense moment of suspense before Roy grimaced. "Yes."
Dinah blinked back the sting of tears as she approached the young man she held in her arms as he screamed out the pain of withdrawal, showed her his baby daughter with a mixture of pride and shame on his face, and teased her out of her own black moods and dark funks with his devil may care grins and laughing green eyes. She cupped his close-shaven, chiseled jaw a moment before punching him lightly in the abdomen. "You idiot. I love you, but you hang around Ollie too much."
Roy eyed her warily, slightly bent from her punch. She smirked at him. He wasn't going to ask, but he didn't need too.
"Of course I'm not jealous. I knew you had a mother, where she was in the world was irrelevant to me, still is in some ways." Dinah drew herself up proudly. "I'm the woman who loves you like a mother. I'm the one your daughter considers her grandmother."
"She calls you Auntie," Roy interrupted.
Dinah shot him a 'shush, I'm making a point here' look. "I'm the one you come running to whenever you get in over your head."
"I do not!"
"Well, I should be," sniffed Dinah in a motherly fashion. "I do all the stuff that counts. What did she do?"
"Screamed in pain for up to 12 hours birthing me?" Roy suggested, flashing her a cheeky grin and dodging her playful swat.
"Brat. And I get to call you a brat. Even Oliver doesn't do that."
"No," Roy conceded, "you are the only one who gets away with calling me 'boyo'."
Dinah gave him a fond look and patted his cheek. "That's because you're my boyo, boyo. Begone with you. I expect that if you get in over your head-"
"I'll call Nightwing like I always do." Roy finished for her hurriedly. He ducked, dodged and beat a hasty retreat from her flying fist and fish-net clad left leg. As the door slid shut behind him, he heard her reluctant chuckle.
"Who ya gonna call?" Roy chanted in a similar fashion to The Ghostbusters theme, "Black Canary!"
* * *
"You let him do what?" exploded Ollie, slamming his palms down onto the kitchen table with such force that the oak platform actually shuddered in protest. Dinah said nothing, but slid a glance at Hal, who was equally appalled.
"He was going to anyway. Better he asked first rather than begged for forgiveness later," she defended.
"That woman will eat him for breakfast!" Ollie shouted, the vein in his forehead throbbing.
Dinah had enough. "Oddly enough, he's an adult and can make his own decisions. Shocking, huh?"
Ollie opened his mouth, let it hang like that a moment and then snapped it closed. "Explains why Lian landed in the middle of our bed this morning at 6:30, demanding cereal and cartoons."
Dinah gave Oliver an innocent look. She had early morning monitor duty but clued Mia in to Lian's imminent arrival. Mia winked at Dinah, who winked back. Ollie caught the exchange and turned to Hal. "It's a conspiracy, I tell you, a conspiracy."
"Grassy knoll, Ollie," soothed Mia insincerely, "grassy knoll." Ollie shot her a disgruntled look. "So did he have a plan, or is this the usual Arrow family fly by the seat of the pants and hope everyone comes out relatively intact sort of plan?" the young woman asked, pouring cranberry juice into a glass and handing to Dinah.
Dinah sipped the red juice. "I'd say the latter but something about the look on his face makes me think he's actually got a plan." Dinah paused. "I think that's more alarming, actually."
"My daddy has brilliant plans," Lian informed everyone in the kitchen as she sauntered in to snatch a doughnut from the box that Hal brought over earlier.
"Name one," countered Ollie morosely.
"He got me," Lian announced on her way out.
"I don't think that was planned," noted Hal with amusement at Ollie's nonplussed expression. "Fairly certain it wasn't in fact."
"She wasn't referring to her birth," Dinah said with a slow smile. "She was referring to her daddy taking her away from Cheshire and that *was* planned."
Hal now was nonplussed himself. "Lian's rather mature for her age, isn't she?" he finally commented.
Mia snickered, handing a napkin wrapped doughnut to Ollie. "Connor says she has an old soul."
Hal glanced thoughtfully at the silhouette of the pig-tailed little girl hugging a pink monkey stuffed toy raptly watching cartoons in the den room just off the kitchen. "Yes, yes I can see where he could say she's an old soul. Fits her very well indeed."
"I'm wagering this plan of Roy's was her idea," Mia continued, now handing Dinah and Hal doughnuts each. She settled in front of her giant glass of milk and tapped the side pensively. "Lian's smart as a cookie about stuff like this and she can read Roy's moods and such pretty well."
Ollie quickly took up Mia's train of thought. "Yes, she does and she knows better than anyone that Roy will brood on something that bothers him unless he finds a way to either satisfy his curiousity or actively tries to make the problem a non-issue. Look at how he made the Outsiders."
"The Outsiders?"
Dinah sighed. "Yes, it was right after Donna was killed by the Superman Clone. Nightwing refused to be involved in anything or with anyone. The Titans disbanded as a traumatized mess. No one, not even Batman, could get Nightwing to come out of Bludhaven without the judicious use of blackmail or a crowbar. Roy had nothing to do, no one to be involved with and couldn't figure out how to bring Nightwing out of his funk."
"So he created the Outsiders?" asked Hal incredulously.
"Yep," nodded Ollie. "Apparently he told Nightwing that maybe the Titans were a mistake. Maybe the JLA's lack of familial feelings were the way to go. He put together the team and dangled being in charge of people Nightwing didn't think he could give more than the average damn about in front of his face. Nightwing's a born leader, he couldn't resist the lure. Roy knew it and used it against him. Solid strategy and it worked like a charm."
"Nightwing fell for it, hook, line and reluctant sinker," chuckle Dinah and drained the rest of her juice. "By the time he realized just how clever Roy was, he was in for the long haul, just like Roy anticipated. Nightwing's like Batman, he hates being manipulated."
"But unlike the Bat," Ollie interjected, "Nightwing knows when people do it for his own good and doesn't hold it against them for the next four lifetimes. He might even show his gratitude, a trait Bruce could learn from his protege."
Hal shook his head. "So now Roy's concocted another plan to save someone, this time a woman he thinks is his mother-"
"Knows," corrected Dinah softly.
"What?" Mia asked a bit sharper than she should have, but no one rebuked her.
"He knows she is his mother," Dinah repeated, trading a knowing looks with Ollie. "It was in his eyes. He knows she is. If he can save her, he's fine with that. If not, he's determined to bring her, and her organization, down. I've seen that look in his eyes many times before."
"When?" asked Hal in confusion.
Ollie sighed and got up to put his juice glass into the dish washer. "Everytime he sees or talks about Cheshire."
* * *
"Dia Duit." Aiofe froze for half a heartbeat at the unfamiliar voice and spun, her foot lashing out reflexively, defensively. It was blocked with equal skill and she fell back in shock at who spoke. "Conas ata tu?"
The young man's green eyes were the color of grass and his red hair was shorn short, but even with the military style she could tell it had an unruly edge to it not unlike her own. Her brain stuttered to a halt. He looked like Liam, even down to the way he stood with his feet shoulder width apart and his head tilted down like he was getting ready to charge like a belligerent bull. But his eyes...she was staring into her own eyes.
"Gabh mo leithsceal?" she stammered.
He smiled and her heart almost stopped. It was a heart-wrenching smile, guaranteed to make some woman's heart go pitter-patter a mite faster. "An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?" he teased.
She frowned. "Of course I speak Irish, ye arrogant whelp!" Then she started laughing. "You sound like a Munster-man."
He shrugged. "Probably because the guy who taught me was from Munster." He grinned. "Actually Colin was from County Clare and a good man. He used to teach me all the naughty words first and get in trouble with his wife."
Aiofe returned the smile; she couldn't help it. "You're like yer father, ye know," she murmured, sobering quickly.
He cocked his head consideringly to one side. "Not sure if that's a compliment or not, as I'm sure you have a very low opinion of him and what he did."
"On the contrary, he did a brave thing," Aiofe countered, "stupid but brave."
"Not blowing up children on school buses or the innocent shopper going in for some bread and milk is braver?" The young man strolled around, looking in a cabinet here or a shelf there of her cheap, rented apartment in Metropolis. It was a rathole that even the rats seemed to disdain but she wasn't supposed to live in luxury while on the job. "Palatial."
"Ye were expectin' the Metropolis Hilton?" she snapped. "Get out there, ye nosy git."
He slanted her a sly look probably very much like her own since she'd never seen that look on his father's face. "Or you'll do what exactly? If you were going to kill me, Aiofe, you would have done it by now." The words were a challenge, a taunt, and she knew it. She also knew it wasn't a bluff. He was testing her.
'He doesn't know!' she realized suddenly. 'At least not for certain, but he suspects.'
"Were ye wantin' something?" she asked briskly, going back to the stove where she started to put water on to boil for tea.
"Just checking out my adversary. I always like to know my opponent's weaknesses." He gave a low, scornful laugh that made her turn her head to look at him in surprise. "Wasn't expecting something quite so pathetic, to be honest, but when you've spent your entire life in the pursuit of something so pointless you lose sight of everything else, I guess you can't have garnered much to show for it."
She bristled at his words but didn't rise to the bait. Aiofe turned to face the young man as he prowled her one bedroom flat. It was the bedroom, bath, with living room and kitchen combined. It wasn't big, it was one step above a hellhole but it was better than some places she lived. For a brief moment she felt shame that her son would see her living like this.
"You consider us at odds with the other?" she asked, masking her shame with her usual cloak of irascibility. She turned off the water and made two cups of tea. He eyed her in askance as he took it, shaking his head at her offer of cream and sugar.
"I consider anyone who wants to blow up innocent people at odds with me," he replied, sipping his tea, grimacing at the bite. He put a cube of sugar in the tea and stirred. "Not a big fan of Lap Seng tea."
Aiofe shrugged. "I got used to drinking it in India."
"Mmm," was all the red head responded. "Are you my mother?"
Aiofe paused in her own sip of tea, their eyes meeting. "Depends," she said casually, setting her cup down, no longer in the mood for it. "Is your father William Harper of Ireland?"
"Yes."
"Was he member of-"
"Yes." His jaw hardened. "Stop playing games. I know I look like him, you know who I am if the security footage from the Hall of Justice gift shop was any indication. Are you my mother? I want to know for certain."
She looked away and swallowed. She was better at fighting than dissembling and she didn't think she could lie convincingly to this shrewd young man anyway. "Yes," she whispered.
Aiofe looked up and saw green eyes so like her own flash with pain and anguish. "Why?" he asked hoarsely. "Why?"
"Why what, boyo?" she asked softly.
His eyes kindled green fire. "Only one woman gets to call me 'boyo' and it isn't you," he spat. She flinched and then jerked her chin up defiantly. "That woman may not be my biological mother but by God she was more of a mother to me than you would ever be!"
"I never got the chance, William!" she shouted back, suddenly as enraged as him. "He stole you from me, in the night, like a thief."
"He didn't want to be a murderer!" he ground out. "Maybe you have no problem with murder but apparently he did."
She snorted. "You know nothing of him or me! Do not judge what you do not understand, mac."
"They call me Roy, not William." Roy eyed her skeptically, guzzled the rest of his steaming tea in one brisk move and set the cup in the sink next to her. "Good talking to you, very enlightening." He towered over her and she glared at him as he stared down at her pensively. "You make one move toward innocent civilians for whatever last ditch effort of stupidity Saorfaidh sibh Éire is planning and I will shoot you. I may not kill you but I will make it hurt for a very..long..time." He pugnaciously went nose to nose with her. He smelled of cologne and she could see the day's growth of peach fuzz on his chin and cheeks though he no doubt shaved just this morning. He also smelled of something else, something a mother never forgot the scent of...a child.
Her eyes widened and his narrowed as he realized she discovered something about him. Aiofe swallowed and looked away, shaken to the core. Could that child smell be a child of his own? Was she a grandmother? She desperately wanted to ask him but pride and fear of rebuff held her back.
"Are we clear?" he snapped.
She glared back up at him. "Most certainly, mac, but remember this. As dedicated to your cause as you are, I am to mine. If it puts us at odds, then it does."
An admiring grin flashed across his face a moment then he sobered. "I could take you in now, I suppose. You've got enough of a file that Interpol would be happy to have you now. We Americans call that a 'citizen's arrest'."
"It's a shame, then, that you aren't an American, isn't it?" Aiofe countered. "Yer an Irishman, born in Antrim, baptized in the church following the traditions of our homeland."
Roy stiffened. "I have an American citizenship, no matter where I was born. I was raised among the Navajo of Arizona and am proud to say I am Diné first, bela'gonna second no matter my blood heritage. No matter your words or deeds, you will *never* take that away from me." He stalked to the door and hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. "You are my biological mother, so I give this one warning. Whatever you are scheming, stop it. I won't beg and I won't ask again. I will consider you the same threat level as the mother of my child, a terrorist, a mass murderer and a pyschotic fruitloop better off in a deep hole than walking among innocent people." Roy gave her a hard look. "Don't ask for, as you will not receive, any quarter."
"I won't ask, mac," Aiofe responded, chin hiked defiantly, her own green eyes flashing dangerously. He slammed out the door, causing the grimy mutt next door to start barking manically. She threw her tea mug against the cheap plaster walls and sank to the floor to stare blankly at the shattered remains. Her son was alive, she had a grandchild and she never felt more alone than in this very moment.
* * *
'That could have gone better,' Roy thought grimly. As soon as he left his mother's ratty building, he darted into an alley next door and scaled the building to the roof. From there he jogged and leaped roof to roof, scaled down another, casually unlocked his SUV and climbed in. Hands shaking with a dearth of emotion, Roy started the vehicle and drove away, keeping a close eye for any tails or other suspicious automobiles.
"She called me 'mac'," he whispered to himself.
"What?" came the tinny voice over his hidden commlink in his jacket.
"I said she called me 'mac'," Roy repeated louder. He almost forgot that Oliver and Nightwing had been following the exchange per his request.
"What does that mean?" asked Oliver almost peevishly.
"Son."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"I call you that and you try to throw a punch at me," groused Ollie finally in a bid to lighten the mood. "You think labor pains gives her the same right?"
Roy and Nightwing laughed. "But only the labor pains, old man," Roy rejoined. "I'm gonna go off comm for a bit, hit up some contacts you two have no business knowing about. Look for me back on comm in two hours. If I don't come back on, send a search party and start at my loving maternal unit's place."
"You think she's going to stay there?" asked Nightwing skeptically.
"Oh yeah. She'll stay there, unless something changes," Roy stated with soft certainty. "Where else is she gonna go that I can't find her?"
"Your playbook," Nightwing said after another uncomfortable silence. "We play it your way."
Roy flicked off the commlink and almost threw it in the vehicle ashtray, but he left it in his jacket. It would serve his dam right to have the entire Justice League and Titans busting through her door when he didn't check in but he wouldn't do it. Despite the eye opener of what exactly Saorfaidh sibh Éire was up against if they should meet the JLA and Titans and other costumed heroes face to face, he had a feeling that his mother knew her fellows were way out of their depth but was at a loss as to how to get them, and herself, out of it with face saved.
He snorted derisively, both at his thoughts and the tail he picked up as he passed a branch office of The Daily Planet. "A bit obvious, aren't we, boys?" he murmured outloud. He made a casual right, then a left, then another right, winding his way around Centennial park and heading toward Suicide Slums and the dockyards there. Undoubtedly whatever these fanatics were up to, the goods were being stored at some dockside warehouse. Or had been. Either way, him heading in that direction to snoop was probably raising their blood pressure a bit. Apparently there was no need to call in a few favors after all.
Roy parked his rental SUV in a parking garage two blocks from one of Steel Industries' plants, billowing smoke and residue from the heavy factory into the blue skies of Metropolis. Roy watched the black cloud float lazily and dissipate. John Irons had been working on a way to process his steelwork manufacturing with less air pollution in mind, but confessed that sometimes it was difficult to do.
The red head smiled to himself. John Irons, better known to most of the world as Steel, would be very interested to know that terrorists intent on blowing up the Hall of Justice were housing their equipment not far from his facilities.
Roy checked his weapons. Automatic pistol in underarm holster, check. Knives concealed in various spots about his person, check. Cache of shiriken, check. Smoke and flash pellets manufactured for use by Batman and personally handed to him by Batman, check. Photo of Lian in his inside jacket pocket, check. Lian went everywhere with him, in person or in photo. She was the reason he continued to do this after all and the reason he always fought so hard to come home.
His vehicle tail transformed into two men and a woman. The men were muscled but not tall. One had more freckles than Roy ever saw on a human being and cherry auburn hair that could not be natural. The other was dark-haired and dark eyed with a hard face and unsmiling countenance that would have impressed Batman. The woman was even smaller, but nimble and alert. Her nondescript blue eyes and even mousier brown hair lent her an air of being a nobody but her body language screamed that she was somebody.
Roy decided it was time to put on a show. Giving a quick glance around, he darted quickly in between two buildings. The opening wasn't wide enough to be an alley but neither was the beat-up liquor store and the rather out of place palm readers parlor connected. He sidled beyond them onto a street more hole than pavement and made it across before a semi truck loaded with large pipes trundled by. He paused long enough for his followers to get a glimpse of him before he clambered up a fire escape and onto the roof of a run down tenement building. Staying close the edge where they could get tantalizing glimpses of him, he raced across and jumped to the adjoining housing unit. He was sliding down a water drain pipe when the three came barreling around the building, screeching to a halt to find him grinning at them as he landed neat as you please.
"Lose someone?" he asked before tossing them a "can't catch me" look and pounded across a busier but no less holey street toward the docks. Roy vaulted over a chain link fence that had seen better days and rounded the corner of an aluminum building only slightly newer than the fence. He heard their footsteps following him and decided it was time to lose the tail but give them enough to worry about that they would lead him where he needed to go.
Roy darted around a few more buildings and then found himself on the docks' hard wood planks. With the ease of a man trained by a genuine circus acrobat and a native of Atlantis, Roy flipped himself beneath the dock, holding on by his finger tips long enough to not fall into the brackish water as he slipped onto the dock support beams as silently as possible. It wasn't easy and for a moment he didn't think it worked. Footsteps drummed a tatto on the planks above and the sound of a boat being unloaded by longshoreman nearby covered any noise he may have made.
He made his way to the other side of that arm of the dock, all but crawling from beam to beam and almost slipping once. He heaved himself up using a triangular support beam until he could peek over the edge to find his 'companions'. They were far enough away that he couldn't make out what they were saying but they were sufficiently agitated.
They strode away before dock security got suspicious and Roy followed them with his eyes until they got far enough away that he could climb up. Roy carefully went where they did, tailing them with a lot more stealth than they had him. Soon they led him to a large warehouse in an unused portion of the docks with a faded Waynetech logo on it.
Batman was going to be displeased.
He watched them enter, the office door closing behind them. He turned on his commlink and whispered jauntily, "Paging Nightwing, paging Nightwing, the Big Bad Bat is going to have a conniption fit on where our lovely terrorists are hiding their goods and themselves."
"Are you at the docks in Suicide Slums?" Nightwing's tinny voice over the line was curious.
"Yep! And not only that but it's the old warehouses with a large corporate logo declaring it the domain of Waynetech," Roy reported with relish.
"You're right. He's gonna be miffed." Nightwing didn't seem concerned by his mentor's reaction. "But it will give us the perfect excuse to get in there."
"Better hurry," Roy told him. "They know I'm in the vicinity and -" The screech of tires and the flutter of capes on the breeze alerted Roy that he wasn't alone.
He looked up and into the chiseled jaw and blue eyes of Superman, the original Man of Steel. Beside him was the steel-plated body of Suicide Slum's largest employer and personal savior, Steel. Behind them in the distance were three cars with flashing lights and two vans of officers from the Special Crimes Unit of the Metropolis Police Department.
Roy's grin got bigger. This was gonna be good.