If growing up in Gotham taught her anything, it was that there was always a moment of calm before a storm hit. Rayalearned to appreciate the all-too-brief respites. They gave her a chance to gather her thoughts and to plan for whatever might come next.

This time, however, the lull only intensified her agitation. Her nerves tingled with anticipation. Her belly cramped with that familiar mix of anxiety and dread.

My Bat-senses are in overdrive because of everything going on, she thought as she watched Jordan build a fort out of some blocks. I know something is coming, I know the Joker is behind it, but I don't know what it is, when it will happen, where it might occur or even how he plans on going about whatever it is he's got planned.

The only thing she knew with one hundred percent certainty was the why.

Not that why wasn't hard to figure out.

Why with the Joker was always the easiest part of the problem to figure out.

Raya poured herself a cup of tea, got out a pad of paper and a pencil and sat down in Negan's chair. An hour is all I need. An hour of quiet, where she could settle down, make some lists, form her theories and thoughts into some semblance of coherency. Then maybe she wouldn't be so jumpy.

It was a lie, of course, but it allowed her to draw her first decent breath since waking that morning. She started by scratching out the most relevant facts as they occurred to her, adding drawings to further illustrate what she saw as she examined the boy's bodies, and making side notations that explained how it all tied back to key moments where the Joker caused similar injuries to other people.

Other people being Ethan and Jason.

It would have been Paul had I not found him before the Joker returned to finish the job, she thought as her mind drifted again to a Halloween from long, long ago.

...

As soon as the Clown Prince disappeared around the side of the building, she scrambled over a pile of garbage and other debris to race to the boy. He blinked his non-blackened eye wide when as he spied her and began to make excited utterances behind the filthy rag stuffed in his mouth.

"Sh." She knelt beside him. "We must be very quiet. The Joker is still nearby."

He mumbled something she couldn't make out and began to thrash back and forth.

"It's okay," she said as she undid the ropes around his small ankles and wrists. "The Joker won't hurt you anymore." She pulled the rag from his mouth and tossed it away. "I promise."

"Wh-who are you?" he asked in a small, tremulous voice. "How did you find me?"

Time was of the essence. She needed to get him somewhere safe before coming back to help Batman and Robin with stopping whatever festivities the Joker had concocted for the evening. However, she spared a moment to reply to his questions.

"I'm Fenix."

"Fenix?" Awe tinged his voice. "You work for Batman?"

"I do, yes." She dropped her voice an octave. A conspirator's tone. "My best friend is Robin."

"He is?"

"Mhm." She rose to her feet and held out a gloved hand to him. "Shall we be away, Mr...?"

She left the question to dangle purposely. It was a technique she learned from her uncle, James Gordon. Interrogating without seeming to interrogate. Acquiring facts without seeming overly invested in the information. It lulled people into a false sense of security and caused them to either slip-up or reveal what they might not have otherwise.

"Paul," he replied automatically. "Paul Rovia." He set one of his hands in hers and allowed her to pull him up to his feet. "The people at the orphanage call me Jesus, though."

"And why do they call you Jesus?"

His thin shoulders lifted into a faint shrug. "'Cause I'm always saving the littler boys from the bigger ones who like to pick on 'em."

The words were uttered low, forcefully. A look at his face showed a quiet rage simmering in the depths of his blue-green eyes. So, she mused as she adjusted his cape. That's why he chose to dress as Robin. He wants to protect the small and helpless from the monsters.

She could relate to that.

It's why she chose to become Fenix.

"Well, it sounds to me like you're a superhero in training, Mr. Rovia," she said as she reached for the grapnel gun attached to her utility belt. "Because we're always saving people from the monsters in the dark."

"Like when Batman saved all those folks from the Scarecrow?"

"Yep." She sent him an easy smile. "Or like when Robin stopped a group of boys from beating up a smaller one just for being different."

"They pick on me 'cause I'm different."

"Well, after tonight, they'll know not to pick on you."

"Why?"

"Because I'll make sure they understand that if I hear about you being picked on that I will come after them."

"You will?"

"I have a particular soft spot for Robin's." She settled an arm around him. "Hold tightly to me now."

He curled his small arms around her waist without uttering a word. She fired a line at the ledge she perched on earlier. She felt the line go taut, knew it grabbed hold and counted the heartbeats before they were airborne.

...

Two, she recalled as she shook herself from her musings. There were two heartbeats before that line pulled us into the air.

Her life, as well as Paul's, changed forever that night. Raya didn't return Paul to the orphanage as she'd been instructed.

How could she when there was no orphanage left to return him too?

A mysterious fire earlier that evening had left the building a smoldering pile of wood and mortar. It hadn't taken many guesses to know the Joker set the fire as a precursor to what he had in store for Batman and Gotham.

Raya found herself in the same position Bruce found himself in with her. She needed a safe place Paul could stay while she helped with the Joker and his crew. So, much like Bruce, she called upon the only person she could think of to help: Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred brought Paul to Wayne Manor.

And when Bruce asked him why, the butler replied simply, "Because there is no better home for an orphaned Robin than here, Master Bruce."

Bruce never once argued with him about it, she realized as she heard someone outside the bedroom door.

Her back instantly went up.

Every Bat-sense came alive.

The hunted shifted into being the hunter.

There was any number of places the Joker could hide in a place as large as the Sanctuary. He is a master of disguise, she thought, relaxing when Negan came strolling in, whistling softly. He could remain undetected for months.

She needed to get more people inside the Savior's. Harper, Oliver and even Double Red can easily blend in with the men, she decided as Negan bent to talk with Jordan. And nobody will think twice of me bringing Krypto in as extra protection for Jordan and me.

She could, if needs be, also bring Robin in. I can even call Nightwing and Hood if I have no other choice.

She just wouldn't give the Joker what he most wanted. Won't call Batman here, you sick son of a bitch. You will have to kill my ass before I will ever give the order to call him.

"Whatever the fuck you're over there thinking," Negan said as he rose to his feet. "Fucking forget it."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking."

"I know you're thinking of going after this shithead by your fucking self." He perched on the edge of her chair. "And the answer is no."

"I will do what's necessary to protect you and Jordan from that clown."

"I said no, Fin." He slid his fingers to the back of her neck and slowly rubbed in slow, soothing circles. "You're not going after this fucking fuck alone."

"Fine," she said as some of her tension eased. "But I want your agreement on allowing some of my people to come here and search for him. They're trained in how to hunt down and deal with a man of the Joker's caliber."

"My men will handle this fuck when he shows up."

"They can't handle what they can't find, Negan."

Negan pondered that a moment.

"You think this fuck is here in the Sanctuary?"

"I think it's a very good possibility, yes." She lifted her eyes to his. "If not here then he's at one of your other outposts."

"Would explain how this fuck gets his hands on these kids," he said. "I just don't understand how a freak like that doesn't stick out like a priest in a whorehouse."

"You're dealing with someone who can blend into whatever environment he chooses."

"He'll fuck up and reveal his ass eventually."

"No, he won't." She set her notepad and pencil on the table. "That's what you're not getting. He won't simply screw up and reveal himself."

"That fucking so?" One eyebrow tilted. "And how do you know he won't?"

"Because I know how the Joker likes to play this game. He won't reveal himself until he's good and ready. It's all part of the fun."

"You telling me that this fucking fuck is getting off on this shit?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way," she said dryly. "But yes, in a sense, he is. And so long as he is enjoying himself he will continue to play this game."

"Meaning there will be more dead bodies and shit."

"Mhm."

"What happens when this fuck gets bored with this game of his?"

"You mean when he gets bored with leaving bodies on chain link fences?" She saw his nod. "Well, he will change the rules, up the ante, do whatever it takes to keep enjoying himself." Across her vision came the image of him in a pool of blood and his own brain matter. "It's all about the game with the Joker."

"And if that shit doesn't fucking work?"

"Then he will end it."

"And by end it..." His fingers twitched against her neck. The only clue about his emotional state. "You mean he will kill your cute lil' ass."

"He will try, yes," she told him honestly. "And if he can't kill me?" She reached back to take hold of his hand. "Then he will try to kill you."

"Let the fucking fuck come after me." His eyes went to where Lucille rest atop her pillows. "I might get what I fucking deserve, or he will meet Lucille. Either way, it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." She indicated Jordan with a nod of her head. "And to him. He's lost both his parents, his sister, and countless other family. All he has now is you and me."

A flash of vulnerability mixed with other, darker emotions appeared on his face. It vanished less than a second later. Rayaalmost believed she imagined it. However, there was an echo of raw grief and a guilt so deep that it overrode everything else that lingered in his eyes. Seeing it caused her stomach to ache. She hated to see anyone; anything in pain. Then it too was gone, leaving her wondering if she imagined the entire thing.

"You said this fucking fuck killed your husband the same way he killed those boys?"

"Yes, he did."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he swallowed and said, "Lucille... she died just as this shit got started. Inoperable brain tumor." He chuckled humorlessly. "Irony at its fucking finest."

"It's not irony," she corrected gently. "It's a tragedy that she died."

You wouldn't have gone so far over the edge if she hadn't died, she added silently. No, she had a feeling that Lucille would have stopped Negan before he became such a tyrant. She was his check and balances before I came along, she thought as he closed his eyes. More a long blink than anything. She made him toe the line.

As she now would.

"Her death..." His voice thrummed with pain. "It broke me."

"I can understand that." She slid her fingers between his. "I have carried the guilt of Ethan's death for all these years."

"Yeah?" He looked at her. "How long has it been since he died?"

"Sixteen years..." She frowned as she calculated the time in her head. "Give or take a few months."

"And you still blame yourself for it?"

"I always will blame myself for Ethan's death."

"Why?"

"Because if I was a better wife I'd have known my husband was in trouble and done something to save him." She stroked her thumb over his knuckles. "Sound familiar?"

"Yeah." He sighed softly. "Yeah, it does."

"I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. To stand at their grave and apologize for not being there for them. To tell them all the stuff you wished you told them when they were still alive."

"That's where you're wrong, baby doll."

"What am I wrong about?"

"I didn't even fucking bury Lucille."

Shock crashed over Raya at that revelation. That explains it, she realized as she stared at him. His guilt, his grief, the shock of losing his wife and watching her reanimate as a mindless drone... it all played a part in making him the man who was before her now.

"Only thing I have done since this shit started that I regret was leave my wife to rot on that hospital room floor."

"I thought you said she died right as the virus broke out?"

"She was in the hospital when the shit hit the fan." He got up and moved to the table where glasses and a bottle of whiskey sat but didn't reach for either. "Died the day it all went to hell."

"You saw her turn."

It wasn't a question and she didn't expect him to answer.

"Yeah," he surprised her by saying. "Shit, I couldn't even put her down after she turned, had to get some fucking kid to go back and do it. I didn't even watch him do it. Just couldn't bring myself to see her that way. It was like she was some kind of fucking abomination."

"Hey." She waited until he looked at her before continuing. "It's understandable that you couldn't handle seeing her like that. Not many people are able to view their loved ones after they're gone. You shouldn't beat yourself up about it. It was a purely human response to an impossible situation."

"Yeah." He reached for the bottle of whiskey but did not pour a glass. "I stayed in the area for a few weeks after, but I never went back to do the right thing. I just..." His shoulders bowed with the guilt weighing heavy on him. "I just couldn't see her like that. I couldn't put her in the ground. I couldn't put her to rest. So now she's a pile of dry bones rotting on a fucking floor. Because of me."

She got up and went to him. "I've seen more than my share of dead bodies." She set a hand on his back. "It doesn't get any easier and it's always the hardest when it's someone that you know and care about."

"Did you see your husband after what that fucking fuck did to him?"

"No."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "You didn't see his body?"

"No, I did not."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because like you, I couldn't bring myself to see him like that. To have that as my final memory of him."

Because I couldn't risk the stress causing me to lose the child that we desperately craved, she added silently. A child that neither Ethan nor the man who helped them achieve their wish would get a chance to meet because their lives got taken from them before he was born.

"How do you know that Dewey and the others were killed the same way?" He turned towards her. "If you didn't see his body, how do you know?"

"Because I read the medical examiner's report."

He accepted that with a nod. "You buried him, though. You made sure he was put in the fucking ground. That he was laid to fucking rest."

"We can do something to put her to rest." She took his hands in hers. "To give her the peace you feel you've denied her by not burying her."

"I named a stupid fucking baseball bat after her."

"So? I named my bow after Ethan."

"Get the fuck outta here." He cut a look at her. "You're fucking serious?"

"I'm perfectly serious." She waved towards where the bow hung on a peg with the quiver of arrows. "In a hidden compartment in my quiver is his badge and service revolver."

"You don't like guns."

"I don't," she said. "But I will use them if necessary." She just wouldn't shoot to kill. He already knew that, though. "They were his, though. And I keep them close to me because it makes me feel I still have a part of him here with me. Like you do with Lucile."

"Lucille meant everything to me. I didn't even know it at the time. Not all the time, anyway. There were moments, but for the most part... I was a piece of shit. It wasn't until she was gone that I really knew understood what she meant to me."

"Honor her now by being the kind of man she'd be proud of." She nodded her head towards where Jordan continued to play, oblivious to the conversation and to the monster lurking somewhere inside the Sanctuary's walls. "Teach him how to be a man in this world. Show him that we do not need to become monsters to survive."

He turned away, but not before Raya glimpsed the shadow of vulnerability that darkened his eyes.

"I can't do this shit alone, Fin. I can't. I need you to help me."

That admission, uttered in a low rasp, rocked her to the core. Negan didn't do vulnerable. He didn't admit needing anyone for anything other than base purposes. Yet, there he was and openly telling her that he couldn't move forward without her help.

"Then we'll do it together." She skimmed her fingers over the back of his arm. "God knows someone needs to keep you in line. Might as well be me."

He turned back, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "I thought I needed to get rid of my other wives before you'd fucking agree to become one?"

"Yeah, I think that ship is resting next to the Titanic on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean."

He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "About fucking time you came to your goddamn senses, baby doll."

"Well, one of us needs to be sensible..."

He snorted at that. "You're still the most unusual fucking woman I have ever met."

"Yeah?" She curled her arms around his waist. "And here I'm thinking that I'm the most unusual present you've ever received."

"You're the best present a sorry fucking shit like me has received."

"Keep telling you that I have a soft spot for sorry fucking shits."

"Yeah?" The gleam in his eyes had warning bells going off in her head. "Well, how about we mosey on over to the bed?" His lips stretched into that miles-wide smile that always turned her insides to goop. "We can play a round of mattress bingo."

Nothing if not consistent, she mused as she swallowed a laugh.

She wouldn't have him any other way.

"We have a kid in the room."

"Send him out to play with Fat Joey," he whispered in her ear as he ran a hand over her hip. "Mommy and Daddy need their alone time."

"Daddy needs a cold shower."

"C'mon, darlin'," he cajoled. "If I'm not ba..."

"Would you shut up and kiss me?"

"With fucking pleasure."

A/N: Hello, all, and goodbye!

This is the final (and I mean final this time) chapter in this story. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope that some of you will continue on with the next story in the series, Burn.

To all those who reviewed, followed and favorited, thank you! Your support has meant everything! Take care, everyone!