Hello everyone.

I would like to apologize for the long absence. I don't have a good excuse, except for that I really lost all inspiration for this story and it took me a long time to get my ass in gear.

I just wish I'd made some different choices with this story - primarily, I wish I hadn't tried to incorporate my two OCs from an abandoned S1 story. I also wish I'd spent more time developing Karla's character before running headfirst into her story.

I got very busy with these regrets and lost all inspiration to write. I finally managed to grind out this chapter, but to be totally honest, I'm not happy with it. I've worked on it for literally weeks (maybe even months?) and it's just not as good as I want it to be.

But I wanted to finish this story, and maybe start thinking about revising it and/or about writing a sequel. So here is the final chapter of A Raptor's Talons. Thank you for reading.

To CHEESEPUFF fg: I'm glad you like the story! Thank you for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I only own Karla Grayson (and I guess the plot for this chapter...just not Young Justice/DC) :))

HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN:

STAR CITY
October 21, 2022, 19:31 EDT

Rip woke up in a cold sweat, his chest heaving. He glanced at the clock beside him, and his heart rose into his throat. It was time. It was beginning.

Gideon came in from the en-suite bathroom. Her eyes were shining in the half-light, and she knelt on the bed next to Rip. The young man pressed his lips to his girlfriend's shoulder, trying to pretend he wasn't shaking in terror.

"We've spent years preparing," he whispered, half to himself. "How isn't it enough?" Gideon wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gently pushing him up so they were making eye contact. Rip blinked back tears.

"It's okay," Gideon reassured him, brushing Rip's bangs off of his forehead. "I'm not scared." Rip pulled her into a hug, pressing her against his chest. He wanted to stay in this moment, forever.

"I am," he whispered in her ear. He closed his eyes to savor holding her, just as the first blast rocked his house.

Vandal Savage's attack moved quickly. He had been planning the invasion for years, and, unlike Rip, he was prepared. His forces invaded Star City, creating chaos as civilians fled from his armies. The Justice League and the Team had responded to the attack, as had the US military forces.

Rip ran out of his and Gideon's house, rolling a small disc between his fingers – it was an "embiggening" chip, one of Ray's creations that he had yet to invent. Rip and Gideon had only brought one back in time with them. Gideon followed him, holding a small model ship in his hands.

The pounding of footsteps made the two Brits look up. Their friends had arrived, responding to their urgent message they'd sent out.

"Guys, what the hell is going on?" Jax shouted, looking panicked. Rip couldn't blame him. Their home was under fire.

"There's not much time to explain," Rip replied urgently. He did a quick headcount, cursing under his breath. "We need to find Sara, Nate, and Karla!"

"Why?" Zari asked, her eyes wide as she wrapped her arms around herself. She was shaking slightly, and Amaya put her hand on her friend's shoulder in an attempt to comfort both of them. Rip sighed.

"I'll explain the rest later," he said. "This is all you need to know: we are going to protect time, to fix this war. Gideon and I are from the future and we came to this time to befriend and recruit you. Now we need to go." His friends stared at him.

"That's it," Mick announced in his normal slow-sounding drawl. "Rip's gone insane." Rip glanced at Gideon, who nodded and placed the Waverider down in front of them.

"Step back," she warned their friends. Once there was enough room, Rip tossed the chip onto the Waverider. The ship expanded immediately, growing to the size of a small house. Rip turned to the others, who were staring at the ship with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"We need to find the others," he said. "Quickly."

White Canary scanned the battle lines, looking for Raptor. Her friend Rip had just contacted her. He hadn't made a ton of sense, but from what she understood, it was urgent that she collect Raptor and make her way to Rip's house. White Canary spotted the girl.

"Raptor!" the blonde shouted, racing across the street to get to her friend. Raptor swung her sword, engaging one of her enemies in battle. She stabbed them clean through the stomach and then pulled her sword out, looking around.

About four hundred yards away, Nightwing was fighting against another of Savage's soldiers. Raptor's eyes went wide as she saw another creeping up behind her brother. She grabbed her dagger, rushing over.

"Nightwing!" she shouted. "Behind you!" Her brother swung around, his eyes going wide just as the soldier stabbed him through the chest.

"Dick!" Raptor screamed, her voice breaking in the middle of his name. She barely noticed Superboy tackling her brother's murderer away, the clone yelling in rage. She dropped to her knees beside him, gripping his hand tightly. Nightwing's masked eyes stared blankly upwards as she ripped her glove off, pressing two fingers into the pulse point on his throat. Nothing. "No, no, please…" her breath caught, and she bent her head over his body. "Please don't leave me."

"Karla!" White Canary raced up to her friend, her heart dropping when she saw Nightwing's body on the ground. She swallowed hard, leaning down and gripping Raptor's shoulder. "Karla, we need to go," the blonde whispered, feeling terrible. Raptor blinked slowly, looking around at the chaos around her.

"What?" She asked distantly, still clutching her brother's hand.

"Sara's right," Impulse said, appearing next the two girls in a blur. Raptor could see Jason running towards them too, much more slowly than the speedster. Impulse knelt down next to Raptor; his eyes unusually serious. "You two need to go," he told her, urgently. "Fix this. Fix the future." White Canary nodded, firmly pulling Raptor to her feet.

Raptor hesitated, staring at Dick's body. This just...didn't seem real. A hand brushed her face, and she looked up. Jason was standing in front of her, saying her name.

"Karla, go," he was saying. She stared at him.

"I can't," she whispered. Jason shook his head.

"Yes, you can. You have to. You have to save us." Raptor closed her eyes, confused, she felt Jason's warm breath against her cheek. She opened her eyes again, and he was right there. "Go," he said again.

And then he was kissing her, not just a peck, but a real kiss that both grounded her in the moment and made her mind go fuzzy at the same time. He pulled back, cupping her face.

"I had to do that at least once," he told her, smiling that old mischievous grin that was so familiar to her. He squeezed her hand. "Go." Raptor blinked, and White Canary tugged at her arm again. Shaking her head to clear it, Raptor turned around. Sara was still there, staring at Raptor reassuringly.

"Let's go," the blonde whispered again. Her eyes were full of tears. Raptor couldn't respond. She stumbled after White Canary, tears burning in her eyes. The blonde kept turning around to hasten Raptor, her blue eyes wide with concern.

The dark-haired girl could barely comprehend what was happening. Before she knew it, she was standing a few houses away from Sara's friend Rip's. She could see a large, oddly-shaped ship on the lawn. Is that where we're going? She wondered distantly.

Gideon came rushing up, Nate following her. The young man had been fighting with the Team. Gideon turned around, sighing in relief when she saw White Canary and Raptor coming up the street. "Good –" she began to say, just as White Canary cried out a warning and a sword went through Gideon's stomach.

Gideon cried out in pain, her knees buckling as her hand instinctively went to the wound on her stomach. Nate grabbed her as she fell, slinging her up in his arms to carry her. His eyes were wide with horror as he gazed at the blood rushing from her stomach. Belatedly, he whirled around to look at the soldier who'd stabbed her friend. The villain was on the ground, dead, blood spreading across a wound in her chest. Nate raised his eyes to see Rip holding a blaster, his face twisted with pain.

"Oh my god," Sara whispered as she came running up. She stared at Gideon, bleeding out in Mick's arms. "What the hell is going on?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Rip swallowed hard, his panic rising. No matter how long he'd known, he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to lose her.

"Rip," Gideon said, opening her eyes. Her voice was weak, but she spoke firmly. "We need to move." Closing his eyes, the Brit nodded. He beckoned the others forward, into the Waverider. As soon as Martin and Jax, the last two, were aboard, Rip began giving directions.

"Gideon needs medical attention," he said. He led Nate to the medical bay and began to set-up an IV. The futuristic tech meant that many injuries could be healed quickly, but that didn't mean that time wasn't of the essence.

How ironic, to be aboard a timeship and to be running out of time.

"Rip," Gideon gasped out as he fumbled with the IV, his hands shaking. "Rip, go. You need to take-off. The Waverider can't take much more damage." Rip swallowed hard. They'd both known this moment was coming, but he had been in some kind of denial. Now that it was here, he felt like his world was falling apart. "You know what's going to happen," Gideon said quietly. "We both do." She brushed her hand against his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Rip whispered. He pressed his lips against his girlfriend's forehead, struggling to keep it together. Another blast rocked the ship, and he pulled back. Gideon nodded, her face pale.

Rip pulled back, turning out of the medical bay and racing towards the bridge. Even just in the minute it took for him to get from room to room, the Waverider had already taken two more successive blasts.

Breathing hard, Rip slammed into the control panel as another blast rocked the ship. He fiddled with the controls, piloting the ship up into the air. Evading another blast, he set up a time-jump into the temporal zone where there would be all the time in the world to explain to his friends what was happening.

As soon as the Waverider was in the air, Rip was racing backwards the medical bay. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe I can make it, he thought desperately. Maybe…

Rip rushed into the room, his eyes falling on his girlfriend. Gideon lay still, surrounded by her horrified friends. Martin was working with the controls, trying his best to revive her, but Rip knew it was too late. He closed his eyes.

"Stop," he said, his voice raspy. His friends turned to stare at him in shock, and Rip took a shuddery breath. "Just…stop."

"She's…dead?" Amaya asked, her voice cracking. Nate wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's waist as he swallowed hard. Rip nodded slowly, moving towards Gideon's body. He took a deep breath, brushing his fingers over his girlfriend's face. He took another shaky breath before speaking.

"Computer," he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering too much. "Um. Upload – upload Gideon's consciousness." His voice broke, but the Waverider still understood what he was saying. The IV he'd attached to Gideon began to glow a bright blue, and there was a hum as the Waverider calibrated with her brain.

Gideon's body remained laying still, but her voice sounded through the air, full of gentle warmth.

"Good evening, Legends," Gideon said. Jax jumped, looking around for the source of the sound.

"Gideon?" Zari said quietly, a tear tracing down her cheek. Mick turned his back so he wasn't facing the others, but his shoulders were shaking slightly.

"I'm here," Gideon reassured her friends. "I'm always here."

FRANCE, 1637
TWO YEARS LATER

"I look like an idiot," Mick grumbled, a permanent scowl set onto his face. He tugged at the frilly sleeve of the shirt he was wearing. Next to Heat Wave, Martin Stein shrugged.

"I rather like the style of le Mousquetaires de la garde," he said, using a perfect French accent. The two of them and Rip were standing in King Louis's palace, ready to defend the king from a potential threat. In order to blend in, they were wearing costumes, as per usual. Mick snorted.

"You would."

"Can we concentrate, please?" Rip cut in before his two friends could really get into it. The Brit's voice was tight with agitation. Ever since Gideon's death, he'd become progressively more withdrawn and bitter. He scanned the grounds. "King Louis XIII is scheduled to meet an untimely end at the hand of Cardinal Richelieu's men at any moment."

The three young men were standing in the garden of the king's palace, wearing outfits that disguised them as any visitor. Karla, Nata, and Amaya had gone in the jumpship to take care of another problem in a different time, and Jax, Sara, and Ray were in various positions around the palace to protect the king.

"Roger that," the Atom's voice broke in over the comms. "I have eyes on the king." Rip sighed, relieved. For once the mission appeared to be going smoothly.

"Whatever you do, don't let him out of your sight."

"But –" Ray protested. "If today's the day he's supposed to – you know – with the queen…"

"Raymond," Martin broke in, going off on one of his 'professor-tangents.' When Martin was excited about something, he could go on and on. "Without that consummation, there will be no Louis Coutures, no Sun King, and no golden age of France." Rip nodded in agreement, picking up Martin's point and continuing.

"Which means, by extension, no Madame Curie, no Louis Pastuer…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it," Ray said with a sigh. "History will be totally screwed. But I don't have to be there for the actual…you know, consummation, do I?" Rip sighed, closing his eyes. Ignoring Ray's question, he tried to contact one of their other teammates.

"Sara," Rip said. "I need to know the Queen is secure." There was no answer, and Rip groaned again. His friends were sometimes impossible to wrangle. Martin's eyes swept the gardens and he nodded at a group of people dressed suspiciously in long black cloaks moving along the terrace.

"In the mean time, I believe I've identified our assassins," Martin said, looking at the group. He frowned, realizing that they were carrying futuristic blasters. "And I'd wager those aren't just swords on their hips." Rip followed Martin's gaze, and sighed.

"Yes, I suppose that would explain the aberration," the Brit muttered. He turned his head. "Okay, just remain calm. They have no reason to think that we're -" Before Rip could finish his affirmation that the assassins didn't know who they were, they began to open-fire on the group. Martin, Mick, and Rip scattered, diving out of the way. "Never mind!" Rip gasped, pulling out his sword.

The three young men split up - Mick raced for the palace to intercept the assassins who had made it inside and Rip began to engage the nearest adversary. The Brit quickly knocked the gun out of his opponent's hand, leaving the other man with only a sword like himself. Martin disappeared in an attempt to find Jax, though he had no clue where the younger boy was.

Rip scrambled up the steps, turning to parry a blow from his opponent. The young man hopped up onto the railing of the staircase and from there pulled himself up onto the terrace. "Everyone back to the ship!" he shouted.

There was a loud crashing noise as the glass doors to the terrace across from Rip shattered. Jax rolled out amid the shards, wrestling with another assassin. Jax's opponent reared up, forcing Jax backwards and slashing out with his sword.

"That's easier said than done!" Jax said in response to Rip's command as he dodged the swipe from his adversary. Rip ignored Jax's complaint, preoccupied by the assassin he was dueling with whilst balancing precariously upon the railing of the terrace. Rip ducked his opponent's sword swipe and leapt backwards onto the terrace. Once he was firmly on solid ground, he thrust the edge of his sword out, catching the assassin in the knee.

The assassin yelped and made an instinctive grab for his wound. As he did so, he lost his balance and toppled off the railing of the terrace and onto the ground below. Rip turned around to see how Jax was faring. As Rip watched, Jax kicked back the assassin he was fighting. The man reached for his gun, and Jax staggered backwards.

"Grey," he shouted to his partner over the comms., glancing behind him. "Meet me on the north side of the house, and hurry!"

"It's actually a chateau." Martin couldn't resist correcting his younger 'brother.' "What is your plan?"

"You'll see!" Jax shouted, spinning around and diving off the edge of the roof. Rip's eyes went wide and he ran to the edge of his terrace to look down. Martin was standing just below the railing and Jax was falling straight towards him.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Martin muttered, raising his hands. Jax stretched his hands out as well, and as soon as his fingers brushed Martin's palms, the two combined to become their shared alter-ego of Firestorm. Rip closed his eyes, groaning in irritation as Firestorm took off through the air, fire streaming from his head and hands.

"Ah...bloody hell," Rip muttered. To add fuel to the fire, Ray Palmer wearing his full-sized Atom suit came flying around the edge of the palace. He blasted one of the assassin's, making the person fall of the roof, before landing next to Rip on the terrace

"That was the last assassin," the Atom said cheerfully. Rip stared at his friend in shock, and he stared back. "What?"

"What did we say about not using powers and future tech?" he asked his friend in irritation. The Atom blinked, and then shrugged. He looked back at the assassin on the ground, and at the laser blaster lying next to him.

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But they started it." Rip groaned, shaking his head as the rest of their teammates began to pour onto the terrace as well.

"Don't look at me!" Mick insisted, having caught the end of Rip's reprimand. "I left my gun on the ship like a good little boy scout." Mick stepped over the assassin's body carelessly, regrouping with his friends. Behind Mick was the King of France, stumbling about and hyperventilating.

"What is going on?" he gasped, looking around at all the assassins and then at the heroes with wide eyes. Rip sighed, and when Firestorm landed behind him, he turned to give the hero a stern look. Firestorm shrugged sheepishly.

Sara appeared from the palace looking rather disheveled, holding up her skirts as she rushed down the stairs. Her hair was a mess and her chest was heaving, and upon closer inspection it appeared that she was missing the outer layers of clothing she'd been wearing when they'd come. She cleared her throat.

"I believe the queen is waiting for you in her bedroom," Sara announced, curtsying before King Louis. He stared at Sara with wide eyes, still in shock from what he'd just witnessed. Firestorm was smirking. He had realized where Sara had been during that fight and was unable to control himself from teasing Sara.

"And I'll bet she's all warmed up for you," Firestorm said with a wicked smirk. Sara glared at her friend, and Firestorm laughed again.

"Shut your mouth Jax," Sara warned, glaring at the younger boy. "Or I'll cut your eyes out and feed them to you." Firestorm simply chuckled again, crossing his arms over his chest as he shook his head in amusement. Sara scowled, punching him on the arm as she walked past. Rip sighed.

"I believe our work here is done," he muttered, shaking his head. He turned to leave the roof, his teammates following him. They'd left the Waverider not too far away from the palace, so the walk over was short. As they entered the ship, Jax and Martin split once more. Martin immediately began to scold Jax for being reckless.

"Another successful mission in the books!" Ray said cheerfully, pumping his hands in a celebratory manner. "Where are we off to next?"

"Gideon and I have calculated a 96 percent likelihood of another aberration in Bhopal, 1912," Martin said once he'd stopped lecturing Jax. The team walked through the metal corridors of the Waverider, towards the cockpit. Mick grunted.

"Why can't it be Aruba, 2024?" he protested. Their first mission(s) as the Legends had been cleaning up their future and defeating Vandal Savage. They had managed to do so over the course of one year, and then they'd returned home. After only a few months, however, many of them got restless, and made an unanimous decision to continue protecting history.

Still, it could get tiring.

"For real," Jax agreed. "We've been going non-stop for the past six months!" Sara listened to her friends in mild disbelief, surprised that none of them were talking about the glaring concern with the last mission. Despite her faux-pas on the last mission, she did have a strategic head.

"No one wants to address the fact that Cardinal Richelieu's men were armed with laser guns?" She asked incredulously, shaking her head. She couldn't believe that the assassins had gotten their hands on those weapons. Martin nodded.

"Clearly provided to them by a time-pirate or some such," he agreed. The team entered the bridge and Jax sighed, seeing his friends' point.

"Aw, Grey's right," he said regretfully. "We need to find out who -" Rip, who had been standing at the center control of the Waverider, finally looked up. He cut Jax off, losing his patience.

"So you can get another chance of destroying the very history you're supposed to be protecting?" Rip asked sarcastically. The other members of the Legends paused and exchanged long-suffering looks. They couldn't seem to go one mission without getting a lecture from Rip. Ray smiled.

"Ah, I knew I forgot something!" he said in faux-surprise. "The part where Rip tells everything we did wrong." Rip wasn't amused by Ray's joke. He glared at his friends.

"As in, seducing the Queen of France just before she's supposed to conceive the country's greatest hope for the future?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at Sara. The blonde hero raised her hands defensively.

"She seduced me," she corrected Rip. The Brit rolled his eyes.

"Or wrong as in violating our policy of not using super powers in front of people?" he asked, looking at Ray, Jax, and Martin pointedly. Martin was more of an afterthought, he'd only helped Jax activate their powers to save Jax's life. But Ray and Jax had had other options and didn't use them.

"They had laser guns!" Jax exclaimed, making a face. Mick snorted from the corner, where he was tugging at the sleeve of his shirt again.

"At least I didn't screw up this time," he said. Rip rolled his eyes. He walked over to the other man, reaching into his belt to pull out the gold chain Mick had been concealing. He'd seen his friend lift it, but hadn't had time to insist that he put it back. Rip waved the chain in front of Mick's face, and the other man stared back. "Stealing's not screwing up," Mick said.

Rip sighed, walking into his office to toss the gold chain on his desk. The other members of the team recognized the dismissal of their debrief and began to leave. Before they could all vacate the area, Gideon spoke up, "The jump-ship is docking with the Waverider now," she announced.

Sara smiled as she heard Gideon's update, heading back to her quarters. As she stepped inside the room, she heard footsteps approaching, and she left the door open. Jax ducked into his room across the hall, and then Karla poked her head in. "Hey."

"Hey," Sara responded with a smile. "How did your mission go?" Sara asked as Karla entered their quarters. The two of them didn't technically have to share a room, but more often or not they did.

Karla shrugged, peeling off her mask. Her mission had taken place in the future, so instead of time-appropriate garb, she was wearing her superhero suits. Instead of the Talon-inspired gold getup, however, Karla now donned the black-and-blue Kevlar and the name Nightwing in an homage to her brother.

"It was dull," she replied, with a shake of her head. "How about yours?" Sara shrugged too. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything Jax shouted out from across the hall.

"Your girlfriend fucked the Queen of France," Jax called. Karla's mouth dropped open, and she began to laugh.

The two girls had never really defined their relationship as exclusive, so Karla was more amused than anything else. Sara sighed, rolling her eyes.

"That's about right," the blonde muttered, shrugging her shoulders in a mildly sheepish manner. Karla laughed again; her blue eyes bright. She took a step closer.

"So…" Karla asked suggestively. "How's the Queen of France in bed?" Her blue eyes glinting mischievously, and Sara smirked. She shoved Karla playfully, and the shorter girl allowed herself to be pushed back onto the bed. Sara leaned down on top of her, pressing her lips against Karla's throat.

"Not as good as you," Sara whispered back huskily. Karla moaned, leaning her head back. She wound her fingers through Sara's blonde locks and guiding the other girl's head up to kiss her.

"Mm…" Karla murmured. "Flatterer." She tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Before the two could get much further, there was a loud boom and the Waverider shook. The two girls were jostled together, and Sara fell off the bed and hit the ground. She winced.

"Ow…"

"Gideon!" Karla exclaimed, sitting up straight. Karla looked around in alarm as she got to her feet. She paused to help Sara up quickly before heading out of her quarters. Across the hallway, Jax was coming out of his room as well, a similar look of shock on his face. All three of them began running towards the cockpit. "What was that?" Karla asked.

By the time she, Jax, and Sara arrived, the rest of the team was coming as well. Gideon spoke, her voice anxious. "That was a time-quake, I'm afraid," she told the Legends. "An unusually large aberration." Rip swore under his breath, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"What triggered it?" he asked. Though neither he nor the Legends had ever experienced a time-quake before, Rip knew they were catastrophic. There was a moment as Gideon scanned all of history, trying to see where the quake had occurred.

"Gotham City, August 4, 2016. It appears that…a former Talon took over Gotham City and eventually the entire east coast starting on that date." Karla's motuh dropped open. There was a pause, unusual for Gideon, before she continued, sounding almost reluctant, "It appears that a young Karla Grayson aligned herself with Lincoln March and took down the Team and the League."

Karla gasped out loud, clutching the table in front of her. All the others turned to look at Karla. The woman's face had gone pale, and she looked like she was about to be sick.

"Lincoln…" she whispered shakily.

"You know him?" Ray asked his friend. Karla nodded shakily. She licked her lips.

"He trained me," she replied reluctantly. "He was practically family." She scanned the historical reports that Gideon projected in front of them. "There's no way he would -" she shook her head, cutting herself off. "Never mind. Gideon, plot a course."

"Course plotted," Gideon responded after a moment. "The altercation occurred at a gala." Rip nodded, looking to his friends. All of them were staring at Karla in shock. Rip was surprised too, but he'd known a little more about Karla's past than her friends did - it had all been in the history books.

"Get dressed," he told them. "Ray, suit up." The Legends dispersed to get ready for their impromptu mission, but Karla was rooted in place. She was gazing off into the distance, her eyes locked on something only she could see. Sara stepped up to Karla hesitantly, running a hand down the other girl's back.

"Karla," Sara whispered. She stepped in front her, cupping her face gently. Karla blinked back tears, focusing on Sara's face. Sara pulled her into a hug, her heart aching for the other girl. "I'm so sorry."

Karla didn't respond, and Sara pulled back after a long moment. She traced a hand down Karla's face, and then turned to leave, figuring it might be best to give Karla a few moments to herself. No sooner had Sara stepped away, however, than did Karla finally find her voice.

"Sara, wait." The blonde stopped, turning to look at Karla. The raven-haired woman was staring at her with wide blue eyes. The shorter girl took two steps forward, pressing herself into Sara's arms. Sara wrapped herself around Karla again, and the dark-haired girl looked up. "I need you to do me a favor," Karla breathed out. Sara nodded, bewildered.

"Anything," she whispered. Karla pulled back slightly, her eyes grave. She swallowed hard, and when she spoke her voice was shaky.

"If Lincoln March gets to me," she said quietly. She took a deep breath. "If he gets in my head and gets me to side with him –" Sara shook her head.

"He won't," Sara interrupted. "He won't, you won't listen to him." Sara clutched Karla's face. "You are stronger than him." Karla's lips twitched slightly, and she shook her head.

"I - I love you for saying that," she whispered. "But I don't know if it's true." She took another breath, and then continued, her voice barely above a whisper. Sara listened with growing dread. She knew what Karla was about to say. "If he gets to me," she continued. "I need you to –" her voice cracked, and Sara closed her eyes. "I need you to – to kill me." Sara shook her head slowly, and Karla continued.

"You'll never win if he gets me. I know it's not fair," she whispered, staring at Sara imploringly. She reached up to cradle her Sara's face, her cool hands bracketing the blonde's cheeks and chin. "I know, and I'm so sorry." Karla closed her eyes. "I just…"

"I know," Sara whispered, blinking slowly. She reached out carefully, brushing Karla's hair behind her ear. Karla's breath came out in a hard shudder. "It's okay." Sara swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, her voice was raspy. "I got you."

GOTHAM CITY
August 4, 2016, 21:51 EDT

The Legends scattered around the party. Most of them were wearing dress clothes in order to blend in except for Ray, who was zooming around in his miniaturized Atom suit.

Nightwing was standing inconspicuously in the corner, watching her younger self from across the room. The younger Karla wasn't paying attention to anyone at the party, simply scanning her eyes across the room furtively. As Nightwing watched, the other Karla inconspicuously pressed down on her comm., listening to whoever was speaking to her.

After a moment, she set her glass down on a nearby table and crossed the room. Nightwing followed her gaze, which was locked on the disappearing form of a tall man.

Lincoln March.

Taking a deep breath, Nightwing raised her hand to her own comm., murmuring to her friends out of the corner of her mouth. "I got eyes on the younger me," Nightwing muttered to her teammates as she began to follow the other Karla at a distance. She watched as Lincoln slipped out of the ballroom and into a side door, Karla following suit. She quickened her pace, sliding out after them.

By the time Nightwing got to the hallway, Karla had already realized who her mark truly was. The teenage girl was staring at Lincoln, hands slack by her sides. Nightwing swallowed hard as she slid closer. Her eyes fell on Lincoln's face, and her heart stuttered. She'd missed him so much...

Lincoln was speaking to the younger Karla quietly enough that Nightwing couldn't hear what he was saying. She watched, stricken, as Lincoln turned her younger self to face the windows. He was murmuring to her, telling her his plan. Nightwing was glad she couldn't hear what Lincoln was saying – she didn't doubt that she would be tempted. Hand trembling, Nightwing raised a hand to her comm.

"Sara," she whispered. "Do you have a shot?" There was a beat of silence, and then Sara replied.

"Yes," the former assassin whispered back. Karla's throat closed up. Neither she nor Sara had breathed a word of their agreement to their friends – the others were under the impression that Sara would take out Lincoln March if she needed to. They had no idea that Karla was the target.

"Copy," Nightwing responded. "I'm moving in."

Nightwing dropped her hand from her comm., rushing up behind Lincoln March. She tacked the man to the side, his arms falling away from Karla's shoulders. Lincoln grunted in surprise, and Nightwing used his momentary distraction to roll on top of him. She pulled her fist back, punching him in the face as hard as she could.

The younger Karla whirled around in shock. She blinked several times, shaking off the cobwebs that Lincoln had spun around her brain. Still, the scene in front of her didn't make sense. A young woman wearing dress clothes was fighting Lincoln. Karla watched as Lincoln shoved the young woman off, and Karla got a good look at her face. She blinked.

"Mom?" she whispered quietly. Nightwing turned her head at Karla's quiet, shocked exclamation. Her moment of distraction cost her dearly, and Lincoln tackled her to the ground. Nightwing grunted, and Lincoln March bowled her over, wrestling her so that she lay flat. She tried to shove him off of her, but he was too strong.

As he loomed over her, Lincoln got a good look at Nightwing's face. He paused, not letting his grip slacken, and looked from Nightwing to Karla and then back again. He laughed, delighted.

"Well!" he said. "Two owlets for the price of one." He flipped Nightwing over, pulling her into a headlock. "Join me," he hissed in her ear. "We could have it all. Join me." Nightwing closed her eyes. She could feel the small vestige of control that had remained since she'd seen Lincoln slipping. Her resolve was breaking.

She could see it. Her and Lincoln, punishing all those who had done them wrong. Nightwing's grip on Lincoln's wrist slackened nearly involuntarily as she began to give up.

"Karla!" Sara's voice sounded urgently in her ear. "Karla, stay with me, babe. Listen to my voice - you're stronger than him." Nightwing closed her eyes.

"Sara..." she whispered slowly.

Suddenly, Lincoln's grip on Nightwing went loose, and the woman went sprawling across the ground. She gasped as she hit the floor, realizing how close she'd been to letting Lincoln get in her head. She looked up to see which of her teammate's had saved her. To her surprise, it was none of them.

The young Karla Grayson had buried one of her knives in Lincoln's neck, all the way up to the hilt. The man was gasping, blood slipping down his collar and staining his shirt bright red.

Karla's face was twisted as she pulled the dagger from Lincoln's neck, dropping the weapon to the floor. The man fell to his knees, his wide as he stared at the younger Karla in shock. His hand was clasped to his wound, blood spilling out beneath his fingers. "Owlet..." he whispered, choking on his own blood. His voice wavered under the weight of her betrayal and Karla choked back a sob.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, bending her head over his body. "I'm so sorry..." Lincoln didn't answer. His head fell flat against the ground, his breathing becoming shallow. Karla knew exactly where she'd stabbed him - the carotid artery. There was no doubt that he was dying. She gripped his hand as his life left him, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she fought back tears.

Nightwing watched in horror. "Nightwing!" Sara's urgent voice came over the comm. "What's going on?"

Snapping back to herself, Nightwing scrambled to her feet. "Everything's - everything's fine," she gasped. She scrambled over to Lincoln's body, wrenching his jaw open. Karla stared at her in shock as she groped around in the back of Lincoln's mouth. Her fingers fell on the tooth she was looking for and she yanked hard, ripping the electrum-lined tooth from Lincoln's mouth. She dropped it to the ground, revulsion curling in her stomach.

"Thank you," Nightwing whispered to Karla. The younger girl didn't answer. Her face was deathly pale.

"Who are you?" she asked. Nightwing pressed her lips together, not knowing what to answer. Before she could figure out what to say, Rip's voice came over the comm. urgently.

"Nightwing, the third Robin will walk through the hallway door in one minute and thirty-eight seconds. You need to go!"

Nightwing stared at Lincoln March's dead body, her heart twisting. She couldn't bring herself to move. She was faintly aware of Rip urging her again in the background, her other friends chiming in when she didn't respond. The younger Karla stared at the elder woman, waiting for her to say something.

A chill ran down Karla's spine. Something about the way the woman was looking at Lincoln, something about the raw, horrified expression on her face...it reminded Karla of herself. She took a shaky breath.

"You should go," Karla whispered to the other woman. She tore her eyes off of Lincoln's body to look at Karla with unseeing eyes. "Go," Karla said again, growing desperate. To Karla's relief, a young man wearing a high-tech suit of armor came running up. As Karla watched, he slid his helmet down, exposing his face. Another chill ran down her spine as she realized that, despite the fact that this man was several years older, it was unmistakably Ray Palmer, Sara's friend. Karla blinked.

"Come on," the older Ray murmured to the woman. He cast a nervous glance at Karla, tugging on the woman's arm. "Let's go." The woman rose to her feet slowly, and the older Ray pulled her out of the hallway undetected. Karla stared after them, shell-shocked.

"Karla? Oh my god!" Tim's voice surprised Karla, and she looked up. The younger boy ran over to his friend, already pulling his phone out. He dialed 911, requesting an ambulance and the police as he dropped on his knees next to Karla. "What happened?" he asked her urgently as he hung up the phone. Without waiting for an answer, Tim raised his hand to the comm. in his ear. "Bruce, March is dead. Karla and I are in the side hallway."

"Karla, what happened?" he asked again. She blinked slowly, turning to look at Tim. Her face was pale, and there was a smudge of blood on her cheek.

"I don't…I'm not sure," she replied slowly. That wasn't quite a lie. The last few moments felt so unbearably confusing, she was hardly sure that they were real. Tim looked around again, cringing as he noticed the dagger laying to the side.

"Who did this?" he asked Karla gently. The hallway door burst open and Bruce came running out, his eyes wide. In the distance, Tim could hear sirens wailing. "Karla?" he prompted the older girl. Bruce knelt beside Tim and Karla, and Karla closed her eyes, trying to sort out her whirling thoughts.

"It was me," she whispered, so quietly that Tim could barely hear her. He glanced at Bruce with wide eyes.

"Tim, what happened?" she heard Bruce ask. Tim shrugged, just as bewildered as Bruce was. Both of the men turned to look at Karla for a further explanation, but her eyes were still closed.

The only thing Karla could think was: I'm sorry.

GOTHAM CITY
August 7, 2016, 09:58 EDT

Commissioner Gordon stared at the security tapes in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was finally hallucinating after one to many nights of poor sleep. But when he took his hands away from his face, the image on the screen didn't change.

"You're positive this hasn't been doctored?" the commissioner asked futilely. The tech who'd brought him the tape nodded sympathetically.

"Yes, sir, I'm certain." The younger officer paused, and then added softly, "I know you know the family. But this is real."

James Gordon sat down in his chair with a heavy sigh. The investigation about Lincoln March's assassination had been ongoing, and in the few days that had passed there had been no breaks in the case thus far. The only witness was Karla Grayson, the sister of Commissioner Gordon's daughter's best friend, and she had been too stunned to really shed much light on the matter.

No one, Commissioner Gordon least of all, had thought that Karla might be a suspect.

But now, the security tape of the hallway was suggesting – practically proving – otherwise. Gordon rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache.

"Dad?" The commissioner looked up. His daughter, Barbara, was standing in the doorway to his office. She walked closer, curious and a little apprehensive. She'd heard the young officer's statement about her dad knowing "the family," and the horrified look on her father's face was plain as day.

Before her father could protest, Barbara leaned over his desk to look at the computer screen. Frozen on the laptop was the clear, undeniable image of Karla Grayson stabbing Lincoln March. Barbara gasped loudly.

Normally, Commissioner Gordon might have been upset that his daughter was peeking in while he was reviewing key evidence but given the circumstances, he couldn't find it in him to scold her.

Barbara rocked backwards, her mind reeling. She tried to recall the events of the night, but she was too stunned to think properly. Karla had gone after Lincoln, and then moments later he was dead. But it didn't make sense - all evidence pointed to Lincoln not being violent, and Karla hadn't said anything incriminating. Why would she kill him?

"Sir." The commissioner looked up. One of his other officers was standing in the doorway to his office, her face grave. "Karla Grayson was just spotted walking into the park." Commissioner Gordon sighed.

"Let's go," he said with a nod, getting to his feet. He walked over to the door of his office, grabbing his holster and pulling it on. Barbara stayed where she was, rooted in place by her father's desk.

She felt dizzy. "Dad…" Commissioner Gordon stopped what he was doing, looking over at his daughter. He walked over to her, pulling the nineteen-year-old into a tight hug.

"I know, baby," he said quietly. "I don't want to do it either."

Karla knew that her arrest was unavoidable. She had been aware of the security cameras in the hallway, and she knew it was only a short matter of time before someone thought to review the footage. They would quickly deduce that her attack wasn't self-defense, and that she was to blame for the assassination of a beloved politician.

And she would never know the truth. Karla couldn't bring herself to sully Lincoln's name. She wasn't going to claim self-defense, or expose that Lincoln March had once been one of the most dangerous assassins the world had ever known, and had been plotting to take over the world.

None of them would understand why she'd killed him.

Dick and Karla were walking through Gotham City Park when a familiar figure caught Karla's eye. Dick was on the phone, so she waved a hand to get his attention and then pointed vaguely off to the distance to indicate she was leaving. He nodded and gave her a thumbs-up and then continued arguing with his landlord.

Karla walked over to the young woman standing next to the fountain. She stood a few feet away from her, trying to think of what to say. Finally, she spoke. "You're not my mother, are you?" The elder girl glanced at Karla.

"No," she said finally. Her mouth twisted slightly at the corner. "I'm not." Karla nodded. She'd figured this much out after thinking about what had happened more logically. After much thought, she'd come to another conclusion that was perhaps even more impossible.

"You're me," Karla said. The other woman gave Karla a sharp look and then nodded slowly, her breath huffing out.

"How did you know?" The younger Karla played with a loose thread on the cuff of her sleeve. She shrugged.

"I saw the older Ray," she murmured. "I put the pieces together, I guess." She blinked slowly. "If you're here," she said. "That means…I would have done something really awful, wouldn't I?" The older Karla didn't answer. "I knew it."

"You're right," the Karla from the future said with a sigh. "I came to stop you." The future Karla paused for a moment, and then turned towards her past self. There was a strange, intense glow in her eyes. "You know what happens now, don't you." It wasn't a question.

The younger Karla nodded. She'd been waiting for this moment for the past several days. She sighed. "Commit the crime, do the time," she muttered sarcastically under her breath. She nudged the ground with her toe.

"You could try to plead not guilty," the elder Karla said weakly. Both knew that that wasn't an option - Karla would take responsibility for it. It was her own way of giving Lincoln justice, even if he didn't deserve it. The Karla from the future sighed again. "I'm - um..." she trailed off, pulling her hand out of pocket to show a small metal device. "I'm supposed to wipe your memory of all of this. Me and Ray and everything." The younger Karla stared at her, and her older self sighed. "I'm not going to do it," she said. She tucked the device back in her pocket, glancing to the side furtively.

"Um...thanks," the younger Karla said quietly. There was a beat of silence, and then, unable to help herself, "So - you and Sara? That's, like..." The elder Karla shot her younger self an amused look, and she shuffled her feet, looking at the ground. "Um. Never mind."

"Go back to our brother," the older Karla said. "Spend as much time with him as you can." She glanced at the ground. "It won't be long now." The younger Karla nodded slowly, turning to leave. Before she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For stopping me." The Karla from the future made eye contact with her younger self.

"Thank you for stopping me," she replied.

Karla blinked, but she didn't have time to ponder this. The elder version of her was already walking away, her hands stuffed in her pockets and her head bent. Karla headed back over to Dick, who was hanging out his phone with a sigh when she walked up. He shot her a smile.

"Karla!" A familiar voice shouted. The dark-haired girl turned her head. Barbara was headed towards her, a panicked look on her face. Before she could get any closer, a uniformed cop came out of nowhere, intercepting Barbara's path and holding her back. The redhead struggled to get past, and Karla swallowed hard at the pained look on the elder girl's face. She could hear the sirens.

Taking a deep breath, Karla turned back to her brother. Dick had noticed Barbara too, and his lips were parted in confusion as he stared at his best friend. "What –" he began.

Before he could say another word, Karla launched herself at him, hugging Dick and hanging on tight.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She had known it was coming soon, yes, but she hadn't realized it would be this soon. Dick instinctively hugged his sister back; his confusion and panic was growing.

"Karly, what's going on?" Karla didn't answer. She kept her eyes closed and her face buried in Dick's shoulder. I'm going to hang onto this moment forever, she thought fiercely, her eyes stinging painfully with tears. She reached into her jacket, subtly unhooking her utility belt and slipping it into Dick's pocket. She could hear the footsteps approaching.

"Karla Grayson?" Commissioner Gordon's voice cracked with emotion as he stared at the two siblings in front of him. Karla stepped away from Dick, holding her hands up. Her eyes were closed, tears shining at the edges of her eyelashes. Dick whipped around; his face contorted with panic.

"What? What's going on?" the Commissioner couldn't answer. One of his officers stepped forward, beckoning Dick away from Karla. The nineteen-year-old resisted, looking back towards his sister in confusion. "Karly –" He looked around, realizing for the first time that the guns the police officers were holding were trained at his sister. It didn't take him long to put two and two together.

"What?!" Dick shouted. "What? No, Jim – " He took a step forwards the commissioner, and one of Gordon's officers caught Dick across the chest, stopping him in his tracks. "Sir, please," Dick said, begging. He stretched his hand out, unsure if he was trying to stop the police or reach his sister. "You can't – she didn't – whatever's going, she didn't do it." He stared at the police officers beseechingly. "Please." The police commissioner turned towards his daughter's best friend. His voice was heavy with regret as he spoke.

"Karla Grayson." Commissioner Gordon finally found his voice. "You are under arrest for the assassination of Lincoln March. Put your hands on your head and get down on the ground." Karla did as she was told, moving slowly and deliberately as to not seem threatening. Once she was kneeling, her hands behind her head, one of Gordon's officers stepped up.

The officer, Roberts, pushed Karla to the ground so that she was laying on her stomach. He began to frisk her, searching for a weapon. Dick's heart stuttered when he realized that Karla was probably wearing her utility belt. But Roberts found nothing.

For the first time, Dick registered a weight in his pocket that hadn't been there before. He slid his hand into his pocket, his fingers brushing the cool metal of her belt. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

The cop holstered his gun and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Yanking one of Karla's arms down at a time, he locked her wrists behind her back.

"You have the right to remain silent," Roberts recited, pulling Karla to her feet. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I've just read you?" Karla didn't answer, her jaw moving tightly. The officer waited a beat, and then repeated, "Do you understand – "

"Yes," Karla interrupted. She turned her head, opening her eyes to look at the arresting officer calmly. "I understand."

The trial went quickly. Karla made the decision to plead guilty early on, but the lawyers Bruce hired on her behalf were the best in the business, and they somehow managed to cop a house arrest deal until her sentencing.

Karla had to agree to wear a monitoring anklet that's barriers were constricted to the Wayne Manor. Given the breadth of the mansion, though, that still gave Karla a fair amount of freedom. She wasn't allowed visitors, not that it really would've mattered. She doubted that Bruce would have let any of Karla's friends from the Team – Sara or Jaime – come over, given the whole "secret identity" thing. But still, she'd been allowed to speak to them over monitored phone calls.

Despite Karla's adamancy to plead guilty, her lawyers were still conspiring about other plans. Now they'd come to her with one that she absolutely hated.

"No way," Karla said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. Dick was sitting on the couch next to her, and he sighed.

"Karly –" Dick began.

"No," she repeated. "I'm not taking an insanity plea." Dick closed his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the messy strands in frustrated irritation.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?" Karla glared at her brother, her blue eyes icy. She tried to be as easy-going as she could with this trial - she wanted as many moments spent with her brother to be good memories. This, however, was one thing that she would not budge on.

"I'm not going to Arkham," she said, a note of finality in her voice. Dick shook his head, but she continued, knowing what he was about to say, "I'm being tried in Gotham, I'll be sentenced in Gotham. It doesn't matter that I live in Blüdhaven." Dick sighed.

Lucille Banks, Karla's lawyer, spoke up. She'd been quietly listening to the siblings argue, as she had hoped Dick would be able to convince his younger sister without her help. Family was generally more effective. But here she felt she needed to cut in.

"We can stipulate that your sentencing has to be in Blüdhaven," Lucille offered. Karla opened her mouth to refuse, but Dick spoke first.

"Do it," he said. Karla scowled, and Dick rushed on. "I'm her legal guardian," Dick said. "Don't I have power of attorney?" Lucille nodded, and Karla leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

"Fine," she muttered, exhaling slowly.

The sentencing was that evening. There wasn't enough time for Lucille's deal to be approved, but she'd already spoken to the judge for an appeal. She told Karla that she'd likely be summoned back to the courtroom in a month's time.

There weren't many people in the courthouse there for Karla when the judge sentenced her. Dick was there of course, as were Bruce, Tim, Alfred, and Barbara. Commissioner Gordon was with his daughter. But that was it.

The rest of the room was filled with people who had supported Lincoln March - either personal friends of his, or people who had agreed with his mission for the city. Few of them looked at her with real hatred, most just looked pitying and confused. They were all wondering what everyone else was wondering.

How had a sixteen-year-old girl taken out Lincoln March, an athletic man of over six feet? It didn't make sense. Where had his bodyguards been? What had been her motive?

Karla claimed to have done it alone - and she had, technically. She had to struggle to keep her face straight as she thought about telling everyone that her self from the future had come back to assist in the murder.

Well, that would certainly help her insanity plea.

Two police officers came up to Karla. She stood up from her chair on their command, holding her arms out for them to cuff. They strapped her arms in front of her, connecting the chain around her wrist to one around her waist. One of the officers bent down to strap her ankles together as well. Then they led her out of the courthouse.

Karla walked past her brother, casting Dick a sideways glance. He nodded at her, his eyes full of sorrow as the guards ushered her past. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. Barbara put her hand on his shoulder.

There was a prison van and several guards waiting for Karla outside. They'd pulled the van in front of the courthouse, as close as possible in an attempt to block reporters. It hadn't exactly worked, and as Karla stepped out of the courthouse, news cameras began to flash. One of the officers left Karla's side to begin to push reporters back, and Karla ignored the questions they yelled at her.

The other officer pushed Karla's head down to block her face, sliding the back door off the prison van open and helping Karla inside. She stumbled slightly getting into the van, and the officer unsympathetically pushed her in. The girl slid down the bench, and the officer jumped in after her.

He attached the chain at the center of the floor on the van to Karla's wrists and then turned around to jump out. He closed the door, locking it from the outside. Karla closed her eyes.

She felt the van's engine start, and then the vehicle began to move underneath her. She kept her eyes closed, swallowing hard. She'd been relatively quiet and emotionless since her arrest, but now that she was alone, it was starting to hit her.

I killed Lincoln, she thought. I left Dick. A tear trickled down her face, and her breath caught in her throat. Before she could really start to sob, a thump on top of the van made Karla open her eyes. She peered around curiously as she sniffled slightly. She was unable to see anything in the windowless back. There was another thump, and a startled yelp from the driver's seat.

Karla stood up instinctively, walking closer to the wall. The van had stopped moving. She pressed her ear against the wall to listen, and she could hear the unmistakable sounds of a fight. She banged on the wall of the van.

"Hey!" she shouted. "What's going on?"

She waited tensely for the response, but it never came. A screeching sound from behind Karla made her whirl around. The doors to the van flew open. A man wearing a red mask that covered his entire face was standing on the ground in front of Karla. As she watched, stunned, he hopped into the van. He was holding a lock-pick, and he made quick work of Karla's chains.

Karla stared at him with wide eyes. He stared at her for a few seconds, and when she didn't move he grabbed her, lifting her up from the bench and setting her onto the ground outside the van. He hopped down next to her. Karla looked around in surprise.

The three prison guards were lying on the ground. Two of them were unconscious, but one was staggering to his feet. He went for his gun. The man in the red hood twisted, beating the guard across the face. She couldn't help but notice that he was clearly aiming to decapacitate, and though his blows were vicious he wasn't aiming to kill.

As she observed, the vigilante swept the last guard to the ground and then turned to Karla. Her breath caught as the man's hands closed on either side of her face. She tried to think what to do – fight back? Run away? If she ran, where to – back to the police? Before she could make a decision, the man was leaning in closer to her. He whispered something in her ear, his voice distorted by a voice modulator.

"Go."

Karla did.

DETROIT
October 2, 02:35 EDT

Jazz Turner sat up in bed. She had waken to a noise outside her window. Yawning, she walked across her room, pressing her face against the glass. It was dark outside, and the pouring rain made it hard to make anything out. But something made her suspicious.

Running down the stairs, Jazz entered the dojo that she and her dad owned and lived above. She crossed the darkened gym level, throwing the door open. A gust of cold wind and rainwater sprayed her face as she flung the door open.

Squinting out into the dark rain, Jazz could better make out what she'd seen upstairs. A girl was struggling against two men who had ganged up on her. As Jazz watched, the girl ducked a punch, charging forward and catching one of her assailants around the waist. The man behind her put his hands on her waist, attempting to pull her off.

Scowling, Jazz charged out of the doorway.

"Hey!" She shouted. She ran out into the rain, catching the man behind the girl and slinging him backwards into the ground in one fluid movement. He landed on his back, his breath coming out in short gasp. Before he could recover, Jazz switched her stance, launching a powerful roundhouse into his face. The man's head snapped to the side, and he slumped against the ground, raising his arms to cover his face.

Jazz turned her head, half-expecting to see the other man coming at her. To her surprise, he was on the ground as well. The girl was standing a few feet away, and her knuckles were raw and pink from punching the man in the face. Jazz bent down, scowling.

"Beat it," she ordered the two men – she could see now that they were hardly out of their teen years. She even recognized one of them from school. The one that she'd beat up nodded rapidly, scrambling to his feet. His friend followed suit, and the two of them hauled ass out of there. Jazz turned towards the girl who had been attacked curiously.

The other girl raised her head, brushing her dark wet hair out of her eyes. She looked a little younger than Jazz's seventeen, but not much. She had pale skin and bright blue eyes. And - Jazz couldn't help noticing - despite the hunted look in her eyes, she was beautiful.

She only looked up for a second before dropping her gaze again, but it was enough for Jazz to get a glimpse of her face – and she recognized it immediately from the pictures that had been plastered all over the news for the last few weeks.

"Hey," Jazz said, surprised. "I recognize you, from the news. Aren't you that girl whose wanted for that assassination of that mayor candidate?" The girl gave no response. Jazz arched an eyebrow. "How'd you get to here from Gotham without being caught?"

"Jazz?" She turned her head. Her dad had come down the stairs and was standing at the edge of the doorway. "What's going on out here?" He walked over to his daughter, looking over her shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at the bedraggled girl in front of his daughter. "Who is this?" Jazz turned back to her dad.

"A wanted murderer," she responded coolly. He raised his eyebrows. Jazz tapped her chin, trying to recall. "I think…Kara, maybe?" The girl still didn't respond. Her head was lowered, shoulders slumped, hands hanging loosely by her sides. There was no sign of aggression in her stance. Ben took a step forward.

"Look at me," he told her. Almost against her will, Karla raised her gaze. Ben studied her slowly, sympathy rising in his chest. He recognized her too, and more importantly recognized the look in her eyes. He glanced at Jazz, who nodded. She knew what he was thinking – she had known his habit of taking in strays every now and then, ever since she was little. Most of them didn't stay long, but they all came back to visit, all saying the same thing – that Ben had helped them start over, wipe their slate clean, get a life they were proud of.

If there was ever a person who needed a clean slate, it was this girl right here.

"Let's go inside," Ben said, opening the door to the dojo. "We should talk."

An hour later, after some quick introductions, Karla was clean and dry and wearing some of Jazz's clothes. They were too big on her – the girl was much taller and curvier, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. Karla pushed the sleeves of the sweatshirt back up her arms. Jazz set a cup of tea down in front of the younger girl, and Karla murmured a quiet thank-you.

"It's not what people think," she said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. Neither of them had asked her to explain, but she wanted to. She wasn't sure why - she hadn't explained what had happened to anyone. Not Bruce, not Dick, not Jaime. None of them knew what to think, but Karla inexplicably wanted these two to know. The hot tea warmed her all the way down to her bones and reminded her of Alfred. "I…it's very complicated." Ben sat down across from her, studying her slowly.

"Who trained you?" he asked her. He had recognized her mannerisms outside, but he wanted confirmation of his suspicions. Karla's head shot up; her blue eyes wide with surprise.

"What?" Ben chuckled at the shock on her face. She had just proved he was right.

"I knew the second I saw you," he told her gently. "Takes one to know one, I guess. You were an assassin, weren't you?" Karla swallowed hard, staggered. She studied Ben, trying to place his face, but she couldn't.

"I – I was a Talon," she admitted after a long beat of silence. "For the Court of Owls." Ben nodded. He'd heard of the crime group before.

"My father was part of the League of Shadows for a long time," Jazz told Karla quietly. Jazz was staring at Karla intently, and Ben had to bite back a chuckle. His daughter had never been this involved when Ben took in one of his strays, but from the way she was looking at Karla he knew why – Jazz had a little crush.

"Is that why you killed that man?" Jazz asked softly.

Karla swallowed hard, looking down at her cup of tea again. She didn't respond immediately – truthfully, she wasn't sure what her answer would be.

"I don't need details," Ben told her, standing up and walking over towards her. She turned her head, looking up at Ben as he stood over her. "But I do need honesty. This can be a safe place for you, a place for a second chance." Karla's breath caught. She hadn't expected this offer. Ben continued; his voice steady. "I need to know that you're not dangerous. I want to help you, but I need to protect my daughter."

"Dad," Jazz said, rolling her eyes. He held up a hand, silencing her before she could even start to protest. Both of the Turners focused their eyes on Karla, waiting for her answer. The girl licked her lips, thinking.

"I'm not dangerous," she said slowly. "But I don't want to – I don't want to inconvenience you." Ben shook his head. He had known from the moment he'd seen Karla, recognized the broken, scared look in her eyes, that he had wanted to help her. He just hadn't been sure if she would want to be helped.

"It's not an inconvenience," he reassured her. "This is what I do." He held out his hand for Karla to shake. Karla hesitated, looking over at Jazz first. The older girl nodded, smiling encouragingly at Karla, who then shook Ben's hand. He smiled.

"Welcome to the Tiger Dojo."

like i said...not very happy with this chapter, at all. i do like the way the end turned out, but the beginning and middle just feel so...bleh to me.

if any of you don't know Ben Turner is a real DC character; his daughter Jazz is an OC.

anyways.

this stories ~officially~ complete, but i may or may not be going back through to re-edit/re-write certain chapters and areas of this to make sure it's a story i'm proud of.

anyways, please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this story, and/or if you'd like to see a sequel sometime!

i want to thank everyone whose taken the time to read my work - it means a lot. so thank you so much!