The Penny Man

The Penny Man

Story By Meghan Cook

A man in a trench coat stands across from a church at night. In his inner pocket there are thirty pennies; each one had been minted a year after the one before it, going back to 1986. He was four when he got his first one, and had made sure to find a newly minted penny once every year since. The pennies, and the odd way in which he collected them, were irrelevant to his mission, as they were irrelevant to almost everything, but he always had them because one of the few things they weren't irrelevant to were his memories. Each penny had one, some had many, but as was previously mentioned, the pennies were irrelevant.

The man was waiting for someone, as he often did, though who that someone was he wasn't entirely sure. It usually went like this. He would find himself waiting for someone he knew nothing about, nothing other than they needed something found. The man was good at finding things; items, answers, people, pennies minted in specific years, in fact he was so good that he had made a business out of finding things. His business was conducted in a simple way; word would reach him of something that needed finding, and he and the person who needed it found would meet to discuss details such as payment, and within a week they would meet again for the man to return what he had found.

Another man appeared at the intersection across from the man in the trench coat with the pennies. He glanced at the church as he passed it before crossing the street, he appeared to be sweating.

“Are you the man I'm looking for?”  he asked in a trembling voice. The man with the pennies smirked.

“You've never done this before, have you?” he asked the sweaty man.

“N-No can't say that I have.” he let out a nervous burst of laughter.

“Well, it usually starts out with you telling me what you need me to find,” the man with the pennies prompted.

“Ah, yes, well it’s- ah- it's a bit complicated,” the sweaty man stammered. The man with the pennies chuckled, gesturing around him.

“Try me,” he challenged.

“Well, there’s this woman-”

“Ha! Isn’t that typical,” said the man, thinking his time was being wasted.

“Nonono, it’s not like that, well not exactly, it’s-”

“Complicated?” The man with the pennies was quickly losing interest.

“We work together,” the sweaty man started to explain. “Or we did, at least, we worked at the same data encryption company, and about a week ago she was fired. It all seemed very sudden, I mean she was one of the best we had, but one day she went to report something strange she found in her files- didn't say what- and the next day they were clearing out her desk. Now I- I didn't mean to pry, but it was all just so strange that I decided to go and check up on her, she doesn't have any family so I figured she'd be lonely, but when I got to her place it looked completely deserted, like no one had set foot in it for months. I might just be paranoid, but with everything... i- it looked to me... that is, it all seemed a tad... suspicious,” he stammered. The man with the pennies’ attention was now fully returned.

“I should say that it does,” he agreed, scratching at the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “The day she was fired was the last time you saw her?”

“Y-yes.”

“Can you tell me if she was acting unusual beforehand, on edge, maybe?”

“She, uh, she was fine when she came in, but sometime after lunch she started to… to fidget.”

“Fidget?”

“She was tapping her fingers on her desk and messing with her hair, a-and looking over her shoulders.”

The Penny Man hummed and took a notepad out of one of his coat pockets.

Subject appeared to be anxious before termination, perhaps having stumbled upon something that made her uneasy, he scribbled down.

“Did she report things often?”

“N-no, none of us do, I mean we see some strange things, but most of us just figure it's better to get on with the job.”

Subject displayed an interest in information in a reportedly uncharacteristic way.

“And you have no idea what she reported?”

“None.”

“You said her house had appeared to be abandoned for a few months?”

“Y-yes, the furniture was all still there, but everything was a wreck, and if you'd ever seen her desk then you’d know that isn't like her.”

Subject’s home was found abandoned and in a disorderly state, which does not align with the client’s knowledge of her organizational habits. The state of the house suggested that it had been abandoned long before the subject was terminated.

“I, uh, I don't know if you'll need it, but I made a list of a few things about her that might be helpful.” He pulled out a folded and creased piece of printer paper from his wallet and handed it to the Penny Man. It read:

Maya Johnson, age 37

Dominican-American, 5’7’’

Last known address: 780 Reason Road, Apartment # 23

In addition there were some obscure bits of information, such as her favourite cafes and the fact that she had a serious coconut allergy, not the type of thing most people put on lists like these, the sweaty man was more clever than he looked.

“You must have been close,” the man with the pennies commented.

“Oh, well not exactly, I mean we shared a cubicle so we talked often enough, but sometimes it felt as though she didn't know I existed.”

“I know what that feels like,” the man with the pennies grunted. He caught himself before he could reach into his pocket and grab his 2013 penny. “There's one more thing we have to discuss; what type of payment are you planning to make after I find her?”

“Ah, right,” the sweaty man stammered. “I will pay you $10,000 in cash if you agree to find her.” The man with the pennies raised his eyebrows.

“Quite a large sum for someone you claim not to be close to.” The sweaty man ignored the comment.

“I can pay you half now-”

“No,” said the man in the trench coat, his arm stopping the other’s as he pulled out his wallet, opening it to show a large wad of cash. “I never accept payment before a job is finished, I find it reduces incentive.”

“But you'll take the job, you'll find her?”

“If she can be found I'm the one to do it,” he replied, putting away his notebook. “I'll let you know when I find her.”

“Thank you,” the sweaty man breathed out. “You can reach me at-”

“I know, I'll come and find you when I have her, Nathan.” said the man with the pennies. The sweaty man had never given him his name.

“Wha… Who are you?” he received a chuckle in response.

“Well my name is Damian Grey, but people tend to call me the Penny Man.” He smirked like he was sharing an inside joke, which he was, though the sweaty man- Nathan- didn’t know it. “I’ll see you around.”

As he watched the Penny Man cross the street and pass by the church without looking at it, Nathan ran their entire encounter over in his head. He had been told to expect nothing less, but Nathan’s meeting with the detective had served to further reinforce that he was the man to find Maya, though the knowledge that he had the best man on the job still did little to quiet Nathan’s worry.

Damian Grey, however, didn’t let his mind dwell on the meeting that had just transpired. A glance at the clock on a nearby street corner told him that it was 2:35 a.m., and with this knowledge the only thing he had on his mind was that it was high time for a good, strong cup of coffee.

The diner was nearly empty, the quiet of the place only disturbed by the buzz of the twitching fluorescent lights and the occasional bustle or clank emitting from the slow moving kitchen. Damian wasn’t the only one there, but he was likely the most alert, and certainly the most sober. The bleary, bloodshot eyes of the shaky handed businessman sitting three booths away would have served as proof of that if his stench hadn’t already.

“Sure ya’ don’t want decaf, hon?” asked the waitress as she returned to his table, coffee pot and mug in hand.

“Regular for me, thanks.” he replied politely.

Something about the way she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips as she poured for him made Damian think that she must be someone’s mother; what other kind of person could so clearly say something like “It’s your life, make whatever bad decisions you’d like with it,” without needing to utter a single word?

He tried to suppress a smile as he thanked her, her passive aggression and subconscious inclination to nurture reminding him strongly of an old friend of his. It’s been awhile since he’d last spoken with her, and Damian was sure that she’d have plenty to say about everything he was doing wrong with his life, which was quite a lot these days.

He fished his 2015 penny out of his pocket and began to polish it, an absent minded habit of his, as his thoughts of fond memories were all too quickly replaced by sour ones. How could things have gotten so bad so fast?

“Figured I’d find you here, Pennies,”

The raspy voice grated over Damian’s ears, and his shoulders tensed in recognition. Right, that’s how.

“Eric,” he said as the speaker sat down across from him at the booth. The combination of the expensive suit, the upturned effect of his slightly crooked nose, and the knowing smirk adorning his lips filled Damian with the all too familiar urge to punch the man sitting across from him. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Hostile today, aren’t we?” replied the man, Eric, raising his eyebrow with an amused chuckle. He evaded answering the question, instead letting his eyes drift to the 2015 penny, which Damian was too slow to hide from his site.

“Reminiscing? Wonder if they  ever do the same,” said Eric. Damian gritted his teeth and scowled over the top of his coffee cup; they were headed into dangerous waters.

“What do you want?” the Penny Man repeated through clenched teeth, once again receiving no answer.

“I saw him the other day, you know,” said Eric, confident that Damian would know who he was talking about. Damian clenched his fists. “I’d tell you he says hello, but you didn’t come up; not that I’m surprised, all things considered.”

That stung and Eric knew it. He was trying to throw Damian off his guard by manipulating his emotions and poking at still healing wounds, that’s how it always was in this little game of theirs. But Damian was too good at this game to fall prey to such an obvious trick.

“Let’s not linger in the past, Eric, I want to know what you’re doing here in the present.”

“Can’t I just come and say hi to an old friend without raising suspicion?” sighed Eric.

“No,” replied Damian. “And we were never friends.”

“Fair enough,” said Eric, all pretences dropping. “I heard you have a new case.”

Damian raised an eyebrow and gave a short nod, having long since given up wondering how Eric got his information so quickly.

“Drop it.”

“... I’m sorry?” the Penny Man asked.

“Drop the case, Damian, this isn’t like the usual nonsense you get yourself tangled up in; pursue this and you’ll end up getting seriously hurt, or worse.”

“Is that a warning or a threat?” Damian asked, maintaining his composure as his mind analized Eric’s out-of-character request at a rapid fire pace.

“I’ve always been a multi tasker,” Eric responded, shrugging nonchalantly. “This is just one of those happy coincidences where our best interests align with one another.”

“The last time you said something like that to me I ended up in jail for a month and a half. In Canada.” Damian said. Eric chuckled, finding humor in that statement which Damian’s dead-pan expression seemed only to intensify.

“That’s because last time I said something like this I was lying to you.”

“Never would have guessed,” said Damian, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eric chuckled again, looking the slightest bit reminiscent himself.

“I wasn’t entirely wrong, though, month in jail aside you finally cleared up that blind spot you had. Never did trust me again after that,” said Eric. Damian hummed.

“Which begs the question, why would I start back up again now?”

“Self preservation?” Eric offered.

“Now that doesn’t sound like me at all,” replied Damian.

“Well maybe it’s time you change that,” Eric said, his voice taking on a more serious tone that had been previously absent from the conversation. Damian raised an eyebrow at the shift, to which Eric replied with a sigh. “Look, Pennies, you said yourself that we were never friends - hell, after everything that’s happened between us you’ve probably lost the ability to see me as anything but your enemy - but I don’t want to see you end up dead. What would I fill my free time with if I lost my sparing partner?” Eric’s behavior seemed uncharacteristically candid, his emerald eyes were bordering on pleading and shining with something akin to vulnerability.

“... I’ll take your advice into consideration,” Damian said after a moment, having been deeply unsettled by the other man’s sudden shift in persona. Eric released another sigh and got up to leave, realizing that that was the best he was going to get out of the Penny Man. As Eric walked past him Damian reached out and grabbed his arm, holding the sandy haired man in place.

“He really didn’t mention me?” Damian asked, not looking up at the other man. Eric hesitated, the sudden question catching him slightly off guard.

“...No. But I could tell it took tremendous effort for him not to.” Eric replied honestly. Damian released him with a shaky breath, eyes trained on the cup of stale coffee in front of him. “See ya’ around, Pennies,” Eric muttered as he strode towards the exit, setting off the faint ting of the bell as he pushed past the door. Damian glared at nothing in particular in a weak attempt to ignore the tears brimming in his eyes. How did everything get so bad so fast?

The sun was beginning to rise when he finally left the diner, having sat there the entire night thinking while downing cup after cup of coffee, much to the waitress’s dismay. The result of all this thinking was Damian coming to the conclusion that if Eric doesn’t want him involved in this case then he definitely has to be. Damian wouldn’t trust Eric half as far as he could have thrown him on the day that the man in question had broken Damian’s arm in order to give himself an alibi in case the police asked any questions. What those questions would have been about or how breaking someone else’s arm helped Eric avoid them were still lost on Damian, who truly wished that it could have been explained away as the actions of a madman. As it stood, however, Damian was forced to reconcile with the fact that Eric was fine mentally and was, for lack of a better description, simply a jackass.

Be that as it may Eric was never one to turn away from a challenge, which made his request to Damian all the stranger. In the past Eric had on occasion gone as far as coercing Damian to take on cases which were guaranteed to lead to their paths crossing in an attempt to break free of the boredom which always seemed to plague him whenever he’d gone too long without opposition. Could Eric actually be concerned for Damian’s well being? No, definitely not, it must be that whatever his stake in this case is it’s too important to risk by letting Damian interfer.

The thought of Eric thinking something too important to risk was almost as unlikely as the thought of him being genuinely concerned for another human being; he hadn’t earned the the nickname “Gambler” for simply playing poker. To Eric, people’s lives were just the ante in his mad game. What stakes seemed too high to a man for whom half the enjoyment comes from the absurdity of the risk? None that Damian could imagine, yet it must exist, otherwise Eric would have encouraged him to pursue Nathan's case.

If there was anything other than the creepingly uneasy feeling in the pit of Damian’s stomach to come out of his encounter with Eric it was confirmation that there was more to Maya Johnson’s disappearance than meets the eye, not to mention the promise of danger that Eric’s involvement indicated. The prospect shouldn’t have excited him, yet he couldn’t prevent himself from filling up with anticipation and preemptive adrenalin as he strolled out the doors of the twenty-four hour diner. The thought crossed Damian’s mind that he could well be getting in over his head, considering what happened last time he faced off against Eric, but he waved away the notion along with the bitter memories.

The nagging voice rattling at the base of his skull suggesting that he reach out to the crew for help was significantly harder to dismiss, so Damian made do with ignoring it. He didn’t need their help dealing with Eric, and he certainly wouldn't want to disturb anyone among them who was actively avoiding talking or thinking about him. If he was being honest with himself, which there was a good chance he was incapable of doing, he might have admitted that his refusal to contact them could have stemmed from his pride holding him back from being the first to break their collective silence. If he was being more honest with himself, though, Damian would have admitted that the reason he didn't want to reach out to any of them was because he knew he was in the wrong, and that he deserved to be made into a topic he made an effort to avoid discussing. However, Damian Grey made a point of not being honest with anyone if he could avoid it, especially himself, so these thoughts were all pushed down and thoroughly ignored as he made his way to a run-down apartment complex on Reason Road and asked the the bleary-eyed doorman about apartment number twenty-three.

“She's not been in for a while,” the man said indifferently.

“Really? For how long?” Damian prompted.

“I don't know, pal, a while,” said the man, clearly irritated that he had been spoken to. This could go one of two ways, Damien thought.

“She didn't happen to leave a message, did she? I told her I'd be in the area about a week ago, and she insisted that I stop by for some tea. Tea was kind of our thing back in college, everyone else would be having an espresso, and we'd just be relaxing with some chamomile,” He was purposefully rambling and could tell from the doorman’s drooping eyelids that he was achieving the desired effect.

“She didn’t leave a message, man, maybe come back later,” he said, before mumbling, “When my shift is over.” Damien pretended not to hear that last bit.

“No message, are you sure? Gosh, that's just so unlike her. The last time I remember her forgetting something like this she had caught pneumonia, could barely walk, poor thing. I ought to wait here for her here until she gets back, just to make sure she's alright.”

The doorman tried to protest, but Damian was already sitting in one of the unsanitary looking plastic chairs at the end of the room and staring at the door expectedly. The doorman let out a quiet groan as he glanced at Damian, and then at the clock on the wall. If Damian was guessing correctly, then the building likely had some policy against leaving someone that didn't live there unattended in the lobby, and with as tired as this man looked it was only a matter of time before -

“Hey, look man, I've got an extra key if you want to just go up and wait for her in her apartment. “

Bingo. Damian cheerfully agreed to that arrangement, thanking the doorman and droning on about how he should set up the tea to surprise her when she gets back, while at the same time marveling at the lack of concern this man had for the tenants of the building. Damian hadn’t needed to identify himself, hell, he hadn’t even needed to identify the person whose apartment he now holds the keys to. He supposed that's what happens when you leave the place in the hands of the apathetic, overworked, and underpaid, but still, scary. Almost made Damian’s living quarters look safe and wholesome by comparison.

He turned the key in the lock of number twenty-three and pushed the door open. Nathan hadn't been exaggerating when he said that the place seems to have been abandoned well beyond a week, although he had neglected to mention that it looked to be thoroughly ransacked in addition. The furniture, which Damian recalled being told was all still present, had been torn to pieces and strewn about the room, as he walked further in the remnants of a shattered glass vase crunched under his feet, the drapes have been ripped to shreds and the door, which he could see from where he stood leading into the equally tarnished bedroom, was hanging off of its hinges in splinters. In the seconds that it took for him to overcome his initial shock. Damian realized that this was not something that Nathan would have overlooked as insignificant, or let slip his mind. He was smart enough to bring a list that included food allergies, so he would have been smart enough to realize that this train wreck did not qualify as simply abandoned. This must have happened sometime after Nathan's visit.

Damian took out his notes and started frantically scribbling down what he was seeing and thinking. Less than a week ago Maya Johnson had been fired from her job, possibly due to the report she’d made, the contents of which are unknown, not long after Nathan visited her home which appeared to have been abandoned long term, and some time between then and now someone had broken in and thoroughly trashed the place.

His mind felt the pleasant tingling of several buzzing questions as Damian pondered the tangled mess of the situation now lying before him. How long has Maya been away from her home? Why didn't Nathan know about the shift in her living arrangements? What has been on the file she reported? Who ransacked her apartment? How did Eric tie into this?

Damian began to tiptoe his way through the apartment, trying to avoid the bulk of the mess, reaching into his pocket as he did so. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. His personal phone, not the cheap disposable one he used for business calls. The sound of jingling coins broke the fragile quiet and of the erie scene as he extracted his hand from his pocket, emerging with the tool he needed. He clicked on the blacklight, scanning it over the room, making note of the few finger prints he found scattered about. Damian felt sorely unprepared for this case, he hadn't had anything that had needed advanced equipment for months, not since... he wasn't quick enough to stop the memories this time, all of a sudden he found himself blindsided by haunting recollections of flashing colored lights, screeching sirens, the stomach-turning, heart-stopping crack of snapping bones, the steady beeping of a hospital monitor, and the bitter sting of his own tears.

He clenched his jaw to keep his lips from quivering and forced himself to focus on the present. He noticed something shining on the wall in the glow of the blacklight and Damian raised his exposing torch to examine it more closely. Damian was very rarely shocked, his experience in this line of work had taught him to be continuously on alert and prepared (both mentally and physically) for almost everything. What he saw under the light shocked him.

I have the information you need,

meet at the old train yard at

1:15 a.m. on the second Saturday of this month,

any sooner and they'll find me. Come armed.

Leave this place quickly; they’ll be watching it.

I'm sorry.

Damian clicked the light off and the message disappeared. A moment later he switched it back on, having that gathered his bearings, and examined the words again. They were written in a steady hand, save for the last fragment which appeared slightly shaky. This was an important clue, but like most of its kind it asked more questions than it answered.

Who were “they”, and why were they looking for her and watching her home? What information did she have? Who was the message intended for? Why the odd rendezvous instructions? Why did she want her conspirator to come armed? What was she apologizing for?

Damian snapped a picture of the message and decided to heed its writer’s warning and leave quickly. He carefully stepped over the mess on the floor and made his way to the door.

The second Saturday of the month was nearly three days away, he mused as he left the building’s lobby, dropping the borrowed keys on the desk of the now snoring doorman as he passed. Assuming she had meant this month and that the meeting had not already passed that would mean that the note was written recently, if he had to take a guess (as he often did) he would say it was not long before or after her disappearance. Either would make sense, if it was done beforehand then she had suspected that reporting the information in the files would backfire and placed the message as a fail-safe, if afterwards then it was written as a last resort when her initial efforts had proved unsuccessful.

He was just thinking that now would be a good time for another coffee break (small diners, he finds, are the ideal place to sit and process all the information in a case) when the sound of footsteps alerted him to the fact that he had company. The realization came too late, as the next second he found himself lying on the asphalt and blinking out of conscience, having received a sharp blow to the back of the head. An equally sharp shriek sounded from behind him, and Damian turned his head towards it. Damian wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, although he knew that it wouldn’t have made much difference if they were, because the face staring back at him was one that the Penny Man would have recognized anywhere.

“...James…” he murmured as he slipped fully into unconsciousness, the voices above him forming words that he could not identify.

For the first time in a long while, pleasant thoughts danced across Damian’s mind while he slept, leaving him particularly dazed and disoriented when he began to wake. He blinked his eyes open and began to examine the environment. His surroundings were not unfamiliar, but in his confused state Damian found himself unable to properly identify them. It was hot, swelteringly hot, with too bright florescent lights, a sharp and clean chemical scent, and seemed to house several metallic counter tops and rows of equipment. He knew he’d been here before, often, everything was so familiar. His body was stiff and sticky with sweat, and he noticed that his shirt had been removed. Damian attempted to sit up, the movement bringing his attention to the throbbing pain at the base of his skull. He made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a grunt as his hand flew back to cover the pained area, which succeeded in making it feel that much worse.

“Hey there, Pennies, good to see you up and about.” The sharpness of the woman’s voice left quite a different impression than her words. Damian winced as he looked up at her through the blinding fluorescent lights which illuminated what he was beginning to recognise as the lab, as her lab.

“‘S good to see you too, Shannon,” he mumbled. It was not, in fact, good to see her, much less to see her at this lab, which was at the office, where Damian knew everyone he’s been avoiding (hiding from) for months were going to be. Damian felt an intense feeling of dread settle in his stomach, this was not going to be pleasant.

He was, however, slightly relieved that it had been Shannon he’d first seen when he woke up. Relieved that his return home to the office would not be met with the insincere welcome and avoided eye contact that Damian was sure to others would have given him. Shannon was never one for insincerity, and never one to hold back her opinion, and if the glare she was aiming at Damian now was any indication, that wasn’t about to change. If she could read what Damian was feeling in his face she didn’t mention it. Instead what she said was:

“So… you really fucked up back there, huh?”

Part of Damian wanted to laugh, but he only nodded, although he was unsure if she was referring to the way he’d let himself get injured, or the catastrophe that had unfolded the last time they saw each other.

“Yeah, I really did.” he said, slowly sitting up. The corner of Shannon’s mouth twitched as though she wanted to smile, but she quickly schooled her expression back into her famous “den mother scowl”, which conveyed all of her anger and disappointment in equal measure.

“You hurt a lot of people with that stunt you pulled,” she said, not stopping when he lowered his head. “People who cared about you, who depended on you, and who needed you to be there for them to help them through the hurt they were already feeling.”

She fixed him with a piercing look that felt as though it was boring through his soul.

“Why’d ya do it, Pennies? You knew leaving like that would hurt him, and as much as I want to make you the bad guy in this, I know you too well to think that you’d hurt him if you could help it, so why’d ya do it? I just can’t figure it out.”

Damian swallowed. He had reasons for leaving, and he knew they were legitimate, but he didn’t delude himself into thinking that Shannon or the others would share that view of the matter. But she would not release him without answers, and she would not tolerate being ignored.

“I wanted to protect him,” Damian said, staring pointedly at the grotesque stain on the floor. He wondered if they had found out what had caused it yet. That was one mystery not even he seemed to be able to solve.

“... You what?” Shannon asked after a moment of tight silence. Damian tensed as he continued, preparing for the flood that would inevitably follow.

“I wanted to protect him, to protect all of you. My being here was drawing Eric to you and putting you all in danger, and I couldn’t stand putting the people that I love in the cross fire of my batt- ahh!”

Damian was cut off as Shannon smacked him sharply across the back on the head, right where he had been hit earlier. He reached back and clutched his head, doubling over in pain.

“What the hell?!”

“You’re an idiot,” said Shannon.

“And you’re a doctor! Aren’t you forbidden from doing harm, or something like that?” Damian groaned.

“They make an exception for stupid people.”

“I sincerely doubt that!”

“Of course you do, because you’re an idiot.”

He took a deep breath through his nose.

“I could have a concussion, you know. I could have a concussion and you could have just permanently damaged my brain.”

Shannon rolled her eyes and walked across the room to the freezer.

“An idiot and a whiner? I think your time away has made you soft Pennies. And you don’t have a concussion, by the way.” She was already coming back from the freezer with a bag of ice. “Of all the stupid things I’ve seen you do- and trust me, there have been plenty- this one takes the cake; you abandoned your friends, completely cut us all out without a word of warning, to protect us?” She was bustling about the room while she ranted, as she often did, fixing the ice on Damian’s head, pushing him to lie down, and straightening her supplies as she went. “Let’s work through this step by step so we can fully appreciate just how stupid a thing for you to do this actually was, shall we? For starters we were in full crisis mode when you left, so not only did you leave us to deal with that situation- no no, situations- on our own, but you actually added to the chaos by forcing us to work without a captain or a first mate. Then there’s the fact that you left without leaving your password, and what with our hacker being incapacitated we had no way to access our casefiles, client lists, or investigation reports, which meant we would have essentially been flying blind, if we could even get the plane off of the damn ground, which we couldn’t, so thanks for that, really. All this to protect us- and I won’t even get into how insulting it is that after everything we’ve been through together, after all those times we’ve pulled your ass out of the fire, you think we need your protection, from getting- what did you say?- “caught in the cross fires” of a fight that we all have our own stakes in at this point, against a man who is by no means stupid enough to think that just because you’ve removed yourself from our company he can’t use us to manipulate you. But all of the stupid, idiotic, inconsiderate, illogical parts of that pile of horse shit cannot trump the fact that you didn’t bother to say goodbye to any of us- and what in the name of Darwin are you smirking at‽” Damian smiled up at her.

“I missed you,” he said. Shannon’s expression softened slightly.

“I missed you too, Pennies,” she walked over to the intercom on the other side of the room. “But you’re still an idiot.”

Damian chuckled at this as Shannon made an announcement. The intercom crackled and rang out at an obnoxious decibel. “Guys, he’s up.”

“They’ll be up soon,” Shannon said, apparently ready to let the others have their turn at yelling at him now. Damian attempted to sit up again to better brace himself for what was coming, but Shannon gave him a not so gentle push to the shoulder to keep him down.

As usual none of them wasted time knocking. Hank was the first to enter the room, looking appropriately uncomfortable but not outwardly hostile. Carson followed behind him, and the Penny Man noticed that the boy had grown about two inches since they last saw each other. When he saw Damian he smiled hesitantly and waved, calling out a “‘Sup Pennies?” in greeting. Damian had to suppress a chuckle, this kid. Azella was the last one through the door, wearing an expression of unconcealed contempt which made Damian gulp nervously. It had been a long since he was on the receiving end of that look, and now that he found himself there again he marveled at how he could have forgotten how terrifying it was.

“Well, well, the Penny Man, as I live and breath,” said Hank after a moment of silence, his tone seeped in mystified humor and awed perplexion.

“How’ve you been, Hank?” said Damian with a nod, followed immediately by a wince.

“... I’ve seen better days,” Hank replied, looking like he wanted to come forward and help Damian, but was unwilling to get close enough. Damian chuckled.

“Yeah, that’d be something we have in common.”

“I’d imagine so,” said Hank. They were working through their old patterns of conversation in a way that somehow screamed unnatural, like looking in a funhouse mirror. “You took one hell of a hit back there. Say what you will about the guy, but he sure can throw a punch like no one’s business,” Hank’s voice slowed towards the end of the sentence as he realized his mistake. The room turned icy and awkward again and would have remained so if Carson had not once again saved the social atmosphere.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know it to look at him, but dude can hit. I mean you should’ve seen it, Pennies, soon as his fist made contact you were out, I swear I saw stars swirling around your head or something, it was awesome.”

“Sure sounds it, Carson,” Damian laughed. “Certainly feels it,” he added, groaning as he shifted his head slightly.

“Aw, yeah man, we were worrying when we brought you in, James was all freakin’ out thinking he screwed you up long term ‘n shit, looked like he was gonna have a stroke or something the whole way back-” Azella cut him off with a hard stomp on his foot.

“Ow! Ummm, but, uh, mama says that he didn’t do anything permanent so, ah, ‘s all good.” he concluded.

“Carson,” said Shannon, in a manner that suggested her patience was being tested. “For the last time, I am not your mother, please refrain from referring to me as such.”

“You kiiiinda are though,” argued Carson. Shannon sighed.

“I am not getting into this with you again. Just go straighten up, or restock bandages, or something useful like that, okay kid?”

“Can do,” Carson said confidently, setting off to the cabinets with a smirk on his lips. Shannon stared after him for a moment, a small smile shining in her eyes.

Damian was unable to contain himself from asking his most pressing question.

“So... where is James?” he asked hesitantly.

Everyone in the room tensed noticeably.

“Said he needed a minute before he could come in,” said Carson in a falsely cheerful tone, trying to ease the tension. “If you ask me he’s out there fixing his hair. You know how it is, people always primp a bit before they see their-Ow!” this time Azella had cut him off with an elbow to the ribs.

“Stick a sock in it, would you,” she said.

“Why are you like this?” whimpered Carson.

“At any rate,” Hank stepped in before hostilities could rise any further. “He’ll be down in a minute or two; he just needed to get his bearings.”

“Consider them gotten,” called a high, clear voice from the lab’s entrance. All eyes whipped towards the speaker. “Sorry to interupt, but my ears were ringing, so I figured that was my cue to make an appearance.”

James stood before them all and, despite all he knew had changed, the Penny Man couldn’t help thinking how James looked very much the same as he had before. He had the same pale lean figure, the same fiery auburn hair illuminated like a glowing ember under the lab’s fluorescent lights, the same piercing blue green eyes that locked unflinchingly onto Damian from behind his glasses, the same red and peeling lips James chewed on nervously, the same defiant set of his jaw.

“Hello, Damian,” said James warily. The room’s atmosphere thickened, the impact of the moment leaving a tight compressed feeling in everyone’s chest.

“Hello, James,” replied Damian raspily, his throat tightening. The room was silent as the two held each other’s gaze, each of their eyes saying a thousand things that the other could not interpret and leaving a thousand other things unsaid.

“So,” said Shannon heavily, finally breaking the silence. “Are we prolonging the inevitable any longer, or shall we leave you two alone to talk?”

She looked to James to answer the question, who gnawed on his lips contemplatively before responding with a nod.

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

“You sure?” asked Azella, who had placed herself in between James and Damian in a not so subtle protective stance.

“I’m sure, Az,” James said, nodding. “Thanks,” he whispered to her. She hesitated slightly before leaving with the others.

“I’m betting about half an hour,” Carson muttered to Hank as the crew filtered out of the lab.

James and Damian stared at each other in awkward, tense silence, both unsure and hesitant to speak first.

“I… I’m sorry I hit you,” James said, looking at the ground as if the stain on it were a matter of interest and not the unspoken fear they all held towards it. Damian let out a mirthless chuckle.

“Don’t be,” he said. “‘S not like it’s anything permanent.” They lulled back into an uncomfortable silence. James took a deep breath.

“Look, I didn’t come here to make you feel guilty, Damian, I’m sure you’ve been doing that just fine on your own. I just… all I…” he took another deep breath and released it in a sigh. “Are you back now?”

“... I don’t know,” Damian replied honestly. James seemed unsatisfied with this answer. “Would I be welcome back?”

James let out a contemplative chuckle and gave Damian a half shrug.

“I don’t know,” he replied, just as honestly.

“Glad we understand each other,” said Damian. James’s lips twitched.

“Why were you at Maya Johnson’s apartment?” asked James, choosing to move straight to business.

“I was investigating a case brought to me by an old colleague of hers,” said the Penny Man. “Lowkey disappearance, or so I thought at the time. And you?”

James glanced downwards, chewing at the corner of his lip in the thoughtful way he always did.

“We had been trying to figure out how she was connected to Eric’s latest scheme,” he said.

“What drove you down that trail?” Damian asked.

“We, ah, ran into each other about a month back,” said James. “Said he needed to have a word with me.”

“Say what you will about Eric, but he always stays in touch,” scoffed Damian.

“You’ve seen him to?” asked James, his voice suddenly strained.

“About the case,” Damian explained. “He didn’t want me to pursue it.”

“What a coincidence,” said James. “He came to me about something very similar. Said that as amused as he was by my continued penchant for poking my nose into other people’s business it would be in my best interest to sit this one out. I had no clue what he was talking about, and I told him as much, but of course he didn’t buy it at first. He didn’t give away much before he realized he’d made a mistake, but there was enough for us to launch an investigation, slow going though it was.”

“What did he tell you?” asked Damian.

“That he didn’t appreciate me snooping around in his private files, and that I could either stop on my own or be stopped as soon as he figured out how I was doing it,” James said. “He also made it abundantly clear that getting involved with whatever was in those files would be bad for my “already fragile health.”” Damian’s hands clenched into fists.

“So from that point it was a matter of finding who was hacking Eric’s files, hopefully beating them to the punch, and then figuring out a way to handle whatever he was so concerned with keeping hidden.”

“Must’ve taken you awhile to get a lead,” Damian commented.

“Well I knew that anyone who’s work Eric mistook for mine must have been excellent, so we limited the search to the professional field, which is not particularly extensive in this area,” James said. “Even so, she was difficult to catch; she covered her tracks well, impressively so.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. Maya must have truly been something special to evoke praise from James.

“I contacted her when I was finally able to track her down and arranged a meeting. We were going to her apartment to find out what she knows and offer her protection, but when we got there the place had been trashed and there was no sign of her. That was when we heard some one else come into the apartment. We knew she was being watched, so we waited out in the alley, figuring it was one of Eric’s people in there, and when we saw the guy come out I hit him, but then he turned out to be you, and… have I mentioned that I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Damian repeated. “I’ve always said a good whack to the back of the head now and then gives you a clearer perspective.”

James, for a moment forgetting himself, chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly.

“You are an outrageous, impossible man, Damian,” he sighed.

“So you’ve said,” agreed Damian. “Though there was a time you made it sound like a bad thing.”

James hummed and folded his arms over his chest. “Not bad so much as exasperating.”

“I can live with that,” Damian said after a moment of consideration. James was chewing on his lip again, staring fixedly at Damian for a moment before clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away.

“So did you find anything? Back at the apartment, I mean,” asked James.

“In fact I did,” said the Penny Man. His eyes cast about the room in search of his jacket and found it draped over the back of Shannon’s computer chair. He stood to go get it, the sudden movement causing his head to swim. He sank back down, gripping the side of the cot for balance as the dizziness passed. James instinctualy reached out to help him, but withdrew his hands just as quickly.

Damian stood slowly and crossed the room to get his coat, rooting around in his pockets for his phone, a muted metallic clinking emitting from the fabric. He unlocked the phone and scrolled through the photos, handing it to James when he found the picture he had taken of Maya’s hidden message.

“I have the information you need, meet me at the old train yard…” James mouthed as he read, his lips forming a small frown as they shaped the words. “Oh, that poor girl. She must be so terrified,” James mumbled, almost to himself.

While James was reading Damian had located his shirt and tugged it back on over his head. The maroon fabric was cool in contrast to the sweltering heat of the room. The lab’s heating system seemed to be as unpredictable as ever, the Penny Man observed. It was always either unbearably hot or bone chillingly cold.

James walked over to the intercom panel on the left side of the room, gnawing on his lower lip as he went. He pressed the button on the speaker, a violent cracking noise sounded throughout the building, ringing in everyone’s ears.

“Guys, come on back up to the lab,” James said.  “There’s some important information about the case that we need to touch base about.”

James slid the phone back over to Damian and stalked over to the white board, scrawling out Maya’s message in his inelegant handwriting.

The rest of the crew entered from the stairwell, their faces shining with curiosity.

“What’ve you got?” asked Shannon, eyes flickering to Damian, although the question had been directed at James.

“Damian found a hidden message at Maya Johnson’s apartment,” James said, directing their attention to the white board. “By the looks of things, Eric got a little too close for comfort and she bolted. Our meeting’s been rescheduled.”

“How did you find this?” asked Hank.

“Blacklight,” said Damian.

“The old train yard?” asked Carson. “Why’d she want to meet up there?”

“It’s well out of the public eye, good hiding space; plus there’s less of a risk of civilian casualties if you’re expecting a fight, which from the looks of things she is,” said the Penny Man.

“If Eric is closing in on her then that’s a pretty fair assumption,” said Hank.

“Can’t you contact her to find out what happened?” Azella asked James.

“I’ll try, but there’s a good chance she’ll be completely freezing everything out to keep a low profile. That’s what I’d do,” said James.

“So we’re going to have to play this on her terms?” asked Hank.

“Looks that way,” replied James tensely. As dangerous as they all knew it was playing this game on Eric’s terms, it was far more dubious when dictated by an amature.

“Great,” said Shannon. “We finally get a lead, and Eric chases away our only witness.”

“And now we’re stuck sitting on our asses until that meeting,” agreed Azella. “Who knows what Eric could accomplish in that time.”

“What can we do till then?” asked Carson.

“Well, I guess we sleep first,” said James, looking at his watch. “It’s past midnight and I’ve been up since four.”

“The coffee pot’s still working, right?” Damian asked. James snorted.

“You haven’t changed much,” he said. “Yes, it still works, but the rest of us try to maintain sleep schedules that are a bit more involved than ‘drink coffee till I crash.’ Jesus, no wonder you slept half the day.’

The rest of the crew had started to wander off, veering towards the stairs. James began chewing on his lip again.

“Your, uh, your room is exactly how you left it,” he said. “We haven’t… no one’s been in there for a few months.”

“Oh,” Damian said, a sudden rush of disappointment sweeping swiftly over him. He supposed it had been slightly senseless to assume that James would have continued sleeping there after Damian had left, but a part of the Penny Man had thought, maybe even hoped, that he had.

“I-I mean, if you wanted to use it,” James explained. “I don’t know where you’ve been sleeping lately, but since our two cases are kind of mixed up now, and we’re probably going to talk about it more tomorrow, it might be good for you to be somewhere close by.”

“Thank you, I think I’ll stay,” Damian said. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Well it’s not like we could stop you, it is technically your building,” James said.

“I signed over partial ownership to each of you a few years ago,” Damian admitted casually. “Technically it’s all of our building.”

James stared open mouthed at Damian for a moment.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I really need to start taking a closer look at my tax report,” he muttered. Damian chuckled.

“Don’t worry, it’s set up so that the payment for everything still falls on me.”

They were walking towards the elevator. Their hands bumped against each other as they both reached for the button. James withdrew his hand like it had been shocked and then coughed awkwardly as they stepped inside. Damian reached for the button for the top floor while James pressed the one lowest on the panel. Damian raised his eyebrow.

“You moved back into the basement?” he questioned. James blushed slightly.

“Yeah, um, you know, it was in good order, and familiar, and-”

“Freezing cold,” Damian cut him off. “Isn’t that why you moved up out of there in the first place?”

James’s lip gave a slight twitch.

“It was the excuse you gave as to why I should move out, though  I suspect you had motivations other than a faulty heating system for asking me to move into your room,” he said to Damian.

“Who, me? Why, sir, you insult my honor!” Damian declared in mock indignation. James laughed.

They stood together in a silence that had no right to be as comfortable as it was. The atmosphere was oddly nostalgic.

“You know… you could have stayed in our room,” Damian said. James tensed, coming back to himself.

“No, I couldn’t have,” he said, eyes trained on the floor.

“Well, I just-”

“Damian how could I have gone into that room every night without being reminded of everything that we were? Everything that you threw away when you left.”

“... I didn’t-” Damian started.

“You did, Damian, you left! You left when you were most needed, and for what?” James snapped.

“I was just trying to protect you,” Damian said quietly.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” James scoffed.

“It’s the truth,” Damian said, his jaw clenched tightly. James’s whole body whipped towards Damian.

“The hell it is, Damian! You might be able to fool Shannon and the others, and you might even be able to fool yourself into thinking that’s why you left, but I know you enough to know that you weren’t scared about me being hurt, you were scared that seeing me hurt would hurt you!” James shouted. “You’re not an idiot, Damian! You knew that leaving wouldn’t trick Eric into thinking he couldn’t use us against you! You left so that you wouldn’t have to take the inherent risk that comes with caring about people! You left because you couldn’t handle being vulnerable! You come in here and talk about wanting to protect me, when it was yourself you were trying to protect!”

“James, I-”

“I was in a coma, Damian!” James screamed. “That maniac put me in a coma and your first instinct was to run and hide so that you wouldn’t have to face the fact that that the people you claim to care about are blood and bones and entirely breakable! You ran and when I… when I woke up and you were gone I… I-I couldn’t…”

The elevator door jolted open and the lights flickered, something they always did when the car reached the basement. James took a deep, steadying breath.

“Good night Damian,” he said, not looking back at the Penny Man as he stepped into the cold tiled hallway.

Damian stared after him. Even after the elevator doors creaked closed, he remained unmoving. Eventually the doors reopened and he shuffled off to the room that had been his. It did, indeed, seem as though it had been untouched, but Damian didn’t spend much time examining it. Perhaps he would in the morning, but his head was simply too full now. He flopped ungracefully onto the bed and buried his face in the pillows. They smelt of dust, and Damian, and, very faintly, of James. Damian drifted off to sleep, tears trailing down his face as he inhaled the sent.

The next day Damian awoke feeling unusually stiff, despite the fact that the bed was the most comfortable place he’d slept in months. He glanced around the room, taking it all in. It was just as he’d left it, though considerably more dusty. There were drawers thrown open and clothes scattered about at random as though someone had packed in a hurry.

Damian walked over to the closet and opened the door, then promptly shut it again. James hadn’t even come up to take his clothes. Damian slowly opened the door again and pulled out the blue shirt he’d been looking for for weeks and a pair of dark pants. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror as he dressed and turned away, feeling nauseous.

He pulled his jacket on as he left the room, passing the elevator on his way towards the stairs.

The kitchen was nearly full when Damian got there, only Carson and James were missing from the small space. Damian silently shuffled towards the coffee pot, nodding at Shannon and Hank as he passed; Azella’s expression dissuading him from doing the same to her. Shannon raised an eyebrow at Damian, and he just shook his head. She sighed slightly but let it go, taking a sip of her coffee.

James stepped into the room and the already heavy atmosphere grew noticeably thicker. He hesitated for half a second when he saw Damian, but clenched his jaw and continued into the room.

The silence was oppressive. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, thought Damian. It was supposed to be full of random chit-chat, and inside jokes, and well meaning teasing, and light, and life. It was supposed to be full of the warmth and familiarity of friendship, of family. Damian wasn’t sure if it was his return or his actions all those months ago that had broken what they used to be. It pained him to imagine the crew sitting here in stifling solemn silence as they hoped for James to wake up, for Damian to return, for some sort of repair to be made, solution to be found.

Damian was not the only one feeling the weight of the atmosphere. Hank cleared his throat uncomfortably and attempted to start up a conversation.

“So, uh, how’s… how’s everybody been? Anything interesting happen lately? Shannon?”

Shannon shook her head and began rubbing the side of her temple.

“Apart from the obvious, no, nothing new.”

“Okay then,” Hank said, deflating slightly. “How ‘bout, uh-” his eyes looked towards Damian, but he seemed to realize that wasn’t the wisest path of conversation to follow. “Azella! What’s new with you?” It was as if he had clipped the wrong wire while attempting to defuse a bomb.

“Are you really going to just sit here and pretend like everything is normal?” she snapped.

“Az,” said Shannon.

“No, really, are we all supposed to just act like what happened last fall doesn’t matter? That what he did was okay? I don’t understand how you guys can stand to look at him after what he did to us, to James.” Damian and James both flinched at that remark.

“Azella, could you for once just behave like an adult?” snapped Shannon. “Nobody in here has forgotten what happened, the rest of us just realize that there are more important things to worry about right now.”

“Figures you’d take his side,” scoffed Azella.

“That’s not fair-” started Shannon.

“No! What’s not fair is the fact that you’re still defending him!” Azella shouted.

“I have to go,” said Damian suddenly, draining the last of his coffee and slamming his mug on the counter. “I’m going to see one of my informants and ask if she knows anything about what we’re up against.”

“Damian,” said James softly, feeling irrationally like he should be apologizing.

“I’ll be back before dark,” the Penny Man called over his shoulder as he left the room. James stared after him with a sharp pang in his heart.

“Why would you do that?” Hank snapped at Azella. “He’s just come back and now you’re going to drive him away again.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” asked Azella. “It clearly doesn’t take much to send him running. We’re better off without him.”

“Are you crazy? He’s our best chance at stopping Eric, which, in case you’ve forgotten, is what got us all into this damn mess in the first place!” yelled Hank.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like you don’t even care that he walked out on all of us!”

“And you don’t seem to care that we need him,” said Shannon angrily. “It hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing for us since he left.”

“So he shows up again and what? You think everything will just go back to how it was before? And what was so great about all of that? At least now we trust each other enough to actually share the information we find!”

“Now hold on a second,” Hank interjected. “Damian might not be the most trusting guy, but he’s never steered us wrong before.”

“He’s gotten you shot multiple times!”

The three of them continued to argue as James looked on, an ugly nauseous feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Would everybody shut the hell up!” he shouted, startling the others into silence. “Az. none of us have forgiven Damian for what he’s done, we’re just choosing not to make life more difficult for everybody by antagonizing him. Hank, Shannon, you two need to realize that not everyone is as prepared as you to put aside their feelings to get the job done. And for God’s sake, you all need to stop shouting at each other like it’ll solve a damn thing!”

The four of them stood in a moment of tense silence which was broken by Carson entering the room dressed in boxers and an old t-shirt.

“Yo fam,” he said sleepily, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. He glanced at the clenched jaws and narrowed eyes of his friends in confusion. “What’d I miss?”

Damian was by no means a stranger to this part of town, no more so than he was to the building he just left, but he had not been here for months, longer than he’d been away from the crew. He knew better than to think that his informant would overlook that, but he had still expected a slightly warmer greeting than the one he received.

He walked down the damp street, light drops of rain hitting the back of his neck as he approached the worn down storefront. The Penny Man ignored the familiar faded sign by the door, which depicted a crystal ball and read “Madam Ramirez: Psychic Extraordinaire!” in gaudy purple letters.

Damian stepped forwards, reaching his hand up to the door to knock. Just as his fist was about to make contact, the door flew open, and before Damian could register anything but its high pitched creeking, a highly manicured hand reached out and slapped him harshly across the face.

The door slammed loudly against the wall as Damian held his face in shock. That was two times in as many days that he’d been smacked; not even close to a record for him, but still upsetting statistics.

He looked up at his assailant. She was a natural beauty underneath a heavy amount of makeup; dark mysterious eyes enveloped in shadow, defined cheekbones highlighted in blush, full lips colored deep red, dark complexion glowing subtly as she scowled at her guest.

“Hello, Maria,” muttered Damian. “Long time no see.”

She looked as though she was tempted to slap him again, but she merely stood aside and pointed inwards, commanding him to enter the store.

The walls of the store’s interior were lined with drapes and beads. The shelves were piled with stacks of old books, crystal talismans, and bottles of brightly colored solutions, which Damian had long suspected to be an assortment of cleaning fluids. There was a human skull perched on top of a stack of books, which Maria claimed once belonged to a man who had wronged her. Judging by the look currently aimed his way Damian didn’t have much trouble believing it.

She stood behind an ornate chair at the round table in the center of the room and stared pointedly at the one across from it. Damian sat down across from her as she placed her hands on the back of the chair in front of her. There was a crystal ball positioned at the center of the table.

“You look gorgeous,” Damian commented after a moment of cold silence. The complement did not soften her.

“This is not news to me,” she said; her smooth alluring voice sharper than a knife. “Your stupidity is not news to me either, though the extent to which you have let it control you disturbs me greatly.”

Damian inhaled deeply.

“I didn’t come here to talk about my personal life.”

“Do not insult me, Penny Man,” she snapped fiercely. “I know why you have come, but I shall not comply until I have said my piece.”

Damian was silent.

“You are a coward, Damian Grey,” said Maria, staring at him with cold, stormy eyes. “You are a man who has caused pain for those he loves to spare himself from it. You are a man for whom safety and control hold more value than love or loyalty. You are a man who makes himself out to be great, to be a hero, but who is in practice no greater, no more heroic than a rat. You are a man who has made those who once admired him above all others ashamed to know him. You are not the man I once knew, once loved. Not the man he once loved. Or perhaps you have always been this man, and we have simply been naive; perhaps you have always had more brain than heart. For what you have done there is no suitable punishment, yet do not believe for a moment that one will not come, and do not suppose to know what shape it will take, for betrayed love begets lost love, and the loss of a love you never truly had often cuts the deepest.”

Her words hung in the air between them, poisoning it with promise and dread.

“That was harsh,” Damian said, swallowing the lump in his throat. Maria melted very slightly at this, her tense shoulders relaxing and her lips just barely forming a familiar smirk.

“Necessarily so,” she replied. “When the universe wants a message delivered it is not for me to sugar coat it.”

“Mm,” Damian hummed, unimpressed. “And does the “universe” also require their message to be delivered with such vigor and spite?”

“No, I claim full credit for that.” She sat down in her chair and smiled at him over the top of her crystal ball, her easy nature once again returning to her. “Now, you came to ask me something, I believe?” she asked, most traces of her vengeful mood vanished.

“I came to ask you for information,” Damian said.

“Naturally,” she said. “I assume this has to do with Maya Johnson’s disappearance?”

“Word travels fast,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“To those of us who keep our ears open,” she said, smirking. “To be honest, I was almost surprised it took this long for one of you to contact me about this. Then again, James has never been entirely comfortable around me.”

“He comes from a religious family,” Damian said. “What you do… unsettles him.”

“Hm,” Maria hummed, unaffected. “Perhaps I flattered myself by thinking it was because he felt threatened by me.”

“Well, even if that was so, it hardly matters now. That’s all in the past,” Damian said, trying to change the topic. He had come here in part to avoid James, having him be the main topic of conversation was counterproductive. Maria scoffed at him.

“Pennies, for as smart as you are, you can be unbearably naive,” her voice was almost fond.

“Can we focus on the matter at hand, please?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, mon chéri,” she replied, fixing him with her penetrating gaze.

“Maria,” he pleaded. She considered him for a moment longer.

“Very well,” she sighed. “I cannot give you the What or the Who, those will come to you in their own time, you already know something of the When, Where, and How, so I assume you have come to me for the Why.”

“The Why?” asked Damian, leaning forwards in his chair.

“The Why,” Maria confirmed. “Why Maya Johnson was so disturbed by what she discovered, why it is so important that this information stays hidden, and why your adversary is so keen to keep you out of this.”

“Any information you have to give would be greatly appreciated,” said Damian. Maria chuckled ruefully.

“I have much, but can give little,” she said, quite possibly to herself. “Your Eric had several motives for warding you away, many neither of you believe him capable of; but the chief among them is that he fears interference with that which he is already struggling to maintain.” Her eyes had a dreamy quality to them as she spoke, as though she were focused intently on something far away, or viewing something that was not in front of her. Damian admired her commitment to her act.

“You’re saying he’s in over his head?” the Penny Man asked.

“Oh, yes,” Maria nodded. “More so than even he realizes. I’m afraid that your Eric is not entirely in control of his current journey.”

“Then who is?” Damian prompted.

“It is not yet time for the answer,” she replied, her eyes becoming more distant. “The unseen hand will reveal itself when the time comes.”

“Is that what Maya found in those files?” the Penny Man asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Maya Johnson fears that that which is a threat to many, that which as of yet is unclear, shrouded, lurking, hidden from those who have so long searched for it. Their plans cannot yet be revealed. Not yet, but soon.”

The room was suddenly still. A slight emptiness rang through the air, as though it had been filled with a gentle humming, only identified by its absence.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I have for you,” said Maria, the fog clearing from her eyes. Damian nodded.

“Thank you, Maria, that will be very helpful.”

“Only if you use it properly, and I pray that you will,” she said.

They both knew that she had not told him everything. There was something that she’d left out, something big. He could see it in her eyes, just as he could see her determination to keep whatever it was away from him.

“What else is there, Maria?” he asked futilely.

“There is nothing else. That was all I had,” she said, though she could see he knew it wasn’t true. “You ought to get back to the office, share this with the others.” Damian lingered in his seat, turning his eyes towards the floor.

“Really, Pennies?” Maria said, raising an eyebrow at his hesitation. “The great Damian Grey is hiding from his friends? This didn’t exactly work out for you the last time.” Damian remained seated, casting her a pleading glance. She sighed. “There’s coffee in the back.”

“Thank you,” Damian said, grinning as he went to fetch them drinks.

“Just one cup,” Maria called back to him. “Then you’re out of here.”

Damian came back in with the cups, placing one down in front of Maria. They had known each other long enough for him to have committed her preference to memory. Damian thought you could tell a lot about a person by the way they took their coffee. Maria had hers with two spoonfuls of sugar and half the cup filled with cream, and caramel flavoring if she could get it. Damian drank his black.

“If you are going to occupy my time, then I will be dictating the conversation,” said Maria as Damian settled back into his seat. The Penny Man took a long sip of coffee.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said reluctantly. Maria smirked almost imperceptibly.

“When did you get back to the others?” she asked, staring at him over the rim of her cup.

“Just yesterday,” Damian said. “James accidentally knocked me unconscious and they had to bring me back to the office for Shannon to take a look at.”

“Are we sure it was accidentally?” Maria mused.

“He didn’t know it was me,” Damian glared. “I was facing away from him.” Maria raised her hands in acquiescence.

“Anyways, I got there, and we caught each other up on everything we knew,” said Damian.

“Are you back with them now?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said. Maria raised her eyebrow at him dubiously.

“Well they could certainly use the extra help, what with James’s condition,” she replied. Damian bit his lip hesitantly.

“How… how is his condition?” he asked.

“They didn’t tell you?” Maria questioned.

“I didn’t feel like I was welcome to ask,” the Penny Man told her.

Maria observed his obvious turmoil over the matter and took pity on him.

“He woke up after about three weeks,” she said. “By some miracle there was no permanent damage from the coma, but because of the severity of his injuries it didn’t look like he was going to make it. The main area of concern was his lung, which had been punctured by one of his ribs. Luckily Shannon found a way to reset it without the proper equipment when he came in, but it was only a temporary fix and had to be redone once he woke up. He had some minor loss of motor functions, which he has since regained, however he still experiences headaches from time to time. For the first few weeks after he woke up he was having some… memory loss issues.” She paused solemnly at this, looking down into her cup.

“What do you mean?” Damian asked. She looked at him with a mixture of resentment and pity.

“He kept forgetting you were gone,” she whispered reluctantly. Damian’s heart plummeted into his stomach and he let out a shaky breath.

“Physically he is more or less back to normal,” Maria declared, draining the rest of her coffee like she was wishing for something stronger. “Emotionally, however, he will need much longer to heal.” She fixed him with her piercing gaze again, looking at him as though she could see into the very depths of his soul, and yet still found herself confused by him. Damian felt the force of her stare prickle his skin.

“Thank you for the coffee, Maria,” he said, abruptly rising from the table. “And thank you for the information.”

“Like I said, Pennies,” said Maria as Damian made his way to the door. “I pray that you will use it.”

After a long walk through the steadily increasing rainfall, Damian returned to the office, taking in its appearance as he approached it. The building was made of old bricks colored a dull brown that had been largely chipped and faded. It was four floors high, not including the basement, but still seemed short somehow, hunched in on itself. It creaked and sagged as the cold February rain whipped and lashed at it. The sign above the door was unassuming but maintained with pride, or at least it had been once. It read “The Penny Man, Private Detective Agency” in simple black font, which James and Shannon had insisted was “elegant” and “sophisticated”. Carson had once said it was boring. Damian had privately thought that the boy had a point, but knew better than to voice that opinion. There was a rickety fire escape along the side of the building, which was probably more of a hazard than a safety precaution at this point. The building looked entirely unremarkable, which had been what they were aiming for.

Everytime he saw this building, Damian couldn’t help but think how different it had looked when his father had owned it. It had been well maintained then, polished, even. Damian had neglected the building after his father’s death; he hadn’t spared it a thought until the crew decided they needed somewhere to center their operation. That had been years ago.

Damian pulled the door open and walked inside, shaking off the rain. He still carried his key card with him, despite the fact that it was useless; the security system was completely shot.

James was waiting in the lobby, chewing his lip and pacing back and forth, staring at the floor. His head whipped up at the sound of the Penny Man’s entrance.

“Damian,” he said in a voice just shy of relief.

“Maria sends her love,” said Damian.

“She send anything else?” James asked, curiosity overtaking concern.

“Apparently Eric has found himself a partner in crime.”

James rose his eyebrows in shock.

“That’s… unexpected,” he said apprehensively. “She mention who?”

“She didn’t know,” Damian called over his shoulder as he walked towards the intercom. The loud disconcerting crack of the machine rang out as he pressed the button. “Everybody meet up in the lab,” Damian said into the microphone.

“New player, then?” James asked as the two of them made their way towards the elevator.

“A nasty one to hear Maria tell it. Too nasty for Eric to handle.” James frowned.

“Don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered.

The elevator’s rusty doors groaned shut and they began sluggishly crawling upwards. The air was suddenly tense, the scene too reminiscent of last night for either of their taste.

“Damian… about last night,” James began, giving into the insistence of the oppressive silence. “What I said was-”

“Entirely accurate,” Damian cut him off. “And kinder than I deserved.” James chewed on his lip.

“James what I did was… there’s no excuse for it. I abandoned you when you needed me most. You deserve so much better than that… you deserve so much better than me.”

“Damian,” James whispered, barely audible over the clanking and grinding of the elevator’s gears.

“I… I wish I were as strong as you needed me to be. I wish I were as strong as the world wants me to be, but I… I’m just not. I try so hard to be, but every time I feel like I’m getting close to the man everyone thinks I am… every time, something happens to prove me wrong, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep trying. Strong enough to keep failing.”

“Damian,” James whispered again, stepping forwards and taking Damian’s face in his hands. He ran his thumbs along Damian’s cheeks, wiping away the wetness that had collected there. When had he started crying?

James opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, a pained look reflected in his shining eyes. No sound came out. James had no words with which to comfort Damian, so he did so another way. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Damian’s, firm and unmoving.

Damian’s heart rate speed up. James’s lips were dry and chapped and warm and just like Damian had tried so hard to forget. James held his face firmly in his hands, trying desperately to convey to Damian every ounce of feeling he had been holding back for months; hurt, betrayal, anger, loneliness. Damian reached out to James gently, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to. He rested one hand on James’s waist, bringing the other to thread loosely in his tangled mess of auburn hair.

They pulled each other closer until they were pressed tightly against one another, the solid contact of their bodies a grounding point as both of their heads swam from the intensity of what they were feeling. Neither one had realized how starved they had been for human contact, the full force of it hitting them now in a desperate need to just be held, and to hold, and to simply break out of the prison of solitude they had enclosed themselves in.

The shimmering spell of the moment was broken with the sharp ding of the elevator, going off like a siren as the rusted doors creaked open. Damian and James broke apart at the sound, rushing to put distance between them and fooling exactly no one.

Everyone’s faces showed some mixture of shock and confusion, and in Azella’s case, anger. Except for Carson, who wore a smug smirk on his face.

“Called it,” he said cockily, before turning back to the others and declaring “Y’all owe me twenty bucks.”

“Carson,” Shannon admonished in a strained voice. Carson held up his hands defensively, but didn’t say another word. Shannon shot Damian a look that said they were going to talk about this later. Azella shot a similar, though considerably more aggressive look towards James, before turning the full force of her death glare back on Damian. Hank just looked uncomfortable and was avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“So… uh… What’d you find out from Maria?” he offered up to the stifling silence.

Damian ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat, attempting to clear his head without much success.

“Right,” he said. “Well, she didn’t have many details, not that she could give anyways, but she did tell me that Eric isn’t the one running the show any more; he’s got some sort of partner that’s in on it.”

“What?” Shannon asked, focus now fully on the case. “He’s never aligned himself with anyone before; who’s he working with?”

“New player,” said James.

“One hard enough to run with Eric?” asked Carson.

“Too hard for him to handle,” Damian said. “That’s why he’s been trying so hard to keep us out of this. Whatever it is he and his partner are working on, Eric’s having trouble keeping the lid on it.”

“That’s… troubling,” Hank said.

“That’s why it’s imperative we get to Maya Johnson before Eric does and find out what she knows. Whatever Eric and his partner are planning, it’s something big; we’re gonna want as much of a head start as possible when it comes to stopping it,” said Damian.

“I’m gonna head down stairs to see if I can contact Maya to move things along. Other than that I don’t think there’s much we can do but stay alert,” said James. “I know things seem bleak, guys, but remember; this is Eric we’re up against. We’ve beaten him before and we’ll beat him again, no matter what happens.”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright, James?” asked Hank.

“Yeah, man, last time you saw him, you-”

“I’ll be fine,” said James, cutting Carson off. “Like I said, we beat him before, we’ll beat him again. You can all go back to what you were doing, but stay alert; if I get through to Maya we’ll have to move out at a moment’s notice.”

Damian observed the way James took command of the room, the way the crew responded, the fierce loyalty that shined in each of their eyes as James offered direction and reassurance. How many times had Damian taken that look for granted when it was directed at him? The look on James’s face, however, was one he didn’t recognise. It was a look of determination, a look of control. It was the look of a born leader. It made Damian’s heart pound a little bit harder in his chest.

The detective agency had been James’s idea from the beginning, an idea that Damian had been vehemently against initially. When he first met James and most of the others Damian was at a low point in his life. He had been doing detective work on his own for a small amount of time and, though to this day he would not admit it, he was in vastly over his head. He knew a few people he would go to for help in areas where his skills were lacking, which was how he’d ended up meeting James. The Penny Man had been looking for someone good with computers to help him track Eric’s latest scheme, but was coming up blank. He mentioned his issue to one of his old college friends, an investigative reporter in a nearby city, who’d told Damian that she had a cousin who works in programing. Thus began Damian’s long and complicated relationship with James Helton.

Damian’s feet had carried him without his notice, too caught up in his recollections to realize he had walked to the roof ladder. He grabbed onto the rusted creaking rungs and climbed up. He’d always found the roof of the building to be a good place to think, something he desperately needed to do at the moment. Why had James kissed him? What had the kiss meant? What did he want it to mean? How had they come to this point? He walked towards the edge of the building and sat down, legs dangling off of the side as he considered the clustered mess his life had become. He wasn’t given much time to think through his emotions, though, as the sound of someone ascending the ladder soon reached his ears.

Glancing over his shoulder, Damian saw Shannon approaching him, stern den mother look firmly in place. Damian nodded for her to sit at the spot next to him and then continued to look out over the skyline of the city. Shannon sat down next to him, her body turned to face him, one leg hanging over the side of the building, the other crossed over it. Her dark eyes stared at Damian, waiting.

“What up, Pennies?” she prompted when he remained silent.

Damian sighed.

“Wish I could tell ya, Shan,” he muttered. “‘M at a bit of a loss on that myself.”

“You kissed him,” Shannon stated. Damian shook his head.

“He kissed me.” Shannon’s eyebrows rose in consideration.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” sighed Damian.

“Has he forgiven you?” Shannon pushed.

“I don’t think so,” Damian replied, reaching into his coat pocket.

“Have you forgiven you?”

“Definitely not.” Damian had found what he was looking for in his pocket; he pulled out the cigarette and placed it between his lips before searching for his lighter.

“Thought you quit,” Shannon commented, with poorly disguised disapproval.

“It’s been a rough couple of months,” said Damian, holding the lighter to the end of the cigarette. “‘Sides, I only quit because James made me.” Shannon smiled softly and hummed.

“Remember the day he flushed all your cigarettes down the toilet?” she asked.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Damian groaned, drawing on his cigarette.

“And you were too dumbstruck to even yell at him for it, so you just gaped like a fish for twenty minutes,” Shannon laughed, ignoring Damian’s response.

“Where has the time gone?” she sighed.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Damian shrugged.

James raced down the stairs, determinedly not looking at the elevator as he passed it, pushing forwards until he reached his room. The basement wasn’t much to look at. It was… well it was a dump. But to be fair, the entire building was a dump, so James justified the state of his room as a consistency of aesthetic. Either that or he was too busy to clean.

Just as he began to make his way towards his computer, James was interrupted by an intruder.

“What the hell was that?” Azella asked, walking towards James.

“Az, won’t you come in,” James muttered as she walked past him and plopped herself down on his bed. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“Shut up and talk, Helton,” she snapped.

“How can I shut up and talk at the same time?” he asked evasively. Azella growled at him.

“Alright, alright,” James said, chewing on his lip nervously as he sat down next to her. “Shoot.”

“The elevator,” she said.

“The elevator,” James agreed.

“You and Pennies,”

“Me and Damian,”

“He kissed you,” Azella said.

“No,” said James, staring at the floor. “I kissed him.” Azella rose her eyebrows.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” James sighed.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know,” James said, dragging a hand over his face and running it through his tousled hair. “It just sort of… happened?”

“Seriously?” Azella deadpanned. “You kiss the guy who ran out on you while you were in a coma, and the only reason you could think of as to why that happened is “just because”?”

James groaned and collapsed back onto the bed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt another headache forming over his left eye.

“Well when you put it that way, it sounds-”

“Idiotic?” Azella offered.

“Look, there are more important things to be focusing on right now than all of this,” James said. “I’ve got to try and contact Maya.” He reached over and grabbed his laptop from the desk.

“Oh no,” said Azella, shoving the laptop out of his hands. “This isn’t your family reunion; we’re not doing the whole repressive, ignore the elephant in the room thing. We’re talking this shit out.”

“Az, please, I’ve got to-”

“Do you still love him?” James froze.

“Please don’t make me answer that,” James said quietly, almost meekly.

“James,” Azella said, looking at him earnestly.

“Are you still in love with Damian?”

“Do you still love him?” Shannon asked Damian in a tender voice. Damian’s eyes flickered towards her before returning his gaze towards the skyline, taking another long drag from his cigarette. Shannon waited patiently for his reply.

“Of course I do,” said the Penny Man, his voice raw with repressed passion and emotion.

Shannon looked at him with a mixture of understanding and pity. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Damian’s shoulder. The Penny Man acknowledged the gesture by placing his hand on top off hers. The two sat in silence for a few moments.

“Do you remember the first time we came up here?” Shannon asked, gazing over the city, a wistful twinkle in her voice to match the glittering lights of the buildings. A ghost of a smile appeared on Damian’s lips as he recalled.

“I had just moved to America with my father,” he said. “I was four, none of the other kids would talk to me because of my accent. Except for you. I showed you the roof of my father’s building to try and impress you, forgetting that I was scared of heights. You laughed so loud that my father heard you and caught us. You were the first friend I made here. The best one, too.”

They both smiled at the memory.

“How on Earth did we get from there to here?” Shannon asked, maybe to Damian, maybe to herself, or maybe to the indifferent void of space looming above them.

“Alright, enough of this nostalgia crap,” said Shannon after a few long moments of silence. She shifted over to face him completely. “What’s your plan?”

“My plan?” the Penny Man asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Your plan to get James back,” Shannon elaborated.

“There isn’t one,” Damian said, visibly deflating at the implication.

“Bull shit there isn’t,” said Shannon, waving a dismissive hand at his words. “I’ve known you since they called you the Penny Boy, you always have a plan.”

“Not always,” Damian said. “And you were the only one who called me that.”

“To your face,” Shannon shot back. “Seriously, though, what’s the plan and how do I help?”

“There’s not a plan, and you don't,” Damian said, turning away from her. “He’s better off without me.”

“Now, see, it was that exact mentality that got you into this mess in the first place,” said Shannon as she moved back into her friend’s field of vision, refusing to be ignored. “And we’ve already concluded that the logic behind it was faulty.”

“We’ve concluded that not being with me doesn’t keep anyone out of danger. We did not, however, say jack about the emotional land mine lurking beneath the surface of this topic of conversation, which I have determined to be too great a risk to attempt crossing, as there is no way to manage it without something blowing up in my face.” Damian spun completely around so his back was to Shannon.

“And not being together will just be a walk in the park for both of you, right?” Shannon quipped, leaning her head over Damian’s shoulder in a continued effort to capture his attention. “Especially now that you’re back with us.”

“I'm not even sure that I am back,” Damian said, smiling slightly as he dodged her.

“Well I sure as hell am, and if you think for a minute that you’re about to run out on us again, then I might have been wrong about you not being concussed.”

Damian rolled his eyes and tried to pull away from Shannon, who had grabbed his shoulders and was shaking him from side to side.

“Pennineeesss,” she wailed dramatically. “What’s the plaaaaaann?”

Damian laughed despite himself, and rolled to the side to shake her off.

“The plan,” he said as he stretched out on the roof, eyes now on the near starless sky. “Is to play it by ear, see what direction this,” he gestured vaguely with his hands. “Whatever goes in, and figure out where to go from there.”

Shannon laid down next to Damian, considering his words.

“It’s a plan,” she said after a moment. “Not a good plan, but a plan.” Damian playfully punched her shoulder, muttering an affectionate

“Jerk.”

The two lay there in comfortable silence, looking up at the stars through the rain, until they were interrupted by the sound of Carson’s voice calling up the ladder.

“Yo, guys, James made contact, get down here!”

They both scrambled to their feet, bolting to the ladder.

“What do you know?” Damian asked Carson as the three of them made their way to the stairwell.

“There was a bunch of computer stuff that I didn’t really get, but from what I could tell she actually reached out to him. Apparently she’s been off the grid and completely tech free since she left that message, ‘cause Eric and his thugs were tracking her through their conversations.”

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Shannon as they rounded the corner into the basement.

“Any word on Eric’s silent partner?” Damian asked.

“Not that I know of, I went right up to get you guys.”

They entered James’s room, and for a moment Damian was taken aback by the state of the place. There was the usual organized chaos that the Penny Man had come to associate with James strewn all about, but the framework of the room itself was what really threw him off. The tile floor was cracked in several places, exposed pipes ran up the sides of the walls, humming and dripping, casting a cacophonous melody about the room. There were still traces of the faded graffiti left by vandals years before the crew of the Penny Man Detective Agency made this building their home. Damian recalled James spending many long hours scrubbing at the spray paint staining his walls with vulgarities. He’d spent years thinking up new ways to remove the graffiti, to no avail. If anything it was almost stronger in places, or so it seemed to Damian.

James didn’t seem bothered by the state of the basement at the moment. His focus was entirely trained on his computer, clacking at the keys intensely as his eyes bore into the screen. Azella sat in the corner of the room, looking away from James, her brows furrowed. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the newcomers, but not nearly as menacingly as Damian had become accustomed to as of late. Any relief that this reprieve might have brought Damian was canceled out by his recognition of that expression. She was worried. Very worried, about what Damian couldn’t be sure, but whatever it was it had clearly rattled her. This worried Damian, as Azella was hardly an easy person to rattle.

When they had met they were both in with some bad people, Azella even more so than Damian. She had spent her whole life not trusting anyone but herself; it wasn't until a few years ago that she began making exceptions. She did not take kindly to her trust being betrayed. It was why Damian could not begrudge her resentment of him. He knew he had earned it.

Damian shook that thought from his head violently and turned his focus on James.

“What’s the situation?” he asked.

“Hard to say,” James replied. “She stops responding every few minutes and her messages are always brief, but from the sound of things they’re closing in on her sooner than we expected.”

“I’m here!” called a voice from the hallway, accompanied by the sound of wet rubber shoes squeaking on the tile. Hank dashed into the room wearing a soaping rain coat, his mustache dampened thoroughly. Damian also noticed the slight bulk of a holster on his left hip.

“Got here… ‘s fast as I could,” Hank panted, clutching his chest as he came to a stop.

“Where were you?” asked the Penny Man.

“Ran out to feed the dog,” Hank huffed. “What’s the emergency?”

“We got Maya,” replied Carson.

“What?” Hank exclaimed, directing his attention to James. “How’d you get a hold of her?”

“I didn’t,” said James, offering no further explanation before snapping the lid of his laptop shut. “She wants to meet immediately, same place, move out!”

The entire team instantly rushed towards the staircase, headed up one floor to the garage.

“Carson, go grab a jacket first,” said Shannon over her shoulder.

“Seriously, Mama? You worryin’ about jackets right now?”

“Just do it, and don’t call me that,” Shannon said.

“But-”

“No buts, get a jacket. We’ll wait in the van.” James opened his mouth to protest, but Shannon cut him off with a look.

“Fine,” said Carson, dashing off course to the next floor up as the rest of them veered towards the garage.

“We don’t have time to wait,” said James after Carson was safely out of earshot.

“Which is why we’re not going to,” replied Shannon, staring straight ahead, a look of determination fixed on her features. “This thing has the potential to get messy, and I don’t want Carson involved in that. Not again.”

“You know, for all you protest the term, you really could be his mother,” said Damian.

“Shut it, Pennies,” grumbled Shannon, locking her jaw.

“Didn’t mean it as an insult,” the Penny Man said as the crew reached the beat up blue van that had once belonged to Shannon’s father.

“Can’t believe you’ve kept this old thing all these years,” muttered Damian looking at the van incredulously. “And that I do mean as an insult.” Shannon did not reply, simply elbowed Damian in the stomach and unlocked the car.

“Gimme the keys, I’ll drive,” said James.

“Easy there, Helton, I don’t let just anyone drive my baby,” Shannon warned.

“Your “baby” is five years older than you are, if he crashes it it’ll be a mercy killing; give him the damn keys,” said Azella, startling everyone by speaking for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Shannon was still hesitant.

“I think I hear Carson on the stairs,” said Damian.

“Fine,” huffed Shannon, tossing James the keys with a bit too much force. “But I’m riding shotgun.”

They all piled into the car, the frame of it shaking and buckling ominously against their weight. The back seat was covered in Shannon’s things, some sweatshirts and old text books, so Damian ended up crammed in between Hank and Azella in the middle seat. James turned the key in the ignition and the car made a sound like somebody strangling a gunshot, releasing a puff of black smoak.

“This thing isn’t safe,” said Damian.

“Oh, and I suppose nine out of ten doctors’d recommend taking a ride on the back of your motorcycle?” snipped Shannon.

“One, I’ve not driven that thing in years, two, a motorcycle is perfectly safe if the person driving it knows what they’re doing,” argued Damian as James started to drive, the engine making a sound like a cat with bronchitis in a meat grinder. “This thing is a death trap no matter who’s behind the wheel.”

“That’s just-”

“Would you two stop bickering!” snapped James as the car rolled out onto the street, the rain hitting the top of it rhythmically. “Can’t this thing go any faster?” He slammed his foot on the gas, which only served to make the engine stall for half a second.

“Jesus Christ,” James swore under his breath.

“Sorry James,” Shannon muttered after the moment of shock had worn off of the group. After all, this kind of pre-mission chatter wasn’t at all unusual for them.

“No, it’s just…” James sighed. “Can we please just talk about something else? Something light?” They all gave a nod of assent.

“So, Hank,” said Damian after a moment of considering what constituted light conversation. “How’s your wife?”

The group gave a collective wince that made Damian suspect that he had failed at broaching a light topic.

“She’s, uh… well, she’s back with her sister again,” Hank said gruffly. “Didn’t like how much time I was spending at work.”

“For how long?” Damian asked, almost disbelievingly.

“Since December,” said Hank.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Damian, who, despite his urge to change the topic of conversation, really did feel sorry about his friend’s predicament.

“Yeah, well,” started Hank. “‘S no one’s fault, sometimes these things just sort of,” he made a vague gesture. “You know.”

Damian nodded. Despite Hank’s lack of finesse when it came to words, he had a great heart, and great instincts. It was one of the things that drew the Penny Man to him.

“She’ll come around Hank,” said Damian reassuringly, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Sometime these things take time, but when two people are really meant for each other they’ll find some way to make it work. Love is one of those things that’s worth fighting for.”

Hank smiled appreciatively at the Penny Man.

“Hard to imagine how easily I forget what a sap you are, Pennies,” he chuckled.

“Oh, please,” muttered Azella angrily under her breath.

“I’m sorry?” asked Damian, regretting it not even a moment later.

“You should be,” she snapped.

Before Damian could even formulate a response Shannon had stepped in, sounding just as irritated as Azella.

“What exactly is your problem?” she asked Azella.

“He’s got no damn business giving out advice about love,” she retorted.

“And you’ve got no damn business lashing out at him like this,” said Shannon, turning around in her seat to face Azella. “And frankly I’m a little tired of it.”

“You know what I’m tired of, Shannon?” growled Azella, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m tired of the way you seem to forget that he abandoned you just as much as the rest of us. And I’m tired of the way you talk down to me just because I’m the only one who won’t let him use me as an emotional punching bag!”

“You know what? I envy you, Az, I really do,” said Shannon. “Cause it’s just so easy for you to turn your back on him, and on anyone else who can’t live up to your standards. I truly envy your ability to judge everybody else on their mistakes while completely discounting your own; it must be such a blissful existence you have up on your high horse.”

Both women were becoming increasingly aggressive with their argument.

“Okay, why don’t we all just-” started Hank.

“Oh, you’re gonna talk to me about high horses?” barked Azella. “I’m not the one who goes around trying to run everybody else’s lives because I don’t have one of my own to worry about!” Shannon reared back as if she had been pushed, her mouth hanging open, her eyes seething with rage.

“Why you wretched little-”

“Okay, that’s enough chit-chat,” said James, hitting the radio button so hard he almost smashed it.

“... And in other news, local philanthropist Eric Knight has recently made yet another charitable donation to the police department; looks like our boys in blue will be getting some shiny new riot gear. Jan, I think I speak for all of us when I say that Eric Knight certainly lives up to his family name, he is truly an upstanding citizen. I remember when I first-”

James shut off the radio, cutting off the announcer's chipper voice. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. All of a sudden the tension running between the crew had dissipated, replaced by a vaguely nauseous feeling at the reminder of who their real enemy was.

Justice may be blind, but she’s no sucker; the more money Eric poured into the police department, the less they cared about how he got said money. Damian wondered briefly if the others had even bothered trying to file a police report when James had been attacked. The thought made his stomach churn wildly, so he attempted to force his mind elsewhere.

“Look, I know we’re all wound pretty tight right now,” said James, almost timidly, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of determination. “Lord knows I am, but what we need to remember is that we’re a team. Even when we’re fighting, even when we can’t stand one another, we all made a commitment to the work, and part of that commitment is having each other’s backs. With everything that’s happened between us we’re not as much of a family as we once were, maybe some of us no longer even consider the others their friends; and maybe that’s not something that can ever change back, maybe we’ve all been cut too deep. But even if that’s the case, nothing is ever going to change the fact that we’re a team. We could get to the point where we physically can’t stand to be in the same room as one another, but we are all better than letting that affect our work. Stopping whatever it is that Eric’s planning is more important than all of us or our feelings towards each other. We are the only people in the world who know what Eric is capable of, we are the only people in the world who can stop him. I know this is a lot to ask, and I’m sorry if it feels like too much for any of you, but the only chance we have of beating this son of a bitch is by facing him together. And there’s a whole hell of a lot worse people out there who we coulda been stuck in this ratty van with, so we might as well just be happy with who we got. I’m gonna be honest, a lot of the time, I don’t really like you guys all that much, but dammit we’ve been through hell and back together and I’m always gonna love you. That’s never gonna change, and I wouldn’t want it to. We’ve still got a lot left to work through, but for now can we just be a team? Can we just work together and have each other’s backs? That’s all I’m asking for, just… please.”

By now they had pulled up in front of the train yard and the van had stopped moving. James had silent tears brimming in his eyes and it struck Damian fully for the first time how hard this must be for him. To be confronted with all sorts of conflicting emotions, still healing physically and mentally from the trauma he faced, unable to depend on anyone, having to shove down what he was feeling to get the job done, having to break up fights when he was the one who had the most reason to lash out, having to sit there rallying the others with the knowledge that in a moment he could be facing the man who had all but bashed his skull in. Having to face all this feeling alone and abandoned.

Damian longed to reach out to James, to hold him, to do something to reassure him that he was not alone in this, that Damian would see to it that he was never alone again, but he knew that in this moment that would be the most selfish thing he could do. James was right; they could talk later, but for right now James didn’t need the man who used to be his lover. He needed his team mate.

“What’s the plan?” Damian asked. He and James locked eyes through the rearview mirror, a thousand unspoken words seeming to pass between them in an instant.

“Hank, you’re gonna bring up the front, be ready to shoot; Shan and I will follow up behind you. Damian and Azella will sneak in through the back. Maya said we needed to move fast, they could be closing in on her any minute. Our goal is to get her out of there as smoothly as possible. Ready?” James said.

“Ready,” everyone confirmed. James took a deep breath.

“Then let’s do this.”

They all got out of the van and rushed to get into position. The rain had slowed down to a near imperceptible drizzle, but the air held signs that the storm was far from over. James indicated the area they needed to go and the crew split up. The train yard was cold and empty, shrouded in a thin mist. Damian and Azella stalked quietly around the abandoned boxcars, Azella leading the way. They were caught in a tense silence, which seemed far too fragile to Damian to remain unbroken for long.

“You don’t deserve him,” Azella said suddenly, quietly.

“I never did,” said Damian. Azella’s eyes narrowed.

“Just keep in mind that even if he doesn’t think so I do.”

“Well it’s not exactly up to you, is it?” An ugly feeling was creeping up in Damian’s gut. It had been kept at bay for the past few days, but there is only so much a man’s pride will allow him to take, and Azella was pushing Damian’s to its limit.

“You think you’re so damn smart,” spat Azella. “Walking around like you have all the answers. But you don’t, do you? And the second some thing happens to remind you of that, you bail. You can’t handle the fact that after all you’ve learned you’re still just as lost as the rest of us.”

“What do you want me to do?” Damian snapped under his breath. “Do you want me to admit that I’m a coward? Do you want me to tell you that I’m sorry, even though we both know it won’t change anything? Do you want me to promise to stay away from James? Because that’s not gonna happen. Do you want me to swear that as soon as we find Maya I’ll pack up and piss off? If that’s what you want from me, Az, then I’ve got some news for you; I don’t owe you a damn thing. So give me all the dirty looks and nasty snide comments you’d like, cause it’s not gonna change the fact that I’m here to stay; and there’s a lot I’ve got to make up for, so don’t think for a second that I’m gonna waste any of my apologies on you.”

And then, to the Penny Man’s confusion and fury, Azella smiled at him. More of a smirk than a smile, really, but that’s about as close as she ever got.

“Was wondering how far you’d let me push you,” she said. Damian’s eye gave a slight twitch. “So you’re staying, then?” Damian glared at her for a moment longer before answering.

“Yeah, I’m staying.”

“For good?

“For good,” Damian nodded.

“Good,” said Azella.

“So, what?” Damian asked incredulously. “That’s it, we’re fine now?”

“Oh, no,” Azella said. “I’m still furious with you, and will be for quite some time. It’s just good to know that you’re not stupid enough to try running out on us again.”

Damian opened his mouth to respond, but Azella shushed him, nodding her head to indicate that they were in position.

There were a number of old boxcars arranged to create a kind of enclosed space. Damian and Azella lurked around the edge of one of the cars, peering into the shadowy center of the makeshift structure. Through the thin rays of moonlight shining down into the space they could just make out Hank on the other side, his pistol held firmly in his grasp. His eyes met theirs and he directed a significant nod at them. Both groups began to move in, peering into each boxcar they passed, scanning for some sign of movement or life. Hank plowed forward with a raised gun, Azella with raised fists. She was the more dangerous of the two. From across the wide artificial cavern James and Damian locked eyes. Something was wrong, they both sensed it. From the moment he set foot in the structure Damian had observed several signs of recent inhabitants scattered about the place; light footprints in the mud nearly erased by the rain, bits of junk moved around like furniture, the barely visible corner of what could have been a blanket, and a dozen or so other well concealed things. They were certainly in the right place, and yet there was no indication that human life continued to reside here, hostile or otherwise. Growing more uneasy by the minute, the Penny Man reached into his coat pocket and produced a small switchblade. He gripped it tightly between his fingers, but did not press the switch, it wasn’t time for that yet.

To his surprise, Damian witnessed James retrieve his own small knife from across the enclosure. As long as he’d know James, Damian had never once seen him carry a weapon around with him, despite the Penny Man’s numerous and heavy handed suggestions that he do just that. James had always found the practice to be unnecessary, if not inviting of misfortune and violence. Damian raised an eyebrow at James, his eyes flickering to the pocket knife questioningly. James answered him with a flat look. Right, Damian thought, something like what James went through would change some opinions. The Penny Man wondered briefly what else about James might have changed that night, but again had to shove those thoughts aside for later examination. He had the mission to focus on now.

Ahead of him, Azella came to an abrupt stop with a slight gasp. Damian’s finger hovered over the knife’s switch as he went to see what had caused her halt.

There are moments in life which are destined to be burned into our memories, moments that we will return to again and again, time after time, trying to think of some way, some magical solution, to alter that eternal pinpoint of change. So many of us spend decades pondering what could have happened differently, what tiny change could have been made to spare us from the rippling effect that these moments have spawned in our lives. It is a fruitless and futile effort, but a captivating one to be sure, the alluring notion that if we had been just half a beat faster, half a beat stronger, or half a beat more knowledgeable, all of our current troubles would have been washed away, prevented in a single moment. But of course we were not that half a beat faster, stronger, or more knowledgeable, and, in fact, even if we had been it would likely have made very little difference. Damian Grey knew this well, knew perfectly well that if he had been half a beat, or even half an hour quicker it wouldn’t have made an ounce of impact on his current troubles. Yet this knowledge did nothing to shield him from the siren song of hindsight. He would spend a great deal of his time pondering this moment over the next few years, searching and searching for that one tiny change that could have solved everything. He would search and search, burdened with the knowledge that the answer simply wasn’t there. There was nothing he could have done. And yet he still searched.

The Penny Man peered over Azella’s shoulder, Maya Johnson's corpse meeting his gaze with glassy, lifeless eyes.

Damian’s grip loosened on the switchblade handle, the knife slipping from between his fingers in shock. It clattered mutely to the ground at his feet. His eyes quickly scanned for a sign of her killers, but they had long since moved on. Damian’s eyes fell on an open laptop in the back of the boxcar. The artificial light emitting from it cast its glow over Maya’s body, illuminating all the ways that it was now empty. Damian heard the others approaching behind him. He disregarded them as he walked slowly into the boxcar, past Maya’s body and straight to the laptop. There, still pulled up on the screen was the conversation James’d had with Maya. Damian read it through quickly as the others laid their eyes on the body. Gasps of shock and horror reached the Penny Man’s ears as he kept his focus directed on the laptop’s screen.

M: Did you get the message I left at the house?

J: Yes. What happened? Why haven’t you been messaging me?

M: They were tracking me through our conversations. Had to go dark for a bit.

M: There’s trouble. Come early.

J: What trouble?

M: They’re closing in. Can’t say more, just get here quickly.

J: We’ll be there in 15 minutes.

That was all there was on the message screen, however the Penny Man noticed another window open on the bottom of the page. He heard the others talking over the body as he switched over to the other tab. It was a word document, on which was printed five words in a neat, clean font.

Better luck next time, Pennies.

Damian stared at the screen, caught in the purgatory between disbelief and rage. This… this was low. Even for Eric, this was taking things too far. To kill people as a means to an end was one thing, though Damian, but… to use that death as a… as a punchline to some kind of gruesome, tasteless joke… It was too far. That sick bastard had gone too far and they both knew it. Damian had known from the beginning that Eric was not above killing when he felt he had reason to, but this… this was not the product of a man with reason. This jeer taunting him from the screen was the voice of a monster. Damian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his flesh so deeply that they nearly drew blood. He had to figure out his next move.

This taunt was designed to keep him from thinking straight, to make him emotional and sloppy. He couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to feel, couldn’t afford to have his hands shake with fury as they did now. He needed to shut it down, he needed to remove himself from his emotions. He could feel himself beginning to slip away, the anger slowly draining from his system, being replaced by a detached numbness that seeped down into his bones, into his very soul.

The others were still inspecting the body. James looked up and saw Damian staring at the computer with a peculiar expression on his face. He walked over to the Penny Man, glancing back over his shoulder, his stomach giving an unpleasant lurch at the sight of Shannon examining the body.

“What did you…” his words stopped when he registered the message on the screen. The nauseous feeling in his stomach increased as he took in its meaning. James’s eyes went to Damian’s face, recognizing the expression now. His heart began to beat faster as he shook the Penny Man’s shoulder, panic rising in him.

“Don’t,” James pleaded, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. He couldn’t afford to let Damian go to that place, not now, not on top of everything else. “Don’t check out on me, Dami.”

James continued to shake him, but it was the name that shocked the Penny Man awake. Dami. That was what James used to call him before… before… His emotions flooded back into him at full force, the strength of it causing his knees to buckle beneath him. James reached out and caught him before he could fall. Damian clutched onto him for support.

“Are you back?” James asked earnestly, looking into Damian’s eyes. Damian nodded his head.

“I’m back.”

James sighed heavily with relief and placed a kiss on the top of Damian’s head.

“Don’t leave like that again,” he whispered softly into Damian’s hair.

“I won’t,” promised Damian. “I’m staying right here.”

They looked into each other's eyes, each understanding the full meaning of the other’s words.

“James, give me your knife,” Shannon said, breaking the two of them from the spell of each other’s gaze.

“What?” James asked in a bewildered tone.

“I think there’s something lodged in her esophagus, I’ve got to try and get it out,” Shannon explained impatiently, before snapping her fingers at James. “Knife, now.”

He handed it to her and without hesitation she began to slice Maya’s neck open. James buried his face in Damian’s shoulder, Hank stared pointedly outside the boxcar, even Azella flinched slightly at the sound of the knife splitting flesh. It was messy; the tool Shannon used was not built for clean, precise slices, and the body was only newly dead. The sight even made Shannon grimace slightly, but above all else she was a professional. She didn’t have tweezers, so her only option was to dig her hand into the wound. It was warm and wet in a way she associated with living bodies, but too still to be anything but dead. She felt around inside Maya’s throat until she came across something with a hard, almost plastic like texture. She pulled it out and wiped it off on her pants to better examin it. She looked down at the small plastic rectangle in her hand.

“It’s a flash drive,” she declared to the crew. They all shifted slightly, like they wanted a closer look, but were too repulsed to move any closer to the blood soaked object.

“Why was…” muttered Hank. “Did she…?”

“She must have swallowed it to keep her attackers from stealing it,” said Damian. “That drive must have the information that started all of this.”

They all stared, awed by the fact that such a small object could hold information so powerful that the woman who lay before them had been willing to die to protect it from falling into the wrong hands.

Slowly, James stepped forwards and took the drive from Shannon’s open palm. He looked down at it for a moment, lost in thought.

“Everything we’ve worked for all these years,” said James, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s all right here. If there’s a way to bring down Eric, it’s going to be in these files.”

Silence again fell on the group. The weight of the moment was more than any of them could have bared on their own. They were all struck dumb by the paradoxical feeling of being so close to the end of something that if they reached out they could brush it with their fingertips, and yet having only barely scratched the surface of their journey.

They all looked at one another, understanding passing between them like a prayer. They had traveled a long road and had only just made it to the halfway point. They’d come to the point where turning back would be just as laborious a task as continuing onwards. James stepped back and intertwined his fingers with Damian’s, holding them tight.

They stayed like that the entire way back to the office, everyone sitting silently, consumed by their own thoughts, James and Damian hand in hand. Damian rubbed circles into the back of James’s hand as James rested his head against his shoulder. Damian didn’t think he’d ever seen somebody look so damn tired. He looked as tired as Damian felt. He remembered a time when he had someone to take care of him when he was this tired, someone to tell him it was time to rest. Looking at the steady rise and fall of James’s chest he was certain that he wasn’t the only one who remembered that time.

He was going to make things right, Damian decided. He didn’t know how he would, or how long it would take, and he didn’t care. He was going to do whatever it took to earn back the trust of the man before him.

“You amaze me,” Damian said to James after they had pulled back into the garage. Hank and Azella had gone in for a cup of coffee while Shannon had went to fill in Carson. James had assumed that Damian had gone in with the others and jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What?” James asked in a puzzled tone.

“I think you’re amazing,” Damian repeated. “No matter what happens to you, no matter how bad things get, you refuse to let anything stop you or hold you back. You’re a much stronger man than I am, James, stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

James smiled a bittersweet smile and turned away, staring at the ground.

“Do you think she even sent those messages?” he asked. “Or had she already been killed and he just wanted to make sure we saw.”

“Do you want the hard answer or the nice one?” Damian asked. James let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“I want an honest one,” James said. Damian inhaled deeply.

“I think that it was a calling card,” said the Penny Man. “I think this was Eric and his new partner’s way of telling us that they’re raising the stakes. The game has changed; it’s winner take all now. They’re telling us that this is the last match, that one way or another the game is going to end.”

James took a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Not everyone’s gonna make it out of this, are they?” Damian gave a curt nod.

“But it’s not gonna be any of ours,” Damian said determinedly. James smiled at him.

“You’re stronger than you realize, Dami,” James told him. “You make a lot of mistakes, and I can see how hard you fight to come back from them. Despite everything from your past you’re always trying to make yourself a better person. You beat yourself up so much for the things you get wrong that you forget about how much you get right. Your heart has been hurt so much, and yet it still has so much love to give,” James walked over to Damian and placed his hand on his chest, directly over his heart. “I’ll never understand how you keep such big feelings in just this little space, and I am honored to know that you’ve made room for me among all of that,” Damian tilted his head forwards, so that their foreheads were pressed together. “What I want to say is that you amaze me too, more than you can possibly imagine. But I need time.” Hot tears were streaming down James’s cheeks as he spoke. Each word that passed his lips felt like he was twisting a knife in his own heart, but he had to say them. “After what you did, I… it can’t just go back to how it was, no matter how much I wish it could. I love you, Damian, so much that it hurts to think about, but I’m going to need a lot of time before I can trust you again. When you left me like that, it broke my heart, and I still haven’t put it all back together. I don’t even know if I can. And even if I do someday, part of me is always going to be scared that if I give it back to you, you’ll just break it all over again, and I’m tired of feeling like this; it’s the most exhausting thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like every time I take a breath something is trying to claw its way out of my chest, and I can’t do anything about it, because the one who used to help me when I felt something like this is the one who put the feeling there in the first place. And I can’t be with you right now, no matter how much I want to, because if I do the feeling won’t go away, it’ll just get buried under all of the good feelings until it seeps up and poisons those too. I need time to think everything through on my own, to get to a place where I can trust you again, where I can feel safe giving you my heart again. Can you please give me that time, Damian?”

“Of course,” said Damian, tears brimming in his amber eyes. James smiled at him again before tilting his head up to catch Damian’s lips in a kiss. It was brief and chaste, but full of emotion, of longing for something that was within arm’s reach.

“Thank you,” James whispered, his lips still brushing against Damian’s.

The sound of someone clearing their throat echoed across the garage, causing the two to jump apart.

“So is this gonna be a regular thing?” asked Azella, her arms crossed over her chest. “Every time I turn a corner from now on should I just expect to see you two sucking face and bawling your eyes out?” Her tone was teasing, but the question was genuine.

Damian and James glanced at each other, both of their cheeks stained red.

“I’d say it’s safe to put that one lower down on your list of worries and concerns,” said Damian.

“Agreed,” said James.

Azella looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Hmm,” she turned and began walking towards the stairs. “Well wrap it up, would you? We’re waiting for you upstairs. Oh, and boys?” she called over her shoulder. “Skip the elevator this time, ‘kay?”

Damian chuckled at this.

“Glad to see her good humor’s returned to her,” he said sarcastically as they ascended the stairs.

“I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you,” said James. “You know how she is, short fuse and all.”

“Well I’ll just have to watch my step from now on.”

“Indeed.”

The rest of the crew was waiting for them in the lab. Carson’s young face looked heavier than Damian had seen it recently. Considering everything that kid has gone through, Damian was sure Carson was secretly glad Shannon and the others had left him behind on this one.

“‘Sup Pennies?” he asked half heartedly as they entered the room. “James?”

“How ya’ feeling, kid?” James asked gently.

“Been better, I guess. You?” asked Carson. James took a deep breath and nodded his head.

“Yeah, same here.” He took the flash drive out of his pocket. It was covered in dried blood. “Hopefully it was worth it, though.”

They all stared at the drive for a long moment, not saying anything.

“So,” said Carson, breaking the silence that seemed to stretch for hours. “What now?”

“Well,” said the Penny Man, placing his hands in his coat pockets where he could feel his collection jangling about loosely. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do.”

MORE TO COME.