Young Justice 1. This is how it feels

**Author's Note: **I just felt like giving Eduardo some attention! This fic was also practice while I overcome another bout of hiatus writer's block. (;;) Titled after the Breaking Benjamin song, but you'll find many throwbacks to the other songs inspiring me during the whole process. **Cover artwork** by myself, and you can find more Ed fanart on my deviantART under the username hlwar. ;)

**Acknowledgments:** Thank you to my dear friend BabsDC on deviantART for helping beta-read and translate the Spanish! And many thanks to Leena1445 for the pre-read on a couple chapters!

**Disclaimers:** The cartoon _Young Justice_ and Ed Dorado remain the property of © Greg Weisman, Brandon Vietti, Cartoon Network, and DC Comics Entertainment. All rights reserved to the original creators. No infringement is intended by this not-for-profit fan story that was written exclusively for fun.

* * *

**Into the Nothing**  
a _Young Justice_ fan fiction

**I. Así es como se siente cuando recuperas tu vida.**

Never. He hadn't just said it, he _meant_ it.

No matter the context of the conversation, whether it was subtle hints or a direct enquiry, his father kept posing the same question to him: Why not return to S.T.A.R. Labs? Just for an hour, to update his records. Just for a day, to make sure his health was fine. Perhaps remain the week while his father finished his latest project?

Only for a little while. And subsequently allowing the other scientists to poke and prod his son for signs of his power escalating. Ed didn't even need to think it over.

"Never again. Padre, I don't even know why you keep asking."

"I like being able to keep an eye on you."

Ed felt slighted and he couldn't stop the irritation from rising to his tone. "I told you I'm not gonna run away again. I was running _here_ anyway."

Not that New Mexico was any better than Argentina, it seemed. He thought being in America, being with his father, would give him greater opportunities and make his life easier. He'd been sick of talking to his Dad once in awhile on the phone, or through the occasional letter. Although he learned at a much younger age his father was too busy being a scientist to have free time for any family back in South America, he assumed things would be different if he were actually _in his presence_. In retrospect, it was a childishly stupid idea.

Wishful thinking only made his life worse, and Ed never realized how difficult and straining the relationship with his father could be. Not until the Reach and its meta-gene research. _And now that's all I am to him too__—__research. _

Those memories were sour pills to swallow, and whenever he started thinking back on them, despite himself, all his bitterness would swell to the surface. Ed was so tired of fighting with his father, yet he heard himself say again: "You never_ listen_. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because you are in my home and I am responsible for you."

"Being responsible for me doesn't include shipping me off to S.T.A.R.. That's where you belong, _not_ me. I'm not your lab rat anymore."

His father's eyes narrowed hurtfully and instantly Ed knew his mistake; he meant to say "their lab rat", not personally attack his father. Slip of the tongue... or so he told himself. Trying to blow off the touchy conversation, as he usually did, he added, "Besides, I start school tomorrow."

As per their great family dynamic, Eduardo Sr. accepted the bait readily, also not wishing to provoke darker emotions. "Sí. So are you excited?"

"I guess."

"Well, I wouldn't worry. You got high marks in your early secondary, before you left."

_And when I bothered to show up,_ Ed thought, but his father prudently refrained from pointing out his reckless, rebel phase. It wasn't that Ed disliked school, or any of his classmates, but his passion for learning dwindled after graduating primary. As a kid he wanted to be smart like his Dad, but as he got older he saw education wasn't getting him any closer to his father, definitely no faster. So he began acting out and skipping classes; attention-seeking his grandfather said. It still didn't bring him any nearer Ed Sr.

And then he had the bright idea to be more pro-active about that. Rebel phase, indeed!

"I just want to focus on being normal. If I fit in, than I fit in." He shrugged.

"High school here will be much the same, and I know you'll do well." The next sentence made Ed pause, think back. "And I know you choose friends wisely."

At least this time he wouldn't have to choose friends in order to stay alive.

* * *

There was something relaxing about the normalcy of going to school in the morning. Ed could almost believe himself an everyday teen with everyday obligations. But when he reached the outskirts of the high school grounds, he started to feel edgy.

He wasn't like the other kids, not really; deep down he constantly felt that odd well of power—the power to teleport at will.

Yeah, none of those other people could do such an unbelievable feat, because _normal_ human beings weren't meant to travel like a miniature, flesh-and-blood Zeta-beam. It wasn't natural, and it made him feel like something _alien_.

Repressing an angry sneer of self-loathing, Ed rolled his skateboard to a halt and kicked it up to his hand. Repress it, forget it. He wasn't an alien, he was just a new student on his way to orientation. All he had to do was play it off like there was nothing wrong, and then nobody would be the wiser.

But what if someone _did_ notice? How would they react? Maybe in the end being shunned for his recently created power was what actually scared him, now that he was out of the team.

Shrugging his shoulders and tucking his board under his arm, Ed reminded himself there was no way to know. His power was only visible if he _used it_, and he hadn't teleported himself in months. Not since helping the League disable the Reach's Disruptors.

So for today, he was just another newbie.

Like most new kids on the block, he received his fair share of curious looks and inquisitive stares, but also some welcoming nods. Maybe the start of his latest school life wouldn't be so bad? He did his best to be polite but he couldn't stop to try and make friends; the morning bell was not far off and he still needed to stop by the registrar's office.

As the rest of the students made their way to the main campus Ed veered off towards the municipal buildings, darting across the lawn to avoid the crowded sidewalks. Nearing the outer buildings, the amount of people became less and less, until finally he was the only one outside the executive wing.

There were two buildings here, sitting together in a 90-degree angle and overlooking a rounded courtyard of flagstones. When he reached the yard, Ed removed his safety helmet and looked for the directory. But as he neared the outer walls he heard hushed, yet demanding voices. Almost without meaning to, he adjusted his course to walk closer to the voices, tilting his head to listen.

"What the hell is this?"

The tone was obviously young—another student.

The main staircase for the first building sat adjacent to the point at which both buildings met, and as he got nearer Ed saw there was a covered walkway underneath, most likely heading to the rear exits and employee parking lot; but next to that was a guardrail and a descending staircase. That was where the voice rose from, below the morning light.

Walking closer, Ed saw two boys halfway down and flanking the stairs. At the bottom was a square pavement and a door with a sign reading 'Boiler Room: Authorized Personnel Only'. At the base of the stairs, hidden from the rest of the world above by the dank shadows to the locked basement, a burly boy held a slight, skinny kid against the wall.

Immediately, a cold, angry feeling washed over him, giving his skin goose-bumps. Ed hated bullies. Self-important idiots who threw their weight around solely because they could, with no regard for anybody else. The worst kind were those who forced others to submit, like this punk.

Like the Reach.

"But I told you before, my parents got suspicious," the little victim whimpered, his voice unnaturally high with fright. "They won't give me my whole prescription. That's all I have, sorry."

"What am I supposed to do with _only_ two pills? That's not enough to get anybody even buzzed." The bully slammed the poor kid suddenly in fury. "No one will pay for that. "

"Sorry," he said again.

"You're gonna be—"

"What're _you_ lookin' at, asshole?"

All the boys suddenly turned to look at Ed, who had unconsciously drifted closer than he should've. By the expressions he was receiving, he knew the look on his face told them everything he was feeling in turn: anger and disgust.

_That can't be good, for me,_ he thought as the kid who addressed him got up in his face. This overweight jock must have been lurking nearby, a designated look-out, and Ed silently cursed himself for not noticing the fourth bully sooner.

"I said, whaddya think you're lookin' at, huh?" He jabbed a beefy finger into Ed's chest accusingly.

_I can't do this,_ Eduardo warned himself. _I can't get into a fight now, on my first day._ His father would kill him! He submissively lowered his head, hating to do it but thinking it best, though his hands clutching his skate stuff fisted heatedly.

"Nothing," he mumbled nonchalantly. He hoped being passive-aggressive wouldn't backfire.

"_Tch_. That's what I thought." The jock grabbed his collar and shoved him towards the stairwell. "Got a Nosey Nancy here," he announced to his unofficial boss.

The bully at the bottom of the stairs maintained his grip on the money-maker, but his hard gaze was now locked on Ed. "Ah," he said. "I've never seen you before. A new guy?"

Eduardo nodded casually, feeling a sneer work its way to his face. He didn't meet the rabble-rouser's eyes, but instead flicked a glance to the victim. The younger, slighter boy kept his face to the ground, never daring to move a muscle. Ed assumed he'd get a pleading look, some silent gesture for help, but he didn't. He felt so sorry for the boy, yet a part of him retreated from the sympathy; almost like he was relieved—grateful even—not having an open invitation into the mix.

Besides, he wasn't anybody's hero anymore.

"Then I guess you don't know the ropes yet," continued the leader of the gang. "Count yourself lucky, man. But I suggest you move along, before we teach you your first lesson." He nodded his head away to indicate the newbie should leave.

But Ed hesitated, his brows furrowing grudgingly.

"I _said _get outta here!"

With a glare Ed moved to leave, but not before looking one last time at the boy he was essentially abandoning. Still no recognition or appeal. So he went on his way, thoroughly unlike his former self, backing down from a fight.

But it wasn't his fight, and really, what could he do? He was the new kid, and he was trying to start over. With a reproachful sigh, Ed realized he'd already broken his primary goal for today: don't get noticed.

* * *

Sitting on the bench outside the pueblo-styled architecture of his new school, skateboard at his feet, Ed listened to the final tolling of the bell. His backpack was weighted thanks to the mass of homework prearranged; seriously, he didn't think he left a single book back in his locker. He was starting mid-year with lots to catch up on, but he was afraid he barely even remembered the orientation tour. Except for the inquiring looks from the other students.

He had been genuinely friendly, but within moments of starting his opening class he seemed to lose interest. At first he wasn't sure his dilemma. He didn't feel nervous, yet Ed kept to himself throughout the day, staying aloof and laid-back. His focus waned, almost as if the earlier altercation already drained him. When the day came to an end, he was afraid he may have accidentally alienated himself.

Ed's goal was to be normal and he decided the best way was to not stand out. Epic-fail there. He was sure at least some of his new classmates had heard from the bullies... _You're trying too hard, _he finally told himself. Then he sighed, brushing hair from his face. _Whatever. Tomorrow's another day._

As the rest of the school began to exit the grounds, Ed decided to focus externally rather than on himself. So he watched the other kids: rushing to catch their bus ride home, loitering in small groups to chat of the day, or ambling along the maze of sidewalks and keeping to themselves, like he was. Soon, enough time had passed that teachers began leaving, and Ed decided to pack up and head home.

He set a foot atop his board, and that's when he realized he'd forgotten his helmet. He knew his father would have more than a word to say about it, and he wasn't in the mood to get another lecture. So, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder, he reluctantly hopped aboard and skated back to the school. It was slow going with the bulk of books bearing down on the wheels, but the yard was quickly emptying and he didn't have to worry about maneuvering or half-halting.

Idly, his mind drifted back to the morning, and it suddenly felt like déjà vu. Would the bullies jump him now, he wondered? No, that was nonsense. They had their opportunity and let him go. Besides, he actually hadn't done anything except slip back under the radar, a passer-by.

But the clenching feeling remained, a faint paranoia. Eduardo had learned to trust his senses, his gut feeling, and he'd usually been right; it usually gave him fair warning. Even though this was no longer a battlefield on an alien spaceship, or even trashing city streets at midnight to spit in the face of the Reach's media fanfare, Ed decided to take heed.

It had nothing to do with his power. It was simply genuine human intuition. And it drew him back around the high school, towards the municipal buildings. He thought perhaps his conscious was trying to inflict a guilt-trip, which he didn't need reminding of, yet he still felt a mental alarm flare. He was on his guard.

Ed could make out cars still beyond the angled buildings, staff still inside. He stopped his board as he gazed around, replaying the morning scene in his head with a rather sheepish remorse. And then he happened to look up at the windows, and up even more—

And gasped.

A small frame was standing atop the building, on the edge just over the boiler room stairs. Although several stories in the air, Ed knew immediately it was the bully victim, the boy he failed to help. And it was obvious what he was doing.

"¡Dios mío—!" He dropped his pack, letting the dead weight fall.

Not good, not good. He didn't have time to warn anybody, didn't have time to even get inside, let alone make the climb up the flights of steps.

The suicidal teen uncertainly opened his arms to the abyss below, not welcomingly spread-eagled but tentatively parted. It was almost in slow motion. Ed was frantic, his eyes fixed on the kid wanting to jump, seeking escape.

But he was lingering; Ed could save him.

He didn't know the rooftop, the layout or the structure. But it _was_ in his line of sight.

And then there was no more time to think as the victim let himself fall.

Only time enough to react.

He equated the use of his power like mentally snapping his fingers. Thoughtless, easy, quick. Ed grabbed desperately at the void of nothing deep inside himself, calling his power to use. And like the sudden sound of snapping his fingers, he saw the flash of light, felt the abrupt heaviness of his body in a weightless void as it traveled.

Following the focused path of his vision, he snapped back with another flash, midair. He caught the dropping boy by the shirt, snagging an arm, hanging on with all his might; but his eyes remained locked upwards for fear of succumbing to the plummet himself.

Flash, traveling, and a final flash; now high above the courtyard, atop the edge of the building.

Then suddenly Ed felt gravity at his back. His feet had found purchase as they reappeared on the ledge but he sensed his balance faltering.

"_Whoa_," he gasped in panic as his heels dipped precariously off the rim.

Throwing his weight forward, towards the security of the roof floor, he allowed his knees to buckle as he dragged the boy down with him. His knees struck hard and he had to catch himself on his hands before face-planting, but at least they were no longer falling.

It was a crash landing, but he'd done it! They were safe.

And then the pain struck; Eduardo forgot how badly it hurt to transport another person.

Reminding himself of the other kid, he tried to forget the searing ache steadily pulsing inside his core. He asked breathlessly, "¿Estás bien?"

_Oh..._ Shaking his head to clear his racing, pained thoughts, he corrected: "You okay?"

The bully victim was unresponsive, crying loudly and almost curled into a fetal position. His own hands were balled into fists atop the roof, his head buried on his arms. He was probably in too much mental anguish to notice the pain of teleporting through Ed, too miserable to hear his savior's query. Biting his lip with pity, Ed laid a comforting hand on the boy's back, feeling him shaking, hearing his rasping sobs, and wondering what to do next.

Just then the covered door to the rooftop burst open with a metallic cry of the hinges, and several voices echoed to them. "Why are you boys up here?" "What's going on?" "What happened?"

Unsure whether to be thankful for the teachers' sudden appearance, or wary of their intrusion, Ed lifted himself onto his knees. He replied with as much compassionate strength as he could muster, trying to hide his own suffering, "H-He tried to jump. I pulled him off the edge before—"

"Oh my goodness!" an elderly teacher exclaimed.

A middle-aged woman, wearing the white jacket of a school nurse, nodded as if to herself, even though her eyes were wide with horror-struck worry. "I was afraid this would happen someday." She sounded angry. Putting her arms around the crying boy, she urged him up. "Come on, dear. Let's get you off this roof."

Now that it was over, Eduardo felt the whirling commotion like the aftermath of a tornado. None of the staff seemed to regard him with sudden aversion or doubt, so he felt confident they didn't see what happened, see what he "miraculously" had done. And he was certain the victim wouldn't remember the details, either.

As the despondent, tragic boy was escorted to the door, Ed was aware of a janitor nearby, reaching to help Ed stand. "You alright there, son?"

He hoped the man couldn't see the sickly sweat on his face, or the way he sat on his heels hunched over. Or the strange relief in his eyes. Reflexively shying away from the offer, Ed lurched to his feet as proof he was fine. He had to hold his breath for a moment though, clenching his teeth and willing the ache away.

"Yes, thanks," he said politely, albeit rushed.

"Well, you shouldn't be up here. I don't know how you kids keep breaking the damn lock, but in your case, it's a good thing you were here."

_A good thing? I guess so... _It wasn't how Ed pictured his first day, but at least it worked out okay in the end.

* * *

"Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit! Did you see _that_?"

"I sure did, Billy! Looks like we done found ourselves a bona fide superhero!"


	2. One man's weakness

** **II. La **debilidad de uno es la fortaleza de otro. **

As soon as Ed got back to his father's apartment—three hours later than he should have—he immediately gulped down four aspirins and went to his room, collapsing on his bed in a weary heap. Although the guilt from the morning was gone, replaced with relief and slight satisfaction, he couldn't shake the throbbing ache from using his power.

Even back when battling the Reach, he always refrained from teleporting with another person; he did it once to rescue his father and had no desire to do it again. Not only did it hurt himself, but also the person traveling with him. He was sure his father had since fantasized several hypotheses in an attempt to explain why. Although it was his field and Eduardo's power was clearly Zeta-related, his father was no medical expert, and he wasn't about to go through _those_ tests too.

But as far as he knew, even a Zeta tube only allowed persons in single file. Like the tech, he could take along inanimate objects without discomfort. So what made mass-human teleportation different? If he thought on it too much, Ed grew paranoid. The answer was probably simple: because he _was_ human. He didn't need to know what his body was exposed to while in that "Zeta state", what was happening to him. He didn't want the power, he didn't need it. So as long as it wasn't used he was safe.

Science is what got him into this mess and, so far, it made no attempt to get him _out of it_. So he didn't need technical explanations, either. He just wouldn't do it.

But what about today? He wanted to lay low, just get through his first day of school, and then _that_. A rescue mission out of nowhere. He didn't even think about the consequences, he just used the power on the fly, because it was there.

Or was that the consequence itself? It is what it is, went the idiomatic saying.

"La puta madre..." he cursed softly, angrily, feeling fed up with everything.

Rolling onto his side, Ed decided to get some sleep before his father returned home and grilled him on his eventful first day. Although he planned to downplay his involvement and not tell anyone he'd teleported, he was still anxious and tired. And screw all the homework!

Why did his life have to be so complicated, by no design of his own? All he'd done was run away...

* * *

The following days passed without much commotion, and certainly not with the same amount of trouble as his very first day. Ed was regarded by faculty with a little higher regard, yet his classmates seemed more intrigued with him still being the new kid; he wondered if any of the students even heard of his good deed. Come to that, he hadn't seen the victim since the rescue.

Ed remained hopeful it was all water under the bridge now, and he could move on with his normal teenage life. Until Friday morning–

"Excuse me?"

Eduardo was just skidding his board up to a halt outside the school yard when the voice called to him from behind, in the public parking lot. The female voice was husky sounding but proper, and when he turned around he saw a young woman, probably not much older than himself, coming towards him. Another older teen was just getting out of the driver's side of an vintage muscle car, following after her.

"You're Eduardo Dorado, right?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Amanda Romero. You stopped my little brother Carlos on Monday." She seemed awkward going further into the event, but the words were sincere and her smile genuine. "I wanted to come by and tell you thanks."

"Oh," Ed said, surprised and just as awkward; he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, unsure of how to respond. "You don't have to do that."

"I really do," she replied sheepishly. "I was supposed to be there to pick him up, but I was stuck at college and running way late. I called my boyfriend to meet him instead, but it wasn't soon enough."

As she spoke, said boyfriend ambled up behind her, throwing an arm casually around her shoulders and jingling his car keys; there was a wide, auspicious grin on his long face and his eyes were hidden behind retro-styled sunglasses. He wore their college's jersey over a long-sleeved sweater, but there wasn't a sense of athletic pride about him. Indeed, he seemed hard to peg, almost disassociated from mundane school drama. The term "bad boy" sprung to mind.

When Ed regarded him with a courteous nod, the grin widened into an odd Cheshire Cat simper. He didn't know why exactly, but Ed couldn't meet the young man's shaded gaze. Even hidden behind shadowed lenses, he felt a sense of judgment from those eyes.

He lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of that stare while vaguely hearing the girl continue: "Carlos obviously needed someone there that day, so thank God for decent kids like you. It was a brave thing you did."

"Huh?" Ed was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. "No, no, it was fine. I'm only glad I could help."

"We've known for years he was being picked on, quite badly, although Carlos won't tell anybody the name of the bullies. But he also doesn't know who _you_ are."

Ed suddenly had the strange notion her boyfriend was waiting for some form of declaration. _But they obviously already know my name...?_

"It's like you're some kind of guardian angel, appearing out of nowhere just in time."

"Please," Ed mumbled, now embarrassed.

"Yeah," her boyfriend unexpectedly spoke up, as if on cue. Despite the heavy topic, his thickly accented voice was jovial. "You'ra real hero, aren't ya?"

There was something unnerving in the manner he spoke, almost like he was making fun of Ed. Picking up on his unease, the college boy full-out smiled then, draping his arm lower against his girlfriend's chest. Though he kept his face blank, Ed felt a twinge of revulsion at the brazen, gloating display. _Show off,_ he thought. _What's his problem?_

If Amanda was aware of the tension between the two she made no indication. However, she didn't miss a beat and immediately flung her beau's hand away, evidently used to his possessive theatrics.

Following her prim example, Ed quickly countered. "I'm no hero," he said humbly, though it was hard to say the word without flashbacks invading. "I'm just a new kid in the right place at the right time."

"Well, not everyone would do what you did," she said appreciatively.

"Ain't that the truth," the boyfriend added. Ed detected a restrained, raspy tone—trying not to laugh? At _what_?

In an attempt to get the topic of the conversation off himself, Ed asked, "How is your brother?"

"Doing better. He's gonna be home-schooled from now on, and I think it will help his depression."

"Shame, ain't it?" The boyfriend's voice was really grating on Ed's nerves now. He had a pompous, frivolous attitude that wasn't just annoying, it was infuriating. "He ain't gonna be able to show his face in public no more. Then again, I reckon the poor kid always did wear a mask."

The girl reached up to squeeze his hand affectionately, as if he'd just said something poetic, but Ed shook his head in disgust. It was like everything was a big joke to him, and his all-knowing tone made it difficult to communicate.

Suddenly, Ed's stomach tightened into a knot and he felt his breath catch. _All-knowing._ And that incessant impious stare, which now felt like a prodding elbow to the ribs, the inclination of tip-toeing around the truth. What was he really trying to say? Ed didn't like where this was leading.

"Here, I have something for you." Amanda dug into her courier bag and handed Ed a card. "It's from my mother, just another thank you. But I wrote our phone number on it, in case you'd like to call someday. Carlos could use a true friend."

Urging his mind out of the suspicious thoughts, caught off guard, Ed took the greeting card with another feeling of discomfiture. And slight nervousness. Talk to him? What if he asked about that day, what Ed had done to rescue him mid-fall?

"Oh, um, sure." Ed stared at the card with apprehension and shame. "Sure, I could do that."

"C'mon, honey, we best let the newbie get to class."

"Of course. Sorry."

"No problem." Ed shrugged.

"Thank you again, Eduardo." She suddenly hugged him and Ed unconsciously froze, an awkward blush brightening his cheeks. "You are a hero, don't let anybody else tell you otherwise!"

With a final wave, Amanda started back to the car with a casual: "Let's go, Billy."

Her boyfriend gave him one last impulsive grin and a double thumbs up before joining her. Ed watched the muscle car start in a burst of smoke, the engine revving, before it flew backwards out of the parking lane. The tires squealed as it peeled in a tight arc, and a grinding sound announced the gear change; it hurled away as the driver recklessly expected the other traffic and pedestrians to give way to his vehicle.

All the while, Ed could feel the shielded, mysterious gaze still bearing down on him, aggressively taunting. And he knew he did not like Billy, not in the least.

* * *

During the following week Ed couldn't forget the discordant meeting, couldn't even bring himself to open the card from the grateful parents. Somehow it all left him feeling worse about the event, and he found himself more guarded, a sense of foreboding hanging over the memory.

And then one day he ran into Billy on his way home.

It seemed quite by accident when he noticed the same muscle car before either of them realized the chance encounter. Yet despite the randomness of the hour, Ed was still displeased and stunned; his skateboard's front wheel caught the cement divider between the lot and sidewalk, jarring him off the deck to regain his balance.

"Well, hey there, Eddie!" the college boy greeted, coming out of the convenience store at the corner of the high school and Main Street. "Jus' gettin' outta school?"

"Hey," Ed replied without emotion. "Sorry, I don't remember your name," he lied.

"Yeah, we weren't rightly introduced. Name's Billy." He took off his sunglasses then and his eyes were just as devious as Ed expected, glittering blue and all wicked mirth. "I reckon you'll be remembering it from here on out."

Arching an inquisitive brow, Ed decided to let him rejoice in himself. _Be cool, civil, and let him go on his way._ He nodded dismissively, drove his toe onto his board to pop the nose skyward, and feigned checking the wheel.

"So, do any good deeds lately?"

"I don't think so." He dropped the board back to the sidewalk, irked. "Well, see you around."

An amused smile spread across his face. "Oh? Alrighty then. Don't forget to look both them ways before you cross the street."

Ed shot him a hard look, but not because he was annoyed again; rather, he wondered how Billy knew he always crossed the intersection here.

Setting a foot atop the board, he said, "I'll remember that for when I _do_ cross." And deliberately he pushed off down the sidewalk, heading straight on the main business street towards the Common, knowing full well he was being watched.

_There's something wrong with that guy,_ Ed thought. _It can't be coincidence, there's gotta be a reason he won't drop it. But why would he care? It wasn't his brother I saved, and I doubt he has any guilt._

It had been bugging him since they met, Billy's surefire prodding for an explanation. It's like he wasn't convinced Ed had simply been there at the right moment. Or was it something else? Listening to the thrumming of the wheels on the pavement, feeling the vibration of every seam running up his legs, Ed realized it wasn't so much about Carlos Romero. It was about _him_...

_The right place at the right time._

And Billy had been there to pick up the bully victim–

"Whereabouts you from anyway?"

Ed slammed the board's left rail down in a hasty halt and dismount, shocked beyond words. He'd slowed before the café in town, knowing he'd have to ride carefully along the outside of the terrace seating area. But he was unprepared for finding Billy there!

_What the—?!_

Billy, blond and blue eyed college boy, sitting on the terrace as if he'd been there the whole time. He was lazily swinging his car keys around his index finger, a miniature Swiss Army Knife clinking against the karabiner.

"You've an accent there, I noticed."

Baffled, Ed gazed back down the road. He saw the muscle car still parked in the lot, the windows tinted and giving away nothing. Turning back around, he had to bite his tongue for fear of calling too much attention to them, since the patio was teeming with other patrons.

He replied with a cross, "What of it?"

"Ho now, I didn't mean no offense. I'm from the heartland of Texas ma'self, but that's prol'ly obvious." Eduardo felt his mouth go slack-jawed, taken aback by the sudden forthrightness of the conversation. "Care to join me, amigo?"

"No thanks."

"It's just that, being a newbie, I figured you could use some friends. Maybe even a sidekick?"

_Sidekick._ _Do any good deeds lately? Always wearing a mask. A real hero._ All Billy's words, all the implications, came crashing down on him in an epiphany. In that moment he realized what they meant, the real reason Billy was so interested in the high schooler.

Because he saw, and he knew.

For a moment Eduardo felt frozen to the spot, all his muscles tight in sudden hesitance. How should he react? What should he say? It wasn't an appropriate environment, right in the middle of the public hub, to be blatant about such a thing. Especially when he didn't want to acknowledge his meta-power, and definitely not to Billy.

So instead he continued his socially flat charade, even though inside he was frantic to flee. "I don't think my parents would be too happy with that, you know?"

A playful grin spread across Billy's face. "Hang on, I ain't 21 yet. Although I still get anything and everything I want."

_There goes the self-important attitude again._ But now Ed had a different feeling towards it: dread. _What does he want from me?_

"Drink much tequila, bubba?"

"Wrong country."

Billy chuckled, and it was obvious he was enjoying the conversation—in fact, he was relishing in annoying the other. "Aren't you a wise, picture-perfect kid?"

"Not really." As Billy offered an omniscient "mm-hmm" Ed hastily threw in, "Still, I have to go."

"Certainly." The older boy leaned back in his patio chair, kicking up his feet onto the wrought-iron partisan which separated the dining area from the sidewalk. "I'll be seeing you 'round again." It wasn't a question, and Ed unconsciously flinched.

Quickly turning away, Ed skated a ways from the café before hopping off and picking up his board, moving in-between the parallel-parked cars. Looking both ways of traffic, he sought an escape by crossing to the other side. Anything to put more distance between them.

And there, already on the other side, was Billy.

He casually waved to Ed.

Suddenly, someone shoved him hard in the back. With no warning, Ed couldn't break his fall in time, tumbling into the street—right into oncoming traffic.

He fell, hearing a horn honking, as he came face to face with the bumper and grill of a car bearing down on him, _fast_. Ed could do nothing else.

He flashed out to the tune of tires screeching. And immediately reappeared back on the edge of the sidewalk, at a safe distance from the now-tilting traffic. Thinking fast, he scrambled to his feet so any witnesses would think he'd made a simple mad-dash.

However, in that instant, he could care less about what they thought they saw.

Standing above him was Billy, and with a burst of anger Ed slammed both his fists against his chest, throwing him back, confrontational.

"What the hell is your problem, man?!"

Billy gave a lop-sided grin, but raised his own hands with palms out. "Cool it, partner. I was just makin' sure you was okay. Nasty spill—"

"¡Diablos! You almost got me killed!"

Billy's voice dropped low. "Awe, c'mon. We both know that wasn't gonna happen."

Hearing the escalating voices of the shoppers and diners around the Common, Ed cautiously checked himself. He was done with this overzealous nonsense! Furiously, he strode out to retrieve his skateboard and backpack, both laying near the front wheels of the vehicle which nearly hit him; he wasn't even aware of the driver cursing at the "damn punks".

Over his shoulder Ed threatened, "Stop following me, or I'll call the cops."

Even in the heat of his rage and the adrenaline wearing off, Eduardo swore he heard Billy warn him in return: "But what if_ I_ ain't _the one_ following you...?"

* * *

**Note:** Since he is now officially in the story: Billy Numerous was created for Teen Titans © David Slack, Glen Murakami, Cartoon Network, and Warner Bros./DC Comics. For those wondering, I have also adopted some aspects of Billy's short-lived comic alter-ego Repro, from DC's Catwoman title © Will Pfeifer and David Lopez.


	3. Better alone than in bad company

**III. ****Mejor solo que mal acompañado**.

Alone, Ed sat on the curb outside the local baseball field, not far from his school. Evening was lengthening into night, and although the daytime temperature was unseasonably high, the weather was growing increasingly colder at night. Ed shivered against the chill; he hadn't expected to be out this late.

After his shocking encounter with Billy, he thought it wise to kill time instead of returning home. Just in case. Ed had circled the main drag in town, stopping at the local arcade to survey the streets, but there was never any sign of the muscle car. After awhile, he dared to go back the way he'd come, back to the high school grounds. Still uneasy, he loitered in the vicinity, street skating until all the half-hearted kickflips and practice grinds got boring.

Now he was unsure of the time, blindly lost in his own thoughts. Frankly, he was worried. It seemed strange someone would be so pleased by his display of superhuman power as to stalk and harass him. Not only that, Billy almost killed him, and for what? To _force_ Ed to use the power again, for his own amusement?

There had to be more to it. Billy was clearly going out of his way for another reason, not merely to tease a kid who could teleport. Ed just didn't know that reason.

And it made him wary. It also made Billy even more unpredictable and dangerous.

The New Mexican sky was still blazing in dusty colors of orange and rose against the horizon, but as the stars were beginning to twinkle in the encroaching darkness, Ed decided to chance going back to the apartment.

It was dark by the time he got home, and as he rounded the corner towards the tall building he was startled to see the flashing blue-and-red lights of a police cruiser. He felt his stomach tighten into a hard knot, panic immediately rising into his chest. After the day he had, it almost felt eerily inevitable...

He jumped off his board, running the rest of the way. He forced through some neighbors curiously lingering outside, the anxiety creating fantastical notions in his mind—but at the forefront was concern for his father. He took the stairs two at a time, noticing there were, in reality, few people outside their doors, but still too overwhelmed to realize the implication in their lax attitudes. When he reached the level his apartment was on, he finally ran into a police officer.

"Slow down there, kid," the man said as they nearly collided.

"¿Mi padre está bien?—My Dad—Is my father okay?" he rambled, not even bothering to wait for an answer but pushing past the officer.

The man grabbed his arm, not unkindly, and began escorting him through the hallway in a rather procedural fashion. Ed sensed no alarm or tragedy in the policeman's grip, and no urgency in his pace, both remaining professionally casual. Eduardo relaxed a bit, reassured.

"You live on this floor?"

"Yes."

"Everyone is fine, but there was a break-in."

"A break-in?"

"Yeah, there was a burglary in 505."

"That's where I live," Ed said, slightly confused, as they were nearing the apartment door.

His father was standing just outside the threshold, talking to another cop and holding a clipboard. Ed's tensions drained from his body in one big breath, a sigh of relief which nearly numbed him completely; his legs grew rubbery and his hands were shaking. He hadn't been so anxiously terrified since Volcano attacked S.T.A.R. Labs. But now overwhelming him were the questions...

"Is this your son, sir?" the officer asked.

Seeing his father alive and well was a reprieve, but his old qualms and distrust of authority came rushing back, and Ed jerked his arm away from the officer with an indignant frown. "What happened?"

"This _is_ my son," Eduardo Sr. said, and the look he gave him made Ed groan inwardly; he knew eventually what would come.

"Have you been home at all today?" The policeman taking his father's report questioned.

"Not since this morning."

"Do you remember seeing anyone suspicious, or maybe an unfamiliar car parked outside?"

"I don't... I mean, not really." Ed didn't know what he should reveal, if anything, but he felt the reason for his late return was none of their business. There was indeed something strange going on, yet it sealed his lips.

"My son does not yet know many people here," his father spoke up. "He has only been living with me for a brief while, having recently moved from Argentina."

"Well, I guess there's no helping it. We'll continue to canvas the area and talk to your neighbors, but as of right now it seems like yours was the only home struck. Sign here, please?"

"But what happened?" Ed asked again, prying for details.

The officer he ran into said, "Looks like you may have left your window unlocked, junior. Someone got up the fire escape there and managed to enter through your room. Unfortunately, it does happen, some thieves just go for opportunity."

_So you're shrugging your shoulders and saying this wasn't personal,_ Eduardo thought mordantly. _They're trying to blame me while claiming there's nothing they can do to correct _my_ fault._ Police weren't of much use here either, it seemed, when they deemed something unavoidable. What was the American phrase? "Shit happens."

But it _was_ his fault. Deep down, he knew who was responsible, and that he'd been purposefully delayed.

"Before we go," asked the second uniform, "would you please do a walk-through and see if you notice something else gone? Something your father may have missed?"

Somberly, Ed nodded and edged past his father, still feeling Eduardo Sr.'s disapproving eyes on him. Once inside, he instantly noticed the flat screen, DVD player, and game console were taken, their designated places in the living room bare, the white wall glaringly empty. He slowly examined the main room with a detachment he didn't expect; it no longer seemed like home but an entirely new environment. There was an obvious vacancy which reminded Ed of his sleeping quarters—what the scientists called a cell—at S.T.A.R.. He hated it.

He was afraid he wasn't much use in the kitchen, but then his father said, "They took much of the contents of the refrigerator." His voice bordered on disgust and bewilderment.

Ed's lips curled back in a sneer. _Billy... _It definitely seemed like something asinine enough for the wildly rash Texan to have done, but how on earth did he manage to take food? He couldn't possibly have eaten it all by himself that fast...

As Eduardo Jr. roamed around the apartment, his fury steadily building, he listened to the police calmly continue telling his father how they would try, but were certain there'd be no recovering the items, or finding the culprit. Ed wasn't so sure about that.

"Prints turned up nothing, which we expected; seems to be a clean job. We'll ask around some of the pawn shops, but it would help if you had warranties with the serial numbers."

A clean job? Obviously, Billy had done it before, breaking-and-entering, since the task was handled in such a way as to indicate practiced skill. He was a professional thief, perhaps? Reckless yet quick to boot, but how did he manage to keep Ed away _and_ have all those big electronics secretly pinched before his father got off work?

Ed had an instance of feeling in over his head and considered throwing it off onto the police. Then the beleaguered sense gave way to vengeful pride, and he decided against it. Most likely, that reaction—fear, worry, break down—was what Billy wanted. He didn't break for the Reach, and he'd be damned if he gave in this time.

Quickening his steps, Ed dropped his backpack and skateboard in the common area and all but ran to his room. He wanted to slam the door closed behind him and hide, but instead he stood in the darkness for a moment, collecting his dire thoughts.

He finally turned on the light and noticed his room was the only one in chaotic disarray. The window was still opened, the drapes fluttering in the night breeze. Everything had been tampered with or trashed, and what wasn't stolen was broken. Even his alarm clock, something cheap and trivial, had had its time changed. Another positive sign of Billy's immature yet devious mind games.

And Ed realized that's exactly what was going on. This was his declaration of war, all part of his game.

But how did he do it?

Thoroughly disliking the fact his private life had been boorishly invaded, Ed turned away. As he did, he couldn't help himself and stepped into his father's adjacent bedroom, only inside the doorway. He wasn't sure what exactly his father kept, but he noticed his standard television set was missing too. Swallowing hard against the guilt, Ed saw no reason to tour further inside, yet he paused long enough to look at the small collection of framed photographs on the dresser.

His eyes rested on an old image of his father and mother on their wedding day, her favorite rosary beads still laying in tribute over the frame. A stir of sadness and a growing shame stabbed him, and he fled the room.

He allowed the officers to show him the compiled list but said he didn't notice anything different. The adults spoke for awhile longer, but after a time he stopped listening to them. It was unimportant now, his thoughts firmly planted on Billy, and his intentions.

Despite his caution, the care he put into keeping the perplexing threat away, he failed. Now he had to fix it. This had just been the next step in whatever mischief Billy had planned, he was certain of it. Eduardo knew he had a new enemy.

And this time he would stand his ground alone.

* * *

"I do not believe this..." As soon as the door was closed, locked, and the bolt and chain now in place, Eduardo Sr. rounded on his son, his mouth already downturned in displeasure. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry," Ed said, the word holding no apologetic trace. "I was at school."

"At this time?"

"Library. I need tutoring to catch up." He inwardly cringed, hearing the defensiveness in the words—in the _lie_—and waited for another verbal fight to ensue.

"What about your phone? I tried calling you many times."

"It's been on mute all day." He'd forgotten to reset the ringer after leaving school. "Sorry," he said again, this time with an actual sense of idiocy and culpability.

His father stood rigidly, slowly appraising his son's response. Although his strong jaw line was set stiffly, a sure sign he was grinding his teeth to hold back his anger, he finally answered, "Next time call me first."

Even though Ed disliked the condescending, dictator-like manner in which he was addressed, right now he knew to keep his pride at bay. After all, he was in the wrong, even lying to cover the real problem. He didn't want to involve his father, and definitely not the scientist side of him, so if he could keep this imminent trouble to himself, Ed would it do for as long as he could.

So he said, "Sí." And left it at that.

* * *

He was supposed to be doing his homework. He claimed to need a tutor so his father wanted to see some definite progress. A statistical report no doubt, Ed had first snickered to himself, still thinking of his father as a lab monitor, not a parent. But the poor relationship within the household quickly faded from his mind, as did the homework. All he could think about was Billy.

Instead of studying, he climbed out onto the tiny fire escape outside his bedroom window, which had only that day betrayed him. It was weird; the lowest-level platform stopped at the third floor, yet the final ladder was still firmly up in its fixed hinge, the track never released. So how did Billy reach the emergency exit? Did he suddenly grow ten feet?

The sense of unknown made him cautious, and he intently watched, waiting for some suspicious sign. There was not much activity at this time of night, during the winter weekdays. They lived in a financially moderate area, the block made up of mostly row-homes and apartments. People here worked hard for a living and most were already asleep, keeping warm in their beds and content with their normal lives.

How Ed envied them. He never missed Argentina, but he did miss the sense of everyday status-quo, a regular life. Being a regular boy. There was a time when he thought an adventure would be good for the soul, which is why he was never afraid of running away. He had a goal, and he knew he could achieve it.

Then the Reach had nabbed him in Panama, where he'd been prepared to stow away on a ship to Mexico, nearly to his destination. He couldn't remember much of the kidnapping itself, knowing he was contained in stasis much of the way. And even though the outcome was the same, proven by the fact he now lived with his father, he hardly had a sense of pride or satisfaction from the _mis_adventure.

Now, Ed couldn't seem to let go of the resentment. He was angry about the whole thing. At the Reach, at the League, at S.T.A.R. and Dr. Dorado—but mostly at himself. He felt like everything he did was wrong.

And now he had to deal with this Billy character too, and whatever the hell he wanted. Billy made Ed feel like some sort of performing monkey, as if he were nothing more than a random foreign object behind bars to ogle, to rattle the cage and find amusement. Like being locked in a lab and studied.

Eduardo detested the feeling, being watched and toyed with. The only way he knew to get out of it was to fight back.

He studied his hands for a moment, flexing his fingers opened and closed. He knew he wasn't a physical match for the college boy, but he still wasn't keen on explicitly using his power. At the thought, his eyes meandered up towards the nighttime sky, finding the softly glowing waxing crescent moon. And he thought about the War World, remembering the battles and how quickly he had adapted to fighting.

While he could admit to being afraid, it hadn't been complicated then. It merely came down to taking action—and not dying.

Swallowing his bitterness, shutting off his thoughts, Ed scanned the streets below one last time. In the quiet emptiness, he turned around and trained his eyes up the side of the apartment complex. He felt the rusted metal of the fire escape railing under his hands, the rungs against his back. Then, like snapping his fingers, he vanished in light, Zeta-traveling skyward.

He reappeared exactly where he wanted, just below the rooftop ledge. Even before he came back onto the earthly plane he was reaching for it, and instantly he grasped the protruding shelf, fingers gripping. Leaving the weightless void, he felt gravity, felt the heaviness in his small frame dragging him down. He struggled, his arm muscles quivering with the strain of holding the bulk, but finally he hauled himself onto the roof with effort.

Spent and already feeling the lactic acid burn through his arms, the pull through his shoulders, Ed sat on the edge unhappily. He watched the road and sidewalks below, breathing hard, worrying he actually was _not_ ready for a fight. This was going to be a problem.

* * *

The boy was such a problem!

Eduardo Sr. sat in his cramped office with nothing but the desk lamp on for light. His right index finger metrically tapped the blotter as he stared into space, wondering what he should do next. After his son had gone to his room, Ed Sr. had tidied his disheveled work-space, manhandled by the cat-burglar, and dug out the phone book. He wasn't proud of the fact, but he was suspicious; Eduardo Jr. seemed to become more withdrawn as soon as he started back in school, and his father was wondering if public school had been the best choice.

Of course, he knew his son would have nothing doing with a private institution. He would see it as another S.T.A.R. and blame him for having to go. The senior Dorado had enough trouble coping with the guilt of what happened to Eduardo, being abducted by aliens and forced to awaken to his meta-power. A power he somehow felt responsible for. He didn't need his son hating him anymore than he already did.

But it was hard to understand him, after so much time apart. Even harder was knowing what might trigger the child to runaway again. But he couldn't stop his paternal instincts from sensing a lie, and, surprisingly after such a long hiatus, they'd been right.

The phone book had a listing for the high school library, including hours of operation. It was closed by 4:30 p.m. and Ed hadn't arrived home until after eight.

With a heavy sigh, Eduardo Sr. decided to let this one slide. His son was only 15 and that age was prone to liberating acts of goofing off. It would be nice to think he was serious about his studies, but given everything that happened to him, it would be better to have him make friends and be an ordinary kid again.

_If_ either were the case. It could be something else...

Still, he didn't want to make too much of a big thing out of it; potentially, the something could be nothing at all. Weighing variables, studying numbers, watching ever-changing data for signs of consistency—those were integral parts of his job. This was home, and he felt a pang of regret as he once more analyzed his son like a risk assessment. It wasn't fair and he had to stop.

So he turned off the lamp and left the office. It did little to cease the thoughts, however, or alleviate the concerns. Eduardo Sr. walked through the dark apartment to the small kitchen, checking his watch as reached in the cupboard for a whiskey tumbler. It was half-past midnight, probably a little late for bourbon instead of bed, but he decided he needed the straight shot to sleep.

Taking the generous amount to the living room, he set the glass on the end table, and as he did he noticed the television remote still in its place. A remote with no TV now. He chuckled to himself dryly. But then, stranger still, he saw a yellow sticky-note resting on top the device. Picking it up, turning it over, Eduardo Sr. shook his head in confusion. The memo held only one hand-written symbol: ÷

He started to crumple the little paper with the obelus mark, then paused. In his peripheral vision he thought he saw a flicker of light, almost as if a bright firefly had flitted by. He turned, waited, but for a time there was only darkness. Then a flash illuminated the hallway, followed by another. He moved quietly into the hall and resulting shadows.

And stopped just outside his junior's room. The momentary luminosity came again, bathing his feet in a fast ray of radiance from beneath the door. It was no faulty light from inside. He knew what the quick succession of animated, golden light meant.

* * *

He felt restless, and very scared.

He was back on the Reach ship, and he saw the line of pods all around the laboratory, a room which looked both organic and metallic at the same time. Well lit, but the atmosphere was poorly ventilated—at least for humans. It felt eternally icy and hollow, how he imagined a hard-shell bug might be.

He couldn't remember ever hearing anything, not even when the computer consoles and science equipment sprang to life. The pod enveloped him like a steel sarcophagus, a vacuum trapping his life inside. And it was so cold, just like a tomb, and each time his brain made the comparison his fears grew. There was no warmth, it was hard to breathe, and there were no sounds.

No sounds... except the aliens. He always knew when one of the Reach was in the room because they chattered noisily, their voices high-pitched and fast. Endlessly, relentlessly, they talked only amongst their own kind in a language that, to Eduardo, seemed like a million insects crawling over his skin.

He was watching them now as they worked, drifting in and out of his field of vision from within the pod, viewing the aliens through a glass panel—like Alice through the looking glass, at this inhuman, desolate world of technology and monsters. He was slave to their whim, and he knew he was going to die.

Die like the dozens of other people who were taken away, unable to protest or escape, forever locked in their pods. For the longest time he never knew where they were taken to. But some of them never came back, their places marked by the empty socket where eventually a new pod-person would be delivered.

The clicking of the alien scientists continued, unconcerned.

And then _his_ time came, the next lab rat to the maze. Except there was no maze, only a designated area of personalized torment and testing. The pod had been attached to some sort of mechanical generator, the primary source pumping energy into the little cell. And never the same kind of energy: thermal, kinetic, electric, radiant—his body had become the outlet for conversion.

The aliens didn't care about the pain they inflicted on the subjects. That obviously wasn't their motivation nor goal. More and more, the intensity grew with every test, seeking more answers, more power. And they never cared about the pain...

Encased in the pod, all alone, with no way to fight back, he felt utterly small and helpless.

_Pap__á__—_

He didn't want to die...

* * *

Eduardo Sr. opened his only child's bedroom door to a random display of blinking light, but he hadn't imagined the scene before him.

Eduardo Jr. was asleep, rolling and writhing atop his bed, locked in the throes of some nightmare. He watched in horror as one minute his son's body turned and thrashed, only to flash out without warning. Then, almost immediately, he came flashing back, clutching the sheets, gasping sharply. Whatever he was dreaming of, Ed was subconsciously trying to escape it.

Rushing to his side, Eduardo Sr. suddenly hesitated. It was fascinating to witness the affects of human psychology on the Zeta-power, but it was also a mystery. He feared being teleported along with his son, ending up nowhere—or somewhere he didn't want to be.

But then, hearing his son's pleading moans and frantic breathing, Eduardo Sr. felt a deep, anxious stab, his heart breaking, and he couldn't let the boy suffer any longer. He placed a large hand lovingly, yet strongly, on Ed's forehead. Kneeling down by the bed, he soothingly whispered his son's name, trying to give him support, trying to call him back.

"_Shh_, mi hijo, Eduardo...Fue solamente una pesadilla. Solamente un sueño..."

Almost instantly the boy found new vigor, like he sensed the guiding presence. He stopped teleporting, and his reactions eased, the battle gradually fading to sleep. His father gently smoothed his hair, usually wild but now slick with perspiration, and took his hand in a firm, comforting grip.

"Mi hijo, _shh_. I'm here."

At last, with a sturdy inhalation, Ed stopped fighting and managed to let go of the nightmare; his chest began to rise and fall in an easier repetition and he lay still. However, his brow remained drawn low, thoughtful and worn, and Eduardo Sr. was certain there would be no peaceful rest for either of them tonight.

Something _was_ going on, he was sure of it now. He felt helpless though, not being able to fully comprehend the problem. He didn't know if his son would trust him enough to ever confide in him, or who he could possibly turn to for answers instead. But at least this night Eduardo Sr. would stay by his side, finally, as a father should.


	4. Bite off more than you can chew

**IV. El que mucho abarca, poco aprieta.**

Stand up and face him. That was his original plan, but unfortunately, as usual, things weren't going in his favor.

Eduardo had skipped his morning classes and took to the streets in the Common, hunting for Billy and positive the other was continuing to follow his every move in turn. Yet neither the college boy, nor his muscle car, ever surfaced. Ed was extremely tired but he was sure his judgment was sound; he still had the impression he was being watched, constantly.

"So _where_ are you?" he whispered to the air.

The feeling never dulled, wicked eyes bearing down on him, and as storm clouds rolled in from the California coast, Ed's mood grayed just as the sky did. Whatever shadows Billy was lurking in, it didn't seem as if he wanted to put in an appearance. So Eduardo had no choice but to give up on the showdown and return to school, uninspired and discouraged.

With the approaching storm's increasing winds following him, Ed was plotting his sneaky entrance into his next available class when he neared the high school grounds. Not wishing to be caught, he cut across the neighboring housing development. He hopped off his skateboard, having no more pavement, and from the grassy lawns he followed the path—a mere rivulet of tamped dirt—through the perimeter. It brought him into the tree-lined border to the school field, behind the municipal buildings.

Atop the hilly edge, Ed could see the very rooftop where he stopped Carlos Romero from committing suicide. He sighed, pessimism blooming at the memory. Is this what good deeds got you?

Well, there was nothing to be done about it now.

Sliding down the steep, Eduardo knew the day was in full-swing and everyone would be engrossed in their mid-morning jobs: teaching, studying, working. He could get back in easily enough. Trudging along with low spirits, he was just crossing the flagstone courtyard when the unexpected struck once again.

Someone suddenly grabbed him from behind, throwing him towards the boiler room stairwell. He managed a strangled, "Hey!" Then it happened all too fast.

Ed felt his right shoulder strike the stair railing, lost his grip on his board, before he realized two more boys were upon him, shoving and forcing him down the stone flight. He noticed the door below was no longer sealed and padlocked; the entrance gaped open like a dark wound, unwelcomingly expectant. Another push, and the next thing he knew he fell on his back at the base of the stairs, a ringing in his ears, hazily aware his backpack tumbled down next to him.

It only took an instant more for the situation to register. He was being ganged up on by the first-day bullies. With a growl, Ed rolled to the side as a sneakered foot drove down by his head, but despite his nimble speed, he couldn't gain his feet in time.

A pair of hands seized his head, and the skate helmet which before seemed like a protection proved harmful as it was used to haul him over the threshold, into the murky basement room. The chin strap cut into the bottom of his jaw, the pressure excruciating, but Ed finally managed to wrangle the clip free; he immediately hurled the helmet and groping hands away.

Only to be met with a toe driven into his gut, winding him. A burst of white-hot pain came with the new air Ed tried drawing into his lungs, but the bullies left him little time to react as they descended on the fallen like a pack of ravenous scavengers, kicking and stomping. The thought that raced through his brain wasn't disbelief or dread; it was anger. This was nothing compared to what he endured at the hands of the Reach...

Feeding off his rage, Eduardo drew his knees up and elbows in to protect himself, and as a foot came hurtling towards his face, he snagged the boy by the ankle, using the other's own momentum to pull the leg out from under the bully. The kid crashed to the ground and, in the resulting astonishment, Ed finally sprang to his feet.

Quickly, he scanned the faces, recognizing the two boys who had guarded the stairs, as well as the portly look-out, who seemed to be using his powerful bulk to do the ordering. _What the hell?_ Why now?

As one, the two still standing drove into his space. Ed ducked a fist but barely succeeded in blocking the subsequent, feeling the knuckles brush against his cheekbone. Instead of backing away, Ed fiercely grabbed the next incoming blow, jerking the boy's arm towards himself and bringing him down—into Ed's upward knee. The impact met the base of the teen's ribcage, felling him. But it remained two against one.

Before he could turn to meet the next assailant, his left arm was twisted at an awkward angle behind his back, another arm across his neck, restraining him.

As Ed struggled, the bulky jock spat out, "Not so high-and-mighty now, huh, you little snitch?"

"¿Me estas jodiendo?" Eduardo replied in a nasty tone. "I didn't—"

A chorus of skeptical titters rose between the bullies, and the pack leader mocked, "Oh, _esé_ here says he didn't go crying to the principle like a bitch. That's not what we heard, after we got _suspended_. Well, this is what you get." He cracked his knuckles. "And _this_ is for getting Bobby expelled, damn s—"

Ed suddenly leaned back into his captor and lashed out with both his legs, catching the jock square in the chest and reeling him backwards. "You deserved it!"

The joint balance was shattered with his force, yet Ed could barely recall the next few moments as the storm outside, and all hell inside, broke loose.

Thunder rattled the upper walls as he and the kid holding him went down. A gust of wind broke through the heavy door, and Ed was vaguely aware of a flash of red as he hit the floor hard, catching himself in a scraping landing.

Only to get wrenched by the hair onto his knees. Aggressively, Ed writhed out of the grip, and allowed his mind to sink into the nothingness for his power, to teleport and win the battle—

But he stopped short with an uttered curse.

He couldn't—he couldn't show them his power, use it against these ordinary punks, not even to escape...

In his hesitation, one of the bullies flung him backwards so brutally he slammed into the boiler, taking the extension pipe against his tailbone, his head whipping back into the tank with a reverberating _thud_. He cried out at the sharp pain up-and-down his spine, his knees buckling. Eduardo felt as if he were shell-shocked, hearing faintly, his vision blurred.

In the dank subterranean room, he could smell rainwater on the cold cement as the storm outside unleashed its own fury onto the world. Beside him, he heard the whistle of water through the boiler. Ed thought he also heard lightning crash, but it had a hollow, high-keening sound as it struck; one of the bullies yelled. And suddenly, Eduardo realized the battle was still raging—only this time he was a witness.

Ed tried to use one of the pipes to support himself, then jumped when the overweight jock was punched against the nearby wall.

Then, a heavy silence fell upon the room, stifling in the dusty, stale air. Thunder rolled.

And a happy laugh echoed victoriously.

"I bet now's the time you're askin' yourself: why me?"

Eduardo was literally seeing red, and as the fog clouding his vision began to clear, he saw a man dressed in a red-and-black leotard jumpsuit standing in the middle of the scrimmage, all three bullies laying unconscious around his feet.

"Qué diablos..." Ed murmured, shaken. "The hell?"

"Obviously, we done tattled on these boys here."

"Then told them it was _you_ who'd done the tattlin'. "

"Well, actually_ I_ did, but same difference."

"It's what they call a frame-up."

Everything was buzzing in his ears, and Eduardo had a difficult time understanding the dialogue; or rather, the group of speakers. The unremitting voices all sounded the same, and it was clearly: "Billy?"

"Hey there, amigo. You doin' alright?" A huge grin flashed over the broad jowls of the college-boy before him, the rest of his face hidden behind a black visor.

Without warning, a hand reached sidelong to help Eduardo stand, and he pulled away when he saw _another_ grinning Billy offering aide.

The deeply stunned gasp echoed off the moldy walls. "Wha—? H-how?"

"Call me _Billy Numerous_, partner." He proudly tapped the large mathematical divider symbol on his chest. "Get it now?"

Eduardo stared at the three faces of Billy Numerous, each one an identical replica of the other, right down to the showy outfit and smarmy expression. But they weren't holograms or mirror-images, each one moved and spoke of his own accord, separate entities. Ed's heart was racing as he tried to fathom the unbelievable sight, his mouth gone dry as he tried to formulate a query.

"There's _three_ of you?"

"Heh, right now." When Ed began to open his mouth again, Billy explained, "There's as many of _me_ as I want. It's all in the _power_."

Of course. "You're a meta-human?"

"If'n that means super-villain, than I reckon so."

At the gloating tone, another Billy coughed into his fist. "In training."

Ed swallowed hard, feeling dizzy. "Were you kidnapped by the Reach, too?"

"Reach... Reach..." He tapped his lower lip, pondering.

"Wasn't that a weird soda they made last year?"

"Them aliens, you ninny!"

The first Billy barked a laugh and dramatically planted his fists on his hips. "Naw, somethin' this incredible can't be _made_."

The initial confusion was fading away, all sense of dismay now becoming apprehension. Eduardo wasn't prepared to face another meta-human; indeed, he hadn't even considered the possibility before. But it explained everything. Almost.

Except the question that had been hounding him for days: "What do you want from me?"

"Why, I done told you that before, my little Latino friend. Everyone could use a useful sidekick." At Ed's blank expression and raised eyebrow, the Billy speaking strode forward and squatted down in front of him, casual. "See, the boys and me, we're gettin' a mite tired of the petty thievery. It was fun at first, still is profitable and, like I said, I get anything and everything I want. But it's time to move up in the world."

"Plus, I'm gettin' bored o' these jokers."

"Hey!"

"So when I seen you teleport through the air, it got the ole' wheels turnin'. We got complementary gifts, in fact. I got the means to move mountains, you got the means to sneak inside, real James Bond like. Museums, Vaults, even dang Fort Knox! Fella, there ain't nothin' we couldn't steal."

He stood suddenly, unaware that Ed flinched away, gazing on the modern-day outlaw with distrust. The red-clad villain-in-training spread his arms wide as if he were a showman on stage and said, "Imagine it, amigo: Billy Numerous and El Dorado! We'd be a fearsome team!"

"El Dorado?"

"Pretty cool, huh? _Ed Dorado_. City of Gold, which is what we could have if we joined forces. Split ya 60/40, since I have the contacts and there's more of me puttin' in the effort."

Eduardo had to fight to hold in his bitter, snide laugh. It was ridiculous! "You did all _this_ for a new Robin, is that it?" Ed couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice.

"Hey, I'm not such a bad guy—Well, that one there is, but not me."

"Everything I done I knew you could handle."

Suddenly, the Billy in center stage became dark, his smirk downturned into a frown. "But I just don't get why you won't use them powers of yours."

Forever a touchy subject to Eduardo, he snapped, "Like you?"

"Well, _yeah_."

"Did you see how fast we took down them brats?"

"You'd rather get a smack-down than _poof!_ move around all quick-like and kick some butt? 'Fraid I just don't get it. And I'm profoundly disappointed."

"Get used to it," Ed muttered thickly.

_He's insane! He knows nothing about me but he's willing to risk exposure for a chance I'd join him? _It wasn't right; it didn't any make sense. Billy had tried physically hurting him, invading his life, and it was assuredly _not_ to make friends...

"What if I say no?"

A ruthless Cheshire Cat grin spread across the masked faces, slowly, one at a time. Until one of them replied with an evil amusement, "Then, bubba, get ready for a wild ride. 'Cuz that would make you the hero to my villain."

_A nemesis._ Eduardo felt his fears renewed, knowing now what Billy wanted, what he was truly capable of. More than that, what he would happily do with his dividing power and sinister copies. Could Ed match him alone? Could he stand up to Billy Numerous—and win?

"We'll give you some time to mull it over."

"In the meantime, you might wanna skedaddle before these boys here come 'round."

The third Billy merely laughed heartily.

* * *

"¿Te metiste en una pelea?" The instant the door swung on its hinges Eduardo Sr. was in the foyer, his eyes piercing as he gazed on his son's bruised face. The question was asked in vague worry, but mostly anger and disbelief.

"No es nada," Ed mumbled with as much anger, turning away from his father and making for his room. He was tired and battered, overwhelmed, and this was the last thing he needed to deal with right now.

"Don't you walk from me when I'm speaking," his father's voice intoned. There was authority in his direct statement, but also an undefined awkwardness.

Rolling his eyes, Ed turned back around and waited, aloof towards the demand. Eduardo Sr. stepped closer and took his son's chin between two fingers, tilting his face to get a look at the damage: the discolored marks, peeling scraps, and red welts on his jaw. His father disapprovingly shook his head, and Ed waited for the admonishment.

But instead Eduardo Sr. said, "There is someone here to see you." And as he spoke, he moved aside to allow the visitor be known.

Eduardo Jr. gave a start when Arsenal appeared from the living room, an easy smile on his face. A fresh sense of foreboding fell upon the boy, not understanding why an unmasked Arsenal, of all people, had shown up at this doorstep.

"Hey, Ed," he greeted, approaching the teen with his hand extended. Eduardo refused to shake it, so Arsenal let his hand fall nonchalantly, the pleasant expression never fading. "Do you mind if we talk for a bit?"

"Talk?" Up close, Ed couldn't help but think how poorly exile was treating the former team-player. He appeared to have aged by quite a few years, fine lines appearing around his blue eyes and uncharacteristic warm smile.

"Talk to him, mi hijo. I will fetch the first-aid kit while you do," his father urged.

The beseeching tone surprised his son, and a twinge of guilt went through him again. So Eduardo sighed, and allowed the redhead to lead him to the seating arrangement while his father disappeared.

But he couldn't stop the irritated manner in which he addressed the guest. As Ed flopped down in the leather recliner, rather unhappily, he asked, "What do you want, Arsenal?"

The smile deepened, unperturbed by the attitude. "Oh, I'm not Arsenal." At Ed's lifted brows, he added, "We're... related. You can just call me Roy."

"Okay," Ed said, confused.

With the new bit of information, he could clearly see another difference between the two. Besides the outward maturity, there was a significant mellowness, an acute understanding, about Roy which only came from years of overcoming strife. He wasn't the hot-headed, serious teenager that Arsenal was; this man was a honed adult, in the prime of his life and knowing where he belonged.

Ed folded his arms over his chest, guarded. "So why are you here?"

"Your father asked me to come."

"How do you know my Dad? You a superhero, too?"

"I was. I suppose you could say I'm in the reserve forces, but on the team I go by Red Arrow."

Yes, Eduardo remembered him now. He'd seen him only briefly during the Reach's end game, but having declined the offer to join the Young Justice team Ed knew nothing of the man behind the nom de guerre. Unimpressed, Ed shrugged his shoulders in anticipation.

"I'm a full-time father now, but I work with troubled teens in multiple schools."

Ed shook his head, feeling his indignation against his own father building. "Troubled how?"

On the sofa across from him, Roy leaned forward and draped his arms over his knees, attempting to keep the conversation idle and relaxed. Informally, he replied, "Usually drug addictions, but I've been through worse besides."

"I don't do drugs!" Eduardo Jr. said quickly, offended. "Why would my Dad think that?"

"He didn't. Apparently, it came up between the police officers yesterday."

Ed blanched, feeling oddly betrayed and embarrassed.

"Cops, they go through all the scenarios when a culprit isn't obvious. They theorized if perhaps you stole the items to pawn." Roy spoke in an even manner, his approach laid-back and concerned. Ed got the sense his care wasn't feigned, and it took some of the edge off his words.

With wounded pride, dropping his head into his hands, Ed mumbled, "I don't believe this."

"Neither did your father, but it made him think of me nonetheless." Roy let a quiet moment pass, allowing the teen to come to terms with the suggestions and veiled accusations. Finally, he asked, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Ed lifted his head and looked directly at him, glaring. "Like what? I already said, I didn't pawn the stuff for drug money."

"Like, what happened today? Does the other guy look worse?"

He had no compunction towards the school bullies, so Ed merely said, "They ganged up on me, but I did not start it."

"Is that why you're angry?"

"Who says I'm angry?"

"Well, the perpetual frown on your face for starters." Roy grinned with good humor, although even Ed knew the statement was accurate. "And the defensive question throw-down is another sign."

When the teenager looked away, uncertain and shielded, Roy leaned back and said, "You know, Ed—at the risk of making a clichéd counselor remark—you remind me of myself. It's all right out in the open. The silent rage, the distrust, feeling abandoned by everyone around you. It hurts, doesn't it? Having that much anger... especially when you hate yourself for not being able to fix it."

At first, Eduardo thought Roy was merely taking his side and feigning likeness to win him over. But there was something heartfelt in his rich voice, a sort of nostalgic pain and deeper understanding. Ed found himself agreeing, softly. "It is hard."

"Harder after the abduction."

It didn't seem like a question, but Ed felt the prodding for a response. Falling into a sullen stupor, sinking deeper into the seat, Ed muttered gruffly, "I don't know. My Dad makes it out to be his next great achievement, but..."

Remembering his father was still in the house and the very reason for Roy being there, he clipped the dialogue short. "Anyway, it's not the first time I've been picked on. I was in fights back home."

"I hear the resentment in every word, Ed. And there's nothing wrong with feeling that way. We're all entitled, we all live through different versions of hardship. Everything about _my_ past was a lie, and it was difficult to cope at the worst of times. It wasn't something easy to face, let alone overcome. But it's possible, with time and acceptance."

Ed cast a glance at Roy, a.k.a. Red Arrow, and wondered about the anonymity behind his words, curious of his story. There was a distinct connection there, just the manner the man sat in reflection gave Ed the sense of empathy and camaraderie. It was hard to hold onto his darker feelings in such a presence.

As if picking up on the released tensions, Roy added, "Just like I'm certain it was hard for your father, too."

"He made the choice, not me."

Roy's lips pulled thin in a sympathetic, sad smile, almost appearing apologetic. For a moment it seemed he didn't know what to say, and Ed assumed he was trying to pick a side between father and son; his eyes wandered to the windows, a far-off, considerate expression coming to his face as he watched the gray clouds outside. When he did speak again it was rather serious.

"It's tough being a parent sometimes, particularly if you weren't prepared. Suddenly, there's so much more at stake, so much more you feel you need to do, because it's no longer about yourself. And it's not easy making those decisions."

Ed knew he was speaking from his own personal experience, having said he was also a father, and yet he had another stab of shame. There was something so close to grief in Roy's voice, as well as a fear of failing in the eyes of another, and it made Eduardo recall his childhood when he _did_ have his father in his life. Between then and now, he had not only his resentment, but also adoration—enough to have run away from Argentina for. Perhaps he was more like his father than he thought?

Blinking, Roy came back to himself and turned to face Ed. "I'm sure it's much the same for you. First, there was life without your father, before the Reach. And then, suddenly, life after the kidnapping and with him. You had no middle ground, no safe haven, to get used to each other, only your time at S.T.A.R. Labs. But you can't let yourself stay trapped like that forever, Ed."

A lump had suddenly formed in his throat, and Eduardo could only nod.

"You're a good kid, Ed. A _normal_ kid. I don't think you need an intervention or counselor's advice."

Ed felt drained, the beating coming back to him with sore limbs, aching bones and stinging scabs, but more so from a vast array of morphing emotions running through him. Indirectly, Roy's opinions had an impact on his current troubles and gave him a grave idea.

"But if you ever need a friend's ear, I'll always be available to listen." As he stood to leave, Roy offered his hand again in farewell. This time Ed took it.

"And remember, you _do_ have other friends, one of which I know for a fact misses you. Of course you're more than welcome to give him a call too." With a sense of comprehension, as if he appreciated the joint history with the aforementioned, Roy added, "Sometimes you might not want to confide in the business-like adults, right?"

Trying to hold back the burden of the past few weeks, not wanting anything suspicious to show in his eyes, Eduardo lifted his shoulders in a shrug. It seemed Red Arrow knew much about being a young, precocious superhero with authority issues.

"You don't always have to be alone. Okay?"

"Okay." And Ed meant it. The support he received from Roy brought him a lifted mood, yet darker planning, and he was already prepared to make the call...

* * *

He was prepared to do it.

The arrangement was made, and as midnight came and went, Eduardo had fully convinced himself he was doing the right thing.

He couldn't help but draw similar conclusions, especially after hearing from Red Arrow, pondering the past and whether or not his father had "run away" from Argentina in the same manner, thinking it was for the best.

But Ed felt certain tonight, after all was said and done, his running away again was for the best, for both of them. It was unfair to put his father through so much grief, in fact to endanger his life, because of his failure to live with his power and blockade Billy Numerous. There was no question in his mind that should he face Billy, he would ultimately put his father at risk as well, and he didn't know if he could be the much needed line of defense. Billy had already threatened and was bound to be ruthless if he gave his answer. Because he'd have to say _no_.

So Ed shoved a few belongings and clothing into his backpack, took up his skateboard, and by 1 a.m. he quietly slipped out the front door and down the apartment hall. With every step he felt more of the burden lifted from his shoulders, but also his heart sinking further and further. He could only imagine what Eduardo Sr. would think, yet he could do nothing else. For now, it was best to put distance between them, for safety's sake.

Outside on the landing, the night welcomed him desolately. There was a weighty chill in the air, frigid perhaps enough to create frost, and the sky above was still riddled with low clouds. Of course, the hour was so late and the sidewalks were empty; there'd be no one to note the direction he fled. He didn't even feel Billy's piercing surveillance, yet he hoped one of him was still watching, so he'd know his "nemesis" was gone for good.

Ed slowly set his board down, but as soon as he put one foot atop the deck, a voice spoke softly from behind:

"You forgot this."

Startled, Ed spun around to face his father, who was holding his helmet out for him to take. The usually critical and livid expression was now one of repentance, as if he'd been expecting his son to run away again. Still, it did nothing to diminish the hurt in his eyes, and Eduardo Jr. felt his heart completely shatter, devastated he must face this parting.

For awhile silence hung over father and son, both unable to find the words. Despite the offering, Eduardo Sr. was not able to voice acknowledgment of the fact his boy was leaving, not even whether or not he was disapproving or accepting of the decision. And Ed just didn't know how to explain, or if he should even try. How do you say good-bye in such a way?

But finally his father said heavily, "Must you do this again?"

Ed dropped his eyes and sighed loudly. "It's not what you think."

"I know it has not been easy, mi hijo—with me. I hoped you would understand..." He broke off, faltering for something meaningful to say. But his father couldn't overcome the awkwardness, having too many fights and missing years weighing down on them. So he said instead, with some hope, "If you are in trouble at school, I can help."

With every word, Ed could feel his resolve weakening, the pleading sound in his father's voice making him feel incredibly small and awful. He felt his face flushing, his hands clammy, and he was at a loss. He mumbled, "No. I... It's not because of you."

Eduardo Sr. shook his head miserably. "Something is wrong, but you should not keep running from trouble. Even in your recent sleep you were running, teleporting yourself away from whatever nightmare this is."

"I was?" Ed had no recollection, no notion he could actually do such a thing without willing it. But his father had never been there in his childhood for any other feo sueño, so he said, "A nightmare doesn't matter."

"Sí, it does." There was an inflection of ire in the words, but as his father continued they grew into a sort of pathetic sadness. "It was hard to watch, knowing I could not help you. I am a scientist, I need to know and understand... and I do not. All I know is I fail you."

Ed didn't need to look his namesake in the eye to know he was being truthful, and it surprised him, never really seeing such an open softness to his unswerving, strident father before. It rather stung Ed to realize _he_ brought it out of him. And he realized he couldn't bear it.

His father sighed, a deep breath of regret. "Before, I might have thought I was too lenient on you, Eduardo." His son cringed, an old sense of antipathy swelling. "Yet, as much as I dislike it, you are grown, no longer the boy I remember. And despite everything, I am proud of you, mi hijo. You have struggled, more horribly than I could imagine, and I understand if you do not wish to speak of it."

Feeling the weight of those words, the emotions buried there, Ed looked back at his father and saw frustrated tears in his eyes. He didn't know what to say, wasn't even sure he could brave to discern his own emotions. _Por favor, simplemente parar,_ he begged silently. _Just stop and let me go, please._

"I just..." Eduardo Sr. had to clear his throat before continuing. "It is your choice, I will respect it. I just want you to know, mi hijo—I want you to stay with me. You are all I have left."

It was overwhelming him now, the tightness in his chest, a burning in his eyes, his throat constricted to hold back the sorrow. Ed felt himself slipping, but fought it down.

"It is _your_ choice." Eduardo Sr. held out the helmet again, his hand visibly shaking.

"I—" Ed's voice cracked, and he had to swallow the sentence.

The hesitation was unbearable, the decision now too hard to make. All he could bring himself to do was reach out and take the offering in both hands, an automatic response. His father released the helmet slowly, unyielding, a tenseness over his entire body as if he'd stopped breathing. Lost, Eduardo Jr. looked at his father, sidelong, not trusting himself. Only to see Eduardo Sr. nod sadly, his eyes dreadfully glassy.

Eduardo Jr. felt everything wash over him in one fell swoop—his childhood grief, his teenage hopes, the Reach ship, the past few weeks against Billy. And suddenly, he remembered fleeting images from his nightmare last night, and what his father said. It was just a dream, but somewhere deep inside he knew his father had been there with him, holding his hand. And he said he was afraid; there was none of the scientist in him when his father admitted to failing his son. Could he leave his new life now, with his father being so honest and stricken? Ed knew the answer.

And when his father started to turn away from him, Ed finally found strength to voice it.

"Papá... I want to stay."

Eduardo Sr. seemed stunned to hear the affectionate words, and even though Ed's voice was meek and almost self-conscious, the answer itself was confident. His father's staggered helplessness faded fast into a relieved, happy smile, appreciation brightening his grateful eyes. He stood aside, carefully, as if he feared his son would change his mind, and once again he gave Ed the option.

He wasn't sure if it was the right choice, but everything he thought before vanished in that one heartfelt instant with his father. He honestly did _not_ want to leave him again, to be the one to abandon the other. So Ed looked away from the long, dark road he had planned to travel and instead walked back up the threshold to the apartments—back home.

And as he reached his father's side, Eduardo Sr. put an arm around his shoulders and drew his son into him, hugging him close. Feeling the fierce embrace, knowing his father was on the verge of crying too, Ed could no longer choke it back, letting the tears into his eyes.

His father kissed his head and whispered, "Mi hijo, te amo. Never forget that."


	5. I won't leave and let you fall behind

**V. No me iré ni te dejaré atrás****.**

"Ed, my man! ¡Qué bueno verte de nuevo!"

Despite the rough night, there was a glimmer of hope when he opened the door and saw Virgil Hawkins grinning brightly. As Eduardo clapped his hand into the offered arm, he felt a rush of familiarity wash over him. With a smile, he instantly pulled Virgil to him in a brotherly hug. He didn't realize it before, but he missed him a great deal; their little runaway group was perhaps his first real family since leaving Argentina and his memories of them as individuals—as _friends_—were affectionate.

"So you finally learned some Spanish, hermano," Ed laughed.

"Yeah, but that's about the extent of my dialogue. For now. See, being in the superhero gig you have to learn all the major languages. Never know where you'll be deployed next."

At the word _superhero_, Ed's smile faded. The tremendous enthusiasm in Virgil's voice set him on edge, and he felt slightly irked at the notion of it being a career. But the other boy went on without noticing.

"It's crazy! I got so many different versions of _hello_ in my head, I feel like my mind's movin' in fast forward."

"Yeah," was all Ed could muster in response.

Coming into the apartment, Virgil said in a more subdued manner, "I have to admit, I was surprised when I got your first call last night. But relieved when you called back."

Ed had the good graces to look ashamed. "Sorry. I hope it wasn't an inconvenience?"

"Hey, don't worry," Virgil said with a dismissive wave. "I would'a gladly holed you up for awhile. I just didn't wanna see you run away from your Dad again. So where is your Dad?"

"Work. "

"Did you tell him what's goin' on?"

Ed shook his head. "I started this mess wanting to keep him out of it. I plan to finish it that way."

"Then tell me instead. I need details if I'm gonna help."

Drawing a deep, almost reluctant breath, Ed began the story which started with his sporadic rescue of the bully victim, and ending, awkwardly, on the decision he made last night. At the description of Billy Numerous and his meta-power, Virgil's eyebrows lifted in astonishment, remaining that way until Ed lapsed into silence.

Finally, Virgil said thoughtfully, "Shit, man. Okay, so this guy's a fairly common criminal. Do you think that's really what he wants from you, too?"

"No, I never believed that," Ed said bluntly. "He may want a team, to move up as some sort of villain, but I think he would rather screw with me than have me on his side. This is about the fight, not the partnership."

"But either way he'd get what he wants." Virgil pulled a smartphone from his pocket. He began sliding screens and pushing buttons, saying, "Team's network of databases. Comes in handy for life's little flukes like this, and I wanna see if this dude's on the grid."

A few more beeps, then: "And... he's not. Though I am findin' some local Taos news articles, and looks like commercial theft is on the rise, only recently. Probably him."

_Figures,_ Eduardo thought to himself. Billy wasn't into stealing from homes—just his.

"So what do you wanna do?"

"Take him down."

"Well, this is definitely something for the Team. No ordinary cop would stand a chance tryin' to catch the likes of him."

"I can do it."

"You mean, _we_ can do it." Virgil pumped his fist into the air with a grin. "Go Team Runaway."

Ed actually laughed, but then a sense of inadequacy fell upon him. "I'm not sure if my power is at your level, though. I wanted out, remember."

Virgil gave a thoughtful sigh, and for a moment he hesitated with his words. "Ya know, Ed, I always felt bad for you, man."

"How do you mean?" A stir of apathy came over him, and Ed wasn't sure he wanted to be filled in on the details, the first he'd heard of them.

"You constantly said you wanted a _cure_ for your power, like it was a disease—like you were _dying_ or somethin'. I thought it was sad, and sorta annoying." Good-natured Virgil jostled him; Ed shrugged with a half-hearted grin.

But then an auspicious air came over Virgil and he said with pride, "But what if it ain't an alien infection? What if it was just something _inside of you_, a natural talent you always had? That's how I feel about mine. It's a gift, something that only I can do. It kinda makes me feel special."

_Special?_ Before all of this started, Ed might have had the gumption to fight Virgil's poignant beliefs. After all, _normal_ people only had natural gifts, natural genes. But right now, he knew he needed not only Virgil with him to face this battle, but his power as well. He needed to fight fire with fire, and for the first time since their attack on the War World, Ed felt comfortable coming to terms with his ability. Whether or not he believed it was a gift like Virgil said, he still wasn't sure. Yet it was there, and it was his.

"Well, it better come in handy now," was all he said in response, unrelenting.

"Hell yeah, it will!" Virgil beamed, and he almost looked excited. "So you got a plan? 'Cuz we all know I ain't the Plan Man."

"He will want his answer today, so I know he's coming for me. We need to get to the _original _Billy."

"That might be harder than we think. Sounds like he has his copies doin' all his dirty work. However, I can go to S.T.A.R. and get an inhibitor collar, to keep him from copying once we nab him."

For a moment, Ed was unsure of letting his friend go to the labs where his father worked, and he was absolutely not going there himself. But if they were going to make a citizen's arrest, they needed something to imprison not only the college boy, but his powers as well. Ed had no choice but to agree. "But," he added, "I need to stay here. I can't... I need to keep him away from my Dad. And it is me he wants."

"I understand." Virgil nodded. "This Billy Numerous knows nothin' of who I am or what I do, so I doubt he'll follow me. But do you think splitting up is a good idea?"

Ed smirked, although his eyes showed nothing but worry. "No idea," he said, mimicking Virgil's infamous phrase. "But it's all we got."

* * *

S.T.A.R. Labs was exactly as he remembered it, but Virgil no longer had any bad memories of the facility. Even though he'd been the first to suggest escape, sick of the lock-down as much as the others, he wasn't one to hold onto the resentment that the testing had instilled in them. He didn't have anything against the scientists; in fact, their expertise was invaluable to his work now.

But getting in wasn't as easy as he expected since the woman at the front desk didn't appreciate his teenager charm, or believe him when he said he had clearance. In point of fact, he _had_ brought his pass card along—it was in his duffle with his suit; despite the lack of details he received from Eduardo over the phone, he had enough foresight to heed the suspicions his friend's entreaty had brought.

He was just digging in his bag for that pass when a familiar, Spanish-accented voice said: "Virgil? What are you doing here?"

_Oh crap._ Strike that: "Oh hey! Mr. Dorado, how you doin'?"

Virgil tried to keep his expression from falling, but the senior Eduardo seemed leery of the boy's presence. He waved a hand at the receptionist to signal everything was fine, and the woman went back to her work, letting Dr. Dorado escort the teenager inside.

"What brings you?" Eduardo Sr. asked again as they walked down the main building hallway. There was a hint of misgiving in his tone. "Are you in town to visit Eduardo?"

"Tower business, mostly. Training stuff." Virgil sidled around the truth, even though what he said wasn't a flat-out lie. "Of course I'll stop by and see Ed. I mean, how can I not?" He smiled promisingly.

And felt a little skittish when Dr. Dorado eyed him curiously, his gaze seemingly trying to penetrate the boy for some inner truth or hidden knowledge. Finally, rather cheerless and dejected, the older man said, "Sí, you were all very close."

"I guess it sorta happened that way."

Through the maze of halls and doorways, they came to Dr. Eduardo Dorado Sr.'s office, and in an almost haunting way, Virgil could remember hearing all the father and son fights echoing from inside. Before it had been awkward and tiresome, "same old" as Ed Jr. once described it, but now they seemed sensitive and sad; he knew their small family was trying, even if they were constantly falling down. He could tell by the browbeaten way Ed's Dad was dragging himself through the day, his demeanor absent. Virgil felt sorry for Dr. Dorado as well.

Into the office, Eduardo Sr. continued, "My son has been having a difficult time lately. I even called him out of classes today." Following along, Virgil couldn't help but note the defeated tone. Collapsing into his desk chair, the scientist added, "Not much else I can do, I fear."

Virgil offered a sympathetic smile, saying, "Yeah, Ed's a pretty stubborn guy."

"Family tree," was all the father said. "Is there anything the Erdel Initiative can help you with?"

"Nah. But you can Zeta me back to San Fran after I visit Ed."

Dr. Dorado nodded tiredly. Pulling out a desk drawer, he said, "Let me give you a clearance pass then."

Virgil was about to decline, remembering his own still buried in his duffle, but as the scientist dug through his desk, Virgil caught a glimpse of a small gun case hidden under papers and folders. Leaning in curiously, he figured after Volcano's attack one couldn't blame the employees, having no superhuman abilities themselves. But he mused on the Dorado family's current, yet well founded, paranoia.

And Virgil couldn't help but to ask, "Are you okay?"

Ed Sr.'s brows rose in a sort of astonished gratitude. "Fine. I am sure everything will be fine, gracias. And I do hope you can bring Eduardo a better mood."

There was something heartrending in his manner, and Virgil found himself saying with a hero's assurance, "I'll do my best."

* * *

Virgil had arrived late midday, and as the afternoon wore on towards early evening, Ed was starting to notice his paranoia building. Originally, he never meant to drag anyone else into his mess, and now he wondered if it had been the best idea. It felt like one of those bad horror movies, when the cast separates and the audience can only snicker at the poor inventiveness, knowing what would come...

But finally Virgil texted him to say he had the device and was on his way back.

Eduardo sighed with a sense of profound relief, knowing his friend and father were both fine. _That's because it is_ you _he wants..._ he reminded himself again. And that made him worry. Why hadn't Billy come for him earlier?

Where was the stage for their showdown set?

Absentmindedly, Ed began snapping his fingers, listening to the high clicking sounds as his mind wandered. And that's when he decided to forget the sitting around and waiting. Instead, he went out onto the fire escape to watch the streets. He hoped Virgil would magically appear but knew it would take awhile yet for even a cab to make the journey. In fact, there was no one about.

So Ed repeated his brief trip from the previous night, teleporting himself up to the roof of the complex. Standing atop the building, his line of sight traveled across every other rooftop, and he could see the Common retail stores and offices away in the distance. Without reflecting, Ed suddenly snapped his power to use, traveling across the path of his vision and reappearing on another roof further in town.

He was closer to the Common now, but he still could not see his high school, let alone the highway that stretched towards S.T.A.R.. And looking down, he saw no sign of Virgil yet either. A crisp wind lifted his hair from his face, a feeling of winter on the air, and even though he didn't sense the cold, Ed shivered. The waiting was driving him crazy!

Eduardo teleported across the street, then back again, remembering what he'd said to Virgil not too long ago. Was his power ready to lead the charge? Was he himself ready to take down Billy Numerous, having tried so desperately to get out of the game?

Ed kept teleporting from rooftop to rooftop, almost to the point he felt like he must resemble the Flash, whipping across the place. He had such a sense of urgency it made him snap out faster and faster. Stopping back at his own apartment building, he actually had to halt and catch his breath. Gazing out over the town, taking in the vista of the dry mountains to the east, he wondered... Would his power take him across the open sky, towards that range? He'd never attempted teleporting many miles before, and yet it wouldn't do him any good now.

This battle would be face-to-face. Just like it started.

And then Eduardo turned back in the direction of his school, realizing, of a sudden, where the showdown would take place.

He was just about to bring out his cell when unexpectedly: "You'ra real predictable fella!"

Ed barely had the chance to gasp before he felt the impact of Billy Numerous' blow from behind, sending him reeling. Catching himself in a crouch, Ed saw two Billy's, wickedly grinning, and then he flashed out. He traveled to the next building, only to discover four more duplicates waiting for him.

"Heh! With no real imagination on how to use them powers of yours."

Ed cursed, then quickly teleported himself again. This time he reappeared where his eyes fixed, in the air above the fire escape. If he could get back inside, seal the windows and doors—

He didn't have the opportunity to try it.

A Billy was already on the escape waiting for him, and two more were quicker still when they snatched at him, hauling the littler teenager across the ledge. Ed's thoughts were whirling, his brain grasping at plans which were no better than straws.

Suddenly the two copies pitched him over the side, and he could hear their ruckus of taunting and cheering. The natural instinct of panic was short-lived, and Ed spun himself mid-air so he could _see_ the plummet—the pavement of the alleyway stories below him. And he teleported again.

Snapping back onto the plane, he landed safely in the dark way between the apartment buildings, skidding. He turned, ready to run towards the public sidewalk, but there were already Billys waiting for him, more than he could even count in his haste. He backed off, sensing the other red-clad copies behind him.

_This isn't right,_ the thought raced through his mind. Somehow he knew this wasn't the final game yet.

But Ed was still prepared to go down fighting nonetheless.

He revolved around on his heels, and as soon as his eyes saw what he needed, he traveled. The light took him behind those at his back, and he materialized above them, coming down with heavily booted feet atop their heads. He heard the identical cries of surprise and pain, felt the twin impacts to the cement in a grossly solid thud, and flashed out again. Behind another copy, he kicked that one in the small of the back, sending him headlong into another lot. Then _flash_.

He came back deeper into the alley, and suddenly he heard a screeching sound as a mob of whooping and hollering Billys shoved a dumpster at him, the ancient, rusted wheels grinding the pavement in protest. Ed had no fear of being crushed into the back wall, instead vanishing. He wasn't even present for the loud crash, but he did come back above the receptacle; he landed on the closed compartment lid. _Flash_.

Eduardo couldn't keep it up, the constant blinding light of his power was making him dizzy. But he kept pushing forward, every time he re-emerged from the Zeta beam he tried to take down one of the Billy Numerous knock-offs. They kept coming, as if there was no limit to the number of copies to be made. Ed was sweating, and he knew he was trapped.

With a last effort, Ed looked for the mouth of the alley, ready to teleport away, but the dividing continued with an atrocious, jubilant glee. He could feel the Numerous gang's excitement, each face wearing a recklessly eager smirk, each wanting a go at him. Ed felt the world spinning, watching the copying continue, seeking his own clear path to escape.

_No good... No way out..._

As if Billy and his boys tired of the one-on-one, the lot of them inside the alley suddenly dog-piled the teenager, knocking him to the ground. The weight was crushing what breath he had left clean out of his lungs, and Eduardo knew he was going to pass out. _¡Maldita sea!_

"Hot dang, we got him!"

"Go easy on him now, boys. It ain't over yet."

"Well, well, well... Twenty-four hours is up. Whaddya say, El Dorado?"

What he assumed was the original Billy stood over the struggling assortment of limbs and bodies, grinning from ear to ear. Ever the colorful character, he lifted a gloved hand to his ear, waiting for his answer.

Ed had enough left to spit at his feet and say, "No."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Since I seen you already got a partner."

_Dammit! Virgil—_

The last thing Ed remembered was the flash of black treads as Billy's foot shot into his face. And then the darkness took him.

* * *

Virgil knew immediately something was wrong. There was a stillness inside the apartment building he didn't remember before. And when he reached 505, he stopped cautiously outside the entryway. Slowly, warily, he lifted a fist and rapped lightly on the door...

And it swung in against his touch.

Keeping his back to the wall, safely outside the yawning mouth of the doorway, Virgil put the flat of his hand against the door and carefully pushed it opened all the way. When no surprises sprung on him, he called hopefully into the interior, "Hello? Ed, man, you there?"

It was dark within, but Virgil braved going inside to investigate. It was obvious Ed had left, but what wasn't so apparent was why he'd gone without him. "I don't like this..." Virgil muttered to himself as he checked every room for a sign of reasoning—or foul play.

Inside Eduardo Jr.'s room, he paid close attention to the window wide open, even looking out of it to the fire escape. But otherwise everything seemed as one would expect. Yet he dawdled around the home, scanning each detail. The winter sun was setting fast, and when he finally turned on the light in the foyer, he started to close the front door–

And found a note taped to the inside: _Meet me at the high school._

Something screamed at him, warning him the message was not of Ed's making. His friend would have called him instead; he would have waited.

"I don't like this," he said again. It could only mean one thing: Eduardo was in trouble.

But clearly, the trouble was waiting for him, too, at the school grounds. Virgil knew he had to be ready for anything. Including this trap.

* * *

The world was engulfed in twilight when he left the Dorado apartment via the fire escape; Virgil was fully geared up in black-and-yellow and not wishing to draw attention to himself in his superhero role. With a pulse of electricity the final thing he brought unfolded, the Static Saucer giving him a quicker ride to the high school.

Static just prayed he wasn't too late.


	6. Live for the dying

**VI. Vivir para los moribundos.**

Through the darkness, Static rode the electromagnetic field at ground level, coasting across the empty area of the high school. He glided around each building, watchful to any sound and movement—so far there was nothing. Inside, he could see the reflection of lit night generators, the glare from computers still active. But otherwise the public structures were void of life; everyone had gone home for the day.

_Come on, Ed,_ he wished silently. _Gimme a sign or somethin'. Anything! _He was just maneuvering across the pavement of the rear employee parking lot when he thought his wish had been granted. There was a quick, darting rush ahead, as if someone bolted from the darker shadows to the municipal building doors.

Static lifted the pulse, generating the Saucer into a higher, faster progression. He sailed under the covered pathway from the lot to the courtyard, the electricity crackling loudly against the walls of the enclosure. Setting down on the flagstones, he fisted his hands and absorbed the remaining power. The night was terrifyingly dead when the sound of the electricity went silent, even the nocturnal insects and birds had stopped their chilling songs in the wake of his presence.

Gradually, he took in the sights, turning a full circle atop his disc. He lifted the goggles from his eyes to scan the office entrance. Even at the distance he could see the double doors were not sealed in their frames; one side was popped out, ready to swing free. Someone _had_ gone inside. Static was about to follow—until the sound like a hand tapping a pipe caught his ear.

He backed sideways, facing the opposite building where a descending staircase sat. And a young man hidden inside a red-and-black suit waited. Billy Numerous began tapping a tune on the metal stair railing, the hollow sound tinny and annoying. As he did, another exactly like him came trotting up the stairs, grinning broadly. _Exactly the same. A perfect copy, just like Ed said._

However, these two didn't seem to favor the carefree, fun-loving attitude his friend had described. Instead, they patiently waited, eager yet devilish in their quietude. If it hadn't been for the childish impatience of drumming the rail, they'd seem like lifeless holograms.

So Static broke the silence, offering his own lop-sided smile. "Hello, Billy Numerous."

"Well, whaddya know, Billy. This boy here knows who we are."

"I reckon that counts for somethin', don't it, Billy?"

"Don't go gettin' your hopes up," Static warned mockingly. "So far I'm not too impressed. Petty thief and school bully—a little out of _my_ league." Judging from what he'd been told, he knew Numerous would be susceptible to contemptuous ribbing; he loved himself and his power too much to stand any belittlement.

_Let's get this party started,_ Static declared to himself, watching their expressions turn ugly.

"Oh ho!" one said richly, but his grin was long gone. "We got ourselves a cocky hero this time."

"Hmm, this might be more entertainin'. So which league would that be, young'n?"

Static scoffed loudly. Opening his arms, he released his energy into a hissing display of snapping electric tentacles, the lightning lifting the Saucer off the ground. He made sure his coat blew off his chest, showing his own lightning-bolt shield. "Take a wild guess."

He was beginning to feel concerned at how nonchalant they were being, and if these two Billys were merely there to distract him, he wouldn't stay long to play. "Now _where_ is Eduardo Dorado?" he demanded, bringing the full of his confidence and authority into his voice. "Is he down there?"

Something malevolent came over the rail-player, and Static wondered if he was the original Billy. The veiled eyes seemed to hold his, daring. But finally he replied, "El Dorado? He's 'round and about somewheres."

* * *

It was cold. Something inside the pod seemed frigid and heavy, as if the ship were deeper underwater. He could feel the change in the air, the metal threatening to crush in on him from the pressure outside the hull. A weight hung over him from the depths beyond, he felt it all around, like he was sinking fast.

Unnerved, he wondered why none of the scientists seemed worried. But he didn't see anybody else around. In fact, looking through the window of his pod, he could see it was dark in the lab. Somewhere, distantly, he heard the echoes of someone screaming, the hissing of power raging. It no longer seemed real, but like a hazy dream...

_Fue solamente una pesadilla._ The agreeing voice sounded faraway, but familiar. Whose was it? Was this really just a dream? If it was, then he should be able to wake up.

The resonance of the screaming grew louder, as if the Reach's ship in his memory did not want him to forget the nightmares, forget the devastating grip it held him in. And as the tortured cries intensified, he realized they were his own pained screams, ripping from his lungs as the pressure trembled through, rattling inside the pod, escalating his power.

But this time he wasn't alone. He remembered... _Solamente un sueño..._

_Just a dream._ His father had been there, calling to him, holding his hand—he was sure of it.

Another voice broke through his subconscious, reassuringly. _You don't always have to be alone._ Even aboard the Reach ship, sure he was going to die, he knew he wasn't alone. He could see their faces inside the other pods around the room. And they were all as afraid as he was. There was something unifying in that knowledge, in their joint understanding. It was empowering. He knew he had to be stronger, resilient, and not only for himself.

And as the surge of power shot through him, engaging his body to react accordingly, Eduardo remembered the first time he'd teleported aboard the Reach ship. Automatic, quick, nothing but a flash of golden light inside the alien cocoon, neither coming nor going. Born out of pain and fear.

But as his eyes fluttered opened and the memory of those times faded, he no longer felt that way. It was just a dream and he was awake.

Awake, and alive.

Yet darkness greeted him, and Eduardo gasped in a loud breath, still sensing the pressure bearing down heavily on his chest. The air was strangely concentrated, stale and solid, like it suddenly became an object with viable mass and structure. _Es extraño..._

As he came fully awake, he realized his head was killing him and his face was sore. Recalling the fight, Ed started to lift a hand to his throbbing temple, check if he was bleeding, but his arm knocked into something overhead, his elbow caught. It was as if he were halfway pinned down. He couldn't move?

He opened his palm, feeling coarse, frayed splinters under his fingertips. Wood? It was a wooden plank. No, it was a wooden _box_. He was shut inside, just like the pod on the Reach ship. Ed swallowed down a rising panic, feeling the dusty air inside his nostrils, hearing the thick way he was breathing. And it hit him: _¡Mierda! __Atrapados bajo tierra__— _He was buried alive?!

There was a moment of disbelief. A makeshift coffin buried underground. What were the odds of that happening to anybody in real life?

But then, his was anything but a normal life. And Billy Numerous was playing anything but a real, logical game. These were his rules and they were made to test El Dorado's limits. Eduardo knew that from the very start.

The anxious dread swelled again as he strained his other arm up. He had no leverage, no room to force his weight behind his fists, but despite the limitations he still tried pounding on the top of the box with all the strength he could. The wood reverberated dully, chips of it falling away, freshly whittled, and—true to his fears—dirt caved in, tapping, clinking. _That_ scared him more than anything else!

Eduardo beat harder, frantically, yet it did no good; and he couldn't bend his knees completely to use his feet. His fingers ached, his elbows were raw and stinging, there was grit in his eyes, and the more he struggled, the more he couldn't breathe. _Stop,_ he scolded himself. _Stop it, stop it. Stay calm..._ Reserve the dwindling oxygen and _think_.

And suddenly he remembered his cell phone. Shifting, bending, he squirmed until he got a hand inside his cargo-pant pocket, feeling the smooth polymer item still there. Thank God, Billy didn't take it from him!

Yanking it out, writhing until his hands had it to his face, Ed flipped the clam-shell opened, grateful when the LED screen came to life. The techno glow dimly illuminated the four tight walls of his prison, dust hanging on the air. Although the battery was charged, he knew chances of getting a signal through were nil. He just prayed he wasn't buried too deeply.

Unwilling to think about it, Eduardo didn't even stop to check but immediately dialed the number. Horror welled when only silence ensued from the device. Then, a broken ring jingled as it tried to connect. _Por favor, pick up..._

There came a gritty static frequency over the line, but then he heard a confused: "¿Hola?"

"Papá? Papá!" Ed's relief was short-lived, his father's voice far-off; he realized the connection was weak, it wouldn't hold out. And he knew what mattered most: "Papá, ayuda—Virgil is in trouble! You have to get to my school. He—"

There was a sharp, piercing hiss. The faint sound of his father's voice was shattered by more static, the words garbling and incomprehensible. "Papá?"

A hush came over the cell, only its remorseful light and apologetic message that it was unable to find a signal remained.

"No! De puta madre!" Eduardo slammed the phone against the ceiling of his trap, hot tears springing to his eyes.

With a frustrated, vehement, and tragic curse, he recognized the irony of his situation. He could have died in that pod on the alien science vessel, hidden away in the ocean. Instead, he would die in this little man-made casket under the earth.

But the fear wasn't only for himself. He knew Billy Numerous buried him so he could have his freedom to toy with Virgil Hawkins instead, the new player in the game. The novelty of messing with El Dorado's power had officially passed.

His friend might die now, too. And it was all his fault.

* * *

He wouldn't be stalled any longer, knowing neither Numerous would be forthcoming. There was nothing else to do but fight.

Static threw a hand towards the pair, his power stepping out in fine streaks. The leading bolt splintered against the stair railing, and the drummer-Billy cried out. The metal spontaneously heated, melting the rubber grips clean off his gloves and allowing the volts up his arms. The hero grinned at the snarling glare he received. Raising his other hand, Static intensified the cling to his disc and drove it higher; wherever those stairs led, he needed to get down there.

He needed to find Ed, and collar the original copy.

As the Saucer shot forward, Static pushed his energy outward. Opening his arms like Moses parting the sea, he separated the strong bolt into two electrical currents, one at each of the copies guarding the stairs. The one took it in the chest, while the other dodged in time. But all Static needed was the clear path.

Without waiting, he released the current on the Saucer, letting in slide down the stairs as if it were merely a skateboard. The door below was chained, but he grabbed it with a wave of electric power so intense the links snapped, their tinny wail lost in the crackling. Advancing with the Saucer, Static found the door locked, but a pulse of his power through the inner workings easily released it.

The basement room was black and rank, but the electricity coming off Static's body illuminated the cement box in a blue aura. It was empty. _Shit!_

Behind him, the irritating and delighted voice of Billy commented, "Yeah, ain't ever as easy as you expect, huh?"

Rounding on the two villains, Static growled in frustration, "I wouldn't want it to be easy!"

"That's the spirit!" A Billy said, slapping his knee excitedly. And they drove towards him, suddenly splitting themselves into pairs.

Static took in a deep breath, breathing life into his power, the positive energy rising from the ground to connect with the negative charges he cast down. It snaked like lighting towards the now-four attackers, branching off. Now the battle began in earnest.

The one Billy was wise to his assaults, leaping outside the flow of the current; Static managed to strike the newest duplicates, hurling them both backwards. The fourth was able to get close enough—and he had what remained of the chain outside. Numerous wielded it like the Wushu weapon, and Static felt it pound against his back. He wouldn't allow a second hit.

Bringing his arm up protectively, Static caught the incoming whip, dragging the length into the field of his power. The electric streams shot down the metal, but again, Billy Numerous was aware of the shocking consequences, releasing the chain. However, it gave the other knockoff just enough opportunity to land a blow from the side.

Static crashed into the boiler, his Saucer severing a pipe. As if slicing a major artery, the machine trembled and groaned, steam gushing into the air like blood spurting. Suddenly, Static realized his power was causing an electrical reaction within the high-pressure system, the charges feeding into its own generators. He needed to take this fight elsewhere.

He let go of the cling keeping his Saucer attached to his feet, picking it up instead with his power. He stood, raising his hands above his head and making the Saucer spin madly. Then he guided it like his own personal missile, hurtling it in a frisbee action from one copy to the next, slamming them back. When they were all four down, Static jumped aboard and sailed the disc outside, hoping the boiler wouldn't go critical.

The cool of the night was like a wakeful slap in the face to his sweaty skin, yet Static found the chill welcoming and invigorating. The electricity snapped in the open spaces, waiting for his next move. He turned back around, expecting to see the four coming after him. Although he landed several strong shocks, they never seemed to stay down for the count. He figured their suits must have insulators, and if they kept multiplying, the breakdown voltage would never build enough individually. Was this fight doomed from the start?

Almost like a punctuation to his dire thought, the doors to the office suddenly opened and several new red-suited copies continued out the doors. Static built a wall of electrical charge around himself in defense, but even as he did he could sense even more copies behind him, all around him—until he was surrounded.

"So partner, what's your name?"

Static saw the speaker standing grandly atop the office stairs, watching over the rest like the king of the mountain. This Billy was proudly puffed up, and the sound of his voice was already triumphant. _That must be the ring-leader._

"Why?" Static called back, keeping the taunting in his voice. _Like dealin' with a spoiled brat._ "Need a name for the tombstone?"

"Interesting choice a words."

The suspicious tone was not lost on Static, but he couldn't quite grasp the meaning. The words did, however, make his heart skip a beat, again wondering on Ed's whereabouts.

"Static is all you need. 'Cuz nobody's dyin' here tonight, Billy. I'm takin' you in and then the Justice League will deal with you."

"Ooh, for real?"

"I told you, I play in the big leagues, _partner_."

"Ain't that a humdinger!" Billy Numerous seemed thoughtfully excited, his fingers working at the air like a child wanting to grasp a new toy. A few of the Billys in the crowd stirred, whispering and giggling to each other. Finally, the one he thought was _the_ Billy said, "Then I s'pose you're the one I want after all. Let's see if you can keep that promise."

There was a bold sense of anticipation from the small army of Billy Numerous copies, and Virgil Hawkins knew this was going to be one hell of a fight.

"Let's see if you can take us _all_..."


	7. I know we can make it out alive

**VII. ****Sé que podemos salir con vida****.**

_No!_ He wouldn't give up. _I'm _not_ gonna die tonight._

Eduardo forced himself to stay calm and breathe shallowly. He could do this—he had to! Whatever it took, he knew he had to get free and save Virgil. This was _his_ fight, his responsibility. Billy had accused him of not being imaginative enough and he knew this moment was to test those limits.

The only way out was his power. The scientists had told him because his teleportation was Zeta-related, it needed a fixed destination, the beam traveling from Point A to Point B. Therefore, he could only teleport along sightlines. Science was technical and precise; it had rules. But what if they were wrong? They'd been wrong before, when they believed he could only teleport himself. And he wasn't a portal. The Zeta power was inside him, and he was in control.

Besides, Ed was good at breaking rules.

_Let's break this one._

He closed his eyes, settling quietly in the box underground. He had to let go of his emotions—if he hesitated with fear, he would die. It was purely mind over matter. He remembered his father telling him he had subconsciously teleported in his sleep; and how Tye and Sam had conquered their powers through meditation and a certain spiritual quality. So Ed just imagined the world around him in a state of being. Buried, but he could still picture the wooden enclosure, surrounded by loam and stones, freshly churned. Visualize, the sky would be the point above. He knew what the sky would look like: open, dark, and free. It wasn't far away from him. _I can do this..._

His mind sank into his center, grounded, reaching for the sense of nothingness of his power. Virgil said it made him special, that it was a gift only he had. A natural ability that could—and would—transport him from earth to sky. The power welled inside, ready.

And like snapping his fingers, he willed it to use.

Even with his eyes closed, he saw the flash of intense golden light, felt the weightless void of the Zeta beam as he traveled across the planes.

Eduardo snapped back where he "saw", his body materializing out of the flashing light above the ground, in midair and facing the sky. As soon as he appeared he felt gravity pull him back down, only a couple feet, and he fell on his backside in dirt and dead leaves.

In an instant it was over. He made it!

Now the quelled emotions came on strong, overwhelming him. Ed heard himself gasp and retch horribly for air, a strangled sob breaking free. He rolled to his side, hugging himself, grimly thinking he should make sure he was all of him there. The panic in his breathing was loud, and he didn't recognize the sound of his own voice as his chest heaved it out. The world was still cold, but the solid pressure he'd breathed only seconds before was gone; the air was clean and light, tasting of winter and nighttime.

"I'm okay," he said, not fully certain of the fact, but needing to hear himself out loud for reassurance. "Ah Dios mío, I'm okay."

Finally recognizing the cold tendrils of fear skewing his reality, Eduardo managed to subdue the overpowering terror by checking his breathing, quietly focusing on the soft, uneven dirt and dried vegetation under him. He could feel it against his cheek, hear it as he crushed a leaf in one hand.

And he realized directly underneath would have been his grave.

His fingers dug angrily into the ground as he came wholly back to his senses, an enlivening adrenaline rush sweeping through his nerves. Ed could feel the desire for revenge building fast. Lifting himself on hands and knees, he saw before him a housing development. Sitting back against the trunk of a tree, he took in the length of the forest-lined row and view of expensive homes beyond.

Suddenly, it struck him as all very familiar, right down to the trampled makeshift pathway. He was on the border to the high school.

And then lightning crashed with an earth-shattering jolt. Eduardo used the tree to brace himself up, turning around to face the municipal buildings. In the darkness, electricity erupted from the rooftop like a firework exploding skyward. The school grounds were cast in a murky blue light, and Ed instantly knew—_Virgil!_

The battle was on.

Ed's hands clutched tightly into fists. It was time for payback. With a deep, furious breath, he called on his power again and teleported across the grassy slope and fields. He emerged from the light on the flagstone courtyard, and memories of his first day here came roaring into his mind. He was sick of it—being bullied and pushed around. It was as if Billy had brought all his negative emotions to life, embodied everything he'd hated this past year. And it was time to not only face it, but defeat it. _This ends now._

The crackling fire of another electric bolt screamed from the roof above, and of a sudden Eduardo smelled both burning ozone and fire. There was thick smoke rising from the bullies' basement lair, but Ed knew the warfare was up on the roof; he needed to help Virgil. Whatever was in flames would just have to burn.

Throwing his head back, he saw the definite ledge stories in the air. And he traveled, flashing back with his feet touching down on the edge. Ed immediately braced himself in a fighting stance, prepared for whatever was happening.

Virgil, in his Static guise, was centered within a massive sphere of electricity, with at least fifty Billy Numerous copies surrounding him. No matter how many he shocked, how many he forced back with his powers, it didn't seem like their figures diminished. Somewhere in the mess, the original Billy kept regenerating his numbers. And every time a volt charged toward the sky it looked like more of Static's energy was sapped; his friend looked weary and bent.

Suddenly, Ed noticed a flock of Billys dismantle the lightning rod from the central systems of the building, using the conductive finial as a weapon. Their numbers easily tore the grounding wires along with it, charging the lance at Static, knowing it would penetrate his shields.

"Virgil, look out!" Even as Ed yelled the warning he teleported, coming back in a flash above the Billys, dropping from the sky onto the center of the rod. His weight tore it from their hands, driving it to the ground; his swift appearance was also unexpected, and the older boys were pulled out of their charge, off their feet.

Then all eyes were on him. "El Dorado?" said a Billy.

"You made it out alive!" another jeered.

"Boy, color us so surprised."

"Ed?!" Static's relieved voice broke through. "Dude, I'm glad you're okay!"

Looking up at his friend hovering in the air, Ed replied, "Not okay just yet." Static gave a serious nod.

With nothing left to say, Ed crushed his heel into the rod, snapping the metal. As if a brazen declaration of war, the horde of Billy Numerous duplicates rushed him. Eduardo teleported out of reach, and as they converged a sharp bolt of lightning struck their numbers, dancing among their bodies with brutal force. Ed reappeared at the opposite end, behind Static, both boys used to fighting alongside the other.

But the Numerous gang was not in the game to lose, either. Their numbers seemed to split teams, with the greater amount going for Static, while a quicker lot set their sights on bringing down their original plaything. Eduardo saw them coming like a pack of vicious, giggling hyenas, with gnashing teeth, snarling scowls, and baring their fangs in pleasure-seeking grins. Their amusement had turned evil and Billy wanted the win at last.

He teleported, dodging each reaching hand, every throwing fist, all the bodies blocking his way. Against their ever-increasing numbers, Ed could only rely on speedy trips through the Zeta field. He also made sure to stay within the tiny warzone, to watch Virgil's back. He traveled around the perimeter, constantly taunting them to follow. Static, too, had his back, for each time he emerged to bait the enemy, Static released electro-blasts to strike the Billys after Ed vanished again.

_Flash!_ Appearing from a shower of radiance, Ed dropped and slid into a line of Billy's multiples, effectively taking them out like bowling pins. He allowed his slight frame to skim under Static's hovering disc, almost limbo-style. He knew more Billys were after him—and so did Virgil, for he released the cling and let his Saucer and his weight drop onto their heads.

At the far end, a Billy laughed deviously, "Run, run, run." He pounced for Ed, who immediately vanished, reappearing out of harm's way.

And then it happened. The building shook from the ground up, and Eduardo met Virgil's eyes; it hadn't been a Static Shock—something exploded. A huge waft of black smoke rose up in confirmation. Teleporting to the ledge, Ed saw the fire was spreading below. He didn't know what could be done, or how much time they had until the buildings were ablaze, but Billy Numerous and his collection weren't long concerned. Ed saw knuckles flying towards his face and he snapped out.

He came back directly behind the Billys, already shoving them over the edge. He heard them holler but he didn't concern himself with their fall. With a snap of his thoughts he teleported again, feeling heavier inside the void this time; he was getting tired. _Flash_, he materialized over the large central air system, dropping atop the cover.

Scanning the rooftop floor, he gasped when he saw some Billys picking up bits of the broken lightning rod. They hurled them at Static, who brought his hands up—along with his electric charges—to catch them in sparks. The intense field of his electrokinesis made them spin and fall uselessly away. But they were just a diversion.

Another Billy used the grounding cable as a lasso, swinging the looped end through the air with a gleeful shout of: "Yee-haw, cowboy!"

The insulated exterior of the cable broke through Static's power, while the conductive interior absorbed the voltage; the circle fell over Static's head. And rather kamikaze style, multiple Billys helped their partner, taking up the excess line as the weighted rope pulled taut, and they dragged Static down. Electricity traveled through the wiring as if trying to protect its maker, but it did no good to those willing to accept the residual shock.

"No!" Watching Virgil hit the roof floor, Eduardo teleported.

He came back close to the action, picking up one of the rods, heated by Static's power, and traveled again. Ed quickly reappeared by Virgil's side, driving the split metal end into the knot of the lasso, twisting it harshly until all the inner lines severed. With the slack, he helped his friend get free of the cable. Virgil seemed slightly disoriented and Ed realized he'd lost his focus; the Saucer had fallen away.

"Come on, hermano," he urged. But the pack was upon them again.

Feeling cornered, sensing Static bringing his power to rise, the only thing Ed could think to do was wrap his arms around his friend and teleport them both back along his sightline. A strong flash and they arrived atop the air system, outside the wall of Billy Numerous copies.

Immediately, Virgil tried standing, goaded by the prompt pain. "Holy shit, man," he moaned, a hand rising to his chest.

"Think fast," Ed panted, not finding his own strength but sinking down instead.

Kneeling beside him, Virgil whispered hastily, "Did you see? The more of them I shock, the harder we hit them—they _weaken_. I seen it, when you dropped two over the edge." He eyed the lot of them thoughtfully. "Break his concentration—" he patted the collar hanging from his belt— "and we got him."

Ed licked his lips and nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Both boys were breathing hard, spent, but Static wasn't about to back down now, seeing a way out. So he mustered his remaining force and stood protectively over Eduardo. Then, doggedly, he clenched the air in front of his chest with gripping fingers, bringing his power between his palms. He drained the ventilation unit of electricity, building the energy ball in his hands. Static quickly shot it, the electro-blast hitting all those in its path.

Leaping down into the clearing, Static drove a fist into the floor and sent ground-streaks through the seams, rivulets of electricity keeping his way free. As Static led the sea of Billys away, Ed watched through the dissipating fog of pain. There seemed to be a new sense of elation en mass, and he was worried they couldn't succeed in finding the original Billy, the harbinger. _He's having too much fun..._ Forcing himself to stand, Ed saw Static pulsate energy into his Saucer, closing the links and using it like a weapon.

Ed became aware of other Billys climbing up after him. He turned fast, landing a kick to the face of one; that Billy fell, breaking a ventilation tube as he crashed downwards. Behind him, Eduardo saw the darkness was now cast in an orange glow radiating from the ground, the fires moving steadily up, eating away the levels of the school.

A newfound sense of urgency struck him, smoke all around, and he spun back to find Virgil. But his friend was sorely outnumbered, being beaten down. _We're losing..._ Ed thought hopelessly.

"Sure an ornery little fella, ain't ya?" The devilishly blithe voice he'd come to hate was directly behind him.

As Ed wheeled around, he sensed the momentum of an incoming blow and brought his arms up to deflect. The gloved fist struck his upper arm hard, and before the next could be delivered he teleported. A surprise attack, he reappeared behind Numerous, shoving him off the central system box. As the older boy went down, Eduardo discovered he could no longer see Virgil for the number of copies.

Suddenly, he found himself mobbed, someone grabbing his leg from below, another pulling the trailing end of his scarf. Before he could teleport, he fell too. And he sensed the enemy crowd ascend on him, man-handling, even before he struck down. There was cheering, the rancid smell of sweat and smoke, and before Ed realized what was happening, something mechanical snapped around his neck—

And a gun fired.

The mundane, unfamiliar sound seemed louder than any of Static's lightning bolts, booming deeply across the open fields around the high school. As the echo faded, there came a stunned silence. When the Billy Numerous gang surrounding him curiously turned, parted, Eduardo saw—

"Papá?!"

His father was there, on the roof just over the stairwell threshold, arm raised to fire the warning shot in the air. When the senior Dorado was certain he had their attention, the ruckus in his favor, he lowered the muzzle, willing to point it at whichever Billy got too close. His expression was beyond any rage Ed Jr. had known; it was dark and wrathful, and his father's eyes seemed to dare each of the red-clad villains to make a move on him. Ed's surprise gave way to intrigue and admiration.

Closer to the fallen Static, Eduardo Sr. demanded of the Billys securing the superhero, "Let him go!"

Teasingly slow, the grinning rabble released the younger teen. Flicking the tip of the gun as a threatening suggestion, the scientist said, "Now back away."

They did as they were told, but one Billy reminded happily, "You ain't got enough bullets in that teeny gun for all of us, Papa Bear."

Ignoring him, Eduardo Sr. reached down to support Virgil. "Get up, hijo."

Static, clutching an arm and his face pained, found his feet, but instead of wondering on the turn of events his eyes went immediately to the junior Eduardo. As their eyes met, Ed noticed the other's strange, calamitous look, and he suddenly remembered... Without reflecting, he grabbed for his power and snapped his mind for the teleportation.

Nothing.

The Billy Numerous throngs had found the inhibitor collar on Static and locked it on Eduardo.

Ed's eyes widened in shock and Virgil shook his head in apology.

There was a foreboding awe at the peculiar sensation, finding himself again faced with an irony. Ed had never wanted the damnable power, always desiring a swift cure. But this wasn't cleansing him of it; he could still feel the spring of energy in his core. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't draw from the well. It was cut off. And it felt sickeningly like losing a limb.

Just then a Billy gripped the collar and forced Ed to rise. Clasping the device encircling his throat, Ed let himself be hauled up, feeling the Billy dangerously close behind him and realizing he was now a hostage. Once more a pawn to someone else's whim.

"Guess'n we got ourselves a standoff," gloated the Numerous.

"Let my son go," Eduardo Sr. commanded, leveling the aim of his gun.

"Maybe I will, and maybe I won't," said the Billy.

The others gathered closer, but somehow Ed knew this one was _not_ the original. He whispered in Ed's ear, "My Pa might not be a scientist, but I'm smart 'nuff to figure this here ring was for me. Can't collar a junkyard dog that easy, amigo."

Not willing to give Numerous the satisfaction of responding to his spiteful intimidation, Ed's mind already formulated a quick fix. He caught Static's eyes and deliberately—suggestively—thrummed his fingers on the collar. His expression was fierce and to-the-point: _Get this off._ Ed looked to Virgil to set things up, and his friend tipped his head in a subtle gesture. Static tilted a hand back, hiding the formation of a small electric ball.

Then Ed stared directly at his father and said, "Disparale."

Credit to him for keeping a stone face, but Ed saw his father's eyes slit dubiously. Holding Eduardo Sr.'s gaze, he willed him to understand. _Shoot. You can't hurt me._ He could see the scientist's mind working, weighing the meaning, figuring the variables of the situation.

Static said quietly, "Trust him, Mr. Dorado."

"Yeah, trust me," the Billy said sardonically, missing his gist.

Another added: "Ya can't take us all out."

"And unless ya both step aside, I'm liable to chuck this kid over the edge. I'm thinkin' he can't do nothin' about it this time!"

The senior Eduardo's hand began quivering, upset by the sudden capricious choices. Ed locked eyes with his namesake and he nodded to his father, giving him a defiant grin in reassurance. Eduardo Sr. bit his lip, cupped his left hand around the right to steady the aim—and returned his son's direct nod.

Ed Jr. dropped his hands away as Static hurled the electro-orb at the inhibitor collar.

Both Ed and Billy cried out at the lashing shock as the energy ball electrocuted the device's mainframe and shattered the collar.

And Eduardo Jr. felt the return of his power, teleporting seconds before Eduardo Sr. fired the gun.

Behind where his son was, Billy spasmodically jerked as the bullet tore into his right shoulder. Then the copy vanished in a weird rush of air, expressions of wandering pain and confusion passing through the others.

Ed reappeared next to his father as suddenly Static cried, pointing, "There! _That one!_"

Through the masses, one red-clad villain had staggered and dropped to his knees, clutching the spot on his upper chest where his copy had been shot. His face was twisted in rage and hurt as he glared at them through the faltering support of his army. Sweat beaded his brow as he fought to stay in control.

Trying to reclaim the situation, the group of remaining Billys lunged at those wise to their shared weakness. Now they were more dangerous. With a determined growl, Ed teleported towards the real Billy as Static unleashed his power to stop the assault and keep the upper edge. Eduardo Sr. emptied the gun into the lot. With every blow, more and more of the Billys whirred out of existence, back to the host.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the building, all of the windows shattering as a destructive back draft inside broke free. The structure groaned hollowly, lower levels collapsing in blazing, charred ruins.

As Eduardo Jr. left the Zeta-field, he felt hands grab at him in a desperate attempt to keep him away from the original. But they were weak, and he teleported when he couldn't break free. Soon he was standing in front of the college boy, all his rage at the surface. The fires burning around the outskirts of the roof reflected in Ed's eyes.

"You think you're takin' me in, sheriff?" Billy Numerous said with evil sarcasm. Though he stood to his feet in a mask of confidence, Ed saw him watch his copies, concentrating on maintaining some ranks. "Divide and conquer, is that it?"

"No," retorted his El Dorado. Ed grabbed Billy and teleported.

They reappeared in the sky beyond the safety of the roof and Ed said darkly, "I think it's game over, amigo."

He heard Virgil cry, "Ed, _don't!_"

And he released Billy.

Daring to watch him fall for a moment, Eduardo Jr. teleported himself just as the Static Saucer was flung out to rescue Billy Numerous.

When Ed materialized back on the roof, neither of them could say for sure if the Saucer provided any aid. But there were no more Billys.

Instead, the fire was their enemy. Flames were breaking through the ceiling of mortar and stones, smoke soon laying over them like a suffocating blanket. The building leaned off-balance, the foundation already lost. Hearing his father coughing thickly, realizing Virgil lost his only way out, Ed knew he had to save them.

He quickly laid a hand on his father's chest and teleported them both to the yard below. As they exited the Zeta light, both dropped to their knees from the pain. Eduardo Jr. felt his world spinning, having already traveled several times with another person; it was catching up to him with crashing violence. He could feel the wafting heat from the burning municipal buildings, and it was enough to ward off the suffering.

He managed to stand, swaying and bowed. He urged in a rasp, "Get back, Papá."

"Eduardo—"

He didn't wait but looked up and returned the way they came. Ed snapped back inside a wall of choking smoke and fumes; ash was carried by the rage of the fire like a volcano, racing towards the sky, only to drop back like sooty snow. He lifted his scarf around his mouth and nose, feeling the burning air, the char stinging his eyes.

Ed saw Virgil near the edge, goggles over his eyes and a hand over his mouth as he tried staying outside the danger. Ed teleported next to him, yet as he reached a hand for the other boy, the center of the roof caved in, throwing them both off their feet. Grabbing the ledge, Ed saw Virgil slide towards the inner inferno.

Through the wreckage of the building, cracked and falling, Eduardo could see where the lobby had been. He knew where the main doors used to be, the stone portico beyond leading to the way out. And that was all he needed.

Releasing the rim, he slid down to Virgil and grabbed his hand, pulling him close. _Flash_.

They came back at the base level, near the walls of the structure. The building was deteriorating fast, the fires consuming everything left around them. He knew they were not yet free of danger.

But Eduardo faltered finding his feet; all of a sudden a cold sweat and rolling faintness came over him. He couldn't even feel the teleportation pain anymore, his vision a twisted field of nothing. Was he even standing? He wasn't sure... His body felt uselessly heavy, like he were drowning, though his mind was as weightless as the floating void of his power.

"Ed man, c'mon," Virgil was saying, taking him by the arm. "We gotta go."

"I can't—" was all he could whisper in response. Then he failed to overcome the void.

* * *

Putting his arm around his neck, Virgil drew Ed up, supporting him towards the exit. But as they came free of the building and onto the paved porch into the courtyard, Virgil felt Eduardo sink deeply back to the ground.

"No, no, no, come on bro..." With the other boy's weight on him, overcome and short of breath himself, Virgil fell with him. He was terrified seeing Ed's closed eyes, feeling his friend's body unresponsive. "C'mon, Ed—wake up!"

No matter how hard he shook him, Eduardo didn't stir. Virgil threw off his goggles, frantic. The heat was pummeling them from behind, the fire still sweeping the buildings and vomiting glowing embers down around them. Any minute the place would completely come down in a rage.

"Ed?!" Panic lifted his voice. "You can't die on me!"

_What do we do now? What do _I_ do? _Almost without thinking, Virgil laid his hands on Ed's chest, CPR style. _I'm a hero, dammit! No one dies on my watch._

And Static pumped electricity down his arms. The shock reverberated through them both, Static cautious of the voltage. The driving charge brought his friend back, his muscles reacting in reflex, spine arching, eyes snapping open—and flashing out. The golden light returned the boy instantaneously, Ed gasping loudly as if stunned.

"Whoa, whoa!" Virgil jumped, taking Ed's hand to hold him down, calm him. "Oh man, you okay?"

At Static's scared concern, Eduardo's brows drew together in a perplexed way; finally, he mumbled, "Uh huh."

"Let's get you up. We can't be here anymore."

Virgil propped him up once again as lights and sirens began hailing in the distance. Sensing Ed still couldn't sustain his own heft, Virgil kept the burden on himself. He forced each step, taking them gradually away from the blaze and towards the emergency vehicles.

"Hey, talk to me, man. Stay awake."

"I'm okay," said Ed weakly. His hand squeezed his shoulder with purpose, an assurance he wasn't slipping away.

"God, I thought you were dead!"

"Was I?" Eduardo whispered, skeptical. "I remember teleporting... but didn't seem like I went anywhere. Thought Heaven would be nicer."

With a feeble grin to hide the encroaching emotions, Virgil asked, "Did you see the light?"

Ed actually smiled back and his eyes sparkled. "Mi hermano, I _always_ see light."

Virgil answered with a breathy laugh of relief, stricken with a sudden sense of grateful satisfaction—after such a hardship, the near loss, it was uplifting to see his friend's spirits on the mend. Finding his own cheerful mood steadily return, he said, "Dude, that was off the chain! You know we won, right?"

Even though he looked more thoughtful than pleased, Ed's smile only brightened. His reply instead was: "Thank you."

Static answered back with a wink, looking rather heartfelt and proud, just as Eduardo Sr. found them. "Mi hijo!" his alarmed voice broke through the din of flames and he rushed to their side. He offered his strength by taking his son's other arm, and Virgil gratefully relinquished some of the effort. "¿Estás bien, Eduardo?"

"Sí, Papá."

"Virgil?"

"Good to go another round."

"Te agradezco, I appreciate your help. Thank you," Eduardo Sr. said to Virgil as they came to a safe clearing. "I do not know what happened—" Before either boy could speak he finished: "But it does not matter. It is over."

As if that had been the last of his concerns answered, Ed wearily sank to the ground, mimicking Virgil's relieved sigh. Helping Ed down, the father suddenly hugged his son close, and this time Ed Jr. returned the embrace.

_Now _that_,_ Virgil thought happily. _That made it all the more worth it._

With a smile, he gave them space, knowing the area was soon to be overrun with curious locals; he already saw a few nearby snapping photos. Trying to think of something to tell the authorities, wondering if Static was ready for the spotlight, Virgil moved towards the oncoming sirens.

But suddenly a voice called down from the sky. "_What_ happened here?"

It was sooner than he expected, but... _Here it comes, caught red-handed._ Knowing he was entirely blameworthy, Static turned to look up at Blue Beetle.

"Hey Beetle," he greeted sheepishly. "How'd you find me?"

Blue Beetle seemed to ignore him for the moment; he was still taking in the amount of damage and fires, watching the emergency vehicles speed ever nearer, assessing and flabbergasted. Jets flaring off, he landed lightly next to his fellow Titan, arching an armored brow at the S.T.A.R. scientist and his familiar son.

Finally, he said matter-of-factly, "You just can't sign off on a meta-power inhibitor collar without it getting back to the Tower. And—" Throwing a wary glance at the civilians milling about, he yanked Static further out of earshot. "And with this guy on my back, esé, I basically live next door!"

"Look, I'm sorry, aight?" Static replied, shamefaced. "But Ed asked me to keep it a secret."

"But he's not on the Team. Didn't you think about the consequences?"

"I mean, I knew Black Lightning wouldn't be too happy... "

Blue Beetle folded his arms over his chest with a mixed look of indignation and chagrin. "Rookie," he mumbled, more to himself in reflection.

"What would you've done if it were Tye, man?"

"En la adversidad se conoce al amigo," he quoted thoughtfully, and Static caught the makings of a sympathetic grin on his lips. Then a blank expression came over Blue's face, and abruptly he said, "No, that's not what I meant. Don't be so literal."

"Yeah, well," Static began, used to his teammate's odd, "imaginary friend" outbursts, "it might not be contained, but—"

Coming back outside himself, Blue Beetle quickly raised a hand to silence the others and said, "Okay. It's okay. I got your back here, but you're on your own with Aqualad and Robin." Static sighed in resignation. "So what happened? What, or who, was the problem?"

Static caught his breath and his eyes widened, remembering Billy Numerous and the possibility of an unfortunate outcome; Blue's expression darkened. Worry rose anew, tightening Static's chest, and he couldn't help but think of the worst. What would happen to Ed if...?

Without a word, he led the way around the smoldering building at an urgent, swift pace. Finding the spot where the villain would have landed from his freefall, Static stopped dead in his tracks.

All he saw was his Saucer. No Billy.

Hearing Static curse, Blue Beetle shook his head in dismay, mindlessly voicing an internal command: "Scanning."

"Don't bother." Static's voice was borderline relieved and uneasy. "The bad guy's long gone."

_But I bet I know where he'll turn up..._

* * *

Although Ed was concerned he placed Virgil in between a rock and a hard place, he wasn't troubled by the appearance of Blue Beetle; Jaime Reyes had always seemed to be on their level. And besides, his father was right; it was over.

As soon as he was sitting, his father switched into science-mode, his paternal instincts going back to his practical comfort zone in worry. Holding up his index finger and moving it back and forth across a pretend line, Eduardo Sr. instructed his son to follow with his eyes.

"Papá."

"Hush, mi hijo. Let me make sure you are well." Ed concentrated on the motion, able to follow without turning his head or straining. "How do you feel? Dizzy?"

"I just feel worn out."

"You teleported with another person too often." Eduardo Sr. checked his pulse and breathing, his own hands shaking. "That was dangerous and foolish."

Ed Jr. dared to speak again, "Sorry, Papá. It was—"

Suddenly, sure his son's vital signs were all fine, his father hugged him again and said, "Don't. It's over, and you did the right thing. It was selfless and brave, mi hijo."

Ed sighed humbly. As Ed held onto to his father, there was no sense of victory or pride. Relief, yes, but nothing so insignificant as triumph or satisfaction. There was a part of him still locked on the battle, on the memories and scars. In fact, he felt tired and small in his Dad's arms, no longer awkward or angry—just a normal kid reconnected with his family under direst. And he just wanted to go home.

"But I thought I was going to lose you again," his father murmured, and the fear was still evident in his voice.

"You actually came for me?" Ed's words held the note of astonishment, yearning, and admiration he'd long felt.

"It was overdue," his father said softly.

Eduardo Jr. took a deep, recovering breath, sniffing back tears, his childhood pain vindicated. Not that it truly mattered anymore. Ed faced his worst nightmares, put everything on the line, and he managed to beat the odds, his defining moment. What came before, and whatever would follow after, couldn't possibly be any darker.

He was going to be fine.


	8. Epilogue: To continue on

**Epilogue. ****Siga adelante****...**

"It is only for today," Eduardo Sr. said as he turned off the car engine. "I promise, mi hijo."

Staring out the windshield at the S.T.A.R. complex, Ed inhaled deeply, refusing to let the breath out in an immature sigh. Instead, he nodded. It had been his decision, his request, to return to the labs after his hellish ordeal with Billy Numerous. Even though he felt perfectly fine, he wanted to be certain his meta-power didn't progress too rabidly for his body.

Talking to his father was no longer like pulling teeth—well, not always anyway—and when he opened up to his Dad about teleporting from underground, his namesake had been thunderstruck. On top of that, Ed had also teleported with another person multiple times in a small timeframe, even with the pain. He had busted several theories, dispelled many disbeliefs.

"Possibly, the more you use the power, the stronger it becomes," Ed Sr. had hypothesized.

"No," his son had said surely. "It makes _me_ stronger."

Perhaps Virgil was right. Maybe his power _was_ a gift? Eduardo Jr. no longer thought of himself as something alien. Indeed, when kids at school would jeer and persecute him for being "a foreigner", he could honestly laugh it off. Oh, if they only knew the things he saw, everything he'd done. And he was the stronger for it, always a scrappy survivor. No one could bring him down anymore.

But Ed also knew his Dad was worried for his health. It didn't bother him now; sometimes resentment would rise like it used to, but then he would pause and remind himself his father cared—he only had to picture that night at the school, picture his father willing to shoot Billy to save him, to know. So to quash any family paranoia, he was motivated to face one last poor memory.

As his father unbuckled his seatbelt, he noted Ed's faltering expression. Smiling reassuringly, he laid a hand on his son's shoulder in comfort. "It will be alright. I will be with you the whole time."

"I know." When the senior Dorado opened the car door, Ed called from the passenger's seat, "I will be in soon."

For a moment, an old chastising look crossed his father's face. But it was quickly replaced by a kinder, understanding light. He nodded. "When you feel ready."

Left alone in the quiet, sheltered vehicle, Eduardo dug inside his backpack and withdrew the card he'd kept hidden all this time, forgotten until after the battle. He gazed on it for some time, collecting his thoughts, fighting a shyness. Then, with purpose, he got his cellphone, cleared his throat, and dialed the number.

"Um, hi. May I please speak to Carlos?"

**The End.**


End file.

Young Justice, Angst, Drama