The woman waved a hand and the bracelet vanished, a firm weight suddenly appearing on the wrist Jo still had outstretched. Jo studied it in surprise, feeling around the edge of the cool metal. The magic within it was comforting in a way, like hiding under covers from the monsters beneath the bed, or locking away something special with the only key hanging about your neck. It was a magic that felt like safety and certainty, and maybe just a hint of something familiar.
Nickels and bets and a Paris penthouse, her mind supplied for her, but surely she was just projecting.
“This will take you all the way to the top floor,” the woman explained, motioning towards the elevators. “Be sure to keep it on until you leave and have no plans of returning so none of the wards hinder you.” Jo nodded, keeping a hand on the bracelet as she made off in the direction indicated.
With the hum of working magic beneath her fingers, the elevator door opened. There were no numbers to press, no scanner for her bio-band, but her bracelet seemed to direct the elevator upward regardless, stopping when they’d reached what she presumed to be the top floor.
If the lobby had been elaborate, the office on the top floor was even more so, but in a way that reminded Jo of Wayne’s bedroom in the mansion. Floor to ceiling windows, modern architecture, a view that took Jo’s breath away. It suited Wayne far more than even the lobby had. Though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to, Jo felt instantly at ease in the familiar atmosphere. That is, until an equally familiar voice brought her out of her silent musings.
“Nice of you to finally show up to the shindig, dollface.”
Jo whirled around to find Wayne leaning against his desk, eyes filled to the brim with amusement and understanding, and looking as dashing as he always had. Before she really registered what she was doing, she was shuffling, then walking, then rushing into his arms, catching them both off guard—if the startled laugh that escaped Wayne’s chest and muffled itself in her hair was any indication.
“You’re alive,” she breathed, not aware until that moment that she hadn’t been entirely certain he would be. It took a rather awkward breath of stillness before Wayne returned the embrace.
“Yeah, doll. I am. And so are you.”
They weren’t on solid footing yet, and Jo could feel it, but she still took it as a win. He hadn’t turned her away.
“I see you found new fashion in this world,” Wayne appraised her, still holding her in his grasp.
“I’ll take a hoodie if you have one.”
He arched his eyebrows but said with a chuckle, “I think that can be arranged.”
“I can’t believe you remember me,” she added, even though it was redundant at this point. This time, Wayne’s arms tightened the embrace a bit before letting go, his laugh much softer, fonder.
“I remember everything. We all do.”
We all do.Jo’s eyes lit up.
“Everyone else? The rest of the team?”
But before Wayne could be bothered to explain, he was moving away from her and reaching for something on his desk.
“Speaking of the rest of the team, I think you’ve kept them waiting long enough.” Wayne grinned, waving a hand over a small obsidian disk placed on the desk—it was the same way Snow used to wave a hand over the briefing room table. Shimmers of formless light appeared in the space above the disk, then two faces. Faces she knew, faces she loved—alive and nearly within reach.
“I’m in the middle—” Samson began to say.
“Sam, it’s Jo!” Takako interrupted.
Jo watched as the crafter stopped what he was doing at a barely visible worktable in the background and turned, inspecting the. . . Camera? Screen? Black Disk? His eyes widened and nearly overflowed with tears, tears Jo didn’t quite feel she deserved.
“It really is you!”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Jo leaned toward their images, her own face flushing in an overwhelming mix of emotions. It felt like her heart might burst. They were alive. They were all alive and Wayne knew how to contact them and—“Nico?” she dared whisper.
Wayne shook his head sadly. “Seems he’s really gone for good.”
Jo swallowed a small uprising of grief; she should’ve assumed it to be so. But everything suddenly seemed so hopeful, so possible. She pressed her eyes closed. He should’ve gotten a fresh start too, and it was her fault that he hadn’t.
“Eslar?” She turned to Samson, hoping her assumption wouldn’t come off as too forward. But really, it seemed obvious. “Is he with you?”
Samson looked down, presumably fidgeting with something in his hands judging from the shift of his shoulders. Finally, after several long seconds, he shook his head. “Not with me,” he said softly. “He’s busy.”
“You mean being a right pain in the ass,” Wayne muttered, folding his arms. “But yeah, doll, the elf is fine too.”
Her curiosity was more than a little peaked at what, exactly, Wayne and Samson’s reactions meant. Compounded with Takako’s silence, there was certainly a story there. But she’d put a pin in it for now; there were more pressing matters.
