Mary's eyes flew open, and she looked all around the dark room. The front door closed. She didn't hear anything, but it was if she could *feel* it do so. Familiar footsteps, doors closing and a shower running is what she could hear so far. Terry was home.

Mary opened her bedroom door as quietly as possible and walked through the short hallway. The apartment was only a three bedroom one, but Terry's door was open. She carefully walked through it and looked around some. The bed was made, which was a very rare thing if he used it. Had Terry even been sleeping in it lately?

A large part of her wanted to let all of this go and not say anything about it. But, a small voice in the back of her head told her to fight for what was hers. Her conscious was something that she didn't listen to very often these days.

Terry's jacket was on the leather couch again. She reached out some to pick it up. Against her better judgement, she leaned forward some to sniff it. There was that aftershave again. But time, there was a hint of something else. She sniffed at it again. The scent was very unique. It almost smelled like sex. Appalled, Mary wanted to drop the jacket onto the floor. She looked down at the jacket and felt her eyes sting some. She twisted the faded brown jacket in her two hands as if she was strangling someone. About three different emotions went through her. Sadness, anger and loss. She was losing him.

Mary bought the jacket for Terry on his twelfth birthday. The teen had been wearing it every day, regardless of the weather outside. Around that time it was too big for him, but hoped that the young man would have grown into it. Now she just wanted to burn the damn thing. Mary threw it onto the couch. She walked over to the kitchen and stood in front of sink, trying to keep her cool about things. Several different emotions was running through her and she need some time to think.

The shower stopped running. A few minutes later a door opened. Familiar footsteps were coming closer, but then they just stopped.

"Terry." Mary said through clenched teeth. Terry didn't even have to see her face to know that his mother was pretty upset about something.

"Mom! I was just -"

"Working for Mr. Wayne?" She interrupted. Mary reached for the dish washing liquid and turned on the faucet. Terry could have sworn that he seen steam rising from the stream of water. His mother seemed to be washing her hands until they were red, but he didn't even want to ask why.

"Yeah. I had to go in early."

Mary sighed. "Don't lie to me, Terry. I've been up all morning waiting for you to come home." When she turned around, Terry could see that her eyes were red-rimmed and tired. He looked down at the dark carpet and shuffled his bare feet. Mary leaned against the white walls and crossed her arms, a stance that Terry knew all to well. He was wearing a black robe that seemed as if it was velvet. It wasn't something from home since Mary only had several white towels in the linen closet. She tapped her foot a little and took a deep breath.

"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?" The tone of her voice was very low and eerily calm. He slowly nodded, and Mary bit her lower lip.

"For how long?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"It hasn't even been a year yet." If he was inches away from where he stood, she probably wouldn't have heard that.

"How. long." She said through her teeth. Terry looked up at her. "Six months."

Hearing that, Mary dug her nails into her arms. She was almost drawing blood. Uncrossing her arms, she took a look at them. Five red moon-shaped marks were on her biceps. Mary looked up at her son, slightly tilting her head.

She held her hand out. "Give me your cellphone. Right now."

"What? Why?" Terry's eyes widened some. Mary narrowed hers, and stepped forward. "Because. You're not going to 'work' for him any more."

"You can not be serious!" Terry's voice raised some.

"I am. You're only seventeen. His age is *probably* that number backwards. You are *my* son! *My* child, and even when you're eighteen, I'm not going to want you to be even fifty feet near him! Find someone else!"

Terry shook his head and paced the floor some. "You can *not* do that. I *really* like Bruce, mom. And from what I remember, you liked him, too!" He pointed out. If there was one thing Terry McGinnis couldn't stand, it was hypocrisy. He was very quick to point something out like that.

Mary walked a few more feet forward. "You're calling him by his first name now? Besides, this different! I am an adult and-"

Terry snorted. "Right. So it's okay for you to put on a show for Bruce when he's here, but when he picks me over you-"

"Are you talking about that old guy?" A voice said a few feet away from them. Mother and son turned from what they were arguing about to see Matt standing there in his mis-matched pajamas.

Mary looked in the direction of her younger son. "Did we wake you, dear?"

The ten year old shrugged. "Kinda. You guys were loud! I could hear everything. So do you like him or something?" He asked, walking up to them.

Terry gave a bit of a smirk and mused his baby brother's hair. "Yeah, twip. I do."

Matt scratched the back of his head and made a face. "Oh. Ew! You're such a weirdo!" Matt walked past them to raid the refridgerator in typical pre-teen style.

"So do I have to quit?" Terry asked. Mary knew that even if she would have said yes, he would have continued being with Bruce anyways.

Mary resisted glaring at him. She knew that she was losing again. "No. But if you're going to be with Bruce Wayne, you *better* be more quiet about it. I also suggest that have to be careful when you bring him around me." She warned him. Terry furrowed his eyebrows as if he wanted to say something, but he only nodded.

Mary walked off back to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She didn't feel as if there was anymore that she could do, but only wish that she was in Terry's place.