Author's notes: All lyrics are directly from the musical Cinderella written by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein.

This work of fiction is not meant to be consistent with any specific recent Teen Titans comics, which is why Nightwing drops by for a visit and Arsenal as well. Some fans have asked "Where's Raven?" but given the pace and focus of this story, I didn't see a place for her guest appearance. (Read "Ameagari" for comic Raven's POV)

The Titans may be acting a bit crazy but it's in good fun.

A-A-A

Come one, come all!

Kingsway Annual Youth Center presents

SUMMER FESTIVAL MASQUERADE BALL

Live DJ, full dessert buffet, fantastic prizes, and more!

Must be costumed and/or masked to enter

August 4th at 9:00 PM

Rose plucked one of the flyers off the bulletin, studying it carefully with a hand pressed to her mouth in thought. Other girls around her were chattering nonstop about the public invitation, their mindless words of "hairspray", "boyfriend", and "karaoke" all being tuned out of her head.

She folded it up into a neat square before sliding it under the belt of her jeans. At first glance, the thought of a kid's dress-up party did nothing to appease the usually disinterested and hostile attitude of the girl. As the daughter of a psychopathic mercenary with inherited deadly abilities, Rose was accustomed to excluding herself from most worldly pleasures of this world.

That was unless, of course, they included violence.

Her pessimistic disposition also didn't help forging the breach between her family and the Titans. They went back as die-hard adversaries a very long time ago starting with the death of her half brothers, Grant and Joseph Wilson. Their blood had never seemed to wash off the Terminator's memory. His sword still craved to avenge their deaths at the loss of the Teen Titans juvenile lives.

Having lived in more than one home and seen more then one hundred conflicting choices, Rose was constantly torn between loyalty to her father and the upbeat challenge of the Titans. Her usual decision was to stay away from those kids so that her feelings could not betray any inkling of weakness or sentiment-two traits frowned upon by her father.

By the time Rose returned to her father's house it was late afternoon and the sun's rays were finally dimming beyond the horizon. He was standing in the training room with a sword in hand, slicing off limbs of the dummy with the most precise calculations. She stood in the doorway watching the tall white-bearded man perform the martial arts attack in precise choreographed steps. He was a genius. A relentless, shrewd, and treacherous man, but a genius all the same.

Slade stopped moving long enough for her to see the perspiration on his face, his gray-white strands of hair finally standing still as the blade in his hand. Her father beckoned to her with a finger, eyes still on his target.

"Come here, Princess," he ordered her over his shoulder.

Rose made sure the paper hadn't fallen out yet and walked forward with trepidation in her every step.

"Choose a weapon."

Rose picked up one of the katana swords that lay on the rack. She passed the instrument from one hand to another, feeling for a secure grip on the blade. Her father slowly circled her, looking for a possible sign of uncertainty that might betray any emotions. But Rose's icy mask had been molded to her face, almost as flawless as that of her father.

She bowed first while her father barely nodded his head in her direction. They bent their knees in locked positions.

Father and daughter launched simultaneous attacks. The phenomenal reflexes that the girl had inherited only added more fuel to the fight. Her blade aimed for his left shoulder but he blocked it, pushing the weapon away in a circular motion. Slade reacted rapidly and Rose was almost caught off guard from above. Almost.

She thrust the katana at a diagonal so that both swords clashed towards her forehead, merely inches away from her nose. Blow, strike, block, spin. Spin, strike, strike, blow.

"Sloppy," he chastised her, swinging the blade at her ankles. Rose jumped and simultaneously bringing her weapon down. But her father's experience far succeeded her own. He blocked her blow to his skull and pushed his daughter back harshly.

"You only see your opponent coming at you head on, Rose," Slade said as he bolted to his feet. "You must imagine the enemy enclosing you from all side if you want to defeat him."

Rose quickly recovered from her backwards stumble; breath tight in her throat from her father's chastising words.

The blade was coming from the right now. Rose whirled around, her ice-white hair a snowy blur in her face. The swords clashed again noisily.

Strike, blow, block, block. Spin.

She was knocked off her feet by a final ruthless thrust. The thin padding of the floor left little protection to her spine and the collision came on harsh when Rose fell flat on her face. The tip of her father's sword glimmered before her eyes.

"Remember, Rose. Enemy from all sides."

"Yes, Daddy," she answered quietly. The girl swiftly rose to her feet to avoid any further shame. She bowed slightly towards him, eyes kept downward to avoid starring into his penetrating gaze. Her cheeks were now flushed a bright pink; either from the vigorous workout or indignity at her own failure.

The faintest rustle of paper caught her father's supernatural senses. Rose saw his left eye was transfixed on the white square attached to her belt. She covered it with a hand to protect the precious document but Slade had already reached for it. He pulled the paper from her as easily as removing a toy from a kitten and carefully unfolded it. Rose remained in silence as her father scrutinized the lines, repulsion written all over his face.

"Don't tell me you actually considered going to this immature event." His voice dripped with disdain as he glared at his child. Rose forced herself to swallow disappointment and remain passive for now.

"Not anymore," she answered composedly.

"Good." He crumbled up the ball into a tight wad. "No daughter of mine is going to make a spectacle of herself at a publicity stunt. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Despite the heat on her face, Rose felt a draft of cold air whistle through the dojo.

A-A-A

A-A-A

Location: Titans Tower, San Francisco

Bart Allen filled the mixing bowl up to brim with lots of fluffy white popcorn. He happily popped a few kernels into his mouth while carrying the precious stash of snack food out of the Titans' kitchen and into the Entertainment Center.

To his disdain, Cassie and Mia were already on the sofa watching a movie.

"What's this?" he asked, chewing through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Cinderella," Cassie answered dreamily, head resting on her supported hands.

Bart bent over the couch and peered at the screen.

"Where's the squeaky singing mice and sisters with big noses?"

"This is a live version, Bart. It's not a cartoon."

Disgusted, Bart squinted closer to see the image of a man in silvery tights and a fury white collar singing a high airy song to a girl in a diamond-studded dress. Was he trying to woo her or endorse his favorite toothpaste?

Mia smiled at the image of the handsome raven-haired prince, adoration in her baby-blue eyes. Suddenly, she began to sing along with the lyrics on the television:

Ten minutes ago I saw you,
I looked up when you came through the door
My head started reeling, You gave me the feeling
the room had no ceiling or floor.

Bart just stood there with careless disinterest while Cassie began softly:

In the arms of my love I'm flying
over mountain and meadow and glen

To Bart's alarm, both Cassie and Mia finished in unison with voices in flawless harmony:

And I like it so well that for all I can tell
I may never come down again!

I may never come down to earth again.

"Booooring," he said, cramming more popcorn into his mouth. "Can't I watch the ball game, girls? Please? Puh-lease?" A spray of white fluffy bits flew over both blondes and they covered their heads quickly.

"Bart, no way. We've got the remote," Cassie smiled, waving it in his face.

"Oh, you mean this remote?" A red blur whizzed by Cassie and Bart was already standing on the other side of the room, remote control in hand.

"Hey, give it back, you little squirt!" Mia shouted.

Bart took off in a speeding dash out the door and down the hallway. Cassie flew across the carpeting in an attempt to catch him but the smaller boy had practically burned lines into the rug with his speed. The Fastest Boy Alive grinned wickedly as he tore up and down the Titans home within seconds.

Out of nowhere, a giant green pig landed on Bart's back, flattening him to the floor with a hug belly flop. "OW!" he yelled, poking the pig in the side. "Get off me, Gar! I'm suffocating."

"Tough luck," the emerald-tinted animal chortled with a snort. Bart yanked on the pig's tail with one hand while the other kept beating the floor for mercy.

Tim and Conner had just come out of the gym, faces sticky with sweat and towels around their necks when Cassie had picked up Beast Boy and hurled him directly towards them.

"Look out!" Bart shouted.

Tim flattened himself to the floor but Conner wasn't so lucky. The black-haired teen looked up and said "Huh?" just when a re-morphed Beast Boy hit him head on so they both smashed into a wall and fell in a heap.

"Now look what you did!" Tim declared, pointing to a newly created hole in the wall.

"Huh. Looks like modern art." Garfield Logan winced and rubbed his backside. "Oooh, I think I broke my tailbone," he moaned.

"All right, you asked for it." Tim twirled his towel and prepared to lash it like a whip in revenge. He was bolted down by Mia who was trying not to get creamed with two pillows by her ally.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Cassie nearly screamed with laughter even though she wound up with a mouthful of feathers. Both girls fell down in heap. Garfield use one of the pillows to sat Tim over the head. Conner had gotten up and wrapped an arm around Bart's neck before grinding his knuckles into the boy's scalp. Bart scrambled his feet so they pounded terribly fast until the Boy of Steel was forced to let go.

"AHEM!"

The teenagers all stopped tickling, shoving, pulling, punching, and kicking each other with good natured humor long enough to see Nightwing standing in front of them. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was tapping his muscular bicep with one index finger, his handsome face hardened with disapproval.

"Meh," Beast Boy's voice came out high and squeaky. "What's up, Dick?"

"I was going to offer to take everyone to a masquerade party tonight," he said, pulling a paper out of a hidden compartment in his utility belt. "But if you'd all rather babysit each here in the Tower, be my guest."

The teen stopped their game and all crammed their heads in front of the flyer that unfurled before them.

"Oh boy, a party!"

"Really? Can we go?"

"Duh, that's why its there."

At Nightwing's order, they got off each other and began to plan for an exciting evening. A series of gleefully amusing debates had sprung up between the Titans.

"Maybe the three of us can go as something," Bart suggested, pointing to Tim, Conner, and himself.

"I wear a mask enough times in one week," Tim insisted with arms out in protest. "No way are we adding in any more tights or disguises to the wardrobe."

"And I'm not going as a three-headed monster either."

"How about the Three Stooges?" Beast Boy suggested.

"Or Three Blind Mice?" Mia offered.

Conner punched a fist into his hand. "No, we've got to do something cool, something impressive."

"What are you going as, Gar?"

"Simple. Consumer Reports tester for drinking water. Victor said I have the coloring."

"I'll run down to the fabric shop and get stuff," Bart offered.

"No wait, time out," Cassie said, making a gesture with her hands. "Are you three going as mice or not?"

"No. A three flavored chocolate bar I can do, but I am not dressing up as a rodent," Tim insisted.

"Yeah, so what: I'm chocolate, Bart's vanilla, and you're strawberry?"

"Mmmm, strawberry-flavored Boy Wonder."

"No, seriously. What should I go as?"

"How about the World's Largest Talking Booger?"

"Ewwww!"

A-A-A

Kodoku yori mo motto sabishii mono wa

Sono kodoku ni kizukanai koto

"A thing that's even sadder than loneliness

Is not realizing that loneliness"

-Takayama Miyuki

Rose lay on her bed and gazed up at the ceiling. Dinner had been a silent and reserved meal with her father. She did not dare asking him to reconsider his words so the girl remained a solemn statue with her hands folded in her lap the entire time. She had been watching him with a mixture of fear and awe. If Slade was angry with her then he did an excellent job concealing it.

He had drank a glass of wine and retired to his office where he would be spending the next twelve hours bent over his papers and maps. He was putting together a personal assignment to be carried out in Tunisia and Rose was ordered not to disturb him. He'd leave tomorrow.

If only he had left today, then she wouldn't feel half as dejected about the flyer. Just a stupid kid's part, right? She was sure it would be frightfully dull and boring…and thrillingly different for a change.

All the other teens in town were happily getting ready for it without a care in the world while she was trapped under her father's watchful eye and the ghosts of two deceased stepbrothers. Damn them all.

And damn her father for his "business" plans that gave him necessary obligations to carry out.

"They're not killings", he had once told her. "They're executions." Slade explained his logic to Rose that the world was becoming an overpopulated place, many people of which were fools and idiots that breed upon its bountiful gifts and abused the world. He was doing the planet a favor by removing these sniveling cowards that had caused much economic, political, and even supernatural loss for mankind. What about the consequences?

"If you're damned to hell for someone else then heaven's not worth being in either."

Maybe this made sense at some point but its words were left listless to Rose. Tonight she had the strangest overwhelming temptation to do something unique, something she would never dare defy in his face openly.

She swung her foot back and forth in restlessness. It was 8:40 already. Her father was two stories below her and absorbed in his work. He could easily suspect that she was up to something-or chose to ignore her. The curtains danced in a teasing flicker caressed by the summer breeze, beckoning for her to break away this one night. The impulsive request that had been nagging at her was gradually beginning to increase its appeal.

Are you going to that party or not?

Rose lifted up the latch and climbed out the window.

A-A-A

The long red cloak swirled to the floor while Mia turned around in front of the mirror, smoothing out any last minute wrinkles. "How do I look?" she asked Bart, crimson hood over her blonde curls.

He looked up from fumbling with the brass buttons on his shirt. "What are you supposed to be-a hot tamale saleswoman?"

"Little Red Riding Hood."

"Hold still," Cassie told Conner. She took a pin out of her mouth and fastened it into the collar of his vest. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another anxiously without looking too pleased about his costume.

"Did guys really wear tights in those days?"

"Yeah, and they did it too in Cinderella."

Tim saw Cassie and Mia get that twinkle in their eyes again. He groaned and covered his ears but it was too late. They had linked arms together and begun to sing:

Do you love her because she's wonderful,
or is she wonderful because you love her?
Is she the sweet invention of a lover's dream...
Or is she really as wonderful as she seems?

Bart fell quiet for a moment. There was indeed, a girl he thought was wonderful but if it was a result of love…or if he loved her first, that was an enigmatic puzzle he couldn't solve.

From the start, Dick Grayson had cautioned the newly recruited Titans that Slade Wilson was a man with venom coursing through his veins. The great tragedy about this venom was that its bitter gall had seeped into the lives of his entire family: his wife, two sons, and also his daughter. Burying the hatchet for a short while, nonetheless, could not change Rose. Sooner or later she would inherit her father's ruthlessness and kill anything that stood in her way without regret or compassion. Nightwing saw it crystal clear. Good or bad, to each his own.

Bart only wished he saw it half as clear. After all, he had Jay, Wally, Linda, and all of the Titans for family. The pretty white-haired teenager had a monster for a father. Bart resented what it was doing to her: freezing all emotions out of Rose until she'd be as bitterly cold as the Terminator. He wouldn't just let her turn into an icicle.

"Hello, earth to Bart!" Tim adjusted the triangular hat so it tilted at a jaunty angle on his head. His quirky smile perked up at the unnatural silliness of the situation while his friend looked over his shoulder skeptically.

"We look like a bunch of chimpanzees," Conner frowned.

"And I'm sure someone will say the same thing about us in a hundred years," Dick said, stepping forward. The other Titans looked at his attire with dismay.

"You're supposed to be dressed up in a costume, not just 'dressed up'," Bart insisted to Dick. "Or are you going as the Penguin?"

"I'm chaperoning, that's all." Dick adjusted the collar on his jacket. "Are we going or not?"

Tim's hand brandished his plastic toy sword triumphantly. "Merry men and women, the Titans are taking the night off. We have a party to attend!"

"Can't you go off a day without being Robin Hood?"

A-A-A

The curtains in the vintage store were a tacky shade of dark green and felt like sandpaper. They were so flimsy that Rose swore the pimple-faced boy that was called a "salesman" could see her right through them—hence the need to remain as fully clothed as possible.

Two rejects lay on a chair: something in a loud hot pink color and a very bizarre frilly brown skirt. Nothing looked half adequate enough for tonight's daring venture. Mr. Pizza Face had then pulled down a large box off a shelf and slid it under the curtain to his only customer.

Rose was down to her last resort. She took off the lid of the dusty box and looked inside. "Is this really what it's supposed to look like?" she asked skeptically through the curtain.

"Who knows?" he shrugged on the other side. "Some college geeks used it for A Midsummer Night's Dream."

Rose turned over a sheet of tissue paper and lifted out the garment. There were the gossamer wings, white and dainty and glistening with pristine silk. Maybe you needed them to fly to heaven; they were so large and airy. At least they came separate from the dress.

"Jacket," he said aloud.

Rose dropped the box. "Huh?"

"You wear the costume without the jacket, drop the wings, and you don't get away with being a fairy princess," he informed her.

That sounded better. She had no interest of looking like an oversized insect or wearing a sign saying I STING on the back.

Her watch read 9:20 PM. Either wear the damn costume or go back and face her father.

Rose pulled her green shirt up over her head and arms and stuffed it into her backpack. She gathered up the rustling cerulean material in her arms and slowly lifted it over her hair and down her shoulders to her waist and the rest of her body, slid the dress down slowly so as not to tear it. The skirt had an irregular shape to its edge so the frills stood out in flirty curves like a flower's petals down to her ankles.

There were only two pairs of shoes to choose from. One had dangerously high heels with the color and texture of a poisonous snake. The other pair of shoes were light blue sandals, the heels and tips glistening with a pattern of tiny sapphire sequins. Rose studied the label inside one of the shoes. It was one size too big and looked like a wedding slipper but she wasn't going to wear the ugly reptile pumps either.

The girl kicked off her heavy sneakers and pulled off the thick sweat socks. She slipped her bare feet into the sandals, astonished at how deliciously cool they felt in the late summer breeze. It was oddly satisfying how her toes managed to wiggle freely in their new state.

"D'you have any bobby pins?" she called to the salesboy over the curtain.

A cheap tin container was tossed over and landed in her hands.

Rose pried it open and studied the contents of the box.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"It's that or the butterfly ones, lady." She swore he was laughing at her own expense.

Rose pulled out the tiny flowery hairpins. Grabbing a handful of hair, she pushed half of her silvery mane off her neck and twisted it into a loose bun before sticking in the pins. She pushed the extra stands of hair behind both ears and was finished.

It had all taken less than fifteen minutes to put everything together.

There was no mirror in the "changing room" so she pushed back the scratchy curtains and took a step forward, facing the other teen with her hands on her hips.

"Well?" she asked, scanning his face for an answer.

His eyes widened behind coke-bottle glasses. A wad of sour grape gum rolled out of his open mouth and onto the floor. He whistled softly.

Approved.

Rose put whatever money she had on the counter, picked up the skirts of the dress, and marched out of the store feeling like a martyr going to the stake.

A-A-A

The party was already in full swing by the time Rose arrived. Kids dressed up as pirates, Hippies, elves, and more were dancing-or at least stomping-in time to the music that was overly loud yet had a steady rhythm to it. She shuffled in through the side door and slowly began to make her way through the crowd. A few glanced at the presence of the elusive newcomer but mostly they were preoccupied with their own dance partners. She only prayed that the flimsy dress wouldn't tear off in the jostle of the crowd.

Was that Grayson over there? Rose squinted to see better. Yes, it was him alright. His arm was around the waist of his longtime lover, Kory. The warrior princess was wearing one of those cat-ears headbands atop her flowing red stresses, emerald eyes glowing brighter than any of the other flashing lights that darted around the room.

Dick himself was costumed in a black tuxedo and looked like a younger James Bond. With his thick black locks, broad shoulders, and pearly white teeth, Grayson appeared to be increasing the temperate in the room. Other girls were starring at him and whispering to each other in hushed tones. There was no denying it. The man could raise the pulse of a store dummy-he was that good looking.

If those two were here then the others were likely close behind. She followed a few teens up to the second floor, taking small steps to insure that her shoes wouldn't fall off. The lights had been dimmed low enough so Rose could just make out a dozen or so figures that were shifting across the dance floor. An iridescent disco ball rotated slowly above their heads. Cheap, but effective.

"Rose?"

She bristled at the sound of her name. A lanky boy stood before her, hat nearly falling off his rumpled reddish-brown hair. He looked equally as stunned to see her.

Her dry lips parted. "Bart?"

She glanced up and down his costume. He was dressed in a purple velvet vest over an oversized silk white shirt and wore a long black cape attached at the throat of his ruffled collar. Dark green pants and a three-cornered hat piled up ridiculously high with plumes and feathers completed Bart's wardrobe.

"What on earth are you supposed to be?"

"One of the Three Musketeers?" he suggested meekly. Bart took off the hat and turned it over in his hands. "What do you think?"

What did she think? He looked astonished beyond all descriptions to see her. Whether it was a gesture of alarm or delight, Rose was unable to decipher his face's message. She suddenly wished time could revert itself to several hours ago before she had any desire to do this nonsense act of foolishness.

"Your mustache is on crooked," she informed him. Bart rubbed the bristly hairs of the face hairpiece that was starting to droop from his upper lip. The boy frowned irritably. He peeled the mustache off and put it in his pocket.

Rose's gaze shifted around the room tensely. "Where are your friends?"

"Timmy Timbo, alias Captain Geek-a-zoid, is busy translating Japanese lyrics to some rabid fan girls and Conner is probably dancing with Cassie on air," he shrugged.

"Oh."

The sound of their breathing was almost deafening in contrast to the calmness of the room. He wanted to yell out "What the heck are you doing here!" but not at the risk of having them both kicked out of the dance room. Then she'd definitely never speak to him again.

It was Bart's turn to feel awkwardly foolish. "Does, um, anybody know that you're here?"

"No."

He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. Well, as long as they were standing there, he might as well try jumping off a cliff or the next best thing. Bart cleared his throat abruptly to get her attention.

"Do you...maybe...wannadancewithme?" he mumbled out the last bit quickly.

She starred at him like he was speaking Swahili. "What?"

Bart crossed his fingers behind his back. "Dance. With me."

The pause before she spoke felt like infinity to him. To his amazement, Rose nodded in acceptance of his offer. "All right. But keep your hands in the upper hemisphere."

Bart took the hint and gingerly placed his hands on her slender hips.

"Is that too tight?"

"No, its fine."

They began to move their feet apprehensively in an attempt to catch up with the mellow guitar strings from the bandstand. A million words were begging to be spoken between the two teenagers yet only silence was the suitable barrier to keep either one from saying any sort of offensive material.

Bart kept staring at his dance partner. Her silvery white hair, usually worn down, was now swept off her neck into graceful bun revealing pale bare shoulders. Long black eyelashes adorned her large sky-blue eyes which where the same color of her dress. She wore no makeup or jewelry except for a few tiny silk rose pins in her hair yet their soft tones suited her colors just fine to only enhance the girl's natural beauty.

"Wow. You look…nice," he stuttered. "Like Cinderella, only better."

The compliment sent strange ripples of shock through her frame. A pale pink glow unexpectedly blossomed in her cheeks. "Thank you. I always liked Cinderella."

"Yeah, the girls have been watching it lately. But anyone would get pretty sick of mean stepsisters if they were treated like a dirty rag," Bart blurted out. "Maybe that's why Cindergirl gets to be a real princess in the story. She'll live happily ever after and things turn out all right."

His optimistic words did not become the balm of comfort that he hoped for. Rose stopped moving and averted her gaze from him.

"Bart." Her shoulders sagged with her voice. "There's no such thing as happily ever after. Not with me at least."

Unfazed, he gradually started moving again with the music and to his bewilderment, she was also swaying along with it while he talked. "How do you know it's 'ever after' until your life is really over?" he insisted. "You'll never know how everything turns out unless you want to-or at least try to make things go right for you."

Rose's lips pursed up in silence as she thought about his words. The song ended up in a steady soft roll of drumsticks and two beats followed by a ripple of applause from the audience. The bass guitarist took his cue. He strummed his strings before another melting sweet song softly materialized into the air and drifted around the room. They continued to dance for a few more minutes.

"I'm tired," she said at last. Bart stopping in his tracks.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he offered.

"No, not like that." She drew out a breath and slowly pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear revealing both crystal-blue eyes.

"I mean, I'm tired of feeling this way." Rose felt the nagging sensation of an obstacle hardening in her throat and she forced it back down. "Feeling like I can't trust anyone and it's just me out there in the world."

"Rose…" A warm hand had seized her own.

Bart was stunned to feel her fingers-they were cool to the touch. She didn't shake off his grip, at least not yet. Strong words were pushing up out of his conscience, just begging to be spoken and listened to. Words that he had been waiting a long time to say.

Bart gulped weakly and prayed that his heart wouldn't leap out of his chest.

"I know I've kind of bugged you at times and you've got a lot of issues to work out so I don't blame you for that. I mean, I know you had it tough with your Dad and losing your Mom and all being shoved around like that."

He paused for air and went on.

"But I think that deep down inside you're really a really really good person and-I, I know I'm not a prince or anything… but I'd really want to make you happy if you'd just give me a chance."

This was all mumbled out so fast that it came like a buzz from his lips. He breathed deeply and attempted to speak again, slower this time so that she could hear him properly.

"I want to make you happy," he repeated aloud.

He waited for her to frown, push him away, or punch him in the nose.

Rose drew her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to his body. Her head rested on his velvet-padded shoulder for support, still rocking back and forth from the music. My god, he had no idea…how her hands were that cold but her body felt so warm when it was drawn this close to his own. He could hear her deep breaths rising in and out of her chest.

"You already have," her voice came out in a muffled gasp from his neck. "Thank you, Bart."

When she finally withdrew her arms from him, he noticed a tiny tearstain had formed on the edge of his collar. Rose wiped the faintest bit of moisture from her eyes and turned her head slightly in line to his own. He felt silken hair tremblingly brush against his neck and face just before soft full pink lips pressed against his cheek. Bart swallowed hard, heart beating faster than his feet could ever carry him. Somehow there were loud bells and songs of joy ringing in his head allat once.

"Thank you God Almighty and X'hal and Azar and whoever else is operating the planet right now! Thank you one million times over and ever so much from Mr. Bart Allen!"

Arms wrapped around each other in a secure embrace as they danced slowly, dissolving into the crowds of other people gliding around them. The darkness of the room safely hid them from all prowling eyes and anything that might have shattered this peaceful evening. Together they were protected just enough in each others arms and there was no need to fear while a sliver of moonlight shined down from a starlit sky.

The night is long….but not long enough sometimes.

A-A-A

Several hours later:

"I know you're awake."

Slade pushed the door wider open and stepped into the bedroom. Rose turned over under the covers knowing that her imitation of slumber could not fool her father. She had just barely snuck back in through her window, shed her clothes, and climbed into bed when she heard ominous footsteps coming upstairs.

Slade stood there with his hand resting on the doorknob, his body a massive black silhouette stark against the yellow lighting of the hallway. She reluctantly propping herself up on her elbows and starred at him.

"You went out to that party tonight, didn't you?"

She bit her lower lip as an answer. He said nothing but stepped into the room. Slade averted his attention down to a shining piece of footwear that had been shoved haphazardly halfway under the skirt of her bed.

He bent over, picked up the shoe, and studied it. Just a pretty sandal, that's all. Such a small delicate feminine thing, he mused to himself. Adeline might have worn shoes like this one. Or Lillian. It had been a very long time since he had been accustomed to seeing things like this, whimsical things that echoed in a serene memory locked deep inside of a bottomless tormented soul.

"Hn."

He placed the shoe carefully on her dresser. The springs of her mattress creaked when he took a seat at the edge of her bed and gazed at her. Rose's hands curled into the fabric of her comforter when his lone dark blue eye glistened in her direction with keen interest.

"Daddy, are you still going to Tunisia tomorrow?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

"Today is tomorrow," he informed her.

Rose noticed that the wrought brass hands on her wall clock indicated that it was already past 3 o'clock in the morning.

"Oh."

He shook his head in disapproval but said nothing. A large hand come to the side of her face and cupped her cheek delicately. He bent closer to his daughter and gently kissed her on the forehead. A thumb brushed over her forehead smoothing away a few strands of hair.

"Get some sleep, Rose. It's late."

She wasn't tired but she did comply with his order and lay back on the pillows, silvery drapes of hair spread across them like a spring rain shower. Slade pulled the covers up to her chin just before rising from the bed. He turned off the lights and was just about to close the door when she spoke:

"Good night, Daddy."

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams."

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The inhabitants of Titans Tower were also dead beat for whatever was left of the evening. Endless routines of the Chicken Dance, hula hoop contests, and several trips to the ice cream sundae bar didn't help the teens when they all came home with headaches and stomachaches as a result from the festivities. But everyone was clearly happy that he or she had participated and went to bed right away. Almost everyone.

Roy Harper was crashing on the sofa that night, having offered to house sit while everyone was at the party and since Victor was out of town for the weekend. Now boisterous tones could be heard coming from his nostrils, as he lay sprawled over the cushions fast asleep. Arsenal had a reputation for shooting deadly weapons but nobody could deny his frightful snores would easily scare away his adversaries just as much.

BLAM!

Roy woke up with a snort when he heard the door slam.

"Woah, woah, hold your horses," he mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He sat up on the sofa and something red and brown whizzed past him in a blur.

SCREEECH-VOOOM!

Bart skidded to a halt, hair in a tangled mess and clouds of dust materializing at his feet. His arms were full and he looked fully awake from his quick cross-country trip. The boy noticed their present guest so he grinned and waved at Roy.

"Hi."

Roy starred at the fractured digits of the clock above Bart's head. "Where have you been? For Christ's sake, its 4:30 AM!" he groaned aloud.

"It's 7:30 in Philadelphia," he explained to Roy. The older teen blinked groggily.

"So?"

"So there's a music store that opens up early every day at six and I popped over to get these." Bart waved a stack of floppy books in the air. Roy squinted to read the titles.

"Sheet music for South Pacific? Oklahoma's Classic Songs?" He scratched his scruffy red beard. "All right. Who are you and what have you done with Bart Allen?"

"I'm going to teach myself to play this stuff," he announced.

"Why?"

Bart sat down at the electric keyboard and began flipping through the music books. Eyes swiftly flew over the pages while his lightning-fast memory saturated the words and musical exercises in 30 seconds time. When he was done, Bart tossed the books aside and faced the keyboard. Fingers quickly flew over the ivory keys in a blur until a familiar tune was drifting through the air. He began to sing:

"Are you making believe you see in her
A girl to perfect to be really true?"

Roy moaned aloud and fell back onto the couch with a flop. "I knew I should've stayed in Star City this weekend," he declared with a pillow mashed against his face.

Several lights clicked on in the hallways and voices started to drift around the Tower.

"Tell me I'm still asleep."

"What's he been drinking?"

"Don't make me break your neck, Allen."

"Do you love her because she' wonderful, Or is she wonderful because you love her?"

"You gotta admit, he's good."

"This is all your fault, ladies."

"Geez, what time is it?"

"Bart, for the love of God…"

"GO TO SLEEP!"

"Is she the sweet invention of a lover's dream...
Or is she really as wonderful as she seems?"

END

Author's notes: I ask in humble forgiveness if characters seem "out-of comic character " in this story but I adore Bart/Rose ever so much and just couldn't resist doing something unexpected.

And yes, I strongly recommend watching all of Roger's and Hammerstein's movies—they are eternal classics.