I've already sent chapter nine of Nowhere Left to Run to a beta-reader. It should be posted early next week.

This short fic was written for a prompt on Tumblr. Reposting it here because I would love to see Morgan and Carter interact.


Zoe couldn't decide if this was an example of more trust—letting her know about Detective Carter's role in the Batsquad—or less trust, considering that the detective was supposed to give her the information verbally rather than leaving a digital trail.

The question of trust didn't really matter, she supposed, considering that she'd already figured out that both Carter and her police partner were helping 'Harold' and 'John'. Really, Zoe should be asking herself exactly why she was involved in one of their schemes. Again. Even though she'd told herself to stay away after the last time, when Harold had been taken by that fake psychologist. Bad for her health to have acquaintances like these.

Yet here she was, walking into a mid-town coffee shop, where Detective Carter was already waiting. Like John, the detective had a habit of keeping an eye on the exits, automatically scanning the room for threats. Another reminder why Zoe didn't need company like this.

"Ms. Morgan." The woman gave her a look that was mostly—but not completely—stripped of irony.

She had to respect the detective's control. "Detective Carter."

Neither referred to the previous time they'd met, during a murder investigation. Instead Carter got directly to business, passing along information that Zoe was certain hadn't come from police files—at least not exclusively. It had Harold's discreetly knowledgeable fingerprints all over it. A reminder that curiosity was part of why Zoe kept coming back to this; she wanted to know that man's sources.

In order to acquire this level of knowledge, Zoe had what amounted to a stable of people who owed her various kinds of favors. Harold appeared to have himself, his attack dog John, and two police detectives. Not only that, but Harold himself apparently didn't exist. Too interesting to leave the unanswered questions alone.

Someday Zoe would have to investigate her own previously-latent pushes toward benevolence, but for today she'd settle on curiosity as her motivation.

The detective looked at her questioningly; too long of a silence, she supposed. "I'll check into it," Zoe told her. "You'll hear from me by this evening at the latest."

Detective Carter nodded and pulled out some dollar bills to pay for the coffee. Glancing at Zoe, she narrowed her eyes before saying, "It was their choice to pull you in on this."

"In other words, you're not convinced I'm one of the white hats. You shouldn't be."

Carter's lip twitched in an effort not to let any part of a smile show. Zoe added, "I won't screw them over, though." Not this time, she thought to herself. She would give fair warning if she ever found herself on the opposite side. Because betrayed attack dogs and tenacious police detectives made for more unhealthy company, and because she still didn't know Harold's sources. Zoe Morgan had no intention of finding them out the hard way.

She put her own large bill on the table and walked out after the detective. Maybe her hat was a lighter shade of gray today, Zoe reflected.