Title: Whatever Happened: Too Long and Too Late
Spoilers: None
Rating: R for naughty language
Summary: Set ten years in the future, Tim Drake(Robin), Cassandra Sandsmark (Wondergirl) and Kon-El (Superboy), have grown up and moved on.
When they
Author's notes: This came to me in the middle of Facades, and when a writer's bloc set itself so firmly in Facades, I had this to get me moving. Updates to Facades should be up within the week…hopefully ::crosses fingers::
Here we go…
***
The lights flash in my eyes.
The quick strobe matching the beat of the music is slowly giving me a headache. I never liked these things. The music pounds in a rhythm closely matching a beating heart, and over a hundred people bump and grind on a cramped dance floor.
This is Twist, one of the biggest dance clubs in Metropolis. It's filled to the brink with people hopped up on drugs, dizzy from alcohol, and giddy from the hormones that linger in the air. It reeks of cigarette smoke and alcohol and my headache, already bad from the music and lights, reaches the pounding of a jackhammer from the smell. I don't know why I came here. New York was stifling as ever; I had to get out of the apartment.
I push through a clump of people, pounding their hips against each other, waving their arms akimbo as they desperately try to keep up to the music and each other.
I can spot the bar.
It's one of many, situated like tiny islands on the outskirts of the dance floor. This one is towards the back, hard to get to unless you are one of the twisting throng of people.
I can spot blonde hair from back here. It seems to take on the colors of the flashing lights, alternating between green, red, blue and yellow, a consistent pattern that make my eyes hurt. For a moment I freeze; hypnotic lights keeping me in place
She has her head against the counter, and her bleary eyes watch as the bartender pours her another drink, a golden liquor that travels slowly, like molasses, from the bottle. Rum.
Pushing my way between coupled dancers and swinging arms, I slip into the chair beside her. Her eyes move over me quickly, dismissing me even quicker. She doesn't recognize me. She just grabs her drink, and lets her head lie facing the other direction, picking it up only to drink from the cup.
"Cassie." I shout over the music, my voice hoarse.
She ignores me.
"Cass!" I call out even louder. She is still, the only movement coming from the lifting of the cup and from swallowing.
"Wondy." I say this quietly, and she twists towards me, eyes dilated, hair askew.
"Who the fuck are you and how the fuck do you know that?"
Her words slur and her hands shake. Too much alcohol.
"Cass, it's me, Tim."
She looks taken aback for a moment, and then she squints, and leans closer. I can smell alcohol on her breath. Her eyes widen even more, and the angry look softens.
"Tim?"
I nod.
"Hey Cass."
She blinks, sets down her drink, and turns her whole body on the stool until she's facing me. She's wearing a tight purple, v-neck shirt, with some blue jeans that could be even tighter. She looks great, but her face looks like hell.
Her cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and her pale skin dotted with sweat. Her blonde hair is limp and hangs loosely against her shoulders.
"How the fuck did you pick up that English accent?"
"How the fuck, as you put it, did you become such a potty mouth?"
She laughs, a drunken laugh, as she gulps down another drink, "When the prick broke my heart." She threw back the drink, gulping down the rest of the glass in one swallow, letting the glass cup slam against the counter. The bar-tender raised his eyebrow, and began to poor another drink.
I reached out, stopping him, shaking my head. He got the message, and put the bottle back under the counter.
She looked at me disapprovingly, "I'm drowning my sorrows. You're interfering with the process."
I shook my head, "You've had too much."
She giggled again, and I reached out to steady her, "You always were the designated driver, Rob." She giggled some more, "When Kon or Cissie would bring alcohol, and get piss drunk, you would always hide the keys, wave some kryptonite, do anything to get us away from the car."
"As I recall, Cass, you never drank when they brought some."
"As you recall..." She giggled some more, then seemed to go serious, "I have reason."
"What reason can possibly be good enough to get this drunk?"
She looked at me, then motioned to the coaster from where her drink was standing. She lifted it up, pulling out two wrinkled and torn pieces. It was a picture, or used to be at least. She had torn it in half. One side was a smiling Kon, the other side was a smiling Cassie.
"Broke up?"
She nodded. She had managed to grab some other guy's drink, and was gulping it down when I turned to her.
"Not good enough."
She raised her eyebrow as she downed the drink again, "Oh really," She slurred, she pointed to the other piece, "Look at that."
I stared at it, it was another picture. It was a black and white photo, grainy and bad. But the faces that it captured were telling enough.
"I caught them doing it." She giggled again, as if it was something funny.
She leant in closer, whispering in my ear, "Fucking!"
She let out a peal of laughter, and managed to get her drink filled by the bar-tender before I could stop him.
"The idiot forgot about the security camera we had installed in the living room."
I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. Everyone knew it was going on. Kon was a friend of mine, but he was a bastard when it came to relationships, and completely unresisting when it came to the opposite gender.
"I kicked him out."
Bound to happen, and Cassie was the one that got hurt.
She was downing another drink, and I grabbed the cup from her, "Cass, that's enough."
She shook her head, "It's never enough. It's enough when I can forget we ever got together, that's," She punctuated her last words by grabbing another guy's beer and taking a gulp, "That's when it's enough." She downed the thing, "And I haven't gotten there yet."
I sighed. I had to get her out of there, Grabbing her arm, I lifted her up from the stool, "Let's get you home Cass."
She resisted for a moment, then acquiesced. I held her up, and helped her stand. She was unsteady on her feet, and it took more then 15 minutes until we got to my car.
**
She lay stretched across the back seat when we got her apartment. She propped herself up and stared through blurry eyes at her apartment building. She shook her head, "I ain't going in. He's there. With her."
"You kicked him out, remember?"
She blinked, "Oh…" She fell back against the seat, "I don't want go there." She started crying.
I sighed, pulling out from the parking lot and heading to the highway. When people get drunk they lose inhibitions, a lesser known fact was that they become emotional wastebaskets, crying being the manifestation there of.
Halfway to the apartment that I kept (Well Bruce, at least) in New York she had managed to fall asleep, cramped in my backseat. I managed to get her out of the car and into the elevator before she woke up.
I was holding her up, watching the numbers on the elevator tick up to 16 when she stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stared at me through bloodshot eyes, "Where are we going?" She asked, her head buried in my chest.
"I'm taking you to my apartment."
She started to push away, "Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean I'm easy."
"Cass…"
She sighed, snuggling even closer against my chest, "Jus' joking Rob."
She began to cry again, "I can't believe he did this to me again."
She whimpered, "He said it was the las' time. I believed him!" She laughed through her tears, "And I believed him! God how stupid am I?"
The elevator had reached my floor.
"What's wrong with me." She sniffed.
I fumbled for me keys, while I held her up.
"What's wrong with me?"
**
I set her down on my bed, pulling off her shoes and socks, and pulling over the down comforter. As I lifted her head, and set a pillow beneath it, her eyes fluttered open.
She's confused.
She's calling me Kon, and muttering something under her breath.
I want to hear what it is, but it doesn't involve me, she's confused, so I pull away. She panics for a moment, then grabs my arm with a clammy hand.
"Kon!" She shouts out, her voice high pitched, "Kon." She's pulling me back towards her, "Don't leave me." Her voice becomes soft, childlike, "I love you." She's pulling me closer.
God. I don't need to hear this.
"Please." She whimpers, and I let myself fall back against the bed, pushing myself up so I can lean against the headboard. She scoots in closer to me, pressing against my chest, crying.
I lift my hand for a moment, then let it fall back down on her shoulders. She's crying again, her tears wetting my sweater. I rub small circles on her back, and slowly the crying dies down.
I wait a few moments, bated breath until I think she's asleep.
I'm pulling away when she grabs onto my arm. Before I can stop her, she's got me in a liplock, her tongue exploring my mouth. I push away, falling back on the floor, her hands releasing me.
I push my self up, she's staring at me, a hurt look on her face.
Did I hurt her?
I don't recall hitting her, and for a moment I retrace my fall from the bed.
"I'm sorry Kon."
And she falls back asleep.
I quickly wipe my mouth with the back of my hands.
I shouldn't have fucking enjoyed it.
**
I hear someone in the bathroom. I sit up quickly, throwing the blanket to the floor and padding to the lit room quietly.
She's there, on her knees, bent over the toilet bowl. She's gripping the porcelain and leans in, throwing up.
I kneel beside her, reaching with a hand, pulling back her hair, and holding it as she retches again.
"Kon…"
She turns to me, her eyes focusing on mine, suddenly realizing I wasn't Kon. She glares at me angrily.
"Who the fuck are you and what the *fuck* are you doing in my apartment?"
I gave a small smile, "This is my apartment."
Her face fell, and she looked worried.
"Oh…god…."
She looked around, "I came home with a random person?"
I shook my head.
"But I don't know you."
"You don't remember?"
She shook her head slowly.
"It's me, Tim."
She looked taken aback for a moment.
"And I'm in your apartment?"
I nodded.
"How did I get…" She trailed off.
She had to throw up again.
Wiping her mouth, she spoke, "Now I remember…"
She pushed herself up from the tile, and put out a hand to steady her.
She pushed my hand away, "I, I have to go." Pushing past me, she retraced her steps back to the bedroom, finding her shoes and socks.
"Cass…"
I went after her. She was pulling up her stockings and stuffing her feet in her heels when she looked up at me.
"Why were you at the bar?"
I was silent.
She teetered on the edge of the bed for a moment, getting her bearings, then grabbing her bag. She pushed past me, roughly, stuffing her hair into a rubber band. Before I could react she had left the apartment, the door slamming shut behind her.
I raced after her, pushing through the closing elevator doors and grabbing her arm before she could disappear.
"Let go of me." Her voice was low, scratchy from the night before. She glared at me from hooded eyes and I couldn't, I wouldn't.
She placed her hand over mine, lightly at first.
"I'll talk to you later."
And my hand went limp.
**
I didn't know what to think when she called me up two weeks later. I don't know how she got my number, how she knew to reach me where I was, but that didn't matter.
She had called.
She wanted to meet at an outside cafe called The Citrus. Very upscale. If I would be anyone else, I would wonder why she could afford to meet in such a place. But I used to be Robin, I already knew why.
She was rich.
Filthy rich.
Not apparent with how she lived her life, but through some smart investments and quiet possibly some insider trading she amassed herself a fortune totaling a little less then a quarter of Bruce Wayne's wealth. That was saying a whole damn lot.
She pushed through the glass doors, all sleek and gray. She had on a gray skirt, reaching just below her knees, a slit traveling up to mid-thigh. She held a cell phone to one ear and Gucci glasses pulling back her hair. Walking on stiletto heels, I let my eyes dwell. Damn if I'm not a guy…
She was composed this time around. She looked professional, a busy CEO with a law degree from Harvard and a daily planner permanently attached to the hand.
She held her hand up, as if to momentarily silence me.
"No, damnit. Don't do that!" Setting down her purse, and slipping into her chair, she gave me a tight smile, then went back to her phone, "What? No! What did I just say? Don't sell. Don't do anything."
She had a look of a momentary confusion which spilt into anger as she shouted into the phone, "What did I just say??? Are you deaf or stupid???" She paused in her tirade, "Goddamnit! Wait. Ok? Can you understand that? Wait. Until. I. Get. There."
With that she pressed the off button on the cell phone and slammed it on the floor.
"Sorry." She smiled tightly, "Just…work." She seemed as if she needed to compose herself, so I remained quiet.
"Still haven't changed Tim." She grinned wryly, shaking her head.
I felt an eyebrow raise on it's own accord.
"Excuse me?"
She laughed, this time a gentle tinkling, then her previously drunken giggles, "For as long as I've known you, you always waited for the other to speak first." She leaned in, "I always suspected it saved you the trouble of making the first move."
I laughed at that, but kept silent.
"There! You're doing it again!"
I just gave her a grin and shook my head. I motioned over a waitress. She came by, a perky smile to her lips, and a pad and pencil.
"I'll have a gin and tonic." Cassie ordered.
It took all of my will- power not to react.
"I'll have just a cup of water, thank you." The waitress nodded, and left us.
She leaned in, "I know what you want to ask."
She leaned back against her chair, a finger tapping the table, the other playing with a strand of hair.
"Well?"
She just smiled a small smile, "When did I become an alcoholic?"
"April 28th, 2002, when you're mother died in a car accident, and you found your self in a bar…" I tapped my finger on the table, trying to job my memory, "On Metro and Third in Keystone City." I leaned in, "You ordered a gin and tonic, and the rest is history."
Her mouth dropped open.
"Son of a bitch…"
I wanted to grin.
The drink had arrived and she gulped it down, slamming it against the table.
"Son of a bitch!"
She shook her head as if trying to clear her mind, "I completely forgot how you can do that."
I gave a small smile.
Her eyes took a curious shade of blue as she leaned in again, moving her cup so she could get a better view of me.
"Now, let me ask a question-"
"Where did I get the English accent?"
She looked at me angrily, "Stop doing that!"
"Sorry."
She just shook her head.
"How did you know?"
"You asked me that two weeks ago."
"When I was drunk?"
I nodded.
She sighed.
"Look, Rob- Tim, I want to thank you for taking care of me then." She seemed nervous, as if she was angry at herself, "I was…I was angry and lost…"
I didn't say anything.
"So…the accent, do tell." She quickly changed the subject, uncomfortable with the Pandora's box she had just opened.
"After graduating I managed to get myself into Oxford."
She raised an eyebrow, "Why am I not surprised?" She motioned the waitress over again, this time ordering coffee under my glare.
"Stalin." She whispered under her breath, "So what did you major in?"
"Majored in forensic pathology, minored in psychological profiling."
"Oooh…..what, CIA, FBI, DEO?" She raised and eyebrow.
"FBI."
"Really…" She took a sip of her coffee, "Why am I not the least bit surprised?"
"As Dick puts it: It gives me a reason to be dark and brooding."
She laughed at that, and I made a note to make her laugh more often…
"I rather like the accent." She grinned slyly, "Makes you sound sexy."
I was taken aback for a moment. This woman in front of me, the last time I saw her, awkward and unsure, sounded like a sexual…vixen…
It put me at unease. Those who use sex as a tool usually have no qualms about doing the same with lives…
"Sorry, um…" She looked uncomfortable again, and it was unsettling to see her as such, as it reminded me of old times….
"Slipping into CEO bitch persona." She laughed nervously, "I..um…" She gulped down some more coffee, and I noticed her hands were shaking. She clumsily reached for something in her purse, pulling out a case of cigarettes.
I reached out and covered her shaking hand with my own, "Come on Cass."
She looked up at me, her eyes unsure, "Let's get out of here, I want to talk to you about something."
I was right.
Something was wrong.
***
We paid the bill with no problem, and soon we were walking on the street. She had the cell phone to her ear, and she was shouting at whoever was on the other line.
"I don't care what's going on. I have something important to finish up here." Her face showed confusion, "What? No! Get back to work!" And she slammed the phone shut.
"Ok, where were we?"
I just shrugged.
"Right." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, walking steadily on her high heels, "I- I'm not going back to him."
I didn't say anything, just kept my hands in pockets, and continued to walk beside her.
"I don't know why I didn't do it the first time…" She sighed, turning towards me, "Yes I do." She stared at a couple walking by, "Because I love- loved- him."
I said nothing.
She kept walking, looking periodically at me, and at the cars passing by, "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Not talking."
"I just did."
"Bastard." She smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling good-naturedly.
We walked in silence for a few minutes.
She was moving closer each step we took. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was just…right, but soon she had her hand threaded through mine, her head resting on my shoulder. Something was wrong.
I wasn't going to push her, I wasn't going to try and pull information from her. She wasn't a suspect, she wasn't a perp. She was a confused, emotionally battered friend, who's beautiful…where the fuck did that come from…face lay against my shoulder.
Best not mess with *that* boy!
God…what is wrong with me?
I want to move, get her off of me, but her smell, her…she's…god…
I keep walking, my hands in my pockets, her hands threaded through mine, her beautiful face on my shoulder.
**
We reached her apartment without incident. Along the way we talked about each other's lives. Cassie, Ms. CEO, was in the midst of closing a huge merger, and had been frantically struggling the whole week to get everything in order. This was the only free time she had taken in the past two weeks.
No, she hadn't spoken with Kon since the breakup, and no, she had no desire to do so.
So I sat on her couch, a cup of coffee warming my hands, steaming up my glasses. Cassie was changing out of her business suit. She laughed when she had said, "Into something more…comfortable."
She came back, shoulder length blonde hair tied in a bun at the base of her neck, makeup rubbed off, giving her skin a healthy glow. Her feet were clad in bunny slippers, and a thick terry cloth robe covered flannel pants and a tank top.
She sat cross-leg on the armchair, her fingers curling around a cup of hot cocoa. Her eyes were closed for a brief instant when she took in a whiff of the chocolate.
"Guilty pleasures."
I just took in a sip of coffee. Caffeine ran through my veins, I was awake now, more than ever. Night-time was falling, old habits died hard. Her windows kept out the light, but I knew it was dark outside. I could feel it.
Strange.
It seems so unnatural now.
When I was young, I would feel lost without it, without knowing what the time was, what it was like outside.
"Damnit, Tim, can you start at least one conversation? I'm running out of ideas here."
I smile at her, "About those Cubs-"
She threw up her hands in surrender, "Fine! You win!" with mock anger, she shouted, "Are you happy now? Huh? Are you happy?"
I took another swig of coffee.
She leaned in, and took another sip of her cocoa, "So how's the FBI? Catch any killers, "popped any caps" in someone's ass?"
I laughed shaking my head, "No, no caps for me. Desk work mostly. They give me files, fly me off somewhere, and hope to god the profile matches."
She cocked her head to the side, "You're not a field agent?"
I shook my head, "Nope…well, kinda sorta…"
"Kinda-Sorta? That's not FBI language."
"Work with me here."
"Is it hard…you know, doing what you do?"
I paused for a moment, I wasn't feeling comfortable, "It's hard as anything that I do…but I have to do it."
"Why do you do it?"
I shifted, the leather couch creaking with my movements, "I guess…" The conversation was getting to serious, "I guess the spandex just began to ride up."
She grinned sardonically, "Touchy subject?"
I nodded, taking a drink from my cup, "Touchy subject."
She shifted in her chair, "You're not helping with the conversation."
"I was never good at making one."
"What are you good at?"
"Being silent."
Her eyes narrowed, "Why is that? Why do you do that? Why can't you make simple conversation?"
"That's were you're getting it wrong."
"What am I getting wrong? That you can't talk with someone, that you are constantly on guard?" She seemed angry.
"I can't-"
"You can't what? Talk with people, with me? You can only talk with your friends? What does that make me?"
"Listen-"
"To what? You don't say anything. You sit there and you say nothing, you just look and you constantly judge, and you say nothing-" She was crying now, why was she crying?
I stood up from the couch, coming to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Cassie, what's wrong?"
She pushed my hand from her shoulder, pulling quickly away, "I'm sick and tired of people like you. You hide your feelings, you lie about others." She wiped a hand across her eyes, red eyes glaring angrily at me.
"Fuck people like you." She threw her cup across the room, chocolate tendrils staining the wall, "Fuck you, bastards that fuck with hearts." She sniffed, face crumpling. "Why?"
She slid to the floor against the wall, blonde hair against a white wall. I sat besides her, my hand rubbing her back, pulling her close to me. She had curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around tucked legs, blonde tendrils covering her face. She leaned heavily against my shoulder, tears soaking the shirt underneath.
**
I put my hand on her back, rubbing lightly, "Cass? What's wrong?" I whispered, leaning my face in close with her down turned one. Her hand still lay against the floor, the palm of the other, pressed against her eyes as if to dam up the tears.
There was a hitch in her voice when she spoke quietly:
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head, "Why?" I said, almost incredulously, "What have you done to be sorry?"
"I- just go." Her voice got quieter, if possible, and she shrugged off my hand. She pulled herself up from the floor, straightening her robe.
"But-"
She shook her head, "I can't handle this right now." She turned away, heading back into her room, "It's too much."
I followed her, I couldn't help it. I reached out with a hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently back to me, "Talk to me." I said to her upturned face.
Red tear streaks stained her cheeks.
God, she misses him.
I can tell. The way her shoulders move, the way she avoids my eyes.
Goddamnit, Drake, don't
analyze your friend.
Everyone keeps testing her. Me without words, Kon with his cheating…
"I-" She shook her head, "No, go-" She stops.
We're close. Noses barely touch; her hair feathers my neck, her lips centimeters, millimeters ways from my own. I can feel her breath falls lightly across my neck.
I let go of her wrist, and it falls limply to her side.
I make my way through the living room, until I reach the door. The brass is cool under my fingers. I turn it softly. I can feel her gazing at me, her eyes traveling up my spine.
I'm spun around, Cassie has her body pressed against mine. Her lips travel up my neck, meeting with my own. She pulls my bottom lip into her mouth….and god…I'm in heaven.
I twist around, pressing her against the wall, my hands bracing her face as I kiss her harder. Her hands travel up my back, and back down…
Hands travel…. clothing moved, shuffled…unbuttoned….
Then she pulls away, hand over her mouth, pained expression on her face. She closes her eyes.
"Go, Tim….just go."
And I do.
The door shuts behind me.
**
What happened back there?
I touch my lips briefly, then vigorously rub my face with my hands. I have to get her off of me, her smell out of my hair, and my hands and…
Someone is picking me up. My body flies through the air, slamming into the wall.
Fuck…
Crackle of energy.
TTK.
Kon.
I can't move, because his arm pressing against my chest, the other lifting me up again…by my neck. The pressure he is putting against my sternum will cause it to crack in approximately 30 seconds, sending shards of bone to pierce various organs, including my lungs and heart.
29 seconds.
"You bastard!" He was screaming, shoving me against the wall again. Blood was welling up beneath the skin.
He slammed me against the wall again, "You fucking bastard!"
26 seconds.
I couldn't breath…fuck….I can't breath…
25 seconds.
"How could you?"
Slam.
23 seconds.
"How fucking could you?"
21 seconds.
"Go for the vulnerable girls Rob? Can't get anyone else?"
Slam.
19 seconds.
"It's been two weeks, you bastard, two weeks."
14 seconds.
13 seconds.
12 seconds.
"How-"
Slam.
"Could-"
Slam.
"You?"
Slam.
The wall behind me begins to crack, blood dribbles down my shirt. He doesn't notice.
10 seconds.
Something was going to crack… I could feel my bone bending…
5 seconds.
"You bastard!"
My chest is…
"…collapsing."
His eyes opened wide for moment, as if he suddenly realized he was using his super strength.
He let go, and I fell to the ground, a limp rag doll.
He turned away, preparing to leave.
Through the cacophony of sound that was my breathing, and the dull thud of my heart beat, I could make out what he was saying:
"Don't hurt her."
Fuck him.
"Hurt her Kon?" I shout out after his retreating back, my hand rubbing my throat, "Like you did?"
I struggled to push myself off of the floor, unsteady hands holding up an equally unsteady body.
But I shout at him anyway, "Fuck you Kon!" It hurts to speak.
There are stabbing pains in my chest, it's as if fireworks are exploding within my ribcage, and the embers are still smoldering.
He pauses a moment, as if deciding whether to pummel me or scurry away.
Scurry you bastard.
I could take him. Even in this state. I know his weaknesses; I know his mistakes.
No you can't.
But I shout again anyway, "I'm not going to do what you did Kon!" I manage to pull myself up. There's blood on my fingers, and a red trail follows me ascent, "Because I'm not like you Kon. I don't fuck with people and try and see how far I can push before they break."
I walk past him now, limping painfully. He can't look me in the eye; he can't say anything, "I don't pretend to love people."
I shove him against the wall.
"I'm not going to hurt her like you did."
And I leave.
I hear a soft thump. It's his body sliding against the side of the wall, as he slowly sits down, legs pulled up, and his head in his hands. His shoulders shake.
The elevator opens and I limp painfully on. As the doors close Kon wipes his face.
I was wrong about one thing though.
He loved her.
The bastard still does.
**