Title: Wannabe

Author: Simon

Characters: Dick/Donna/OC

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A wannbe fan of Robin's isn't too tightly wrapped.

Warnings: Deathfic. You're warned.

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes. I call Donna 'Troia' here simply because I prefer the name to Wonder Girl, so no notes about how I got it wrong, please. I know. I'm over it.

Wannabe

He knew that she'd go with him of he could just figure out the right way to ask her.

It had taken months, but he had the money for the prom tickets all saved up and he could borrow his brother's tux since they were almost the same size. All he had to do was to figure out a way to ask her so that she'd say yes and not laugh at him. Then he'd smile and maybe, maybe, he'd even touch her hand or something. He'd make sure she told him what color her dress was so he could get the right color flowers and they'd go and they'd slow dance and maybe she'd even let him take her out onto the patio where it was dark…

He was in love with her.

In fact, he'd loved her since about the third grade when she had included him at her birthday party. Usually he wasn't invited to things like that and so when the invitation was dropped on his desk, along with everyone else's in the class, he was happy almost beyond words. She was blonde and small and quick and smart. She was the class beauty and the most popular girl in the school. She barely knew he existed but her mother had told her that if she was going to hand out the invitations in school, she had to include everyone and so, grudgingly, she had, figuring that she could ignore the ones she didn't really want there.

He loved her all through elementary school and offered to carry her books in Junior high.

In high school she was Homecoming queen and captain of the cheerleaders and he'd heard that she'd just broken up with her longstanding boyfriend so maybe he'd have a chance.

He loved her.

He had to get her to say yes; to get her to agree to go to the dance with him.

But in the end she didn't go with him, in fact, she turned him down rather cruelly and that was the problem. Maybe if she had gone with him, or even refused him kindly things would have been different.

He began seeing the stories in the newspapers and magazine when he was studying accounting in the local community college. There was a kid who seemed to be partnering with Batman. He was young but what really set him apart was not just how young he was, or how good at what he did, but how much fun he had as he went about his business; he was always laughing, joking and seemed so perpetually happy; something that seemed to be a rarity in that business.

The boy was unique, different. He was one of a kind.

Intrigued, he began collecting articles and books about Robin, learning everything he could. There was a sort of blackout on his past or his family; nothing was known about where he really lived or how he'd become a hero, but what was known was enough to keep the man interested. He took up Tae Kwon Do because he'd read that Robin was a master at it and he started eating healthier than he had been. He cut out McDonald's and grease and started to get himself in shape. He lost sixty pounds. He even thought about joining the police before he learned what was involved and how long it would take. Instead, he quit his accounting course three credits shy of his degree and signed on with a security company. Assigned to work at the local mall, he was issued a uniform and he was happy. He was doing what Robin did, and he felt a bond with the boy.

After a couple of years he saw that there was a new group of heroes working and this group was different than the usual ones you'd hear about. This group was all kids, young teenagers no more than thirteen or fourteen and they were led by Robin. There were four or five of them and one of them was a girl—and she was beautiful with long dark hair and the bluest eyes.

He learned what he could about her and everything he read made her that more special. She was strong and independent, she was talented and she was, from all reports, kind. She was sweet and loving and she could hold her own against those boys she hung around with. He could tell just by looking at her that she was wonderful and he determined to meet her. She was everything he wanted.

And Robin had included her in his group, so she had to be special.

He looked in the papers and on the internet and after almost a year of searching, found out that she would be attending a dinner in Washington DC to help open relations between the US and Paradise Island, which was where everyone said she came from. He wrote her a letter asking if he could maybe meet her there and was thrilled beyond words when he received the answer with a signed picture of her and a letter saying she was glad he'd written.

Proud and excited, he had shown the letter to a couple of the other guards and was angry and hurt when they'd laughed at him, insisting that it was just a form letter and she'd never even seen his note to her. She probably had a staff of people and secretaries to handle things like that. All those people did and he should consider himself lucky that he'd even gotten any kind of reply since most fan letters were just thrown away.

No, not his girl. She didn't do that. She was better than that and kinder, nicer. She wasn't like the rest.

Yeah, yeah sure, they said. She was probably doing a lot more than just working with those other kids, those boys. Young, healthy, all of them athletes and full of teenaged hormones—sure they were all just friends. Sure they were.

Oh, he still liked to follow Robin, but he wasn't as much fun as he used to be. Maybe it was because he was the leader or something, but he was getting more serious and didn't always seem to be having as much fun as he used to. He didn't seem to smile as much as he used to, either.

Of course, it didn't help that the spoiled little turd hadn't answered any of the letters he'd sent, but even so he'd forgiven Robin. More or less. He was probably just busy, but…he still should have answered. She had answered, after all.

The man decided that while Robin still had some good qualities, he was probably stuck up and rude and after that he paid more attention to Wonder Girl than to Robin.

She was beautiful and he loved her.

He talked about her at lunch a few times but the other guys didn't understand. They looked at the pictures and made crude comments about how she filled out her costumes and what they'd like to do with her and how she was probably doing it with those boys in the Titans and how she must have been the main perk for those boys.

That was it. He wouldn't dignify their filth with an answer and he wouldn't eat lunch with them, either. She was good and pure and she was right for him and as soon as he could meet her they'd both know it. They'd see one another across a room or something and that would be that. They'd know. They'd both know.

He still bought the magazines, every week, and he looked for her picture and he loved her. In a couple of them he thought she looked like she was trying to send him a message and he understood. He did. He knew she wanted him, too.

A few weeks later he took the bus to Washington. He hadn't been able to get an invitation to the reception, but he'd applied and been accepted as a security guard for a company based in Arlington, just across the river. He figured that it would be easy to get work at some of the big parties that were being planned because of the Amazon embassy opening and he should be able to work a couple of them.

He knew, he just knew that somehow she'd see him there and it would all work out.

It would.

Maybe that was her plan all along. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more that made sense. He'd meet her at one of those big parties any day now.

He didn't get to work the big State Dinner at the White House since you needed special clearance for that, but he went there anyway.

He was at the East Gate at six, with the guests expected to begin arriving at seven. He was right in the front row where she wouldn't be able to miss him. He had flowers and he was wearing his brother's tux. It was a little short now since he'd grown a few inches since high school, but that would be all right. She wouldn't mind. She wouldn't laugh at him and she's smile and put her hand on his arm and they'd go inside together and it would be perfect.

He stood there for over an hour, watching the people pass through the security post, through the metal detectors in their evening clothes. He heard the applause and the crowd when Wonder Woman arrived but he didn't care about her. She was too tall and too old and he'd heard that she might be a lesbian and that was unnatural and disgusting so he barely looked at her.

The other guests lined up, waiting their turn, invitations in hand and finally, half way down the line, he saw her. His girl. She was there all dressed in a long gown made out of midnight blue material that had some special sheen to it and she was beautiful.

The line was moving quickly; she'd see him in a couple of minutes. She'd see him and she'd smile a special smile meant just for him and she'd walk over to him and smile at the flowers and thank him. She'd take his hand to lead him over to the clearance area and they go in and the music would start and everyone there would watch them dance and they'd all be jealous. They'd wonder who he was to be with the most beautiful girl there and then they'd all see that they were in love and they'd be happy for them.

They were in love and tonight would be perfect. It would be everything he'd imagined and they'd laugh and not leave one another's side all night and after the party was over, he'd offer to take her back to where she was staying and she'd maybe blush. When they got up to her door, she'd turn to him and he'd kiss her and they'd go inside…

She was waiting patiently, like she would, talking to some guy next to her. They were laughing and she had her hand on his arm and the guy she was with looked familiar.

Of course, he was Robin, but he had a tux on with his mask—and it looked pretty silly if you thought about it, but since he had that secret identity thing, it sort of made sense in a stupid sort of way. He could see the girl teasing Robin about the mask; pretending she was going to pull it off. The two of them were laughing, and you could tell that he wasn't really mad at her or anything. They looked like they were having a good time together.

The two of them were talking together, their heads leaning towards one another and if you didn't know better you'd think that there was more between them than just friendship.

But he'd read all the magazines and even watched that special series on Entertainment Tonight about superhero romances, and they all insisted that there was nothing going on there. That's what everyone said, anyway, and when Liz Smith cornered them at someplace or other they'd laughed and Robin said something about them all being family and how he didn't believe in incest.

But looking at them now, joking with her hanging on his arm and all…

But it didn't matter. She was almost next to him and she'd look over and see him and then—and then…

Just as she was beside him Robin said something to her to make her turn towards him and smile. The two heroes kept walking and she missed him. She didn't see him there and she didn't see the flowers he'd been holding for her and…

They passed through security and went inside.

She didn't see him and it was all because of that Robin. That damned Robin who said he was just her friend but was probably really planning how he could nail her later. Damned Robin, who had seen him waiting for his girl and made sure that she wouldn't see him, wouldn't know he was waiting for her like they'd planned.

Damn Robin. This was his doing and all he wanted was to do disgusting things to her later, that's all he wanted.

That's what they all wanted from her.

They weren't like him. He just wanted her to know how much he loved her and make her happy. They would be so happy together.

They would.

Damned Robin. It was his fault. If he hadn't been there, she would have looked the other way and seen him waiting for her and—it was all Robin's fault. And he used to think Robin was special—he'd done so much and was so smart and everyone liked him. Robin probably never had to eat lunch alone or sit home all weekend with no one to call or see a movie with.

That was the trouble with these stupid hero people. They wanted you to think they were working for the people, that all they cared about was doing the right thing and making things better for everyone but all they really cared about was being on the cover of magazines and signing autographs and getting awards and being told how special and noble they are. That's what they all wanted, all of them.

Except her.

She was different.

And he knew that Robin was going to make some kind of a move on her, see how far he could go with her. He knew it. They were all alike. All of them—heroes or football players or movie stars—they all thought they were better than everyone else, they all thought the rules didn't apply to them.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

He asked one of the guards how long the dinner would go and was told they usually broke up fairly early; maybe eleven or so since most people had to work in the morning. Then he asked if he could maybe just give his girlfriend the flowers he'd brought her, but the guard wouldn't let him through the gate without an invitation or having his name on the list. The guard wouldn't even promise that he'd see she got them if he left them with one of the security people.

All right, maybe not tonight, but he'd see her, he'd let her know that he felt the same way about her that she felt about him.

He would.

Three weeks went by with the man writing Troia everyday. Sometimes it would be a letter, other days it would be a card or maybe a bouquet of flowers sent to the Titans Tower. He never sent candy, though. He knew girls didn't want to gain weight.

He knew that she got them because once she sent him a thank you note along with a signed picture, a different one than she'd sent before.

He'd even told her that he didn't think that she should be hanging around with the boys who were in that group with her. He knew, even if she didn't, what they really wanted from her. That's all they wanted, that was all any man would want from her. Except him.

And all he wanted to do was make sure nothing like that ever happened to her.

She was better than that.

He kept pretty close track after that, after the thing with the White House and her showing up with Robin. He noticed that she was often hanging around with Robin; almost every picture of her in a magazine or the paper or on the news had him somewhere nearby. Oh, sure, they still insisted, if anyone asked, that they were 'just friends', that they were like brother and sister, but that was what all those celebrities always said and all you had to do was look at the way they leaned against one another or how he'd put his arm around her and you knew.

He knew he had to do something to help her, to warn her and so he wrote her another letter, but in this one he told her what she didn't want to hear. He told her that all those guys just wanted to paw at her and do things to her she'd hate and she couldn't allow that to happen.

He couldn't allow that to happen.

She was meant to be with him. They were meant to be together and that was the way it was.

She was saving herself for him, wasn't she? Of course she was.

Then, about two months after he'd gotten the second signed picture he was called into the manager's office. It seemed that they had been running a routine locker check, the one everyone in the company had to agree to, and they'd found the pictures of Troia stuck up on the inside of the locker door. Now, having pictures of a pretty girl in a man's locker wasn't anything to be concerned about, but these were a bit—much.

They'd have to let him go.

That night he'd been brooding, alone, thinking about what happened and he realized that it was Robin's fault. It had to be. No one else would care if he loved Troia other than his competition and he knew that Robin thought he had a prior claim.

He didn't, of course, but he was the kind of guy he hated. He was the kind of guy who got whatever he wanted. He got whoever he wanted and expected the best all the time. He just knew it. He thought he was better than the poor slobs who just went to work every day to make an honest living. Just because he was famous and people asked him for autographs and everyone made a big fuss over him, it didn't matter; he was still just a horny kid looking to score.

Sure he used to think that Robin was okay. He used to think they might even be friends someday if he got as good at the tae kwon do and karate and learned how to fight the bad guys, but no more.

Now he saw Robin for what he was.

Greedy. Selfish. But the problem was that Troia liked him; they seemed to be friends but maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe she was afraid to make him angry. Maybe she was worried that if he got mad at her then—then he could do almost anything.

That's when he had the idea that he should protect her. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that was what she needed and what he could do for her.

He'd do it. He'd make sure that Robin left her alone.

She'd be grateful and she'd be impressed.

From then on, he looked for a way to carry out his idea.

Everyday he'd look through the papers and search the Internet. He'd subscribed to all the magazines that followed the hero community and read all the gossip columns. He knew it was just a matter of time and, sure enough, he was right. There it was, right in the Chatter section of People. What he was looking for, there it was: Troia had purchased an apartment in a brownstone; her government would own it, but she would have the use of it.

That was all he needed. All he had to do was check the real estate transactions. It showed up a month later, the purchase, the price and the address.

He knew where she lived and it was now just a question of making sure that those horny friends of hers, especially Robin, left her alone and didn't try anything like he just knew they would. He knew it. Boys only had one thing on their minds, all of them.

He found a spot about half way down the block from Troia's place. It was a little neighborhood deli where he could get a Danish and a cup of coffee—which was about all he could afford at this point since he'd been fired, and they didn't mind if he spent hours there reading the paper or writing her letters so long as he bought something.

The best part about the place was that he could see her building from where he sat at 'his' table in the window.

It was perfect.

He stayed there for ten days before it happened. He'd spend all his time at the deli, then go sleep in a room at the Y. It was inexpensive and relatively safe. It was fine.

That was where he'd bought the gun to protect her. Some guy in the next room was selling it cheap and there was no paperwork. It was perfect, small and fit in his pocket.

On the eleventh day, around eight in the evening he saw Troia and that damned Robin walking down the street, headed to the brownstone. They had their arms around each other and were carrying a bag of take out food and they were laughing.

Disgusting. Next they'd be going inside. They'd go upstairs and then he'd try to…

Disgusting.

At the bottom of the half dozen steps were a group of fans who were almost always waiting for his girl to get home. She was wonderful with them, her fans—always took the time to smile and chat with them and sign an autograph and this time she had Robin with her so the groupies were doubly excited.

The two of them stopped to be polite to the young girls and he got up from his table, put on his jacket and walked the half block to where the impromptu signing party was going on.

The girls were looking at Robin, crowding around him and he was just eating it up with a spoon. Oh, sure, he was polite and modest and even kissed one of the girls on the cheek when she said it was her birthday which made Troia laugh and tell him was an incorrigible flirt and he said something about having learned from the best which made her laugh.

After maybe ten minutes of this—and Robin even signed a paper napkin he'd shoved in front of the creep, Robin said something about their dinner getting cold, but thanks for coming. That really mad him mad; that Robin would pretend he didn't know him, that he was just some fan, some stranger after all the letters and notes he'd sent back before he realized how scummy Robin was—just like every teenaged boy, just wanting one thing, always thinking about it, wanting it.

He picked up the bag with the Chinese menu stapled to the outside while Troia got out her door key. One of the girls asked if she was his girlfriend and Robin laughed and said that she was his sister, he didn't have a girlfriend. The girls all giggled at that and a couple of them volunteered for the job. He said something about how he'd think about it, but he smiled as he said it.

They were about to go upstairs and when they got there he knew they'd forget about the stupid Chinese food and he'd try to touch her in her private places.

He had his hand on the gun by then. Robin was only about three feet away. Point blank range.

He pulled the trigger three times and they all hit dead center.

Robin looked surprised before he dropped the food and started to fall. The girls screamed, Troia put her arms around him, lowering him gently to the steps while one of the girls called 911.

The police were there in a minute or two and he let them lead him to the car. He'd seen where the bullets had hit and he was pretty sure they were fatal wounds.

He'd protected her and she'd thank him when all the dust settled and then they'd be together.

She would, she'd be grateful for what he'd done.

2/7/05

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