Author's Note: I was surfing the net when I remembered Fanfiction. My god, I thought. Have I really left it this long? So I decided it was time to write the sequel I have been promising for a while now. I hope you enjoy it, and if you haven't read the first one, here's the link: (+fanfiction address) s/9550027/1/Destined-The-beginning
Thanks for everything, and feel free to review!
Chapter One
"Come on June..." Dick muttered to himself, trying to keep hold of two styrofoam cups of coffee with numb hands. The autumn wind blustered through Gotham; with it came threatening black clouds promising a rainy future. He was considering scurrying back inside the rundown cafe, when June turned around the corner. He grinned and held up the drinks for her to observe.
"Is that coffee I see?" She asked, taking the cup offered to her. Her accent was English, specific to South Yorkshire; something 'the dream' Dick was recently in missed out on. He shivered at the thought of the disastrous experience.
"Yeah. Not your favourite?"
"No," she shook her head, then smiled. "But thank you."
Dick shrugged, trying to not look disappointed.
"It's okay. Let's walk."
Once they got into a steady strolling pace, June asked the question which had been bothering her since he had first approached her on the bench.
"When you first spoke to me, you said I should know who you were," she looked him the eye. "I've been thinking: I do recognize you. I had some, er, dreams a while back, and you were in them." And in the visions, she thought. She cleared her throat before she could say anything.
"What happened, er, um-" She paused.
"Dick." He offered.
"Dick. What happened which made you know me the way you seem to?"
He looked away and swallowed.
"I was put under a... well, Bruce called it Fantasy 127. It was, effectively, a dream, in which a drug was used to make me fall for, er, someone... and it was so he could see how I act under the influence of drugs. It backfired... But it all felt so real..." He trailed off.
"Don't let the press find out." June said in a stage whisper. He chuckled.
"I'm surprised no-one's following us; Bruce must have us covered." Despite having left home, his adopted father still felt obliged to watch over him.
"Touch wood." She muttered.
"What?"
"Oh, just a phrase my Grandma used to use. It's the equivalent of solving a jinx." She explained.
"Oh," was all Dick could think of to say. He took a sip f his coffee; June did the same, trying unsuccessfully to hide her grimace at the taste.
"Tea's more my thing." She mumbled.
"I'll make a note." He said. They smiled at each other, just as the first drops of rain began to fall.
"The English weather follows me even here." She sighed.
"Well, this is hardly the place to come to if you're wanting sunshine and rainbows." He laughed.
"Some of my patients'd disagree."
"Patients?"
"Yeah. I'm a counselor. In fact, I've got a doctorate in psychology. But you wouldn't know, 'cause I don't seem to have aged in twenty years." June said; Dick glanced at her. She looked as though she were telling the truth.
"How old are you?" He queried. She shrugged, unsure of whether to trust this man. He was the son of Bruce Wayne, but if he was anything like him, he'd be paying her after this. She blinked. Yes, I do know this man, she thought. The name Dick Grayson surfaced from her dreams. Realizing he was still waiting for her reply, she shook her head and laughed.
"Never ask that of a woman on your first date." He raised an eyebrow, a sly grin slipping onto his face.
"This is a date?" He asked innocently. She shrugged again.
"Don't push your luck, Grayson."
He stopped, flashbacks swimming through his mind.
"You remember." He said without question. Her eyes drifted to the floor and stayed there. She appeared to be concentrating.
"It's coming back to me." She said quietly. Then she suddenly brightened and their conversation went back to normal.
"Rain's getting heavier. Would you like to come back to my place for a nice cup of tea?" She offered; he shook his head.
"No, thanks. Coffee's more my thing." He replied with a wink.
