A/N: Sorry it's so short! RER
CHAPTER TWO
our darkest night
Three years ago…
CORNELIA CARLILE PLACES A few more bullets into her gun as she kneels down behind a wall. The previous day, war was declared on Gotham by the Bloods. The conditions have already gotten so bad that the FBI have been called in. Commissioner Gordon and even the Batman can't seem to keep the citizens' moral up. But if they can't do anything, what hope does she have? If anything, she figures she might be able to help Batman and Gordon catch Charles Starvin, but she doubts she can catch him on her own.
Biting down on her lower lip, she digs out her communicator that can patch her through to any of the Bats. She hooks it into her ear, looking around to make sure her fellow FBI members are still surrounding the building. "Batman, you there?"
Bruce's gruff 'bat-voice' responds. "What is it, Agent Carlile?"
"How far away are you from the docks?" she whispers into the communicator.
"It's going to be a little longer," he replies. She can hear a faint battle in the background. "The Joker and several other villains have escaped from prison."
"Is Nightwing available?"
"He should be rounding up Poison Ivy at the moment."
She sighs. "Then we're going in."
"Agent Carlile, don't. I will be there as soon as I can, but until then—"
"I can't," she stresses through gritted teeth, "With every passing second, there's a chance that Starvin and his Bloods could get away. I can't take that chance. My team and I are going in now."
She takes the communicator out of her ear and places it back in her pocket. She looks to her team and gives them a nod, raising her gun. She leads them into the warehouse, but no one is inside. She keeps her gun ready in her hand, holding a flashlight in the other. The moon's light barely shines through the halfway shut windows near the roof of the building. She raises her hand that holds the flashlight and her team comes to a halt. She doesn't move, instead her eyes dart around. Something isn't right. The doors to the warehouse slam shut. She whirls around, her team looking around as well. In the background, she can hear the faint beeping.
"It's a trap!" she yells, though she knows it's too late. There is the click of several locks and she knows that most of them won't make it out alive. She takes her communicator out and puts it back in her ear. She hears several team members call her name and looks to see what they have found. There are four bombs, all set to go off within a few moment. "Batman? You there?"
"We're almost there, Agent Carlile."
"Don't bother. It's a trap. The Bloods are probably gone by now. You won't make it in time. There's a bomb." There is a silence on the other end. She makes sure to speak before he can. She keeps her voice quiet, so only he can hear her. "Take care of my boys, Bruce. Tell them I love them. Tell them everything's going to be alright, because it will be. Take care of them. Take care of yourself too. I love you."
"Cornelia—"
His next words don't reach her as the beeping etches itself into her ears. She wonders if she'll ever stop hearing that beeping, even in the afterlife. She wonders what's in the afterlife. If there is a Heaven, she hopes she has a place there. She prays Dustin and Trent will forgive her. She takes out the locket she always wore around her neck and opens it up. The last thing she sees is a picture of her two sons before the bombs explode and her life is cut short.
Dustin Carlile watches as his mother's casket is lowered into a grave. He is dressed in a nice black suit that he doesn't own, just like his younger brother, Trent Carlile. They were gifts from the Waynes, friends of his mother. Trent stands in front of him, clutching his hand. Bruce Wayne is standing by his side. Behind him are Tim Drake and Dick Grayson. He bites down hard on his lower lip, his teeth cutting into his lips. His eyes are tightly shut and his shoulders are slightly shaking as he tries to keep himself from crying. His mother, the strongest and toughest woman he has ever known, is gone. He is only fifteen, without a father, and his mother has just been ripped from him. He considers Bruce a father-figure, but to him no one can ever replace his mother.
The teenager's grip on his six year old brother's hand tightens, causing the boy to look up at him. His brother's eyes are red and his cheeks are tear stained. Dustin kneels down and wraps his arms around the small boy, pulling him close. He feels Trent burry his face against his shoulder and cry some more. He presses his face against the child's smooth, dark brown hair. A hand goes on his shoulder and he looks to see Bruce.
"I am so sorry," the man says, despite knowing the boys have already heard those words way too many times. "If only Batman had gotten there sooner…" Bruce glances away, obviously blaming himself. It is his fault, in his mind. He hadn't gotten there in time.
Dustin sniffles, blinking away a few tears. "Not Batman's fault," he replies, his voice quiet and cracking. Bruce, Dick, and Tim look at him. Why doesn't he blame them? They had been unable to save his mom. "He's not God. He can't be everywhere. He can't save everyone. Sh-she knew the risks that came with her job. I knew that there was a chance that one day, she wouldn't come home… Everything happens for a reason, right? It… It was her time to go…"
Richard kneels down and picks Trent up in his arms. The child clings to him as he carries him back to the car. Bruce gives Tim a look and the teenager nods before going to catch up with Dick and Trent. Dustin stares at his mother's casket sitting in a hole in the ground. A ring of blue roses sit on top of the sleek black casket. White roses litter the hole, having been tossed in as people left. He doesn't notice as Bruce kneels down next to him. Strong arms wrap around him and pull him close. His body shakes as he finally gives in, clutching onto Bruce and crying.