Author's Note: Really short chapter. Just setting things up and working on Nightwing. I've been having a hard time with his character. Robin is absolutely adorable and I wanted to include his characteristics but I really don't want to destroy him or Nightwing. Bear with me as I struggle through that awkward illness that is not wanting to misportray a fictional character. As always please REVEIW and enjoy. P.S. dear readers it's my birthday and this is what I chose to do with my time. You should feel luck ;).
Chapter 9
1st Person POV
I'm a prisoner. I've never been a prisoner, not really. S.H.E.I.L.D. was a guardian, granted a very strict slightly unwanted guardian, but never a warden. I was allowed to leave. Even in that stupid run down jail cell there was no doubt in my mind that I could leave whenever I wanted. Here I am not allowed to leave. Not only that but they watch me. This is one thing I know: I am no hero to them. But I find myself asking "If I'm not a hero? Why should I act like one?" And this scares me.
"I want to go outside." Nightwing looks up from his work in the central room. I can see the twitch of a playful smile on his lips. Dammit. I never win when he gets this look. It's been nearly a month and he still doesn't trust me or believe that I'm a good guy. The funny thing is, Nightwing is a lot like a nun. He thinks that I'm a criminal but also that he can save me. Too bad Spidey already took care of that.
"NO" I groan and stomp my foot. There is no doubt in my mind that I look like a child but I DON"T CARE.
"The air is stale in here. If I don't go outside soon I'll suffocate and die." His face twists into a frown. As if my words hurt him. No that's stupid. I'm pretty self-absorbed I guess. Nightwing slowly gets up from his place at the computer and stalks over to me. I gulp, uncomfortable with his hunt like advance. He stops mere inches from me.
"No dying." His command is soft and gentle. I find myself wanting to lean into his voice. Did I just think that out loud? My skin jumps at the shock of cold metal encasing my wrist. Great again with the handcuffs. The chain clangs and I wait for him to clasp the other cuff on my free hand. He doesn't. Instead I'm met with our hands connected by the chain. One of his. One of mine. Well this is new.
Nightwing leads me out into the docking bay. He presses his palm against a sensor on the wall. The hanger door whirs to life, lowering to let in real fresh air. I breathe deep. I breathe like I'll never breathe again. Nightwing chuckles at my dramatics. I am so weird with him, but he seems to like this girl. This silly, awkward, dramatic, girl. Imagine if he knew the real me. I feel the tug of metal on flesh as he shuffles me outside.
The first and last thing I see is green. I've never seen so many trees. Growing up in New York there isn't much foliage. I can barely stand it. I want to touch them; smell them; climb them. Wild energy courses through me. Wind rushes over my skin. In this moment I don't feel like a prisoner. I feel freer than a bird. My only tether is the warm boy connected to my arm.
3rd Person POV
Keeping his guard up has failed miserably for Nightwing. She's too close and too comfortable to be a villain. Maybe she really is good. Maybe he just needs to believe that, so he can stay close to her. What is wrong with him? This is probably the point where Wally would call him a dog. He is. He really is.
Nightwing turns back to the screen. It's been a month since the 'storm'. There is crazy and then there's Dick Grayson crazy. The second one more often works out. Even though he has no leads and not enough information to bring it to the league, he feels that he's on to something. He also feels that their mysterious new house mate is smack dab in the middle of it.
3 weeks earlier
"What do you mean, 'you don't think it was a storm'?" Artemis asked. "Of course it was a storm. There was thunder and lighting and a power outage". The blonde growls internally at the hot blush in her cheeks. There could've been a tornado that day and they wouldn't have noticed. All she noticed was Wally's soft red hair between her fingers and tender kisses. Oh god. She needs to stop.
"Did you look outside at all that day?" He can see right through her can't he? "It wasn't like a storm. There was this black cloud that looked like dust. People reported things falling from the sky. Whole buildings disappeared. I've never seen anything like it and then all these people start showing up. There has to be a correlation. Right?" Artemis' eyes flickered to the ground. She wants to believe him. She knows he needs her to believe but it just seems like too far a reach, even for him. He can see the doubt in her eyes. The cold calm demeanor he's been working at for a year falls over him. Nightwing is not Robin. It's time to let go of this. "Good job with Black Spider, but next time make sure that you brief someone before leaving."
Her heart is heavy. Sometimes she wonders where the light of their team went. Just because he wears a different suit doesn't mean he has to be a different person. The door bangs shut behind her.
Now
She's not freaking here. It's been nearly a month. Spiderman's asked every stupid brainless goon in here if they've seen a short girl with short light brown hair who kind of looks like she wants to set you on fire. Apparently that's every girl in here. He needs to get out of here. And soon. Orange is really not his color and he does NOT belong here. He just thought that he had a real chance of finding Nyx. There are no words to describe how much he needs to know she's okay, even if she is still the Shadow. Ice junior heads his direction. Great. Of all of the villains to get obsessed with him it's this moron. Most annoying dude ever. Even more than Flash. Okay maybe not more than Flash but close. Very close.
"Dude. What are you doing over here? Come sit with the crew." Parker looks for an escape but seeing none, reluctantly he drags himself over to Jr.'s table. Snuggly nestled between two of the biggest guys he's ever seen, and the foulest smelling, Peter groans inwardly. Yeah he really needs to get out of here. There is only about a hundred things standing between him and freedom. How hard can it be?
