AN: So I realized that I lied again, this isn't the last chapter of part one. There will actually be at least one other chapter to part one after this one. In case anyone is really curious, between part one and part two there is a rather long time skip of two weeks which will let our fair characters stew in the big events that will happen at the end of the first half of the story. Interested? I hope so. This chapter is one is a long time that barely has any Owlet in it. I wanted to make sure that people weren't just waiting for all the action parts with Owlet, that they were actually caring for Mona as a character as well (an idea that I borrowed from Batman Begins). Don't forget to review or PM me anything that you want to see in Owlet. Like I said earlier, whether or not I can fit it in, I will still write it and still post it. That's all I have to say, please read and review, thanks guys :D Oh and, if you think that I own Batman, you must be, well, let's just say you're something I can't say online because it'd be a bit rude.
Downtime
For a teenage boy on a motorcycle, Robin was a pretty good driver, though a bit of a show off. He'd take sharp turns, jump over things we could've gone around, and speed between cars, just because he could. More than once I actually had to squeeze my eyes closed to save my brain a headache and try to keep my dinner down. I buried my face in Robin's shoulder, holding onto him with a stronger grip. I was dismally reminded I was Owlet as Robin tensed up quite a bit, his muscles becoming rigid and uncomfortable. I sighed inwardly, not in the mood to fight because of the painkiller's way of sapping my energy. For a moment I wished that Robin knew who I actually was, that Owlet and Mona were the same people. I wanted him to comfort me and tell me that it was okay even though it most obviously wasn't. Most of all, though, I wanted him to not be Dick. It didn't seem fair that my best friend would be Boy Wonder and never give me a hint.
"He's not supposed to, Ryder. Secret identity sound familiar?" I sung in my head. I had to hold back a scream as Robin turned with such force that the cycle was almost parallel to the ground. "Are you trying to get us killed?" I asked him out loud, attempting to keep my voice from shrieking.
"Live a little, Owlet. It's just a bike ride!" he cackled back, taking a detour down an alley by using stacked up crates as a ramp, flying over a tall barbed wire and chain link fence. We hit the ground roughly, Robin losing control of the bike for a few moments as it twisted right and left. Soon enough, though, it was back on track, for better or for worse.
"Oh yeah," I said weakly, ready to hurl the small dinner I had eaten hours ago. "This is just a casual bike ride where Boy Wonder is trying to kill me."
"If I wanted to kill you I would've done this." Robin's tone was smug as he sped up to at least 70 on an abandoned road by the piers at Gotham Bay. Fear built up inside me as he drove straight for a pothole, letting it bounce the bike high into the air. I screamed as my butt left the seat, floating what seemed like a whole foot above it before slamming back down. If I hadn't had such a death grip on Robin, I could guarantee I'd be in the dark and dangerous waters of Gotham Bay. Robin gave a loud, harsh laugh to the point where I didn't know if it was a joke or if he really wanted me dead. After that I decided to shut up for the rest of the ride, knowing my mouth would only get me into more trouble.
The remainder of the ride was relatively silent with an occasional comment from Robin about what super-criminal he'd caught at this place, or what helpless child he'd save here. I didn't speak until we drove down the street I had met Robin on as Mona. In a quiet voice I asked "Do anything here?"
And, surprisingly, he answered. "I met a girl here once," was all he said.
"Who was she?" I pressed, wondering what he'd say about me.
"Just another Gotham nobody," he replied. Cold gripped my heart and I scowled to myself. Of course, Mona was nobody to a big time superhero like Robin, the Boy Wonder. Mona was nobody to everyone, why should it be any different with Robin? Because who'd really need a parentless 15 year old kid? That's why Owlet was so precious to me. People would need her, need me, as Owlet to save themselves from their stupidity and insolence regarding the newer and less obvious villains of Gotham.
"Let me off here," I demanded as Robin neared the orphanage, about a block away from where he'd met Mona. The walk back to the orphanage was only a few blocks, and as long as I didn't meet anyone along the way I'd be fine.
"Are you sure?" he asked. I could tell his hero instinct was kicking in because the boy actually sounded worried, about Owlet.
"I'll be fine, Batboy," I grumbled, getting off the motorcycle and giving the helmet back to him. "Thanks for the ride." I walked to the shadows of the building, using the walls and edifices to support me as I walked. My right leg was killing me.
Robin just watched me from his bike and as I turned to glare he had some sort of bewildered look on his face. "If you follow me home, I'll rip your mask off and make you eat it, Boy Wonder."
"Do you want a walking stick or something?" he blurted, immediately looking like he wanted to kick himself.
"Those seem to be in short supply when you're on a motorcycle in the Narrows in the middle of the night," I scoffed, still hobbling along, using the wall as my crutch.
"Here." I heard Robin kick out a stand on his bike, running up behind me. I tensed before I could help it, flinching as he got nearer. "Use this." He held out a pole about 6 inches long.
"I'm not that vertically challenged, Wonder Boy," I said with tired annoyance in my voice. I hadn't meant to switch Boy and Wonder in his usual epithet but the new name had a nice ring to it.
"Amateur," he sighed, pressing a button on the side that must've released some sort of shaft inside the actual tube. It quickly expanded to a staff about 6 feet tall. "It's a collapsible bo staff. I want it back later."
I took it with a tentative grip, surprised he wasn't trying to smack me in the head with it or something. "Uh… thanks again, I guess. Why are you being, well, not quite nice, but… less hostile?"
He looked like he wanted to just leave without answering but he put on a tough face, his hand clenching into a loose fist. "You could've bailed on me anytime at the cemetery, but you didn't, even after how shitty I've been to you. I'm willing to accept the fact that Bats trusts you, but I'm not 100% about you and I'm not sure I ever will be. However, I am willing to make a truce in light of our alliance."
It might've been because it was late or because the painkiller had jumbled my brains, but the most I got out of Robin's formally worded explanation was "Thanks for backing me up, you're not too awful, I still don't trust you." And even though that might've been the extremely dumbed-down version, my drugged-up, pain-filled, barely-conscious self took this as a very massive personal victory.
"Awww! You don't hate me anymore!" I cheered with forced enthusiasm. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Robin, especially since I know how much that must've bruised your ego."
"Sarcasm will get you nowhere, newb. Leave me alone. I have to get some rest before tomorrow." He glared at me, but almost in a friendly way (if that makes any sense, being drugged-up makes your mind much simpler in terms of well, everything).
"But crime never sleeps!" I exclaimed.
"Which is why my name is Robin and not crime," he answered cheekily, getting back onto the motorcycle. "Don't lose my bo staff," he ordered, zooming away before I could even formulate a suitable goodbye.
"Boys," I sighed, hobbling the rest of the way to the orphanage.
By the time I woke up the next morning, my body just somehow knew I was way late. I was about to jump out of bed like some surprised cartoon character when the pain in my leg hit me like a brick wall.
"Owww," I moaned, pulling my sleep shorts up a little to look at the ugly wound. The skin around the cut was a deep purple, almost pure black. The cut itself was enough to make me shudder in repulsion. It was about 3 and a half inches long and I knew it was deep though all I could see was my blood dried into the black thread of the stitches.
"Ew," was all I said, looking at my bedside clock. "Holy insert-appropriate-euphemism here, it's already 9:30?" And indeed it was. I got up, bracing myself against the wall, slipping into a pair of ragged sweatpants on over the pair of shorts, limping pathetically to the door. I walked through the hall to the door. I walked through the hall to the rec room. It was half-full with kids playing lame video games from the 80s and using the broken foosball table in the corner. A broody looking 12 year old stood nearest to me so I headed over to him to find out what was going on.
"Why isn't everyone at school?" I asked. "It's Friday, right?"
He looked at me with analytical eyes. "You look like shit," he commented.
"Gee, thanks. Glad to see chivalry isn't dead. Now answer my question," I growled.
"Jeez, chill. Some of the schools shut down because of the deaths from that concert thing with Scarecrow." He took a better look at me. "Hey, weren't you there that night?"
"None of your business, kid," I said defensively, limping to the kitchen. So school was out, I thought with a slight grin. There must be a god up there. I had absolutely no idea how I'd hide the stitches from Dick while wearing a skirt, for goodness's sake. The kitchen was thankfully empty so I was able to rummage through the refrigerator without interruption. I pulled out an egg salad sandwich that appeared to still be goo and untouched, making it the perfect candidate for my breakfast. I unwrapped it half-way from its plastic wrap, taking a bit and making a face. The sandwich tasted like egg-flavored cardboard, but it was edible so I continued to eat.
I finished my breakfast relatively quickly, returning to my room and locking the door as got the owl suit out. It was in pretty bad shape. The whole right leg was almost covered in blood with a jagged gaping hole at the thigh. I'd patched up the suit once before after I'd accidentally cut myself while slashing Fincher's tires. The area I'd sewed up looked pretty much like a straight line. I could tell it wasn't going to be like that at all this time. But I only sighed, getting to work so I'd get done faster. If I wanted to accomplish my plans for the future the suit would have to be wearable.
My work was over within the hour, and I'll admit, it wasn't the prettiest thing ever sewed, kind of like my leg. However if it'd have to do for now, there was no way I'd go through the final phase of my plan without the suit. I ran it over in my head once more, knowing it was insane but excited for it despite the danger.
"You're not right in the head, Ryder," I muttered, tucking the owl suit under my shirt so I could go through the bathroom without it being seen. I turned to faucet onto warm water and slowly started to rinse the blood from the suit. I looked into the mirror as I worked, seeing dark bags under my eyes and slight traces of bruises along my face and arms. I pulled down the neck of my ragged t-shirt to show my bruised-black left shoulder. Compared to what I'd been through before I didn't really think much of the new wound. It would sting and be sore, but at least it wouldn't kill me. The scratch on my cheek didn't look much different from the day before, only a bit more crusted with brownish blood. I sighed to myself, fatigue creeping into my bones.
"I may not be right in the head," I replied to myself, turning off the faucet and wringing out the suit. "But my head is in the right place." With a little smile I tucked the bundle of wet fabric under my shirt once more, heading back to my room. My timing was horribly off though as another girl came careening down the hall at the same time, smacking her gum loudly and looking at me suspiciously.
"What're you hiding under your shirt?" she asked, crossing her arms and blocking my path.
"None of your business," I told her coolly, trying to sneak past her on the right.
She grabbed my injured shoulder with a vice-like grip, pushing me against the wall. My hands were full with the suit so I couldn't fight back, even as my thigh was slammed into the wall. "What secret have you got, Ryder?" She looked victorious, squeezing my shoulder, knowing that it hurt me. "What have you got in your hands?"
I glared up at the girl, analyzing her with my yellow-brown eyes. She was at least 16, maybe 17 and about 4 inches taller than me. If I dropped the suit I could've easily taken her down, assuming she was untrained. But I was so close to beating Fincher I couldn't let a stupid kid at the orphanage ruin it all for me. I smirked at her as my response came smugly.
"Let's just say during my time of the month some of my undergarments came out a little worse for wear. You want proof?" I acted as if I were pulling the bundle from under my shirt.
"Ew!" the girl squealed. "Sicko!" She let go of my shoulder, shuddering as she made her way back down the hall. I laughed to myself, taking refuge back into my room.
"That was far too close," I commented under my breath with a matching scowl. I locked my door and took out an oversized sweatshirt, laying it flat on my bed. I took the wet owl suit, rolling t up in the sweater, hoping to squeeze the water out to make it dry faster. It might've been easier to throw it into the dryer, but when you had a secret identity to protect, convenience was never really an option.
The soft sound of talking pervaded the still air of my room and caused my head to shoot up at the slight noise. To a normal person it would've been completely unheard, but I prided myself on being an extremely out of the ordinary person. With careful ears I listened again, finding that it was coming from my suitcase. I was there as fast as my leg let me, sorting through my clothes to find my cowl at the bottom under layers of sweaters and pants. Someone was trying to communicate with me through the comms unit in my cowl. Checking the locked door behind me, I slipped the cowl onto my head, becoming Owlet with pajamas on.
"What do you want?" I asked more sharply than I'd intended.
"Geez, snippy much?" Boy Wonder asked.
"Shouldn't you be in school, Batboy?" I replied, putting my clothes neatly back into the suitcase.
"It was cancelled today. I'm sure you're familiar with the news of the passing of Lewis Malton and Rosie Teller?" His voice was a bit clipped as he responded.
"I'm out as well. Funny, maybe we go to the same school, Rob." Immediately my mind flashed to Dick, sitting beside me in Modern History, a smug, devil-may-care grin on his face. I shook the image from my head, praying to God there was no way they were the same person. If they were, Mona only had one friend in Gotham and that's almost as scary as being completely alone in the treacherous city itself.
"Doubt it; they don't let riff-raff into my school." His cold exterior seemed to melt as he spoke making the sentence sound like a joke rather than an actual insult.
"You're a laugh, Boy Blunder." I rolled my eyes. "Now why did you call, er, whatever this is considered?"
"I wanted my bo staff back."
"So?" I said airily. "How am I supposed to get it back to you when we only ever meet by coincidence?"
"Go on patrol or whatever you do out at night, maybe?"
"Pshh, I don't patrol. I wouldn't dare take Batman's thunder. He'd probably do something unspeakably horrible to me."
"Don't be stupid; just meet me where I dropped you off last night. At midnight."
"Boy Wonder, are you asking me on a date!" I laughed at the idea. Robin didn't like either sides of me. He thought Mona was a nobody and that Owlet was a delinquent-ally.
"I just want my bo staff back, amateur," he said sourly.
"You're just angry 'cuz there's no embarrassing nicknames for Owlet," I laughed. "Whereas I have so many choices."
"Are you going to be there?" he pressed, ignoring my last comment.
"Maybe," I said idly. "Maybe not."
"Don't play games, Owlet. I'll see you at midnight." I could hear his comms unit go offline as if he'd hung up on me.
"'Don't play games, Owlet'," I mocked, slipping the cowl off, tucking it lovingly away amongst the t-shirts and socks I kept in my suitcase. "Don't patronize me, Robin."
Since midnight was a long ways away, I decided to actually get dressed and make something of my day. Doing homework was absurdly out of the question. There was no way I could focus on mitosis for Biology or translating an entire novel into Spanish using only my brain and a pencil (and no, I wasn't supposed to jab the pencil into my brain to save me some trouble). I played with the idea of coexisting with my fellow orphans, but that idea was out ruled pretty quickly as well. To my peers at the orphanage, I was an outcast, a weirdo. I thought about visiting with Selina but she'd be at work all day, doing whatever she does to bring cat food money home. That left me once choice: take a walk around the Narrows and hope you don't get jumped.
I thought about bring my utility belt with me, but I didn't want to run the risk of getting caught with it. That would be one helluva jam I didn't want to explain myself out of. I got dressed, taking extra care while slipping on my jeans. They pressed uncomfortably against the stitches but I gritted my teeth, doing my best to ignore the pain. Tried to dress as un-attention grabbing as possible; plain blue jeans, a simple grey V-neck, a black military style jacket, and a really ratty pair of Converse high-tops that looked like they weren't having a particularly good day. I left my room with a wary glance at my suitcase that held my biggest secret before closing the door, heading to the kitchen. I took about a handful of ibuprofen with half a glass of water, hoping the pills would numb the sore pain in my muscles and the uncomfortable pull of the stitches in my line.
Nobody gave me a second glance as I stole my way out of the front door. It felt odd not sneaking through the window at the end of the hall, but I knew with my stitches that'd be pretty hard to do, close to impossible in fact. I resolved that Owlet would have to start using the front door, making my way down the front steps. It was hard to walk normally with my leg, but after a few minutes I fell into a slightly comfortable gait that didn't make me look too injured. Actually, I practically looked normal. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with how I was walking, I might've had to time react to the person coming straight at me from around a corner. We both seemed to have been unfocused on the art of paying attention while walking because we rammed into one another. He stumbled a step or two but due to my weakened condition paired with my naturally unstable balance, I started to fall backwards. His hands were around my waist in an instant, keeping me from hitting the ground. I got over the initial shock long enough to notice who had caught me.
"Fancy seeing you here, Dick," I breathed, still a bit short of breath from being caught by surprise (in two senses of the phrase).
"I was just on my way to see you," he stammered, apparently not expecting to meet me along the way. He looked slightly disconcerted as he held me, head bent down a bit so I could see the expression on his face.
"Why?" I asked, reaching my arms up around his neck so I could steady myself into a standing position. Dick flushed a light pink.
"Just wanted to see if you wanted to do something." He gave a short little nervous laugh as he helped me stand. I cocked an eyebrow as he responded. This didn't seem like the cool, calm, and well, concerted Dick Grayson I'd come to know at school.
"Sounds like fun," I said slowly, wondering where he was going with this. I hoped he didn't expect me to come and study with him. There was only so much Batman and Robin I could take in a short amount of time, especially when Boy Wonder was being so perplexing to Owlet. "What did you have in mind?"
My answer seemed to calm him a bit, thought it was extremely noticeable. His face took on a more silently-assertive confident look and his tensed shoulder returned to normal level. "I was thinking we could grab lunch and just talk. All we ever seem to talk about it recent events and the Dynamic Duo. I feel like I don't even really know you."
I was so touched by the offer I didn't even question why Dick wanted to know more about me. I just gave a shy grin. "I'd like that."
And that's how I ended up at a semi-popular pizza joint downtown with Dick Grayson, being led to a table by an overtired looking waiter. Once we'd sat down he got out his little pen pad, sighing as he asked "What can I get you to drink?"
"A couple of waters will be fine," Dick said, looking to me for an approving nod. The bored waiter took it down, handing us two menus. For a few minutes it was completely silent, and awkwardly so, the two of us just sitting there with our faces hiding behind our menus.
"So…" I said, breaking the ice and the silence with the single drawn out word. Dick gave a short laugh.
"Well, aren't we talkative?" He set down his menu, now leaning back in his booth.
"Here, let's try this again." I closed my eyes, over dramatically exhaling my breath. I was rewarded with a slight chuckle from Dick. I opened them again to see a bemused expression on his face. "Hi! My name is Mona. It's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you as well, Mona. My name is Richard, but I go by Dick." He played along with a grin on his face.
"So where are you from, Dick?" I asked conversationally, saying the first thing that popped into my head.
"Originally I'm from Romania," he answered earnestly. I cocked an eyebrow.
"Really? I didn't know that."
"You never asked, and it's not one of those random things you tell people." Dick rolled his eyes.
"So, can you, like, speak Romanian?" For a moment my voice slipped into a tone that would've been worthy of the label "blonde".
"It's my first language," he replied with a smirk.
"Say something, then," I challenged.
"Ce ai vrea să spun, Mona?" he said in a heartbeat. The only word I understood was my name.
"You didn't just insult me, did you?" My voice took on a suspicious tone.
Dick laughed. "No, I just said 'What do you want me to say, Mona?' Innocuous enough for you?"
"Hey, don't judge. I only know English and a bit of Spanish." I glared at him half-heartedly.
"Ok, let's hear some." For a moment I thought he meant hear some English. I mentally face palmed myself, but was glad I didn't ask for clarification on which language.
"Fine." I bit my lip, thinking of a good response, smiling to myself and finally setting on "El burro sabe mas que tú."
"Meaning?"
"The donkey knows more than you." My grin grew wider as he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
"How mature."
"It was the first thing that came to my head."
"At least now we have a glimpse of what dwells in the inner workings of Mona Ryder's skull."
"You make my brain sound like some dark and intimidating cavern, Grayson."
"Isn't that what it is, though?" He gave an evil grin as I swatted him with my menu.
"Funny, let's hurry up and figure out what we're going to order already." I scowled while he laughed some more. The comment struck me more than he knew, because on some levels, that's almost exactly what my mind was like.
"Ok, ok, fine. How does a supreme sound?"
"What all does it have?"
"Pepperoni, sausage, bell peppers, mushrooms-"
"Ew, no," I interrupted him, making a face.
"What, you don't like mushrooms?"
"No, I'm a vegetarian, Grayson."
"Seriously?" He looked genuinely surprised.
"Yes, seriously."
"For how long?"
"I started when I was about 7."
"What kind of vegetarian?"
"I'm what you'd call a pescetarian. I eat fish and eggs but not red meat or poultry."
"Did you become a vegetarian for health reasons or did your parents make you?"
"Neither. It was for my own moral reasons." Dick looked impressed.
"You don't meet a lot of vegetarians," he stated.
"Especially not in such an American stereotypical city as Gotham." I rolled my eyes, confirming the fact.
"See, we're learning all kinds of new things today and we're not even in school. My favorite color is blue. What's yours?"
"Orange. Favorite holiday meal? Mine used to be tamales on Christmas Eve."
"Alfred makes a kick-ass turkey for Thanksgiving. And why tamales?"
"My mother grew up in Western Texas and the traditional Mexican meal was to have tamales on Christmas Eve so the kids would actually have something to unwrap."
Dick's expression was a priceless, a mix of horror and amusement and confusion all rolled into one.
"That's awful and hilarious all at once," Dick said, cracking a grin.
"And my parents never understood why I found it so funny." I shook my head.
"Ok, back on topic. What are we going to get for lunch?" He looked at me as if ordering this pizza were serious business.
"I usually just get cheese, but if you want other toppings I'm open. You know, as long as it isn't heaping piles of Canadian bacon or anything."
In the end we kept it simple, a cheese pizza to go with our waters. But it was more than enough, for me at least. The simple stuff was so hard to come by these days when I had so many complications in my life. There were complications with school, complications with friends (of the lack thereof), and mostly, complications with my personal life, especially with Dick and Robin and Owlet. I longed for mundane moments like this one where I could let all my stress melt away in this cushy pizza booth but I knew that now that I'd chosen my life as Owlet, those simple and easy moments would become harder and harder to come by. I let a sad smile form on my face as I nodded at something Dick had said, not really listening to what he was telling me.
"So," he started abruptly, taking a drink of water. His forceful sentence opener jolted me from my thoughts. "See Boy Wonder lately?"
I almost choked on the slice of pizza I'd been eating, forcing myself to set it down and swallow. "Not that I recall. What, do you have some preoccupation with him?" I gave Dick and evil smirk.
Dick scoffed, flicking a bit of lint off his shirt sleeve. "Please. I just find it interesting that you claim you can't stand the guy one minute and a few days later you're telling me you kissed him."
"Because I did. Before I met the guy he just seemed like an overconfident jerk of a sidekick, but then I met him. And I'm pleased to say I was wrong. He seems better than that, at least."
Dick cocked an eyebrow. "'Seems better'? What do you mean by that?" he questioned.
"I've only met Robin once, Dick. I don't even know the guy, maybe it was a fluke or I caught him on a good night or something." I shook my head, settling comfortably into the booth.
"People aren't that straightforward without being sincere," Dick protested.
"By straightforward what are you exactly implying here?" I asked lazily.
"I'm talking about an honest guy, the kind that people can trust. I mean, he saves Gotham so much he should expect the citizen's respect."
"Why are you so eager to make Robin look so good?" I asked suspiciously. I couldn't help but recall the moment yesterday in the car where I'd drawn the scary parallel between Dick and Robin.
"It's not like he's got someone to speak on his behalf, and that doesn't seem fair to me," Dick replied. He was good at pretending to tell the truth, which I suspected he did most of the time to freeloaders and reporters, but I could see right through his lie here, even if those bimbos couldn't.
"Fine, you don't have to tell me. I mean, if I was a lonely little orphan with only one friend it'd be different. Oh wait, I am." I put on a pouting face with pooched lips and slightly scowling eyes.
"Just because we're friends doesn't mean you automatically get to know everything about me," Dick snapped, suddenly angry and spiteful. "Is that so hard to understand, Miss Home-Schooled-Till-7th-Grade?"
"Gee, didn't mean to offend you. Maybe if you didn't act like such a haughty rich kid who seems to know something all the time people wouldn't get curious to see if there's actually someone who's borderline pleasant underneath the unappealing exterior. Why don't you save them the trouble and just show everyone the jerk you obviously are? It'd save people a waste of their time they would've used to try and get to know you." I slid out of the booth, ignoring my leg. "I only wish I'd had that chance." I dug for some money in my pocket, throwing a 10 and a few ones on the table to pay for my half of the lunch before storming out of the restaurant, angry and confused tears prickling in my eyes.
I guess this lunch wasn't a total disaster, I thought to myself, rounding a corner too sharply and making my leg twinge in pain. You finally got to see Dick Grayson for what he really is.