BAM! SURPRISE UPDATE!

Haha, well it's long over due.. my bad.. but here it is!

Thanks to my lovely reviewers! (Some who actually kicked my arse into gear.) Sending out apologies and lots of lovely hugs to everyone who has been waiting for this chapter.

H'ok. Nothing super interesting. Obviously, I struggled mega with this chap. Cyborg killed me, so he's probably a little OOC, accidentally. And as always, not super happy with it, but I had to get it up. Lots of mistakes. And a huge big warning, there is some major swearing in this chap. Like, a c word reference. Don't think less of me!

Enjoy!

And please review :)

P.S: Can't promise a quick update. In the midst of performing The Tempest.

Reconcile

Chapter 10: Apologies.

His eyebrows rose faintly as all their gazes landed on him. A sturdy frown replaced the puzzled look a moment later. Who could possibly be standing at the gate of his house at this hour of the morning? He pushed back his chair and stood up. He swiftly turned and made his way to the electronic panel sitting on the wall beside the entrance to kitchen. He never had visitors, well, rarely. It was usually only the ones that bothered to stay in contact; Bruce, Alfred, Wally, Babs or Donna. Warily, he raised a hand and pressed a stern finger down on the intercom button. An image came to life. His jaw dropped and his expression eased into pleasantly surprised.

Victor Stone.

"Vic?" Dick questioned with an edge of disbelief to his tone.

A small smile came to the cyborg's lips. His dark brown orbs gazed into the camera. "Wanna let me in already? It's kinda hot out here," his fuzzy deep voice boomed through the speaker.

Dick returned the grin and moved his finger to another button to the right of the screen. The sound of front gate clunking open could be heard through the speaker before the screen turned to black.

He turned around and was met with beaming grins. Garfield stuffed another spoonful of tofu in his mouth before poking his fork out at Dick and stating matter-of-factly, "I told you."

Dick raised a pragmatic eyebrow, "I don't think you did, Gar."

The green man brushed him off with a waving hand gesture before getting to his feet. "I totally did, but whatever," he tried to hide his grin as went for the entrance.

Koriand'r pranced quickly through the door after Garfield, flashing her behind once more. Dick pursed his lips at the sight. He stumbled slightly as a pointy elbow jabbed itself into his left side. He reached for the area as his head snapped to face the rather short woman casually walking past. She gave him a pathetic look before following out the door.

He grinned, feeling somewhat content. Maybe everything would work out after all.

888

Dick watched as Vic let himself flop onto the couch, making the sofa shift slightly at his sudden weight. The cyborgs movements were easy and heavy, like he remembered. He looked much more normal now. Dick presumed his wife, Sarah had played a role in that. He was no longer bald, he now had dark frizzy hair, shaved quite short, allowing him to maintain it easily. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a grey shirt. He was still big, muscly and well built, but the technology aspect of him seemed much smoother and more advanced, but less flashy than it used to be. Again, he presumed that was thanks to Sarah, who had worked at S.T.A.R labs for several years.

"Jesus, Dick, the place looks like it's hardly been touched," the African American noted, his voice booming as his eyes wondering around the perfectly arranged sitting room. It was perfectly Bruce Wayne decorated, but with a modern twist. It was all white mixed with splashes of glass. Large windows decorated the wall opposite the couches, allowing a beautiful view of the well maintained lush green gardens just outside.

Dick flopped onto the large white leather couch next to him, but still maintained his distance, cautious. "That's because it doesn't," the younger man admitted, earning a frown from his old friend. "I've got another joint in town."

Vic raised his eyebrows in a moment of realisation before nodding a few times. Silence filled the room. It irked itself between the two old team mates. There were a lot of things that had been left unsaid between two, also a lot of things that had been said. A lot of hurtful insults hurled at each other in the heat of the moment. Now, these were the remnants left over, awkward silences, small idle chit chat and consciously cautious words, trying not to stir up bad memories from the past. It would be impossible not to, they both knew it. But who be the one to open old wounds? Who would be the one to begin the tiresome task of trying to patch up their broken relationship?

Dick sighed, only loud enough for himself to hear. He began all of this five years ago. It was him. He caused all these hard feelings between everyone. He made them doubt themselves. He became selfish and insisted they weren't good enough. He should be the man. He needed to be the man. He caused all this pain. He needed to apologise for all of those mistakes he made five years ago.

"Vic," Dick broke the silence with a soft voice, almost a whisper, "I'm sorry." It was short and sweet. His mind couldn't comprehend anything else. All he knew was that he was sorry. There were no excuses anymore. He had been enormously arrogant and pig headed. He had been the biggest prick in the entire world. Actually, the word cunt seemed more appropriate. At the time he didn't think that, but now, five years later, he was paying the price, serverely.

Victor scoffed as a smile came to his lips. The former team leader could see the creases in his cheeks caused by the smile. It was genuine. "Never thought I'd live to see the day Dick Grayson apologise."

I

"Vic!" the teen, only slightly younger than him, called after him. "Get back here!"

He was poised perfectly in the middle of the towers lounge room, in between the sofa and the kitchen, facing the double doors leading to the hall. He was ready for a fight. His blood was pumping with adrenaline, angry and agitated that they had lost to a reoccurring villain only minutes before. His shoulders and arms were tense and firm. His eyes narrowed to slits. He needed to settle this right now. He needed to assert his authority, and quickly.

The large bionic man spun around quickly, the anger flaring in his features. He was already half way up the stair case. "Don't fucking tell me what to do," he warned in a low and menacing growl.

"I'm you're leader, Vic," Dick reminded him, trying to match his low toned growl. "You listen to me."

"Oh cause that worked so well 10 minutes ago!" Cyborg shouted sarcastically as a furious, contorted scowl now played on his face.

"I couldn't see you doing any better," Dick shouted back, fuming. His fists clenched into balls and the stance of his feet widened subconsciously. He felt like a kid, shouting stupid comments in a useless fight in the middle of nowhere. But this robot needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

Victor, furiously built up with rage, began his slow descent down the stairs. He was ready for violence. Anyone in his way would get a taste of his cantankerous mood with a metal fist to the nose, cheek or eye, probably all three if he concentrated enough. His eye narrowed as his movements were calm and controlled. He could feel the frustration pumping through him. All he wanted to do was knock the bird boys lights out.

"Boys! You need to stop!" Kori injected from the kitchen, quickly heading towards Dick and stepping slightly in front of him. Her brows were furrowed as she kept her stance strongly and womanly. "This isn't going to get us anywhere!" Her high female voice only irritated the two men more.

"Stay out of this, Star," Dick warned coldly; brushing his sight over her before landing his orbs back on Victor. She looked at him, slightly shocked. She couldn't believe he was behaving in such a way. She knew he had an ego, but this idiotic name calling was beyond Dick; beyond the both of them really. Dick usually listened to her, or at least took on board what she was saying. Now he was treating her with hostility before pretty much ignoring her.

"You're an ignorant little fuck, you know that?" Victor lashed out, venom dripping from his words. He was already at the base of the stairs.

"I could same the same for you," Dick spat, leaning forward, his stance ready for a fist fight.

"Cut the crap, Dick, you need stop thinking you're better than everyone else, cause you're not," the Cyborg snarled with lightning speed, his face contorting angrily with every vowel and consonant. "Your head's way too far up your fucking arse to give a shit about what happens around you." He was getting closer. Only a few metres distance between them.

"Cyborg!" Kori exclaimed, astonished at the language escaping their mouths.

"No it's true," Dick defended his 'friend's' comments, still not taking his eyes from Cyborg to acknowledge Kori. "I can't keep picking up slack for the rest of the team. You're too slow. Your aim's off. You're not powerful enough. You're inadequate," The newly costume hero retorted with malice.

"Richard," the alien princess spun around, delivering a disgusted expression to her more than friend. She quickly flicked her head back to face Cyborg. "This is idiocy. You two are fighting merely because we lost to-"

She felt the cool metal of Victor's upper arm push her aside; she stumbled slightly to her left. Her jaw dropped, completely and utterly appalled at the behaviour of Victor. He had pushed her out of the way.

"Alright then," Victor smiled wickedly as only a few centre metres parted the two 'friends'. "Nightwing," he spat out, "you think you're better than me?" He questioned in a snarling growl. "Prove it."

Koriand'r turned, not prepared to watch two of her dearest friends engage in a useless fist fight. She swallowed, feeling her throat tighten. She could feel the floor beneath her vibrate as a sound of a thump and heavy grunt reached her ears from behind her. She had a feeling the team wouldn't last much longer.

I

Dick's guilt was too intense for him to even think about smiling. He remembered that fight all too well. It resulted in a black eye, a broken and a few bruised limbs. His face seemed to sink even lower. "All the shit I said… I can't believe I said-" Dick fumbled his words, trying to cram five years of reflected feelings into some sort of understandable speech. He stopped mid-sentence, trying to gather his thoughts. He expected the large dark skinned man to butt in, but he didn't.

He looked to his ex-team mate. His eyes darted over the darker man's features, looking for a response of some sort. A sombre and thoughtful expression decorated the cyborg's face, multiple creases rippling his forehead and his brows pressed downwards. His attention quickly flicked to Dick. "There was a lot of shit said," he agreed, his tone neutral and very calm. "A few punch ups too, if I remember correctly." His expression was still solemn and serious.

Dick was a little unsure to where he was going with all of this. He wasn't sure if the Cyborg was still mauling over this whole situation in his mind. It was like he was solving it by picking it apart aloud. He presumed the robot hadn't revisited these thoughts and feelings for a while until the team spontaneously turned up on the door step of his family home. "Yeah," Dick agreed, turning his attention to the large windows opposite, gazing at the lush garden outside.

That silence came back. It was a little less awkward this time, but more suspenseful. He obviously hadn't spoken to Victor in five years and wasn't quite sure what to expect to come out of his mouth. His sense of straightforwardness wasn't lost judging by yesterday's events. He was unsure if the tin man was still angry, guilty, ashamed, or accepting. The emotions he was expressing were unclear, and much more serene than Dick knew him to be.

Victor shrugged, confirming to Dick that he had accepted what happened between them all. "After five years of brooding, you'd think I'd be able to say more than that," Dick could sense the sudden light heartedness to his tone. His lip was tugged into a slight smile.

Dick turned his sight line back to the cyborg. He was indeed, expressing a small saddened smile. "I'd like to think so," Dick admitted truthfully. There was no point in lying, if they were start again on a fresh slate.

The sombre look dropped back onto the African Americans face. "I was pissed Dick," he stated, surprisingly. It seemed to be rolling out of him now. He was finding a way to express how he felt without anger, which was very unlike him, Dick noted. "I said a lot of hurtful things," He frowned, as if remembering. "Some of them I regret.. some of them, truthfully, I don't."

Dick's expression flashed confusion for a moment. The straight forwardness was slightly jolting, but he reminded himself that this is what he liked about Cyborg. He spoke his mind and it was all to your face.

"I was selfish and so were you. We wanted the same things, but had different ways of going about it," he paused, his eyebrows rising slightly, "Well that's sugar coating it, but it's close enough," he admitted with a slightly amused, but almost awkward chuckle.

"I don't regret that the team split up," he revealed aloud, which surprised himself, by the flash of a startled expression crossing his features. His robotic fingers twitched slightly, before clenching. He was reluctant to continue for a reason. He had no reason to lie to Dick, so why was he hesitant? "I got a new life, I've got a wife and a kid on the way," he shrugged, relaxing into himself. "But I do regret losing five of my closest friends."

Dick felt that little pang. He had been feeling that a lot lately. He wasn't sure if all this reuniting was the right thing to do, but it seemed to be easing his conscious. "I'd like to think a lot has changed in five years," the robotic man slid closer across the white leather to Dick. "We've both grown, Dick. We've changed."

Dick lowered his eyebrows into a thoughtful and self-loathing frown. "I'm not sure if it was for the better," he mumbled out.

Vic shoved him with a metal elbow. "Lighten up Dick," the African American smiled. "You have to learn to forgive others," the smile still played on his lips, "and yourself."

The infectious smile caught Dick unaware. He flashed his pearly whites for a moment before speaking, "you weren't so keen yesterday."

"Sarah's got a way with words," he chuckled deeply again, earning a bigger smile from his younger friend. "Like I said, I've been brooding for five years; I think that's long enough."

"Thanks Cy," he spoke tenderly, using the old nickname. "It means a lot."

"I can't promise you'll I'll stay, but I'm here for now." He slapped a hand across Dick's back in a loving manly gesture.

"I missed you, Vic," Dick admitted softly, but with a blokey touch.

"I missed you too, Dick," Victor gave him a wink before adding sarcastically, "and your spikey hair."

Dick chuckled, getting to his feet. "Unfortunately, you won't be seeing that ever again," he rolled his eyes as he motioned to his now silky smooth black locks that were little longer in length than they used to be five years ago.

"What a shame."

888

He coughed, once, twice, several times. He could feel the blood pooling in his mouth, licking at the edges of his gums and between the cracks in his teeth. He could feel it leaking out the side of his lip and down his chin, slowly dripping on to the pavement below. Another grunt escaped him as he could feel the metal rod crash into his ribs for the umpteenth time. He was pretty sure he had three broken ribs by now. But it didn't matter. He just wanted it to be over. It was painful at first, but he was numb now. He could hardly feel it, except the occasional forceful hit. It was like he was on morphine, he could feel it happening to his body, but he just couldn't feel the pain. He knew it should have been pulsating through his whole body, searing hot and agonizing. But it just wasn't there. He was thankful he couldn't feel it, but he would eventually deal with it at a later point in time. If he even made it out alive.

He was expecting another hit, but it didn't come. He held a shallow breath for a moment, still waiting. It had stopped, for now. Finally, he sighed to himself. A break. Relief washed over him as he heard the metal crow bar clatter to the ground, signally his attacker had finished. His muscles relaxed. It felt like they were melting away from him. He had been tensing so hard for that whole time; the release in pressure was almost euphoric. He could feel a small throb in his right side. Probably his three broken ribs.

A hand gripped tightly onto his blood infested mop of blonde hair. It peeled his face off of the cement. He winced, the pain flooding back suddenly. His face contorted and a hopeless yelp escaped his lips as the full force of agonizing pain hit his body. The tension in his muscles had been masking the pain, and now that his muscles were relaxed, the full explosion of pain was more than he could bear. He could feel pain pulsating in his lower chest, making it hard to breath. He could feel it shooting down his lower left leg. He could feel it throbbing in his right hand. But his face.. his face was still numb. His heart quickened. Why couldn't he feel his face?

"Next time," the voice warned with a hoarse growl in his exposed ear. "Don't stick your nose into other people's business kid."

The hand released its grip and his face smashed painfully back into the pavement. He still couldn't feel his face. He sucked in a breath and instantly regretted it. A stab of pain twisted into his side, painful enough to make a sigh escape his lips and send him into a coughing fit. Blood exploded form his mouth and spattered across the pavement. Tears pricked his eyes as he struggled to inhale a small amount of oxygen.

There was movement again. Not the kind he expected. They were footsteps, and they were fading. Finally, his attacker was leaving. It was over finally. Finally.

He managed to suck in a small breath; just enough to soften his coughing without causing massive twisting stabs of pain. The mini celebration was stopped halfway. Yeah, it was over. But what now? He was stuck, half battered to death in an alley behind a bottle-o and a strip club. Who the fuck would find him? Fuck, who would find him and bother to save him?

Panic.

Shit. Shit. Fuck. Cunt. Fuck. His breath quickened and small jabs of pain stabbed constantly in his side. The tears were streaming down his face, he had only released now that he had been crying. Had he been crying that whole time? What the fuck was he going to do? He could hardly keep his eyes open and all he could see was fucking cement. How the fuck was he supposed to get himself some medical attention? The pain in his side worsened, equalling in a distressed yelp.

Calm down, he reminded himself. He needed to get his breathing under control if he was going to even think about moving.

Okay, he began his inner pep talk. Just push yourself up. It'll be fine. Gingerly, his muscles tensed, causing a minor tremor of pain to echo through his body. He attempted to use his arms to lift his upper body. The endeavour was short lived. Pain pierced his side excruciatingly. A cry ripped from his throat as his body collapsed back onto the pavement.

He could only pray that today wouldn't be his last.

I

The dark haired woman swallowed. "I didn't.. I didn't mean to pry," she struggled to push out the words. The images were way too vivid for her to simply brush over or forget. They were so real. It was almost as if she was there.

He looked down, shifting his gaze to the floorboards beneath them. "It's alright," he mumbled in his deep tone. His right hand began to fidget a little. "I didn't exactly want to let that out on a first date," his expression lightened into a half-hearted smile.

The same discombobulated face stayed on her features. "What happened to him?" she questioned, still sticking to her solemn expression.

His eyes turned to slits as his body slightly turned away from her. "I think you already know," he whispered, before looking back at her darkly.

Her eyebrows knitted into a frown as a wet tongue slid over her bottom lip nervously. "I want to hear it from you."

His lip twitched slightly as he turned back to her. "I killed him," he stated blankly. "Luckily for him, he received a quick death," he paused, unsure whether to mention his last thought, "a bullet to the temple."

Her gaze dropped and her hands gathered together in her lap. She was thinking, rather deeply. Her frown softened into something almost angelic. "That's how it all started."

His eyes wondered over her delicate face, solemn and angelic. He was searching for something. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was forgiveness? Who knows? But he would know it when he saw it. Her thoughtful look continued. He pressed on, still searching, waiting for her to change. But it never came.

His jaw tensed as did his muscles. He needed to move, or do something. He didn't need another know-it-all to be explaining to him his own actions in the past; he'd already had enough of those growing up. He rose to his feet and something cold gripped his hand.

He looked down. It was there. That look he was searching for. Somewhere between empathy, forgiveness, faith and angelic. Her purple eyes shone, exposing the most extensive range of emotions she had ever revealed before. It was perfect, beautiful and everything that he needed.

In an instant she was gone. Everything around him was gone. Utterly confused, he spun around before freezing mid motion.

Before him stood a most hideous, terrifying and absolutely shell shocking image. He was perched on a high cliff overlooking a giant sea sized pit of sulphurous fire roared and ravaged just at his foot fall. Tall fire-destroyed towers peaked in the distance and explosions of fire and gasses blasted one after the other, never ending. The sky was a reflection of the ground, a large swirl of various oranges and reds, occasionally a blob of black. He could feel the heat on his skin, so intense, so dry and so hot. He blinked, feeling his eyes lose their sense of moistness.

His mouth gaped at the sight. He knew what he was looking at. He was looking at the fiery pits of hell. He was looking at Azarath, well, what was left of it. She was sharing a memory.