RATING: M for Mature (blood, gore, violence, seduction– because I don't think I'll be writing any full-on smut, mentions of violent crimes– murder, rape, etc., mentions of abuse, occasional cursing)
NOTE: This is a Nightwing/Raven story from the 2003 cartoon. If I include other respective love interests, they will not be having any present romance with the two mains. If at any time it sounds like I'm slandering them, I'm really sorry. I don't mean to do it intentionally; and, if it is intentional I will post a warning beforehand.
NOTE 2: Here's another more graphic chapter. I'm sorry if any of my writing sounds desensitized by such horrors. Larger TRIGGER WARNING for violence, blood, and gore.
NOTE 3: I have no interest in the upcoming Titans show, but I feel it's really important to remember Raven and her actress are underage (14) and shipping children with adults is disgusting.
DISCLAIMER: You already know.
" When we quarrel, how we wish we had been blameless. "
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Just drive."
Raven sat with closed eyes in her car. Her mind was commending her for doing the right thing, but her heart was trying to find the quickest route back to the house.
"You need to get away from this," she whispered to herself, "Just leave and start over. You've done it before, you can do it again."
"You always did think too much, both in fighting and in life."
She finally opened her eyes to see Sebastian Blood putting on his seat belt next to her. The man who helped turned her into a beast, teaching her a majority of what she knew. He looked exactly as he died. His clothes had small vertical cuts around his abdomen and his stomach, a gift from when she stabbed him. The front of his body was almost entirely covered in wet blood. He didn't have any hair anymore, and his body was mostly made up of scabs and burnt skin.
"You're not really here. You're dead."
He scoffed, "No thanks to you, Number 1318." He rested his hands on the back of his head. "Although it is a little ironic that you're deserting your boyfriend for killing someone, with your count being so high. You were a lot of things, dearie. Hypocrite wasn't one of them," he eyed her with a knowing smirk, "He knows what you did. The minute he says something to you, you run?"
"He knows that's not why I'm leaving."
"Does he? Is that what you keep telling yourself, 1318?" he tapped his chin in thought, "Or are you forgetting that you killed people too?"
"I was forced to kill. Dick chose to."
He scoffed, "You think intent matters to the one with the knife in their back?" He rubbed his burnt fingers together, the sound of flaky skin being very upsetting for her. "That's a reach. You're both still murderers."
Raven scowled, "Well he wouldn't've made that choice if it hadn't been for me. I was influencing him without even trying. It's my fault."
Sebastian laughed– at least it looked like he was laughing, she couldn't tell because when he smiled there were no teeth to stop the blood. "You must really think highly of yourself, dearie," he said, "You think you have that much power over what he, or anybody else, does?"
"If he hadn't met me…"
"Yada yada yada," he mocked, "Now you're just sitting here in your garage, feeling sorry for yourself and talking to a dead guy."
She reasoned, "If I get out now, he'll have a chance for a normal life," more to herself than to him.
"As normal a life could be for killers," Sebastian reminded her. "You're both pretty fucked up, 1318," he said, "you might as well be fucked up and happy together."
She muttered under her breath, "And what if I don't deserve to be happy?"
"'Deserve' is a funny word, huh," he said, "Does anybody really 'deserve' anything? Everybody does good things and shitty things at least once in their lives, but what does anyone really deserve?" He shoved her shoulder, "You're on the train to hell, dearie. Might as well be happy before the final stop."
Raven first noticed Dick's shoes were still on the mat by the door; she was expecting to trip on them again. Then, she noticed the half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on the coffee table, next to a coaster. Finally, she saw a majority of the items from his satchel spread on the desk.
"Dick," she called out, "I think we should talk. Now."
As an answer, she heard the sound of the toilet flushing.
Nervously, she picked up the bottle and started searching for a glass of her of her own. "I shouldn't've run out like that," she said as she poured, "It was hypocritical and immature."
The water faucet turned off and the door opened.
"It just freaked me out," she admitted, "And I wasn't thinking straight. But you have to know–" She turned around, finding that she was staring down a pistol's silencer.
The man standing in front of her was clearly nervous, shaking from his toes to his hair. He avoided looking in her eyes as he held the weapon at her. It wouldn't take much for Raven to remove the weapon as well as snap his neck.
Raven raised her hands, feigning the look of someone who didn't know any better. "What's going on?"
"Y-you're gonna c-come with me."
Oh, this poor child.
"Why?" she pretended, "Who are you? Where's my fiancé?"
"I'm–I'm not gonna repeat myself!" he made a moving gesture with the weapon. He moved out of the way, expecting her to walk towards him. Clearly, he had no idea what he was doing.
Raven nodded slowly and followed his direction. She only had to keep playing the feebleminded act for a little while longer. She waited until he was behind her to stop moving altogether. His gun was pressing against her back.
"What the–What the hell are you waiting for?"
"This." Raven turned so the side of the gun was parallel to her back. She wrapped her hand around his and used her free hand to grip his neck. She pushed him down and forced him on the floor. With his arm under her armpit, she reached and removed the gun.
To keep him on the floor, she pressed her knee to his chest. She placed the gun on his forehead and removed the safety, "I believe I had a few questions you failed to answer."
Dick was hanging from the ceiling by handcuffed wrists. It was probably the first thing he noticed when he came-to.
All he could remember was chugging alcohol at night, staring at online photo albums, when he heard a knock at the door. He thought it was Raven forgetting something since she did leave her key behind.
Then it became an in-and-out blur. He was slowly remembering the other times he regained consciousness that night.
The first time, he was in a van with a sack over his head. He got a few punches and kicks in before he was knocked out. The second time, he was briefly conscious to see four or five men in pinstripes suit circling around him. It was like if Agent Smith from The Matrix suddenly decided to shop at Ralph Lauren. As far as fantasies went, this was not one of his.
This time, it was just him and two pinstripe suits. One was lounging in a plastic chair with his feet on a table and a gun in his hand. Another was just leering around Dick with a creepy smile and dirty glasses.
"Welcome back."
"That implies that I've been here already. And, I'd like to believe I'd remember your handsome face," Dick said, despite the fact that he was in no way, shape, or form supposed to be comfortable enough to sound flirtatious.
Glasses gave a sly smile, "As long as you cooperate, Mr. Grayson, you should be out in no time."
"Why take me here if you're so eager for me to leave?"
The gun guy was snickering along with glasses. "You're here because… well, let's just say you're here until your no longer useless to us," he said. So much for villainous, revealing monologue.
The lights started flickering above them. This allowed Dick to see that he was actually in some kind of empty barn. He could only touch the straw-covered ground with his open toes. There were a few windows, but he couldn't recognize the landscape outside. There were no computers and the men were carrying satphones. So, he was truly in the middle of nowhere.
"Are you not worried about me seeing your faces?"
"We're not worried, are we, Ocelot?" guns commented.
Ocelot walked over and pressed a knife against Dick's chest, "We want you to remember us," using the knife to play with the buttons until he cut off enough thread. He continued to do this until his shirt was open.
"How else are we going to extend our word?" the other man said.
"You mean the word of 'Scath'?" Dick asked, feeling more exposed than he would've liked.
"Yes. Are you sure you haven't been here before?"
"No, but I've seen your goons before, hanging out in the park," he answered, "You guys are extremely aggressive in spreading your message. I almost feel sorry about what happened after."
Something in the other man's smile fractured. "Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?"
The first time since being in the barn, Dick kept a conscious straight face. The light flickering for the umpteenth time didn't even make him blink.
Ocelot pulled Dick by his open shirt, the movement harshly pulling at the wrist restraints. "I asked you a fucking question," he said. When he still didn't reply, he made a quick slash on his stomach in anger. That didn't get a reply either, so the angry man slashed at his sternum.
"Ocelot, don't," the other man wrapped an arm around his partner's neck, forcing the knife from his hand.
The cuts weren't deep enough to make anyone worry, but it sure as hell wasn't comfortable. Having been let go, Dick was back at his original hanging position. He looked up. The red marks on his wrists were now wounds, blood slowly moving down his arms.
Grison wrapped an arm around his neck, forced the knife from his hand, and pulled him away.
Dick was back into his resting position, but he felt a sting around his nose and he tasted blood dropping on his lips.
"Let me go, Grison!" Ocelot tried fighting the other man.
Grison shook his partner in his grip. "Enough. You're wasting your energy." He leaned closer with a whisper,"You and your friends weren't hired to play with this pretty boy."
Ocelot spat, "If he did something to–"
The lights turned off completely. If this were any other situation, Dick would make a joke about the dramatic coincidence. He could barely see the outlines of his captors, let alone a possible escape route.
"It's probably nothing. The generator will come on eventually."
They waited at least a minute, and nothing happened.
"What did your people do now?"
"My people? We didn't do shit. This is what we get for choosing to have an abduction in a fucking barn!"
"If that's true, call them right now."
"Call one of the guys!"
"I can't see the phone in the dark, you stupid fuck!"
The lights finally turn back on.
"Ocelot!"
The man being called let out a sigh of relief, "See, one of my people probably knows what's going on." When he turned around he expected to see someone behind him.
"Ocelot!"
The two men turned to see a woman with frazzled hair on the floor. She was dragging her body across the straw, or at least trying to with only one hand. Her other hand was trying to contain the wound on the front. The jacket of her suit was less pinstripe and more blood.
Ocelot took a step to help her and the lights shut down.
As if right out of a slasher movie, Tamarin was missing when the lights turned back on a minute later. The bulbs resumed its usual flickering. But, with each flicker, they heard overlapping screams surrounding the barn.
Grison pulled out his gun, removed the safety, "It's time."
On cue, a window broke. A body was halfway inside the barn, impaled by the shards of glass. It was Tamarin.
Her mouth was gaping; the blood flow allowed them to see her tongue was almost completely cut off. As they moved closer, so they got a clearer view of her older wounds. Especially the enormously round cut on her stomach. Both long and small intestine were hanging out of the wound.
Ocelot grimaced, "We're not scared of you, you sick fuck!" and continued to let out a stream of curses.
Then, there was the sound of a body crashing through the roof. However, the body didn't land. Ocelot looked up and noticed a dead body was now hanging from a fan blade, comically spinning in a circle.
Grison stood by Dick, like a bodyguard protecting a celebrity, while Ocelot continued screaming at no one.
"Whoever you are, if you don't give up now, I swear we will–"
He didn't get the chance to finish as someone quickly kicked him in the head, the toes of a boot pressing hard into his temple. Before he could get up, he felt someone's knee jamming against his nose, putting him down once more.
"Raven!"
For the umpteenth time that night, Raven was facing down another gun pointed at her chest. "I don't know who you are, but–"
"Don't worry about me," Grison said. His eyes lingered towards which thigh he was going to shoot, "I won't kill you, but if you give yourself up–"
Insulted enough, Raven grabbed the top of the gun with gloved hands, pushing on the gun in the direction towards his chest. Because his hands were bent at an uncomfortable angle, he let it go. She took the moment to pull the gun downwards and take it from him.
With a large growl, he charged. He pushed her shoulders against the wall. His forearm pressed against her neck, making it harder to breathe. He smiled at her body writhing beneath his grip.
Raven wasn't so easily contained. To remove his forearm off her neck, she used her fingers to break his cheekbones. Simultaneously, she used her other hand to push his elbow in a downward motion. The same hand that broke his cheekbones grabbed his nose, and she jammed his head against the wall. She kicked him in the groin two or three times for good measure. Once the man was down on his knees clutching his injured genitals, she swiftly gripped his throat and twisted his neck. Then, she pulled off the keys around his neck.
To think, she was holding back.
She walked over to where Dick was hanging out, unlocking his restraints. "On a scale of 1-10, how much pain are you feeling?" she asked once he was finally on his feet. She was about to put his arm around her, but felt her body pulled backwards, causing Dick to lose his balance.
Someone, presumably Ocelot, was holding her arms behind her. She was already mentally scolding herself for not making sure the other guy was dead. Raven stepped backwards before she twisted her body in the opposite direction. This movement freed her left arm. Her right arm gripped his elbow towards his body. She then used both arms charging into his body, grabbing him by the thighs, and pushing him to the ground. Once he was on the ground, she stood above him with her boot on his chest.
"Nice suit," Raven snarled. She pulled out a pistol of her own, "Who hired you? Was it Slade?"
"Who the fuck is Slade? You're gonna pay for this, you fucking c–"
She stomped on his chest, most definitely breaking his ribs. As he was spitting blood out, she straddled his chest and held a knife to his chin, repeating her questions.
"I don't know who Slade is!"
"Clearly," Raven pressed the blade of her knife into his skin. "Answer me this: who hired you?"
"Grison– or whatever the fuck his real name is– he hired us," he was frantically pointing at one of the corpses.
"How do you know who I am?"
"I just got an alert for a job," He sputtered, "We were just supposed to get you. They said no killing, but do whatever it takes to get you."
"Does anyone else know about your assignment?"
"I don't know! Okay? I told you everything!"
"Well, you have been very informative," she sighed, before making a clean cut on his neck. She got off, and his hands immediately went to the wound spurting blood. While he was trying to cover it up, Raven took the opportunity to clean her knife with his jacket. She stood over him until he took his final breath.
She looked over her shoulder, "Robin, are you okay?" When he didn't answer, she quickly ran to where she left him earlier. He looked like he was sleeping, besides the small pool of blood coming from his head.
"Dick!"
Dick's eyes slowly opened, only to have the light immediately force him to squint. He searched back and forth to see walls of wood replaced with concrete. What used to be a flickering light was now blinding and fluorescent.
"You need to rest, Richard," Bruce said when he tried to sit up, "You'll ruin your stitches."
"Where am I?"
"Gotham General."
Was he closer to home all this time? "How did I get here?"
"Ambulance picked you and Raven up from the side of the road."
Raven!
He almost sat up again, "Where is she? Is she okay?"
Bruce pushed him against the bed, "She's okay. Right now, we just need to worry about you."
He nodded, feeling more reassured. But the nerves came back when he realized Bruce was staring at him.
"Why didn't you tell me what's going on?" He paused for a moment to give Dick a chance to answer, "Why didn't you tell me about Raven?"
Dick felt compelled to spill everything. However, he didn't know exactly how much of the truth was revealed. "It wasn't my secret to tell," was the best response he could come up with that wasn't a lie.
"I understand that," Bruce said, "I understand keeping her past hidden, because you're worried how we'd react if we found out she was a prisoner in a cult. But the part where you two get into a mugging at the park? If you had told me, or at least called the police, those guys wouldn't've come back to hurt you a second time. What if, instead of just you, Raven got really hurt too?"
Her ears must've been burning, for she walked into the room. Raven was wearing different clothes, so she must've had time to go home. There was a smaller Band-Aid on her eyebrow and a few bigger ones on her arms.
"How are you?" she asked, handing Bruce a cup of hospital coffee.
There was no emotion on her face because it was all in her eyes. "As well as anyone can be in a hospital," Dick answered. Based on his Raven-translating skills, he could see quite obviously she was feeling guilty.
Bruce, reading the room, looked between them, "I'm going to let your brothers know you're up," he turned to Raven, "Are you staying with him again?" He gestured to the messy cot near the wall.
"I'm sure his family would rather stay and keep an eye on him."
Bruce almost made a comment about how she was family, but noticed the tension between the couple. Instead, he awkwardly pat Raven on the shoulder. "Make sure he doesn't try getting up. I'll be back with the boys," he said before he left.
"What did you tell them happened?" Dick asked once the door closed.
She put a finger up to stop him from saying more; then, she smoothly nodded her head towards the camera by the door.
Raven started pouring water into a cup. "I know you didn't – wouldn't tell him about the 'mugging'. So, as far as they know, we ran into the same guys," she said, "We just didn't know they were in Slade's cult trying to abduct us…twice. Some people already know about the mugging, so that won't be hard to corroborate." She put a straw in and handed it to him.
"The 'muggers'?" he asked in between sips, "And, the barn?"
"The police think they're on the run. The police want us to help with a sketch, but the trauma most likely 'suppressed' those memories." She dabbed at stray drops on the side of his mouth, "The barn is a non-issue, and that's all I can say about that. The less you know, the safer you are."
"That seems to be a common theme with you," he said a little loudly.
For a few seconds, she looked taken aback. He couldn't blame her. He'd never spoken to her with any degree of malice – it was uncomfortable for him too. She didn't seem hurt by it, accepting if anything.
"How'd you know where to find me?" he asked.
"Someone was in the house."
He looked even more confused, "When were you in the house?"
Raven didn't answer, just fluffed his pillow, "They weren't after you."
"Who's they?"
"I'm not sure," she said. This was the first time she looked at him since. And, for the first time ever, Dick saw hopelessness in her eyes.
They sat in silence for a long time. She was sitting by his side on the bed, but they weren't touching. Her back was too him so he couldn't see what she was thinking about. What was usually a comfort zone for them had now turned into a hostile environment.
"I didn't leave the garage," Raven broke the silence, "I shouldn't have left in the first place."
"Maybe," he said, "When you told me everything, I didn't."
"No, you didn't."
"So then why did you?" The angry part of him wanted to ask how they were supposedly different: her killing to survive and him killing to protect. Who was she to be so judgmental about it?
Good thing he wasn't always driven by the angry part of himself.
"We won't have this conversation until you're better," she said, clearly unwilling to say more.
They sat in more silence, agonizingly doing so.
Raven finally got to her feet, "I'm going to leave," she was still facing away from him.
"Okay," Dick said. His fingers clenched around the sheets. He hesitated a moment before finally deciding, "You can stay at the house, if you want. I'll be staying with Bruce while I'm recovering."
She didn't respond, almost as if she didn't hear him.
He gripped her wrist and pulled her closer. Now, she had no choice but to look at him. "We will talk about this Raven. You, at least, owe me some answers."
Her gaze flickered between his face and the gauze wrapped around his wrist before she nodded. Gently, she pulled her own hand out and walked towards the door. She wasn't aware that Dick could see her hand levitating over the door handle, like she didn't know if she could actually open the door. It was like she was forcing herself when she walked out.
His hands immediately went to his face, trying to ignore her voice talking to a nurse on the other side of the door. His lower lip was bleeding, biting it so he couldn't ask her to stay.