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Chapter: 45
Darren paced back and forth along the grassy grounds behind Wayne Manor. The sun shone brightly overhead, contrasting Darren's deposition as he wrung out his hands repeatedly with his shoulders tense trying to right his agitated mind. He replayed what happened over and over again, what he did last night and moments ago with Dick. It was as if he had an out of body experience as if he acted based on something else entirely.
Last night Darren acted on a baser instinct to protect, but to the point that he didn't know whom he was protecting and from what exactly. When he saw Dick for the first time, it was his anger that drove him to lash out so physically…while that was not his intention, it was brought on by everything that happened—seeing that Owl at the gala, Joker's attack, Dick being taken away, being forced away from someone he cared about, being told to do nothing when he could have done everything, what Jason said, what Darren himself said—up to that point.
It was wrong…Darren knew it and he felt no better after what happened…he could feel that guilt swirling restlessly within him behind that metaphorical glass, eager to break free and overwhelm him. Usually, it was harder to discern which emotion was fighting to break free, and sometimes Darren wondered what controlled how the 'glass broke' to let such a specific emotion or combination of emotions free. Darren sometimes wondered if it was himself that let the 'glass' shatter in such a way. Internalizing his apathy was Darren's doing, he created that understanding of how he shoved everything he felt away as a means to protect himself. Perhaps he also sometimes broke it because he wanted to feel things even if they became unbearable. Maybe that was wishful thinking, maybe it was true. Darren didn't know which he preferred. Being somewhat in control or not knowing what allowed such emotional overloads.
With a sigh, Darren fell back against the grass arms splayed out and stared up at the sky. Willing some distraction to appear. Darren wished he'd thought to take his sketchbook with him, but knew he wouldn't find any inspiration at the moment. He'd more than likely tear out the pages and destroy the binding instead.
Darren felt weird. Ever since he woke up from being killed by Livia, everything had been off. He didn't know if it was just because of her breaking his neck or because of everything else on top of what she did. Despite his reservations regarding her actions Darren still wished she were there, maybe she could help him make sense of himself. But again his thoughts drifted to the fact that he should feel angry that Livia snapped his neck. Darren wanted to feel that way… but there were other emotions he was too preoccupied with to feel anything regarding what she did. Should Darren be angry at Livia? The sound of his neck snapping echoed in his ears, making him wince…yes, he was upset…but he also understood why she did it. He didn't know what to make of her actions or his own.
Darren sighed once more, forcing himself not to think of Livia or Dick. Instead, he focused on the sky, trying to find strange patterns or images in the clouds drifting by lazily up above. Moments later, Darren on the cusp of sleep heard footsteps sounding across the grass, causing him to stiffen in anticipation. He tilted his head back to see Tim making his way across to him,
"I didn't mean to do that," Darren monotoned as soon as Tim was close enough to hear him. Tim frowned, pursing his lips,
"I didn't say anything," he stated simply,
"You were going to," Darren muttered as Tim slumped down to the ground, crossing his legs under him, by Darren's head. Darren made no move to sit up or look at Tim…worried about what his friend thought of his actions; he, after all, was the one who brought Darren to see Dick,
"I was going to ask if you were okay," Tim nonchalantly replied as if trying to disguise his obvious prying,
"When am I ever okay?" Darren questioned, scowling up at the deep blue sky. Tim clucked his tongue,
"Clearly you're not okay. Usually, you're all: 'I'm fine,'" Tim said, sloppily imitating Darren's voice, "And then demand we leave you alone,"
"I don't know what happened. I don't know why I did what I did or why I said what I said. It was like I was an entirely different person…I don't understand it," Darren muttered shaking his head roughly, the grass scratching his cheeks gently as he did so,
"It's the first time you weren't the victim," Tim replied, his voice soft, "It's the first time someone close to you was the victim instead…it's one of the first times you saw someone as a victim and not a target. It's understandable you experienced a little agitation and a bit of cognitive dissonance." Darren tilted his head slightly to the side, throwing Tim a look of disbelief,
"I threatened to kill Jason…and I…I attacked Dick while he was injured,"
"You were angry and upset. Jason was stopping you from helping someone you cared about…and Dick put himself in danger when you felt he didn't have to. Dick scared you," Tim shrugged, "Besides, everyone's threatened to kill Jason at one point or another. It's like a right of passage by this point," Tim's attempt at humor fell short, though the effort was acknowledged. There was a break in conversation and Tim quietly stated into the silence, as if almost unsure he should bring anything up entirely,
"Though you were both saying pretty cruel things to one another last night," Darren grimaced then, remembering what Jason had snarled to him and what he had hissed back in return. Their verbal battle serving different purposes but ultimately reopening even deeper wounds. Perhaps at the moment, it made sense for Darren to behave that way, but now…it felt wrong. That fact twisted in his gut uncomfortably,
"I'm sorry," Darren mumbled after a moment or two of silence,
"What?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion,
"I'm sorry…I was cruel to you too,"
"I appreciate that," Tim stated, albeit a little surprised Darren was actually apologizing at all, "But I didn't exactly handle that situation well either. It all happened too fast, with too little time to react or plan…and you were furious…you were scared, perhaps you didn't register it as that, but you were. You were furious and scared for Dick. I could have said many other things that would have made you see my perspective on the situation…and understand what else was at stake other than Dick's safety, but I didn't." Darren nodded silently, a frown on his face,
"He could have died…and I don't think I could have taken that, after everyone else who has left me…after those I killed…I couldn't let Dick be another person I failed in some way. I never saw anyone hurt like that, in the bed with machines all around and IV drips while I was healthy and a Talon…I just snapped. I didn't know how to handle it; I just got so angry,"
"How do you think we feel when you've been injured, Darren?" Tim questioned, a dry smirk on his face. Darren shifted up onto his hand twisting around to look back at Tim with wide eyes,
"Is that really how everyone else feels? When I'm hurt?" Darren asked astonished,
"Yes. Do you really think we lie about that?"
"No…I just…I dunno," he finished lamely, rubbing at the back of his neck. He didn't know what to think about that; he didn't really know what to think about anything at the moment,
"You just never had anyone care about you that much before huh?" Tim finished for him, an odd note in his voice that Darren chose to ignore,
"Yeah…I guess not," Darren sighed, crossing his legs underneath him now facing Tim. Not even Asher, the only other kid in The Nest that he could describe on his best friend would particularly care if he had been killed in some way shape or form. They hadn't been raised to care about anything or anyone at all. To them, there should be nothing to care about but the mission and their loyalty to the Owls.
The memory was concerning, but less so compared to the realization that Darren had not thought about his friend in a long time. Guilt resurfaced once more, Darren should remember Asher more than he did. Honor him with a more memorable death than that which the Court of Owls would ever give him, Darren had been the cause of his death. Darren then wondered how much he had actually cared for Asher…did he really care about him as much as he did Tim? Or Stephanie? Or Damian? He didn't know…he tried not to think about The Nest; it brought nothing but bitter and terrible memories despite whatever friendship he and Asher had,
"You might want to call Livia when you get the chance…she felt terrible about snapping your neck like that," Tim stated after yet another momentary pause in the conversation. Darren grimaced remembering the feeling of his neck being suddenly forced around against his own volition, "Barbara said you didn't seem too upset about that, only really about Dick's condition and getting the hell out of the hospital. You…you're not mad at her are you?" Darren thought for a moment before shrugging,
"No…I mean, I don't think I'm completely mad at her. I know she did it to help me, and it's good that she did it when she did. I would have killed Jason otherwise,"
"But?" Tim prompted, sensing there was more to what Darren truly thought,
"But…I don't like her having that potential power—that control—over me,"
"She'd never hold that over you. Come on Darren, you know her better than that," Tim stated, slightly protective…Livia was his friend after all,
"I know…I do know that. It just, it reminds me of—never mind," Darren broke off, not wanting to finish the thought,
"Who does it remind you of?" Tim questioned, Darren glared at him, and Tim rolled his eyes, before sighing, "You can trust me, Darren." Darren remained silent before letting out a defeated sigh. Tim would try and figure it out on his own no matter what, and Darren didn't have the energy to deal with Tim's curiosity at the moment,
"It reminds me of Sophie," Darren growled, knowing Tim would remember the last time he had mentioned Sophie, right after Darren had killed her,
"Is that why you killed her?" Tim asked, genuinely curious,
"No. She asked me to," Darren stated, "Perhaps I wanted to kill her, but I mainly did it because she told me to do so,"
"Why did you hate her so much yet took her life only when she asked you to…not beforehand?" Tim wondered out loud,
"Sophie and I were…very close, in The Nest. We may have been at odds, but it was a different world then," Darren said mutedly, looking anywhere else but at Tim,
"Wait…you…you were together. As in, together together?" Tim questioned, astonishment and confusion in his tone,
"It wasn't a good relationship…she—she was blackmailing me," Darren answered shortly, not wanting to go into any more detail than that,
"Wait, what was she blackmailing you with?" Darren was quiet for a moment, wondering if he should really tell Tim the truth. Bringing up his self-harm while in The Nest would put it to the forefront of Tim's mind, and Darren preferred pretending that Tim didn't know anything about that dark and painful time in his life. Finally, after Tim's inquisitive stare burned enough holes in Darren, he sighed,
"She discovered that I cut myself…she threatened to tell William. But…but, of course, she didn't need to, ha, because he already knew!" Darren bit out, curling his hands into fists his nails biting numbly into his palms. Tim blinked, mouth falling open slightly,
"Wait…so, so that's why you were so intent on keeping it a secret. You thought we'd use your self-harm against you like Sophie did," Darren didn't respond, only looked down at his hands resisting the urge to tuck his covered arms against his chest, "Darren, you know we'd never do that to you…right?" Tim continued.
Darren remained silent. He didn't want to lie and say that he believed they wouldn't use his secrets against him for sure, but he also didn't want to offend his friend,
"I—I…it's complicated. I know you wouldn't do anything, but that doesn't erase the fact that it happened in the past. It's hard for me to trust people to keep their word…especially because I don't know how William knew. Sophie could have told him despite our fucked up deal," Darren pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. Silence followed that revelation, Tim probably processing what Darren said,
"Canary says Sophie's one of the reasons I have trust issues…and that she's one of the reasons I'm so repulsed by physical contact," Darren piped up, unsure of the quiet between them. He didn't know why he revealed that, but it felt almost like unburdening himself by saying it all right then and there, "Well, Shepard and William are the biggest reasons for all that, but she does contribute to it all…everyone in the Nest does to some degree. The people…the environment…how we lived."
Darren was rambling, but he didn't know what else to say or do, their conversation had turned a very dark corner. One he wished never happened and never affected him as much as it seemed to at present,
"Wait…did, did Sophie ever—?" Tim started, heading down an even darker road. One that Canary had descended all those months ago in therapy,
"—No," Darren cut him off, "It was toxic for sure and stupid…but it never got to that point, at least not entirely," Tim didn't seem to like that vague answer, but it was the truth. The lines were very blurred in the Nest, and Darren didn't really care about much of anything or anyone back then to recognize what lines had been crossed…or at least that's what he told himself,
"You know Livia wouldn't do that to you; she wouldn't use her powers on you like that or hold them over you…as a means of control. You know Livia,"
"I know that…I do, but it hits too close to when something was used against me. I don't really know how I truly feel about that, I don't know how to explain it to her, and I don't know if I can. I don't know how to trust a magic that I have no defense against."
Tim stared at Darren as if wishing he could say something on Livia's behalf, to make it better for the two of them but ultimately realized that he couldn't mediate in such a way. Not when it was up to the two of them, both Livia and Darren, to decide where they stood. It was clear Tim was conflicted, wanting to defend his friend and support his surrogate brother, but also knew it wasn't his obstacle to face,
"Right…right I understand. The past can be haunting, especially when it has the potential to repeat in the future. Just…maybe try to talk to her, see how you feel then," Darren nodded mutely, tearing apart a piece of grass between his fingers…trying to hide their slight shaking through the mindless action,
"I—I'm sorry…I didn't come out here to make you think of the Nest," Tim murmured after a moment or two of unrestful quiet, watching Darren tear up more clumps of grass in slight agitation, "I wanted to…help you I guess. I know you are struggling with what happened with the Court and just now with Dick,"
"It's okay…I; I am feeling more like myself now than before to be perfectly honest. I was just spiraling…I have been for a while and this just, everything that happened, just set me off in more ways than one,"
"Well, I'm glad you're feeling more like yourself. I think maybe it's time you tried again," Tim stated, standing and nodding towards the Manor, "Dick really wants to see you,"
"He does?" Darren questioned softly, in slight disbelief, surprised that Dick would ever want to see him again after his reaction the first time.
Tim said no more, only grinned and started toward the Manor, Darren reluctantly scrambling to his feet to hurry after him. Questions and objections on the tip of his tongue even though he desperately needed to speak with Dick as well…and regardless of the realization that Dick actually wanted to see him. The past may be painful, and it may cause demons to resurface, but Darren was beginning to see that those who really mattered and cared would look past that darkness no matter how deep it ran.
Quiet dread enveloped Darren as he followed Tim into Wayne Manor and up the stairs, wondering if Dick really did want to see him or was just saying as such to force Darren out in the open. Immediately Darren shook away such vile thoughts; Dick would never do that. Dick wasn't the master Talons…he was Darren's cousin and despite what the past said, if he wanted to see Darren, that's what he meant. He wasn't like William who would do many different things to draw Darren out into the open when he was in trouble…and Darren had been in trouble a lot when he was younger.
Darren had only been five years old; he didn't understand what was happening other than his mother was dead and these strangers were trying to make him do…things. Many things he didn't like, things that made him tired and sore, things that made him hurt others, things that made him hurt himself…many many things that his mother would never make him do. So Darren would hide, he would try and disappear so they couldn't find him, to make it harder for them to teach him all these terrible things. It turned out hiding was the worst thing he could have done. Hiding just made everything worse for Darren. Terrified as he was, Darren learned. Darren learned to fight, to hurt, to kill…he learned it all. Every method, every technique, every skill…everything the Court wanted to force into his skull, Darren learned. By force of survival, Darren learned to hide his emotions, not himself. He learned how to push everything away…but that emotional neglect always came with a cost in the end.
Lies were spewed and spread to keep Darren's actual living quarters a secret—and it was made very clear what would happen to him if he even tried to explain what really went on in his life to anyone. The Powers were not the guardians he'd expected; he thought they would be different than the Talons he was forced to follow. But the Powers were a part of them, members of the Owls that the young novices whispered about in the darkened halls of Harbor House. The first time Darren tried to hug Lydia out of comfort resulted in a harsh slap and being locked in a closet for the rest of the day. Eventually, Darren learned, he learned no one was going to help him. So Darren helped himself, protected himself through alliances and trades and various other forms of deceit with or against other Talons and Talons-to-be. Even those transactions did mostly nothing for Darren; assassins were all mischievous afterall—no one really helped apart from Calvin, and now he was gone. But then Dick came along, the Bats too, and everything changed. Darren only hoped he hadn't just destroyed it all entirely by his recent actions.
The bedroom felt cold to Darren as he, at Tim's insistence, pushed open the door to Dick's room. Or maybe Darren himself just felt cold, iced over…completely rigid and unsettled…as if he could break at any second. Agitation arched through Darren like electricity, worrying about what Dick might say, making everything seem slightly out of focus—slightly less real. By force of habit, Darren pushed that away, he couldn't go in feeling terrible like he had before—even if his past actions had been caused by an extreme breakdown hours in the making.
Everything seemed different as if Darren saw the room in a different light with a different perspective. The room was bright—Darren hadn't noticed that the curtains had been drawn closed when he first came to visit, as if Dick had insisted they'd be opened so he could keep an eye out for Darren's pacing form on the Manor's grounds. The machines still beeped steadily, all connected as they had been—not pulled out or disrupted by Darren's misguided aggression—which was a relief. Everything appeared unmoved as if everything was reset from Darren's disruptive introduction. The chair had been righted, and the sheets were pressed down, tucked around Dick's body as if nothing had happened. The only change Darren could detect was the added bruise just on the edge of Dick's jaw, a glaring reminder of what Darren had done. Though despite the new bruised addition, Dick himself was peacefully asleep. His face devoid of any discomfort or worry. A nice restful sleep, that fact eased a bit of the tension spreading woefully across Darren's shoulders. In the time it took Tim to talk Darren into coming back up to visit Dick, it seemed his cousin had fallen asleep.
Darren stood behind the chair, a hand clutching the back of it tightly…threatening to tear through the polyester like it was tissue paper…unsure of what to do,
"You can stay," Tim stated from behind. Darren whipped around to face his friend, shock on his face,
"I—I can?" he questioned. Tim looked as if he were refraining from rolling his eyes,
"Yes. You can. Despite your previous actions, you can stay. Red Watches are in place, and you do need to do your share of them." Tim said it wryly like it was a matter of fact. But it was jarring to Darren who never experienced this side of a Red Watch. And from his times being injured Darren knew how impactful Red Watch could be on those who stood by, ready for anything that happened to the injured. It was also an unpleasant reminder of what happened to Dick as well as an unsettling realization that Darren would have to sit by and listen to the monitors, the steady rise and fall of Dick's chest and take part in what can be a life-threatening situation. Of course, Dick's injuries were not as severe as Darren's had been—as far as Darren knew at least—so that risk was minimal…but it was still slightly horrifying,
"Right," Darren stated quietly, eyes looked on Dick's chest slowly rising and falling, "I-I'll stay. I just need, need to grab something from my room,"
"Right," Tim replied, nodding, as Darren passed, clapping a gently hand on his shoulder, "I'll stay here until you get back, just…no weapons." Darren threw Tim an appalled look over his shoulder,
"I wasn't—,"
"—I was joking! Never mind—just go," Tim muttered, waving a hand at Darren as he continued on his way, shaking his head.
Hours later Darren sat in the chair by Dick's bed, his sketchbook on his knee, the leg propped up on the arm of the chair. He hadn't moved since he returned with the book, ignoring others saying it was their time to sit with Dick for Red Watch and ignoring inquiries by Alfred about taking a break to eat. Despite the gentle ache of hunger, Darren wouldn't budge. He wanted to be there when Dick woke up like he should have been the first time. Darren wanted to hear what Dick had to say and he wanted to say what was on his mind.
In the past twenty-four hours, so much had swirled through his mind. Memories, moments he thought he'd forgotten, pieces of his capture by the Court of Owls, moments with William, pain, desperation, things he thought he'd stored away for good. Talking about Sophie hadn't helped, what Livia had done to him didn't help, and his conflicted feelings regarding her actions didn't help. Darren wanted to scream and yell as everything washed over him, flooding his mind with antagonizing thoughts, echoes of the past and emotions. His anger being the most prominent and overbearing—the most distinguishable—of everything Darren was feeling. But he couldn't do that. Darren couldn't let himself lose control like that. His carefully crafted control was crumbling even more than before. The barely constructed shambles of dominance over his unruly emotions were withering away to nothing, he could feel it.
Violence was the only thing he was used to; there had been nothing else for so long…the collected facade he surrounded himself with was breaking—though it had never truly been concrete before, it had held against some of the most trying times since he first broke from the Court. Darren needed to do something…something to thwart the restless energy urging him to punish those responsible. Something to push back the relentless thoughts telling him the Joker and anyone like him must pay for what they do to Gotham on the daily. The whispers hissed at him that the Powers need to suffer for what they did to him, and the quiet and desperate voice told him the Court of Owls needed to fall…they needed to be destroyed. Everyone, every one of them needed to tremble and cower as he took his revenge.
So Darren drew. He didn't stop, not for a second. Darren let his mind go as he used his hands to create rather than to hurt or destroy. Filling pages upon pages in that book, going through pencil after pencil, charcoal pastel after charcoal pastel, until his hands were covered in black smudges. Darren couldn't escape the malignant thoughts or desires, but perhaps he could cast them out. Put them down on paper as a release…a way to rescue his drowning mind. Perhaps by drawing, by getting the thoughts and memories out of his head, Darren could reframe the events in his mind into something less substantial. Something rendered to an image instead of physical memory. Perhaps then he could stop the effect these echoes of the past, moments of pain, fears, and irrationalities—imagined or not—had on him. Maybe this wouldn't work like Canary said it might, perhaps the possibility of freeing his mind through art was a lie…but the promise of that liberation pushed him forward.
The sun was dipping low on the horizon, and Darren suppressed a yawn as he shook out his right hand—the current hand he was using to draw as he shifted from one to the other as they tired out—feeling the hours that past wearing down on him. Though he was rendered unconscious by his neck being snapped, it did not mean he was actually asleep and well rested by any means. Sedatives also made him quite groggy despite their sole purpose being to keep their user asleep. In fact, his neck was quite stiff from being snapped not once, but twice the night before.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dick's hand twitched, and Darren froze mid-yawn his hand tightening around the charcoal piece he was currently holding, unsure of what to do as Dick let out a muffled groan blinking his eyes open carefully,
"Dare…are, are—," Dick started, squinting as if he couldn't quite see right—which he probably couldn't, his eye was still swollen shut, "Are you drawing?" Dick managed to sputter out, surprise clear on his expression. Darren hunched over his sketchbook as if trying to hide it from view,
"No," he stated, closing the book abruptly and dropping it to the ground. The thwacking sound it made grating on his sensitive hearing. Silence spread between them, not uncomfortable but tense. They both clearly had a lot of things on his mind,
"I'm glad you came back," Dick croaked, his voice a bit rough…Darren didn't want to even think of whether Dick had been screaming or not. The mere notion of that thought set Darren's throat flaming with the memory of his screams forced out by William, "I didn't mean to upset you." Darren's breath caught in his throat if Dick even tried to apologize he might go ballistic again. Dick opened his mouth, but Darren instead reached forward and carefully grabbed Dick's hand firmly in his own, mindful of the sling around his cousin's elbow, before he could utter another word,
"I'm sorry," Darren said—and he meant it, every bit of it, "I'm sorry I did what I did. I'm sorry I hurt you, I shouldn't have done that…I'm sorry…I'm, I'm just so sorry,"
"Darren—" Dick started faintly, struggling to sit up slightly against the pillows, but Darren plowed on unable to stop everything that tumbled out of his mouth,
"—Just…just don't do that to me again. Please don't…don't…scare me like that. Please, you're all I have," Darren's voice cracked and his eyes stung with tears he couldn't shed, but Dick heard the break in his voice…Dick knew what he was trying to say exactly; he knew that Darren was trying to emulate something he felt,
"That's not true Darren. Believe me when I say I'm not all you have…though I understand where you're coming from. I understand that fear, I really do. You don't have to apologize for anything, I am sorry for putting you in such a mentally trying situation," Dick stated softly, giving Darren's hand a light squeeze, "But I did what I had to do last night, you couldn't be taken by the Joker." Darren shook his head eyes narrowing in disbelief, gripping Dick's hand tighter, a lifeline in the growing darkness of the room,
"I don't understand. Why? Why did you let the Joker take you instead of me…he can't hurt me the way he hurt you or Jason or Barbara,"
"That's the problem," Dick stated wearily, letting out a pained breath of air as he attempted to situate himself into a more comfortable position higher up on the stack of pillows under his head, "If the Joker had taken you and realized that you couldn't be hurt…he'd never let you go. He'd be obsessed with you. He'd try to find some way—any way—to hurt you, to hurt Darren Crowne. You'd never be safe,"
"You couldn't know that for sure—," Darren started, but Dick shook his head, cutting Darren off,
"I do…we do. We know the Joker," Darren frowned, ready to argue but again Dick stopped him, "You haven't faced many of the mega-criminals that we deal with on a regular basis. To you, the ultimate enemy is the Court of Owls…it's Ra's al Ghul for hunting your brothers. To us, to this City, it's the Joker. It's Scarecrow and Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze and other Arkham or Belle Reve inmates. We know them like you know the Court of Owls," Darren flinched. Saying he knew the Court of Owls was an understatement, but it put the point across,
"Do you understand now?" Dick questioned,
"Yeah…I-I guess," Darren replied hesitantly, but the fact didn't sit well with him at all,
"Let's talk about something else. I don't want to think of the Joker for at least a whole month. Maybe two if I'm lucky." Dick requested, a small grin—more so a grimace—on his face, "I actually want to talk with you."
Darren, though still overly cautious and uncertain, obliged. The two cousins talked for quite a long time. They discussed things to do when Darren went with Dick and Barbara back to their penthouse for the weekend, on how therapy was going, what Darren, Tim, and Stephanie were going to do in their last few weeks before school started. No other mention of last night was given, nor was there any inquiry on what Dick heard happened between Jason and Darren during their standoff. Though Dick did try to throw in a discussion about some hybrid home-schooling programs into the mix and tried to trick Darren into revealing whether or not he had been drawing earlier when Dick woke up, it was almost as if nothing had gone wrong, as if nothing had happened…but it had, Darren didn't forget that easily.
The sky grew even darker as Darren's head gradually slumped further and further onto the mattress until he was entirely asleep—fitfully asleep—his grip still tight around Dick's wrist. A measure of Dick's pulse to show that he was alive and a lifeline to assure Darren that this was real.
Dick looked out at the quiet and dark room, letting out a surprisingly painless breath of air as he shifted on the bed to a better position. Alfred must have been generous with the pain meds…or they were just doing their job. Not even a slight hint of an ache from his very broken ribs. But Dick grimaced at the feeling of stitches and bandages pulling uncomfortably against his skin. Being Joker's hostage had not been very enjoyable at all…but it had been necessary. Darren was safe, that's all that mattered. A few broken ribs, lacerations, a very unfortunate meeting with Harley's giant hammer to the head, a dislocated shoulder and a few torn off fingernails was worth it in the end. Of course, now that put them down three people for patrol, but what could Dick do? He had to protect Darren from that madman or he would never have a day of peace in his life again.
Glancing over at his cousin, Dick couldn't help but smile. Darren was out cold, one hand still wrapped around his wrist…with a surprisingly tight grip for someone so deeply asleep. It was clear Darren hadn't slept for hours despite spending the night at the hospital—again—his worry for Dick had been too great. The memory of Darren first seeing Dick after being taking by the Joker resurfaced, and Dick couldn't stop the frown that pulled at his lips. It had been discerning to see so much fear and anger rolled into one expression. Darren had lost it at the hospital, threatening Jason and anyone who tried to stop him, and he hadn't known how to express any of those emotions. Dick understood, he remembered every time one of his siblings had been taken…when Jason had been killed, when Barbara had been shot…when they thought Bruce had been killed. Every injury, every kidnapping…everything had been an overload of fear and worry masked by the notion of control. Dick understood why Darren couldn't keep it in anymore…it had been a trying night to begin with by having so many Owls in the Manor and forcing Darren to attend. But Dick also stood by his decision.
Shaking thoughts of the Joker from his mind—the rattling laugh echoed too loudly in his head for comfort—Dick reached up with his free hand to rub at his newly bruised jaw. Stifling a wince as he checked to make sure Darren hadn't knocked out any teeth Dick realized he stood by what he'd done, but the consequences were not so worth it, he hated being injured. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to step in for a kidnapping any time soon.
A knock on the door threw Dick from his thoughts once more—he needed to stop thinking back to last night—and he glanced over at Darren, who was still miraculously asleep despite his sensitive hearing. Dick looked up as Barbara poked her head in the room. A smile slid across his face as his beautiful Barbara stepped into the room. She dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Darren's head, a rare privilege as Darren—in any situation—was not one for affection physical or otherwise, before slowly and silently making her way over to the other side of his bed. Still, without uttering a word, Barbara settled onto the mattress next to Dick, huddling up to his side and letting her head rest lightly on his shoulder. Cautious of his injuries,
"He's exhausted," She murmured finally, looking over at Darren…his eyes still closed, as his chest slowly rose and fell…Barbara looked back over at Dick, "He was terrified…didn't even know it but he was terrified. And angry, and upset because he couldn't help you," Dick took a breath, knowing full well that Darren wasn't the only person to be so negatively impacted by him giving himself over to the Joker as a hostage,
"Yeah, I know. Darren and I had a long talk about that," a brief note of silence,
"You know why I had to do this," Dick stated quietly, casting a careful eye on Darren, "If I hadn't—,"
"—Yes…I know. I know. I really do Dick," Barbara whispered, her green eyes dark in the dimly lit room, "But all I could think about as that madman led you out by gunpoint was of that same gun firing at me. All I could see was that deranged smile blaring down at me as I bled out on my back. All I could think of was what he could do to you, how he could take you away from me like he almost took me away from you. The way he took Jason from us. We face him as ourselves and when we're vigilantes…and every single time all I can think of is this could be it, that could happen again. And I don't know if I could take that, I can't lose you Dick." Barbara's voiced hitched with emotion as she curled herself tighter against Dick's side.
Dick pulled her closer with his good arm as if he couldn't bear to let her go, to let that be his fate or hers or any of his family members'. It was a risk they took every night…there was always a risk, but their lives revolved around their duty to protect Gotham. Protecting the innocent is what they had been raised and trained to do, it's what they would die for. Dick tried not to think about it, but that painful truth was a reality they all danced around dangerously with, it was a truth he faced when Jason died…when Darren died. The Bats could not escape that risk, they couldn't escape the possibility of death…but that was part of who they were. That was the path they chose to walk. Barbara knew this and knew that Dick calculated the risk as well as he could manage before things got worse at the gala. That didn't mean what happened didn't hit hard for everybody who faced the Joker, who knew what that madman was capable of,
"I was terrified. I was so angry and upset," Barbara hissed, her voice wavering. The very same thing that Darren had felt, she had felt…everything vile and sickening caused by Dick being forced away to an uncertain fate, "I could only stand there as he taunted me. I could do nothing as you threw yourself in front of me and I could only watch as you were forced away. I love you Dick. I trust you and I trust your judgment…but never, ever, fucking do that to me again," her voice turned stern and Dick knew she may have been furious and scared out of her mind but she was just relieved that he was okay,
"Understood?" she asked, looking Dick in the eye,
"Crystal clear," Dick agreed, nodding. Barbara nodded against the crook of Dick's neck a small wavering smile fixating on her face as she silently wiped away a few silent tears.
Barbara rarely cried Dick could feel the way she shook and knew that he had shaken her to the core. In a way she didn't think was possible. Dick remembered feeling that way the night the Joker had attacked her…as if the floor had been ripped out from under him and all he could do was fall…nothing and no one there to catch him. Dick pulled her closer, squeezing her against his side as if trying to show that he was there and alive and breathing. They both were alive…they all were. Silence bled into the room calmly and peacefully, despite the conflicting turmoil within its residents.
Dick took a deep breath, glancing down at Barbara, her soft head of bright red hair fanned out around her shoulders smelling faintly of her favorite shampoo. Dick was struck—whether from the drugs he was on or just the fact that everything with the Joker had happened so quickly and had rattled them both in different ways—by how much he loved her. He was taken by how much she comforted him…how much like home personified Barbara was to him. The way she curled around him, her head on his shoulder, her arm resting lightly on his chest, just over his heart…made Dick realize he never wanted to spend another second without her. They had grown up together, been through so many ups and downs, arguments and breakups, moments where things had fallen apart so terribly they both seemed nearly irredeemable. Yet they were still drawn back to one another. Every time Dick and Barbara would find their way back to one another, no matter what they always fell for one another over and over and over again.
With his heart full Dick then looked over at Darren, who was still sound asleep and was almost at once overwhelmed by a feeling of fierce protectiveness and love. Dick thought he was the last of his family, he thought there was no one out there to remind him of what he had lost, or what he loved about his parents. Of course Jason, Tim and Damian were his brothers in every sense of the term except in blood…but then Darren was thrown into his life, abruptly…with a lifetime of trauma and a killer instinct. Despite all that, Dick could see his mother in Darren's hair and smile—even if they had no relation, the uncanny resemblance struck Dick every single time. Dick remembered his father in the way Darren's eyes lit up at a joke or the thought of training and learning a new skill as well as from the sound of his laughter. Though so rare and unused, it bubbled in Darren's chest, bringing glimpses of Dick's father chuckling at a shared joke. Darren may have been Slade's son, but he was Dick's family…he was part of Dick's heart. They both were, Barbara and Darren. Dick couldn't live without either of them.
Death was a constant in their lives. Whether from the everlasting threat of the Court of Owls hanging over Darren or from the vicious and dangerous villains that plagued Gotham nightly. Dick, Barbara and Darren were always at the center of that risk, all of the Bats were. But Dick would always be there to protect them, he would always be there to love them, he would try with everything to be there when they needed him as both Darren and Barbara did for him time and time again. Darren was willing to kill a member of their family just to help Dick and Barbara faced down the monster who shot her point blank in the stomach—changing her life forever. There would be ups and downs, continuous moments of fear and pain and uncertainty. But they would survive everything that came there way together.
That in mind and at heart, Dick…probably out of it from the pain medication…but in no sense out of his mind delirious, tilted his head down to look Barbara in the eyes. She smiled at him, relief and love in her gaze,
"Marry me," Dick stated simply. Barbara blinked at him, her smile morphing into an expression of shock,
"What?" she questioned,
"Marry me," Dick said again. He meant it; he knew he meant it, he wanted it…ever since he laid eyes on her, he knew it,
"Are you serious?" Barbara whispered, a guarded look in her eye, "Don't say that if you don't mean it,"
"—I'm serious," Dick interrupted, "Marry me. We may not live through next week for all we know, and I want to die knowing I promised the rest of my life with you. I want to die knowing I chose you." Barbara stared at him speechless for a moment before shifting her weight so she could reach up and kiss him fiercely on the lips,
"No one is dying," she murmured, cupping Dick's uninjured cheek gently,
"Is that a yes?" Dick questioned, a grin on his face,
"Of course it is you idiot," Barbara hissed with a breathless laugh.
As the hours passed, they both fell asleep whispering of plans for rings and a wedding date. Talking of best men and women, honeymoons and reception parties. All three of them, a small but real family. A family by choice, just as Bruce had created a family for Dick…they were building one of their own. A new branch in the family tree. The three Graysons—in heart if not in name—against the world.
A/N: Hope you liked this chapter! Definitely shorter than usual but that's just how it turned out, plus variety keeps things unique and interesting. On top of that if I had gone on it would have kept going and going until it was on the verge of being too long, if you know what I mean. Chapters end for a reason and a lot of time those reasons make the next chapter all the more exciting.
Just a few things I want to explain here:
1) I really hope I explained Darren's actions and what was going on through his head during and in the aftermath of what happened comprehensively. I hope it made sense to you guys. That being said I hope his stance on what Livia did makes sense. Darren doesn't know how to feel, he knows he should be angry and he is angry he just doesn't know how much or what to really do now that he realizes what Livia's actions mean to him.
2) In relation to the above point, I was actually going to make Darren less upset about what happened but then DarkJokes posted a review that made me realize...yeah, Darren is actually really REALLY upset about what she did because he did compare her actions to Sophie's actions. On top of that her destructive ability could kill him with a single touch! As a survivalist...that shouldn't rest well with Darren, and now it won't. Trouble in paradise I guess huh? Just saying this to show that I really do read what you say and take your opinions into account. When you guys post reviews it makes it easier to see where to go and what you guys understand or interpret from what you read.
3) I really enjoyed writing Dick and Darren's second reunion/reunion take II moment. It flowed very well when I initially wrote it and I think it drove a very important point across.
4) There is a theory, a psychological theory about 'reframing' that I briefly mentioned earlier. Writing about a traumatic event is theorized to help reshape the event in the person's mind. Since Darren is by no means a writer, he will be attempting this theory through drawing. Enacting this theory should be done months after the even though...so perhaps it is a bit premature for Darren but he does have a lot to go with from before the time this series started.
5) Okay, perhaps the last section was a little cheesy—I personally feel that moment worked better in my head—I'm still happy with it and I hope you liked it. You guys need a little cheesiness to dull all the doom and gloom!
Okay. That's all! Thanks so much for reading and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!
Next chapter on Thursday!
