A/N: Just a few quick things:

1) Please let me know how I'm doing guys, we are at chapter 46, and I will say I have so much planned to happen in this story, but I do not know how you all feel about such a long fanfic. I know some people enjoy really long fanfictions, others don't and prefer shorter stories, and a few will just wait until a story is completed before they read them. I just want to make sure you guys are still engaged with Nobody's Darkness. I get nervous when not many people read the chapters and fear that you guys are losing interest or think the pace is too slow...so please please please let me know what you all think of this story so far. Just tell me anything you can think of, good or bad!

2) So...I really really love charcoal drawings(dur), and because I've inserted them-quite by accident, some things leap at me while I'm writing as I've mentioned before-I literally went on a charcoal drawing binge scrolling through Pinterest. What I'm getting at is if you want me to give you the links to the drawings I found that I think Darren would try to sketch, let me know! I've got a bunch of them, and I think they're so pretty!

3) Also, I don't know if any of guys are in the habit of diagnosing characters at all. But my professor a few semesters ago gave my abnormal psychology class a library that has all the diagnostics for many kinds of disorders and I literally did it for Darren and oh man...he's so fucked up, I'm so sorry my baby boy. If you wanna try, here's the link(I don't know if you need to be a student at my university to access the library, but I thought it was worth a shot):

dsm^psychiatryonline^org/doi/book/10^1176/appi^books^9780890425596

(just insert h.t.t.p.s.:././ in front of link[minus the dots of course], then put . where the ^ is)

Let me know if it works! And let me know what you came up with per the diagnostic criteria!

Okay, that's it for up here! Let's get on with the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Enjoy!


Chapter: 46

Darren was hovering. He couldn't help it, but he was hovering over Dick as if something horrible was going to happen to him again. They were both doing it, Darren and Barbara. To be perfectly honest, Darren felt that Dick was eating up all the attention. Dick was completely enjoying the combined overprotection of his fiancée and his cousin, while it lasted. Darren was more subdued about his uneasy need to make sure Dick was still in the penthouse at all times, he followed Dick around like a shadow, making sure he had a visual at all times. Barbara, on the other hand, smothered Dick with affection. Barbara was always asking how Dick was feeling, what he needed, touching, hugging and kissing him when she could. Darren was not too pleased by their new outlandish show of affection. The two of them weren't typically so openly romantic towards one another, but the lovebirds were recently engaged, and it seemed to have lit a fire under their endearment for one another though they did try to tone it down when Darren was in the room or nearby.

As for Dick and Barbara's engagement, Darren was the only one who knew. They told him as soon as he woke up with a crick in his neck and a second person—Barbara—sitting in the bed next to Dick. Though they seemed slightly disappointed by his reaction—or lack thereof, he promptly left the room after a brief congratulations to get some food…he was starving by that point—they knew he was as happy as he could be about the announcement. In fact, Darren was ecstatic for his cousin and Barbara. Darren liked her a lot, she was smart and kind and helped him when he'd first started living at the Manor from being too overwhelmed at Thanksgiving dinner. He'd known Dick was going to propose for a while, Darren had been the first person Dick asked about the prospect of her not only moving in but joining their 'family.' Apparently, such a big step incited a lot more PDA than one would expect.

Even with what happened with the Joker put behind everyone, Darren still couldn't shake the unease that developed in the wake of Dick's abduction. Many things shattered through his mind, keeping him up at night and unfocused on the world around him during the day. The Owl…that nameless Owl…who watched while Darren was tortured, he'd been in the Manor. That man stood, laughing and talking to other socialites, other members of the Court that Darren couldn't recognize, reminisced with Bruce…drank with Dick…with everyone Darren had come to associate as 'family.'

That Owlman knew Darren would be at the gala and aimed to throw him for a loop. He raised that glass mockingly at Darren to show how powerless he and the Bats were in stopping the Court's operations, at preventing their infestation of Gotham. There was nothing Darren could do; no new answers had surfaced regarding what his mother kept hidden with him in the wake of her death. There were no new insights on the Courts' movements, and there was no leeway with identifying any of the Owl members. Darren didn't even know the name of the man who had haunted him since the tragic gala evening. The lackey of the Court was in part the reason Darren refused to return to the Manor. Darren knew he had to go back soon; he couldn't stay with Dick and Barbara—for now—more than a few days or else the Court might think to send Talons to attack, but the man's presence at the gala caused such a perversion to Darren's perception of the mansion. All he felt was disgust when he thought of Wayne Manor. Perhaps it was wrong, and perhaps it was silly to have one person ruin everything Darren had tried so hard to build within the manor's walls, but it still hit Darren hard whenever that specific memory was brought back to mind. It would pass, but at the moment, Darren was caught under that wave of such a corruptive and corrosive mentality.

Livia's actions the night of the gala also had Darren unsettled. Despite his reluctance to admit his anger towards how she used her abilities against him, the confusion wrought by his affection for her twisted his discomfort in a way that made him unwilling to confront her as he usually would have preferred. Darren knew his anger and wariness was justified, but he was unsure of how to broach the problem. Tim said Livia felt terrible about what happened, about snapping his neck as a means to control his actions, but a feeling wouldn't stop someone from doing something like that again. And that was the problem. Magic was something Darren had no control over, no means of defense…and it was believed that no magic would work on him yet Livia proved that fact wrong. As her abilities grew so did her ability to harm or control Darren. That fact had Darren reeling, uncertain as to how he could face this issue of control while facing deeper and darker demons that haunted his past.

Sophie manifested in his memories like cancer. Her long hair as red as blood, her eyes coal-black as if waiting for a fire to set them aflame. Everything about her screamed control and desire, secrets and lies, death and devastation. Sophie had known every one of his secrets, in a way that Livia did now. Sure, Livia was deprived of the deepest one he hid away, but Tim knew…their combined knowledge mirrored that which Sophie once held over him. And that terrified Darren more than he cared to acknowledge. Secrets were like bargaining pieces, a gamble…a decision…resting on which ones to keep safe and which ones to give freely. Darren learned long ago never to give them freely; their cost was too deep…and yet there he was, drowning in an expanse of unprotected secrets. Hidden truths scattered for others to use, secrets that Sophie would have gladly hung over Darren's head. Darren knew Livia wasn't Sophie, that she couldn't become Sophie and that his secrets and control over himself and his life were secure, but the potential to use those secrets and abilities against Darren instead of protecting them settled between them all—Livia, Tim, and Darren—like a rotten, festering wound.

Nighttime would waste away with Darren struggling to sleep. Sophie surfaced in his dreams, leaving Darren waking in a cold sweat, nausea, and disgust roiling through his gut in waves. The contents of those nightmares a swirling mess of his memories. Sophie appeared as she was before Darren killed her, eyes like black fire and hair like pooling blood—whispering in his ear truths rather left untold, lies carefully crafted and no way to discern the reality of what was said. Or materializing with her chest torn out, Sophie's own cold dead heart bleeding in her hand—outstretched between them like a trophy, a desire so deftly achieved.

Darren would draw. It was the only thing he could do; he refused to talk to Canary about Sophie. He mentioned the gala, and everything else that had occurred over the phone—as Dick had made Darren promise to do for the week—he even told her what Livia had done and how that made him feel…or at least everything he understood as what he felt regarding her actions. Dinah was helpful in facing the other pieces of truths Darren gave her, but Darren could not fess up about the Owlman and Sophie. Perhaps in time, he could bring himself to talk about it with Dinah, but not now, not when everything was still fresh and confusing and still…threatening. What happened with Dick and the Joker was over-with, and Darren only felt confusion meddled with anger and wariness in regards to Livia…perhaps even a little—not fear exactly—alarm, caution…Darren had been down that road before; it did not end well. Dinah pushed him to talk with Livia, Darren dismissively agreed eager to stop that bit of the conversation.

Drawing pushed everything from Darren's mind. It was then—as he drew— that he was genuinely able to destress and relax outside of training. There was nothing there but the paper under his hand and a charcoal pastel scratching lightly against the page…nothing around to distract him, the world melted away as he drew. When Darren woke from nightmares or paced restlessly and sleeplessly in his room, Darren found sanctuary in the living room. Sitting on the couch for hours with his sketchbook, or if the memories of the past and present were too agitating to concentrate on a drawing Darren would mindlessly watch TV. Waiting desperately for sleep to overtake him, a sleep-heavy enough to drown out every vicious demon plaguing him then and there, from the past or present,

"Darren?" Dick's tired voice threw Darren back to the present, the world almost rebuilding itself before him as he looked up startled from his place on the couch…the charcoal pastel in his hand freezing in place.

Dick stood in the kitchen, a hand on the island countertop, looking at him blearily. Glancing at the TV stand revealed it to be eight in the morning. Darren vaguely recalled Barbara leaving at six for work. She looked disgruntled to see Darren lying on the couch but only whispered as she passed on her way out that he should go back to sleep,

"Morning," Darren said blandly, looking back down at the notebook on his lap, already resuming his drawing. Dick sighed before bumbling around the cabinets for the means to make coffee. Darren knew Dick didn't need to be up early, in fact, this was typically late for Dick, it was more force of habit. His cousin wouldn't return to work for another few days, maybe a week if Dr. Leslie didn't give him the okay,

"Is there something wrong with your bed?" Dick asked, leaning back against the countertop and crossing his arms—well trying to, one limb was still in a sling—a frown marring his still bruised face as the coffeemaker hummed by his elbow,

"No," Darren replied shortly, clutching at the pastel a little harder than he should. He kept a watchful eye on Dick through shuttered lids, his focus torn between his cousin and his sketchbook,

"Are you sure? I keep seeing you out here on the couch, that can't be good for your back," Dick stated knowingly,

"I can't have a bad back. I'm a Talon," Darren stated, his voice gentle but cold, "I just get up before you do, that's all,"

"Liar," Dick crowed, picking up the coffee pot and pawing a mug from up above, "I came out here at two-thirty this morning, I was thirsty and saw you passed out on the couch with the TV on." Darren gritted his teeth, trying not to scowl,

"I just couldn't sleep. That's all,"

"Hmmm," Dick hummed, pouring some milk in the mug—the smell strangely calming to Darren, a familiar scent of home, "I'll believe that when pigs fly," Dick muttered, carefully turning to walk towards the dining table,

"Regardless of whether you believe me or not…that is the truth," Darren muttered, and it was the truth. Dick couldn't call him a liar for that, Darren couldn't sleep last night. It was the reason for Darren's insomnia that he refused to share and it was the reason Dick knew not to ask about. Dick sighed but didn't push the topic, instead shifting to an entirely new one,

"Are you drawing?" Dick asked hopefully, trying to peer over the back of the couch as he made his way to the dining table,

"No," Darren replied shortly, continuing to draw as if nothing had been said. It had become a bit of a game for Dick and Darren. Dick would ask about his newfound hobby, and Darren would pretend nothing of the sort existed while Dick tried and failed to sneak a peek of what he was sketching at the moment. A stretch of silence wore on until Darren finally snapped the book closed, glaring over at Dick who had inched closer and closer to try and peer into the contents of the sketchbook. His cousin smiled sheepishly before retreating to his coffee,

"You know you can talk with me about anything right?" Dick asked after a moment or two of silence, "Dinah isn't the only person you can speak to about whatever is bothering you."

Darren was silent for a moment, letting that statement sink in before letting out a sigh and getting up. Dick looked slightly disappointed as Darren started to cross the room as if to disappear in his bedroom once more, only to look up in surprise as Darren sat in the empty chair across from him,

"Actually there is something I wanted to…talk to you about…," Darren started, slightly unsure of himself,

"Of course, what is it?" Dick questioned looking oddly delighted, "How can I help?"

"If someone did something…that you didn't agree with. Something that upset you or angered you or put you on edge, what would you do?" Darren bit out somewhat reluctantly. Dick raised an eyebrow but didn't demand an explanation, just took a silent sip from his mug,

"Well…I guess it would depend on the person. Was it someone I knew? A stranger? Someone in a position of power? A family member or someone I care about?" Darren made a face before taking a breath,

"Let's say it was Barbara," the phrase tumbled out of his mouth before he realized how much it paralleled the truth. Darren winced, expecting rebuff,

"Oh!" Dick stated, clearly surprised, "I see," Dick didn't grin exactly, it was more of a grimace, but it was clear he understood the dilemma Darren was facing. If not the exact situation, the person involved. Darren bit at the cuticles of his thumb, tearing a piece off unintentionally and watched as the skin healed over in an instant, waiting for Dick to respond,

"Well. I know Barbara…and I know she would never compromise my trust in her intentionally or without great cause. Trust to trapeze artists is important. Without that there's no show, nothing to go off of and everything is unbalanced, out of sync. Trust needs to be there, and if it is weakened, then something needs to go…or something needs to be fixed," Dick paused, taking a sip from his mug—which had an image of an elephant on it, the animal's trunk dipping over the lip of the cup as if trying to drink the coffee as well. Darren hadn't noticed that before,

"Now with Barbara, there would be a reason…a purpose for her breaking my trust that extremely to cause such a reaction in me. And I would be angry, and we may argue or yell or shout at one another. We'd say things we didn't mean out of rage and hurt…and we'd storm off to be by ourselves. We've argued before…quite a lot in the past. I'd give her some space. I'd give myself time to think and reason and determine what she did and why." Dick paused again, eyeing Darren with a small grin on his face as if he was about to share a secret,

"Then I'd try again, and face her after everything that was said and done because she's worth it. If she's worth it, you'd listen and try to understand each other. Because trust is not just something that can be broken over and over and over, it is something that can be found again…in your most trying moments. When everything seems to have shattered to pieces, it can be rebuilt again. It is something that can make you stronger together. But only if you try," Dick drained the last of his coffee and looked at Darren expectantly,

"You understand?" he questioned and Darren found himself nodding,

"Yeah…I do. That was very helpful," he murmured, still thinking everything over, trying to stifle the rise of indignation and the feeling of needing to retreat—the feeling that he needed to hide before looking back up ad Dick,

"So what's for breakfast?" Darren questioned. It was Dick's turn to scowl, slightly glaring at Darren for a moment before sighing,

"This better not have just gone right over your head," he muttered, "It was a damn good speech, don't you dare ignore it." His frustration was more humorous than anything, as Dick was already pushing out his chair and starting for the kitchen. And what was said certainly left Darren with a lot to consider.


Livia was avoiding…everything. Not because of Klarion, the demon had all but disappeared…for now. The Trickster was lurking about, waiting to leap on another unsuspecting ally of Livia's, waiting to force her into giving up her magic. No, Livia was avoiding everything…everyone…because so much in her life had gone wrong. There was no going back on her choices and no changing the past despite how much she wished she could. Livia was trapped between her desire to hide away from everything as a means to protect everyone from herself and shielding herself from the consequences of using her magic.

She was avoiding Peter because he had gotten hurt. Her little brother got hurt all because she wouldn't give her power up to save him. Whether her brother knew or understood that fact was a mystery, but Livia knew. She knew what she did, and therefore she bore the brunt of that burden. Livia lived with the fact that her brother cracked his head open on his bedroom wall because of her inability to give up her magic. She knew why she couldn't give in to Klarion, but at the same time was it worth the cost of her family? Livia never wanted her magic to begin with, and now she couldn't give it up without empowering a chaotic demon bent on nothing but destruction. So Livia kept away from her brother, afraid of hurting him…afraid that he despised her for what she did.

Livia was avoiding Alaric because every single day he looked at her with more and more concern and hurt in his gaze as she pulled away. Her father was watching her become more and more isolated. He could tell that something was wrong, but Livia could not face him…and he could not reach her, not without grave consequences, and only Livia knew how drastic those consequences could be. She avoided Alaric because she had to lie about what happened to Peter and about what was happening to her. Livia had to hide an essential piece of herself from Alaric because for all his fatherly devotion; he would not understand.

It was not Livia's mother who was a witch, but her father. The man that Alaric perceived as the cause of his sister's death. There was no way Livia's adoptive father could understand magic and curses…demons and apparitions. In fact, revealing the truth might actually get her sent to an institution, exactly what Klarion wanted for Livia. So Livia lied through her teeth and pushed Alaric away as a means to protect herself and him. Alaric couldn't know the truth, and Livia desperately wanted to tell him but knew the result of revealing that truth would be too hard to bear.

So for most of the day, Livia would barricade herself in her room. Locking away the rest of the world in favor of familiar walls—boring walls. Walls that felt more like a prison than somewhere she could live and feel safe. Livia didn't know if this was the curse at work or Klarion's doing, but she had come to despise her bedroom. Perhaps she was being dramatic…perhaps she was moping because of what happened at the gala, but Livia's room and life was invaded by a demon, one bent on breaking her…and had become over time her ward of isolation as a means of protection for her family. She knew she shouldn't, but Livia couldn't help the rages she went into while trapped in her room.

Magic shattered windows, mirrors, and any glass object within sight. Papers spiraled around her room in a cyclone of wind. Trinkets and photographs shot across the room as Livia let her frustration drive the magic building up within her out. And when she was done, heaving with relief, everything settled back into place…as if nothing had happened. Her magic couldn't be used without quickening the curse…and yet not using her powers cost her deeply. The magic within her itched under her skin, begging for use…for release. And Livia knew, she just knew inherently, the consequences of not letting her magic out every once in a while would destroy her. Livia couldn't use her magic, or the curse would kill her, but if she didn't use her magic…the lack of magical output would destroy her as well.

But perhaps the reality of her dower mood…the depressive rut she fell into…was due to the fact that she felt as if she were losing everyone around her. Livia felt like she was losing her father and brother…and Livia felt like she had lost Darren. The most terrifying and worrying aspect of her isolation. While Livia couldn't bring herself to face her brother and father…she knew that Darren felt the same with her. What she had done affected him more than she ever thought it would. Livia had snapped his neck, rendering him unable to kill Jason and go off to find Dick on his own…she had used her magic against him and overwritten his free will. It had felt wrong…so wrong, but at the same time, she would have done it again if need be.

Livia wanted to talk with Darren. She wanted to hear his voice, she wanted to explain her actions and why she had used her abilities in such a way. Nothing felt right between them, Darren had avoided her just as Livia evaded him. Their silence just as damaging as the source of Livia and Darren's problems. Both knew trust had been broken in a detrimental way. A perceived line had been crossed, and it felt like a chasm had opened up between them. Livia wanted him to hold her; she wanted him to smile at her as if she were everything to him…as if she were more than he could have ever hoped for. Livia yearned for the way Darren gazed at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Most of all…most importantly…Livia wanted Darren. Livia missed Darren, so deeply it hurt to know that he was upset and wounded by her actions,

"Livia?" Darren's familiar voice called softly into the room. Livia felt frozen in place…a deer caught in headlights…at the sudden sound of Darren's voice.

Her name echoed off the walls as if she had willed it into being. Shifting slowly, hoping that she had not imagined his voice in her room, Livia rose from the small nest of pillows and blankets she conscripted into a fort as she thought through everything that happened. She'd been contemplating whether or not she should call Darren, and as she rose, Livia found him crouching silently on the window's edge perfectly balanced with one hand holding onto the side for support. Darren's hair was windswept as if he'd run all the way to her apartment complex and he wore a sweatshirt and sweatpants…almost as if he'd been lying in bed trying to sleep before leaving on a whim. Darren's eyes almost silver in the darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight transfixed behind him. Every aspect of his being, his movement, screamed predator. A look that should have Livia feeling afraid—very afraid—but in truth, Livia only felt stunned. Relieved and stunned that he was actually there,

"Darren?" Livia questioned, breathlessly…stupefied that he was actually speaking to her. Darren slowly dropped to the ground, wordlessly staring at her…taking everything in. Livia mirrored his action, barely able to keep herself from running to him and throwing her arms around him. They broke the silent spell as one, bumbling over each other's words,

"I—well, um…sorr, I can't—," their words blurred as one until they both broke off demurely, breaking their eye contact to gaze at the floor awkwardly. A hush settled over the room…a broken silence that Livia hated. They used to talk and whisper to each other in this room. They would share secrets and stories and dreams and wishes, fears and delights…and everything in between under a blanket of warmth and comfort…a cocoon of trust,

"I can't stay away…I can't let there be this rift between us," Darren finally spoke, his voice rough and riddled with indiscreet emotion…a tone that surprised Livia. She didn't think that he would speak first at the moment they finally confronted one another, "I have to try…because you're worth it Livia. You're worth hearing an explanation and a reason and to talk face to face," Wonder and delight speared though Livia, clearing away the despair from before but also allowed concern and unease to flicker through her. They would have to discuss what happened and Livia didn't know what Darren thought or how he'd react to anything Livia said.

Darren took a step closer, almost ready to take another but seemed to reconsider…he looked almost pained to face her or worried about what was to be discussed,

"You used your magic on me…in a way that you couldn't before, in a way that you knew would stop me…disable me…to overwrite what I could and couldn't do." Livia nodded,

"Yes. I did. Because I had to,"

"You used your magic to control me. To snap my neck. You killed me, the way William and Slade have done…and I know, I know you meant no harm. I know you meant to help me…but that doesn't erase the fact that you did this to control whether or not I went after Dick," Darren nearly spat, anger sparking in his eyes. This time Livia took a step forwards, fire in her gaze,

"Yes. I stopped you. I snapped your neck the same way Jason did moments before, to stop you from doing something impulsive, something reckless. Something that would expose you and put your family at risk. I acted because I knew you weren't in the right place of mind to see reason. I had to act, and I chose to act in the only way I knew how. I would never behave like your great-grandfather or father. You know that…you know me,"

"You always have a choice," Darren growled, "I know you, but I don't know your magic. Your magic is the only thing I can't defend myself from. It's the only thing other than the Court that could control me. I don't like the influence you and your power could have over me,"

"I don't want that Darren. I care about you. I couldn't let you walk into a situation where Dick's life was on the line when you were not fully in control of yourself," Darren let out a scoff,

"Dick needed me…and you stopped me from helping him. He was alone like I was when…when William tortured me…and I couldn't get to him because you interfered," Livia grimaced, hearing the deep loathing and regret in Darren's voice. His harsh statement hung in the air between them, and Livia didn't know how to respond, so she changed tactics. Darren needed to see what she saw; he needed to understand her perspective and her desires,

"What did you see in me?" Livia questioned. Darren looked at her startled,

"What?"

"I once said, people don't just save someone for nothing, they do it because they see something in the other person. You asked me so long ago when you first decided to trust me, what I saw in you. And I told you exactly what I believed I saw. And because of what I see in you, what I know you can become, I will always protect you. I will always try and help you in the best way that I can. And if I need to use my magic, if helping you involves stopping you, incapacitating you by crossing a line I should never cross…then I will do it, because I care about you. And I know you don't understand why caring for someone might mean hurting them…which is why I'm asking, all those months ago when we first met, and you saved me from that Gotham bus: what did you see in me?"

Darren seemed taken aback…at a loss for words. He silently took a step closer to her, as if they were slowly being drawn to each other by an invisible force…an unnamable need to be near one another,

"You were an assassin, freshly rescued from the Court, new on the streets as Renegade and yet you saved me. What went through your mind?" Livia wondered, taking one more step closer. They were an arm's length apart now, unaware of their nearness yet overtly exposed to the fact that all this time despite their anger and uncertainty…they gravitated towards one another without even thinking,

"Nothing. I didn't think, I just acted—,"

"—And I acted just the same. I saw you about to kill your own family. I saw you strangling Jason to death; I saw you becoming something you despised about the Court of Owls. So I stopped you from destroying yourself. You know me, Darren, you know I would only act against you if it meant saving you and your family. You know me," Livia nearly pleaded, she needed Darren to understand, to see that she would only act as such in dire situations…when no one else was getting through to Darren when he only acted on baser instincts and became the assassin The Court had created,

"Remember… do you remember when I saved you after those Talons attacked and dropped you in the alleyway?" Livia questioned intensely. He seemed to cringe at the memory of that night as if remembering the pain he felt,

"—Yes," Darren replied softly,

"Do you remember how I used my magic to save you…how I used my magic to scare those Talons. You asked me why I helped you, and I said 'why wouldn't I?' You trusted me then, though hurt and exposed you let me help you. You knew me through the perspective of two personas and whatever you saw in me as Darren drove you to save me…no matter the risk, no matter the pain and consequences that followed. You trusted me as Renegade in that alleyway—as much as you could—to help you. Do you really doubt that I'd do anything but that now?"

"No, no of course not…but—," Darren started, pausing as if unsure of how to put what he wanted to say next. Wordlessly Darren reached out, gently taking her hand, uncurling her fingers and placed them lightly on his chest.

Livia's breath hitched, her heart fluttering at his nearness, feeling his heart pounding under the palm of her hand…deathly slow yet steady, the unnatural beat of a Talon,

"—you can kill me with a single touch, Livia. I'm a survivor; I'm a killer…and I'm trusting someone who can end me by just a mere desire," Livia looked him in the eye, spearing his attention with the force of her gaze and grabbed Darren's hand—her own remaining in place over his heart—splaying the fingers as well and placing them against her own chest, holding his wrist there lightly,

"So can you. You could kill me too, without a second thought. With your speed and strength, I'd be powerless to stop you just as you couldn't stop my magic from destroying you. Mutually assured destruction…not a great basis for a relationship," she murmured dryly, unable to stop the quirk of her lip at the morbidly inappropriate joke. Darren winced at that fact, that truth. He was not the only one at risk.

They were both hunted, both a dead man and woman walking. The curse bleeding Livia dry magically and the Court a crushing force against Darren. Her own ability minuscule compared to the might of the Court of Owls. She could see the realization, the dawning of those facts, falling over Darren. Livia could see him struggling with who he trusted more, his caution for anyone or thing out to kill him or Livia.

Gently, and silently Livia turned over the hand that she held to her chest. Bringing Darren's palm to her cheek and holding it there for a moment before tilting her head to press a kiss on his wrist—each arm covered by black bands of fabric. She could see him physical shudder at her touch, his eyes closing almost serenely,

"But I know these hands that hurt and maim and kill can also create, can love and heal. This is real Darren. You can hate me; you can be suspicious of every action I ever carry out…but what I feel for you and what I would do for you is real,"

"I can't hate you. I could never hate you," Darren whispered, his eyes snapping open, so sure and true. He was not lying, and Livia felt a flare of hope that they could salvage this relationship, "but I can't trust the power you have that can destroy me...that can control me. You are the only person in the world I am completely at mercy to. William I can kill, the Court I can dismantle, Ra's al Ghul I can avoid and outmaneuver or seek asylum with the Bats," Livia let her hand drop, freeing Darren's hand, and took a step back letting out a harsh breath of air,

"You fear my power, but not me the person? My power and myself are one and the same. You can't have one without the other, that's like me asking you to rip out the side of you that's a Talon. I understand your fear, I do…and I know you don't mean for it to drive your actions…but maybe I can lessen its hold,"

"How?" Darren questioned. Livia hurried over to her desk, rustling around papers and opening draws before finally pulling out a thick sheet of paper. She pressed it down onto her mattress,

"With this," She stated. Darren moved to her side, staring incomprehensibly at the sigils drawn in dark ink, the runes and descriptions marked within the contents of the circles,

"What is it?"

"It's a Word As Bond," Livia stated simply, "Think of it as a magical contract. I felt awful about what I did…and I knew you wouldn't like that lack of control nor would you trust me or my abilities because of what I did. I understand that reaction, and I knew I could correct what I did in the past by securing a commitment for the future. So I found this in my Book of Shadows,"

"But you're using magic to do this!" Darren stated harshly, "Livia the curse—,"

"—Won't hinder this…it's not continuous magic. And this is a small spell," Darren was quiet for a moment before letting out a calming breath of air,

"What does it say?" Darren asked mutedly,

"It's an agreement, one that can't be broken without—well—deadly consequences, that states I cannot use magic against you unless there is a drastic situation where you are either a danger to yourself or those around you…or you are the one in danger. It's not much…I'm sure there are loopholes, but Darren, I won't try to find any. This is for you; this is so that you know putting your trust in me won't backfire…at least not entirely. You need protection the others can't grant you," Darren leaned heavily against the bed, staring down at the Word As Bond intensely for a long quiet moment. He looked almost at a loss for words,

"Y-you'd do this for me? You'd give up that power you have over me? You'd forget about control and blackmail…you wouldn't use me?" Darren's voice cracked with an emotion Livia couldn't name…one she probably couldn't understand,

"Yes. I'd do this without a second thought…because you're worth it." Livia stated, covering Darren's hand where it rested on her duvet with her own, "You've been betrayed before, by people who said they cared about you…by people who were supposed to protect you. You couldn't let that happen again, and I won't be another person who let you down," This time it was Darren who reached up to cup her cheek, his gaze once devoid of hope or trust or any emotion at all now filled with relief, utter relief, and affection,

"I've been a fool," he murmured, "I am lucky to call you an ally, a friend…mine…in the least objectifying way possible," Livia let out a chuckle rolling her eyes and feeling more at ease than she had in a while…elated to see the warm smile on Darren's face once more. She felt at peace, the tense feeling in her gut disappearing, everything righting itself internally along with her good spirits,

"Though magic is needed to enact the Word As Bond…and magic doesn't work on you," Livia stated, gently withdrawing his hand, "I think I've found a workaround,"

"Oh?" Darren questioned, raising an eyebrow, "And what is that?" Livia looked over at Darren, a small half-smirk alighting her features with mischief in her eyes,

"How do you feel about another tattoo?"


Darren sat on the roof of Wayne Manor, staring gloomily out at the horizon. This time around Darren wasn't hiding from anyone, just decided to get out of the stuffy—yet expansive—house. The mansion itself wasn't quite back to feeling homely to Darren again, seeing that Owlman in his home set Darren off kilter. Seeing the mansion's security systems rendered useless to a madman also did nothing to support Darren's sense of protection. Even so, it was good to be back with Tim and Damian, being an only child was not necessarily boring with Dick and Barbara it just meant all of the choices were left up to him and Darren wasn't the most decisive person around nor did he enjoy all the attention. Darren did miss the penthouse though; it was smaller…cozier…than the Manor without feeling too invasive,

"You don't seem too happy to be back," a voice questioned from behind. Darren didn't turn around to watch as Jason made his way over the rooftop, but shrugged letting out a sigh,

"I'm fine. Just a little uneasy. This manor is supposed to be a fortress and yet one slimy clown got through," Jason slumped down a few feet away from Darren, eyeing him almost warily. The last time Darren saw Jason, he had the older boy pinned to the wall by his throat…ready to kill him…Jason's wariness was especially warranted since it was Darren who called him over to the manor. Darren almost expected himself to feel guilty about what he almost did, but nothing registered. What Jason had snarled at him flashed through his mind though, and Darren then felt himself silently seething,

"Smoke?" Jason questioned, and though Darren internally wanted to hate or fight Jason for what he said and what he was trying to do by distracting him from his goals those few nights ago, Darren reached out expectantly for the cigarette.

They sat in silence, Darren and Jason, watching the sun sink slowly beyond the horizon. Each of them contemplating what to say or think or do. Jason taking slow long drags from his cigarette, visible out of the corner of Darren's eye, letting the smoke stream out through his nose with a frown marring his features as if angry about something as well. Darren cupped a hand around the butt of his cig, trying to keep the flame alight…watching the paper crumble into a noxious smelling clump of ash. He took a small pull, letting out a smoke stream of his nose as well, watching the cigarette collapse even more,

"Kid…I—," Jason paused, letting out a sigh, "I just wanted to say…I regret what I said to you, in the hospital. It was cruel, and it was too soon for you. I won't say I am sorry for stopping you from going after Dick, but I will say I am sorry for what I said," Darren was silent for a moment, regarding his cigarette warily before crumpling what was left of the stick in a fist…letting the wind scatter the remnants away,

"Are you sorry for snapping my neck?" Darren questioned, Jason, let out a snort,

"No. You were raving like a lunatic, a danger to yourself and the rest of that hospital and besides, I knew your witchy friend could make them forget they ever saw me do that," Darren glared darkly at Jason, who just smirked right back at him flicking his cigarette off the rooftop,

"So you would worsen Livia's curse just so you could snap my neck in front of a few people?" Darren hissed angrily, curling his hand into a fist by his side,

"To my understanding, she worsened it herself not a mere hour after I did…she had been using magic all evening, don't blame me for actions she implemented to help you," Jason replied, his expression bored but his tone sharp. Darren looked away, glancing at the peaceful scene of nature before him, letting out a sigh,

"Livy and I made peace with what she did…I—I didn't give her enough credit," Jason let out a hum of agreement before silence reigned between them. The memory of what happened brought on a moment of unease to Darren, not because of what was said…Jason had only been trying to provoke Darren and stall him…but because of what was done.

Darren had been fully intent on killing Jason, he could have done it, he was ready to do it, and he had every opportunity. Jason wasn't fighting him; he wasn't trying to stop Darren, it was even like he was testing whether or not Darren would truly follow through…but Darren didn't follow through. That is what bothered Darren. Why didn't he kill Jason? What was that…feeling, that something that held him back,

"I'm not sorry for nearly killing you. I was angry, I needed to protect Dick, and you were asking for it," Darren monotoned after trying to determine the problem that had stopped him from killing Jason and coming up with nothing.

Pulling his knees to his chest and staring out at the sunset, Darren contemplated the past evening some more. He knew that he wanted to kill Jason, he was angry enough not to care about the consequences and it would have freed him from the room…there would be no one in his way preventing him from going after Dick. But again, something stopped Darren. Something that Darren didn't understand, and it was frustrating Darren as he tried to unravel what that was,

"Hmm, was I now?" Jason questioned, rolling his eyes. He shifted to face Darren directly, his verdigris eyes narrowed, "C'mon kid, what's actually on your mind?" Darren scowled,

"Why didn't I kill you?" he hissed, "I had every opportunity, you weren't fighting me…and I needed to get out; I needed to escape you were my only obstacle. Why. Couldn't. I. Kill. You? What stopped me?" Jason let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head before settling into a more serious deposition,

"Maybe because you somehow knew that killing me wouldn't solve your problems. Maybe you knew that there were windows behind you, you'd surely survive the drop Darren, and with only a wounded person between you and your way out made it all the more easier to follow through. But I was the thing trying to antagonize you…trying to draw your attention. But you knew you didn't have to kill me, there were other ways to get what you wanted," Jason stated, his voice harsh before pausing, side-eyeing Darren, as if considering answers, "Or maybe you didn't kill me because deep down you knew you didn't want to kill me. You didn't want to be like your father who just kills and kills for money. And you didn't want to be like your great-grandfather who just kills and kills because he likes it," his voice was softer, kinder as Darren shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tensing at even the mere hypothetical comparison between himself and his father or great grandfather,

"Or maybe you didn't kill me because you didn't want to, because you cared about me. Because you care about us," Jason's voice was almost a whisper, but it carried, and Darren couldn't help but feel a little flutter of agreement bubble in his chest, "We're your family and you don't want to hurt us no matter what we say or what we do. Deep down you may be an assassin, but the hard shell of armor that comes with being a killer can be cracked by those who are important to us,"

Darren let out a shuddering breath, letting that realization wash over him…understanding what such a thing meant to him and his enemies. And for the first time, the first real time since Dick had been taken, Darren understood why Tim was so desperate to play the civilian. He understood why all the Bats were so cautious and determined when it came to their identities. Of course, with Darren, it was about him caring for people that he was so concerned about, but caring for people was why the Bats protected their true identity so securely. The mentalities aligned and Darren felt even worse about how he had reacted and behaved to Dick being taken by the Joker. He felt bad of course, but still not regretful of what happened,

"I…I think you're right," Darren murmured. And Jason smirked,

"Aww, you care about me,"

"Shut up. Clearly not enough if I was literally strangling you. If Livy hadn't interfered you'd definitely be dead," Jason rolled his eyes,

"Yeah, okay. I guess your empathy still needs a little work, but you did stop yourself," Jason stated, "Is this why you called me here? You needed me to play Canary?"

"No," Darren replied, giving Jason a small grin…remembering how so many months ago, Darren had asked Jason the same thing, "I need your help with something,"

"Ah, you need a favor,"

"I guess you could call it that," Darren replied shrugging,

"What kind of favor?" Jason questioned, looking at Darren suspiciously,

"An oldie but a goodie," was all Darren said, a smirk on his face.


Darren and Livia were cocooned amongst her blankets and pillows on her bed. The nighttime sounds of Gotham City white noise in the background as they huddled up against one another, whispering and talking about all that they missed in their brief period of exile from one another. Darren, with difficulty, admitting to his past with Sophie and his initial concern about Livia's powers holding such control over him just as Sophie blackmailed him once before. What that secret was, Darren couldn't bring himself to tell. And Livia understood that some secrets needed to be kept for a time. They both let too much of themselves bare the past few days; they could wait for another time to share more with one another. Both of them peeling layer after layer back from one another, finding their way deeper and deeper to the person they were inside and out,

"Did it hurt?" Livia questioned, gently running a hand around the newly shaped tattoo on Darren's chest. Just over the wound he received the night Livia had acted on impulse to save him, a symbol of their trust now solidified with the inked sigil on near Darren's right shoulder,

"No more than getting the wings on my back redone," Darren replied, a rare smile on his face as he gently pushed back loose strands of Livia's hair. Along with the sealed Word As Bond tattoo, Darren also employed the tattoo artist Morty to reapply the wings William destroyed,

"Really? Nothing? Not even from the added magic?" She questioned, surprised.

To make the Word As Bond even remotely work, or at least mean something, there needed to be a way for the physical reminder of the deal to appear on Darren…imbued with the magic the contract formed. For a Talon, that would be pretty much impossible except for the fact that a tattoo would stay despite their healing factors. Which is why Livia pulled the ink out of the page she created, cast the spell and gave the enchanted ink to the tattoo artist to use instead of the original ink.

Of course, implementing the Word As Bond in the form of a tattoo meant Darren needed to inject himself with the Serum—an effective poison to him—which is why Jason came with them. Not only to make sure Darren didn't die from overexposure to the Serum, but also because the Cure needed to be stolen away from the Cave and Jason was their best bet at getting away with that. Though Livia suspected Jason didn't steal the Cure like Darren thought he did, instead he probably asked Tim for it. Both boys knew the importance of the wings Darren had tattooed on his back, and how devastated he was that William had destroyed their design, rendering their meaning useless.

Now the sigil was inked into Darren's skin. They just added a drop of their blood and Livia cast the spell completely. She was sure the tattoo parlor owner had a conniption over the fact that they were doing magic, and forcing him to use improper ink…but he was paid handsomely for his services and seemed happy enough by the end. Jason also threatened him into silence, which was a bit unnerving—Livia could have just made him forget what happened but was a bit unsteady and weary from casting the spell actually to do so,

"You were there Livia, you saw the sigil get inked," Darren stated lightly, he reached for her hand and gently held it, running a finger over the brand at the base of her right thumb. A replica of the sigil tattooed on Darren's chest—albeit the tattoo was slightly larger, big enough to cover most of the scar tissue of the stab wound—and proof that the Word As Bond worked, "Did this hurt?" he questioned, lightly. Livia rolled her eyes, shifting slightly on the bed so she could face Darren better,

"Only a little. But that meant the Word As Bond worked. No unwarranted magic for you," she stated, smiling brightly. Darren grimaced slightly, sitting up and dislodging the mess of blankets pulled over them—Livia's room was frigid to Darren, her father liked the air on high during the summer—Livia rose with him, concern in her gaze,

"I…I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to find this solution for us. I just couldn't—,"

"—you couldn't let someone have such power over you. I understand. We've come a long way from believing magic doesn't work on Talons haven't we?"

"I think you're just a bit more creative than the Baudelaire witches before you," Darren stated dryly,

"Being self-taught has its perks I guess," Livia agreed, chuckling lightly. Darren reached over, as if unable to stop himself, and caressed her cheek a wan look of warmth in his eyes,

"I am thankful for you Livia. Without you, I'd be lost and empty…which is why I promise you I will find a way to break Klarion's Curse," The affection in Darren's gaze iced over with the determination and wrath only an assassin could achieve. And it was a promise of an excruciating end to the embodiment of Chaos…if possible.

While Livia might be Darren's secret weapon against the Court of Owls, Darren might be Livia's only hope against Klarion. He cannot be hurt by normal means, and magic typically didn't work on him. They were both powerful pieces on the board Klarion was so fond of maneuvering…and Livia couldn't help but feel her heart swell with hope and utter joy that he was back by her side, that what happened before hadn't gotten between them, hadn't severed their connection,

"We'll stop both the Court and Klarion together," Livia stated firmly, including the Court of Owls in that threat as well. Both their days were numbered,

"Together," Darren agreed, just as his phone beeped from its spot on her desk. With a huff of annoyance, Darren snagged it, reading the message with a frown and tapping out a response before shifting the covers fully off of him,

"What's wrong?" Livia asked, worried,

"Nothing. I just need to get home. Dick was worrying," Darren muttered, grabbing his shoes and shoving them on, "And I have no idea why, I'm not the one who looks like a rotten tomato right now," Livia smirked and rolled her eyes watching as he started for the window,

"Wait," Livia called, reaching over and taking hold of his hand, "You'll come back…right?" Darren looked at her confused,

"Of course I will,"

"I've…I just miss you. I hated being apart…I—" Livia cut herself off, wishing she could utter a better word to express how she felt…wishing it was the time for such a thing. What Livia felt went deeper than just affection, she knew it…she felt it just as she felt the deep well of magic within herself, "—I care for you…a lot," she whispered, wishing Darren could understand everything she felt and wanted to share—but knew he might not feel that way back.

So Livia remained silent, ending lamely with that point. But Darren nodded, complete understanding on his face, He bent down to give her a fleeting kiss, one that portrayed his own level of affection, vanishing from her side in an instant and reappearing before her window, pulling it up so he could make his exit,

"I know…I—," Darren paused as if considering something, "—I-I'll come by whenever I can," Darren seemed to stumble over his words as well, perhaps unsure of how to express himself so soon after feeling nothing but rage and frustration towards her,

"We'll save each other Livia. I promise." And with that Darren was gone.

Leaving Livia with a new kind of ache in her chest.


A/N: Hope you liked this chapter! Just a few more points, as usual guys. I have a lot on my mind that I need to share!

1) I hope Darren and Livia's argument and making up made sense. I hope that I portrayed how significant it was that Livia was offering to even enact the Word As Bond for Darren, and what that meant to him. If you want to see what a Word As Bond is, look up the Magicians(really good show!) there is an episode all about them essentially and it's where I got the idea from.

2) I hope the conversation with Darren and Jason was okay. I also personally really like that it was Jason Darren went to for help with the tattoo like at the beginning of Nobody's Savior. I felt it all came full circle that way and was really nice. Also really really really happy I got to use the 'An oldie but a goodie," line. My family uses it often XD

3) I didn't want to go into the whole tattoo thing again, so I skipped it in favor of a brief rundown of what happened with Livia and Darren cuddling in bed. Kind of a bittersweet ending there, it seemed like they both had something else they wanted to say ;)

Finally if you have any questions comments and/or concerns PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I want to hear all your lovely opinions and ideas and I will try to answer anything you may ask or suggest!

Thanks for reading.

Next chapter on Thursday!