"It's nothing."
His coffee cup is burning his fingers. He keeps them there.
Tunnels his vision on dead, alive eyes.
"Shit's just black. No, not even. It's absolutely nothing. If I was on my way to Hell, I couldn't tell. I didn't know how amazing it was 'til I came back, though. It's the greatest release there is. All these years, I still can't tell you what it feels like, if it feels like something else. 'Cause it doesn't."
"Not everything is comparable, I guess."
He chuckles. "Nah, of course not. But we still try, don't we?" He taps his fingers on the table, showing an anxiousness he hasn't seen for a long time. It's too tense so he's hypnotized by it, staring at the way his brother is staring off into space, recollecting his traumas like they don't haunt him every waking second of his existence.
"It's addicting," he says, finally. "Empowering." He scratches his stubble. "It's almost as much of a blessing as it is a curse. But maybe the curse is that it feels like a blessing."
"Do you miss it?"
All he gets for a response is a stare, because someone's sliding in right next to him.
"It's fucking cold as balls," Roy says, shivering beside him.
"Your balls are cold?" Jason says.
"Yes. Lemme hold that?" Roy takes his cup of coffee and wraps his hands around it.
"Maybe if you actually wore a jacket. What the hell is this?" He picks at Roy's thin ass hoodie.
"So sorry, daddy." He lifts the cup close to his face. "I won't do it again."
He stares at Roy, daring him silently to drink his coffee.
Jason thunks a paper wrapper across the table. "He's just letting the steam envelope him. Much like a lover would."
"Well, you don't wanna do it."
"All you do is harass me. Anything new?"
Roy shakes his head. "Nah. I'm getting kinda nervous."
"Tell me about it," he mumbles under his breath.
He feels both of their eyes on him, but he only stares at his folded hands on the table.
Roy sets his coffee down. "You're really dead set on this, huh."
Jason scoffs. "And everyone says I'm the crazy one. Kid's the real psycho here."
"You're brave." Roy nudges him with his elbow. "Very much so."
He raises his brows. "I've got no choice."
He startles at the sound of his phone ringing and takes it out of his pocket instantly. "Shit," he whispers, his blood pressure rising. He looks up at Jason. "Gotta take this."
Jason nods once and waves him off. He slides out of the booth and exits the restaurant into the bitterly cold morning.
"Hi, my love," he says, physically unable to say it without adoration. "Good morning."
"Good morning," she says sleepily. His chest aches.
"How come you're up so early, honey?" The sun isn't even up in Jump. God, was something wrong? He barely stifles the instant panic.
He can practically hear her pout. "I miss you. I cannot rest without you."
God. God. He sighs in relief.
"I know. Me neither." And it's the honest truth. "I wish I didn't have to leave in the first place."
"How much longer are you staying?"
He exhales away from the receiver. He loves her voice. Needs to hear her and see her, too. But every conversation — he's beginning to dread every word that comes out of her mouth.
He almost stutters. "A bit longer," he says weakly, scraping the snow on the ground with his boot.
Silence on the other end, except the soft huff of her breath. "Oh."
"Star, I know —"
"No," she makes him bite his tongue. "No, Dick, I understand… I will not insert myself into this. I do not want to make this harder for you."
"The hardest part is being away from you for so long." He frowns deeply. "Things are more serious than I thought. I've gotta make sure everything goes smoothly. Just a bit longer. Okay?"
"Okay," she sighs. "As long as you stay safe."
He smiles to himself. "I want nothing more than to hold you tight right now. I love you so much. This is killing me. I didn't think it'd hurt this bad not to be by your side."
She giggles, something airy and tired. "You are always by my side. I am waiting here for you. Do what you must. And then come back to me."
"Yeah. Of course. I promise, baby."
"I love you. Call me later, please."
"Of course I will. I love you. I'll talk to you soon."
"I'll be waiting."
"Love you. Bye bye."
He slinks back into the place, significantly more stressed and sad than when he left.
"Fuck my life," he says as he sits down.
"Hey," Roy says, sipping his own damn drink now. "You're bringing this on yourself."
He hits Roy with the stink eye, to which he only shrugs. Annoying asshole.
"He's right," Jason says.
"Fuck you."
"But don't worry, bro." He leans forward, smiling. "I'll make sure you stay alive."
"Yeah, y'know what they say. Have a cake and eat it too or whatever," Roy says, staring intently at the menu.
He locks eyes with Jason, only Starfire on his mind. "You fuckin' better."
Jason's cheshire grin does little to reassure him.
He knew he wasn't gonna sleep, so he waited for Babs to go to her room and snore before he turned on the tv in her living room. He watches mindless reruns for hours on end, his anxieties eating away at him, but his pure physical exhaustion keeps them from completely taking over.
He envies how fast she falls asleep — but he also knows that she's tired and she has to do normal people things in the morning.
He laments that life. For a moment or two. Watches the better version of it with all the laugh tracks on the screen.
Back in December, when he didn't think for a second it'd come to this, he dared to hope that he could go back to Kori and stay. Now, neither of them knows where the other is.
Vic knows where she is — but he refused to tell.
"It's better if you don't know," he had said.
Maybe he's right. Like he usually is. Damn him.
Just keep to yourself. And I'll do the rest.
If she wasn't… safe, he'd know. Somehow, he'd know.
At about five A.M. he tries to catch maybe half an hour of sleep, but his bones and his racing head won't let him sleep.
So he gets himself ready, a soldier going off to war.
He dresses and secures the harness over his pants, ties his boots extra tight, and quietly opens the door to her room.
She looks so peaceful that it makes him sad. It makes him want to confess his sins right then and there.
Gently, he presses a kiss to her forehead, strokes her cheek, and leaves.
But before he's gone for good, he spots a notepad on her kitchen counter and says goodbye.
Thank you for everything. Take care.
Love, Dick
It doesn't satisfy him, but he doesn't have time. It doesn't matter much, does it? She'll know.
"See you, Babs," he whispers as he shuts her front door.
She awakens to a cool and dark room, wondering if it is even morning at all. Already, her skin screams for sun.
She yawns and stretches, at the very least glad she was able to sleep in a bed for the night. She blinks her tired eyes and lifts herself up, reaching for the curtains beside the bed and pulling them open. Immediately, she basks in the morning light.
"Ahh, much better."
A noise of irritation goes behind her. She whips her head around and sees Sol grimace on the couch with the sudden intrusion of light.
"Good morning!" she whispers loudly, standing on top of the mattress. The sleeve of Sol's shirt slips down her shoulder. He had been kind enough to let her sleep in it.
"Dark," he mutters.
"Oh!" She scrambles to shut the curtains again. "My apologies!"
She sits back down on her heels before slipping onto her stomach, stretching her body fully. It would feel even better with the sunlight, but she is afraid to disturb Sol once again. She lifts herself into the air and enters the restroom, where she freshens up for the day ahead.
When she gets out, she finds him awake, rubbing his eyes.
"Did I wake you?" she says regretfully.
"Yeah, kinda," he says, voice gruff.
She lifts her hands to her mouth, embarrassed. "I am very sorry!"
He snorts as he continues to scrub at his face. "Don't worry about it. What time is it anyway? 7:30? Damn."
"Is that too early for you?"
"No, it's too late. I haven't slept in like this in awhile." He smiles warmly. "So thank you for that."
Something flutters in her stomach at his expression and she returns it, grabbing at the collar of her — his shirt. "You were free to come sleep in the bed with me. It is far more comfortable than the couch. I slept rather well!"
He chuckles. "Ever hear of stranger danger?"
She tilts her head, scrolling through her memories. "I am afraid not. Am I supposed to regard you as a threat?"
"You're really not from around here, huh?"
"I believe we established that last night, no?"
"Yeah, we did."
"I have no reason to regard you as a threat. You offered me kindness and friendship. Tell me, how can I repay you?"
He stares at her, stunned. She clasps her hands underneath her chin. "Please allow me to return your kindness."
He rocks his jaw in thought. "Okay."
"Okay?" She looks at him expectantly, smiling softly.
"Let's go out for breakfast."
"That will not be a problem at all."
"I was hoping it wouldn't be." He stands and walks towards her, her heart beating harder with each step he takes. "I don't really know who you are, but, y'know — it's not a problem at all. I haven't even known you for a day, but I can tell you're something special."
She bats her eyelashes. "Oh?"
His smile is kind. "Mhm. I'd love to go out with you again."
She cannot help but grin with all of her teeth. "Of course, Sol."
It is almost too good to be true.
He eats an apple and yogurt and has tea for breakfast, unsweetened, because he wakes up still shaking from the core.
It's not like he's cold. Or scared. He was violated. Mentally. Psychically. Empathically.
He's pretty sure he knows who it was — but he's not exactly eager to find out for sure. Not now, when he's shaking like a junkie in the damn sunlight in the middle of May.
But he can't tell what makes him feel more sick — what he saw, what he felt, or what he knows.
He knew this was serious… but… is she doomed?
Why fuck with fate? Why should he participate?
He decides to come back inside his current place of living, a little apartment that's pretty much an oversized closet. Roy must've gone out, roaming around like a street rat or going on another one of his dates.
Psht. At least one of them is getting some.
He practically collapses onto the couch, his body aching with a sudden fatigue. The vision flickers in his mind, the blood so distinct that he gags on the imaginary taste forcing itself on his tongue.
Soft clicks sound on the wooden floor. A nice warmth lays upon his thigh.
"Liza," he says to her baby face resting on his leg, eyes wide and wondering. "I'm really in it now."
She jumps onto the couch and curls up beside him. He runs his fingers through her pretty coat, letting it anchor him to Earth. "Sorry I didn't take you out with me. You were sleeping and I wasn't feeling so good." He strokes the fur at the back of her neck, almost hypnotically. "I dread whatever the hell is gonna happen next. You wanna take over for me?"
He gets no response, because she's a dog. It only makes him see how he may not actually be insane, and he didn't concoct that awful vision in his head. But what would be worse? Having this be his reality or an unholy figment of his imagination?
He inspects Eliza's fur, getting dangerously lost in thought.
He could feel the weight of her corpse in his hands, still. Disgustingly so. Like a stain that settles into every layer. And he tries to focus on the soft fur under his fingers, but it's like he's numb to the world. He may as well be floating off into space. He's not grounded anymore.
He swallows thickly and mumbles. "I haven't seen her in so long, Liza." He's almost paralyzed by it all. The overwhelm. The pain in his body, the tension in it. "I don't know how to stop this."
Then some noise comes out of him as a piercingpain stabs through his temples. He lurches forward, fighting the nausea that's rolling down his chest and stomach.
Static. Static going in his mind, so high pitched he can barely hear it, but it still makes him sick. It must have been the same person these past few weeks, trying to get in his head.
Why couldn't he fight it last night? Why?
"Get the FUCK OUT!" He sucks in air through his teeth and holy fuck, he'd rather pass out, holy shit.
"Release," it echoes faintly.
"Release WHAT?"
"Control."
"FUCK YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! STOP RIGHT NOW!"
"Release. Then it won't hurt anymore," the voice goes, coming far and close, close and far. "Protect her."
And then the image — the image of a man he's never seen, smiling down. A laugh that's light, one he knows well.
"Protect her."
His fingers are shaking so hard against his skull that they unfurl by themselves. The pain spreads to right between his eyes, and then —
Green eyes, gleaming in the sunlight. Something tugs at his stomach. Something he's never felt before, but in the moment, it makes perfect sense.
"She's close," he whispers, entering some weird trance as the pain dissipates all at once.
"She shouldn't be, but she is." The voice is becoming clearer now.
He scoffs. "Why're you tellin' me?"
"Because Dick won't listen to me."
He sucks his teeth. Hard. "Of course, of course this is somehow his fucking fault, that dumb piece of shit ass motherfuck—"
"Enough."
"What the fuck do you expect me to do? You're fuckin'— fuckin' raping my mind or some shit!"
"I'm sorry. This is the only way I can communicate right now."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He sighs. "I've got nothing to do with this."
"Yes, you do."
His eyes slip shut and he sinks back into the couch. "I just wanted to get my money back."
"I just want my friend to stay alive."
"I'll relay the message to Dick."
Another wave of nausea hits him, and he gags — and then the messages run out.
What was that? A warning?
"Bitch," he mutters, back to trembling uncontrollably. He scared poor Eliza away because of whoever-the-fuck.
But as he begins to calm down, there's only one question blaring in his mind.
What the hell is Kori doing in Miami?