The next morning, I found myself wide awake at 5:30, so I decided to excuse myself from the darkness of my room and start training earlier. I moved silently through the great manor and made my way into the Batcave. I warmed up and hit the punching bag a few times, keeping my movement light and my punches swift. After adding more wrap to my knuckles, I moved over to the rings and swung myself through the air. Though the cave was cold and dense, if I closed my eyes, it felt like swinging from roof to roof during patrol. I practiced my landing a few times and then found my company had finally awoken.
"Good morning princess," I jabbed at Jason who looked like he was barely conscious but entirely angry. He merely huffed a response and flopped onto the mat to stretch. Tim matched his energy and downed his coffee before falling onto the mat near Jason.
Dick was a little better than these too, but still rubbed his eyes a few times, letting a yawn slip every now and then. Damian merely stood still at his father's side.
Bruce was not a morning person either. He took a long, drawn out of sip of his coffee and then sighed.
"Alright, listen up. Today, we work on combat. You'll each take turns sparring each other and then run through your individual workouts after. Understood?"
Silence met him, but that meant the same thing in this household, or cave, or whatever this place was.
Another long sip of coffee, "Right, Dick and Faith, on the mat." The others dispersed to continue warming up but watched the mat every now and then.
Great. Dick had still failed to meet my eyes or even acknowledge my renewed presence at the manor since last week, but I guess sparring meant he had to communicate with me. Even if that communication was him throwing punches. I'll take what I can get. Plus, punches aren't all that uncommon around here anyways.
Dick moved towards the mat and my feet pulled me in the same direction. He looked at me, finally, but there was no sense of our normal relationship in his eyes. He merely saw me; it was almost like he didn't know who I was. Fine, I guess we're doing this the hard way. This was getting old, fast.
As the second oldest, Dick and I had been sparring the longest. I knew his moves and he knew mine, making a pretty even playing field. Our fights went on forever and only ended with a tired mistake and a taken opportunity.
Luckily for me, Dick's ego pushed him to make the first move, always. Whether it was something he noticed and never bothered to change or not, I always used it to my advantage. Dick came running forward, leading with his right arm, prepared to deliver a punch to my chest. I sidestepped and ducked, delivering an elbow to his right back side. He regained his footing and moved closer, sending his fists to my shoulders. I ducked once and blocked with my forearm, but my second reaction time was slower, allowing him to make contact with the edge of my arm. I pushed me off balance, but I rolled backwards and put my feet under myself again. We continued like this for a while, a dance back and forth, but something had Dick on edge. He started to get angry, and his technique became much more aggressive.
Dick and I had tussled before, but it always ended before it became serious. This time I didn't know if I could be so sure. He made a few hits to my stomach and sides before I took the offensive, using his shoulders to propel myself over him and send a kick to the back of his knee. He fell forward but jutted his leg out, catching my ankle and forcing me onto my back. He quickly moved to pin me, but I rolled over and flung myself into a handspring to give myself time and space.
I turned quickly, knowing Dick was coming at me with another punch ready, I blocked a few hits, absorbing a few in my stomach, before I was able to land a few. His breathing was ragged, and he just look plain pissed. I'm starting to feel the same way. He sent a punch straight at my face and before I had a chance to react, it landed on the bridge of my nose. That stupid stinging sensation. I stumbled back and grabbed my nose quickly, making sure it wasn't broken. Okay, now I'm mad.
"Dick, will you chill out?" I spoke and maneuvered myself in a circle around him on the mat. "Not sure what was in your cup this morning, but it's making you a bigger dick than usual," I smirked at him, pleading for some sort of reaction, though anger fueled the fire beneath the sarcasm.
"Not gonna let you distract me, but good try," he voiced back. At least he responded. Not his normal tone nor attitude, but at least he said something.
He landed one more hit to my side before I had had enough. Dick gets sloppy when he fights too angry. His continuous offensive moves left him defenseless against my reaction, thus I was able to land a substantial punch to his side and sweep his feet at the same time. He rolled backwards and propelled himself forward, attempting to tackle me again. Okay, I'm done with this. My nose fucking hurts, and he's being…well a dick. I again, sidestepped and elbowed his side sending him to the ground, but before he could kick out a leg again, I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. After a few seconds, Bruce signaled it over, and Dick huffed and flung my hand off his wrist.
"Ya know," I felt along the bridge of my nose, "you could've just punched my jaw." I wiped the blood from under my nose and added, "Would've saved me some trouble."
He stared at me with an empty expression and then turned away, responding under his breath, "That would've been less fun."
"Sorry," I fought back, "If you have something to say, you can just say it to my face." I grabbed his shoulder, making him meet my gaze. His black eye was almost completely gone, a light green hue clouding his normally tanned skin.
Jason materialized with one arm on either of our shoulders, "Alright, you two. Time to stop."
"No, if he's got something to say, he better say it to my fucking face," I pointed a finger at Dick, fighting to not totally lose it.
Dick's eyes flared up with fire and he fired back, "I said 'Would've been less fun'."
Jason's hand pressed deeper into my shoulder, "What is your fucking deal? Huh?"
He threw his head back and laughed, "Not like it's any of your business." He's a dead man.
Bruce had long since noticed the argument and had stepped closer to the mat, but still watching from afar. Tim was in my prereferral vision, and I could just barely make out Damian's hair beside Dick. This was going nowhere.
I stared back at Dick, searching his eyes for anything that would tell me why he was being like this. And nothing. I sighed and pushed Jason's arm off of my shoulder. He stayed between us, his other arm still firmly planted on Dick's chest, preventing any lunging movements at me.
I looked at Dick one more time, waiting for something, but all I found was his unrelenting anger. Boys. I grabbed my discarded towel and sweatshirt off the mat and making my way to the stairs.
Bruce tried to pull me back in, "Faith, wait-." Nope, I'm so out of here. I waved my hand without turning back and trekked up the stairs and back into the manor.
I walked soundlessly back to my room and got in the shower, trying to let the water wash away my anger. Typical of him to just let his issues build up and then let them all come pouring out. Why the fuck can't he just use his words?! I don't understand what his issue is. Not one bit. The water had long since washed away all the soap, and finally, I turned it off. I changed and sat on my bed, facing the wall covered with many frames.
Alfred tried to speak to me, but I didn't want to talk about it with anyone but Dick. This was his issue and he needed to be a big boy and use his words. Tim knocked a few times and offered a few consoling words, but I didn't care to listen.
My gaze wandered over the frames nailed to the wall; a younger Batman and a much younger Luna smiled at me, a family picture from last year's Christmas, Jason and I doing the Titanic scene off a rooftop in Gotham. My eyes finally landed on the one picture I didn't want to see; looking up at me was the very first Robin, dressed in his pixie boots and cape, and a smiling young Luna with her first navy blue cape and uniform. I don't remember him always being this stubborn and pissy…okay maybe stubborn, but the pissy was definitely brought on by puberty.
Another knock sounded at the door, "C'mon you guys! Seriously? I told you all I don't want to-," I stopped myself when my door revealed none other than the first Boy Wonder himself.
I frowned, "Are you here to punch me again or are you gonna use your big boy words?" I instinctively went to touch my nose; the throbbing had stopped but it was still sore to the touch.
He scratched the back of his neck, refusing to look at me, rather, studying the interesting floor beneath us. I tried to be patient waiting for an answer, but I had lost most of it when blood started running from my nose.
I waited a few more seconds before starting to close the door, "Okay, Dick, come back another time then. My nose seriously can't handle another round."
Finally, he startled back to life and his hand caught the door, "Look, Faith, I'm sorry. I took it too far earlier and my temper got the best of me." Still staring at the ground, but talking. It's something.
"Damn right it did," I mumbled back and looked up to see pleading eyes. A small wave of guilt tugged at my heart, but I had a right to be angry. I pushed the feeling down.
He moved further into my room and found his way to the wall of frames. We used to love going through all the pictures together after a particularly rough patrol. I studied his face as his eyes looked through each picture. He found a picture of the Young Justice team after I was initiated, a small smile broke his solemn features. Finally, he picked up the one picture I had looked at last; our picture.
"Man, I can't believe Bruce let me go out like this," He chuckled softly, and I felt relief wash over myself. Finally, something Dick would actually say.
"Yeah, the whole no-pants thing was beyond odd. Not your most flattering look," I smiled at him.
He shook his head and feigned hurt, "Ouch. At least my cape wasn't too big for me." I moved closer to flick his head.
"Oh, shut it." I sat down on the edge of my bed and stared at him and then let my eyes pour over the frames. He moved to sit next to me after a moment. I looked at his eyes and found the source of his melancholy mood. Something's off.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing to meet his gaze, "Dick? Are you okay?"
He almost looked surprised by the question and momentarily stiffened. He blinked a few times and broke our gaze to stare at the carpet once more.
"I just – I don't know. Last week really threw me off guard," he spoke slowly.
That caught my attention, "Dick, it really was a mild sedative. It was disorientating, sure, but I'm fine now? It doesn't have any lasting effects. And I thought your eye was healing fine?" I looked at him again, praying for a bit more of an explanation.
"I know, I know, it…," he paused, "Seeing you lose consciousness and lying there, limp. And I couldn't do anything…" His voice was so quiet. He let his head fall into his hands, my hand still resting on his shoulder. I gave him a reassuring squeeze, unaware of whether or not it would serve its purpose.
The silence between us was potent. I didn't know what to say, I barely understood. I mean sure we were in the middle of a fight, but all of us, all of us, had been knocked unconscious before. I can't count how many times I've seen Dick knocked out. I mean we've all been through a hell of a lot worse. But I didn't say any of that. I don't think that was what he was getting at.
I spoke slowly at first, trying to comprehend him as I did so, "Dick, I promise I'm okay." I forced a laugh, "we both know I've been through much worse. We both have."
He brought his eyes up to mine. I had known Dick for a really long time. Bruce brought me in only a few years after he adopted Dick. I had trained with him for years, worked beside him for years. He was my best friend, my person through all of the hell we'd been through after our induction into this world. Dick's blue eyes were a pretty constant sea of turmoil; there was always something on his mind. He was stressed and overwhelmed with worry for all of his teammates, and it showed. The others didn't notice their stoic leader as much, but those that knew him well could tell when something was troubling him, like now.
"I know you're right, but it's just – I care a lot about you, and it hurts to see you like that. I can't stand it." He admitted, fists clenching the bed sheets.
"I know, Dick, I'm sorry. I left myself vulnerable and made a mistake, but I'm okay now. You have to believe that." I looked into his eyes, begging him to understand that all was well. He put his hand on my knee and squeezed. A sign.
His usual twinkle gleamed briefly in his eyes, "Next time though," I add, "Don't punch me in the nose if you're upset. I may be okay with it for now, but next time it definitely won't fly. You're lucky I let you off easily." I laughed and he chuckled while shaking his head.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that too. I wasn't trying to shut you out. I was hurt and angry, and I just let it get the best of me," He sighed. I dropped my hand from his shoulder and grabbed his hands, giving them a squeeze. He looked up and smiled at me. The familiar Dick Grayson twinkle gleamed once again, and I knew that this was behind us. Thank god.
"Alright, twinkle toes, let's go. I want lunch and you owe me an ice pack," I said standing. I hadn't dropped his hands, but he hadn't let go of mine either. I tugged and pulled his hand, using myself as leverage to get him to stand. Once standing, he still held onto me. I looked down quickly, unsure of whether or not to let go, but not wanting him to notice. He did. He dropped my hands immediately and tried to play it off by scratching the back of his head.
"Yeah, right then, let's go," He replied simply. I followed him out the door and down to the kitchen.
Alfred was washing dishes after preparing lunch, and Dick and I stood in the kitchen eating. I had propped myself on the counter, something Alfred couldn't shake out of me, and Dick stood opposite leaning against the wall. He was telling me about some training between him and Jason when Tim walked in, looking beyond exhausted. He slumped in a barstool and poured himself another cup of coffee. It took him a few moments to notice we were even there.
"Holy shit! Uh, hey, guys?" His gaze moved wearily back and forth between Dick and I. "You guys aren't gonna start fighting again, are you?" He raised his hands in defeat, "I am in no place to stop anything, so just leave me out of it if you are, please."
"Ah, c'mon, Timmy! Where would the fun in that be?" I laughed. He studied Dick's face once more, before nodding, accepting our good terms for now.
Tim continued, "That demon brat is something else. I swear if I had turned my back he was going to try and gouge my eyes out."
Dick chuckled, "Don't give him any more credit, please." He slid a plate of food over to Tim, who looked like picking up his fork was going to kill him. The three of us continued small talk for a while, Tim starting his third cup of coffee and Damian coming to join us.
"Drake, Grayson, Miller." Damian nodded a greeting at each of us before sitting at a barstool, farthest away from Tim. Tim inched away, shielding his plate while staring daggers at Damian. I stifled a laugh and Dick just rolled his eyes.
Damian stared up at me, eyes squinted and studying, "What is it? What is funny?"
"Nothing, Damian, nothing. Don't worry about it. So how was training?" I replied, stuffing my laughter back down.
Damian poked at his plate, contemplating his words, "Alright, I suppose. Drake proved a rather easy adversary and I completed my training quickly after." A grin plastered itself onto my face, and Tim who had continued to eat while protecting his plate, looked like he was about to blow. Dick failed to cover a laugh with a cough, making Damian look up again to study the two of us.
"What is it now?" He studied our faces again.
I hopped off the counter and walked over to him, "Ah, see Damian, Timmy here was just telling us about your training together." I leaned on his shoulder, which he merely tolerated; it took him awhile to get used to touch, but he no longer forced our hands away.
Damian turned his gaze over to Tim, who was sipping his coffee with white knuckles.
Tim said nothing, just continued to eat, and eventually Damian stopped glaring, "Okay, whatever." Dick and I picked up our conversation again, Damian and Tim added their two-sense every so often. Lunch continued peacefully, thankfully and surprisingly, and we all returned to training a while after.
I trained with Drake for a while and watched Bruce and Jason spar. We went up for dinner, and then Bruce parted for patrol without us, again.
It took a few more days and exhausting training sessions before we were allowed out on patrol again. Bruce said we had regained his trust, but Alfred told us secretly patrol was too much for him all alone.
Either way, the wind whipping my hair and tickling my skin was the breath of fresh air I needed, figuratively and literally, I guess. I rounded corners, the hum of my bike accompanying me the whole way. I zipped through cars, leaning almost dangerously close to the ground, and stole through the night. My only attachment to the world around me for the moment was the following echo of another hum. Nightwing's bike trailed behind me, echoing each of my moves, feet behind mine. Eventually we came to the pier at the edge of Bludhaven; Bruce had mentioned some curious messages surrounding the pier and sent us off to investigate. Drake and Todd were handling a few drug deals while Damian teamed with Bruce heading on some pending Penguin issues. Nothing immensely small, but also nothing worrisome.
I flipped down my kickstand as I heard Nightwing rumble to a stop beside me. I tugged off my helmet, "Yep this looks about right for a sketchy situation."
"Oh definitely," he added, "I can see it now." He pulled out an escrima stick and shot a line up to the top of the building. I followed suit. It was quiet for a few hours, we listened in to the other's action-packed nights with our own added grumblings about the pier being quiet. After long nights stuck in the cave, I really needed to punch something that would put up a fight. Nightwing not included.
I looked over the town, Bludhaven was lit up with bright, neon lights and made Gotham look even more bleak. The water lapped at the pier and the wind was light and airy. I closed my eyes and inhaled the fresh air. My lungs grasped for more and more, wanting nothing more than to drown in the night air. Nightwing continued to grumble into the comms, checking everyone's status and location. It was faint, but a car motor was approaching. I peered over the edge and saw a small black sedan drive down the same path we had rode in on. Its lights were off and looked like a perfect suspect for our purposeless energy. I sent a nudge to Nightwing with my elbow, greeted only by a swat of a hand and more nonsense into the comms. I elbowed harder, making contact with his ribs, which prompted a loud, "Ow!"
"Shut up!" I slapped a hand over his mouth and pointed down. He rolled his eyes but looked, which was only when I decided to remove my hand. We studied the car as it rolled slowly through the blocks and eventually came to a stop. Nightwing pointed to a carrier that provided a better view of the car and hopefully who was inside, I nodded and followed his careful footsteps. We trailed down the side of the building and treaded lightly across the storage blocks, until we came to a rest atop one facing the car. There was no license plate, so nothing to trace.
The car shut off and the backdoor opened. A man stepped out, I couldn't make out his face and judging by Nightwing's sigh, neither could he. He had a long black coat and carried a black suitcase, yeesh stereotypical much? His hat covered the majority of his face from our view. He closed the car door and stepped up to the driver's window. He leaned into the window for a moment and then quickly pulled a gun from his side and shot the driver. He walked away to the edge of the pier, away from the car, and looked around. He checked his watch a few times and stood silently waiting, waiting for whoever was supposed to be coming. Nightwing was anxious for action, his whole body seemed to shake with nervous energy. I placed my hand on his shoulder and shook my head, 'We have to wait.'
He looked back at me, as if to say, 'I know, I know.'
We peered back over the edge and watched as another small black car arrived in the same fashion. It came from a new direction but had no lights nor sound. Another man stepped out from the backseat in the same attire and in the same horrid fashion, shot their driver. The first man watched as the other approached. They did not shake hands, but nearly nodded at one another. Then within an instant, both stared straight at us and opened fire. I pulled Nightwing back from the edge as fast as I could, a shocked look breaching both of our faces. I did a quick visual check over him and found no holes nor blood, I could tell he was doing the same as both of our eyes met at the same time.
Again, we nodded and split off in two directions, I opened my comms as I maneuvered over the carriers and down to the road, "Nightwing and I are facing open fire from two unknown men. Nothing about them screams anything about their identity."
There was a brief moment of silence before Bruce sounded back, "Acknowledged. Proceed."
I flipped myself onto the pavement, moving in the shadows between storage crates. The gunfire had stopped, or stalled, and it was silent. Dead silent.
"Looking for someone, princess?"
What's worse than silence on patrol? When someone other than your partner breaks it.