OOF. It's been a while. But here I am, right before finals writing a chapter when I should be studying!
Help.
Chapter 15: Family
The stale air in his bedroom was stiffling him. He could barely see beyond the darkness surrounding the bed, the lights having never been turned on. Only the sliver of light from underneath the metallic, sliding door offered any illumination.
Yet he couldn't find the motivation to move from his circled position on his bed.
Robin sighed, shifting, joints cracking in the process. It had been almost exactly a day from his confrontation with Batman. And in that time, all Robin had managed to do was locked himself in his room, sleep, and suffer inside the turmoil that was his mind.
His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Getting up now, at this time of day, would mean bumping into many people that he wanted to avoid at all costs.
Why did he agree to do this? Robin knew this was how it would end up, with their teams in shambles, distrusting one another, and with Robin right in the middle, trying desperately to keep himself from completely fall apart.
Robin should have declined the offer. That would have been the smart thing to do. But he had to listen to his team, and now they were stuck in this garbage fire.
Robin's breath hitched as he pushed back another sob. He knew it was immature, but all of this felt so unfair.
Why did his life have to be filled with so much misery? First his parents, then the juvinile detention center, then Batman's shadow and expectations, then surviving alone on the streets, then Slade, and now this...
When did it end?
It never will, a voice whispered inside Robin's head. And it's your fault...
Well, the voice was right about that, Robin thought as he wiped away the tears that were forming on his face with his forearm.
He had the choice to turn away from the life of a superhero/vigilante. Mant times, in fact. Especially when Batman gave him an out on a silver platter. But every single time he had refused.
He knew the good that he did out on the streets. And Robin couldn't in good conscience leave that behind, knowing that because of his inaction, people would be hurt. People would be killed. More families would have to witness gheir loved ones being tortured and murdered, ripped away from their warm love.
That's why he first started. To make sure no one would feel the same pain he felt on that day, all those years ago. And why he still kept up with it.
Robin abruptly sat up, blinking rapidly through the wetness in his eyes. Jolting to his feet, he mechanically grabbed a black cloak he had nabbed right before they left Jump City, shrugging it on over the uniform he still had not changed out of. He flipped the hood over his head, and briskly started walking towards where he knew the zeta tubes were, keeping to the shadows.
He was on high alert, ready to bolt the rest of the way if he saw even the slightest of movements from the halls. Strangely enough, no one seemed to be around.
The briefing room was unusually silent for the time of day when Robin came upon it. It was only noon. But, nevertheless, he could see no one inside, and took that opportunity to cross the room as quickly as possible.
It was only a brief moment before the zeta tube announced his name, and Robin was gone in a flash of light.
OoOoOoO
Robin didn't know why he got his hopes up. Unlike Jump City, Gotham was always covered in a gray haze, rain and/or snow looming on the horizon with a fake purpose.
His breath appeared in a mist inf rent of him, making the hand gripping his cloak together clench tighter as he pushed on the old, rotted metal gate. It creaked open, the sound making Robin wince.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the hard dirt path, the oppressive atmosphere seemingly doubled in the presence of the dead. Many of them too poor to even warrant headstones and name plates for them.
Robin shivered in the cold and pressed on towards the back of the cemetery.
He could remember the last time he had visited them so clearly. It was right before he left Gotham for what felt like the final time. He needed to at least say goodbye to them, as Robin had no idea what the future held, and if he never made it back to Gotham he wanted them to know that he still loved them.
But what kind of son was he that he left them all alone for two whole years? Not one that deserved to come back after all this time and try to apologize, tell stories, and explain what exactly was going in his life.
Yet that is exactly what Robin planned to do, as it had been too long since he saw them.
Even though he was risking running into Batman, being back in Gotham, Robin knew that this was what needed to be done. Through all the confusion and pain and stress and anger he felt, this felt so immensely right.
His pace slowed as he neared the hill that would take him to his parents. The looming oak still stood at the top, as if guarding against any evil that may come to stir trouble. Robin remembered being terrified of the knarled, leafless tree during the funeral. Now, he simply saw it as a warning of what he would find on the other side.
Trudging to the top, Robin felt his heart skip a beat when he laid his eyes upon the two beautifully carved headstones. They were specially commisioned by Bruce, and featured doves, olive branches, and tiny, joyous people joined together in mourning.
Robin glided down the slope, stopping in front of the polished white marble. He dropped to his knees on the frosted ground, gingerly reaching out to run his thumb along the name plates.
Mary Grayson
Devoted Mother, Wife, and Performer
Mary, mergi în pace, și Domnul să fie cu tine.
John Grayson
Devoted Father, Husband, and Performer
S-ar putea să aveți călătorii fără probleme
Robin once again felt tears gathering in his eyes. But this time, they were joined by a pained laugh and a nervous smile.
"Hey Ma, hey Papa." he rasped, settling back on his knees. Robin sniffed, and pulled his cloak even closer. "It's...been awhile, hasn't it?"
The only answer was the whistling wind, rattling the old limbs of the oak tree behind him. A raven pecked curiously at the ground behind the headstones, before giving Robin a blank stare and flying away with a tiny warble.
"I know I should have visited sooner, but..." he paused, blinking rapidly as the nameplates blurred in front of him. "...I was scared."
Something in his chest loosened at the admission. It felt good to be honest, with only his parents judgement pressing down on him. It wasn't oppressive, though, not like the teams or Batman's. It was simply a warm weight across his shoulders.
"And I've really messed up. Even more than usual." Robin sighed, raking a hand through greasy, matted hair. He winced. He really needed a shower. "And I thought that, maybe, you could help me? I...I know you can only listen to my problems, but maybe it will help...God, I have no idea what I'm saying."
He swallowed, then started on everything that had happened since he left. The horrors of living alone at such a young age, finding the Titans, leaving Batman and Young Justice, being happier than he could ever remember being with the Titans rather than Batman, and finally...
"...his name is Slade. But, I guess the League and everyone else knows him as Deathstroke. He's..." he paused, before slowly peeling his mask off of his face. Gingerly, he ran his thumbs over the dirtied lenses. "He's a terrible person. He made me do terrible things, taught me how...he taught me the easiest ways to kill a person. Made me steal. He's a monster.
"But my friends saved me. And for a while, everything was great. I should have known it wouldn't last. Now Slade's back, and if I don't agree to be his apprentice again...I think he's going to do something terrible."
Dick's chest was tight, and now he gripped the mask as hard as he could. He didn't want to continue. But this would make him feel better, right? It just like going to an actual therapist.
"I hate to admit it, but when he was making his pitch...he made good points. And I was seriously considering it. Because this hero thing just seems to keep stabbing me in the back. No one seems to really want me around for who I am." anger bled into his voice, the lenses now straining in his grip. "It's always 'you're a great fighter' or 'you're so smart', so they don't want me to leave. And...and now it's 'you're our leader, we couldn't function without you'.
"Is that all I am? Just...a chess piece that's needed to win?" Dick's eyes blazed, and he hastily wiped his eyes with the edge of his hood. "Cause that's all I feel like."
The wind had stopped, leaving an eerie silence only broken by the distant sounds of the city behind him. He heard the sound of a car door slamming shut, and the creak of the gate sliding open again.
Looks like his time was cut short.
"But don't worry, I won't accept the deal. It...would go against everything I swore to do after-" Dick's throat closed over a pitiful whimper. "...after you died."
He gingerly stood up, his right ankle twitching in pain. That's right, he thought. Dick never got any treatment for it after the mission.
"I don't know what the future holds." he admitted, wiping the dirt off the edges of the cloak. "But I know that a future with Slade is a dark one. And a future as hero..." he trailed, looking down solemnly at the mask still in his grip.
Would a future as a hero be all that better than a future with Slade? Dick shook his head, dislodging the thought. Of course either would be better.
But would it lead to anything but even more pain? That seemed unlikely. Dick just wanted to know when he could live a semi-normal life without guilt swallowing his entire being.
"...a future as a hero is uncertain." he finally finished, gently placing his mask down between the two headstones. "But I won't ever stop fighting for what's right."
Dick was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he ignored his surroundings. He spun around with a jolt when he heard a branch snap under the heel of a foot nearby.
With one last glance and prayer towards his parents, Dick silently began the truck back up the hill. The sun looked to be significantly lower than when he had arrived in the late afternoon, and the temperature had only gotten colder.
Three crows let out a call above him, flying over and landing in the oak tree. They watched him with intrigued eyes, shifting on their feet as if they expected him to drop dead at any second.
One flapped it's wings and cawed even louder when Dick drew closer. He glared at the intense stare and pulled his cloak closer around himself as he reached the top of the hill.
He let out a small gasp when he almost ran straight into a man's chest.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where-"
"-Master Richard?" a posh, awestruck voice said. Dick's head snapped up, eyes widening when they landed on a familiar face.
Alfred stood with a hand raised as if to cover his mouth, his other hand filled with a mix of bluebells, forget-me-nots, white lilys, and his mother's favourite flower, a lotus, right in the center of the bouquet.
"Alfred." Dick breathed, and before he could say anything more he was enveloped in a warm hug.
"Oh, Master Dick, it has been too long." Alfred whispered, squeezing him even further to his chest.
Dick paused, his brain flatlinging, before instinct took over and he was hugging the man back with just as much fervour, burying his head into the shoulder that smelled like lilac, the fabric softener that Alfred always used for the laundry.
"I missed you, Alfred." Dick rasped, smiling when the arms around him squeezed in comfort. "I missed you so much."
Yes, I am ending it here. And also; yes, I did almost start crying when I was writing this chapter.
What about it?
~Atatami